#derry-rain

[mercurygray]

Hello! How about

29.— preparation from the one word prompts for Edie, please?

@ktredshoes also asked for Edie and the word 'bitter' - i hope you two don't mind that I decided to combine them!

This was as close as she'd ever get.

It was quiet, up here in the slow-curling light of dawn - outside, Winks and the rest of the crew were checking engines and spark plugs and surveying the rest of their repairs, and she was up in the nose of the plane, the light slowly illuminating the compartment through the plexiglass, sending shadows here and there. And right at the head of the compartment, leading the whole plane - the bombsight, sitting on its mounting like a Sphinx, knobs and dials ready to divine and deliver.

This one had come straight from the workshop this morning - she'd carried it out here herself in its special canvas bag and carefully mounted it into the stabilizers, sitting back to wait for the bombardier who'd be going out with this plane this morning.

The bombardier - who was not her. This was as close as she would ever get to the war.

Never mind that she knew the thing as well as she knew her own hands, never mind that she'd studied and trained on it more hours than anyone would care to count. Someone else would take the sight out this morning and make it do its terrible work, because the Army Air Forces were not in the business of putting women in airplanes. That's what she'd been told, angrily, after she'd handed in the same already-graded copy of the exam all the bomber boys were taking, shown her score to the instructor. Don't we keep hearing there's a shortage of qualified candidates?

"Now, don't you worry about that, Sergeant Lockner," he'd said, sputtering. "We've got plenty of men to take care of those things."

Plenty of men, was it? Plenty of men who'd scored lower than she had on that exam? But the nose of the plane as it sat on the ground in Norfolk was as far as she'd go. Plenty of men who wouldn't be able to do the work she could do inside the sight tuning and fixing and measuring, because she was a girl, and her fingers were finer, and those other things, the coarse-grained war things, could be handled by them.

A truck grumbled by outside, and Edie got off the bombardier's seat and moved to sit on the floor near the instrument panel, listening as the men got out of the truck and began loading into the plane, stubbing out cigarettes and joking about the weather, their kit bags landing with soft thumps into the belly of the plane. "You getting her all set up for me up here, Edie?"

"Locked and loaded for your checks, sir."

James Douglass sat down in his seat and looked over at her with a smile on his face. "Now when are you gonna quit it with the ranks and just call me Doug like everyone else does?"

She rolled her eyes. "When I'm sure you're not gonna make something of it, Lieutenant." Calling me Edie's bad enough, but everyone does that.

Douglass looked disappointed. "Is my reputation really that bad?" he asked. "Hold on - don't answer that. It's already all over your face."

Your reputation for being interested in every girl who'll give you the time of day? That reputation? "Would have thought you'd call that good, where you're sitting."

"Would be if I could get a date out of it," Douglass groused.

"Want me to run the checklist with you, sir?" Edie asked, walking straight past any remarks she wanted to make about how the doctrine of precision bombing worked on women, too, if they didn't think you were just dropping compliments on anything that moved, but it was early, and they had a war to fight, and she needed to be out of the plane before all four of those engines started firing.

"Cutting it a little close," Douglass observed, but made no move to stop her and reached for his checklist.

Of course I am, Edie agreed bitterly, reaching for the master switch, the first item on the list she could recite by heart. Close is all I've got.

[borealopelta]

please tell me about the 49th hunger games.

boyboat hunger games au!!!!! i am sticking those boys in an arena and they will have a horrible time!!!! i'm talking gore! mcd! hopeless romance!!! badly timed making out!!! homoerotic mentor to mentor communication!! it's fully outlined i just need to write it :(((( tiny snippet from the ~2k-ish i have of it though!

He's about to ask if Don's okay when something warm drips onto his face - he wipes it away with his finger and stares, uncomprehending, at the thick, bright red smudge.  "The boy from Two," Don says, and only now Bobby manages to place the voice: exhaustion and blood loss, dead giveaways of a fatal injury.  "Antonius?" "Yeah. I don't think he knew we were there, I think he was scouting the spot for their alliance. With the other Two, and Luster, and the girl from Four. I don't know her name." "Shirley." "Shirley... Anyway, I -" Don breaks off into a weak, horrible cough, breath left shaky and quick in its wake, "I knew if i let him leave he'd bring back the whole alliance and we wouldn't stand a chance against them, so I..." Bobby can fill in the gaps. He peers over the face of the cliff and sure enough, there's a body lying in the undergrowth, with Don's heavy pick wedged firmly in his chest. Bobby wants to throw up at the thought of Don killing someone.

[shoshiwrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much, George! I...have a lot of trouble picking favorites, for various reasons, but I went through my writing tag and picked some lil hidden gems, if I may call them that.

[this prompt with Jo and Bucky ft. coffee] — they should share coffee more often, actually. [sidera] — Blind Dates from two years ago, my babe Christina! She's with the MFAA in Austria and crosses paths with Pat Christenson. Ao3's down for maintenance rn, but she's on there too. [so many miles and so long since i've met you] — last year's Blind Dates, Paulette, who crosses paths with Floyd Talbert in a stateside bus station. Also on Ao3, when it's back up:) [this Jo/Bucky prompt] — early on in my MotA-Jo wanderings, so I'd tweak some things, but I really love the energy here? I just remember feeling very buzzy with promise while writing it, seeing how they play off each other and how Jo works in a new environment. [Jo/Joe "touching foreheads" prompt] — this is an itty-bitty postwar prompt. I know I wrote it but...I think about it often. One of the lines here is very much a cornerstone of how I write them.

[thoughpoppiesblow]

17 - spooky stories for Jackie, please?

hi george! thanks for the ask - this was loads of fun to write!

The fog was thick, like being wrapped in a wet wool blanket. If Jackie closed her eyes and breathed deep and pretended it was warm out, she could also say it was like being back in New Orleans. Almost, if she tried.

“Always used to spook me as a kid,” said Curt, looking out across the soupy tarmac. “The fog and all.”

“Really now?” said Jackie. Curt nodded sagely in response, and Jackie grinned. “You wouldn’t last one night in the bayou, Curt. All them gators lookin' at you through the mist, with nothin’ but their eyes? That’s all you can see out there at night, just the glowin’ eyes of the gators.”

Curt smiled and looked away, still shaking his head. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he said. “Ain’t she kiddin’ me, Buck?”

Buck looked away from the sky and towards Curt and Jackie. He was different than when Jackie had first met him, back in the spring. He carried himself differently, as though he was constantly tensing for the next punch like he couldn’t tell when the wheels of his fort were going to touch back down. He stood like he was waiting for the final pin to drop, all tensed shoulders and white knuckles. And even now, in the fog with his fellow pilots, Buck had an air of anxious tension about him. 

“Can never tell with Broussard,” Buck said, his voice strong yet surprisingly thoughtful.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Oop, no idea how I got your other blog at all⋆ “your hands are freezing! come here, let me warm you up.” for Ruthie and Benny, please?

omg hi George!! Thank you so much for the request, I had SO much fun with this one 🥰 this blurb may or may not have gotten me to push back the Benny x Vika timeline a bit so 👀 the slow burn is now moving at a ✨glacial✨ pace 🤭

From this prompt list; as always, requests are still open if y’all want to see any more of these!

“your hands are freezing! come here, let me warm you up.”

Vika enters the bar shivering, letting out a sigh of relief at the warmth surrounding her, a stark contrast to the biting cold of New York on the cusp of winter. There are few customers from what she can see— not many people would be willing to brave the frosty wind tonight, but to see her friends? It was more than worth it to Vika.

Speaking of…

A telltale squeal of delight reaches her ears, and she turns with a smile to see Juliet rushing towards her for a hug.

“So glad you could make it!”

“Glad I didn’t turn into an icicle on my way here,” Vika laughs as she pulls away, letting an exaggerated shiver run through her.

“I know, it got cold so fast this year. I— Vika!” Juliet admonishes, “Where are your gloves?”

She looks down sheepishly at her bare fingers, but before she can answer, Benny DeMarco’s walking up to pull her into a bear hug.

She giggles as she’s lifted off the ground for a moment, doing her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she laughs, “Hi, Benny.”

“Hey, Vika.”

He steps back a half step, beaming at her, and the fondness in his gaze alone is enough to warm her to her core.

Goodness, she wished more than anything she had the courage to tell him about her feelings, especially now that she knew how he felt about her, but—

Benny’s smile fades as his fingers glide down her arms to grasp her hands.

”Your hands are freezing!” He frowns, concern coloring his tone, “Come here, let me warm you up.”

Before Vika can protest, he’s cupping her hands in his own and lifting them to his mouth, gently breathing warm air over her frozen fingers.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vika can see Juliet barely holding back a snicker, and she can only imagine what the expression on her face must be as Benny’s warm brown gaze pins her in place.

“Better?”

“Hm?”

Vika blinks, seeing Benny looking at her expectantly.

“Oh— yes! Yes, much better,” she says hurriedly, “Thank you, Benny.”

“Anytime,” he grins.

He’s still holding her hands.

She doesn’t really want him to let go.

“Vika! Are you gonna come say hi, or just stand there all night?— hey!”

Though it’s cut off by a scolding smack on the arm from Olive, Dougie’s voice from the table across the bar breaks the spell holding Benny and Vika frozen in place, and Benny releases his hold on her.

“Come on, I saved you a seat,” Benny says, cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink as he guides her to the rest of their little group, “And maybe once you’ve said hi to everyone you can tell me what happened to your gloves? I know you had them last time…”

“It’s a long story,” Vika laughs sheepishly— one that involved her youngest, most stubborn cousin, an unsupervised game of dress up, and gloves that were now irreparably stained after nearly a week of refusing to take them off.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” is all Benny says, and rather than the usual embarrassment she might feel, Vika finds herself looking forward to telling him as she settles in her usual spot next to him, excited for a night of fun and laughter with her friends.

The fact that Benny spends the night pressed flush against her side, fingers brushing and knees knocking together— using the small table as an excuse— doesn’t hurt either.

[onyxsboxes]

11, 18, 37 for the fic writer ask game?

Thank you for the ask 🥰,

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Ow, it's hard, it's SO hard. I'm so bad at choosing (like chronically bad) and there are so many. Will it work if I say it's all of them 🥺👉👈?

I'll go with the last ones I've read (but really ALL the MOTA fics are awesome 😍) @alienoresimagines Clegan "Royalty/Bodyguard AU" @amiserableseriesofevents "Such stuff as dreams are made on" modern!au clegan and theater @brotherwtf "age gap au"

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Most of my titles aren't very creative; they usually describe the fic. I mostly come up with them during the writing process when I'm creating a document to write them in, but I polish them up a bit before posting 😅

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Most of my chapters are one-shots put together, so it's usually one chapter, one idea 🤔

😊.

[feydrautha]

3, 7, 8, 10, any of these. For The Terror.

😈

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Crying, all the hellish screenshots i have are Twitter posts bc i was much more active there... but I think the entirety of Terror Camp is the worst take a fandom could have ever had. You cannot change my mind, idc idc!

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Fuckin... Dundy. I have seen people in the last two years refer to this guy as a "main character" when he has, what, five lines in total? The main characters are Crozier, Goodsir, Silna and Hickey, get fuckin real!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

"Joplittle are basically married and the entire fandom is on board with it!" Hi, hello, stop being that guy who generalises because No, The Fuck I Am Not.

10. worst part of fanon

I honest to god find the way everyone acts about the DressTM and Fitzgender so annoying and how 80% of Fitzier pieces have something to do with The Dress. Maybe it's cause I also don't particularly care about Fitzjames as a character, so I might be biased.

Actually, no, the Dress is me being petty. The worst part is the treatment of Silna as a whole when people simply don't know what to do with her as a character.

Please, let me choose some more violence

[gyunikum]

a prompt with - 08. — absolute for what you feel like writing about.

oho! a challenge not to have any sort of reference point. the confusion of freedom.

08. — absolute

The soldier does not remember his name. His faith is absolute, though. He has slept for a hundred years, and the world is different. Even the dunes are taller. But his faith is absolute.

He remembers, though, the face of a man from across him, and the beads of a rosemary in his palm. He remembers the words of a prayer and a poem.

For he is not just a soldier--he is as much a creator as he is a destroyer.

His greatest creation?

The love in that man's eyes.

His greatest destruction?

The heart of that man.

The nameless soldier and poet wanders the desert, a ghost of an empty space.

[just-barrow]

13. Which three characters would you take with you on a jolly? And which one would you definitely leave back at camp?

Mike Mike definitely Mike!! honestly I don't think I'd even dare wander out into the desert without him by my side. and if I can't take three Mikes I'd probably take Bill and Johnny along with me because like Mike they are both competent af and look like they would stay calm when there's trouble and I need that 😂

David can stay at camp because somehow he's always driving/walking into literal minefields and I would like to return in one piece ok

[mercurygray]

Seashells from the March prompts for Marion, please?

George, I hope you don't mind I went in a slightly different direction for this. It's Marion, but it's...not. This is also for the Kind Anonymous Friend who asked for Harding's departure.

He still couldn't believe he'd left them.

His bedroom at Walter Reed was terribly empty - white walls, an iron bedstead also enameled in white, a bedside table, a small chair, a tray on wheels they could place over his bed if he wanted to get work done - if he'd had any work to do, that is. But Neil Harding hadn't been allowed to take any work with him. The 100th doesn't go off ops, and neither do I. He'd been saying it for weeks, even as he was doubled over in pain at his desk and Doc Stover was begging him to tell him what was wrong.

Well. They knew now. Gallstones - a whole lot of them. Easy enough to treat if you got to them early, but he hadn't done that, had he, and now he was back stateside, and his boys were still in it.

They needed me, and I left them.

His boys - and Marion.

There hadn't been a lot of time for good-byes, as they'd been rushing him to the hospital in London, and then straight onto an air evac flight back to the States to recover. He could do a month of bedrest just as easily in DC as he could in England, and there were boys who needed the space close to the war. The Army Medical Department seemed to think he was a total loss, as far as combat readiness was concerned, but he had things to do in England - people who needed him!

Who's going to take care of you, now? Who's looking out for my best girl?

They weren't the kind of instructions you could commit to paper. Red - please look after Marion. Look after, like she needed someone to check on her health. What she needed was someone to kiss her good night - to rub her shoulders and rub her out and fill her hot water bottle and cradle her, very gently, after having sex, at least once a night but perhaps twice. And the particular someone who should have been doing it was presently across an ocean, eating milk porridge and having a full shift of nurses fuss over his stitches and his wound dressing and his bowel movements, like he was some old fogey who would forget things if he wasn't asked.

It wasn't prison, but damn if it didn't feel close. There was a hospital library, and they delivered the papers every day. He was allowed his cigars, and if they liked the progress of his stitches they'd put him back on solid food soon. And they tried for some comforts, where discipline and order could fit them in. One of the nurses had set up his framed picture of Doris and the girls right where he could see it, on the dresser across from his bed. "That's better, now, isn't it, sir?" she'd asked with a sunny smile. "Can I get you anything else, while I'm here?"

He wanted her to take the picture down, but that would look bad. The woman herself would be here in a few days, but until then, he wanted to remain in the war, with the comforts he'd found here. "Lieutenant, there's a…a seashell, in my footlocker, in the top tray." It should have still been there, wrapped in a handkerchief. "Could you - could you put that out, too?" She nodded, and went to check his trunk, before pulling it out - a small, soft, pink spiral of a shell, the kind that you could hear the ocean in, if you held it to your ear. She set it down near the photograph like the two belonged together. "On the - the other side of the dresser, please."

She moved it, as instructed. "A good memory, I hope?"

Neil looked at it and thought of the ocean, and a walk along a barbed-wire edged breakwater in Southwold, a rare private weekend away. She'd found the shell in between the stones, tossed up by a storm. Your favorite color, he'd joked, stroking the pink with his thumb. Your favorite shape, she tossed back, and he realized how the swirl of the shell echoed the curve of a breast, peaking into a pink tip. He'd slipped it into his pocket like a talisman, careful not to break it, and that night he'd kissed those breasts over and over again like he might somehow commit them to memory.

Was it just one memory? No, more than that. But the nurse didn't need to know that. He had left - but she had stayed, and would remain until the stars went out. At least they could depend on her. Neil smiled and nodded, thinking of a woman in a pristine army uniform, laughing in his room's single chair. "The best."

[borealopelta]

17 and 71 for spotify wrapped.

hiii thank you!!

17 was wasteland warrior hoots patrol by gloryhammer. i know.

and 71 was always on my mind by the pet shop boys!!! fucking incredible music it's always on my mind :)

[shoshiwrites]

⭐ 

Thank you so much, George! <3

I went back and revisited Jo's intro to the Motaverse (Into the Motaverse?) and was struck by:

(A) Again, I said I wasn't going to go cuckoo for coco puffs for the pilot show?? (B) I wrote this without sitting in my writing marinade for ten years which is honestly character development (although, it does mean I look at it and squint a bit now, and maybe part of that was also wanting to get on the bandwagon when everyone else was, I can be honest). (C) There's definitely a difference between this first John Egan interacting with Jo — leaning back in his chair, appraising her, calling her sunshine — and the John Egan that sits across from her at the pub in the next prompt asking her questions about her childhood (and then, you know, all the kissing later). And she's different too, or at least at an earlier stage — putting on that protective face, that armor. It makes me want to think about what happens between those two points — how does she go from New Girl to (forgive me Jo) their trusty correspondent? And how does she get to that point for him personally? What does she see with him over those days/weeks, and vice versa?

[Director's Cut ask meme!]

[thoughpoppiesblow]

bound and ghost for an oc of your choice?

thanks for the ask, friend! i've decided to talk about miss nora huchthausen, since she hasn't been addressed in this ask game yet!

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

not physically, but mentally. nora traps herself in her head and doesn't reach out when she needs help, and this can lead to a lot of arguments and rough situations.

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

nora's haunted by her family, as we see briefly here. more info on that is coming in due time, but basically nora is haunted by the actions of her family. she tries to live with it by always being this fun, unserious girl, but that doesn't always work.

[hephaestn]

Happy birthday!!

thank you so much! ☺️🩵

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Derry posting...

[snailsnfriends]

WHAT A GLORIOUS FEELING, I'M HAPPY AGAIN! - on finding the joy in life

why i wake early (mary oliver) / the lego movie (dir. phil lord, christopher miller) / don't let the good life pass you by (cass elliot) / forest (justine kurland) / gate a-4 (naomi shihab nye) / derry girls (lisa mcgee) / walking on sunshine (katrina and the waves) / the perks of being a wallflower (dir. stephen chbosky) / norwegian wood (haruki murakami) / singin in the rain (dir. gene kelly, stanley donen) / (@/inkskinned) / water for the people (paul d'amato)