#td magneto

[mercurygray]

Short Days Ago

Several months ago I promised all the TDS girlies a special command performance by our favorite actress/dancer/comedienne. So, fresh from her record-setting bond tour with John Basilone - EILEEN HAMMOND!

Felt like a lot of nonsense, just to see a show.

Ken didn't know what business the USO had, trucking a whole bunch of dancers in here in the middle of a war. It wasn't like the Clubmobile girls, who came in their own truck and could pack themselves out at the end of the day. Everyone on the base seemed to be on high alert the whole week before they were due in, sprucing up paint and setting a stage up near one of the empty hard stands, like they didn't have anything else they should have been working on.

"C'mon, Lemmons!" one of the new fellows said with a grin on the day of the concert. "You can take an hour off!"

But he couldn't take an hour off - not really, not when everyone else was doing the same thing. They'd be on mission alert the next day and every single one of these forts needed to be able to go up and he wasn't making that mistake again. He could hear the music across the fields a little, when the wind shifted, but he wasn't missing much, he felt. He was needed here.

The show was just wrapping up when he drove by the parts store, looking to get a replacement magneto. The dancers had all come down from the stage, posing for pictures with one and all, and the biggest crowd, by far, was around a black-haired beauty with a smile that just wouldn't quit. Well, I'll be. She's back. Lemmons pulled up short and joined the crowd.

Eileen looked around the sea of faces with a big, take-all-comers grin. "You know, the last time I was here someone said I was so pretty they ought to paint me on a plane. They had a new fort in and they were looking for a name. Irish Eyes, I think they said."

Lemmons spoke up. "Yeah, sure, Miss!" The crowd parted a little, deferring to the sound of their crew chief. "She's still here. Hammond's Hornets." He pointed off into the distance, where the plane was parked out on the far side of the field. Wing damage - needed new levers in an aileron. But anyone who walked by the nose today would have seen Eileen Hammond in all her perfect pin-up glory, casting that same grin out into the sky in a yellow and black bathing suit.

The crowd around him buzzed a little, and Lemmons felt a twist in his chest. Would any of them have known that was where the name was from? After all, Rosie's Riveters were named after Rosenthal himself, not his girlfriend, and that visit had been long ago.

"And it was - it was Waitley who asked me to kiss the plane!" Eileen remembered with a grin. "Bob Waitley - from Tennessee. He was trying to go for the main chance and I told him I only had so many to go around - so he had me kiss the plane instead."

Lemmons nodded, smiling and remembering. What a joker, Waitley - always trying to get a pretty girl to catch his eye. "We painted the outline that afternoon - even tried to match your lipstick. The fellas used to touch it when they got in. For good luck."

"Is he still around?" Eileen asked, searching the crowd for a familiar face. "Bob Waitley? I don't think I saw him when I came in."

Ken felt cold. "He was… shot, ma'am." He didn't want to tell the rest of that story, about how Bob had taken a piece of flak through the thigh and bled out on the way home, and his co-pilot had brought the plane down with a dead man in the front seat and three more in the back. He also didn't want to say anything about what had come after, about scrubbing blood out of the cockpit and replacing the covers on the seats, and how they would open the cockpit windows, when crews like that came home, so the souls of the dead wouldn't stay with the plane on her next mission. Pilots were a superstitious bunch, but crew chiefs could be, too. And he'd still kept on having the crew touch up that kiss mark, though it was getting a little wavy now. Good intentions, that's all that was - nothing bad luck about a friendly kiss from a girl.

And Eileen Hammond, for all that she was a showgirl, knew what he meant when he said shot and ended his sentence early, and had enough sense not to ask more questions after.

Behind him, the newer crew was shuffling their feet. "No one told us that story about the kiss." "I just thought it was a joke." "Is that why we couldn't name it ourselves?"

"Well, I'm sure Miss Hammond has a very tight schedule," one of the pilots said quickly, noticing the frosty turn in the conversation. "We should let her get going, gents."

The crowd moved off, but Eileen stayed put, catching Lemmons' sleeve as he turned to leave. "Can I go and see them, Sergeant? If you've got time."

Ken looked her straight in the eye and realized she meant it. "Sure, Miss Hammond. I got time."

It was quiet, out here on the tarmac, speeding off to the far side of the airfield, and Eileen wasn't singing now. Her black curls were going to catch hell from this ride in the open jeep, but she didn't seem to care. Ken pulled off to the side of the taxiway and pointed where they were headed -a half-hidden mound of stones, the remnants of some ancient wall, sheltered under an equally ancient oak. The oak's spread roots had tumbled the rocks here and there, but there were plenty of crevices for dog tags and cigarettes and lucky pennies, and plenty of moss to soak up beers. Plenty of privacy to sit and remember, or to drink and forget. Here's where you bury the guys who don't come home.

"Every base has one," Eileen said, quietly. "Visit enough and you know to ask." She swallowed and looked out across the fields, the low mountains of distant planes far away. "Rather pretty out here. They have a nice view."

"Sure do, miss."

She nodded, and turned to look at the wall, smiling at the beer bottles carefully perched on the top, the half-full bottle of whiskey at the base and the series of small round stones stacked here and there. She stepped gently around the items on the ground, and kissed the largest stone, the print of her lips uneven and red on the rough surface of the rock. "There you are, Bob. A few months overdue." She stepped back to survey her handiwork and took a deep breath, in and out. Behind them the wind was in the grass, and there was a rustle in the oak overhead. All was at peace.

"Don't paint that one on, Sergeant," she said, quietly. "Wouldn't want the other fellows getting jealous."

"'Course, miss," Ken nodded. "Some times the best things fade."

She smiled at that, looking at the stone and the bottles and the way they were catching the late afternoon light. "You want me to re-do the other one? While I'm here?"

"If you like, miss," Lemmons said with half a smile. "But good luck kisses don't expire."

"Maybe so," she said with a shrug. "But it can't hurt, either, can it?"

---

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields. -In Flanders Fields, John McCrae

Though we never see this in the show, archeological excavations at Thorpe Abbotts indicate that the fliers did have some kind of memorial spot for their dead. A team from a nearby university excavated the site in 2017.

[tinkerbelldetective]

/Haven't wrote in a while./

His slim fingers interlaced with your's as you walked down the sidewalk.

You were surprised, but enjoyed it, as small as it was. Erik was never very affectionate. You couldn't contain the smile that made its way to your lips as you peered down at your intertwined hands.

"Ani ohevet otcha (I love you)." Erik stopped, his fierce eyes quickly shifting to you.

"What did you say?" Your stomach fell, part of you wondered if he'd be mad at you...

" I said I love you." You answered softly. The grip on your hand tightened.

"No y/n. What did you say?" Erik's eyes were searching, he hadn't heard the language spoken so freely in such a long time.

"Ani ohevet otcha. I love you-" "Ani ohev otach." His arms wrapped around and pulled you into him. His heartbeat was loud and heavy in your ears and you felt a flutter of a kiss on your head before he pulled away.

"Ani ohev otach." He whispered again.

[onlyrogue]

reserved for td

OOC  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ pay no attention to the man behind the curtain ❵

IC  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ got more opinions than sense and a big mouth  ❵

MEMES  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ gonna feel this one in the mornin ❵

SHITPOST  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ [strums banjo] magneto was right y’all ❵

CALLS  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ TO ME MY X-MEN ! ❵

HEADCANON  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ ah’m used to minds leaving their muddy fingerprints all over mine ❵

META  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ x-studies : certified PHD asshole level ❵

DASH COMM  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ i came i saw i swerved out of my lane ❵

THREADS  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ idk but it seems like a good idea organizationally ❵

SELFPROMOS  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ support your local white trash darling ❵

PROMOS  ‹ ⨂ › ❴ sharin’ some sugah ❵

[seablooded]

res for td

dyn : + strange. dyn : + hulk. dyn : + namora. dyn : + namorita. dyn : + dorma. dyn : + sue. dyn : + scott. dyn : + emma. dyn : + bucky. dyn : + steve. dyn : + xmen. dyn : + avengers. dyn : + invaders. dyn : + defenders. dyn : + magneto. dyn : + doom. dyn : + loa.

[willshallconsulting]

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TDEƱ3

[tinkerbelldetective]

“ I want to hug Magneto.”

The table of X-Men turned and gave you a bewildered look.

“Ya’ll acting like he doesn’t need one.” You shrugged.

Charles sent you a look and you could hear him chuckling in your mind.

[tinkerbelldetective]

Charles chuckled at you. Your thoughts were so outrageously loud. The way you looked at him, the way you yearned to hold his hand, everything. You were still helplessly and hopelessly in love with Erik Lehnsherr.