#thoughpoppiesblow

[shoshiwrites]

forgot to add these in the other ask - glance + roots + bling from the character design asks, also for jo! have a lovely day shoshi 🖤

Thank you so much JJ, I hope you do too <333 I appreciate everyone being patient with me on these!

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

Jo's got dark hair with curls and quite a bit of volume, which she does try and pull back for her work week or around the apartment, and dark brows, and a big sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. More than that though, it's a careful and quite serious expression she wears when she's not smiling — observing, thoughtful. 

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

Jo's look is (I hope!) very rooted in her time — '30s and '40s tailoring and silhouettes. It's inspired by the simpler looks of the period, menswear and workwear and military garb (both actual and not). Good trousers, blouses, belts, jackets. She also loves more delicate pieces in her non-work life, and for her undergarments. Her palette is very much inspired by different shades of coffee, and green, and other earth tones.

bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?

Her two staples are little gold hoop earrings, bought with the check from her first feature from the paper she started at, and a wristwatch. Sometimes she'll wear a chain bracelet with it. William's college ring, for a while. The heirloom engagement ring he gave her is too big and flashy to wear overseas. Teehee. She doesn't usually wear a necklace unless it's one of her mother's, a medallion or cross tucked beneath a sweater or nestled in the v of her button-up blouse.

[Character asks: Jo Brandt edition]

[mercurygray]

hi merc, and happy new year! may i ask for “silver candlesticks” + dick and joan (and nix?) + the revolutionary war au?

Try as he might, he could not remember the bullet.

Roe had said that was the way of it, sometimes, the shock of the wound taking over all else, and told him not to worry about it. Lew had said it was better that way, though what Lew knew of wounds and bullets and being shot Dick really couldn't say. But his friend did know something about forgetting - and perhaps it was of himself he spoke, since he'd been there, too, and had been the one to help get Dick on the horse and back to camp.

But Dick could not remember any of that - only of waking up in this house, in this bed, being fussed over by Roe and having the commander come to pay his respects and wish for a speedy recovery for one of his beloved Life Guards. Shot during the retreat - a clean wound, but one that would keep him abed for a good while it healed.

It was too much and all at once - a bed when many were without roofs or tents, a fire and fixed meals when many were without uniforms and blankets. He was in the lap of luxury here compared to the rest of the Army, with silver candlesticks and tapers of good wax at his bedside, and a fine wool blanket on the bed.

Yeah, Lew had said with a grin. And we found you the only great house on the Schuylkill with a pretty girl in it.

Dick blushed and fumed for that, too - both because Lew was right, and because it seemed to him a grave oversight to call Miss Warren merely a pretty girl, when she was the same age as him and therefore not a girl, and far more than merely pretty.

Not, of course, that he would admit to any of that aloud. Distractions over female beauty were for Lew to crow over, or Harry, at a stretch, but not for him. Especially for this woman - the niece of his host! Herr General von Pfershing - retired from King Frederick's wars and now living the life of a gentleman farmer with a heavy interest in military strategy. (Dick had been helping himself to the few books in the General's library that were in English rather than German.) Lew had said that was a stratagem, too - an excuse for Washington to pay his respects to the old man under the guise of visiting Dick and ask for his opinion - but Dick wasn't so sure of that. And if it was, he felt certain the old Prussian would have foxed that out by now - just as he was sure the man would have noticed if the soldier in his guest room was making eyes at his niece.

There was a knock at the door. "Captain Winters? Are you awake?"

He struggled for a moment against his pillows, trying in vain to sit up a little straighter. He was undressed - and while it didn't matter much to him to be seen in his shirtsleeves, to be seen in bed by a woman felt like a grave offense. Especially this bed, and by this woman…whom I haven't just been thinking of.

Too late - she had come in, and he made a last-ditch attempt to make sure that at most of his anatomy was sufficiently covered, though there was nothing to be done for his naked leg, outside of the blankets so that the wound might heal. "Please don't trouble! I…only came to see if you needed anything. There's dinner, if you're hungry." She held up the tray in her hands.

"You shouldn't - a servant could have - " He could see Lew laughing now in his corner - Served by the daughter of the house - what an honor.

Miss Warren seemed to think nothing of it. "You are my guest, Captain Winters. It seems the least I can do, since I've been of very little help otherwise."

She let herself in and set down the tray at his bedside - a bowl of soup and a spoon, carefully laid on a napkin. Dick's heart lurched a little watching the firelight fall on the curve of her neck, carefully covered with a muslin scarf, setting off the dark color of her hair and the little wisps that emerged from the back of her head. Dark and fair, that was what a poet would have called her, for she was both. He made sure, again, that his shirt was closed, and then tried to be still.

"I had a letter," she shared, looking down at her hands. "From a Miss Annie Winters. She…had my name from a letter of yours, I think, and thanked me for the care I was giving to her brother, since your parents would not let her come herself. I thought I should try to be worthy of her gratitude."

Oh, Annie! "Whatever my sister may have said, I… release you from the obligation." He fumbled for the right words. "Your family has already been more than kind."

"It was not obligation," she replied pleasantly. "It only… reminded me that if my brother or cousin were injured I would want the same for them. Someone to bring a hot meal, and a willing smile. So here I am."

Would that you were not! Dick silently berated Annie again - what had she said? His sister was given to romantic nonsense, and he hated to think what she had written to Miss Warren. Bad enough that he had his own tender feelings to hide without Annie adding fat to the fire. A willing smile! She was smiling now, and he thought it might end him.

She took his silence as an invitation. "I saw your man Roe on his way out yesterday. He said that your leg's mending well."

Dick nodded, still trying to at least sit up, mindful, again, that it was his naked leg she was observing, the whole long pale length of it with its bandage outside the sheet, as though legs did not lead …anywhere else on his body that he did not at this moment both not want her to see and wished to high heaven she would. "Yes. Hopefully it will be …healed soon and your house can return to its…usual patterns. Without all of the…comings and goings of strange men."

Miss Warren gave a small laugh. "My uncle is a soldier, Captain Winters. Our house is forever full of strange men." She paused a moment and glanced at him a moment before returning her eyes elsewhere. "And …you are not strange," she said carefully. "At least any longer. The steward knows your names, and the houseboys know who to ask for sweets, and my uncle invites Captain Nixon to drink his brandy and play chess."

Dick scoffed. Trust Lew to find an excuse to drink and shirk his duties in camp. Or was that another stratagem of Washington's - the clever intelligence officer learning all he could from the old warhorse. "Poor excuses for soldiers."

"It is winter quarters, Captain. You can hardly expect to do anything else. It is a time to…regroup, and recover, and plan."

He glanced at the book on his bed - hadn't he just been reading that? "It appears you know more of soldiering than I do."

She shook her head. "Only encampments, and what I read in my uncle's books. And now …this war. Which you have seen and I have not. Except from Philadelphia drawing rooms, and this house."

Her tone made him pause, and he took a moment to study her while her eyes were on the fire. "You say that as though you regret it."

Her eyes snapped back to him and he felt trapped again. Ask me to carve out my heart and I'd do it. "I regret not being of more use, Captain Winters. Sitting at home and sewing may do well for other women but it does not do well for me. I do not like to have others do my fighting for me." She took a breath and hardened her smile. "I can…raise funds for the Congress, and keep my uncle's table for the men who come here for his advice, but it does not feel enough."

I would make it be enough for you, if I could - and kiss that brow and that cheek to seal it so, and - enough! He made a fist in his sheets, nails just digging into his palm through the linen. But as he did so he thought he could see another way, another woman - booted and spurred like a cavalryman, splendid in breeches and blue and gold. (He knew already she was a good horsewoman, but the image of her in breeches did nothing to help him.) "You have…made a safe place for us to rest so we can fight another day. That seems enough to me."

"You're kind to say so, Captain." She paused and seemed to remember herself, drawing a breath and letting it out again. "My apologies. I spoke of willing smiles and brought none and now I have stayed too long and the soup will be cold." For a moment he thought to ask her to stay, but he did not trust himself to do it. "Thank you, again. I will tell my sister I have the best care. That will be enough for her. And for me," he added, the words rushing out of his mouth. He still could not remember the battle, but he would remember her smile entirely.

[kindsummer]

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool) 🖤

thank you jj <3 i'm going to utilize the spotify on repeat playlist i still have pulled up to answer this bc when pressed i can't answer literally anything bc im an idiot. alright.

meaning (choral version) - cascadeur. i was listening to this to write who prays for the devil? as well as but someday you'll understand the meaning of my life though the second one is obvious bc the title is the lyrics. idk the song is from the crow (2024) soundtrack and is just so eerie and sad and it gets me in a good writing place. 10/10

strangers - ethel cain. this is a favorite aside from when i listened to it on repeat to write i tried to be good, am i no good? ethel cain just hits in such a good way, hayden is a masterful vibes creater and her music just fits a lot of my writing and a lot of my feelings.

the apparition - sleep token. this one was mentioned in the tagged thing i just posted but yeah i love this song sm. it makes me think of matt/rosie which is very helpful but also sleep token is very good vibes wise for my writing. i have a few artists i listen to a lot while writing and they are one.

hollow - noah kahan. noah should be higher on this if it weren't for me listening to the same two songs a million times over for the fics. noah i often refer to as the artist who understands me bc his words feel like mine that are spoken in my head only. idk he's just sooooo.. the girlies (gn) who get it, get it.

can't catch me now - olivia rodrigo. the hunger games fans get it for fucking sure. i cry listening to this all the time. olivia you are a genuis.

[ronsenthal]

hi jess! how about ☕️, 🌻, and 🎶 for the emoji asks? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hey sweetie!!

☕️ hot drink

I'm a tea girly so any kind of tea is good to me

🌻 flower

does lavender counts as flowers??? please

🎶 musical artist

Besides The Beatles my other fav is Queen

thanks for asking bby <3

random emoji-based questions to sate your curiosity

[upontherisers]

cari!! i would love the director’s cut of hazel and jack’s first meeting 🫶🏻🫶🏻

i think their very first meeting is entirely unremarkable. he's one of hundreds of new faces and she's one of a dozen but he can't make use of time between flying and sleeping and not sleeping and playing big brother on nights out on the town. perhaps he needs to pick up some paperwork from the air exec office and bucky's out but his secretary is in and can get it for him.

"captain kidd, yes?"

"uh, yes," jack says. "john b."

she rustles through a cabinet and he spots the two freckles on her cheek and the way her eyelashes curl in a swoop. she's as lovely as all the lovely girls that waac has sent them.

hazel notes how tall the captain is in her periphery and wonders how he squeezes into a cockpit. it's day three and the files are already such a mess that she'd have to stay late reordering them. but she manages to fish his k name out of the m's and he takes the file with a polite nod, departing with a thank you.

i think their meeting on the first day of his promotion is more signifcant. how do you form a working relationship with someone you have no way out of? that's, like, the army's whole thing but this relationship, with such a unique power dynamic — one of the only pseudo-civilian hierarchies to be found on base — can feel like trying to stick oppositely charged magnets together.

ask me for a director's cut

[alienoresimagines]

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool) 🖤

Aw, thank you 🥹❤️❤️

Sailor Song - Gigi Perez

Remembrance - Balmorhea

Fantastic - King Princess

Can't Catch Me Now - Olivia Rodrigo

Margaret - Lana del Rey

really calm, soothing songs vibe lately to get through the last month of the year <3

[jackharkness]

1, 4, and 8 for the history asks 🖤

hi JJ!

Who is your favourite historical person?

It's not gonna be a surprise to anybody but it's T.E. Lawrence 👉👈

4. Favourite historical era?

Definitely Ancient Egypt, and more specifically (since it's a very long period of time lol) the Middle Kingdom

8. What is the last thing you have read/ listened/ spoke with historical reference?

Oh... well I recently watched a very interesting documentary about Ramses II (x)

[fingersdecomposed]

peat!! for the famous writer asks: maya angelou, toni morrison, suzanne collins, john green, and ray bradbury! have a lovely dayyyy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

thank you jj !! 🥺🥺 i forgot i queue'd this and was real confused for a hot minute. :')

1. Maya Angelou: Have you ever written a scene that made you cry? If so, why?

I'll be honest, I cry a lot while writing because it's generally very catharthic for me. Mostly because I write a lot of grief / trauma related stuff. One in particular that comes to mind is the final chapter of meet me on the equinox. i decided in the middle of writing the previous chapter that i wanted to kill matt off because of certain contexts (re: a focus on revenge instead of moving on from trauma) and i was unpreparedly writing a desperately sad/moving funeral scene from the perspective of dallas, a best friend who had loved matt for hundreds of years while listening to the view between villages [extended] by noah kahan. this was right after my grandmother died, so i was (honestly, still am often) intensely emotional. i was crying my ass off the entire time i wrote that. i'll c/p a specific section that was probably the worst offender.

Dallas never had a chance to know Matt when he was alive, but she could imagine him now. If she closed her eyes, she could see him as a young boy at play with a messy head of dark curls and the warm hazel eyes of his mother that he always described so perfectly. His laugh, younger and higher, but his nonetheless, echoed in the slopes of the valley he called home. If she thought hard enough, she could see Matt curled up in his mother’s lap, reading from the aged, faded pages of a well-loved book in front of the fireplace. His older brother, Jonathan, was out cold on the couch, his occasional snores causing the two to laugh quietly. Before Matt had been consumed with silent rage, before what little he had left was stolen from him, he had been happy. With a simple life, a life filled with love and laughter, the life that he had deserved forever. Like his own mother, Matt had spent the rest of his life mourning the loss of all that had been taken from him. Though he could not literally wither and waste as Joyce had, he lived a life half-alive. All time that was not spent in a desperate bid for revenge had solely been in service to others. Matt had his mother’s kind heart, and he would be returned to her now that he eternally rested, too. The final chain that Dallas removed from her neck was the Magen David Joyce had given Matt for his Bar Mitzvah, the same that she had worn the very day that she buried an empty wooden box. Around the chain now were Joyce’s wedding ring, as well as the ring that Gene had bought Matt a year after they had met. An unspoken promise of what he would have done had they been given the opportunity during their brief time together. The last necklace Dallas placed on Matt’s chest, where his heart would be if it had not been ripped from his chest hundreds of years before. 

Toni Morrison: What's the hardest scene you've written so far? Was it technical or emotional?

i don't know if i have a specific scene in mind, but for me personally, any scene where there's a brawl/fight/violence, i completely struggle to write it. i'm a very literal person, and it's hard for me to literally describe what i am imagining in my head when it comes to the physicality. i don't find it hard to write emotions tbh, that's the easiest part for me.

9. Suzanne Collins: Are there any old trends (e.g. dystopia/vampires) that you want to come back or think will resurface? Any trends you wish would die already?

give me more hunger games stuff!! lol, aside from that, i'm not sure? i feel like every trend has a time and place and in some contexts i love to read them, in others i hate them. what i do think is more writers should be open to broadening their scope of works in adventurous ways (myself included). like, write more aus with interesting genres/topics/vibes. one thing i will admit that i hate is coffee shop au's. hate. so much. i hate coffee, and i hate the vibes. sorry coffee shop au stans.

10. John Green: Which themes show up most in your work and how intentional or unintentional is it?

absolutely one hundred percent obvious in my writing is grief, ghosts (which can be seen as a metaphor for grief), and unwavering loyalty. i feel like my writing is so easily recognizable because of that. my only hope is that i throw those themes into many different situations and universes so that the flavor of them tastes different.

11. Ray Bradbury: Name a story or book that helped you through a tough time?

this is gonna sound weird, but shifty powers' autobiography was bizarrely healing for me. the whole last quarter of that book focuses heavily on shifty's illnesses in later life and a slow, sluggish process of dying and the time that i read it (same as i wrote meet me on the equinox, may/june of 2023) ensured it had an impact. i cried a lot, but it made me feel a lot in a good way.

Famous Writer Asks.

[triggerlil]

got tagged by @swifty-fox for the last sentence game (better late than never) so here's some bucky pov i wrote last night...

He doesn't want to go back. Of course he wants to see his sister; she's a teenager now and he feels like he barely knows her. When had they stopped chasing each other with sticks in the backyard? He just didn't want to be under that roof, inside the house that turns him into the worst version of himself-- something ugly and small and weeping. He could endure it, and he would do so willingly. He cared about his family, he loved them. He wanted them to be happy, at least.

sorry if youve been tagged recently but here we go @shipstorms @feyd-meowtha @thoughpoppiesblow @trashbag-baby666

[shoshiwrites]

hi shoshi! how about 14 + 15 for the miscellaneous oc asks for jo? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thank you so much, JJ!

14. Is your OC superstitious? If so, what superstitions do they believe? If not, what do they think of superstitious people?

To paraphrase, she is not particularly superstitious, but she's a little stitious. Doesn't love a broken mirror, will throw spilled salt over her shoulder more often than not. But she'll also scoop up a black kitten, or be the third to light her cigarette from the same match. She likes particular pencils and pieces of clothing, but will usually stop short of considering anything her lucky charm. Until a certain major comes along.

She doesn't think any way in particular about superstitious people in her everyday life (combat's a different story), unless it gets in the way of them doing their job. I think she sometimes wishes she had that kind of faith in the universe, honestly. 

15. Is your OC religious? Do they want to be? Have they ever been at some time in the past? How complicated is their relationships with worship/the gods/the church/etc? 

She is not really religious. Her mother was, her father wasn't. She doesn't attend church regularly, and couldn't tell you the last time she took communion or went to confession. Jo values her mother's religious objects (crucifix, heirloom rosary, saint's medallion) because they're what Jo has left of her. She brings them overseas and often wears or carries them. She rarely prays. 

[Character asks: Jo Brandt edition]

[mercurygray]

hi merc! 14, 15, 21, and 23 for the end-of-year fic asks, please! 🖤

14. What were your go-to writing songs? - answered here!

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

Teasing. Only because I couldn't well call it 'Yeah This Is Just Thirst Don't Look At Me'

21. What's something that surprised you while you were on a fic? Did it change the story? I read Fitje Pitts' letters home and then Fred adopted a cat and suddenly the cat was the most popular OC I think I've ever written and now there's no way Fred can be without an animal, ever.

Also, just Fred in general. She was supposed to be the sensible one that I had no idea about a pairing for and she is now the most In A Relationship of all of them.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Routine. Capturing the same tension on a page as on screen was really, really satisfying to write, and to have people read.

This is how you know it’s bad, she thought to herself, the whiskey warm in her throat. Marion Brennan is having a drink. But she knew from his face she didn’t need to tell Harry Crosby that. – No record. No record. No record. And one fort - one single, solitary plane, with one single, solitary crew, in the middle of a room that should have been buzzing with voices. Marion felt herself growing smaller, leaning back into the table, hands gripping the edge just so she could feel something, her jaw clenched. Harding sat down next to her, the smell of his cigar and aftershave somehow comforting, his hand nearly on top of hers. And the poor navigator, slumped across the table from Bowman like a schoolboy who’d forgotten his homework. No record.

[kindsummer]

hi peat!! may i request any/all of the following from the writing ask game: ✍️🎁💡💛🎯 (if that’s a lot you can ignore some lol) 🫶🏻 have a lovely day!!

jj you are the best 🥺🥺🥺 i fell asleep yesterday wayyyy too early, so im just getting to this today like a fool. i appreciate you!!! i hope you have an even lovelier day!! <3

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

it's changed over time and i'm sure it will continue to do so, but as of now, the best way for me to write and do so productively (as in, rather quickly), is a very specific situation. i have to be well rested, too, or this doesn't work. i have to be sitting in the living room, have the tv playing something mindless in the background at a low volume, headphones on with music related to whatever i'm working on, and with only the necessary tabs open, i.e. a plot doc and the fic doc. if i get distracted, i allow myself 10-15 minutes of scrolling or watching whatever's in the background.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

this is from my current oc/mota shot to shot rewrite, spiritual successor to the first two i did for band of brothers and the pacific. it's my baby, i love it, i love the ocs, i love the relationships, it is my child. “Do any of us?” Bucky shook his head, glancing over to Buck again, subconsciously voicing his own previous internal struggle. “If I got possessed demonically, I wouldn’t even notice with everything else I got going on. That’s just how it is, for people like us.” His fingers fiddled with a cigarette, not lighting it or bringing it to his lips for a drag, but simply rolling the pads over the folded paper. “We feel like all we have is rage or self pity, but there’s more to life and there’s more to us. It’s okay to be scared, you just have to act through that fear. That’s what bravery is, and kid, you have more than enough of that. And that chutzpah thing I’ve heard about.” Matt smiled, feeling more indebted to Bucky than he had before, which was saying something. Bucky reminded him a lot of Jon, at the same age and wielding the same ability to lighten the load when it got too heavy to bear. “Maybe after the war. When I’m sure he won’t die in some fucking explosion or failing mechanics or flak. I don’t think I could take that, not again.” “Only the dead know the end of war, Matty,” Bucky replied, far too sagely and sanely for either of their liking. “Gotta live in the here and now. You never know when your last moment will be, so you have to take the chances, even if you’re scared by the outcome.”

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

partially written, i have: 6. ones fully plotted out that i haven't started: 37.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

sometimes, the piece you're working on is made better by the author allowing their emotions to flow through their (metaphorical) pen. a lot of fics i've written were altered by the mood i was in while working on them, like, in drastic ways, but then they made more sense and held much more depth than they initially did because of how they changed. so, let yourself feel while you're writing, you'll never know where it'll take you until you're done.

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

i don't think of myself as having a milestone really, but i would love to finish all the things i have plotted out eventually. it will probably take years because it's...a lot, but that would be cool. my secret milestone is to become prolific enough to receive a plethora of comments that inspire me to keep working on wips, especially if it transfers to tumblr. a small, active fan base would truly make me feel like what i'm writing is worth it (it being time and energy, one of which i have little of). more than it just being writing for myself because it's hard for me to find something published that gets me and how i read canon in the way that my own fics do.

fanfic writer ask game !!

[ronsenthal]

hey jess! just stopping by with some love and hugs for you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Awww thank you do much jj, sending all the love back right at you 💙

Btw I really love how the colours of our icons matches 🥹

[upontherisers]

cari!! could i ask for alone and betrayal for mahalia and hazel? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

of course!!! here we go

mahalia

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

mahalia has never felt more alone than when she landed in germany after being shot down. not only is she alone, but she knows that she can't go anywhere for help. screw the small german language booklet that she keeps in her flight suit. there's no blending in here. she'll be lucky not to be shot on sight or worse.

generally, i think every eldest daughter is alone, even when their siblings arrive. every person who's the first to do something, like go to college, like join the air force, is alone. spectacularity makes you alone, rising to the top makes you alone. and that never really bothered her because despite that, she has friends and family who know her well and understand her experiences.

when she arrives to tuskegee, she realizes she can be alone together with all of the others who've also risen to the top and she forges tight bonds that means she doesn't feel alone, even when she's locked into her cockpit thousands of feet in the air.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

she hasn't been betrayed by anyone, but she has definitely betrayed someone who loves trusts her. it takes him a long time to come to terms with it and that's all i'm gonna say because i don't want to spoil it.

hazel

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

hazel likes her quiet. she's friendly and can be very chatty, but when it comes time to unwind or entertain herself, she likes solitary tasks, like reading, crossword puzzles, etc. she keeps her peace to herself and she enjoys her own company. but after a personal loss, she finds herself yearning. she wants comfort (not commiseration, she hates the idea of that), and she doesn't know where to start to get it. she has become so used to being the only person she needs that she's confused for a while why she finds herself lingering at the door at the end of the day, wanting a few more moments to speak with jack or sheila. she even thinks that she might have fun at the pub. how nuts!

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

her brother betrayed her when he joined up. it's the maddest she's ever been. he's a smart boy, college educated, was going to join the army and go through ocs, keeping him from the front lines for a bit longer, but then he signed up for the marines and headed out to california for pilot school. she thought he was going to be safe, he promised her he'd stay safe and that he wasn't going to leave her. they'd only just lost their father last year and here marvin was, abandoning her.

she joins the air force in panic and rebellion, which is a betrayal of her mother, who was promised by both of her children that they wouldn't go and do something rash because everyone else was doing it. and the guilt is what keeps her writing her mother nearly every day, and hoping for a letter from marvin that will never come.

not so nice oc asks

[basilone]

I was tagged in a last line tag game by the lovely @saturnwisteria, @moghraidhs, and @mercurygray -- thank you guys! 🧡

I'm tagging @shoshiwrites, @floydmtalbert, @aloveforjaneausten, @thoughpoppiesblow, and @blakelysco-pilot in case anyone's got some last lines to share! 😊

And because it's treats day and because everyone's got me thinking Darlene/Lottie thoughts, I'm revisiting an old piece and adding to it...

And it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it any. Sharing a room with Darlene almost demands that she thinks about it plenty. Thinks about it when she’s brushing her teeth while Darlene’s doing her hair. Thinks about it when Darlene’s applying balm to her feet, when Darlene’s giggling over something she read in a magazine, when Darlene’s eating peaches with cream out of a bowl. Thinks about it while she’s getting ready for bed and sees Darlene all sprawled out on the bed beside hers. Thinks about it while she’s in the shower, while she’s out dancing, while she’s... she’s… Oh. Darlene’s mouth is soft. So gentle against her own, sweet about it in a way that aches, unhurried like Darlene always seems to be. She’s just there with her, hand warm against Lottie’s cheek, breath fanning out over Lottie’s lips, lips tasting more like sugar than the candy Lottie’s been eating. Pressing into Lottie’s space more decisively when she doesn’t say no. The rush of her heartbeat pulses in her ears when she kisses Darlene back.

[blood-mocha-latte]

several sentences sunday

tagged by @thoughpoppiesblow tysm lovely! since the other wip i was working on was posted yesterday, here is the conjuring au. my besotted and beloathed and beloved freak of a fic <3. under the cut because this is certainly Several Sentences lmaooooo

Maybe three minutes after Web leaves – George can hear his engine rev before he drives away – the screen door is pushed open, a gentle creak that could blend in with the soft breeze, save for how familiar it is. George doesn’t open his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” He says. 

Joe just makes a soft, somewhat disagreeable sound and pushes the screen all the way open, shutting it again behind him. “That’s not what I was going to ask.” He says, voice hoarse, but scraped over with warmth. “And casserole for dinner.” 

He drops a hand to George’s shoulder before rounding the chair, and George can’t help his smile, reaching a hand up to close his fingers over Joe’s own before tilting his head upwards. Joe ducks down to kiss him absentmindedly before dropping into the chair previously occupied by the now-departed Web. He sits with his prosthetic straight out in front of him, grimaces as he digs his knuckles into the muscle of his hamstring. 

“Okay.” George says, in reference to the casserole. “What else?” 

Joe propped his elbows on his thighs, scrubbed a hand down his face with a sigh. The band of his wedding ring caught the dying light, made it burn a brighter bronze, and it made something in George’s chest warm. “The doctor called back.” He muttered, and George couldn’t help his smile, knew, somewhat smugly, that he’d been right.

“And I’m fine?” He prompts. Joe shoots him an annoyed look, but drops his hand. 

“You fucked yourself up, not eating or drinking for that long, but other than needing to put on more weight and take electrolytes, there’s nothing permanent.” He says. “You’re not even anemic.” 

“Good genetics.” George says. They’d argued about this, a few days before, when he’d started to get such a bad case of cabin fever that he’d been going through travel brochures that he’d lifted from a gas station a few years back and when Joe didn’t even want him to leave the house. “I’m going on a walk tomorrow.” 

Joe hums, but doesn’t protest. George is glad for it, he knows they’re both tired of the small, inconsequential arguments that keep cropping up following everything. “Bring a cross.” Is all he says, and George can’t help but smile. Shifts enough to kick his leg out, prod at Joe’s good calf with his toe. 

“I love you.” He says, smile bubbling into a laugh when Joe just catches his foot, setting it on his knee, instead.

taggingg @disastrouscanasta @youcalledmebabe @lamialamia @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing @thegrandpineapple @meyerlansky and whoever else would like to do it