#orlissa

[mercurygray]

Sleepover weekend: favorite historical period? 😊

Oh, that's a good one. Probably the 1920s or the 1930s. Everyone is having a revolution, the world is stumbling through what it means after the upheaval of war, the world is going to hell and we're all going with it. There's just so much happening and I think it's a cool period to read about and set fics in.

[sleepover weekend!]

[mercurygray]

Made-up fic title: Lily of the Valley

This is a new episode of Endeavor, which involves a missing girl, a cold case, and features a really great folk revivial setlist, as well as a hip happening pub singer who can also be Morse's love interest for the episode.

(I just feel that Endeavor Morse's particular brand of fatalism is served well by folk music as well as opera.)

[send me a title, get a made-up fic!]

[mercurygray]

Dashboard osmosis: The Golden Girls (if you've watched it, sorry!)

Four extremely sassy older ladies are roommates and get into lots of shenanigans and literally no topics are off limits.

(Sadly, I have never seen a single episode!)

[aloveforjaneausten]

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

The photo albums I got after my grandma passed away. She collected so many pictures! Of her growing up, holidays & family members. (most I never had a chance to meet)

And I love going through them, and feel connected to them.

[aloveforjaneausten]

Top 5 dog breeds 😊

Cavalier king Charles spaniel

Bichon Poodle

Pomeranian.

Yorkie.

Corgi.

They all look so sweet and cuddly and are of a size that works with me.

[mercurygray]

March prompts: Daisy chain 😊

Poets couldn't make more perfect days than this.

The day was clear and warm, the last of the summer slowly dribbling away as autumn poked its head around the corner. Far away across the field the leaves were just starting to turn, and here in the grass everything around them was tall and brown with summer, full of daisies and the very last of the cornflowers.

This was one of the only places on the base they could go to be alone. Bucky was stretched out with his hands folded behind his head, uniform jacket tossed over the bag she'd brought the picnic in. The blanket he was lying on was her standard army issue one, pulled from the end of her bed, and Cord had a sudden thought that when they were done here there was a faint chance it was going to smell like him.

She turned her face up to the sun, closing her eyes and breathing deep. She could remember lots of afternoons like this, sitting out at the air races with her dad, ten or eleven years old and bored to death that they had to sit and watch another round of planes go by. He'd pulled up dandelions, in between the heats, and taught her how to make them into crowns, grabbing the longest and leggiest plants. I used to make these for your mother, he'd told her, hands moving gracefully in and out.

It wasn't until she was older that she realized that it wasn't ever her mother sending her away but her father taking her with - to share something that mattered to him, sure, but to get her out of the house for the afternoon, give her mother time to rest. That was early, when they didn't know how sick she was - or how much time she had left.

Two years later, when the grass was starting to grow over her grave, when the air races were back she asked to go. They sat in the outfield with their orange Nehis and wax-papered sandwiches, and Cord remembered aloud how her mom had always made them ham and cheese. Her father explained that was because it was easy, and he'd never told her how much he hated ham, and Cord realized then just how much her father missed her mother.

Her fingers still remembered the movements, after a few false starts - she snuck some cornflowers in, here and there, just to see how the blue looked.

"Here, sit up."

Bucky opened his eyes and sniffed, forcing himself upright, and she placed the circlet of flowers on his head and sat back on her knees to admire him, the sun touching the flowers with extra snap, their white faces brilliant in the sunshine.

He gingerly touched the crown, his fingers almost comically large next to the little daisies. "How do I look?" he asked. "Does this make me king of something?"

"Do you want to be king?"

"I do, yeah." His smile was all warmth and summer, eyes creasing with joy, and she thought for a moment of Puck, ready to make mischief.

"King of the pilots?"

"Nah, I'm already one of those," he said with a grin, leaning forward so his face was closer to her own, raising one hand to her face, his thumb tracing the line of her chin. "I want to be the king of kissing you."

He said things and meant them, John Egan, and she both knew that it was silly to argue and pointless to try. "Guess you'd better get started then," she said, and his lips were sudden and warm, his body urging her backwards until she was giggling in the grass, and he was opening her shirt, and the daisies were tickling her skin, and she was at home in his arms and queen of everything.

[mercurygray]

😘🥰

[polikszena]

Thank you!! 😊