#I hope this is wwII enough!!

[yeagrave]

hello hello! I think it would be cool too see WWII hangster (if that's something you're interested in!!)

homecoming :')

[judaismandsuch]

An Open Letter to Dropout

@dropoutdottv I am disappointed in you.

I know that this will not change your policy, nor will you make a folloe up statement, as proportion wise the number of people you have lost from your last post, vs. the number of people you will lose should you make an apology and walk back the statement are not in any way the comparable.

But you have failed your Jewish audience.

A group of your viewers accused an openly and actively Jewish guest on one of your shows of being Zionist. Despite him not making any statements since the few days after October 7th.

So you made a statement, saying that no one you have had on identifies themselves as such. And that even if anyone did you would give them the room to grow, and learn, and repent from such a horrific view.

That you condemn the genocide. Which hasn't been found to be a genocide by the international court. Which has a death toll of combatants-to-civilians far less than even just the bombing of Dresden of WWII. An event can be horrific without being genocide. But calling it 'monstrous' or 'horrific' wouldn't have placated people.

Though I noticed that you haven't spoken about the genocide (or at least, wide spread persecution and inhumane treatment) of Uyghurs in China. But that may lead to you becoming completely banned in China. Which could impact your bottom line.

You will give more money to PCRF, and you encourage people to donate to UNRWA.

What is wrong with you?

What is it, that an accusation of 'Zionist', which can mean anything from "Israel exists now, and it no longer existing is bad" to the Kahanist definition, requires an immediate response and excuse?

You continue to recommend supporting UNRWA, despite documented proof that UNRWA members took part in October 7th.

In your first milque-toast response to your Discord's meltdown on the subject you supported JVP, and mentioned that there are several equally horrific events going on around the world.

But you haven't supported any of the other causes.

Several of them are far worse than what is happening in Gaza, but you haven't raised a cent for them.

You continue to tacitly support JVP, despite any affiliated Jew saying that they are clearly not Jewish. There practices show that they don't understand Judaism, and their founders and board of directors is mainly non-Jews. They have a page on ADL describing all the Antisemitic acts that they have done. But you still keep a pinned post in support of them.

Why aren't you fundraising for WCK? They do good work in Gaza, and unlike the rest of the groups you platformed, they haven't had a single accusation of association with Hamas.

But, you treat a baseless call of 'Zionist' as if it were a nearly credible call of 'Nazi'.

You make a post on this, the day before the American Election, but haven't even done a single 'go out to vote' post?

What is wrong with you?

Are you afraid that because @samreich is Jewish, if you don't get in front of demands that all obvious Jews you have on demonstrate their alliance with 'the cause', people will start to ask if Sam Reich is 'one of the good ones'?

To be clear, this isn't antisemitism.

This is performing for an audience that doesn't realise that a witch hunt for Jews, demanding that the Jews show that they are 'good jews' is in fact antisemitism.

This is focusing on one conflict to the exclusion of all others. Perhaps Myanmar and Sudan just aren't that important. Afterall, no one is talking about them.

Feeling the need to address baseless accusations thrown on obvious Jews that haven't performed well enough.

You have sent your message.

I am unwelcome.

I hope it was worth it

[copperbadge]

So the algorithms have informed me of a White Collar reboot: https:// variety.com /2024/tv/news/white-collar-reboot-willie-garson-1236028159/

Which hope is more futile: no more Nazi loot, or canon OT3?

Oh, no, it's like running into an ex you dumped years ago because they were awful but they look amazing and are obviously flirting with you. Oh, no, White Collar, I cannot allow you to break my heart a second time.

I feel like...Jeff Easton did not react super great to the entirely justified yelling about the badly mishandled Nazi Loot plotline last time, but I do think he maybe learned that Nazis are in fact a real thing and not a plot point that you get to play with however you like. And the climate vis-a-vis fascism in 2024 is very different from what it was in 2011. I think any production or distribution company would give him much less of a free hand in terms of "Let's do a lighthearted dramedy plotline about the lasting ramifications of intentional and industrialized genocide. Oh, we will mostly ignore the genocide part, don't worry."

Fuck, I hope. I never even watched the last season of the last run. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Maybe I'm a sucker, I've been a sucker before, but even though I probably won't watch it, I want to believe that "no more nazi loot" has strong odds. As for a canon OT3...yeah, awful as it is, I want that to be the futile hope, because if it's between "no nazis" or "my OT3 but nazis" I'm going with "no nazis" and if folks feel differently they should quietly walk away from me right now.

Not that you can never write a story with nazi loot in it and make it good and meaningful, but you have to first realize that WWII was not just a setting for an Indiana Jones movie. I'm not confident a lot of people in the White Collar writers room have had this realization.

Man, you either don't get renewed for a third season or you live long enough to become a villain. (Or you are John Rogers. John Rogers, please do not let me down.)

[stillunusual]

The word "Nazi" has a specific meaning to normal people, but to vatniks and tankies it has five basic meanings…. "anybody I don't like" "anybody who disagrees with me" "anybody who's a citizen of a country that Russia wants to invade" "anybody who opposed or simply didn't want to live in one of the tyrannical regimes I simp for" "anybody who was oppressed or killed by one of my favourite mass murderers" EDITED TO ADD: a tankie clown reblogged this post and made some typically asinine comments, so I thought I'd elaborate a little bit…. Tankie clown: @well1x is either referring to the fact that a lot of the "deaths under communism" listed in "the black book of communism" (which gives us the 10 million number or whatever) are quite literally Nazis in WWII, or they're referring to the fact that the only people who have been made to deliberately suffer under communism have been literal Nazis and fascists (generally speaking)

Joining the tankie cult requires you to live in a delusional clown world and believe in a shit ton of made up (and often contradictory) nonsense that requires a considerable repertoire of mental gymnastics (and lies) to maintain….

@well1x is literally trying to claim that all victims of communism are "nazis and facists" (sic), which - back in the real world - is a very obvious lie. It's also a blatant example of victim blaming. For example, most of the millions of men, women and children who were robbed, raped, imprisoned, sent to the gulags, tortured, starved to death, executed or ethnically cleansed by Stalin's henchmen were not Nazis or fascists, and many were innocent of any crime. The vast majority of the population in Stalin's Soviet Union also had to put up with crippling poverty and backwardness, the brutal suppression of their religious and community life and the total lack of freedom.

Based on his comment, I doubt if the tankie clown has ever read "the black book of communism" and I'm also not sure why he mentions this book in particular, when there are thousands of others that thoroughly document the numerous crimes of the regimes tankies insist on being the useful idiots for, and I think it's safe to assume that he hasn't read any of those books either (in fact, I doubt if he's ever read any book whatsoever)…. Tankie clown: Karina then shows an image of (presumably) some kids in the Ukraine famine. This is completely unrelated though because this famine was not manufactured by the USSR as say the Irish famine was by the English. Can't really attribute natural disaster to "muh communism"

Again - a typical genocide-denying tankie lie.

Tankies generally start by saying that the holodomor was Nazi propaganda, and when you debunk that they claim it was just a natural disaster, and when that doesn't work they make up some bullshit about how millions of farmers who barely had enough to live on were wealthy kulaks who burned crops and slaughtered cattle (and therefore deserved to die). And when you point out that the red army actually broke into their homes and confiscated all their grain, every cow or chicken or any other food they had, and that the Soviet authorities blacklisted villages, sometimes purely for containing relatives of Ukrainian independence fighters, and prevented the villagers from leaving, shot them for even collecting ears of grain from the fields, and watched them starve to death - tankies will just deny it, or laugh, or pretend that millions of holodomor victims were all rich landlords (and therefore deserved to die) etc etc….

I've also never seen English people pretending that the Irish famine never happened, or claiming that the victims deserved it, or that it was a good thing, or that Britain should re-conquer Ireland. On the other hand, it's difficult not to notice Stalin's smooth-brained groupies swarming all over social media every day denying or justifying the holodomor and other crimes of Russia and the USSR, and hoping that Russia not only re-conquers Ukraine but also Finland, the Baltics, Poland and other countries it has invaded and occupied in the past.

There's no point trying to reason with tankies using facts, logic or common sense - and appealing to their sense of decency while they're simping for their favourite mass murderers is a complete waste of time. Tankie clown: Karina then says @well1x is defending imperialism(???), defending ethnic cleansing (which …what??), dreaming about labour camps and mass shootings (for Nazis yes plz), and does not do any praxis (based on?).

Yep - most tankie clowns claim to be communists while simultaneously embracing Russian fascism, supporting the imperialism of Russia’s mega-rich ruling class, mindlessly repeating the Kremlin's propaganda and cheerleading their war crimes. These morons seem to have no idea that the Russian Federation is an empire made up of many conquered states that Russia invaded, occupied and colonised in the 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, or that Russia's war against Ukraine is a brutal attempt to reassert control over one of its former colonies. Russia's history of imperialism is at least as bad as that of any western country - and they're still doing it in the 21st century.

And I have seen countless examples of tankies speaking openly of wanting to mass murder their ideological enemies (or people they don't like) - because they also delude themselves into believing that if their revolutionary dreams ever came true, they'd be the ones doing the arresting and killing, despite the fact that in a real revolution they'd be about as much use as a fart in a spacesuit. They also have no idea how their small dick energy is somehow going to bring capitalism to its knees, which they'd inevitably end up crying about if it ever actually happened in reality.

Most of them are complete losers who spend the majority of their time sitting in their bedrooms huffing their own farts while reading tankie fan fiction online. Tankie clowns also claim to be against western imperialism and capitalism, despite living comfortable lives in western capitalist countries and owing everything they have to capitalism, including the freedom to use their capitalist smartphones or laptops to post anti-capitalist tantrums on social media platforms owned by western capitalists (thus helping these western capitalists to maximise their profits).

This is generally the sum total of a typical tankie's - ahem - "revolutionary" activity.

The vast majority of tankie clowns wouldn't dream of ever giving up the comforts of capitalism to move to one of the authoritarian shitholes they stupidly simp for, because then they might not be able to play their favourite capitalist video games anymore….

It's also a fact that Russia and the USSR have ethnically cleansed millions of people. Tankie clown: OP takes this insane train all the way to the station, and says @well1x is talking about anyone they don't like which… no. They're talking about the traditional Nazis.

No - they're falsely claiming that all victims of communism are Nazis and fascists. Learn to read…. Tankie clown: But also let's break this down. Who does OP think is being called a Nazi? "anyone I don't like" I mean I don't like Nazis, but I don't think everyone I don't like is one lmao. Funny tho, dude throws around the word tankie until it has no meaning.

In my experience, if you disagree with tankies about anything, they will pretty soon call you a fascist or a Nazi. It's they who throw around words like "fascist" and "Nazi" until they have no meaning (and most of them hilariously claim to be opposed to fascism while simultaneously supporting it - if it happens to be Russian). Tankie clown: - "anyone who disagrees with me" if you disagree that all human beings deserve to live a dignified life regardless of race/sex/gender identity/sexual orientation/age/disability/whatever then yeah you probably are a Nazi

Straw man. See above….

It's also amusing to observe the doublethink of somebody who apparently believes that "all human beings deserve to live a dignified life" while simultaneously thinking that when his favourite mass murderers oppressed and/or killed huge numbers of people it was perfectly OK…. Tankie clown: - "anyone who's a citizen of a country that Russia wants to invade" why the fuck are we talking about Russia? Believe it or not OP, USSR does not stand for "United Soviet States of Russia" lmaoooo

We're talking about Russia because most tankie clowns support Russian imperialism and mindlessly parrot the Kremlin's propaganda about how Russia's latest invasion of Ukraine is some sort of special de-nazification operation (see above). Tankies are generally so ignorant, gullible and stupid that they will literally believe anything the Kremlin tells them…. Tankie clown: - "anyone opposed or simply didn't want to live in one of the tyrannical regimes I simp for" tyrannical regimes lmao. These were only "tyrannical regimes" for people who actually were in fact Nazis.

Again - this is the kind of reality-denying nonsense I'd expect to hear from a tankie clown. One thing that really appalls people in the central and eastern European countries that experienced the reality of being occupied by the USSR and/or Russia, is the staggering ignorance and stupidity of western useful idiots who have no idea what it was actually like, and are not only dumb enough to join the tankie cult, but insist on westsplaining to the victims and their descendants about how the horrors they and their families suffered (usually for doing literally nothing) either didn't happen ("cuz the CIA made it all up") or claiming that they somehow deserved it ("cuz they were all Nazis/fascists/kulaks/slave owners").

Back in the real world, these were tyrannical regimes for tens of millions of ordinary people who had done nothing to deserve being subjected to tyranny…. Tankie clown: - "anyone who was oppressed or killed by one of my favourite mass murderers" yeah basically that's what I've been saying.

Thanks for proving my point….

And please note that smoking weed on your mum's sofa isn't actually going to bring the world revolution closer.

That was just a joke…. 🤣😂

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

smut ,Joe liebgot and the reader dry humping and slightly pleasing eachother in there foxhole in the cold

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Anon, I loved this prompt! Thank you! I hope you enjoy it! ;)

Warnings: 18+ content sorta, dry humping, making-out, cursing, she/her pronouns, 1st person pov (female).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: This was fun to write and I enjoyed the idea a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it! Please comment, like, reblog :) :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another gust of wind lifts the tarp covering the top of our foxhole, blasting cold, wet air around us effectively stealing what little warmth we'd managed build up around ourselves.

"Goddamn it! When this is over, I never want to see the rain or snow ever again." I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it's damp and can only do so much.

"Quit bitching, you're ruining the mood." Liebgott smirks at the glare I shoot him.

"Fuck you." Any venom I have in my voice is lost as my teeth chatter.

"Would love to, but it's too cold." I see him shiver slightly.

"Glad to know that's the only reason." I roll my eyes.

"Course it is." He shoots me a wink and I feel a little bit of heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. Suddenly I'm thankful it's pitch black right now so he can't see my blush.

"Shut up." I mutter half heartedly, shoving his shoulder before attempting to get comfortable next to him. We are silent for a few minutes as, I assume, we try to get semi warm enough to doze a little until he speaks again.

"You know...sharing body heat is a great way to get warm." His voice is low but the words bounce around us on the wind. Again, I send a thank you to the universe that he can't see how flushed I am. I turn my head to tell him to shut up again and find his eyes already on me. The heat in his eyes has the words dying on my tongue.

"What?" Is all I can manage to get out, which I mentally kick myself for. Real smooth. His hand slips out from under his own blanket and grabs mine, tugging me towards him.

"Come here." He moves me around like I'm his own personal ragdoll, rearranging our blankets so one's over the top of our heads and shoulders and the other is around my back with the ends tucked behind him. The new position has be straddling his lap, our bodies centimeters away and our faces so close we are sharing each others breathes. I can feel his hands rubbing up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips every other time. My own arms are draped around his shoulders.

Joe nudges my nose with his. "Told you this would be warmer." All I can do is nod, making him smirk. "I don't know about you, but my lips are still cold."

At his words my eyes drop down to his lips and watch as his tongue runs over them, then look back to his eyes that haven't lost their heat. I make the split second decision to worry about the consequences and what-ifs at a later date and close the gap between us. He eagerly kisses me back, moving one hand to the back of my neck to hold my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist to keep me flush against him.

Our tongues meet and we enjoy a long exploration of each others mouths; licking and sucking and nipping. After a particularly sharp bite on my bottom lip, I grind down onto his lap and then groan at the feel of his growing erection beneath me. I grind down again and this time Joe groans with me.

"Do it again, baby." He pleads against my lips. When I do he kisses me again to muffle the noises we make. I move one of my hands to grip his upper arm tightly to help my leverage and swivel my hips until I find the angle that gives us both the pleasure we need. Once I find that I set a hard pace that Joe eagerly lifts his hips to match.

Soon the cold around us is forgotten as we focus on keeping the other quiet and chasing the pleasure building inside us. Joe lets go of my neck and I feel both his hands grabbing my ass, using it to press me harder against him. My pace starts to become erratic.

"Fuck, I'm close Joe." Joe gives me a hard nip on my jawline and whispers in my ear.

"I got you, let go baby." My head turns to the side and I bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to hide my moan as much as possible. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel Joe's movements becoming more frantic. I turn my head away from his shoulder, nipping at the bit of flesh exposed on his neck and then his jawline.

Three thrusts later he stills beneath me, breathing heavily as he lets out curses and my name. We melt even more into each other, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss and warmth we created around us. Just as I'm drifting off, I feel Joe drop a kiss on the top of my head and my heart flutters.

But that's something to address at a later time.

[peachdues]

Hi Peach!

I hope you are doing well

I just seen your reblog about the DS Mark and in the tags you had mentioned WWII

I hope this isn’t nosey but I was just wondering what your theory/explanation about the war was as I was curious to see if we had the same thoughts about it

My headcannon is that Sanemi and Giyuu survive the mark but I always pictured them passing away during the war in their early 50s

X

Okay! Theory time! Slight spoilers for KNY ahead.

So first and foremost, we never have proof that the curse is actually real — it’s a theory. we never get direct confirmation that the 25 thing is true. The Corps does not have a good track record when it comes to life expectancy. Muzan is also not a reliable source — he has an ulterior motive in baiting Tanjiro to become his new vessel.

But even setting that aside, the “dead before 25” thing just isn’t feasible — especially for Sanemi and Giyuu. To break it down, let’s take a look at the canonical timeline and both men’s ages at the end of the series:

When we first meet Giyuu/Sanemi, both are 21 years old. Following @demonslayedher ‘s timeline (which is wonderful and the most accurate I’ve seen), the final battle with Muzan happens a few months later, most likely in January.

We don’t for sure whether Sanemi or Giyuu is older than the other — as in, we don’t know who turned 21 first. Sanemi very well could be 22 by the time the final battle happens and we know Giyuu has his 22nd birthday between the end of the battle and Tanjiro regaining consciousness (the timeline estimates Tanjiro wakes up sometime in March if I remember correctly). That means either Sanemi is 21 at that time (to turn 22 months later) or he’s already 22, going on 23 in about eight months time.

We get a year update from Tanjiro (one year after the ending of the main series). this means Sanemi and Giyuu are at least 23, and possibly one of them is 24 (or near that age).

We know, based on the update, that Giyuu and Sanemi are both still adjusting to their new lives post-Demon Slayer Corps. There is no mention either of them have settled down. In fact, at the end of the main series, it appears both are traveling to an extent (enjoying the youth they haven’t experienced).

Applying the “Sanemi and Giyuu die before 25” theory, that means they both have just over a year (at MOST maybe a year and a half or two years) to find a wife and settle down — AND have children. One pregnancy = 9 months, so that shortens their window even more. Why? Because of the epilogue.

We know that both Giyuu and Sanemi have at least one descendant who has carried their surname into the modern age. In a patriarchal society, surnames pass with male children. So not only would Sanemi and Giyuu have less than two years left to find a bride (and I don’t think either of them settle for the first woman who comes along) and impregnate her, but they *also* had to have both had a male child on the first try. Otherwise, there is simply no time for either of them to keep trying for children until they produce a male, which, again, they already lose 9 months with one pregnancy.

I’m not saying this scenario is impossible — but also think about the greater context of history. Demon Slayer is a historical fantasy set during the Taisho Era. Thus, while demons certainly don’t exist in the real world, KNY incorporates much of the history of that time period into its story — the Taisho era setting is almost its own character.

And what happens about 20-ish years after the end of the series? WW2. A time that resulted in massive loss of life to Japanese citizens as a result of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings (plus the war in general).

So, not only would Sanemi and Giyuu both had to have had a male child in the short one year before their theorized deaths, but those male children had to have survived long enough to reproduce with more male children to continue the family name into the modern age. Again, not impossible, but considerably less likely given the historical context, never mind the realities of being a human.

All this to say, to actually apply the 25 theory means a lot of variables have to align perfectly — more so than is almost believable.

TL;DR — it’s a theory at best, but correlation does not equal causation. That slayers who manifested the mark died before 25 isn’t surprising given the context. The mark manifests when the slayer is pushed to their absolute limit — meaning they simply can’t fight any better. It makes sense then that their body gives up, or that they lose especially because everyone’s limit is different. A weaker slayer can manifest the mark and be no where near the strength of a hashira, so it makes sense they die against a demon with the strength of an upper moon.

Simply put, we have no hard confirmation that Sanemi and Giyuu will die before 25 — and even if they did, that undercuts the significance of their own endings, which further casts doubt on its validity.

I could go on about this, but I’m probably rambling. But that’s my summary in general!

[love-minor-poltergeist]

A/N: I saw the positive reception that my Barbi hcs and I wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you kindly!! I always find myself feeling apprehensive on deviating from the fandoms I usually write for, so the fact that you all seemed to liked my Barbi content means a lot! (〃＾▽＾〃)

In the spirit of things, I decided to try my hand at baking a batch of hcs for our lovely, awful Police Sergeant Coyle! I will admit that his character was a little bit more difficult to write for since there's a lot uncomfortable themes and ideals related to his character. However! I welcome the challenge and hope that these turned out okay. Lemme know what y'all think!!

!Content Warning!: There's a passing mention of CSA/Childhood Sexual Abuse since the comics implied that it happened, and while it's only mentioned very briefly, it's better to play it safe

General Leland Coyle Headcanons:

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Ever since his father served in the military briefly in WWII, which subsequently left the older man an invalid– having lost a foot and permanently unable to walk normally– Leland was left to carry out most of the physical labor around him and his family’s cattle farm. Pa would still insist on bossin’ him around, though, and Leland usually had to be the one to help him walk the fields while dealing with the cattle. Of course, once he joined the local police force, most of those duties fell upon his ma. 

Granted, in his ever charming views, he always thought Ma did a crap job of the physical work, so he’d usually take over anyway. All the while he and Ma argued back and forth on the fields.

An average day, if he wasn’t off dealing with police duties, he’d watch the cattle and make sure they’ve eaten and prod any escapees back into the fields. He was none too gentle, either, and he’s earned his fair share of bruises and narrowly avoided a few nasty kicks. Leland’s even got a particularly nasty scar on his lower abdomen from getting gored by a rowdy heifer. It luckily wasn’t deep enough to get him sent to the hospital, but boy did his parents ridicule him for being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place. 

Cannot cook for the life of him. Pa drilled it into his head that cooking was a woman's job, so he never really bothered to learn. All of the housework was handled by his wives, and god forbid if they wanted a break from it… During the brief stints between each marriage, Leland’s survived off diner food, cigarettes, coffee, and the occasional frozen tv dinner. 

On the other hand, however, he’s completely fine with a man cooking if it’s to handle a grill. Hell, Pa was the one to teach him how to prepare meat after they’ve sent their cattle off to the slaughterhouse, and goddamn can he cook a mean steak. Now that he thinks about it, Leland sometimes wished he paid more attention on how to make fried chicken when his Ma tried to show him… 

The Coyle family were devout Christians and attended Sunday mass each week. Of course, Leland doesn’t practice the religion much as he grew older, but much of the values taught to him remained; most of them perverted to fit his ideals. 

Thanks to his chronic smoking habit, Leland’s appetite is close to nonexistent. He does it so much that the other officers of the Blackwell Police Department often joked about how Sergeant Coyle’s office may as well have been an oven with how much smoke emanated from his office. However, given how he’s the one to handle most of the paperwork until the asscrack of dawn, and with only a cigarette and numerous cups of coffee littering his desk to keep him going, no one really complained. 

Usually shaves his head during the summer time. Sure, he’s a vain man, but it’s become a habit after his time in the military. Not to mention that it usually helped him keep cool during the days where he toiled in the fields with the sun beating down on he and Ma. The habit followed him into the Sinyala facility, where staff usually had to shear him down since, though he’s a Prime Asset and thus has special privileges, he’s still not to be trusted with anything sharp. 

Has extensive firearm training. Pa first showed him how to handle a rifle whenever the farm had to deal with coyotes and stray dogs that harassed the livestock. On the offtime there wasn’t anything to shoot, young Leland was usually spotted by the fence posts in the outer perimeter of the farm, practicing his aim with a few cans and empty bottles. Which eventually graduated to shooting at any unlucky birds or cats that wandered too close to the property. He was also put in charge of putting down any sickly cattle, too, after Pa was left crippled.

His aim only got better thanks to his time in Okinawa. He’s got more experience in rifles and pistols, but he has a natural knack for machinery, and he’s a quick learner. Not to mention that he follows gun safety to a fuckin’ T…. Which only made him even more offended when he learned that some deformed, baby-talkin’ runt got a gun before he did in Sinyala. 

Usually has a sore back after trials. Sure, he can handle lugging around that pontiac car battery on his back for hours if he needed to, but goddamn is that thing heavy. First thing he does after a trial is stretch until he hears his back pop. 

Suffers from really nasty night terrors. Going back to his comic and how it briefly touched on how Leland’s exhibited signs of CSA, it’s highly possible that much of the abuse occurred behind closed doors and at night, where everyone else was asleep. He’s avoided sleep like the plague since then. Both as a means of trying to protect himself and not have to deal with constantly reliving the incident. He’s never talked to anyone about it, and refuses to do so. 

He’s also coped with it via hypersexualising himself and inflicting pain on others. It gives him a sense of control and a rush of power that was stripped away from him. Silently vowed to never let himself be that vulnerable again.

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

[shelyue99]

You see the three musketeers sit around the table here shooting the bull, so while it rolls on I'll see if I can make any sense out of this. The three are Irishmen-one Capt. Nixon, and Lt. Welsh and last of all the Major. Now Capt. Nixon is the biggest drunk I've ever seen, known, or hope to see. He's worth a small fortune, never'll have to work a lick in his life, but absolutely the most reliable man I've ever known. Welsh is as bullheaded as you'd expect an Irishman to be.

—May 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

At the present time we're (Nixon and I) ribbing Lt. Welsh about marrying an Irish girl by the name of Kitty Grogan. He hopes to be married inside of four months. We're carefully explaining that some 4F will grab her off before that. If he does manage to get married, we promise to steal the bride for the balance of his leave unless he hires us to protect him from others who may have the same intentions. Price is 1 qt. of scotch for Nixon and 1 qt. of ice cream for myself. He doesn't take us seriously.

—May 30, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

I've mentioned Capt. Nixon I believe, of Nixon, N.J. [W]ell I've got him writing his first letter since last Nov. to his wife. Quite a guy, he's having one hell of a time getting organized and down to work. Claims he hasn't anything to say to her, just to his dog. He has a baby boy that he's never seen, but he won't talk about his son, it's always his dog. Knowing you, why I know you could spend an enjoyable two or three hours talking about how awful he is-if you knew him. However I'll tell you he's idealistic. I've known him three years and lived and slept aside and fought with him for two. This guy loves one thing right at this stage of life: a bottle of spirits or a fight. He's OK in a fight, but Jesus, outside of that he's absolutely the most undependable man you'd ever want to find.

Since we've been overseas he's only run around with one girl. An English girl and she was anything but beautiful. However she was a good listener and companion. In fact I am not too sure but this guy might end up staying over here in England. Ah yes, things are really snafu-and don't ask me what that means.

Now here we have Welsh & Nixon mixing Vodka, rum & vermouth-oh boy it won't be long now.

—June 2, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

(Writing about the job offer at Nixon Nitration Works) “I don't count on a thing until I have it," Dick confessed, "but it sounds good."

—September 2,  1945, Letter to DeEtta

Do you know what this new regimental C.O. has gone and done? Declared me essential. Why? Well you know all those nice things one can say at a time like that. Me, with 100 points as of V-E Day, and about the only officer in the regiment who has enough points to get out, and who doesn't want any part of the army, stuck until the division goes home. Which won't be this year. Boy, do you smell smoke? Don't worry, it's just me.

Capt. Nixon left this week, which makes everything just dandy. I am about as lonesome as a lovesick swab who married a Wave on an eight hour pass.

—September 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

From “Hang Tough: The WWII Letters and Artifacts of Major Dick Winters”

[floralcyanide]

ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴊᴏʜɴ “ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ” ᴇɢᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ɪɪ

Your job at the museum teaches you more than you think when it’s opening night for a WWII exhibit.

pairing: professor!john "bucky" egan / fem!reader

warnings: none!

author’s note: I'm thinking the next part to this will be an actual fanfic but we'll see (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

✦ You work hard on your first paper based on your thesis. Dr. Egan gives you pointers here and there. Sometimes, you go to his office just to chat when you aren’t doing research. 

✦ He doesn’t go into detail about his personal life, but you do know he’s divorced and has a kid who’s a teenager. He talks about his son a lot, and it brings a smile to your face. Dr. Egan says he hopes his son is just as smart as you when he gets to college. 

✦ He mentions a trip to DC for the Master’s program. You jump at the idea, much to Dr. Evan’s delight. You ask if he’s going, and he says no. You wonder why but don’t bother to ask. There’s a lot that Dr. Egan doesn’t seem like he wishes to tell you. And you wonder if it’s simply because he’s your superior or if it’s something else. Either way, you’re curious. But you don’t want to cross a line. 

✦ You talk a lot about your grandfather to Professor Egan; he always listens patiently and even gives you a moment to gather yourself when you become emotional. You also talk about your father a good bit. Dr. Egan asks what he does, and you explain that he used to be a pilot in the last war. Dr. Egan makes a peculiar face but brushes it off quickly.

✦ He asks what squadron your father was in. “My father was in the Hundredth. He talks about his experience a lot.” Dr. Egan suddenly checks his watch and excuses himself, saying he had to be somewhere and that you were welcome to return to his office tomorrow.

✦ You leave confused about what caused the sudden change in Professor Egan's demeanor but shake it off. You do come again the following day and bring coffee, apologizing for anything you may have bothered him with.

✦ “It wasn’t anything you said, don’t worry,” Dr. Egan says, “I just lost track of time. I tend to do that with you a lot.” You try not to get flustered at his comment when he gives you a soft smile with it. 

✦ Whenever you aren’t researching or hanging with Dr. Egan, you work at the local World War II museum, creating exhibits and giving guests tours. It’s the opening of the new exhibit of the airmen of the war tonight, and you’re dressed your best. You’re happy to explain to guests the timeline of the war and show them photographs and artifacts. 

✦ A familiar figure catches your eye. You notice a tall, graying man with his hands shoved in his pockets, eyeing photos of the squadron your father was in that he donated to the exhibit. You approach the man, “Have any questions?” he turns around, and sure enough, it’s Dr. Egan.

✦ “Professor Egan! I didn’t expect you to be here!” you smile as he looks at you knowingly, with a bit of defeat. “I knew you’d be here, actually,” he says. You give him a confused look.

✦ Dr. Egan points at the group photo of the remaining airmen from the 100th who live to V Day to a specific man with a dashing grin. “See this guy here? Does he look familiar to you?” You squint, leaning close to the photograph you’ve seen many times. Then you realize that dashing smile only belongs to one person.

✦ You carefully look over to Dr. Egan, unsure of what to say. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask. “Didn’t want people, especially students, to see me differently.” “How would they see you in any way other than a hero?” you ask, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not really the ideal profession,” Dr. Egan swallows, unable to look you in the eye. You sigh, “It was war, Professor. You did what needed to be done, unfortunately. And it’s over now.”

✦ “I just felt you needed to know about my past,” Dr. Egan admits, “Especially since we’ve grown so close professionally and your father was in the same squadron as me. It was only time before you found out.”

✦ “I’d love to know everything you’re willing to tell me. Especially since it’ll help with my research. Not to mention there’s probably stuff my father never mentioned,” you chuckle. There’s a mischievous glint in Dr. Egan’s eye at that statement. “Lunch tomorrow?”

[t0mbst0ne]

fic recs!!

keep on keeping on, dean winchester by quentsy

THEE widower arc fic. very beautiful about dean's grief and cas' return.

psalm 40:2 by unicornpoe

I think about this fic once a week. pre-series dean with s15 cas. can't say enough about this one

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

a classic of course, wwii au with medic dean and CO cas

if you look into my brain "you idiot, you asshole, this is what it feels like" is rattling around there

profoundly bonded (by law) by sobsicles

post-series fix it au? very sweet, my hope for the inevitable season 16

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets

dean is a poet (undercover) and cas is an english professor and the poetry in this one makes me wanna torch something with fire because of the love in my veins

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination) by sobsicles

honestly just go read anything by this author, post-series, deancas, boom bang, you got it

[aninventoryofthepossible]

Inspirations for VOID 1680 AM

Earlier this year, I released a new solo TTRPG: VOID 1680 AM. In it, you use a deck of cards, a six-sided die, your music collection and a voice recorder to create your own late-night radio show.

The cards help you dig deep into your collection to reconnect with music you love; they and the die also help you create anonymous Callers and the concerns, hopes and obsessions that drove them to reach out to you, a fellow lone voice in the darkness.

I also included steps for joining the library of Callers for other players to use, and even to submit your full show for broadcast on the "real" VOID 1680 AM. You can see some of those Affiliate broadcasts here. They're genuinely very cool.

You can check out the game here, and I'm proud to say VOID 1680 AM is now a Judges' Spotlight Winner in this year's ENNIES.

Okay, enough table-setting. Let's get into it.

VOID was the culmination of a lifelong obsession with commercial radio; both the technology (which feels retro despite scarcely being over a century old) and the melancholy romance of lonesome voices baring themselves to an audience they'll never know the scope of.

This, to me, is an apt metaphor for the act of making something - anything at all. Speak into the Void, the back cover copy says. You never know who is listening. So it is with putting something you love into the world.

So what inspired VOID? I cite both Anamnesis by Sam Leigh and The Wretched by Chris Bissette in the book itself, two solo RPGs whose tones and methods did much to help me find my own.

But if I'm being truthful, VOID's inspirations mostly reside outside of games. Here are a few things that haunted me profoundly enough to drive me to respond.

The first is Talk Radio, specifically Oliver Stone's adaptation of Eric Bogosian's play. The movie's tagline is "the last neighborhood in America," which to me frames radio's persistent relevance and puts social media - often called a "town square" itself - in proper context as one piece of the many ways people find connection with others, for better or worse.

Contra the VOID DJ, Barry in Talk Radio is very, very aware of how his audience receives him (hint: not well). Barry must be heard, and so must the similarly damaged souls who call in to dump the poison in their brain into his... and everyone who's listening in, besides. It's a host of people who want to connect but don't know how, spiraling in decaying orbit around each other until something awful happens.

VOID 1680 AM was originally much darker before I decided to pull back and let players pick their own tone, and Talk Radio is why.

Oxenfree is a narrative video game about a small group of teens stuck on an island haunted by hungry ghosts who can be tuned in and out of reality with handheld radios. There's more to it than that, but I'll leave you to discover what on your own - because I would recommend this game to just about anyone.

Insofar as VOID 1680 AM can have a "soundtrack," it is this one by scntfc, created using WWII-era radio equipment.

The Vast of Night is a quietly alarming lo-fi/sci-fi set in a small town in New Mexico in the late '50s. A radio DJ and a switchboard operator pick up strange signals, and then... things happen.

This specific radio station (stylized in the poster above) is what I picture for "my" VOID 1680 AM.

Then there's Stevie in The Fog, played by Adrienne Barbeau. She's the bridge between VOID 1680 AM and my earlier solo game, Lighthouse at the End of the World.

She is, yes: a late night DJ. And her radio station is, yes: in a lighthouse. She's living my dream, at least until the ghost pirates show up.

Spoilers, I guess?

But the most important influence? VOID 1680 AM cover artist Jordan Witt's fan art for the podcast King Falls AM years ago. This image took up residence in my head, so much so that I still use it as phone wallpaper despite never having listened to the show it's for.

When it came time to partner with a cover artist, who that cover artist would be was never in question. Entirely unknowingly, Jordan took all these loose ideas in my head and gave them something to cohere to. A beacon, if you will.

They spoke something into the Void, and I listened.

Fun fact: Jordan even jazzed up the original logo I made for VOID 1680 AM when that title only applied to the AM transmitter in my garage. Here's my original - you can plainly see the influence of Jordan's art on that O. It all really came full circle.

Those are the biggest ingredients in the stew that made VOID 1680 AM. It's fun to talk about stuff I like, but also I hope it might nudge someone - anyone - to get going on something they're after.

(That's you. I'm talking about you.)

A project finding its voice is a wonderful thing, but there's no real miracle to it, no outside influence that will tell you what to do. It's just things in your head magnetizing to each other until they got a shape that - with coaxing - can stand on its own.

See you on the dial.

[oskidontle]

A COLLECTION OF OVERLY DETAILED HEADCANONS ABOUT CRITTERS AS A SPECIES!

(Ahead is a wall of text! If you're prepared to read a bunch of non canon bullshit I made up to explain things that don't need explained you may proceed. If not, I would avoid clicking keep reading. Because I perhaps went a little overboard.)

General Lore:

Critters are a species of human originally created from U.S government funded human experimentation during WWII. Inspired by the extremes of the animal kingdom, the government hoped to make hyperdurable supersoldiers. Mostly unsuccessful, the main thing that sets critters apart from humans is appearance and wildly unstable genetics.

After years some of the subjects escaped and thanks to their various unusual methods of reproduction their population boomed fast enough that the world could hardly keep up. Generations later and critters are a widely abundant globally. Such abundance has allowed for them to integrate into society. However, not without difficulty. Food shortages in lower income states and social pushback has led many into bad living situations.

Physiology:

High genetic variation leads to a wide variety of critters, each with advantages and, more commonly, disadvantages.

For example; critters with proportionally larger eyes theoretically would have better eyesight. However, problems with eye dilation and distortion of eye shape leads them to more commonly have bad eyesight, or eyesight which easily wanes with age and sun damage. This is compounded with their general vulnerability to injury as they protrude due to their skulls barely keeping up.

Critters are prone to gene mutation. Two critter parents are likely to pass on faulty genes as the genetic makeup of reproductive cells often gets messed up. Upon inception these genes will mutate due to their faulty genetic code, sometimes leading to kids who looks drastically different than either parent. Even if this is not the case the faulty genes still create problems for the reproductive cells of the child as they grow, continuing to be changed and passed on.

Physical:

These mutations also lead to structural deformities. Strange growths and bone shapes aren't uncommon most commonly occurring on the skull, but can manifest as extra/less limbs unusual heights, strange spine deformations, fused/hyperflexible joints and bones presenting as cartilaginous or membranous.

Mutation of innards isn't all too uncommon either; ranging from lifelong organ issues, to benign growths of veins and nerves, to a unhealthy buildup/atrophy of fat and muscle.

Unfortunately all this genetic instability can lead to high rates of cancer, infertility, dementia, and mortality rates in infants

A few mutations are universal to most critters, most common is lack of visible nostrils and ears. Don't let appearances fool you however, they do still have functional noses and ears. Nostrils by default being closed shut by default can be opened and closed with adequate muscle control or significant air pressures. Ears meanwhile covered in a thin sensitive layer of skin allowing them to hear just as well, but with less directionality and mild trouble with environmental and internal pressure changes.

A critters epidermis has a wide variety of textures, colors, and hair lengths. Some of the texture of normal skin, some are velvety, some are fuzzy, some are scaly, some are smooth, some have hardened keratinous patches, and when exposed to cold enough climates for long periods of time, some can even develop a whole body coat of fur.

Phycological:

The high genetic variation also effects the brains of individuals. Critters are more likely to be diagnosed with mental disorders and learning disabilities of all sorts. They also tend to be highly emotional.

Interestingly as they develop their brains tend to latch on to specific emotions making them more likely to perform certain behaviors or feel a specific way. Individuals who ended up latching on to particularly negative emotions can lead rough lives as they find it difficult to feel any other way without active effort.

Despite this they aren't unable to feel other emotions if something to trigger another emotion occurs. In a sense the emotion they latch onto is more like a default then a solid state of mind.

Reproduction and development:

Critters can be seen with no reproductive organs, no visible reproductive organs, normal humanoid reproductive organs, both sexes of reproductive organs or reproductive organs not commonly found in mammals

Along with normal reproduction critters can reproduce with other means depending on the individual. This includes, but is not limited to: Parthenogenesis, external fertilization, vegetative propagation, budding and fragmentation. They can also have multiple ways to conceave and incubate the offspring. Live offspring, eggs and external fetuses, as seen in fragmentation and vegetative propagation are just some of the more common methods.

Development in critters is also highly varied depending on conception. While some are born through live birth. Some go through larval stages of sorts as they develop, some molt and spin cacoons as caterpillars would, some are closer to amphibians in that they smoothly develop as they grow, and some are raised in an almost plant-like fashion in which the fetus is placed in a sealed environment and fed nutritiants from external sources until they are developed enough to support themselves. On the whole a critter usually fully finishes their development by their early 20s

Many critters can reproduce multiple ways at the same time, leading to extremely high birthrates particularly with individuals who spawn externally. Despite high mortality rates the access to modern medical practices/technologies leads to higher survival rates than normal, offsetting the losses enough to where critters are still in the process of exponentially exploding in population.

SOCIOLOGY:

Critter populations are most dense on the North American continent where in the largest cities they can match human populations 1:1. Outside of North America, critters can also be found in relative abundance in other countries where they are better tolerated.

Due to a large chunk of their population having a rapid reproductive rate, It's speculated they will continue exponentially increasing their population until they will overtake human populations worldwide within a couple of centuries. That is assuming social pushback, laws, or lack of resources won't get involved.

Their sudden boom in population on a societal scale while surprisingly well accepted in their country of origin, worldwide they are less integrated into society and less accepted.

Those on the North American continent, particularly the U.S, are treated as any other person particularly by those in higher density areas who have lived with them longer. Classified as legal citizens they are entitled to the given benefits and privileges this brings. This is not without flaw however. Prejudice still exists, biases and income inequality are sadly common.

Interestingly due to a lack of visible sexual organs on some, it has become socially acceptable for said critters to wear minimal clothes. It is still preferable to wear at least some article of clothing, so most of the time you will see these individuals wearing an accessory or just a shirt/pants

[oldfashionedbooklove]

tell me about your favorite lm montgomery novel please <3

Okay this is SO hard because her books are amazing but I just have to admit Rilla of Ingleside is my favourite, which is saying a lot because I LOVE HER BOOKS, okay! I adore the Story Girl duology and I absolutely love the Anne series and Jane of Lantern Hill.

But Rilla. This book is a heartbreaker. And it’s so beautiful.

I don’t know if I can fully express how much is to be found in this book. I have been reading it yearly for many years, and always come away with new thoughts. As I grow older, and see more of the world, I relate and understand more, and another level of the book is discovered.

The setting—a small P.E.I. town carrying on through WWI. I’m pretty tough when it comes to war books, but I have to take breaks from this one because it is so raw and real. The agony is intense. I cannot even cry over it—my heart hurts too much for tears. This shows exactly what the Great War was for people. You sway back and forth, feeling the dread and terror. You know how it ends but you are broken anyhow. And when the end comes, you too can only rejoice softly. You feel as if you have paid part of the price yourself.

“‘We’re in a new world,’ Jem says, ‘and we’ve got to make it a better one than the old. That isn’t done yet, though some folks seem to think it ought to be. The job isn’t finished—it isn’t really begun. The old world is destroyed and we must build up the new one. It will be the task of years. I’ve seen enough of war to realize that we’ve got to make a world where wars can’t happen. We’ve given Prussianism its mortal wound but it isn’t dead yet and it isn’t confined to Germany either. It isn’t enough to drive out the old spirit—we’ve got to bring in the new.’”

The characters in this book—they are alive. Splendid Jem, brave and merry and true; Jerry, steady and dutiful; Walter, sensitive and courageous; Carl, cheerful and fearless; Shirley, honest and reliable; Nan and Di and Anne, all heart-wrung and smiling; Gertrude, tragic and grasping for hope; the Doctor, determined and self-sacrificing; Susan, simple and true—and Rilla, who starts out a silly, frivolous girl and ends a strong, mature woman. Then there are all the minor and side characters—the Merediths, Cousin Sophia, Jimsy, Ken, Irene, Whiskers-on-the-Moon & his family, Mary and the Elliotts, Norman + Ellen, and everyone else. They’re all so alive, so real, so funny and terrible and beautiful—I swear Glen St. Mary exists and all the inhabitants thereof.

The story follows the Great War, from the first days in August 1914 to the bitter Summer of 1919, where peace has come but normal will never return. As a child, this story was simply World War One—a faraway, long-ago grief and horror and agony. Now, in 2024, as a woman, I have experienced a slight taste of what the people of 1914 felt, and it has humanized the story of the War. This, more than any other book I have read, brings the War and the world of 1914-1918 to life, showing how they were people just like us. The heart is wrung by their suffering, and there is no escape, for the war must drag on for long bitter years. And the price! Walter has become the face of unknown, forgotten heroes, and Jem has become that of the scarred heroes who returned. Every November we grieve the young men who never came home, and for the ones who came home missing a part of themselves, physical or otherwise. I have wept thinking of the children of Rilla, Ken, Faith, Jem, and the others—children who fought in WWII and whose parents were forced to relive the horrible conflict of mankind.

“It has been such a dreadful week,” she wrote, “and even though it is over and we know that it was all a mistake that does not seem to do away with the bruises left by it. And yet it has in some ways been a very wonderful week and I have had some glimpses of things I never realized before—of how fine and brave people can be even in the midst of horrible suffering.”

And yet the book overflows with humour—real laugh-out-loud scenes and witty, clever banter on princes and politics. It is another aspect of the humanity—the part that cannot fully let go of laughing despite the drain. Another angle is the shrewd commentary on principalities and powers, nations and cultures, is thought-provoking, as is the remarks that show us how the war truly changed the world.

“There was a time,” she said sorrowfully, “when I did not care what happened outside of P.E. Island, and now a king cannot have a toothache in Russia or China but it worries me. It may be broadening to the mind, as the doctor said, but it is very painful to the feelings.”

But the biggest things to me is the SPIRIT of this book. The spirit of perseverance, endurance, courage, and love. Of course, man is man, and there is suspicion, contempt, and a feeling of superiority—but this is not exclusive only to Anglo-Saxons. As someone who isn’t Anglo-Saxon myself, and actually of mixed cultures, I can attest every nation is guilty of such. World War One was a battle of good vs. evil—not of man vs. man, but Idea against Idea—the idea of civilization against militarism. Perhaps not on the part of the leaders—but when one studies the writings, letters, poems, and speeches of the everyday folks caught up in the war, one sees this distinction plainly. It was not a war of European against European, Anglo-Saxon against German—it was a war between an old, terrible Idea of Prussianism (Frederick the Great, anyone?) and the Idea of Respect and Peace.

“And you will tell your children of the Idea we fought and died for—teach them it must be lived for as well as died for, else the price paid for it will have been given for nought.”

May we never forget.

A REMARK: I discovered that Rilla of Ingleside was abridged by about 4,300 words (~14 pages), so I searched for an unabridged copy. I definitely encourage you to take the extra trouble to find an *unabridged* copy. It is SO worth it! I’ve read both versions and the unabridged is so much fuller, with a great deal more humour and fun.

I just have to pick out my favourite quotes, too…

“We all come back to God in these days of soul-sifting,” said Gertrude to John Meredith. “There have been many days in the past when I didn't believe in God—not as God—only as the impersonal Great First Cause of the scientists. I believe in Him now—I have to—there's nothing else to fall back on but God—humbly, starkly, unconditionally.”

“‘Our help in ages past’—‘the same yesterday, to-day and for ever,’ said the minister gently. ‘When we forget God—He remembers us.’”

Below her [window] was a big apple-tree, a great swelling cone of rosy blossom.... Beyond Rainbow Valley there was a cloudy shore of morning with little ripples of sunrise breaking over it. The far, cold beauty of a lingering star shone above it. Why, in this world of springtime loveliness, must hearts break?

And I can’t leave without some humour:

“‘The Germans have recaptured Premysl,’ said Susan despairingly… ‘and now I suppose we will have to begin calling it by that uncivilized name again. Cousin Sophia was in when the mail came and when she heard the news she hove a sigh up from the depths of her stomach, Mrs. Dr. dear, and said, ‘Ah yes, and they will get Petrograd next I have no doubt.’ I said to her, ‘My knowledge of geography is not so profound as I wish it was but I have an idea that it is quite a walk from Premysl to Petrograd.’ Cousin Sophia sighed again and said, ‘The Grand Duke Nicholas is not the man I took him to be.’ ‘Do not let him know that,’ said I. ‘It might hurt his feelings and he has likely enough to worry him as it is.’ But you cannot cheer Cousin Sophia up, no matter how sarcastic you are, Mrs. Dr. dear. She sighed for the third time and groaned out, ‘But the Russians are retreating fast,’ and I said, ‘Well, what of it? They have plenty of room for retreating, have they not?’ But all the same, Mrs. Dr. dear, though I would never admit it to Cousin Sophia, I do not like the situation on the eastern front. [But] Grand Duke Nicholas, though he may have been a disappointment to us in some respects, knows how to run away decently and in order, and that is a very useful knowledge when Germans are chasing you. Norman Douglas declares he is just luring them on and killing ten of them to one he loses. But I am of the opinion he cannot help himself and is just doing the best he can under the circumstances, the same as the rest of us.’”

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

The game continues (Truth or dare part 2) - Joe Toye x F!Reader

Summary: Part two of "Truth or dare". Toye and Reader go to his room to finish what they started earlier that night.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), slight male dom, oral teasing (male receiving), female pronouns/body parts.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: Full discloser, this story took on a mind of its own and ended up filthier than I planned. But I regret nothing. As always, please like, comment, reblog :) :) :) They keep me going.

As promised, @imaginethatneathuhpartdos here's part two! I hope you like it!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to his word, Joe was waiting for me when I walked out of the medic station thoroughly exhausted. Without speaking, he tossed the cigarette he was holding away, grabbed my hand and started leading us towards the housing areas. When we reached the building housing the NCO's, Joe did a quick look around then ushered me inside quickly before a patrol officer saw me. Up a flight of stairs and past two doors later we were inside Joe's room.

The second the door clicks shut, Joe locks it and spins us around so I am effectively pinned between it and him. He teasingly brushes his lips against mine before trailing kisses across my cheek to my ear.

"I've been distracted all fucking night, thanks to you. A Kraut tank could have drove right past me and I wouldn't have noticed or cared." His breathe is hot against my ear, followed by a soft kiss. I turn my head and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Did you touch yourself?" I, too, was distracted all night thinking about him but I wasn't about to admit it.

Joe pulls back enough to meet me eyes, a smirk on his face, "A good soldier follows orders, ma'am." He presses his hips against mine and I can feel how hard he still is. I grab his jacket and keep him anchored against me.

"Well done, soldier. I guess I should reward you." I move us around so he's now leaning against the door. "Let's continue our game, but it's going to be all truths. So, how do you want your reward: hand or mouth?" When he doesn't immediately respond, I run my hand down his chest, stomach and stop right on top of his bulge giving it a hard squeeze. "Hands or mouth, Sergeant?"

Joe's eyes are nearly black with arousal as he breathes out, "Mouth."

In a flash, I'm on my knees unbuckling his belt and pulling his layers down until his penis is free. The tip is flushed red with precum leaking out. I glance up, meeting his gaze as I lean forward and lick his tip clean.

"Fucking tease." Joe grits out behind clenched teeth, his breathing hard and uneven already. I shoot him a smirk and while I would have loved to have drawn this out, he wasn't the only one horny beyond belief. Opening my mouth wide, I lean forward again and take as much of him as I can without gagging. "Goddamn!" Joe groans above me and I feel his hand tangle in my hair, holding tight.

He lets me set the pace, starting in slow bobs with my tongue swirling around his tip and the vein running up his underside. I can tell he's getting antsy when his hips buck lightly up and his grip in my hair gets tighter. At a small tug on my strands, I moan around his penis and he lets out a hiss. Picking up my pace, I use one hand to stroke what isn't in my mouth, squeezing his base and slip the other between my thighs to alleviate some of my own throbbing.

Joe's thrusts start to become harder and he's cursing with every breathe he lets out. Soon he's tugging my head back and off of him, ignoring my attempts to keep going.

"I promise I'll cum in your mouth next time baby. Right now, I need to cum in your pussy." He doesn't wait for a response, just pulls me flush against him and plunges his tongue inside my mouth. These kisses are possessive and leave no room doubt that Joe Toye is in control now.

I'm positive a button or two gets ripped from our clothes in our haste to be naked, but neither of us give a damn at this point. Joe pushes me down onto the bed, hands gripping my thighs as he kneels between them, drinking me in. Slowly he leans over me, hovering just a hairs breathe away from touching me and flips the game on me.

"Back or knees?" My brain is practically mush at this point and I can't fully comprehend what he's asking. He gives a slap to my thigh, bringing my thoughts out of a haze for a moment while he repeats his question. "You staying like this or or getting on your knee's for me again?"

"Knee's." Joe's kissing me hard as the word flies from my mouth, dominating me yet again. He bites my lip hard as he pulls away and slaps my thigh again, signaling me to flip around. No sooner am I on my hands and knee's before him, then I feel his fingers stroking me, spreading my wetness around.

"Next game, I'm tying you to this bed and counting how many times I can make you cum with my tongue and fingers." His voice is dark and full of a promise I know he will keep. My only response is to moan and push my hips back towards him. One of his hands grabs hold of my hip so hard I know it'll bruise, and love that, and the other trails up my spine and grabs a fistful of hair again.

Without warning, he lines himself up and bottoms out inside me. We curse at the same time, reveling in the feeling of finally being connected after so much build up, and between one breathe and the next he starts fucking me.

The pace is brutal and primal and perfect. First he uses his hand in my hair to shove my upper half more onto the bed, angling my hips to hit me deeper and grinding every time he bottoms out. All thoughts have left my mind and the only thing I can focus on is the feeling of him and trying to breathe. Behind me, Joe is bouncing between compliments and cursing.

"Fuck. You're so goddamn tight. Jesus Christ, baby. You were made for me."

The next time he bottom's out, he pulls me up so my back is flush with his front and then goes back to his previous pace. The hand that was on my hip, moves around and up my stomach, so he can massage my breasts and tweak my nipples. Joe uses his leverage in my hair to turn my head at the right angle to give me a bruising kiss.

"Touch your clit, baby. I need you to cum." He bites my lip before giving me another hard kiss. My hand flies down to my bud and starts rubbing furiously to help me fall over the edge. Joe's thrusts start to become sloppy and I know he's just as close as I am. "I'm close, doll. Hurry up. Cum!" He drops his head and bites my shoulder hard enough I wouldn't be surprised if it drew blood.

The combination of pain and pleasure tips me over and if he wasn't hold me up with his arm I would have collapsed into the bed. My orgasm triggers his and he cums with a loud shout. Joe manages a few more ruts before shifting us so we fall onto the bed on our sides, his arms tangled around me keeping us pressed together.

Is it minutes or hours that go by, neither of us know or care. We eventually part, Joe uses his undershirt to clean up between my legs, passing me a clean t-shirt to sleep in. After he's finished cleaning up the best he can, he tosses on a pair of underwear and pulls a blanket over the both of us, dragging me to lay across his chest. As the afterglow sets in and mixes with our previous exhausting, we manage quiet 'goodnights' and fall into a deep sleep.

Bonus scene: The next day

"You're a dumb ass, you know that?" I say, working on finishing up a few stitches on Guarnere's forehead. He had tried to jump between some ruble on patrol and needless to say he didn't make it.

"But I'm still handsome right?" He shoots me an overly confident smirk. I just roll my eyes and laugh.

"Not my type, but I'll confirm with the other nurses that like to stare at you."

"Speaking of you type, there was some pretty loud noises going on in the house last night. And Toye has a big ass mark on his neck. Know anything about it?" He starts to laugh as I feel my cheeks burn, and I not so accidently pull on the last stitch harder than needed to make him wince.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Before he can make a smart ass remark back, Tab comes walking into the medic station flowers in hand. Guarnere and I share a slightly confused look, as the former man stops in front of us.

"Gee, thanks Tab. But daisy's ain't really my favorite." Guarnere jokes.

Tab just ignores him and looks at me, "Do you know where Emily is? I heard she was working a shift today?"

"Yeah, she's in the supply closet. End of the hall." I wave vaguely and watch him nearly jog out of sight.

"What the hell was that?" I ask out loud, not really expecting an answer.

"Must have been what Toye wanted to talk to him about at breakfast. Something about owing Emily a 'thank you'." Guarnere gave me a curious look as I started smiling. Instead of elaborating, I snip off the end of his stitch and nod at my handing work, taking a step back.

"There, good as new. Try to not screw up my hard work." Guarnere hops off the bed.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Now if you don't mind, could you point out the nurses that stare at me?"

[jesslovesboats]

i love your Sad Boat Book guides and was wondering if you have any recommendations for Non-Boat Related Sad Journey books?? just curious as i read one about the donner party this year and i don't know much about other doomed or difficult journeys! (though i know im at The Boat Blog so fair if you don't have any 😂)

HELLO and thank you for the ask! I absolutely do have Sad Journey recommendations for you, in a variety of flavors!

The Donner Party is a spiritual companion to Sad Boat media because 1) cannibalism and 2) the same cold snap that trapped the Donner Party was also responsible for Terror and Erebus getting frozen in, so they're basically twin tragedies. My favorite Donner Party books are The Indifferent Stars Above by Daniel James Brown, which focuses mostly on Sarah Graves, and The Hunger by Alma Katsu, a fiction book with a supernatural twist, but one that does a great job of capturing the true horror of what they endured!

Mountaineering is full of tragedy, and it has a lot of the same appeal factors as polar and nautical stories. The one everyone is most familiar with is Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer, and with good reason! Krakauer is one of the most compelling authors of narrative nonfiction in the game, and you can safely pick up almost any of his books and encounter Men In Sad Situations. I am also partial to the story of the 1924 British Mount Everest expedition- the one where George Mallory and Sandy Irvine died. Into The Silence by Wade Davis and Last Climb by David Breashers and Audrey Salkeld both tell this incredible story.

In a similar vein, the story of the Uruguayan rugby players who crash landed in the Andes Mountains sounds like something you might enjoy! Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors by Piers Paul Read is fascinating. Some of the survivors also wrote memoirs which I personally find more compelling, but I don't want to give away the names of the survivors- once you know, you can look them up, or message me and I'll send them to you. Once you know the story, check out Society of the Snow on Netflix- it's great!

Interested in Sad Journeys in warmer places? DEFINITELY check out The Lost City of Z by David Grann, another can't go wrong author of narrative nonfiction! This one follows the explorer Percy Fawcett as he travels into the jungles of the Amazon searching for the lost city of El Dorado. It... does not go well. There's also a cameo appearance from James Murray of Karluk fame (if you haven't read The Ice Master or Empire of Ice and Stone, please do, I am begging you!)

I also want to put in a plug for military nonfiction, which often scratches a similar itch for me. I'm currently reading Skies of Thunder by Caroline Alexander, about a completely insane WWII mission to fly needed supplies over the Himalayas. Also check out With The Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa by Eugene Sledge. Talk about a devastating journey.

A few more recommendations that aren't necessarily Sad Journeys, but they are definitely Sad and have similar vibes:

Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham

Triangle: The Fire That Changed America by David von Drehle

The Johnstown Flood by David McCullough

There are many many more fantastic books that I couldn't include, but I hope this is enough to get you started! Thanks for a fun ask, and happy reading! <3

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 6 — Time-Turner.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Remus Lupin, Seren Lupin (OC), Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black (in the haunting-the-narrative kind of way).

Additional Tags: actor Sirius Black; celebrity Sirius Black; trans Remus Lupin; past trans male pregnancy; Mary and Peter are great friends I just need to say it; modern au; actress Seren Lupin but she’s just starting; Seren as a wolfstar baby except Sirius doesn’t know she’s his (or Remus’s for that matter).

Summary: Seren Lupin gets the lead role for upcoming coming-of-age movie Time-Turner.

Words count: 975.

A/N: Heya! I dropped this au in @impishtubist askbox some time ago and since it refused to leave my brain I'm now forced to write about it idk. I’ll write Sirius and Remus’ first meeting (in twelve years) for a later microfic I think lmao. Hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

Remus is worrying himself sick, pacing alone in the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge to make sure the cake is still here, getting the glasses out, putting them back in, starting making tea, forgetting it halfway through the process. He should have joined them after work, but he was too stressed and too scared of somehow destroying Seren’s chances.

It’s her last audition today. Some sort of chemistry test? To see if she gets along with the other actors? It all made sense when she was excitedly telling him about it yesterday again, but it’s like his brain is mush now.

The door opens, cutting him down from his own spiral, and Remus perks up, more stressed out by the whole affair than his daughter ever was.

“Dad! Dad! I got it!”

Seren appears in the kitchen, grinning like the little gremlin she is, teeth out and her brown curls slipping free from the careful braid Mary pushed them into this morning. Her eyes, a circle of dark brown cascading into a warm grey, are shining with delight and joy, and Remus finds himself breathless with love — just like almost twelve years ago, when they put this small, red, squealing baby on his chest with a congratulation.

His daughter jumps into his arms and he laughs in tandem with her. “That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” He lets her free, just enough to put his hands on her cheeks and look at her in the eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She beams with the force of a thousand suns.

“Thanks! It was so cool, and, oh, you’ll never guess who’s gonna play my dad in the film! And Mister Dumbledore said that we could get a TV show too!”

Albus Dumbledore, one of the most acclaimed film directors still alive, with so many successes behind him — yet so eccentric you could never guess what he will go for next. After a blockbuster about a young crowds of vigilantes saving their world from tyranny, a rather depressing story about a young orphan in the middle of WWII becoming the oppressor, and a passionate but tragic gay romance at the end of the 19th century, a coming-of-age children story is right on par for the course. Time-Turner, as it’s called, will follow a young girl — played by Seren, his own daughter! — discovering her time travel power, while dealing with her mother’s recent demise.

Which makes the father of the heroine the other lead of the film, and someone Seren will have to spend a lot of time with. Remus hopes he’s a good person. Someone nice, who wouldn’t be put-out by her unlimited energy and her never-ending supply of questions.

“So?” he asks as Seren stops talking to take a breath. “Who will play your dad?”

She grins, more excited even than before. She has always looked more like him, in general, with more elegance in her traits and grace in her body than he ever possessed. But like that — oh, like that, she looks just like…

“Sirius Black!” she yells, bouncing on her feet, and she can’t help but do a little, victorious dance.

“That’s great,” he says, croaks out more than anything, and smiles as wide as he can, drowning the drumming of his heart and fear as much as he can. “Why don’t you call your grandparents to tell them the news?” He checks the time. “And your uncle Peter? He should be out of work by now.”

Seren nods and babbles some more and disappears toward her room. Mary, who was standing silently near the door the whole time, finally comes around.

Remus starts busying himself with tea. It’s easier than thinking through his rising panic.

“So,” says Mary, because of course she cannot not say anything. For a brief second, Remus wishes Peter had been the one disponible today — he would have judged silently but not said anything, him. “You never told us Sirius Black is Seren’s father.”

He groans. His face hits the table and he considers staying here forever.

“No one knows,” he finally mumbles. “How did you even guess?”

“He was here today.” She ponders her words an instant. “They’re a lot alike.”

“But he doesn’t—” He stops himself, but Mary has known him since they were kids. She can read him too easily.

“I don't think he does.”

Remus sighs. It’s not ideal; it was already not great when Sirius Black was Seren’s idol, but it will be worse now that they’re in contact. Now that he will be in her life.

“Do I ask how it happened, since you didn’t tell me at the time, or are we doing that later when you can get drunk?”

“Second option,” Remus immediately answers. He can still remember, after all those years, how Sirius kissed him like he was important, the warmth of his hands on his body, the softness of his hair— But they had basically been strangers to each other, several hook-ups to escape boring parties resulting in Remus's panic at his sudden pregnancy and a total loss of contact. And now— Now he has so much to lose.

“I’ll call Peter,” Mary nods sagely. Then, after a beat of silence, “it will come out at some point, you know.”

“I doubt it,” he mutters, prays. “It’s not like he’ll remember me, anyway.”

How could an acclaimed actor, known all around the world, remember a random waiter he slept with twelve years ago? Remus didn’t impact his life the way Sirius impacted his. He’ll never regret it, of course — Seren is the most precious thing in his life, and all the moments preceding her existence were pretty great too — but it's not like Sirius would want to have anything to do with them, anyway.

Remus can at least try to speak it into existence.