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usafphantom2 · 1 year ago

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IMAGES: South Korea retres F-4 Phantom jets

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 06/08/2024 - 20:00in History, Military

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The Air Force of the Republic of Korea (RoKAF) has officially retired its F-4E Phantom II fighter fleet, marking the end of an era in the history of the country's military aviation. For about a month, the retirement of the iconic combat jets generated a series of beautiful images in flight over South Korea.

The retirement ceremony, held at the 10ª Fighter Wing in Suwon, Gyeonggi province, was attended by the Minister of National Defense, Shin Won-sik, and featured the final flight of two F-4E jets. Ten Phantom II were operational to date, marking the end of the 55 years of F-4D/E operations at RoKAF.

The ceremony, which took place on Friday (07/06), included commemorative flights of a series of modern fighters, such as the F-16, KF-16, FA-50, RF-16, F-15K and F-35A, symbolizing the transition from air defense duties to newer aircraft. These demonstrations highlighted South Korea's ongoing commitment to maintaining a robust and modern air force.

In his remarks, Minister Shin reflected on the history of the Phantom and its impact on the defense capabilities of South Korea. "The noble spirit of the Phantom, dedicated to safeguarding South Korea's airspace, will remain with us forever," said Shin, emphasizing the role of the aircraft in achieving air superiority over North Korea.

#PhantomFriday#PhantomPhriday#PhantomForever#PhantomPhorever pic.twitter.com/VcQFbYHw48

The ceremony also paid tribute to the pilots and patriots who sacrificed their lives in the service of the country. This dark moment highlighted the deep respect and gratitude felt by those who operated and maintained the F-4 Phantoms over the years.

The last unit to operate the type, the 153º Fighter Squadron of the 10ª Fighter Wing of RoKAF, conducted a farewell flight last month with four specially painted aircraft, celebrating its service over the years, including a camouflage painting scheme from the Vietnam War era.

The F-4 Phantom jets first arrived in South Korea in 1969, significantly improving the country's defense posture amid threats from Soviet-made North Korean aircraft. In the last 55 years, approximately 220 Phantoms (in three different versions during the heyday: the F-4D, RF-4C and F-4E) have served in various functions, from reconnaissance missions to interception missions.

Most of the South Korean aircraft were former United States Air Force (USAF), with the exception of two plots of F-4E purchased under the Peace Pheasant I and II foreign military sales (FMS) programs. The F-4 served as South Korea's main fighter until the full deployment of the KF-16 in 1994.

The aircraft were acquired by the U.S. one year after a failed assassination attempt by North Korean commands against then-President Park Chung-hee in 1968, raising the need to strengthen military capabilities to better defend against threats from the North.

The Phantom II was then a state-of-the-art aircraft that set the pace for the purchase of more advanced fighters such as the F-16 amid its transformation into an economic powerhouse.

The four aircraft that made a farewell flight in May paid tribute to several air bases that were part of their legacy of service and were even escorted by two Korea Aerospace Industries (KAI) KF-21 Boramae multifunction combat aircraft in part of their final journey.

The decommissioning of the F-4 Phantom fleet occurs at a time when South Korea is preparing to deploy the KF-21 Boramae, an internally developed supersonic fighter, by 2026. The KF-21 is expected to replace the old F-4 Phantom and F-5 Tiger jets, ensuring that the Republic of Korea Air Force remains equipped with state-of-the-art technology to face future challenges.

The South Korean government announced in February that it will build more KF-21 aircraft in 2024 with an allocated budget of about 178 million dollars, although series production should not begin until mid-2026.

Tags: Military AviationF-4 PhantomHISTORYROKAF - Republic of Korea Air Force/South Korean Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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eliteroofservicesnarrewarren · 1 year ago

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Preston Painting and decoration-Glenroy Roof Painting

https://fivestarroofpainting.com.au/contact-us/ Enhance your Dandenong North residence with our expert roof painting services. Seize the chance to elevate your Noble Park space and fortify your Dandenong North home. Reach out to us today for a consultation!

#Roof Painting in Lalor #Preston Painting and decoration #Malvern East Roof Painting #Roof Painting in Murrumbeena #Mill Park Roof Painting #Roof painting in Dandenong Nort #Noble Park Painting #Roof Cleaning in Gladstone Park #Glenroy Roof Painting #Roof Painting in Reservoir

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

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Ooooh ask game! I'm gonna go for 48 Water 😍😍

Also I absolutely adore all of your stuff, it's so good!

aaaaa thank you so much!! 💜

48. WATER - Do you prefer urban fantasy or high fantasy?

urban fantasy!!! i absolutely live for urban fantasy settings just the idea of magic being interwoven into everyday modern life.

like the idea of things like:

public service announcements for what to do if you're approached by the fae

vampire-specific medical courses because they're better at detecting blood diseases

ophanim-driven ambulances

selkie and nymph environmental actiivists

school exchange programs with other planes

fae court having a c-span like channel

were-creature rights

arcane engineering

barnes and noble selling common spellbooks

spray-painted sigils around neighborhoods and parks

i could literally go on and on and on about urban fantasy settings and the endless possibilities for things you could do.

#ramadiiiisme #moth answers #answered

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mayaniautomotive · 1 month ago

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Brake Service in Dandenong - Affordable, Trusted Brake Repairs in Dandenong

Your brakes are one of the most important parts of your car. If they’re making strange noises, feel soft, or it’s been a while since your last check, it’s time to book a service. At Mayani Automotive & Car Detailing, we provide quality brake inspections, repairs, and replacements for all types of vehicles.

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No matter what kind of car you drive – small car, SUV, or van – we’ll make sure your brakes are in top shape.

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Don’t wait until it’s too late. If you notice any of these signs, it’s time to get your brakes checked:

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Brake warning light is on

Fixing brake issues early can save you money and keep you safe.

Why Choose Mayani Automotive?

Here’s why people in Dandenong trust us with their brake service:

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How Often Should You Get Your Brakes Checked?

We recommend having your brakes checked every 10,000 to 15,000 km. Brake pads usually need to be replaced between 30,000 and 70,000 km, depending on how you drive.

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Buying a used car? We’ll check it for hidden problems so you know what you’re getting.

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Need new tyres? We replace, balance, and align tyres for better safety and performance.

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We test and replace car batteries so you’re never left stuck with a dead one.

And much more – whatever your car needs, we’re here to help.

Book Your Brake Service Today

Don’t wait for your brakes to fail. A simple check now can save you money and help keep you safe. Contact Mayani Automotive & Car Detailing today to book your brake service in Dandenong. You’ll get honest service, fair prices, and expert care - every time.

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nobleauto · 3 months ago

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The Best Auto Garages for Car Scratch Repair in Abu Dhabi

Car scratches are not only unsightly but can also lead to rust and further damage if left untreated. Whether caused by accidents, harsh weather conditions, or parking lot mishaps, it’s important to have scratches professionally repaired. Here’s how to get the best car scratch repair services in Abu Dhabi and restore your vehicle’s appearance.

1. Understanding Different Types of Scratches

Car scratches can vary in severity. Minor scratches affect the paint’s surface, while deeper scratches may penetrate the metal. Professional auto garages like Noble Auto Workshop specialize in both minor and deep scratch repairs, using advanced techniques to restore your car’s paintwork.

2. Paintless Scratch Repair: A Cost-Effective Solution

For surface-level scratches that haven’t damaged the underlying paint, paintless scratch repair is an effective and affordable solution. This method can restore your car’s appearance without the need for expensive repainting. Al Zaabi Auto Care provides expert paintless repair services to bring back the shine to your car’s exterior.

3. Restoring Paint and Finish with Professional Repair

For deeper scratches, the damaged area often requires filling, sanding, and repainting. Diamond Bright Auto Garage offers full-service scratch repairs, restoring your vehicle to its original finish. Their skilled technicians ensure a seamless match with your car’s paint color.

4. Why Timely Scratch Repairs Matter

Prompt repair of car scratches can prevent rust from developing, which could lead to more costly repairs in the future. If you’re looking for quick and effective solutions for scratches, Motopro offers comprehensive scratch repair services that restore your vehicle’s appearance.

Conclusion

Car scratches can be easily fixed by skilled technicians at auto garages like Noble Auto Workshop, Al Zaabi Auto Care, and Diamond Bright Auto Garage. Whether it’s a small blemish or a deeper scratch, these experts have the tools and knowledge to make your car look brand new again.

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charcherry-weekly · 5 months ago

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Charcherry Weekly - issue 233

Heya everyone, Mage of Light Nick Card here. I'm trying a different scheduling method this week. Now for the news.

Desertian Round Table (and other meetings)

Early this week, there was an important meeting being held at the meetingclog outside of Kekco HQ on Starter Planet. Present at this meeting were the following recognized Desertian officials: Desertian President Katyleen Kitten, Azure Ocean Outpost President Lucario, Secretary Enker (unvoted position), councilman Charles, COIN president Barack "Chaos Obama" Obama, Neon city mayor Karma, Unity village mayor Brae Emit, DGU steward Electrolis, and DTA Skye M.

This group discussed the recent abduction incident at Desertia station, the 51% share buy-out opportunity of the spaceport (which was later finalized that night while everyone was busy focusing on an impeachment attempt against President Kitten that did not go through, much in part due to Mayor Emit's ruthless defense against Electrolis's motion), a successful vote to legally retrieve, offer official citizenship and reparations to all sold/leased Desertian androids, the appointment of QWERTY to the Science and engineering division, the reorganization of the Park division to be integrated into the national park service, with Brae successfully voted on within the group as the NPS leader.

A public comments period will eventually be held for suggestion of which natural and historic landmarks will be included under the NPS purview.

In related news, Korous is soon to hold its own Grand Assembly, with the goal of deciding if all parts of it really want to be part of the Federation, as recent incidents have exposed it's dark underbelly. The exact date for this meeting has yet to be decided.

In addition, Her Enigmatic Resiliency of Afterworld and President Thoren Emit have both been invited to a Federation conference, in an apparent appeal to convince a number of recognized nonmembers to join, despite recent controversies. The date for this meeting has not been reported either.

EPCOT Madness

Rather recently, the contract keeping Planet EPCOT tied to the Walt Disney worlds has gone missing, unable to be replicated due to "imagineering magic". As a result, it has seceded from the system. There is currently a functional lockdown, with only emergency travel to and from the planet currently allowed. Reportedly it has been a veritable nightmare there, repeating saccharine songs, rainbow paint dripping from the walls, and other assorted anomalous activities. An anonymous inside source is still investigating further details.

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Do you want an ad here? Contact lavenderSiren to get an ad for whatever. If you don’t write it yourself, you risk the newsletter writer writing it instead, do be warned.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

DTA train ticket stand

Katie’s potion stand (Not available to plitlanders due to regulations, available to all others however)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (also has a Unity Village location!)

Brae's produce stall

fuzzy slippers stand

that should hopefully do it for this week.honestly, it's been hard to work or even focus on Hyacinthheld lately. maybe it's all the new activity with the SPace II team around? Maybe I really am overworking myself in absence of anyone else that knows what I want to get done? maybe it's just a really bad week for work? I'm not sure. I woke up 24 hours after this newsletter should have been worked on.

I can only hope I find my focus again.

https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/472/charcherry-weekly-issue-233

#charcherry weekly #sbarg2.5dungeoncrashers #sbargv2

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caulfieldpaintings · 10 months ago

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Why House Painters in Chelsea Are Essential for Your Home Renovation?

Painting house is in reality significantly more advantageous than simply staining the walls with a different colour. Expression through colours is at the heart of house painters in Chelsea, and home painters are the artists who realise their clients' ideas. Paint not only improves appearance but also offers a layer of defence against weather-related harm to the house's internal structure. Professionals are adept at managing both exterior and interior painting renovations, turning your house into a stunning work of art both inside and out.

The top painters in Noble Park also provide commercial painting services. Professional painters are skilled in commercial painting because they can paint offices just as effectively. Experts with access to state-of-the-art equipment may also repair damaged and peeling paintwork.

Interior painting is equally as vital as exterior home painting since one must maintain the interior of the property in a nice manner. Among the various structures that interior painters may paint are town homes, apartments, and single-family homes. Interior painting projects entail painting a variety of areas, including living rooms, dining rooms, corridors, bedrooms, nurseries, and more.

Expert and extensively educated painters possess a strong comprehension of hues, enabling them to assist clients in selecting the ideal colour palette for their space. Painters know how important it is to use colour and pattern just so to leave a lasting impression on onlookers.

When painting a building, people must choose licensed and experienced painters for peace of mind and to guarantee high-quality work. For the greatest results, have the building painted by a certified building painter.

Source

#painters Noble Park #house painters Chelsea

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irctcmaharajas · 1 year ago

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A Cultural Delight with the World’s Best Luxury Train

Looking for a truly magnificent and unforgettable travel experience? Embark on an extraordinary journey as you step aboard one of the world’s best luxury trains, the Maharajas' Express. Explore India's treasures with four unique packages featuring visits varying from the Taj Mahal to Amber Fort, Lake Pichola or Ranthambhore Safari, or a walking tour of the Old Clock Tower Market, each offering special experiences. Undoubtedly one of the world's most luxurious and exclusive trains, offering you to delve into the enchanting beauty of the heartlands of India.

Luxurious Retreat: Maharajas’ Express

Relishing the luxury aboard The Maharajas’ Express feels like stepping into a world of pure elegance and comfort. The four types of Express Cabins are beautifully decorated and filled with modern conveniences, tailored according to the travellers' choices. The Deluxe Cabin consists of 12 Twin and 8 Double Bed Cabins; the Junior Suite with 12 Twin and 6 Double Bed Cabins; the Suite with 4 Double Bed Cabins; and the Presidential Suite, which is a full coach with two bedrooms and a living room, in addition to the other luxuries provided. Whether you're a solo traveller, on a family holiday, or seeking a honeymoon luxury train experience, Maharajas’ Express caters to every need. Its services and facilities are designed to accommodate every traveller, ensuring a memorable and comfortable journey.

Curated Experiences for an Immersive Indian Culture Tourism

The Maharajas' Express offers a curated selection of itineraries whether you seek an adventure through the Golden Triangle or a serene trip through the sacred landscapes. It glides through the hypnotic beauty of the Taj Mahal in Agra to the iconic Amber Fort in Jaipur, promising to mesmerize travellers with the rich Indian culture and the architectural gems en route.

Offering this heavenly experience in four itineraries, including,

• The Indian Splendour (6 nights/7 days) starts from Delhi's bustling streets to the shores of Mumbai, with stops at landmarks like the Taj Mahal, Ranthambore National Park, Amber Fort, and Lake Pichola.

• The Heritage of India (6 nights/7 days), the journey from Mumbai to Delhi, visiting the noble cities of Udaipur, Jodhpur, Bikaner, Jaipur, Ranthambore, Fatehpur Sikri, and Agra

• The Indian Panorama (6 nights/7 days), in motion from Delhi to Varanasi via Jaipur, Ranthambore, Fatehpur Sikri, Agra, Orchha, and Khajuraho, exploring majestic forts, UNESCO heritage sites, and breathtaking landscapes

• Treasures of India (3 nights/4 days), a journey from Delhi to Agra and Ranthambore, exploring the Taj Mahal, Agra Fort, and Ranthambore National Park before returning to Jaipur, then concluding the adventure back in Delhi.

Traveling on the Maharajas' Express is like diving into India's rich culture. You can encounter the Mughal touch in the architecture and culture, and feel the grandeur of the Evening Aarti during the boat ride on the Ganges. Additionally, enjoy the evenings beholding Indian traditions, like barbecue with the folk dances and sundowners at the Sand Dunes, or experiencing the flavors of Indian cuisine during an "Indian Evening" onboard. These moments deepen the cultural connection, bringing you close to the ‘Real India’.

Exquisite Dining and Entertainment

Enjoy delicious meals onboard the Maharajas’ Express, where various Indian and international dishes are available to satisfy your taste buds. The two thematic fine dining restaurants allow you to enjoy the vibrant flavours in a relaxing yet exciting environment. One is "Mayur Mahal," named after India's national bird, the peacock, and the other is "Rang Mahal," meaning 'The Palace of Colors’, adorned with beautifully painted ceilings. There are two special places for guests who enjoy drinks and friendly conversations. One is the Safari Bar, perfect for a cozy chat. The other is the Rajah Club Lounge, where you can sit back and relax in comfort.

A Journey of Memories

As the travellers bid adieu to Maharajas’ Express, they carry with them photographs, but the memory of an unforgettable experience, witnessing the richness of the Indian culture. Maharajas’ Express makes every moment extraordinary with its unmatched charm and top-notch service, creating memories that last a lifetime.

Source: https://sites.google.com/view/worlds-best-luxury-train-/home?authuser=1

#Worlds best luxury train #honeymoon luxury train in India #Indian Culture Tourism

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akrpainting123 · 2 years ago

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#House Painting Service #Painting Service in Noble Park

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zedecksiew · 4 years ago

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Kriegsmesser

When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".

I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:

Warlock (quality);

Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);

Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.

Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.

Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.

Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":

"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."

(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)

Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:

Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.

It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.

Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.

For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.

Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".

Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.

Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)

But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."

It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.

Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --

" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.

" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.

" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "

-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."

The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.

Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.

Nice one.

That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.

Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:

" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "

Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:

" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "

Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?

I love this.

Rant incoming:

With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.

Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.

As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --

Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.

When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.

Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.

Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.

We went from:

"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"

To:

"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."

Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.

With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --

But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.

This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.

Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:

A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);

Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);

"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);

Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).

I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.

In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.

I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --

It feels so fucking right.

Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.

I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!

And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.

lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.

You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:

You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.

You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.

You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.

Get Kriegsmesser HERE.

+++

( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )

#reviews #kriegsmesser #gregor vuga #warhammer #writing #rants #overthinking #rpgs #wfrp

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zelenacat · 4 years ago

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When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 5

“Satine?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to wipe the guards’ memories.”

Opening her eyes, Satine sat up. Obi-Wan was already dressed.

“And then I’ll have to go.”

Satine drew her knees up to her chest, “I’m going to miss you, Ben.”

Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed Satine.

“We’ll see each other again, Love.” he whispered when they separated, their noses inches apart.

Satine nodded and Obi-Wan left, quickly the Duchess dressed and made her way through the servant’s passageways to her quarters.

“You need to get better at sneaking around.” Fesma observed from behind her.

Opening a painting, Satine gestured for Fesma to go first. The lady smiled and passed her, breakfast tray in hand.

“Obi-Wan will be leaving soon,” Satine said, going straight to her closet, “I want to see him off.”

“Where is your lover now?” Fesma teased.

Satine crossed her arms, “Erasing the memories of people who might’ve seen us.”

Fesma snorted.

“Well,” Khaami said, entering through the front door, “that must be very convenient.”

“It is.” Satine grinned.

Once she was dressed, Satine shoved a piece of toast in her mouth and ran down to the landing pad. Obi-Wan was waiting by the ship.

“Your Grace,” the Jedi bent down and kissed Satine’s hand, “thank you for kindly showing me your home.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll see you again, my love.” he whispered.

“I do hope so, Ben.” the Duchess smiled.

The Jedi had a gleam in his eye when he strode back to his ship and took off. Satine on the other hand, felt a terrible weight settle on her chest.

“Come,” Fesma wrapped a hand around Satine’s arm, “you must eat more before you attend your council meeting.”

Over breakfast, Satine recounted the tale of her first kiss with Obi-Wan.

“He had just saved my life,” the Duchess reminisced, “and we were still separated from Master Qui-Gon. It began to rain, but before we ran to the cave, I kissed him.”

“You,” Fesma questioned, “the perfect Duchess of Mandalore who’s never done wrong in her life-”

“Kissed a Jedi?” Khaami raised her eyebrows.

Satine sighed.

“When we were eight you cried when Bo-Katan killed your pet frog.” Fesma grinned.

“I know,” Satine bit her lip, “but hey, if I was going to do something bad, why not do something really bad?”

Khaami laughed, Fesma shook her head.

“Are the servants saying anything?” Satine asked, suddenly serious.

The ladies looked at each other.

“Tell me.” Satine surged. “People are still suspicious of you and the Jedi.” Fesma confessed.

Satine found out exactly how suspicious the palace was at her afternoon briefing.

“Perhaps, Your Grace,” a male minister smiled politely, “it is time you think about taking a husband.”

Satine’s mouth fell open.

“If I may, Your Grace,” a female minister interrupted, “my colleague only suggests such as it would strengthen the duchy and give the people something to celebrate.”

“Are we not doing well,” Satine asked, “are the programs we instituted to help rebuild the economy and the planet not working?”

“We are doing well, Your Grace,” said Prime Minister Djarin, sliding Satine a graph, “but a husband could be of assistance.”

“Could,” Satine emphasized, “I can’t have a power-hungry man on my hands who doesn't have the peoples’ interests at heart.”

“No,” the Prime Minister agreed, “you can’t.”

The Duchess crossed her arms, her point made.

“A husband would put the rumors to rest about you and your Jedi companion.” the male minister from before spoke up.

Satine tilted her head, “I thought you held a better opinion of me, Minister.”

“Your Grace, I meant no offense-”

“Then perhaps you should think before you speak,” Satine stood, frowning, “I shall take a husband when I choose.”

The Duchess left her advisors speechless, Her Grace had never walked out of a meeting before, she was quite agreeable and wanted what was best for her planet. Though, this was a matter of personal nature.

“I won’t marry.” Satine vowed to herself in the mirror.

“You may fall in love again.” Khaami suggested from her left.

Satine glowered at her lady and the woman shoved a fork of dinner into her mouth. They were sitting in her personal parlor eating.

“Perhaps,” Fesma began, “if we threw more social engagements, people might think you’re open to the idea.”

“Or I could give speeches.” Satine suggested.

“Both would be best,” Fesma continued, “this past week you were a little withdrawn.”

“I was busy.”

Khaami huffed, “No kidding.”

The next day at her council meeting, Satine announced that she was going to hold a ball for her twentieth birthday.

“May I ask what caused this change of mind, Your Grace?” asked an advisor.

“I will attempt to find an ally among the noble youth,” Satine crossed her arms, “and if I discern any of them worthy I shall consider marriage.”

The Prime Minister smiled, “Yet you don’t think you shall find anyone.”

“No.”

The advisors looked at one another.

“I also would like to attend more social engagements.” Satine announced.

Half of her advisors were at a loss for words.

“Perhaps, Your Grace,” a female advisor piped up, “an afternoon with the betterment society helping plant trees or other humanitarian work would please you.”

“I would certainly make for good press.” added the Prime Minister.

“Then let’s fill my schedule,” Satine decided, “planting trees, helping with animals, cleaning public parks.”

The Duchess kept herself busy for the next month until her twentieth birthday, she took philanthropic photos, gave speeches at volunteer societies, and made a couple donations. It was a great way to keep her mind off Obi-Wan, and it made it easier to bear missing him.

“I wonder what he’s doing now?” Satine mused one day at dinner.

They were eating in the dining hall now, just Satine and her ladies.

“It’s not good to indulge those thoughts.” Fesma advised.

“Probably meditating,” Khaami answered, “or whatever else the Jedi do.”

Satine smiled at the difference in her ladies’ answers.

“We do have a big day tomorrow, though,” Fesma interjected, raising an eyebrow, “someone has a birthday.”

“Ah, yes,” Satine sighed, “small talk and socializing.”

“Do you really think you’ll find a new beau?” Khaami questioned.

“No,” Satine shook her head, “but it gives the impression that I’m thinking about it.”

The Duchess felt slightly guilty as she was readying for her birthday ball. Was she prideful, because she enjoyed being pampered. In the early morning after breakfast Satine and her ladies got their nails done with some of the other noble ladies. At first, there was an awkward silence when Satine came in.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” the Duchess smiled, “I too enjoy good conversation.”

The women looked at each other.

“What color, Your Grace?” asked one of the attendants.

“Violet.” Satine answered.

The girls immediately started whispering to one another.

“Is that the color of your gown, Your Grace?” piped up a young noble daughter.

Satine winked, “You’ll see.”

The conversation turned to the beau’s of noble sisters and what lord was the most handsome.

“What about you, Your Grace,” prodded a mother, “any noble son you have your eye on?”

It was subtle, but Satin knew what the woman was asking.

So with a sigh, she answered, “It’s such a difficult position to be in, though I suppose I would like a husband who speaks eloquently.”

“What an interesting choice, Your Grace.”

A beat of silence.

“Satine,” Fesma began, “if your preference hasn’t changed since we were twelve I daresay you’ll fancy half of Mandalore.”

Khaami giggled.

Satine blushed, “Oh, Fesma, it’s true I like blue eyes, but what do I know?”

“Blue eyes?” questioned a young noble daughter.

“I find them dreamy.” Satine confessed with a smile.

That immediately got the ladies whispering, and satisfied, Satine leaned back. After her nails were dry, Satine and her ladies went to inspect the jewel room.

“What colors are you wearing, Your Grace?” asked the attendant.

“Gold and violet.” Satine straightened her shoulders.

“Lovely,” the attendant paused for effect, “and your ladies?”

Khaami gasped, Fesma’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of her head.

“Blue and silver.”

The attendant bowed, “Let us browse, Your Grace.”

“We’re going to wear jewels!” Khaami squeaked.

“You’re my ladies,” Satinie smiled, “you have to look the part.”

Khaami ran into Satine’s arms and kissed her cheek.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The Duchess laughed.

“You’re so kind, Satine.” Fesma’s eyes watered.

“We’re friends,” Satine held out her hand, “I realized I haven’t yet thanked you for your service to me.”

Fesma took the Duchess’ hand and squeezed, “Thank you, Satine.”

Once the proper jewels were chosen, Satine bathed, and while a maid began working with her hair, Satine dismissed Fesma and Khaami to get ready themselves.

“You have glorious hair, Your Grace.” commented the maid.

“Thank you,” Satine smiled, “I’m glad I inherited my father’s color.”

“If I may say, Your Grace, I believe the Duke was as well.”

Thinking of her father made Satine remember the day he was killed. She hadn’t seen it, as she was rushed outside, but she’d heard the shot, and that was enough.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh,” Satine sighed, “I was just thinking of the difficult task ahead of me.”

“The system will adore whoever you choose to wed, Your Grace.”

Satine looked at the maid in the mirror, “Thank you for saying as much.”

Khaami and Fesma returned just as the maid, whose name was Parna, opened up the box that held the jewels Satine was going to wear.

“You look lovely, ladies.” the Duchess smiled.

“I feel like the belle of the ball already,” Khaami grinned, “and it hasn’t even started yet!”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Satine smiled, placing a crown on her head, “you're going to help me manage my dance card.”

“Oh my,” Fesma clicked her tongue, “what a task.”

The announcer was more than thrilled to announce his Duchess and her ladies, but the ballroom was more receptive. As Satine walked by whispers reached her ears, she was gorgeous, she was young, she was looking for a husband.

Satine stood gracefully in front of her throne.

“I would like to thank you all for coming on this special day for me,” Satine began, “I am extremely grateful to the extensive work you all have done to help me rebuild are planet, and tonight, I would like to celebrate that work.”

The Duchess paused and the crowd clapped politely.

“On this occasion, my twentieth birthday, I am reminded of how fortunate I am,” Satine swallowed, grabbing a glass, “and so tonight is as much of a celebration of yourselves as it is of me. I would like to make a toast: To the good of Mandalore!”

“To the good of Mandalore!” the crowd agreed.

Satine led the way into dinner, her ladies behind her, and, beyond her ladies, found herself seated next to Count Tarrei Vizsla and Countess Ursa Wren.

“Happy birthday, Your Grace.” the Countess smiled politely.

“Thank you, Countess Wren,” Satine smiled, “I do hope you enjoy the evening.”

“What a wonderful speech, Your Grace,” the Count commented after a beat, “it’s wonderful to see humility reflected in a government.”

“Why thank you-”

“I wonder is it a trait you learned from the Jedi?”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “I think not, my father, the late Duke, was a firm believer in a moral compass and loyalty to one’s country folk, I think such traits are honorable, don’t you, Count Vizsla?”

“I do, Your Grace,” the edge of the Count’s lips twisted, “the late Duke was a man of honor.”

Satine wondered if the Count was implying that she wasn’t honorable. Instead, she smiled and daintily spooned some soup into her mouth.

After dinner, Satine looped her arms between her ladies and let the guests lead the way into the ballroom. Characteristically, the first man to approach her waas Count Vizsla.

“Your Grace,” the man bowed, “may I present my son, Pre Vizsla, Earl of Larrayne.”

Pre Vizsla was neither handsome nor ugly, but when Satine looked into his eyes she saw ambition, and right then she knew that the count Vizsla could never be her father in law.

“Your Grace, would you like to dance?”

Politely, Satine smiled, and held out her hand, “Of course.”

The Duchess and the Earl kept up a polite conversation, but there were stagnant pauses that made both of them despise the other. After the dance, Pre Vizsla bowed and the Duchess was surrounded by a sea of men.

Next, Satine danced with the Viscount Saxon, the Count Awaud, and the Lord Eldar. Although, on the latter, Satine noticed how their conversation kept turning to Khaami. After the dance, Satine took the Lord’s arm and led him to where her ladies were socializing.

“Khaami,” Satine smiled, “May I present Lord Eldar.”

Their eyes met, and Khaami blushed.

“Would you like to dance, Lady Khaami.”

Khaami looked to Satine, who nodded.

“I would love to.”

Satine took Khaami’s glass and joined the conversation, looping her arm through Fesma’s.

“Have you any favorites yet, Your Grace?” winked a noble daughter her age.

Satine swirled her drink, “Unfortunately, I found I have lost some faith in the male sex this night.”

Fesma snorted.

“Don’t worry, Duchess,” a lady said earnestly, “the night is still young.”

“Your right,” Satine took a sip of her drink, “perhaps we’ll all get less intoxicated as the night goes on.”

Fesma giggled.

“I suppose then, Your Grace,” another lady ventured, “that you’ve already made up your mind?”

“Well,” Satine hesitated, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind being swept off my feet.”

“By a blue-eyed gentleman.” Fesma added.

“A romantic gentlemen.” Satine corrected.

“Oh,” agreed a young noble daughter, “wouldn’t we all.”

The ladies giggled.

The dancing went on late into the night, though Satine only danced a couple more times, she and Fesma were fed up with pleasantries. Khaami however, had a wonderful evening in the arms of Lord Eldar.

“He’s my boyfriend now.” Khaami told Satine and Fesma that evening.

“Really?” Fesma grinned.

“Yes, Warx asked me and everything.”

“Warx?” Satine raised an eyebrow.

“Lord Eldar.”

Satiine smiled, “Ah.”

Fesma returned all the jewels while Khaami helped Satine into her nightgown.

“I’m sorry you had to put on this ruse.” said the lady.

“It’s what’s expected,” Satine replied, knowing exactly what she was talking about, “falling in love with a man I can’t have, that was unexpected.”

“Still, I’m sorry, Satine.” Khaami included.

The full weight of missing Obi-Wan fell on Satine, it had been a week since he’d left, and the Duchess was beginning to wonder what it would be like if he never came back.

“Satine, maybe you should ask about Tyra,” Khaami suggested, “I’m sure Master Qui-Gon would be kind to you.”

“He would’ve,” Satine agreed, “but Master Qui-Gon’s dead.”

The Duchess dismissed Khaami to the room she shared with Fesma and climbed under the covers. Guilt gnawed at her, Satine couldn’t give her children the lives they should’ve had, yet she wanted to keep them close. Satine cried on and off for the next few hours, but eventually fell into a restless sleep. Awaking before Fesma and Khaami would come with breakfast, Satine stared at the ceiling and thought about what Tyra’s life must be like at the temple. Then she thought about Korkie. He was beyond the point of waking up in the night to cry, but he still needed loving care and attention. Something she wasn’t really able to give him with her busy schedule.

“Satine?”

Swallowing, the Duchess sat up and turned to Fesma.

“Are you,” the lady paused, “alright?”

Satine nodded, but said nothing. Fesma stepped forward and set down Satine’s tray, Khaami soon followed with purified water. Satine grunted a thank you.

“I’ll go,” Fesma looked around, “pick out your outfit.”

Khaami sat down on the edge of the bed, “Satine, what’s wrong?”

The Duchess sighed, “I miss Obi-Wan, that’s all.”

“We could arrange time for Korkie in your schedule if you like, Satine.” Fesma added, coming out of the closet.

“I’d like that.” the Duchess admitted.

After she ate, Satine let her ladies help her dress, and escort her to the council meeting.

“You don’t need to worry,” the Duchess told her ladies, “I’ll just say I’m hungover.”

Khaami and Fesma shared a look.

“Okay, okay,” Satine sighed, “I’ll try to smile.”

Fortunately enough for the Duchess, today’s topic was very interesting to her.

“Naboo and Cerea are unhappy with the new tariffs,” the Prime Minister announced, “and both have requested audiences with the Duchess to negotiate new terms.”

“Parliament will dislike that.” observed one advisor. “Perhaps,” Satine spoke up, “I could visit Parliament and see what they feel strongly about, then I would be better prepared for the meeting.”

“Your Grace is willing?” questioned an advisor.

“Yes.” Satine nodded.

The meeting scribe jotted something down. After Satine had dismissed her advisors, the Prime Minister pulled her aside.

“Parliament is a lion’s den,” said Jaru Djarin with care, “you must be prepared to growl when you go in there.”

“I will,” Satine nodded, “is there anything you recommend?”

“Become the crown, a statue, be everything Parliament was made to serve,” at seeing Satine’s look, the Prime Minister added, “I shall be there as well for assistance.”

On the day she was going to Parliament, Satine dressed as if she were going to war. Enrobed in a white and gold dress with the Kryze colors on a royal sash across her chest, Satine looked much like she had when she was crowned.

“What crown shall I send for, Your Grace?” Parna asked, appearing in the doorway.

“The golden warrior’s eye,” Satine decided, “the one that looks like the sun.”

Parna curtsied, “Yes, Your Grace.”

When she’d left, Fesma turned to Satine, “Going to make an impression, are we?”

“My father wore that crown to his most important state affairs,” Satine stated, “I want to show Parliament that I am like my father.”

Fesma nodded, “It does bolster male egos to see a man in charge.”

“True,” Khaami agreed, “shall we do your hair in a braided bun?”

“Yes, I think so.”

When Parna returned, she gently held out a golden box to Satine.

“The Jewel Master wanted me to tell you he thinks you’ve chosen wisely.”

Satine took the box, “Thank you, Parna, do tell him later that I appreciate his sentiment.”

Parna smiled, “I will, Your Grace.”

Satine’s ladies helped her to the carriage, but from then on she was on her own. When they arrived at the Parliament building, Satine noticed some photographers outside.

“It’s not everyday the Crown visits Parliament, Your Grace.” observed the driver when he caught Satine’s eye.

The door opened and a hand was offered to help the Duchess out of the car. When she stepped out, chatter stopped, the cameras flashed.

“Duchess Satine,” the Prime Minister appeared on the stairs above her, “may I escort you in?”

“I would be delighted.” Satine smiled, gracefully ascending the steps and holding out her hand.

The inside of the Parliament building was decorated with chiseled busts of important leaders, symbolic paintings, and marble pillars that, combined with the marble floor, caused Satine’s shoes to echo with every step.

“The Honorable Prime Minister Djarin and Her Grace, Duchess Kryze of Mandalore.”

Satine felt every pair of eyes in the room on her, she hadn’t graced Parliament with her presence since she’d opened it when she was a new Duchess.

At the end of the room there were two chairs which Prime Minister Jaru led them towards, one a wooden throne, elegantly carved, sat on the left of the center throne, which was marble. Ascending the dias, Satine turned and sat gracefully on the center throne, once she was fully seated, everyone, including the Prime Minister, followed.

“Our monarch is here today,” began Jaru Djarin, “to hear your reasoning behind the strict tariffs on Cerea and Naboo, she would like to open the floor to discussion and hear what you feel strongly about.”

Satine studied the room, Mandalore had four political parties that each held an amount of seats in Parliament, the long hall had four seating areas against the walls, and each group sat under a flag of singular color. Red, orange, yellow, and white.

“Your Grace,” a minister from the red group stood, “we have just been through a terrible ordeal, and Naboo and Cerea, our closest trading partners, certainly wouldn’t mind helping us.”

Chatter rose up around the room.

“Unfortunately,” the Duchess began, speaking as loud as she could while remaining dignified, “they do mind, and feel they are being treated unfairly. If we wish them to help us, we must give them something in return.”

That certainly sparked whispers.

As more and more ministers stood, Satine saw where the argument split, the red and yellow parties were on one side, while orange and white were on the other. The red and yellow parties felt that they should be aggressive with the tariff negotiations, the orange and white parties disagreed, and thought the opposite.

“Perhaps,” Satine began, trying to calm the uproar that had suddenly erupted, “we should stand firm on our implementation of the tariffs, yet be lenient and willing to negotiate on some of the principles.”

The room went silent.

“What principles do you suggest, Your Grace?” asked the Prime Minister.

Satine straightened, “We lower the percent of tax down from twenty five percent to fifteen, yet we ask for a loan to be repaid without interest.”

The ministers whispered among each other, the Prime Minister smiled. It took an hour to hammer out the rest of the details, yet all of Parliament agreed that the Duchess had divulged a good tactic.

The next morning, Satine woke to a squeal from Khaami.

“Satine!”

“Sh, Khaami-”

“Satine, you won't believe it!”

Sighing, the Duchess sat up.

“They’re calling you the She-Wolf of Mandalore!” Khaami giggled.

“Your performance yesterday was spectacular, Satine.” Fesma agreed.

Grinning and giggling like a little girl, Satine asked to see the holonews.

“She-Wolf of Mandalore,” Satine smiled, “I like that.”

#satine kryze #duchess satine #satine x obiwan #obiwan #obi wan kenobi #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze

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djarinbarnes · 5 years ago

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Promise? II

Author: Dina

Word Count: 3118

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: angst, funeral... childbirth.

masterpost

December 1943

The memorial and burial of Bucky and his comrades was beautiful. You were allowed to see his casket before the service, and you had cherished every moment. You told him about everything that had happened, how the little one inside your womb had started kicking when you talked about him, and how it would nudge against your hand as you held it while you cried.

You had brought along a small teddy, holding it closely to your belly as the pastor said his words for the fallen soldiers. Tears slid down your cheeks as you watched the ceremony. Some of the widows were motioned to say their goodbyes. You felt your heart sink deeper into the darkness as you were approached by an elderly woman, her smile apologetic.

“It’s time to say goodbye, darling.” she said, and you broke down. Hearing the nickname from her lips plunged deep into your heart, the realization that you would never hear Bucky call you that again clouding your mind. You sobbed in agony, hands squeezing the teddy bear tighter. You weren’t ready to say goodbye. You never would be.

You approached his casket slowly, clutching the teddy, feeling a swift nudge against your ribs. You inhaled deeply, finding some comfort in the life growing inside you. You laid your hand on the white surface, sliding your hand over the soft curve. You leaned down, your lips resting on the cold exterior, channeling all your love into the top. Your forehead came to rest just over where your lips had laid.

“I love you, Bucky. We love you.” you whispered as your tears fell softly on the white exterior. You kissed the surface again, leaving your lips lingering for just a short while. Images of Bucky flooded the back of your eyelids.

Bucky admiring his favorite painting at the Met. Bucky kissing the back of your hand. Bucky tagging you along through Central Park, showing you his favorite spot. Bucky leaning in to kiss you softly, your first. Bucky in the soft glow of the sunset. Bucky on top of you, making love to you. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

You brought the soft plush to your lips and exhaled through your nose, mind clouded with Bucky. You placed the teddy bear on top of the casket, along with another kiss. You pulled away as the tears kept streaming down your face, hands coming up to embrace your growing bump. You winced as a shot rang through the graveyard, followed by another. In honor of our fallen soldiers.

“(Y/n) Barnes?” you whipped around when a male voice spoke up behind you.

“Yes?” you managed to croak out.

“I’m Sergeant Roone.” he told you, laying a hand on your arm. “I fought alongside your husband. He was a brave man.” he stilled for a moment. You embraced him tightly, tearing up yet again.

“I’m so sorry Sergeant. It must have been awful for you, out there. What you had to see..” You bit back another sob as he held you out at an arm's length.

“My sweet girl, nothing compares to the loss you’re feeling.” he motioned to your stomach and you nodded. You felt his hand on the side of your stomach, and you sighed. “He was always talking about you. I wish you could have seen him when he read your letters. His face always lit up, when the mail came.“ you sobbed as you felt your heart flutter in your chest. “I was lucky enough that I got to travel with the… fallen.. out of there. I don’t know what else would’ve happened if I hadn’t,” you laid your hand over his and mustered a smile at him.

“Sergeant Roone, thank you for your service.” you told him with a grateful squeeze on top of his hand. “Do you know if Bucky got my last letters?” you asked, wanting to know if he died knowing.

“I do not, unfortunately. But that was the reason I approached you. We managed to salvage your letters from the site. And one on your husband when we found him. We figured he was writing when he fell before the enemy.” He pulled out a stack of letters, handing them over to you. You felt your heart halt, and skip a beat.

“Oh my god.” you whispered, feeling a sting in your heart. Here they were. The letters. Your letters. His last letter? You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you embraced Bucky’s comrade in another hug. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you so much Sergeant.”

You came home that evening feeling defeated. You had the letters he had sent you tucked away in a box under your bed. When a day rolled around where you missed him too much, you would read them over and over again. And you read them many times. The loss of the love of your life was unbearing, and you missed him so much your heart stung in your chest.

Today was one of those days. You quietly found the box under your bed, softly caressing your hard bump. It was February soon, and the symbol of your love would soon be born into this world. The nearing of the date was almost painful, and with every day passing, you felt the dreading grow larger. You didn’t want to do this without your Bucky by your side.

You had moved into Bucky’s apartment shortly before he shipped out, your mother coming to visit you almost every day. You shuffled to your couch, settling down softly against the back of it, wincing at the discomfort. You pulled out the first letter and slid it out of the envelope, already tearing up by looking at the neat handwriting that belonged to your late husband.

May 27th 1943

My dearest, darling (y/n).

I know that I left barely a week ago, but I already miss you so dearly.

Some of our chaps received their marching orders tonight and tomorrow they’re going to the Dr.s’ to be examined for the front. Some of them expect to leave for England on Saturday.

I know you were distraught when I left that morning, and I deeply wish I could’ve stayed with you, held you and loved you forever. I will love you forever though, but for now, I will love you from a distance. That morning I couldn’t make out what was up, whether you didn’t want to say something that someone might’ve heard or if you felt like something was up with me?

I know you wanted to say something but couldn’t bring yourself to it, but please don’t ever keep anything from me, my love. What pains you, pains me.

Now my love, I must sleep. It’s a warm night tonight, and all I can think of is the warmth you fill my heart with.

Goodnight for now.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

A sob left your lips as you read over the last two lines again and again.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

You packed away the first letter and found the next one. It slid out of the envelope easily, and you sniffled.

June 8th 1943

Dear, lovely (y/n).

What have you been doing today? I suppose you’ve read your favorite book, or listened to your favorite Billie Holiday record. I miss you so much.

As you probably have heard, we’re in England now. It’s nice here so far. Almost doesn’t feel like war. One of the chaps has just come in the room feeling a little better than good, if you know what that means, and is trying to get into bed. It is just the sort of thing to make one think and wonder how men came make such fools of themselves … I guess it is up to me to go over and take his clothes off now.

It’s strange, how different lives are. How different we want them to turn out. In all likelihood, I imagine a grand day, and I imagine ending up with my little doll and a kiss that I can feel now. Have I not much to be thankful for? Am I not lucky? And should not my life show this good fortune (if I may call it so) in many ways? There are some questions for you to help me in solving. I often ponder over them and can only see one course ahead.

But where am I taking you? Away off into philosophy, I suppose you would call it. I’d like to call it Life. The grand, the noble, the fascinating problem of living. Sometimes, you know, I think that I could be happy, yes truly happy, away off far from the bother of human uproar, hidden away in some place of grandeur alone with you.

You have pictured it to me and I can see it, but, no darling, that would not be true happiness. I’m sure we would both tire of it in a very short while. It would be gorgeous and lovely for a time, but I think there would be a longing for a something that was not there.

I like sometimes to think of a different scene, perhaps something like this: a room filled with books and all the necessities of a library and you, I and our child reading Alice in Wonderland together. We are all tired, for it is after a strenuous day, and oh how we are enjoying it and are happy as happy can be.

I know this is longer than what you’re used to, but I’ve just missed you so much lately and all this writing is letting me unravel my thoughts to you. I’ve almost forgotten what you like me to say, what you want me to say and what I want to say myself.

One thing I do remember though, is that I love you.

Your Bucky.

You smiled at the thought of the two of you reading Alice in Wonderland again. You had read it aloud to him during the winter, and he had stared lovingly at your lips with every word that fell from them. You put the letter back into the envelope and pulled out the next one. You took a deep breath and wiped your cheeks.

July 1st 1943

My dear, sweet (y/n).

First and most important, I suppose that you have heard the news. This time I think that it is sure and that we will be on the frontline some time this side of Sunday. That is about all I can think of at present. It does not seem possible, after so many disappointments that we are really going. The boys seem to be going crazy; by tomorrow there will be no holding them. There is to be a parade of every man in the battery then and the news will come to us officially.

My, it’s so long since I have seen you and so long since I promised to write you and again so long since talking with you that it is hard to find much to write about. Writing is at its heart but a very poor apology for speech and when I think that it will be but a short time till I can tell you all the news.

Your Bucky.

You sniffled yet again, wiping your nose on your handkerchief. You picked up the next letter.

July 7th 1943

My darling (y/n).

We’re at the frontlines by now. I wish I could muster writing you more letters, but it always seems like there is never the time. I promise you, I will write to you soon.

I love you so much, my dear.

Your Bucky.

You sighed before putting it back into the envelope. You found the small package of letters, setting it on the table in front of you. You undid the string holding the letters together, removing the dog tags bound along with them. You looked through them, grasping the two last ones. You looked at your handwriting on the front of the last envelope, then turning it over slowly. It had been opened. He died knowing. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, putting the envelope down.

For the first time, you looked at Bucky’s last letter. You felt the acid burning your throat as you took in the dried red splatters on the folded piece of paper, and you slammed it down on the table before running to the kitchenette and emptying the contents of your stomach into your trash bin. You felt your cheeks wet with tears again, crying silently while hunched over in an uncomfortable position.

You rose and washed your hands, dreading the walk back to the table where you knew the blood-splattered letter was resting. You wiped the tears off your cheeks before softly padding over the floor, picking the letter up and unfolding it. Another sob tore through you, just seeing his handwriting.

August 16th 1943

My dearest, sweetest (y/n)

My dearest little treasure. I just could not help crying as I read what you had written and the tears rolled down my cheeks as I thanked God for having given me such a little treasure as you are. Two treasures, now.

Dearest, if I should lose you I dare not think what I should do! I love you so much and want you with all my heart and soul just for myself (and sprout, of course). I could be happy anywhere with you. Now more than ever. The seed inside of you is growing, and you are carrying our love inside of you.

My dearest (y/n), how much you have helped me so far. I used to think that perhaps it was not the right thing for me to “fall in love” when there was so much ahead of me. But as time went on, and I knew you better, those feelings gradually left me. You grew more and more into the woman I had imagined, more and more I watched your faith and admired your goodness for I can find no other word to express it; you had emerged in a simplicity and a purity, which was hard for me to realize.

Why all this? Well it was no temptation to you to have me holding you in my arms; you were innocent, you cured me with a pure and unsullied love. To have me with you was satisfying in itself. I never in my life have as tempted as with you. I think it was because I loved you from the start. I can still feel that there is more in love than many think.

It has taken me some time to pen all this; I could not talk to you in the same way. I would simply stumble over the words and not manage to say anything at all.

Now dearest, I think I will have to leave this for a while. Oh! I do pray that we will both be proud to be united again in health and strength and to work along our journey together. I cannot wait until you are in my arms again, along with our love brought into the world by you.

I love you so much my dear. And sprout as well. So much.

Your Bucky.

You clutched the letter tightly against your chest, crying until your throat couldn’t muster any more sounds. Your eyes itched terribly from the constant wetness, and as you looked up, you realized it was night. You had no recollection of how long you had been seated with the letter, simply crying.

As you laid back in bed that night, you pulled your legs up underneath you as you cradled your bump. You glanced over to the folded up American flag on your dresser, silver dog tags gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window.

“Daddy loves you, sprout.” you whispered as you stroked the soft skin of your belly. “He loves you so much.” your body gave in to the exhaustion, falling into a sleepless slumber.

February 1944

January had been the slowest of the slowest. Every move you made was a painful waddle, every thought you thought was Bucky. He was everywhere. You sighed as you tried getting comfortable in the nest of pillows you had built, one between your legs and another under your head. The baby had limited it’s movements as January came to an end, and you were starting to get worried. You groaned in pain as you felt another contraction, the discomfort subsiding too slowly for your liking.

“Mom,” you managed to whimper, and she hurried to where you laid, stroking your forehead slowly.

“Shh, honey, it’s alright.” she managed to get your focus on her as your ragged breath strained your throat. “Breathe with me,” she guided your breathing to a steady, regular breathing as she held your hand. “That’s it, baby girl, good job.”

You smiled at her weakly, eyebrows furrowing together in a tight knot. You let out a muffled, pained groan as another contraction washed through you, and you felt the pressure moving downwards.

“Mom, it’s happening. Is the midwife going to be here soon?” you looked at her, eyes full of fear as you gripped her hand tightly. She nodded and wiped your forehead with a damp cloth.

“Relax honey, she’ll make it. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here.” your mother assured you as you heard a faint knock on the door before it opened, revealing your midwife and a doctor. You relaxed against the bed as her presence calmed you down. Oh thank god.

“Mrs. Barnes, how are you feeling? Are the contractions bearable?” she asked as she laid out a few layers of cloth on the bed before helping you move around into her desired position. You barely nodded before she lifted your loose nightgown and checked in between your legs.

“You’re having a baby soon, Mrs. Barnes. I can see the head already!” she smiled as she took your hand, stroking it softly. You smiled at her weakly, the doctor moving in between your legs to help you give birth. “When you feel the urge, you need to push, Mrs. Barnes!” the midwife told you as you tightened your hand around hers and your mothers, pushing as if your life depended on it. You focused on where the silver dog tags swung from. Where you were gripping your mother’s hand. He was there. You felt it.

You suddenly felt empty. A searing cry tore through the small apartment, letting you know you succeeded.

“Congratulations Mrs. Barnes. It’s a boy!”

#Bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel smut #avengers smut #sebastian stan imagine

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

INDRUCK 6 PLS (sfw is prob more appropriate for this prompt but idc)

#6: their mentor just died (of natural causes don’t look at me like that). If I went to the funeral out of costume would they recognize me?

Indrid sees the obituary as he’s reading through the tiny, local paper, eggnog latte in one hand a plate of poptarts before him (his metabolism has been odd ever since he got his super powers).

Leo Tarkesian (1954-2020), passed away in his sleep. Mr. Tarkesian was a beloved figure of the Midtown Kepler community. He was dedicated to keeping the charm and friendliness of the town alive.

“And dedicated to being a pain in my ass.” Indrid grumbles.

A small funeral service will be held at Green Hills Cemetery, followed by a celebration of his life at the house of his long-time friend, Duck Newton.

The date and time follows, but Indrid keeps looking back at that name: Duck Newton. Or, as he’s known to Indrid, the Green Knight, superhero and thorn in his side.

Indrid moved to Kepler because it was a small enough city that he assumed there would be no heroes to get in the way of his villainy. Or, what everyone insists is his villainy: the disasters linked to his name were never his fault.

The thievery, art heists, and blackmailing of a few (corrupt) local politicians he takes full credit for.

Leo, AKA Lionheart, was mostly retired until Indrid appeared, at which point he took on a protege in the form of Duck Newton. Along with their friend Minerva (AKA Blue Thunder) they defended Kepler as “The Chosen Squad.”

In truth, Indrid does not bear Duck as much ill will as he should. And most of it is currently coming from the black eye he’s nursing, the result of his last fight with the hero. The man is noble, even as heroes go, never more aggressive than he needs to be, and (annoyingly) rather charming at times.

Then there’s the fact that Indrids powers of future sight have shown him glimpses of Duck’s daily life (those same powers are why he knows his foes’ secret identities, but they have no idea about his). A mild mannered park ranger, a good friend, a bachelor who talks to his cat in extremely funny voices.

He flips through timelines until he lands on what Duck Newton will likely be doing today. In each one, the hero looks worn, and when he wipes his eyes or his voice goes rough, Indrid turns his minds-eye away. Even obnoxious do-gooders deserve privacy.

Would it be strange for him to visit the funeral and offer his condolences? He’s fairly certain his secret identity would stay that way.

No, it would be ridiculous. Leo was well-liked, and no doubt Duck will have plenty of support. There’s no need for Indrid to put his identity at risk just to say “I’m sorry.”

—————————-

Indrid stands at the back of the clump of black-clad bodies. He found a black suit jacket buried in his closet, but no slacks, so he had to opt for the nicest black jeans he could locate. To be extra safe, he’s removed his trademark red glasses. He dislikes how exposed he feels without them.

The ceremony is indeed brief, Duck giving a short eulogy as the casket lowers into the ground.

Indrid waits, letting others speak with Duck in hushed, sad tones. Looks around the cemetery as he does; it’s peaceful, full of flower beds and stone benches, not overly manicured. It might be a nice place to come draw one of these days.

When next he glances back at the headstone, Duck is nowhere to be seen. He must have left for his house already.

Indrid tries not to be too disappointed, turns back towards his car. He’s nearly there when something black catches his eye through a clump of tangled rosebushes.

Duck Newton, alone on a bench, with the bearing of a man trying and failing to get himself together.

Indrid steps through the archway into the little grassy circle, at the center of which sits a fountain, barely bubbling.

“Tissue?” He produces a small packet of them from his pocket. A villain must be prepared for everything, after all.

“Oh, uh, thanks, uh.” Duck looks at him just long enough for Indrid to start worrying. Then he reaches for a tissue and wipes his eyes.

“You, uh, a friend of Leo’s?”

“Not really. But I went to his store regularly, and he was always very kind. It seemed only right to pay my respects.”

(It’s not a lie. Indrid’s loft is on the same block as Tarkesian’s General Store. So what if they were enemies, sometimes you run out of milk).

“That’s, uh, that’s real kind.” Duck keeps his eyes on the ground, and Indrid sits down beside him.

“You are the one hosting the celebration of life, right?”

“Yeah. Guess I oughta head over there, since it’s technically my house. But Minerva already went ahead with the first group of guests, and I trust her and…and well, I needed a moment of not havin to run things.”

“Quite understandable. I will leave you in peace. And I am sorry.”

“You don’t, uh, fuck, I wasn’t tryin to be rude, fuck-”

“It’s alright” Indrid holds up his hand to stop Duck continuing, “You are allowed to grieve as you need to.”

Duck looks at him again, this time more deliberately taking in his features, “Do we know each other? You seem real familiar.”

“I imagine we’ve passed each other on occasion. Kepler is small as cities go. Although I don’t get out often. I embody the reclusive artist stereotype too well at times.”

“You paint?”

“I draw, mostly.” He’s about to stand when Duck leans forward.

“Shit, someone got you good.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your eye.” Duck taps underneath his own right eye, indicating the bruise.

Cursing himself for his oversight (his glasses normally cover the mark), he blurts out the first explanation that comes to mind, “It was the Mothman, the supervillain, I ran into him in a, uh, dark alley, and there was a fight.”

Duck frowns, “Thought he knew better than to go after random bystanders. Uh, fuck, that is, he honestly don’t strike me as the mean type. Just self-centered and hurt. Uh, that, fuck, that is ah, from what, fuck I’ve read?”

Indrid ignores the terrible lie, clears his throat, “Well, that’s certainly a kinder view than most people take of him.”

Duck shrugs, “Leo always said hero and villain shit was never as cut and dry as people wanna believe. He had the right idea. I think the Mothman might come around some day.”

“Perhaps.” Indrid murmurs, wondering if is inappropriate to ask ones nemesis if they could draw them; Duck’s face is even more striking without his mask.

“I ought to be going. My condolences again.”

“Thank you.” Duck stands with him, walks out the archway by his side before they each turn towards separate parts of the parking lot, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

Indrid can’t stop his grin, “Most definitely.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #prompt fills #superhero au

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