#Wartime Fiction

[quirky-book-reads]

A Mother's War

My 3.5* review of A Mother's War by Helen Parusel (@HelenParusel). A Mother's War is an emotive story about one woman's journey of friendship and other experiences as she falls in love with the enemy... #historicalfiction #ww2 #comingofage #debutnovel

Genre: Historical Fiction A forbidden romance in occupied Norway… Narvik, 1940. After Laila awakens to the sight of warships in the fjord, it isn’t long before she turns resistor to the brutal Nazi regime. She is horrified when local girls begin affairs with enemy soldiers, yet against her own principles, she finds herself falling in love with German soldier, Josef. Josef is not like the…

[verityreadsbooks]

Series I love: Emmy Lake

This week’s series post was an easy choice because the third Emmy Lake Book came out in the UK yesterday (it’s not out in the US until August) and I’ve read it and it’s good. It’s also a long time since I’ve written about a historical series that’s *not* a murder mystery one so it’s also a nice dash of variety for you all! When we meet Emmy Lake at the start of the series, it is 1940 and she is…

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Queer Historical Military Fiction

In Memoriam by Alice Winn Regeneration by Pat Barker As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann The Charioteer by Mary Renault The Night Watch by Sarah Waters

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1944 illustration by Stanley Davis by totallymystified Via Flickr: For the story Thursday’s Child by Donald Macardle. From Woman And Home magazine.

[jannetstopit]

"He’d prayed for Luce every night, curled up in his sleeping bag, Reagan didn't know it, but his prayers were answered in the form of their lips."

-written by me.

[redd956]

PTSD In Mondie

Content: Unreality, My Worldbuilding: SOA, PTSD, Fiction

CW: Wartime, PTSD, Alcohol, Homelessness, Drugs, Flashback Attack

Very few times around the Arethian Realms does PTSD look different. In the war veteran hotspot of Castellite, the grandiose and militaristic nation, Mondie, that's a different story.

It was in my face as soon as I exited the transport hub. A middle aged catfolk wobbled down the street before drunkenly colliding into a public trash can, his mostly empty bottle bursting into shards against the unkempt sidewalk. No body batted an eye.

Block after block it was the same, the unhoused gathered around clusters of tents, young men missing their legs walked with crutches, scarred face bakers, and women with reconstructed faces.

Contrast to the traumatized people were the bright red and purple banners draped aside skyscrapers. Species and Mondieans of all kinds marched around in uniform jackets and service caps, their fancy military grade weaponry slung across their backs. Don't get me started about the tanks.

On a rainy morning of seanika's season, I found myself in need of some proper sword repairs. Carrying my great sword through the Mondiean mud proved a challenge. Before entering the shop, I accidentally slashed by hand open, and entered some poor superhuman's shop dripping blood onto his floor.

He laughed that off, readjusting his hat over the common black hair I swear was everyone's in Mondie. Underneath his Castellian eyes were a thick face altering scar that had slashed and broken his face from eye socket to lip corner. The affected eyelid no longer opened, but his smile continued to shine brighter than most I recall seeing back home.

Even his Central Mondiean had an accent as he accepted my sword. Without thinking I clasped my palms together and let my red healing magic flow. A glowing red absorbed my hands. The stinging mud slathered cut lost all feeling, but I barely got a chance to breathe in the relief.

The swordsmith knocked over, throwing himself on the floor. He begun to frantically kick his legs, scooting backwards into wood panel walls. Cries erupted out of him as he raised his hands to protect himself, speaking far too fast for me to get a grasp of what was wrong. No matter what I did or said next the man didn't come to. He simply cowered there, on the floor behind his desk, his hands shivering, his eyes...

I don't even know how I to describe eyes like that. They weren't looking in that shop that day, and they definitely weren't fixated upon me.

His wife came stumbling out of the backroom. She skidded to a halt before him, speaking in calm short intervals. Her movements matched that speed, her hands especially, extending slowly before them.

I waited outside the shop. Sitting there and watching them two, it was watering my eyes. His wife came and greeted me. We both stood there for a few minutes watching the rain come down as if it was trying to kill Mondie.

"I'm sorry." She sighed.

"No- No it's- it's okay."

"He hasn't been back very long." Her voice had an achy shake, and I could feel the twinging pain lining against her throat as she spoke.

She handed back my sword, but I needed to know, "What happened?"

"Your magic- He mistook it as something else. He's been jumpy about chromatic magic lately."

There was nothing else to say as she disappeared back inside. I wish I could say this was my last similar experience in Mondie, but it wasn't. A fellow traveler told me the people drink, smoke, snort, and eat their woes away here. The bakeries are nice, and the downtowns are pristine and wealthy, but the people, the ordinary people, this is what they were left to.

They slaved away in Mondie's wars, then suffered within Mondie's borders. I asked a Mondiean about it once, to see what someone living here had to say.

"You should see the Ronscovians."

That was their enemy in most the recent wars. I shuddered, and never asked another soul. Once I arrive in Ronscovia, I'm not saying a word.

[turanga4]

TTB Pride Fest: Sneak Peek

Lil Sapphic faculty action for @thethreebroomsticksficfest ,except hello, I am turanga, there's not all that much action.

A knock on the office door pulled her from her musings: Pomona, with an ample wicker basket set to her left side.  Poppy schooled her features to what she hoped was a look of warm unconcern and invited her in with a bright tone of voice.

“Good holiday?” Her social obligation, a checking of the vitals. Images came to Poppy unbidden: the whites of Pomona’s eyes and the pulse point of her wrist below the pushed-up sleeve.

Pomona answered softly, shifting the basket against her broad hip as she moved towards the counter on the other side of the room. “I missed you.”  

The quiet stretched between them then as Pomona began to reach into her basket.  Poppy, not watching, pulled out two chairs for them to sit before sighing and, at last, lowering herself into hers.

“You made it clear that you would be…occupied.” Another silence. “Were you? No, wait, you can’t say.” 

“Mostly in the greenhouses, like always, to be honest.  As I told them—as I told you —not every soldier needs to be on the front lines.” 

Poppy pursed her lips. “That’s a Muggle metaphor anyway. Hogwarts isn’t Bosnia.” 

“More’s the pity. That war’s over.” Pomona paused. “I’m sorry, I’m bringing it up again, aren’t I?” She reached into the basket again, withdrawing a muslin cloth wrapped around four sandwiches.  A mint-green pitcher followed, along with two cups.  “You don’t eat on the train and supper’s not for two more hours.”

Poppy rose from her chair, turning her attention to the first things Pomona had unloaded. Goldenrod, star grass, dittany—ingredients  for salves to make before the start of term. A coarse burlap sack was also set on the counter, plump with something she hadn’t requested. Poppy scrunched her nose against the acrid smell and inspected the plant within—flat leaves on reddish vines and tiny white flowers standing up like pins.

“What’s this one?”

“Knotweed. For swelling.”

Poppy pulled her mouth slightly to one side. “That’s not a proven remedy.” 

Pomona shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to add a bit.” Ice clattered in the cups as she poured from the pitcher. 

Poppy scrutinized the woman before her. “Pomona, what do you know?”

[nihilnovisubsole]

@snackingcatlady replied to your post:

wholeheartedly agree. man needs comfort

niko bellic is extremely silly-rabbit-wet-rat and all the other things we're calling certain types of men these days. if you enjoyed any of the crowdsourced goncharov characters or like, the disco elysium guys, he may have something to offer you. he has the worst past of all the GTA protagonists. he's a stone-cold killer, but awkward, empathetic, and polite. he spends most of the game at the mercy of bigger criminals who wear him out and turn on him when he's outlived his usefulness.

that said, i'm not surprised that GTA4 passed a lot of people by lmao. the series' writing tends to be in poor taste on purpose, and 5's graphics and gameplay have a lot more shine in this day and age. still, in a world like that, there's a perverse charm to a guy who would just want to drive taxis if he weren't so consumed with revenge. if you pay for sex, he laments that his mother would be ashamed of him. he admits that all he wants is to be loved. could you fix him? you bet.

[visualvocals]

Set in 1999-2021 Afghanistan just before the occupation and full on war on terror—a fictional story of 9 sisters coming of age, struggling with tradition, expectations, love, and religion.

Against a backdrop of tribalism, extremism, and politics—journey into this beautiful story as it follows these women as they navigate and traverse an uncertain future of their nation and ultimate their own existence.

Coming to Netflix 2032

[bargainsleuthbooks]

Wartime Arrivals at Harbour House by Fenella J Miller #BookReview #BoldwoodBooks #ARCReview #HistoricalFiction #WWIIFiction

Fenella J Miller is back at it with another wonderful WWII fiction series set in England in the days leading up to WWII. You won't want to miss it! #BookReview #WartimeArrivalsatHarbourHouse #NetGalley #BoldwoodBooks #ARCReview #WWIIFiction #Wivenhoe

It’s time for another book review from my never-ending TBR list. Most books mentioned in my reviews can be found at the affiliate links below or try your local library! (Amazon US) (Kindle Unlimited) (Amazon CA) (Amazon UK)  (AbeBooks) (Barnes & Noble) (Booksamillion)  (Audible.com) (Audiobooks.com) Preorder a BRAND NEW historical saga from Fenella J Miller full of courage and bravery. London…

[quirky-book-reads]

A Wartime Welcome from the Foyles Bookshop Girls, #4

Genre: Historical Fiction, Sagas London, 1918: the world is being torn apart by war, but for the girls of London’s Foyles bookshop, where there is friendship, there is hope… Perfect for fans of Rosie Clarke and Elaine Everest. Ellen Beckford and her sister Mary are living under their father’s shadow. Before their beloved mother died, they had dreamed of bright futures, but torn apart by grief,…

[rozmorris]

The old quiet places, Alan Garner and the work of time, I spoil a writer's dreams, a little horse. All in my newsletter https://mailchi.mp/69758bb72d7f/the-old-quiet-places-alan-garner-and-the-work-of-time-i-spoil-a-writers-dreams-a-little-horse

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1944 illustration by Stanley Davis by totallymystified Via Flickr: For the story Thursday’s Child by Donald Macardle. From Woman And Home magazine.

[strange-birdy-me]

I need more of this!!!

“My dear fellow, what you’re asking of me is impossible. Why, it is an act no good Christian man would willingly commit.”

“The way I see it, you owe me. And it’s payback time.”

[a-silent-observer]

Ohhhhhhh noooooooooooo when will it end for real