#adas navi
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banggyu0308 · 2 years ago
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☕️ Moots + Anons
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My lovely anons:
🐼 <3
🧁 <3
🥨 <3
🌙 <3
☀️ <3
🎩 <3
🫧 <3
🌸 <3
🌱 <3
🦋 <3
🫥 <3
and my amazing mooties!!
@hyewka Rana <33
@fairyofshampgyu Nia <33
@bobabeomii Kyu <33
@napofamoon Moon <33
@cherrypeaking Cherry <33
@1004tyun Crystal <33
@guleh Leah <33
@berrysansworld San <33
@h3arts4hu3ning Soobin <33
@strawberry-kirby Kirby <33
@beomsl Mel <33
@ixayjun Ixa <33
@majestyjun Millie <33
@huen-ingkai Sun <33
@aistarz Ai <33
@huckleberrykai Berry <33
@gyuthmics Mj <33
@sunshinecherry Sunni <33
@soobsistotesadorbs Mimi <33
@miyseung Mallow <33
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silvercap-art · 1 year ago
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Final voyage of the H.M.S. Arklay
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navxry · 1 year ago
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Sometimes I look back at what tf is happening with my mutuals and I'm just "yeah, thank God I'm too busy strangling IDV for Ada's outfit"
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wallpapers4screen · 2 months ago
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rhk111sblog · 1 year ago
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Here are the Pictures and Videos I took of the Scale Models of the upcoming Assets of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), the BrahMos Missile System of the Philippine Marine Corps (PMC) and the Fast Attack Interdiction Craft – Missile (FAIC-M) during the Philippine Fleet Defense Expo (PFDX) 2023
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piffany666 · 5 months ago
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(I've talked about this before but) Bruno and Adelaide don't have the same mother. Bruno's mum is named clementine and ada sees her as a cool young anti
My Clemmy (Gale) refuses to put on a wet suit any time he needs to for work
Its canon that Knight has kissed a woman but not a man before and my boi Eris's reasoning for this was because he did technically have a girlfriend but the only reason for that was because she was the only girl in the area that actually liked him. Any male that Eris had a crush on in the past incidentally hated him. However this girl later came out as a lesbian and Eris came out to her as gay. Neither of them wanted to continue their relationship due to this information so they peaceful parted ways
Femal Cheaters have functioning pennies however Cheaters as a species are very nervous animals and find if very difficult to mate (think of them as the big cat equivalent of a whippet)
Boredom is trying to assassinate me, man.
Tell me stuff about your...uh...fuck uh...your bug, honey, ari, end user, 72, clemmy, knight, dork...
I think that's all the listeners we made armies for?? You can put for all of them or just one or two idrc
Or if you don't have any— uhh..fun facts about animals, go!
@willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @iistxrmyskyii @astralbulldragon13 @kaiamtt @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @fangsshadow @keyaartz @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @tiefling-chaos @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @not-5-rats @itsargyle @ccstiles @puffin-smoke
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inthehouseoffinwe · 2 months ago
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A Meeting in Valinor
Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.
Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)
Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.
Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.
“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”
Elrond’s face slackened.
“It cannot be...”
Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.
“Hello, Ada.”
Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.
“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”
Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.
Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.
“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”
Elrond hugged him again.
“How’s Arwen?”
“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.
“Milady, I-“
Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.
“Mil-“
“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”
The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.
“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”
Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.
“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”
Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”
Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.
“Well this should be interesting.”
“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”
“Is that so?”
Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.
“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”
Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.
“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”
Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.
“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”
Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.
“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“
Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.
“I do not know if I can.”
A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.
“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”
The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.
“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”
A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.
Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.
“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”
“Wise advice, no?”
“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”
Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.
“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.
Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.
“That’s why I’m here.”
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saintsir4n · 2 months ago
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HAPPY WITHOUT ME
where tommy shelby feels jealous.
WARNINGS: slight angst
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1919
TOMMY Shelby was a jealous man.
He had been apart from his family for four years. Four gruelling years. He had been to war and back, literally. He had seen things that he could never forget and lost people he had thought he would forever know. And the only thing that kept him going was his family. His Aunt Pol, his sister Ada, his little brother Finn. Other extended members like Isaiah, even fucking Dorothy Martin and her annoying quips. But most of all, between the fighting and the battling beside Arthur and John, his fiancé's wife and child was what pulled him out of the mud.
So when they returned from the Great War, with half brains and half minds, Tommy knew he had to keep pushing. Retake the family business and pull them all up to the highest of places.
Seeing what’s changed in Eden was a shock at first. She was more sure of herself. She wasn’t a nurse anymore. But one of the accountants at the bookies. She could shoot a gun, unlike the last time he had been beside her. And much to his chagrin, she earned more attention than he would have liked.
His Eden was a looker. But he made sure that anyone who leered for too long knew they would be cut a smile each.
“Tom, calm the fuck down,” Eden rolled her eyes, “It’s just lunch. Ada will be there. Little ‘Nara is off with my mum. Finn and Isaiah are off doin’ god knows what.”
“I am calm,” Tommy said gruffly, leaning against their bedroom door, watching his wife fix her earrings whilst looking at her reflection. “Perfectly fuckin’ calm.”
“Tell that to your bloody jaw,” she scoffed.
Tommy dismissed her retort, just as she stood up from the stall she used. The navy blue dress she wore flowed down to her calves. It was bad enough that she wore the hell out of the dress but it was his favourite colour.
“You’re wearin’ that?” He gestured when she turned around.
“A dress? Yes, Tommy. I’m wearin’ a dress.” She flattened it out with her hands, huffing when he blinked at her. “I love you but fuckin’ hell your jealousy is somethin’ I haven’t missed.”
Tommy’s brow arched up, “You sure about that?”
The distance between them had closed with his long strides, making her suck in a deep breath.
“Maybe not.” Eden muttered, “It’s only lunch and then I’ll be back beside you. Steerin’ the ship that is our future.”
His arms had reached out and found her waist, tugging her closer, “Fuck steerin’. We’ll be dragging this lot with us.”
“Whether they like it or not? Why am I not surprised with you.” She snaked an arm around her shoulder, teasingly stroking his bare neck. “Calm down. I’ve been to lunch with Ada plenty of times when you were away.”
“But I’m back now,” he stated firmly, senselessly tightening his grip.
Her amusement faltered, “And what, my freedom goes away?”
“No. I didn’t mean that,” he sighed when she shrugged him off.
“I’ll be safe alright? You trust me?” She asked, frowning at his previous insinuation.
“You’re one of the few people I trust,” Tommy said, running a hand through his hair.
“Good.” She moved away to grab her bag, “Now I’ll see you later.” She could feel him watching as she walked passed, and so she threw a grin at him as she said, “I’ll make sure my other husband drops us off on the way to the betting shop.”
Tommy warned, “Watch it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
—-
Requested by @jbrownta
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sad-emo-dip-dye · 8 months ago
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Kunisig is so cute and funny to me cause they would run the Ada like the damn navy their shit would be so efficient
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calocera · 7 months ago
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felt the desire to design my own version of star trek crew quarters, imo the layout of officer quarters they have shown throughout different shows always makes me mad because they are weirdly designed. I don’t understand how the federation allocates ship space because the crew are always jammed in cots or hallways or some other shitty navy-style arrangement; the ships are huge, why wouldn’t their crew (even ensigns and such) have slightly more habitable rooms? Also the fact that in some shows like LWD people can get their own rooms at ranks as low as lieutenant junior, which feels wrong in the opposite way.
Anyways I wanted to design my own hypothetical junior officer quarters that are more than what we have seen. Most officers are on ships for years at a time, so I think the rooms should be at least a little homey.
I know it’s a ship it needs to conserve space yadda yadda so I made a 4 person room and an 8 person room, i’d say it’s like a college dorm vs a summer camp dorm, but it’s better than what has been shown in a lot of star trek imo. Some features include sinks and bathrooms (iirc we never have private bathrooms shown for non-senior officers), extra storage space including lockers and under-bed space (these people are on these ships for years, what if they have stuff?), I tried to adhere to modern ADA minimums for things like bed sizes and bathroom sizes, but it’s tricky since trek doors are automatic and sliding, which isn’t really something i could figure out how to factor into some measurements. Also included a basic replicator, idk if it’s ever stated just how inefficient something like personal replicators for crew would be, but basic replicators for water and nutrition bars + using them for trash just makes sense to me rather than restricting them to the mess halls and senior staff.
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banggyu0308 · 2 years ago
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☕️ Dear Reader,
(this isn't one of those reblog things. This is a real letter, from me to you, to hopefully get to know me better)
Alright, so.
I started writing on Tumblr because I was horny and wanted to start writing smut again. I never realized I'd have almost 300 followers within 3 weeks of making an account, and I never dreamed of having such supportive followers.
If you hadn't noticed, whenever i get praised for my writing I tend to keyboard smash and go 'THANK YOU WJBDEHJR T-T'.
This is because I struggle with comparing myself to other people and worrying I'm not good enough. I'm a major perfectionist, I'm very insecure, and I have been diagnosed with severe anxiety. Which tends to make my insecurity spiral out of control after something sets it off...
Which makes me not want to write, because I'm comparing myself to someone in my head (most of the time it's not even a real person). I go 'this is too repetitive, it's not even original, why do i bother.'
BUTTT!!
Getting everyone's feedback makes me really, really, really happy. I love you all so much <3
Ending on a positive note, I hope I can continue to satisfy all of your desires in the future.
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mrsalwayswrite · 4 months ago
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What Words Can't Say - Chapter 5
a/n: hope the length makes up for the wait.
Warnings: swearing, unwanted physical contact, mild violence, Gale is a teddy bear
Words: 10k
Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
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July 1943
Dusk painted the sky in colorful hues when the mechanics finally packed away their tools. Tonight, the small crew decided to go out to the local pub to celebrate Simon's birthday, and everyone was eager to get started. The consensus was the guys would come collect Abby from her hut once they were cleaned up and ready to go. 
Abby would never admit out loud how fast she ran to her hut so she would have even a smidgen more of time. She raced the clock to take the fastest shower of her life and even then she could still feel stubborn spots of oil and grease on her. With the lack of time, she was forced to towel dry her hair as best as she could and then let it fall naturally down her back, so her straight brunette locks ended just past her shoulder blades. She giggled at the mental image of the shocked faces of some of the nurses who painstakingly and religiously used curlers in their hair. 
Slipping into the only dress she brought to England with her, a fond smile arose with the memories attached to the dress. It was a simple navy blue dress with white polka dots all over, the hem dancing about her knees. Her Aunt Hassel gifted the handmade dress to Abby when she arrived to live with them. The first of many gifts and ways that her aunt and uncle showed they were happy she moved in with them. A decision she would never regret. 
Lastly, Abby swiped on Ada's Victory Red lipstick she left on her nightstand, thinking Ada would not mind. More likely, Ada would fuss and want to help her get ready. All the other nurses were off at the Club or doing their assigned rounds, so Abby had the hut to herself. A rarity but especially helpful tonight when she did not want to answer any questions about why she was dressing up. 
Steeling herself, she took a glance in Ada's small compact and fought the immediate urge to wipe the lipstick off and crawl into bed, claiming illness. Warring thoughts and voices buzzed like bees inside her mind. Their sting, an almost palpable thing, as she fought to control her breathing. She could do this. There was no one she was dressing up for, just herself. This was supposed to be fun. It would be fun. No one was going to berate her. She trusted the men she was with. She had promised Ken she would go. 
Despite her own mental encouragement, she knew it would be so easy to crawl into bed. To hide the dress in the bottom of her footlocker again. To erase the lipstick. To tie her hair back up. To return to the feeling of safety. She could do it…
Before she surrendered to the urge, she stalked out of the hut with her black Mary Janes clicking on the hard floor. 
Dusk transformed into darkness by the time she stepped out. Taking several deep breaths, she stared up at the stars as if silently seeking strength. The cool night air slid around her legs, only protected by the nylons she wore. She relished the shiver it shot through her, displacing the heat generated from her turbulent mind and insecurities. 
Luckily the rest of the mechanics came around the corner only a couple minutes after she stepped out. 
“Did you dress up for me, love?” Simon teased, after a long whistle. 
“Only because it's your birthday.” 
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Ken slung an arm around her shoulders, smelling much better than he did previously, as they followed the rest of the crew. “You look nice.”
“Nice?” Winks snorted from Ken's other side. He peeked over at her through the gloom. “Abby looks beautiful.”
“Thanks, John.” She smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks from all the attention. 
Conversations ebbed and flowed amongst their small group as they made the walk through the airbase and onward to the village. A renewed liveliness danced around them, the laughter and teasing increased the further they walked from base. As if a heavy cloak was dropped at the gate leading onto the base and now they could celebrate unimpeded. A warmth filled Abby as she watched and listened to the men around her. This was what they all needed, a temporary release from the weight of their work and all it entailed. A reminder that they were all still young and alive. 
Well, most of the crew. 
Simon was the oldest, turning twenty-eight today. When he signed up, he initially wanted to be a P-51 pilot but as he progressed in the training, decided he liked working on the planes more than flying them and was transferred to ground crew. He left a wife and toddler back home in Michigan. However much he joked that he joined the war effort to get a break from the wife and toddler, no one commented on the way he carried a photo of them in his pocket at all times. 
John “Winks” Herrmann was from Connecticut and Ken's best friend. He was a sweet guy that felt like an honorary ‘Lemmons’ with how quickly Ken and his friendship blossomed into a brotherhood. He hardly ever said a negative word about anybody and was always willing to help out. He was a bit naive in certain ways but mostly because he was young and this was his first time away from home. 
The rest of their group contained: Allen “Al” Hendricks from Missouri, Cricket Cox from Alabama, Paul Wilson from New Hampshire and Lincoln “Dog-Face” Miller from Montana. 
Without any outside light due to the blackout, it was hard to truly tell what the pub looked like. From what she could tell, it reminded Abby of the stereotypical English pub - small and quaint and lively. The only problem was a lot more noise drifted from behind the door as they walked up to it than she expected. 
“I thought you said no one would be here.” Abby quietly asked Ken. 
“Maybe it's locals?”
But something in her gut told her that was not the case, and when they opened the door, light and noise spilling out to encase them and drag them into its confines, like a spider into its web…Abby knew she had made a mistake. 
A handful of locals were scattered throughout the pub, some old men talking and grumbling and several young women either on the dance floor or drinking with the soldiers, but the pub was swarmed with uniforms boasting those of the 100th Bomb Group and RAF. 
As if sensing her urge to abandon the night, Ken snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He put his mouth close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “It's fine. We'll find somewhere in the back.” 
She nodded mutely. 
Al found a table off to the side, snagging it as the locals headed out, most likely wanting to retain the use of their hearing due to the sheer volume echoing in the place. Abby found herself sandwiched between Ken and Simon in mismatched chairs, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt she could breathe again. She was surrounded by people she trusted and they were out of the main view of people. Not that she was hiding, per se, but she was not here to show off. 
Lincoln and Al came back with the first round of beers and whiskey, and without a second thought, she took a generous swallow of the whiskey placed in front of her, hoping the alcohol would settle her nerves. She wanted to enjoy her time out, she really did. So she resolved to ignore those around them and try to focus on the men at her table. 
She could do this…
*****
“So there I was naked, and hidin’ in the hay pile, prayin’ to God ‘imself that her daddy couldn't see me.” Al told his story, much to the amusement of those around the table. “I waited about two damn hours for the man to leave. I swear, he was like a coon-dog, tryin’ to find me. Well, that damn hay is itchin’ me somethin’ terrible but I don't dare move, right? Who knows if he could see the hay shiftin’?”
“You said it was night. I doubt he'd see you.” Paul countered, leaning back in his chair, as he twirled a screwdriver around his fingers. He never went anywhere without some sort of tool on his person, claiming you never knew when something needed to be fixed. Abby thought it had more to do with superstitions but kept that to herself. 
Al ran a hand down his face. “I was seventeen! And terrified! That man could make even the devil himself shit his pants.”
“What were you doing messing with his daughter then?” Simon countered, ever the voice of wisdom.
“Swear to God, she's the prettiest thing you'll ever see! Even puts Rita Hayworth to shame!” Al placed a hand over his heart, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. 
“No!” 
“I don't believe you!”
“Don't you blaspheme about Rita!”
“Fine, fine.” Al smirked, leaning forward as if to share a secret with his companions. “She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen and said I could touch them. What dumbass would say no? Not me.”
“There it is!” Simon laughed. 
Abby giggled, playing with a strand of her hair. She was feeling good. Two whiskeys sloshed in her system while she nursed her first beer of the night sitting before her. She was not drunk, she knew that feeling and did not like it, but gloriously tipsy and everything felt light and easy and she wanted to revel in the feeling. Laughter spilled from her lips and she could not remember the last time she had so much fun. 
“So, what happened? Did he catch you?” Ken asked from beside her, a flush on his cheeks betraying his own intoxication. 
Al wagged a thick finger. “No. No. The bastard didn't catch me that day. No. It was worse.” He leaned forward again, a forearm on the table and tapping his finger on the table to punctuate his words. “No, turns out I'm allergic to hay. Who knew? Broke out in goddamn hives that lasted for days. It was awful! Don't laugh at me!” 
But the group laughed anyway at the turn of events in the story. With the embarrassing and hilarious stories being shared, all focused on their group, it felt like they were in a world of their own. The talking and laughter of the others in the pub was only white noise, drifting in and out with the music playing. 
“Alright, whose turn for the next round? Huh?” Paul asked, scratching his thin black beard.  
“I'll go.” Abby said, pushing back her chair to stand up. A wave of vertigo smacked into her and she gripped onto Ken's shoulder to steady herself. 
“You good?” Ken questioned. 
With a smile on her face, she shook her head, dislodging the strange sensation. “Yeah, just been sitting too long, that's all.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, causing him to smack her hand away with a grimace and whine like when they were younger. 
“I'll come with you.” Lincoln said, his thick jowls and thin lips highlighted by the lights. “Gotta step outside for a minute anyway.” 
A new conversation started up around the table as the two skirted away and methodically weaved through those filling the small pub. Abby appreciated Lincoln leading the way, his wide shoulders and thick frame cleared an easy path for her to follow. 
She felt like a fairy, moving around the dancing crowd and seeing the twinkling lights. With a stupid giggle, she spun in a circle, making her dress fan out around her knees. Unfortunately, she bumped into a soldier, but before he could say anything, Lincoln grabbed her hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bar counter. 
She leaned against the wooden counter, sticky form spilled alcohol and decorated with dents and circle stains from years of use. “Sorry.” She giggled again, tipping her head back to look at the much taller man. “I haven't walked in heels in some time.” At least, she thought it was the Mary Janes that caused her to momentarily lose her balance. 
“It's fine.” He smiled down at her, something indiscernible in his dark eyes. 
She blinked for a long moment, wondering if she was missing something. Why was he still smiling at her? Unsure, she went to brush her hair behind her ear and realized his hand was still in hers. 
Oh. 
“Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry. I just–” 
He chuckled as he pulled back his hand. “It's fine, Abby.” He glanced towards the door and then shuffled from foot to foot next to her. “Is it– I mean, I can stay–”
“Go.” She awkwardly pushed his shoulder, probably looking like a kitten bothering a German Shepherd. “I'll wait for you here.”
“Oh-okay. I won't be long.” He waited for a moment as if she would change her mind, but after she pushed him once again, he quickly stepped out of the pub. 
Turning her back towards the pub, she idly traced the circle stains on the wood. The bartender was helping a group of patrons further down and she did not mind waiting. 
Her thoughts drifted towards her departed companion. She disliked the nickname ‘Dog-Face’ for Lincoln but unfortunately it held merit. He was incredibly kind and humble but his countenance resembled that of a bulldog. To his credit, Lincoln rolled with the nickname. He was a good mechanic and a good friend. Ken had confessed to her early on that Lincoln had a crush on her, although he had never acted upon it and she had never witnessed it herself. She figured it was just boy gossip and Ken trying to tease her. 
As she glanced down the bar counter again, her attention was caught by Captain Dye and Lil, the two coyly flirting with one other. She had met Lil once when traveling into the village to pick up something from the small, local store they had. Abby was fairly certain she had heard rumors that Lil and Major Egan were seen together. The nurses had plenty of thoughts about Lil and some of the other local women, but maybe that was just rumors? 
“I dare say, it's quite a shame to see a beautiful woman standing alone at a bar. A true disgrace.”
Abby turned back, a wave of surprise coursing through her and dissipating some of the clouds in her brain, as she noted the man standing quite close to her. Upon hearing his British accent and seeing the uniform he wore, her mind quickly put together that he must be RAF. 
“Who said I'm alone?” 
He was handsome enough, she guessed. The slicked-back dark hair, the mustache and the cocky grin he wore most likely made many women swoon. But it was the way his gaze appraised her, like he knew he had already caught her without even having to try…that immediately erected her walls and sobered her further. 
He made a show of looking around her. “I do not see anyone or am I mistaken?”
“I'm just getting the next round for the group I came with.”
“Ah.” His grin widened and with a half step, crowded her against the counter. “I'm positive they won't mind waiting a little longer as we get to know each other.”
“No, thank you.” 
“No? May I at least have the honor of knowing your name, love?”
“I don't think that's necessary right now.” She hissed, one of her hands against his chest to keep him from moving closer. 
“I promise to be a perfect gentleman. What do you say, love?”
Yet his actions sang their own tune. 
While he spoke, his hand hovered on her lower back, an unwanted weight to pin her in place. She almost missed his last statement, a final plea for her attention because his hand crossed into turbulent waters and unknowingly released a storm. 
His back faced outward, a shield, a barrier, from the eyes of those in the pub. An illusion of privacy. For residing in that illusion, his hands chose to wander. The left was firmly placed on her lower back, while the right gripped the fabric of her dress covering her thigh. 
“Care to dance?” He breathed into her ear, alcohol wafting like a fog over her face. His hand though, slippery as eel, slipped under the hem of her dress and slid up her inner thigh.
“Get your hands off me.” She quietly snarled, grabbing his hand to cease its further exploration. 
She could feel his sigh against her cheek, that hot exhale of breath. More importantly, she felt his hand on her lower back drift downward…and she saw red. 
On instinct, she stomped the heel of her Mary Jane into the top of his leather shoe, and used her hand still against his chest to shove him hard. 
He hissed, teetering for a moment but catching his balance with a hand on the countertop. 
Slowly, she turned to face him after brushing the hem of her dress back into place, warily watching him for retaliation. She would rather not make a scene but if he came at her again, she had no problem with showing him her infamous right hook. 
Thankfully, he had a few brain cells that still worked. Anger burned in his eyes but he kept his lips closed. His gaze scanned over her with unrestrained disgust. With a shake of his head and a snort, he turned and walked away without a word. 
Her heart raced like an engine being pressed to the max. Placing her elbows on the counter she covered her eyes with her hands and she focused on steadying her breathing. An alcohol-induced fog skittered at the edges of her brain, shoved away by the ugly encounter but easing back in to soften her heightened emotions. 
A minute later, the barman finally made his way to her, apologies pouring off his tongue. She ordered and waited as he filled the new glasses, hoping she appeared confident. The encounter with the RAF pilot had left her shaken. She knew logically she was unhurt and had handled the situation as best as she could. Yet her gaze darted around, perceptions high to make sure no one else snuck up on her. Her hand repeatedly brushed at the thigh that he touched as if she could wipe away his stain on her skin. 
Lincoln reappeared as the barman loaded up the drinks onto a tray. Before he could move the tray to their table, Abby snatched one of the glasses of whiskey and tossed it back. She hissed, eyes smarting as the liquor burned down her throat. Leaving the empty glass on the counter, she led the way this time back to their table, purposefully ignoring Lincoln's quizzical glances at her. 
Back with the group, she tried to embrace the same lightness as before, that feeling of being wholly relaxed and having fun. The shot of whiskey and being back with the mechanics alleviated some of her jitters but she could not entirely erase the twitching nerves or how her gaze frequently swept the pub for that RAF pilot. A vine of resentment twisted around her heart for that pilot, how he ruined her freedom for his own amusement. It was a painful reminder that no matter where she was, she always had to be on guard. 
After she finally finished her warm beer, the clouds were back in her mind and her nerves had dissipated somewhat. At this point, sleep called to her as if from a distance and she was ready to beckon its approach. 
“Ken–” She said in a hush, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm behind her back. 
“Yeah, me too.” Her cousin replied quietly. “Ready?”
At her nod, the two carefully got up. Ken spoke to those at the table. “I'm going to take Abby back. I'll see you fellas in the morning.”
The chorus of farewells echoed from those remaining. The two mechanics meandered through the crowded pub, dodging the patrons both drunk and mildly sober. Ken led the way, cutting through like a schooner through the waves. With all of her attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not being knocked into, she barely noted when Ken took a detour away from the door, her feet faithfully following him. 
“Kenny!” 
“Hey ya, Ken!” 
The familiar cheers for her cousin erupted from the large table in front of them. She briefly wondered how he knew the majors were sitting over here, tucked away in the corner like they had been. The question flitted away from her mind almost as quickly as it emerged. 
“Hey fellas. Just poppin’ over to wish you a good night.” Ken explained, unnecessarily waving like a kid on a playground. 
Abby attempted to cover a giggle with her hand, hiding behind her cousin's back. Was he drunk? He appeared steady enough standing there. She decided to poke his back to make sure. 
“No! Sit down!”
“Yeah, join us! Where's that extra chair?”
“It's here! Sit down!”
Ken shrugged his shoulders, swatting away her hand like a fly. “That's ‘right. Thank you though.”
He did not tip so Abby concluded he was not drunk but she decided to poke him again for good measure. 
“Ouch!” Ken squirmed, turning around to grab her hands to prevent any more pokes. Mischief danced along her veins, so she stuck her tongue out at him. 
“Hey, who's that with ya?” 
By this point, Abby was feeling all three glasses of the whiskey flowing through her veins and the beer she had been sipping on. She would be the first to admit she was a lightweight, not drinking often did that to a person. Plus with her slimmer stature, alcohol raced through her faster than a fart through a fan. 
Hearing Biddick's voice, she shifted to the side to look around Ken. Directly in front of her at the large wooden table was seated someone from the 100th she recognized but could not figure out his name but thought he was a navigator. Beside him was Major Veal, then Major Egan, Major Cleven, Lieutenant Biddick and Major Kidd, while across from them sat three other men in uniforms but she could not see their faces easily. 
“Hey, boys.” She smiled at the familiar officers. That very smile lighting up her face at the looks of momentary shock crossing the faces of the men she knew. 
“Holy shit! Slugger, is that you?” Egan almost spit out his drink, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. 
Biddick let out a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Abby!” 
“Alright, you're going to embarrass her.” Ken waved off any more rowdy compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.  
“Now you gotta sit with us!” Egan demanded. “Hey, Bubbles, go tell Croz to get something for Kenny and Sluggar here!” 
“Yes, sir.” The man she couldn't put a name with -apparently Bubbles- got up next to them and held out his chair. “You can have my seat. I'll sit on the other side with Croz.”
“Thanks, Bubbles.” Ken said. He bumped her with his hip, directing her towards the vacated seat while he slid into the empty chair between Bubbles’ chair and the unknown men. 
Once she finally seated between Veal and Ken, she was finally able to discern the faces of the other men at the table. All three were clearly RAF, but when she locked eyes with the one in the middle, seeing the familiar sleazy smirk on his face and his rakish gaze, she wondered if she might end up resorting to violence tonight after all. 
“What are you doing here? I thought you never left the hardstands.” Veal teased Ken. 
“Just out celebrating, sir. We're not allowed to have whiskey at the hut or hardstands.”
“That sounds terrible.” Egan dramatically lamented, then leaned forward and pointed a finger at Ken. “We should fix that! Can't have good work go without rewards!” 
“No, Bucky.” Kidd glared.
“Come on, Jack!”
Abby smiled at the one sided argument Egan was trying to put up. Her gaze slid around the table to land on Gale, and to her shock, locked on her already were his baby blue eyes. Once their eyes connected, the corner of his mouth lifted and he sent a cheeky wink her way. A giggle bubbled up within her, spilling out even as she tried to suppress it with her hand. The sound seemed to unlock something within him for a genuine smile rolled across his face, eyes softening as he continued to stare at her. 
Seemingly continuing an interrupted conversation, the RAF pilot in the middle began speaking, throwing a proverbial wet blanket over the jovial group. “I admire you Americans, you're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.”
“I…I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.” Kidd slowly said. 
“Nevermind, old boy. It's one for the higher ups.”
“It's a question of philosophies.” The RAF on the left continued the train of thought of his comrade, not even trying to hide his patronizing tone. “We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit as long as it's German. Bombing during the day is suicide. I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer. Maths.”
Abby squinted her eyes at the Brits, wondering what kind of churlish conversation took place prior to Ken and her arrival. Even with her sluggish thoughts, she could feel the strife floating in the air like a cheap perfume. 
Egan inhaled sharply, gaze narrowed at the men across the table from him. “Maths?”
“I mean, maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.” Biddick snarked. 
“And why the hell do you Brits add an ‘s’ to the end of math?” 
The cocky RAF smirked, slowing his tone like he was talking to a child. “Because there's more than one of them.”
Biddick mocked. “There's more than one of them.”
“I can see more than one of you too.” Egan raised his hand, seemingly illustrating his point. “I could knock all of you out.” Veal smacked his hand down but the major kept going. “Probably in one punch. In one punch.”
Thankfully, the arrival of alcohol distracted from the rising violence. 
“This outta wet your whistles, boys!” Crosby announced carrying a tray of drinks over. 
The drinks were quickly passed around, slid along the tabletop or handed to its owner. Abby noted how Crosby specifically handed Gale his ginger beer, a hint of reverence in his action. Yet Gale never took his gaze off the RAF pilots, accepting the drink without looking at the apparent admirer behind him. 
“Here ya go.” Bubbles’ voice snagged Abby's attention away as he placed a whiskey in front of Abby and one for Ken. “I wasn't sure what you wanted.”
“Thank you.” She murmured to the soft spoken man. 
He nodded, then retreated to the opposite side of the table. She witnessed them elbowing each other out of the way and being a nuisance to one another as they settled in their seats. 
“Ken…”
Her cousin looked down at her, “hmmm?”
“We need to go.”
“Hold on, another minute.” His attention turning back to the Brits, sucked into the turbulent conversation. 
With a sigh, she leaned her head on Ken's shoulder. Without looking, he twitched his shoulder, making her head move. Giggling, she smacked his arm but laid her head against him again. She could feel him scoot closer and settle his arm against the back of her chair, before taking a sip of his new whiskey.  
“How about a song?” The youngest of the RAF eagerly changed the subject, directing his particular question to Egan. “I hear you sing, Major.”
Those that knew the major either cheered or grimaced, depending on their opinions of John Egan's vocal talents. 
“Pick one. What's your favorite?” The young Brit encouraged. 
Egan grinned like he had won some kind of award. “Good idea!” Even though many around the table loudly disagreed with this assumption. 
To her hazy recollection Abby had never heard Major Egan sing, she almost opened her mouth to add encouragement when Biddick broke through the ruckus of voices. 
“Hey! You want to get Major excited? Baseball!” 
Egan pointed a finger at Biddick. “Specifically Yankees.” He clarified because apparently the distinction was important. His attention slid to his best friend by his side, a silly grin steadily growing as he gazed at him. “Oh my buddy, Buck, here, he thinks they're a waste of time, don't you?” 
Leaning forward to slip into Gale's space, Biddick added. “It's not just sports he doesn't follow. I mean, you don't follow anyone, do you?”
Gale nodded, allowing a pregnant pause as he bit into a toothpick before casually stating, “I follow you, Curt.” 
“And he would still find a way to show off!” Biddick chuckled, further leaning over Gale, now invested in this strange conversation. “For example, you remember Walla Walla. We had a visit from wing Cleven here, slow-timing Hollenbeck's engines. Just so they remembered who he was. He buzzed the Tower, all engines feathered. I–”
“No. Three, three engines–” Major Veal interrupted, holding up three fingers. “He still had one.”
Bubbles agreed. “I remember he called you ‘One Engine Cleven’.”
Biddick hushed the interruption. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm– I'm telling the story here, All right? It's my story. It's four engines. Next thing I see this fort sailing twenty-five feet over the runway. Yeah,” Biddick clicked his tongue, giving a dramatic pause, “silent as the grave.”
“Beautiful.” 
“Hmm.”
“Wanted to do that all my life.” Egan murmured, smiling at Gale. 
Those around the table collectively laughed or agreed, a comradery between those of the 100th and their experiences together. Gale shook his head, a hint of color on his cheeks from the attention. 
A barely heard laugh escaped Abby's lips as she watched Egan squeeze Gale's cheeks, further embarrassing the man. 
Kidd raised his whiskey. “I'll drink to that. No Engine Cleven.”
“No Engine Cleven. Here we go. Hear hear!” Those of the 100th tapped their drinks together, too caught up in their own merriment to see the side-eyes and mocking looks by the RAF pilots.  “And here's to Ken and Sluggar for being there to fix us up after!”
With the attention of them, Abby raised her head and grabbed her drink. After clinking her glass against those within reach, she took a sip and licked her lips. She stared at the amber liquid, wondering if she should be worried that it no longer burned when traveling down her throat. Maybe her body was used to it by now? For experimental reasons, she sipped again. What warmth filled her belly was dashed with an icy blast as her gaze locked with the RAF pilot-Byron she thought she heard his companion say. He raised his own glass to her, a mock salute, before taking a sip. Meanwhile his rakish gaze never left her. With a repressed shudder, she looked away and tossed the rest of her whiskey back. She could feel his hands on her again, even if it was only in her mind. 
As if summoned, her hazel eyes connected to the baby blues of Gale's. A slight furrow between his brows betrayed his relaxed posture. She saw his gaze shift to look at the Brits and then back at her. A question there but one she did not want to answer. Even if she tried, the words tangled on her tongue in knots. She leaned her head back against Ken's shoulder, lazily watching the lights around them. 
When Byron spoke up again, Abby wondered if the idiot liked confrontation, especially with his haunty, arrogant tone. “Would you have rather been a fighter pilot, major?” 
Egan snapped, clearly hearing the Brit's tone also. “Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”
“And so are you, Bucky.” Bubbles added. 
Egan shook Bubbles’ hand. “And so are you.”
“So, let me get this straight.” The visibly confused younger RAF leaned forward, pointing a finger between the two majors across from him. “You're Buck and he's Bucky?”
“Yeah.”
“Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?” Byron asked, causing laughter between himself and his two companions. 
Yet Egan's response instantly sobered the group, reminding everyone of the truth of war. 
“No. Just a shortage of crews.”
Bryon stated. “Hmm. Pity.”
Egan nodded along, head bouncing in a way that hinted at his lack of sobriety. “Pity. Pity. Yeah. Pity, pity, pity. What?”
“I said it's a pity.” The RAF explained. “You'd have more if you flew your missions at night.”
The underlying tension returned like a heavy cloud just above their heads. 
Abby watched, shocked the Brit would bring the topic back up again. When his gaze darted her way, everything clicked in her mind. Confrontation. The bastard liked the tension and arguments. She had hurt his ego or something else equally foolish and now he needed to feel…something. Her brain could not even fathom what at this point. Her hazy thoughts darted away like minnows in a pond, back and forth, but there was one she finally scooped up. Without a second thought to the legitimacy of it, she poured it out onto the table. 
“Ohhh I get it.” She sat up and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing to see past the fog in her mind. “You're just taking the piss outta them cause you're mad I wouldn't let you stick your hand up my dress.”
Byron barely looked her way as he sneered. “With the way you've portrayed yourself, it's clear you have a deficient lack of taste and standards.”
What tension hung over the table immediately redoubled at the scathing remark. What once had been a brewing storm cloud now transformed into a hurricane. 
“Sonofabitch.” Ken muttered, starting to rise from his chair. 
Abby narrowed her eyes and glared at the smug bastard. Yet in the back of her mind, the stinging thoughts from earlier hovered, as if the Brit's comment had unknowingly opened the door for their return. Stinging thoughts of inadequacy, of never being good enough…
To her surprise, Major Egan was the first to speak, breaking the shocked silence. “Why'd you have to go and say something like that? Especially about Slugger.” 
“Well, perhaps I was getting bored of all the heavy petting going on at your end of the table.”
Egan squinted his eyes. “I don't even know what that means. What's that mean?”
Veal echoed beside him. “What does that mean?”
The two men continued to question, seemingly conversing with only each other as everyone else remained silent.  
“What's that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“What's that mean?”  Egan finally turned back to the Brits, a hard glint in his eyes. 
Byron grinned, as if enjoying every moment of this. “Let's make a bit of sport ourselves. How about it? For the lady's honor.”
To Abby's further surprise, Gale was the first to reply, eyes like steel as he stared down the RAF pilot. “I think that's an excellent idea.”
Biddick's quiet, “Oh, here we go,” was lost as Egan started to stand only to be roughly shoved back into his seat by Gale. 
“Abby.” Ken got her attention, his own focus jumping between the Brits and herself. She could clearly see his want to protect her honor himself but also his concern for her wellbeing. “We can leave if you want…you-we don't have to watch.”
“No…no. I want to.”
“Okay.”
The two mechanics followed the crowd spilling out onto the dark street in front of the pub, only the full moon and stars illuminating them. Somehow word about the fight must have circulated since more members of the 100th emerged from the pub, drinks in hand and drunken cheers on their lips. 
“What does RAF mean?” Biddick called out as he finally stepped outside. 
“Riffraff.” Someone answered, much to the other's amusement. 
Abby was mildly stunned when she saw Biddick taking his jacket off and shaking his arms out. She thought Gale was the one to pick up the verbal gauntlet but she must have missed something. Perhaps he only meant he thought a fight was a good idea, not that he would be throwing the punches. From what gossip she heard, Gale was not much of a fighter, typically having to break up fights instead. But she could have sworn there was something in his eyes when he voiced his agreement….
Not that it mattered now. 
Her feet guided her to the edge of the impromptu boxing ring. A part of her envied Biddick, the foolish wish to trade places with him so she could defend her own honor and punch the asshole. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to remain on for sidelines. However wonderful the retribution would feel, she could not risk the discipline. Not again. 
“You alright there, Abby?”
Caught up in her own swirling thoughts and wishes, she had not realized she placed herself between her cousin and Gale, the major standing within arm's reach. She glanced at him, noting his gaze focused on her. Warmth flooded her cheeks that was certainly a delayed reaction to all the alcohol she consumed. “I'm fine.” 
Before Gale could comment or refute her statement, Egan slung an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “Now why does this sport interest you?”
“Boxing?”
“Mm-mmm.”
Gale fiddled with the toothpick still in his mouth. “Test of manhood.”
“That so?”
“About as true a measure of your will to fight as any, and it's man-to-man.”
“Oh, so you just don't like team sports? How'd you end up commander of a plane leading a squadron in a war, where you don't want to be on the losing side, and still not like team sports?” Bucky nudged Gale's cheek with his fist. 
“I just don't lose sleep over whether the pinstripes beat the polka dots.”
Abby giggled to herself at Gale's response. 
Egan sighed, clearly not as amused at his best friend's humor. “Right. Well, we're all just uniforms anyway. You know that?”
Gale did not reply, his attention focused as the boxing ring solidified. Spectators, made up almost entirely of 100th Bomb Group, stood in a circle exchanging bets or holding onto their pints as they drunkenly cheered Biddick on. 
Cracking his knuckles, Byron stepped forward but instead of looking at his opponent, his gaze landed on Abby. She stilled under his brazen gaze, shocked by the audacity of him. 
“Hey, Curt!” She called out, holding the Brit's gaze. 
“Yeah, Abby?”
“Kick his ass.”
Biddick barked a laugh. “Yes, ma'am!”
If looks could kill, she would have been cremated twice over and that still would not satisfy the RAF pilot. His gaze had turned glacial cold and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sneer. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the company around her and the knowledge that the bastard could not hurt her with so many of the 100th surrounding her. With a shit-eating grin, she continued to hold his gaze until he looked away with a huff and roll of his shoulders. 
“Ya heard the lady, sounds like I've gotta kick your ass!” Biddick taunted, bringing his fists up. 
Byron scoffed. “I'll try not to step on you.” 
Biddick and the RAF pilot began circling each other, sizing one another up while those around threw out jeers of their own. 
“Now, seems like you like to do your fighting at night, Byron.” Biddick taunted. 
The Brit threw a swing that Biddick easily dodged. A few cheers sounded and as the Brit prepared to take another swing, but Biddick made his move. He lashed out with his own well-timed shot, knocking his opponent immediately to the dirty cobblestones.  
“Oof. Must have felt that, right?” Curt gloated, standing above his downed opponent. “Guess who can hit their target at night!”
The other RAF pilots call for space, pushing away spectators and gathering up their unconscious captain.
“How'd I do, dollface?” Biddick asked as he slid over between Egan and Gale, earning pats on the back from those around him. 
“You did good, Biddick.”
He wagged his finger at her. “No, no. You called me ‘Curt’, don't start this again.”
She giggled, despite herself. “Thank you, Curt.”
“As my lady commands.” Curt snagged her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 
She laughed at the comical scene along with those standing around. After he released her hand, Egan lifted the victorious pilot and swung him around to the cheers of the men. 
“Never mess with the Irish!” Curt yelled with his hands up in the air. 
“It's a pity!”
“Oh, what a shame!”
Abby giggled as the merriment wandered down the dark road, with Egan almost dropping Biddick as he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Ken's then leaned her head against his shoulder. By now she could feel the effects of the whiskey further, that loose tipsy feeling now held an strong undercurrent of tiredness. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment as she sighed. 
“This was fun.” She murmured to her cousin. 
But the drawl that answered was most certainly not that of her cousin. “I'm glad you think so.” 
Her eyes snapped open and she wheeled back, stumbling on the cobblestones. Only the fast hands of Gale reaching out to steady her saved her from the embarrassment of falling onto her backside. 
“I'm so sorry…I thought you were Ken.”
“It's alright. Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He slowly released her forearms, as if worried she would slip to the ground without his touch. Which truthfully was not an irrational notion. Hyper aware of her body and how the ground seemed to shift ever so slightly under her feet, she took a cautious step forward and then another, arms held out for balance.  
“I did it!” 
He chuckled, taking the two steps to stand by her. “That's real good, Abby. Can you make it back to base?”
“Ohhh.” She glanced around. “Where's Ken?”
“I'm not certain. I think he left with the group.”
She sighed, eyes still looking around like Ken would pop out of the shadows. “He was next to me I thought…and we were going to walk back together…now I'm here alone.”
“I'll walk you back.” 
“You don't have too, I'm sure you want to walk with your Bucky and the others.”
He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think they left me behind as well.”
She looked around their surroundings, truly realizing that the group was no longer in sight. Actually, no one was in sight. “Oh. Where did they go?” They could not have gotten far in this short of time, she figured, mostly likely hidden by the buildings further up the road.
“I would assume back to base.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”
“Shall we?”
She nodded, happy she would not have to make the trek alone. At this point she was unsure if she would even know where to go. Her thoughts were fuzzy like little caterpillars inching along, without direction or reason. But pretty at least. 
After one last look at the dark exterior of the pub behind them, Abby fell into step beside Gale. A companionable silence drifted around them like the breeze. Her mind wandered with each step, admiring the stars to dodging the potholes to eyeing the landscape on either side of the road they walked. Memories of the time at the pub glided through occasionally, bringing a smile to her face. She hoped they could go out again soon. 
While her mind wandered, her body remained alert to the man beside her; whose hand barely caressed her lower back when she misstepped, whose hand tentatively held her forearm when they maneuvered around a pothole, whose body radiated a warmth that was addicting…
Time was an abstract thought, all that mattered was the current moment…and at the current moment, her feet hurt. With each step she took, it was becoming harder and harder to stay steady. The cobblestones kept gripping onto her Mary Janes like vines trying to wrap around her feet and yank her down. The heels pinched and rubbed along her feet, having been unused for so long, what calluses she once had softened. 
“Ugh.” She stopped, unable to take it any longer. Reaching a hand over to grip Gale's arm and steady herself, she started on the buckles. 
“Are you hurt?” 
She barely heard his question as she mumbled under breath about stupid shoes and uneven roads. Finally, with a triumphant grin, she held up both shoes in her free hand. “Ta da! Now my feet are safe!”
He shook his head. “You'll tear your feet up without shoes on this road.”
She waved away his concern. “It's fine. I did it all the time as a child.”
“Abby–”
Giggling, she hugged his arm against her body and gazed up at him. “Please, Gale? Please?” 
He stared down at her. The surrounding darkness shielding some of their features, masking their expressions. After a long moment, he murmured a quiet ‘shit’ followed by a slightly louder, “alright, Abby.”
She giggled, nuzzling into his arm for a brief moment, closing her eyes to allow her brain to stop suddenly spinning. 
“You alright there?” He softly asked. 
“Hmmm…my head hurts.”
“Yeah? Do you need to go to medical?”
She shook her head, face still pressed against his arm. “Just need to sleep.”
“Alright, let's get you back to base.”
They started walking again, Gale leading the way down the dark road. Her arms still contained his arm, like a ship's mast to cling to during a storm, her head sometimes bumping against his shoulder. Her heels dangled from her hand, tapping against her thigh with each step. 
A soothing warmth rolled off of him in waves, skating across her skin and drawing her in. A small rational part of her screamed that her actions were unbecoming and inappropriate, an echo of her mother from far away. Yet that small voice was drowned out by the alcohol blazing through her veins and the chill of the night air, forcing her body to seek warmth where it could. 
Her hazy mind recalled the pub, the angry pilot and the fight outside. The flickering lights of the inside. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring at her from across the table. Those soft blues burning when he stood up to fight the RAF pilot…
“Thank you.”
“Mmm?”
“For…for standing up for me against that bastard.” Abby explained. “He wasn't nice.”
“Did he hurt you?” 
She stumbled, more from the frostiness of his tone than the actual road, but quickly righted herself. “No, but he finally got the message when I stomped on his foot with my heel.”
She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Sluggar.”
“He was an asshole.”
“Yeah, he was.”
“An assy-asshole. A big one.”
He chuckled quietly.  
They walked further down the road with only the moon and starlight to guide their step and the distant sound of their companions up ahead, talking loudly in the otherwise quiet countryside. 
Abby tripped, pitching forward and almost dragging her companion down with her, if he had not wrapped both arms around her. 
“Why's the road moving?” She giggled, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. “I almost dropped my heels…I like these heels!” 
“Hey, you with me, Abby?” 
She ignored Gale's question as she looked down to the offender beneath her bare feet. “Stop moving! You'll hurt my heels!” 
“Christ…” He sighed. “Hold onto your shoes.”
“Why?”
“I'm gonna carry you.”
She owlishly blinked up at him. “Why?”
“You can't walk.”
“...I can't?”
He snorted while shaking his head, mumbling under his breath but all she caught was something vaguely resembling ‘adorable’, still too caught up in why she could not walk. Which made no sense. Her feet were still on the ground…even if the ground rolled like waves and she was a ship being tossed about.  She had been walking. Why was she not walking now? 
“Climb onto my back.” He commanded, keeping a hold of her hands as he turned to crouch in front of her. 
“I can walk…”
He groaned, tugging on her hands to draw them around his neck. “Darling, you're killin’ me. Climb on.”
“Okay, okay.” She tried to gracefully hug his back, but what grace she possessed disappeared about the same time the road was no longer stationary. A flop more described her accession onto his back. Her mind was vaguely aware that she was in a dress and the inappropriateness of the situation. But it was dark and she was tired…
Once her hands were secure around his neck, heels still dangling from her fingers, he slipped his arms under her legs. With a grunt, he stood. The motion caused Abby to burrow her face against the side of his neck. 
“You alright?” His voice rumbled out of him, soaking into her chest as she was pressed against his back.
“Hmmm…you smell nice. Better than Ken.”
He snorted. “Thank you.”
It was now with her feet exposed to the cool night air she could feel the sting of the air against the bottom of her feet. “My feet hurt again.”
“I figured. You kept stumbling and whimpering. I don't think you realized.”
“Oh. I think…I think I'm a little drunk?”
“Perhaps a little.”
The rocking of Gale's gait was making her stomach roll, so she stuck her forehead against his neck, trying to focus on his warmth and his musky cologne. “I don't know why. I only had a few shots of whiskey.”
“Mmm.”
“You know…I bet you're a good dancer.” She was unsure in the muddied pond of her thoughts where that one came from or why it slipped off her tongue so easily. 
“I don't dance often.”
“Why? That's terrible. I bet you're wonderful.”
He shrugged his shoulders, stride never wavering. “Doesn't appeal to me much, I guess.”
“Well, I'll take you dancing. It'll be fun! Maybe under the stars. They're always so pretty.” 
He hummed after a moment. “Alright.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.”
“Okay!” She squeezed his neck as she giggled. “Don't go dancing without me! It'll be fun! I mean–I guess unless you find someone really pretty who wants to dance. Then it makes sense. But you should dance. You'd be wonderful.”
“I don't think you need to worry about that, darling.” 
“But there's so many pretty nurses on base…and those radio operators! They're all so pretty…and they like to dance.” She tried to make him understand. It truly was silly he did not dance. 
“Yeah, but I'm not interested in any of them.” The words coated in his raspy drawl floated around her head, something in them trying to catch her notice like little beacons. But their lights went out before her muddled brain could understand. 
“That's terrible for them. A lot of them have a crush on you.”
“Mmm.”
“Don't tell Major Egan. He'll be jealous.”
Gale gave a bark of laughter. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She pressed her forehead back against his neck. His warmth and the repetitive feeling of his breathing against her chest was lulling her to sleep. “I love the stars. No matter where you are, they're always beautiful.” The thought rolled off her tongue unprovoked, even as her eyelids drifted shut. 
“Buck?!”
The loud shout startled her from the inviting blanket of sleep wrapping around her. She blinked for a moment but allowed her eyes to close once again, face still against Gale's neck. 
“Yeah, John. It's me.” Gale called back. 
Two sets of footsteps approached, disrupting the quiet English night. 
“Any chance that's Abby with you?” Kidd asked. 
“Yeah, I've got her.”
“Good.” Kidd stated, falling into step with Gale on his left. “Ken was looking for her. I told him I figured she was walking with you, but apparently not walking.”
“She hurt her feet.” Gale explained softly. 
Egan loudly scoffed from Gale's right side.“Uh huh. That's the excuse you're going with?”
“Bucky–” 
“I'm just saying–”
Kidd interrupted, genuine concern in his voice. “Does she need to go to medical?”
“I'm fine, sir.” Abby sleepily slurred, her words muffled since she refused to move her face from its current position. “Can you tell the other one to stop being a damn loud asshat or I'll kick his ass.”
Gale chuckled, the vibrations going through her chest making her almost purr like a cat. If she snuggled closer to him, hoping to prolong the sensation, no one needed to know. 
“Slugger has a mouth on her!” Egan laughed, poking her arm. 
She grunted at the annoying sensation, hoping the major took the wordless reprimand or she would definitely kick his ass. After a nap. 
“Only when drunk it seems.” Gale answered his best friend.
“I'm not drunk…just a little drunk.” She mumbled. 
“My apologies. Just a little.” Gale softly replied, leaning his head against hers for a brief moment. She sighed at the contact, something loosening in her chest at the sensation although she was too drunk to put it into words. 
“Did you see that swing Curt made! I bet even Dimaggio can't swing like that!” Egan exclaimed. With his volume and enthusiasm, Abby might have noticed his own drunken state if she was sober. “I'm surprised you didn't want to take a swing at him yourself, Slugger.”
“ ‘m not allowed.”
Silence hung heavy over the group for several moments as the men tried to process her muffled response. It was Egan who asked the looming question first. 
“Not allowed? What's that mean?”
She sighed, turning her head to face Egan so he could understand her better. “After last time, Huglin told me he'd kick me off the airbase if I hit anyone else. Said it was unbecoming or something.”
The shocked silence lasted for all of three seconds before Egan exploded like a firecracker. 
“That sonofabitch! I knew I disliked him before but…Jesus Christ! Jack, did you know about this?”
“No.”
“I can't believe–” 
“John, he's gone.” Gale spoke up, trying to soothe his friend's righteous temper. “Nothing to do about it now.” 
“Thank God! I can't believe he's would–”
The tirade of Egan became background noise when Gale turned his head slightly towards her. “Abby.” Slowly she turned her face back towards him. A spark shot through her as his lips skimmed her forehead, while his whisper sunk like a seed planted into fruitful soil. “Next time something like this happens, you give me a nod. I'll take care of him for you.”
“Like tonight? That RAF prick?”
“Yeah. Like tonight…but I'll knock his teeth in instead of Curt doing it.”
She giggled. “I wanna see that.”
The rising and falling of voices up ahead like waves called her attention, guessing it was the group that abandoned them at the pub. She could see they had entered the airbase, although she did not remember her and Gale passing by the gate. Sleep danced around her mind like fireflies, tempting and teasing but she knew she would not be able to catch them yet. 
“I can probably walk now.”
“Are you sure?” Gale questioned without breaking stride. 
She hummed. “I'll be fine. It's not too far from here.”
Gale stopped walking, but instead of setting her down right away, he hesitated. His grip on her thighs twitched, tightening fractionally as if reluctant to let go. With a sharp release of breath, he finally helped her slide down. The warmth and strength of his hands continued to hold her upright as she found her balance back on the hard-packed ground. With her heels in one hand, the other hand ran down her dress, attempting to smooth any wrinkles and to confirm she was in no way indecent. Alcohol was freely skipping through her veins but not enough for her to forget her modesty. Or what was left of it after riding piggyback on Major Gale Cleven…
“Good?” He softly asked, hovering over her like a guardian angel. 
She nodded with faux confidence, standing upright and attempting to brush her hair over her shoulder. Mindful of the lack of space between them, she raised her gaze to meet his, wanting to thank him for helping her. Something he certainly did not have to do. Even though it was dark, she could feel those baby blue eyes earnestly staring down at her. His warm hands still loosely rested just above her elbows, maintaining their connection. 
“Abby?”
Unconsciously, she found herself tipping closer towards him, drawn back into his aura, his presence, that lean, toned body that was safe. It would be so easy to press her head against his chest, to wrap her arms around him and just dive into to the abyss of sleep summoning her. 
“Thank you.” She murmured, closing her eyes and doing just that. Her forehead landed on his breastbone, an initial sting but quickly ignored. Why did he smell so good? 
“You're welcome, darling.” 
His whisper barely floated on the breeze, words she almost missed if she had not felt them in her chest. 
“Mmm…I wanna sleep with you.”
Gale choked. His chest rumbled and sputtered like he was trying desperately to catch his breath, making Abby's head jostle uncomfortably. Something she did not like as she was oh so close to giving into sleep again. 
A sharp bark of laughter sounded nearby but that was irrelevant to Abby at the moment. 
“You're so warm…ugh, I'm so sleepy. Why does alcohol make me sleepy? I don't like it.” 
“Let's get you to bed.” Gale finally said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 
“M'kay…”
Gale led her a few steps, her feet shuffling along. 
“KEN! SHE'S WITH US!” Major Egan shouted loudly. 
Less than a minute later, she could hear her cousin approach, an frantic undertone beneath his words. “Abigail Lemmons! Where'd you go? Shit! Is she hurt?” He directed that last question towards Gale. 
“Go away.” 
“She's fine, just drunk. The road was too rough on her feet.”
They answered at the same time, although her response might have been less words and more of a grunt. 
“Thank heavens.” Ken exhaled in relief, running his hand through his messy curls. “My family would have killed me if something happened to her.”
Ken reached out, attempting to take her hand. “Come on, let's get you back.”
“Nooo…” She swatted his hand away. 
“Abby.”
She swatted at him again, an irrational irritation bubbling up as he disturbed her almost sleep. “Go away, I'm sleeping with Gale.”
She missed the mixture of reactions of those who overheard her declaration, too focused on burrowing closer to the comfy warmth of the man holding her. God, she just needed to sleep! 
“For fuck's sake, Abigail!” Ken half groaned, half swore. 
Suddenly, Simon was there standing beside Ken. “Hey, Abby, I've got you. Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep with the major tomorrow.”
Even as she felt her body being transferred from Gale's lithe form to Simon's muscular body, her mind refused to accept this and fought back with excuses. 
“Nooo…we're going dancin’ tomorrow. He's a good dancer.”
Simon chuckled, hauling her into his broad chest and carrying her bridal style. “I'm sure he is.”
“Wait…wait! Abigail?” Egan stumbled over, throwing his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “That's her real name?” 
“Yeah.”
“Where'd you think ‘Abby’ came from?”
The dark-haired major threw his head back laughing uproariously, “it's perfect!”
“You're drunk.” Gale tried, unsuccessfully, to corral his friend.
“What's perfect?” Ken asked. 
“Abigail! You get it? Abigail!” Egan drunkenly explained with all his sober confidence. “She's meant to have some 'Gale' inside her. Now all Buck has to do is make his move and stick–” 
But Egan did not get to finish explaining his epiphany as his best friend suddenly and viciously slapped a hand over Egan's mouth and pulled him into a headlock, growling something into his ear. 
“Goddamn children.” Kidd sighed from nearby. 
Abby blinked slowly, hearing the words but her fuzzy brain was unable to string it together to form a coherent thought. “I don't get it.”
“Don't worry about it. Let's get you to bed.” Simon chuckled. 
Ken called out, “night, majors!”
Abby glanced over, wanting to say her own goodbyes but with the way that Gale was attempting to suffocate Egan while Kidd watched on with his arms crossed, she guessed they were busy. 
She barely remembered Simon carrying her to her hut, only the night's cold nipping at her bare skin, and the muffled conversation between Ken, Simon and Winks. How she managed to get into bed will always be a mystery to her, somehow she must have been aware enough to fall onto her cot and not just curl up on the floor. Although in the morning she would wake up still in her dress with a hangover and a lot of explaining to do for those intrusive, inquisitive nurses she bunked with. 
All she did know as she drifted off, that night was the first time she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face in a long time. 
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navxry · 1 year ago
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Chasing Shadows on mobile under 300+ ping (in Asia) is so painful
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captain-price-unofficially · 2 months ago
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Footage of the Ukrainian Navy’s newest and largest ship, the Ada-class multimission corvette Hetman Ivan Mazepa, conducting work up operations off the coast of Turkey The ship has completed torpedo firing drills, and flight operations with Turkish Navy SH-60 Seahawk helicopters.
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4rtificialfolio · 8 months ago
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It’s Complicated, My Darling - Chapter 1
Chpt. 1: “Cat got your tongue, doll?”
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“Ada is an operative in the 1940s from Brighton in England, sent over to New York City to work with the Americans, uncovering secrets and spying on potential suspects. She meets a handsome young man, Nick Folio, on the train into the city; little does she know how that moment would change the trajectory of her life”
Parings: Nick folio X OFC (Ada Chapman)
Word count: 1.6K
Chapter Warnings: brief mention of war, slightly suggestive, explicit language, fluff
Series master list
(see masterlist for overall warnings, chapter begins below the cut)
Ada
May 20th 1941
New York City, USA
7:00 am
Dear Diary,
Yesterday is still a haze and I barely slept all night, tossing and turning thinking about him. I still can’t believe my luck or lack thereof. Things are always too good to be true and yesterday proved that. God damn you, Nick. It had to be you didn’t it? Who am I kidding, we met once and he’s cute but that’s it. I don’t know him, he was just an attractive man on the train who just so happens to be the man I’m being told to track. It can’t be so different from any other mission, can it? I can do this, I’m bloody brilliant at this job and this mission will be a piece of cake, I hope.
In other news, Dad sent another letter. He thinks they might have to evacuate soon, after the raid on the Portsmouth docs the whole town is on edge but hopefully, it won’t come to that. Denis is already missing and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Dad and Peggy too. I can’t think about that, I shouldn’t.
Anyway, I’ll be back tomorrow. 
I’m sure I’ll have a more interesting update after I’ve started my undercover work today,
Ada
-
The Precinct, 9:30 am
My train was delayed today, my first day on the cover job and I’m already late. Great first impression Ada! 
“Miss Chapman, I presume?” a middle-aged man, with a not-so-flattering navy blue suit and a grey homburg hat that he definitely should’ve thrown away in the 30s, calls my name from across the ground floor.
“A little late but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt considering It’s your first day”. By the affirmative tone of his low, grumbling voice, I assume he’s the captain; Michael Brewer. I wonder if he knows he’s missing a button on his shirt?
“Yes sir, nice to meet you. Apologies for my Tardiness” 
“Please follow me, I’ll take you to your desk so you can settle in. We run a tight ship here Chapman and I expect the very best from my employees, no less. let's hope you can keep up” I internally snicker at the tight ship remark. If it truly was a tight ship, I wouldn’t be here. If not for the fact I’m here undercover, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid at that sentence; but something about it unsettles me. Alarm bells ring in my head. Michael will be on my watch list.
The tour is pretty mundane, I’ve only been hired as the secretary for my department so there’s no need for me to see the entirety of the precinct however, one room, in particular, catches my eye. The captain’s office, I’ll have to make a mental note of its whereabouts. Michael has been rambling on about the pride and joy of the precinct, and how he’s “built a family he can trust”; I refrain from laughing, being late on my first day is one thing but being fired for rudeness on the first day? I think I’ll pass. Before I know it, We’ve already reached my department floor. It’s nothing too extravagant but it’s certainly the biggest. The criminal investigation department has the most employees in the entire precinct, from the constable to the detective team, the sergeant, translators, the medical examiners and then there’s me, the accountant and secretary. I know Nick is a detective and, in fact, I’m pretty sure he’s the lead detective. Speaking of him, I wonder if he’s in today?
Before I can allow myself to get carried away with my wondering thoughts, Michael finally finishes his boastful rant and shows me to my desk.
“Right chapman, this is your desk. You’ll be doing the majority of your administrative work here but it’s important to store any important and private documents in the file room and I expect them to be logged at the end of each shift. Understood?” Having to lock them away might be a slight problem, I need solid evidence for this case but having access to the file room could be beneficial.
“Yes sir”
“I’ll leave you to settle in and meet your colleagues, we’re happy to have you, Chapman”
“Well look who it is!” an oh-so-familiar voice averts my attention, making me turn away from my desk.
“Nick? Uh I mean Mr Folio” Addressing another boss of mine by his first name, today is just tip-top.
“What’s with the formalities Doll? Please everyone calls me Nick around here, Mr Folio sounds way too formal for my liking”. My breath hitches and I chew on my bottom lip as he calls me ‘doll’. Doll, I like the sound of that. He looks extra sexy today. Sure he looked handsome in a black tank top, but now? He’s wearing a white spear point collard dress shirt paired with navy blue suit trousers with white stripes, a brown, white dotted tie and brown leather oxfords. I can’t help but stare, the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, showing off his tanned, veiny arms. Heat flushes across my body down to my core, he’s hot. Real hot and I’m flustered. 
“Cat got your tongue, doll?” He smirks. There’s that damned nickname again.
Everything about him entices me and I know these feelings are wrong, but I just can’t help myself. I’m supposed to be working against him, spying on him and digging for info but he’s just so sweet to look at.
“Sorry just a little tired, what did you say?”
“I said I was about to go on lunch and you owe me a lunch date, care to join?” A date? I’m sure it’s just a figure of speech.
“Sure! You’ll have to pick where we go, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the city yet” Nick quickly grabs his suit jacket and grey fedora from his desk at the back of the room and gently puts his hand on the small of my back to lead me out of the precinct. A tingle surges up my spine at the light contact, causing a slight shiver.
Nick takes me to a cute little diner about a block away. There’s a yellow and red sign that reads “Fred’s cafe & diner” and a couple of cars parked out front including a new, mint green chevrolet fleetline. Dad told me about these new cars in one of his letters, he thinks they’re an eyesore but I quite like them. 
We settle into a small booth in the corner, right by the window that overlooks the narrow street next to the diner. I’m conflicted, I’m sat across from one of the most, if not the most, handsome men I’ve ever met. His eyes are so dreamy; he’s practically eye-fucking me from across the table, looking down ever so slightly at my lips, as I make small talk about the fleetline out front, and my stomach turns to goo. I begin to wonder what what his lips taste like, how he’d look pushing me up against the wall; but it’s a fleeting thought. Stay on track Ada. A waitress takes our orders and there’s a tense silence among us.
“So doll, how are you enjoying the city so far?” I wish he’d stop calling that.
“It’s not too bad, I really miss the beach and my family but I love the livelihood here. It's a nice change” Home, I miss home. All I want is to hug Peggy and Dad but until the war is over, this is home in the meantime.
“Damn I don’t know why you’d pass up the seaside to live here of all places, but I’m glad you did” Leaning forward on his arms, he smirks.
“Really?”
“Sure, I get to look at your pretty face every day. Sounds like a nice perk to me” He winks. My cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink whilst I find myself attempting to stop a cheesy grin from spreading across my face.
“How about you? How does life here compare to Maryland?”
“Hmm It’s good, I love the job but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the war. I used to be a detective back in Maryland but I was relocated here to help with the war effort” Sometimes I forget about the war; moments like these make me feel normal and happy as if there’s not a single care in the world. But then I read the paper and I’m brought back to reality.
“Watch’ya thinking in that pretty little head of yours?” Concern starts to grow on his face.
“I was just thinking of home and the war, you know? I miss my family and life before it all started” My heart sinks thinking about it all.
“Oh doll, we don’t know each other too well yet and I know I can’t compare to your real home, but I promise I’ll do my best to make you a home away from home. Can’t stand to see a pretty face frown.” Is this the right guy? I mean, really? This is the so-called dangerous man who’s supposed to be stealing money from the precinct? I’ve never met such a gentle, caring soul; and not to point out the obvious but, fuck he’s handsome, I wouldn’t mind feeling his hands on my hips sometime. No, no I can’t think like that. I have a job to do, I mustn’t lose my focus. My thoughts are quickly averted as Nick says my name from across the table, signalling our lunch break is almost over. Come on Ada, snap out of it. 
“Thank you, Nick. I’m sure I’ll feel right at home with you”
With you? Shit.
 I am royally fucked.
-
AN: Sorry this took so long! I was in a really long writing slump but i'm hoping to get a chapter out every two weeks (no promises). I'm really looking forward to you guys seeing what happens between Nick and ADA. Ada has very quickly become my favourite character I've ever written. Please let me know your thoughts! Again, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list for this series :)
reminder my inbox is always open if you’d rather send your thoughts about this series or any of the omens members anonymously (no fic requests).
Tag List: @iknownothingpeople , @dsireland86 , @vinyardmauro , @thatchickwiththecamera , @blackveilomens
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icebear4president · 2 months ago
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Since men are so ready to take away women’s right to vote and say we’re sooo uneducated and need to know our places, please, have these inventions and scientific discoveries that were credited to men instead 🥰
Hedy Lamarr: Wireless communication. Hollywood actor Hedy Lamarr should actually be the person credited with the invention of wireless communication. During the second World War, Hedy worked closely with George Antheil to develop the idea of "frequency hopping," which would have prevented the bugging of military radios. Unfortunately, the U.S. Navy ignored her patent —and later used her findings to develop new technologies. Years later, her patent was re-discovered by a researcher, which led to Lamarr receiving the Electronic Frontier Foundation Award shortly before her death in 2000.
Alice Ball: Cure for leprosy. Alice Ball was a young chemist at Kalihi Hospital in Hawaii who focused on Hansen's disease, a.k.a. leprosy. Her research sought to find a cure for the disease by figuring out how to inject chaulmoogra oil directly into the bloodstream. Topical treatments worked, but had side effects patients weren't interested in. Sadly, Ball became sick and returned home, where she died in 1916. Arthur Dean took over her study, and Ball became a memory—until a medical journey now referred to the "Ball Method." Her method was used for over two decades all over the world to cure the disease.
Elizabeth Magie Philips: Monopoly. The invention of everyone's favorite board game has been credited to Charles Darrow, who sold it to Parker Brothers in 1935. But it was Elizabeth Magie Phillips who came up with the original inspiration, The Landlord's Game, in 1903. Ironically, she designed the game to protest against monopolists like Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller.
Marion Donovan: Disposable diapers. In the '40s, new mothers had very few options for diapers. There was cloth...and that was pretty much it. The daughter of an inventor, Marion's first patent was actually for a diaper cover. She later added buttons, eliminating the need for safety pins. Her original disposable diaper was made with shower curtains, with her final one made from nylon parachute cloth. This new method helped keep children and clothes cleaner and dryer, not to mention helping with rashes. But, of course, diaper companies at first ignored her patent.
Vera Rubin: Dark matter. Rubin is the astrophysicist who confirmed the existence of dark matter in the atmosphere. She worked with astronomer Kent Ford in the '60s and '70s, when they discovered the reasoning behind stars' movement outside of the galaxy. She's dubbed a "national treasure" but remains without a Nobel Peace Prize.
Margaret Knight: Square-bottomed paper bags. In 1868, Knight invented a machine that folded and formed flat, square-bottomed brown paper bags. She built a wooden model of the device, but couldn't apply for a patent until she made an iron model. While the model was being developed in the shop, a man named Charles Annan stole the idea and patented it. Though he received credit for it, Knight filed a lawsuit and finally won the rights to it in 1871.
Dr. Grace Hopper: Computer Programming Language. Hopper created the first computer language compiler tools to program the Harvard Mark I computer—IBM's computer that was often used for World War II efforts. Though it's noted in history that John von Neumann initiated the computer's first program, Hopper is the one who invented the codes to program it. One of the programming languages she pioneered, COBOL, is widely used today.
Ada Harris: Hair straightener. Marcel Grateau is often credited for the invention of the hair straightener, but it was Harris who first claimed the patent for it in 1893. (Grateau made his claim to fame with the curling iron around 1852, and we certainly know there's a difference.)
Esther Lederburg: Microbial Genetics. Lederberg played a large part in determining how genes are regulated, along with the process of making RNA from DNA. She often collaborated with her husband Joshua Lederberg on their work on microbial genetics, but it was Esther who discovered lambda phage—a virus that infects E. coli bacteria. Despite their collaboration, her husband claimed the 1958 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine for discoveries on how bacteria mate.
Jocelyn Bell Burnell: Pulsars. Jocelyn Bell Burnell discovered irregular radio pulses while working as a research assistant at Cambridge. After showing the discovery of the pulses to her advisor, the team worked together to uncover what they truly were: Neuron stars, AKA pulsars. Burnell received zero credit for her discovery—instead, her advisor Antony Hewish and Martin Ryle received the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1974.
Chien-Shiung Wu: Nuclear Physics. Often compared to Marie Curie, Chien-Shiung Wu worked on the Manhattan Project, where she developed the process for separating uranium metal. In 1956, she conducted the Wu experiment that focused on electromagnetic interactions. After it yielded surprising results, Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen-Ning Yang, the physicists who originated a similar theory in the field, received credit for her work, winning the Nobel Prize for the experiment in 1957.
Ada Lovelace: Computer algorithm. In the mid-1800s, Ada Lovelace wrote the instructions for the first computer program. But mathematician and inventor Charles Babbage is often credited with the work because he invented the actual engine.
Rosalind Franklin: DNA Double Helix. Franklin's X-ray photographs of DNA revealed the molecule's true structure as a double helix, which was a theory denounced by scientists James Watson and Francis Crick at the time. However, since Watson and Crick originally discovered the (single) helix, they ended up receiving a Nobel Prize for their research.
The ENIAC Programmers: First electronic computer. The ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer) was the first computer ever built. In 1946, six women programmed this electronic computer as part of a secret World War II project. Inventor John Mauchly is often the only one who gets credit for its creation, but the programmers are the ones who fully developed the machine.
Lise Meitner: Nuclear Fission. Discovered the true power of uranium, noting that atomic nuclei split during some reactions. The discovery was credited to her lab partner Otto Han, who won the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1944
Katherine Johnson: Moon landing. She l discovered the exact path for the Freedom 7 spacecraft to successfully enter space for the first time in 1961 and later for the Apollo 11 mission to land on the moon in 1969. She often went unrecognized by her male colleagues and faced racial discrimination.
Mary Anderson: Windowshield wipers. Anderson first came up with the idea of windshield wipers while riding in a streetcar in the snow. She tried selling her device to companies after receiving the patent for it in 1903, but all of them rejected her invention. It wasn't until the '50s and '60s when faster automobiles were invented that companies took to the idea. By then, Anderson's patent had expired, and later, inventor Robert Kearns was credited with the idea.
Nettie Stevens: Sex chromosomes. Stevens discovered the connection between chromosomes and sex determination. Despite Stevens' breakthrough, her colleague and mentor E.B. Wilson published his papers before her and is often noted for the discovery.
Caresse Crosby: The modern bra. Caresse Crosby, who developed the modern bra. She was the first to acquire the patent for the modern bra, AKA a "Backless Brassiere," yet is often left in the shadows because she sold her patent to the Warner Brothers Corset Company.
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