#fictional ww2

[fanartbyherd]

So… I did at one point draw these two in magical girl outfits.

Honestly I’m a sucker for magical girls (yet somehow I have never finished a single magical girl show??)

This drawing is actually one of the ones that inspired the current mundane horror au to also feature minor aspects of magical girls.

Note that this drawing is a joke, Michel and Gerry do not become magical girls in this au, though there is another character who is.

So another long post incoming, magical girls in that setting.

————whoo————

Magical girls as an institution was founded properly after ww2 but have their beginnings during the war. They started out as civilians with power contributing to the war effort, you know nationalism and all that, they did this informally and sometimes illegally as a lot of the powers ( including the spiral ( correction the majority of the dread pantheon and the “shunned” aspect of the admiration pantheon) where illegal or at least banned. These early magical girls (as a lot of them where women banned from joining the army or not able to help in other ways) became rather messed up as in trying to help out with their powers they would become stronger and risk being consumed by the powers. This was around the time that key charms came into existence. I haven’t decided who invited them or what country they originated from, they where rudemettary items in this case designed to sever off part of a person and a more specifically their power. It might have originated as an instrument to try to entirely remove powers from people. Though I don’t know yet.

Regardless it was only after World War Two that magical girls really became a thing. In part because the imperfect key charms of ww2 where redesigned and updated with research done in that era, including information that was learned from occult experiments conducted by the natzies.

(See this here is why I don’t like world building for urban fantasy, I’d rather not have to research natzi occultism but whatever, ww2 was when a lot of horrid experiments that happened all over and in a world where occult stuff is very real and well known about, I don’t see any reason why absolutely awful things where done with it. I’ll just leave those horror to imagination. Real world baggage in my fiction I loath you.)

Magical girls in their modern iteration where precent to small degrees and had the beginnings of thier larger organizations in the 1950s but took off in popularity in the 1960s seeing the first widespread use as an occupation in 1962. Then officially adopted as the main defense against monsters in 1966. The Cold War helping to propel the use and availability of key charms in both regions allied with the USA and Soviet union.

————occupation————-

Being a magical girl is seen as something like being in the scouts or an extracurricular mixed in with being a summer job. It’s a well paying job for young people still in school or just out of it.

Identities of magical girls are kept secret as a lot of them are minors when they start their careers (and usually end)

Some magical girls also have personas as idles and stuff; child stars, young athletes pushed to perfection, etc.

Most magical girls start their career around the age of 14-16 and most of them retire from magical girl work around the age of 25. Though there are people who began working with magical girl work as a teen and is still work with it in thier adult life. In some way or another, either as mentors or in the less glamorous but still important research, containment, disposal and legal departments.

It is notoriously rare for people under the age of 15 or so to have any sort of alignment if they where not born with it. But not unheard of.

The youngest anyone can be to apply for being a magical girl is 11-15 depending on the country though the average legal low bar is 13.

… let me look something up…

Ok according to the Geneva convention (article 4(3) (c)) says that anyone under the age of 15 can not be recruited to armed or groups allowed to partake in hostilities… good to keep in mind.

Noting that in this au their Geneva convention has some differences to our own as they do have people just walking around with powers. Some rules about how power can and cannot be used in warfare; like no zombies, what to do if a war zone becomes a domain, a lot of specifics that would require me reading the actual Geneva convention to list (mabey I should read that regardless), key charm users (aka magical girls) can not be used against humans.

Back to magical girls. most countries have their minimum age be whatever the minimum working age is or in the case of the USA where technically the minimum age is 16 for full time but where the minimum age is 14 for part time, there’s also exemptions to this when it comes to agriculture. So likely hood is that in this setting the minimum age is something around 14.

Though that being said becoming a magical girl requires a good deal of things, parents permission under the age of 18, at least two years of training. And that it doesn’t interfere with school for students under certain ages. Then of course a person has to have an alignment to a power, or in some cases at least a leaning to one power or another.

A lot of 15-16 year olds take the job because it pays really well even in the train period.

The reason for this ridiculously low age is for two reasons, a in-world reason and an out of world reason.

In world it is because key charms tend to bond easily with younger individuals. Having difficulty with making a permanent connection to anyone over the age of 27. As they operate in some ways simular to imaginary friends. So having teens make the connection is easier.

The irl reason is because a lot of magical girl media the characters are young to teen girls. Card captor Sakura is 10, sailor moon is 14, same for madoka magica, and the winx club member are between 16-18, Tokyo mew mew they are 13 to 16 years old, in magical girl do re me the characters are between 7-14. And even in miraculous lady bug The character of ladybug is 14. So I just kind of stuck with it.

Onto something else.

— — key charms-

Aka the means of transformation.

In order to be a magical girl instead of just a person with power.

Key charms; amplify existing power, prevent physical reformation, protect user from physical harm, heal injuries, strengthen physical abilities and sharpen a persons available senses.

Key charms are loosely explained at the end of these:

(In this one key charms are discussed under the category of artifacts)

So what are key charms and how do they work?

… good hypothetical question… unfortunately I don’t have a clue myself.

Ok that’s not entirely correct, I have ideas on how they work and function in practice, but not theoretically. Like what makes them tick, though I don’t think I will need to know that for this silly fic.

But here’s what I can explain.

A key charms is a small object, usually in the form of a pice of jewelry though not always. Each key charm is unique, and change when they are introduced to a power. Unable to bond with anyone that is not aligned with that power as that is what they have become.

Key charms are difficult to make whitch makes them rather rare. Then to add to the rarity of them is the fact that once a key-charm has bonded to a person it will remain bonded to that individual until the end of thier life unless something severs that connection. Though having a connection severed is usually a choice by both the key charm and weilder but it’s been reported that the power of the end and the desolation can sever that bond too.

Many key charm familiars and their magical girl will perform a passing on ceremony, with a ceremonial  “death” and a passing of the charm to its next wielder  .

So somewhat eluded too, key charms have thoughts and personality! Usually the personality that forms as a key charm becomes full fledged is one that mirrors its weilder. in the case for key charms that have had previous users the key charm will have the personality of the first user, though it may take up quirks of other users too.

Some key charms are able to sever their connections with ease so have had several users. Others are focused on the mission of defending humanity against monsters at all cost and will sever and take on new users as the need to fulfill that mission. This is the odd ones out when it comes to key charms as most form deep bonds to thier users.

Now outside of the need to form a bond a key charm dose a few other things.

A key charm forms “armor” around the user. This armor is what is visually seen as the magical girls outfits. The armor also obscures the identity of a magical girl. The same way someone with the power of the Stranger's face would.

This armor is made of exess power that the key charm has collected over the years with its user and others, this is inpart why the training period is two years, a magical girl can not go out on regular missions when they do not have armor. (It’s a safety risk!)

In part for identity protection but also for a meriad of legal reasons, like how with the armor the chance of injury is lowered. Not entirely remove but lowered. That and with a proper bond the injury can be healed by the key charms (a bit with how the power of flesh and strategy can heal).

The armor is not entirely real, made of light, (alchemy and crafting) some parts of the appearance are dictated by the key charm while other parts are influenced and dictated by the user.

When a key charm is not acting as armor it often takes on the form of a small creature, a familiar or a mascot if you will. This creature can be something like a little bird, a mouse, a cat, or frog. Other times it might be chimeric like a hedgehog with moth wings, or a griffon or a unicorn or a puppy dog with a lizard tail. Other times they take on the form of an amorphous thing, The creators of the key charms have no idea why these “mascots” became a thing but assumed it has something to do with the nature of powers as it’s still not well understood. (On my end it’s because, come on what’s a magical girl without some sort of mascot… still a magical girl, but missing out) (I have another post about what different creatures are capable of powers wise: xxx).

Now a key charm can only make the mascot and the armor, one thing they rarely can make is a magical girl’s weapon. Those are usually provided by a magical girls agency. Though once a key charm gets ahold of a weapon they can use the users natural power to do some interesting things with them. There’s a few reasons why a lot of a magical girls weapons are toy like. But sometimes an agency will just give a 16 year old a gun… I’m looking at you America.

Now a this whole ordeal about the armor and mascots and weapons is just extra to what key charms are mainly designed to do.

That is to allow someone with power to use and access that power without risking themselves or becoming consumed by that power. This key charms achieve quite well. As magical girls can become powerful but never suffer the body altering affects of powers.

————— magic, monsters and maintenance——

Magical girls hunt monsters, that’s what they do. But not everything with power is a threat so rules and procedures are set in place to work with this.

Magical girls generally rely on the numerical ranking system mentioned here:

To organize what kind of creature they are dealing with.

This is useful for a handful of reasons, such as determining how much of a threat a monster is and if it can be delt with by an individual or if a team is needed to contain it. If a monster is of too high of a threat the magical girls will either have another agency contain it or the seasoned older magical girls will be tasked with that creature’s removal.

Especially if they are dealing with anything that used to be human (or perhaps still is) as when dealing with those the rules are different from when a monster crawled out of the world of dreams. Or even former animals.

(Animal rights activism in this world is probably a right mess. Bigger of a mess than irl.)

Magical girls are not police. But often work with the police, governments and military. But only when it comes to monsters and research. Several magical girl institutions are multinational.

---- Police, Policy, Politics ----

Magical Girls are not Police Officers. they are not law enforcement.

they exist in a sort of limbo, meant to protect people from creatures of power, but hold no greater authority than pest control. Though sometimes that pest just happened to have been human…

the Magical Bureo of Investigation:

Or about five hundred other names that change depending on what country you are in.

when dealing with a monster that used to be human, even if slightly suspected of being human it is out of the magical girls jurisdiction. the most they can do is apprehend the creature and secure it until the Magical Bureo of investigation steps in.

these are the guys who are often derogatorily + commonly referred to as the Magical Police.

they are responsible for containment and care of people with power and their interaction with the public at large. They do a lot of messed up stuff that is relatively just swept under the rug. They also (try to) keep track of who has powers, how they are being used, and that they are interfering with normal life for normal people as little as possible.

For most people of power they play a very little part of their life.

They are also responsible for informing the public about paranormal phenomena, and keeping paranormal places (domains) from harming people. Also run prisons, and educational programs.

They don’t really do research, but they work with researchers, they don’t do public relations well.

A lot of magical girls continue onto careers in the burro or with associated agencies and companies.

The magic police are state run.

Hunters: the oldest of all these institutions, and mostly seen as an outdated practice, in cities that is. as magical girls have replaced hunters for the most part in cities, but hunting is still a common profession in rural areas or areas that simply can not afford to have other institutions in place. hunters usually work alone or in small groups. They work on commission. often having licenses to do thier work. allowing them some of the investigative powers like a private investigator.

Some hunters are organizing into loose guilds or unions.

All sorts of people can be hunters, and some hunters are not as picky about laws and such as the other institutions. There also exist rouge hunters. Two kinds, one is a hunter who continues to hunt even though they have lost their license or don’t have one in the first place, sometimes nicknamed the poachers. The other is hunters who believe that anything with any power is a monster and this needs to be exterminated. Not unusual for these types of hunters to overlap.

Some hunters specialize in hunting certain things, like vampire hunters.

Sectioned Officers: these are incidental. Popular and mainstream culture likes to keep themselves separated from the ongoings of power. But sometimes power comes nocking. Sectioned officers (and their equivalents in fire brigades and hospitals) are people either trained in dealing with crimes involving smaller degrees of power or more commonly they are officers who started out as normal officers and had one to many cases involving power and becalmed the designated go-to.

Magical girls are just as much a tool of propaganda as they are there to genuinely help people.

A lot of magical girls perform in charity events, do club like activities and often do this with these other organizations.

Magical girls as an institution have had a lot of controversies and internal issue, just like many IRL organizations. But is overall seen as a positive force on a young kids life, instead of being a “problem kid” or institutionalized. The world lives with the power, but dose not fully know what to do with them either.

————social————

So being a magical girl is a gender nuteral occupation. But because of it’s history it is more associated with girls. So when places are hiring for magical girls they usually advertise to girls.

But boys and Agendered and gender-fluid and so on so forth individuals can become magical girls. Key-charms don’t care what gender their user is or if it changes.

Another thing in regards to magical girls and why girls where originally targeted in recruitment was because of the false notion that girls are more likely to be aligned with the pantheon of admiration and boys the pantheon knowledge. (Magical girls sold themselves to the public as defenders of love, justice, and humanity against the treat of monsters.) beat the shit out of monsters with the power of friendship and love… and incredible violence. The last section is usually left out of PR stunts.

Because magical girls are generally associated with the pantheon of affection girls from other pantheons are encouraged to hide their actual alignment and simply claim that they defeat monsters with the power of love…. What kind of love? Uuugh, the love kind! Yea ignore the way I make shadows eat things, this is definitely the power of love. Stop asking silly questions…

Now another thing I have had to consider is the relationship between superheroes and magical girls.

See becoming a magical girl was not really pushed onto boys until the late 1950s during the silver age of comics. Where the notion of becoming a magical girl was rebranded a while as being a super hero. To some extent.

Supper hero comics where created during the Great Depression and ww2 for most of the same reasons they where in our world. As a way for a generation at was to learn how to cope with adversity and trauma… as well as instill a sense of patriotism and a tool for propaganda.

But superhero’s where generally marketed to boys.

With the idea that men where soldiers and girls where magical girls.

(Some superhero are relatively the same, but things like the X-men and such are very different than their irl counterparts, but Batman, wonder woman, and a lot of other superheroes are relatively the same )

One thing to note is that magical girls mainly operate in big cities. Rural areas and smaller towns are generally left to fend for themselves when it comes to monsters. Still using older methods of keeping monsters away, methods that are not always that affective in large cities.

Sometimes being a magical girl in your teen years is treated similarly to having been in Girl Scouts or something like that. It looks good on resumes as a lot of other skills are taught by the institutions.

It is also not unusual to find certain lower income families try to get their daughters to become magical girls. It pays well and offers a way up, in similar ways to how college in theory opens up more job opportunities and higher paying jobs. This is especially true for people who have power. Power can be a bit of an extra hurdle in getting jobs. Or keeping them. Especially depending what kind of power it is.

————conclusion——————

This whole magical girl aspect of this fic is actually sort of messed up and dystopian. Sort of the point.

I’d not want to live in their world.

I’m still considering naming them something other than magical girls with the name being so gendered, and sort of tied to anime. Even with the existence of non anime magical girls. Also what else could I call them?

All of this information is interesting and all, but relatively irrelevant to the fanfic proper. It’s just background information…

This is why I don’t normally write fanfics look at this mess.

[dragonkid11]

No one, not a single soul, absolutely nobody:

Me: What if, a mech with a big ass rifle that can stab it into the ground with its bayonet and use it as a monopod to stabilize its even bigger shoulder cannon.

[wcters]

𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗘 (𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨)

pairing: joe liebgott x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k+

summary: four times you question what you two are and the one time you finally figure it out

warnings/notes: established relationships, angst (were dealing with war), kissing, pda, some drug use (cigarettes), alcohol, swearing, weapons, violence | no disrespect to the actual veterans or any of the situations described and written here, this is based on the series and the character of joe liebgott. somewhat ib @softguarnere (if you would like me to change it/take it down i will. it’s not really similar but still). if anyone has any tips for writing for band of brothers, please let me know! longest imagine written so far, and a dedication to my boys skip and penkala

You never knew home could be a person . . . until you joined the army and were surrounded by it, by many different people, and the one person you trusted most ━━ Joseph Liebgott. It was unexpected. To outsiders, they wouldn’t even think you two would speak ━━ let alone be friends. Yes, both of you are different in many ways, but you’re also the same in many ways. Skip Muck, one of your other close friends in Easy Company, joked that part of your souls were intertwined and you two would eventually fall in love. In the beginning, you would laugh it off. But you soon realized how true that was.

1. 1942, TOCCOA, GEORGIA

The army was ruthless. You knew that it would be when you joined Easy Company a couple months earlier, but you didn’t expect it to be this bad . . . only because of a certain officer named Sobel. You swear he had it out for all of you, and lots of the men hadn’t done anything bad ━━ that you knew of. Most of the time your weekend passes were revoked for little things such as some dirt on your gun and a stray string (that wasn’t actually there, you checked multiple times), but this weeked you and Joe were lucky to still have yours. You don’t even know how you both managed that, let alone him.

You two were walking hand in hand down the dimly lit street. You were quietly humming a song as you looked at the various stores as you made your way to one of the bars your group frequented. A few other army guys could be seen walking with each other or a local girl hanging on their arm. On any other night you would’ve looked like any other soldier in the soft lights, but you had switched out your uniform for a dress you had hidden in your barracks. You had thought ‘why not? It’ll probably be the last time I get a chance to wear it’ and threw it on with some heels you borrowed from a girl you knew in town with a promise to return them.

The quietness of the street got smaller and smaller as you made you got closer to the bar. “Crowded tonight, huh?” The man beside spoke out loud, swinging your clasped hands. “I think to us it does, but to them it doesn’t.” You joked while letting out a chuckle. Joe did too before grabbing the door of the bar and opening it for you. You mumbled a “thank you” while music filled your ears. “I’ll find us a seat, you get us drinks.” You told Joe as he nodded and you went to search for a booth.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, and soon enough you and Joe were chatting and laughing while couples danced around you. Joe looked around as you sipped your beer before he got up out of the booth and lent out a hand to you. “Would you like to dance?” He smiled. You laughed before looking around. “Why not?” You agreed and got up, making your way to the dance floor as a slow song began to play.

While leaned your head on his chest as you danced with couples around you, you couldn’t help but wonder what you two were.

2. 1943, BROOKLYN NAVAL SHIPYARD, NEW YORK

The heat of the boat taking you to England was suffocating with all of the soldiers packed in it, but Joe managed to have an arm around you waist while you two were playing cards with Muck and Bill. You were just an observer, butting out after the third game and got lost every one.

“Jesus Bill! You must be cheating!” Joe yelled as the brunette man placed another card down, Muck agreeing sourly. You laughed at that while stealing the cigarette out of Joe’s mouth and taking a hit. “You’re just sorry losers.” Bill laughed at their faces. “You don’t get to laugh y/n, you quit because you kept losing.” Skip pointed at you as he saw your face. “At least I accepted defeat, asshole.” You could feel the small laugh that came out of Joe’s chest and imagined the smirk that was on his face. “She got you there, Skip.”

They continued playing for a little while, you and Joe taking turns smoking until Bill won again and Skip slammed his cards down onto the cot. “Calm down.” You told him, soft smile on your face. “I am calm, it’s just Bill keeps winning and it’s fucking hot in here,” the man gestured to the people around you,” I don’t know how you two are that close. I swear I’m going to die of overheating and you two are practically cuddling.” You made a face to your friend while Joe laughed and made a comment that you couldn’t hear.

You and Joe were really close, you basically almost on his lap at this point, but you had a reason. The boat was packed, not being much room to move around. You didn’t want to climb up all the way onto your cot, and you wanted to keep talking with your friends. Plus, you and him had to be close ━━ you were sharing a cigarette. “We’re sharing a cigarette.” You shrugged, grabbing the object out of his mouth as he yelled a “hey” as you took it. Skip gave you a look as if to say “that’s bullshit” and got up, going to find Penkala. You looked over to Bill and he looked down at his cards, smirk on his face.

You had a reason to be that close . . . right? Or was it something different?

3. 1944, NORMANDY, FRANCE

The gravel crunched underneath your boots. You had just landed somewhere in Normandy ━━ you weren’t sure, you had missed your DZ ━━ and were now on the lookout to hopefully find Easy Company and not some German looking to end your life. That’s why you had you gun aimed into the distance. Every little breeze that shook the branches had yoy freezing up and darting you eyes, only to figure out it was the wind or some rabbit that looked as scared as you. It made you feel a little less alone.

When another bush shook, this time a little longer than usual, you crouched instead of just freezing up, gun still trained to where the sound was coming from. You waited before slowly moving forward, trying to minimize the sound of the road beneath you. You saw the bottom of a pair of boots and it seemed you were both waiting for the other to speak first. That decision was chosen for you.

“Flash.” “Thunder.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you heard that and then saw the multiple pairs of boots. “Y/n?” Someone called out within the group. You squinted trying to see who it was. “Bill!” You exclaimed in surprise before recognizing the few other people with him: Marlarkey, Wynn, Toye, Lipton, some people from the 82nd Airborne, and Hall, a man not from your company but you recognized him from Able Company. You quietly said your greetings before continuing on your way to try and find your rallying point.

After finding and following a set a train tracks, a situation happened where Bill shot before Winter’s Command, you reprimanding him again and jokingly pushing his head as he called you a “stupid mick” which you laughed at. Now the group was on the road to the rallying point. The whole time you had been thinking about Joe. God, you wished he was still alive. You didn’t know what you were going to do if he wasn’t. When you eventually got to the farm, you heard a familiar voice. You stopped as you saw each other before you began to run and give him a hug.

You could hear the mumblings of the other soldiers, but at that moment, you didn’t care. When you pulled away you grabbed his face. “Joeseph Liebgott, I would’ve killed you if you died.” You laughed with tears in your eyes as you checked him for and scratches and scars. “I wouldn’t dream of it doll.” He laughed too before pulling you back in.

You decided at that moment in time that it didn’t care what you two were, as long as you had him, you didn’t care. As long as you knew he was okay.

4. 1944, ARDENNES FOREST, BELGIUM

All you could see was white: the sky, the ground, even the trees that surrounded you, that partly acted as a wall. You were sick of it. You think you would feel this way for the rest of your life ━━ the look and feel of the freezing chill of the snow and forest. Maybe you would move to somewhere warmer, somewhere where it doesn’t snow and the lowest it would get would be 59 degrees Fahrenheit.

Imagining what you would do in the future always helped you get somewhat through the hard times, though a person was the one thing that was a blanket to you. He had told you he left to talk to Lipton, but he hadn’t been back for awhile.

As if the world hated you having a small moment of what little peace you could have, a light broke through the white sky. A yell of “incoming!” from someone near you, either Skip or Penkala, caused you to sink further into your foxhole, well what you could, and cover your ears as the bombing started. When you heard yelling with words like “c’mon!” and “hurry!” you looked up to see Skip and Penkala yelling out to Luz who was out in the open. “Luz!” You yelled to him, “get over here! It’s closer!” He followed your voice and jumped in, but as soon as you both turned around you saw Skip and Penkala get hit with a shell. You knew they didn’t make it.

It was over as soon as it happened, but you were so distracted with what had happened that you didn’t feel the burning on your side until George had asked you if you were okay. You groaned when you first felt the searing pain and lifted up your coat to see the blood soaking it. “Oh, shit. Medic!” You had been with a piece of flying shrapnel from the shell that hit the two. You didn’t have time to register how one of your best friends were killed before Doc Roe was at your side with Luz holding you so you wouldn’t move too much. “Christ, y/n.” Gene mumbled as he got a look at it before grabbing a bandage and wrapping it the best he could.

You were frozen now ━━ not from the cold, or the wound on your side that would cause you to get taken off, you were frozen with the realization of what just happened. You wanted to cry, scream, do anything, but you just . . . couldn’t. Everything around you was fuzzy and you didn’t register that the shelling stopped and you were being taken out until you saw Joe. Then, tears managed to fall and you started to sob. He was mumbling about how you were going to be okay and everything was fine as he followed you to the Jeep.

When you felt the rumble of the Jeep engine, you grabbed Joe’s hand as tight as you could. “I love you, you shithead.” You laughed as you told him. You didn’t know whether you would see him again, and you wanted him to know how you truly felt about him, and how much he ment to you. He froze for a second before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. I’ll kill you if you die.”

You laughed one more time as the image of him started to get smaller and smaller as he let go of your hand, slapped the Jeep, and it started to move. You tried to memorize what you could see: his shadow, the way he stands . . . him. You closed your eyes and felt a tear make its way down your face, settling in with the other dry ones.

+1. 1945, BAVARIA, AUSTRIA

The almost-healed wound on your side was a reminder of what you’ve been through, and what you’d missed. You’d been stuck in the hospital since mid December. You attempted to go AWOL multiple times, but you had failed every time.

Your shrapnel scar had ended being worse than Doc Roe thought and you had to be transported to surgery. When you woke up and heard what happened, you immediately wanted to go back and find your company . . . and Joe. You knew you left on a weird note, and wanted to figure it out. That was looming on your mind, along with the grief you finally had time to face. Not really face, more like confront. It was one of the only things you thought about while in there. You hadn’t fully come to terms with it, but you had made some progress.

You had thought about how George was doing, and especially Malarkey. He was Skip and Penkala’s best friend ━━ you were a close second. Bastogne was a horrible place in itself, but having to deal with that while there, to you, was a death wish. You were worried for everyone, the people you left behind.

You had just gotten to Bavaria when you saw Colonel Sink, and he saw you. As one of the very few women in the army, you could say he had a soft spot for you (though you would never say it to his face). You had been told a very uninformative idea of where the airborne was located, but you had been wandering since you got dropped off.

“Sergeant y/n, is that you?” Sink had called out to you as the car stopped. You saluted before you replied with a “yes sir.” “You lookin’ for Easy soldier?” You answered with a yes and conversed for a little bit ━━ mostly about your time in the hospital and what you missed ━━ before he invited you into the Jeep to get a ride up the mountain that looked over you.

That’s where you were know as you made your way up the hill, the familiar rumble of the Jeep underneath you. You couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement and happiness in your stomach as you got closer. You soon heard voices over the engine and on the horizon silhouettes appeared. When the car stopped, you gave a quick thank you, saluted, and made your way to where some of Easy was sitting.

“Having fun without me?” You asked out loud as people turned to you. There were calls of excitement as they saw you and people made their way to greet you, but one of the faces you were looking for was Joe. You eventually saw him getting up from sitting in front of a wheel and you both made eye contact before people split and let there be a clear path to him. You didn’t have to say anything to let him know you were running towards him before jumping on him and giving him a hug. He held you right, as if you were going to leave again, and spinned you around as you both laughed.

He was still holding you, arms around your waist, but had let your feet touch the floor. “Hi.” You smiled. “Hey doll.” Those were the only things said before you lips crashed together and there were cheers from your friends around you. When you parted, your foreheads fell against each other. “I was so worried, I was afraid you weren’t going to come back.” He admitted. “You can’t get rid of me that easy Joe.” You joked before kissing him quickly again and then went on a mission to find Malarkey.

He was leaning against the side of a car, cigarette in his hand. You gave him a tight hug, saying everything you needed to but couldn’t, before parting. You sat and talked while Joe kept a close eye on you.

“Skip was right, y’know.” Malarkey said as he let out some smoke. “What do you mean?” You asked, looking at everyone and the view. “About you and Joe. How your souls are intertwined. I always laughed at it but seeing you two now, he was right.” You blushed and looked down before your eyes met Joe’s and he winked at you.

“I guess so. But hey, never doubt Skip. He always said that. Guess this is a nice payback.” “Guess so.”

You never thought a person could be home, but as you walk in front of the fireplace, your baby girl in your arms, you realize that it could be ━━ that it is. And you are ever so thankful you figured out what you two were.

[andromeddog]

war dog

[mysharona1987]

Lost in all this Starship Troopers discourse is that Verhoeven literally grew up in Nazi-occupied Netherlands.

Safe to say, he is aware of what fascism is.

[indigo-graves]

Warmth | Eugene Roe

When the curtains were no longer able to block out the sun, there was a shift beside Roe, which caused him to stir. There was a moment where he found himself struggling to orient himself to the room. It had been all too easy to forget he was in a bedroom, under warm linens, and not in the snow-dusted forest of Bastogne. A warmth he never would quite be able to replicate radiated from beside him, something he had an even harder time orienting himself to. Even more recent than their arrival at the Eagle’s Nest, was the bedfellow he had found once they got there. 

Gene turned, inhaling her scent. The soap had found in that bathroom was lovely, of course, but he found himself dizzy with desire when he leaned closer, his head tilted to inhale the spot where her hair lingered on her neck. He took a deep breath in, taking in the soft, sweet natural scent, the depth of the warmth that grew in his belly was new. Would he ever get used to being this close? The smokey bite from the fireplace that lingered in her hair felt familiar. He had recalled it from close, accidental brushes when he worked beside her on the battlefield. 

She stirred again, humming as she readjusted herself into the pillow, the mattress, into him. He felt a hum of appreciation rumble deep in his chest. He pressed his lips gently to the back of her shoulder, taking his time to feel the warmth of her skin. Wordlessly, she reached over, taking his hand in hers. He grinned against her skin when she held his hand in hers, lining the length of her fingers up with his. Their two hands became one shadow, blocking the direct light of the sun shining in on the pair. She tipped her fingers between his and pulled it down across her body. His fingers still flexed, hers gripping at his hand, she brought each of the tips of his fingers to her mouth. A kiss was placed on the pad of each finger slowly. Taking her time to recall memories of watching them work tirelessly to keep the Company alive. 

Roe chuckled, the muscles in his cheeks ached from smiling. She felt it against her skin, thanking God for the smile. Few and far between had he shared it with her as they navigated their way across Europe, attempting to keep the Easy Company in one piece. Since finding a place away from mortar rounds and gunfire, both seemed to share those far more freely. And they were not the only two that noticed. 

“Do you think they’ll notice if we both come down to get something to eat at the same time?” She whispered against the back of his hand as she kissed it. He chuckled and moved closer. 

“I don’t think so,” He responded, kissing the back of her neck in kind. “But again, mon cher, it’s not me who is worried about getting caught.” 

She rolled her eyes. She was certainly not going to have this argument on an empty stomach. It had nothing to do with him, of course. Any woman would have tripped over themselves to have a chance to be so adored by a man like Eugene Roe. But it was not something she wanted to be decided until they knew whether or not they would be sent to the Pacific. 

“Gene,” she sighed, turning to face him. He had spent 28 days across from her in Bastogne. They had locked eyes hundreds, if not thousands of times. But each time she focused those large blue eyes on his, he felt a tension in his stomach that no woman had ever caused before. 

“I know,” he nodded. He felt goosebumps raise on his skin as her hand rested on his chest. A soft smile played at his lips in contrast to the pout that had pulled at hers. He kissed her forehead softly, inhaling deeply at the crown of her head. “You stay here. I’ll go get you something to eat.” 

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, “you go down first. Get yourself something. I’ve got to wash up first anyhow.” 

Eugene nodded. He brushed his lips over hers in a whisper of a movement. He swallowed his words. She smiled, pressed a more forceful kiss to his mouth, and rolled out of bed. Again, he thought, he would never be able to replicate that warmth anywhere else in the world. 

[mastersoftheair]

on the point of including black people in the show (or any period show), a lot of the outrage can sometimes come across as performative to me. it's one thing to feel upset about how little screentime black characters get compared to white characters (a valid criticism, believe me, I Know! give me an hour and i could talk your ear off about how this constantly annoys me as a black person who's damned to enjoy period pieces), but it's another to Only get upset while not actually creating content for said black characters, Especially when fandom (not just hbo war, but in general) is famous for taking Extremely minor characters and creating entire worlds with them, to the point where you wouldn't know they're minor characters at all until you check out the source yourself. richard macon, alexander jefferson, and robert daniels each have only 20 or less posts about them (at the time of publishing this post). in my own fandom experience (within fandoms both big and small and old and new, whatever), i've seen more content (posts, art pieces, analyses, fics, etc) made for minor white characters in less than a mere week's time (it's not a competiton lol i'm just giving a perspective here). so idk. obviously, there's nothing anyone here can do about a show that's already been filmed and released. we got what we got. thas it. at least in the great wide world of fandom, you can actually do something about it, turning the big into small. there's precedent for that. otherwise it just feels like complaining for the sake of complaining

[littledesertfox]

Historical Fiction Recommendation

A bit of an unusual post, but I recently learned about the existence of the Desert Peach comic series created by Donna Barr and I need more people to know about it because it's a true gem. A big shoutout goes to @darksideoftwenty who introduced me to this comic, otherwise I may have never even knew that it existed!

To put it simple, the story is about Rommel's fictional gay younger brother called Pfirsich (sidenote, this is literally just the German word for peach and not actually used as a name, but it's still cute😅). He is the leader of a small support unit of the Afrika Korps, which consists mostly of people that are considered "misfits" in other parts of the army. The individual stories consist of all sorts of adventures and shenanigans but also have overarching plot points.

I think it's important to not let yourself fool by the potential first impression with this comic. At first glance, Pfirsich may seem like the absolute stereotype of the effeminate gay man, but there's actually so much more to him. This applies to the other characters too, as the story goes on and we get to know more about them, their personalities just become more and more well-rounded. At least since issue 3 I've been absolutely hooked.

For a comic that was written in the 80s and 90s, I was also extremely impressed how delicately it touches on and handles topics that are still relevant today, and manages to balance chaos and silliness with more serious and darker moments. Of course, not everything may be politically correct by today's standards and you should keep that in mind, but honestly I think there are pieces of media that are far more recent and still did things like this much worse.

The comic is available entirely for free on Webtoon, so if WW2 fiction is something you're into you should definitely give it a try. Apparently there was also a musical made back in the 90s that was based on the comics, but I could barely find anything related to it, I wish there existed recordings😭 Please note that although there aren't really depictions of sensitive content - injuries and (partial) nudity may occur but are usually quite simplified thanks to the art style - but due to the subject matter, it is targeted at adult audiences.

I'm currently at issue 18 and can't wait to continue reading! Here's just one small excerpt showing Pfirsich and Erwin (dancing together and I love how small it makes Erwin look xD), their brother relationship is hilarious and just absolutely adorable <3

[anomura]

literally love bucky so much i think i'm gonna die

[marietheran-archived]

Add what country you're from in the tags.

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 1. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

(TW this chapter contains light gore (st*bbing so that bit will be marked with the first and final world in red text)

London, 1939

Aziraphale, Principality and Angel of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, loved humans.

He had lived amongst humans since his assignment on Eden had ended, and he quite enjoyed his role as Heaven’s official ambassador to humanity. It had been a shock to receive such a coveted position (as much as Angels could covet, anyway).

The job had its downsides, like any, but for the most part, Aziraphale could overlook these. The books, food, wine and art made it worth it.

Humans were amazingly clever creatures, with a knack for imagining purposeful, advanced creations to Angel in Heaven could have ever dreamed of, if they did dream. They were masterful artists, poets, writers, inventors. Aziraphale, nearly six thousand years into this extended assignment, stood in awe at the inventions of the human race.

The motorcar, however, was an exception.

On a Saturday evening in Soho, Aziraphale was particularly bothered. He had plans to attend an Opera at the West End. These plans were interrupted when the driver had stopped him miles from the theatre. It was drizzling, as it often did in London lately, and Aziraphale crowded himself underneath a canopy to avoid getting soaked.

Aziraphale could have miracled the driver to take him to the right language, but with the state of England and the war going on, he felt it was best to cut down on miracle usage just in case he needed them for something important, which he probably would. And he didn’t want to risk Heaven the memo from heaven about too many frivolous miracles.

“Are you going in?” a voice spoke beside him. Aziraphale turned, ready to offer his apologises

He hadn’t realised he had been standing in the entrance way to a storefront.

But he was stuck on the words as he came face to face with the man.

He was perhaps the most beautiful person Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on.

Aziraphale was still staring when the stranger cleared his throat.

“Oh, my apologies.” Aziraphale said too loudly. The gentlemen was dressed in black and grey, which would have struck Aziraphale as unusual if, immediately after, Aziraphale noticed his striking copper hair. He wore it longer than was the fashion. He was also very tall, and slender. He held a black umbrella that he seemed to be in the process of wringing out his umbrella before he’d noticed Aziraphale.

“Are you alright?” the gentlemen said with concern. Aziraphale was still staring, so he tore his gaze from the gentlemen’s face.

“No. Yes. I mean.” Aziraphale stuttered. “I just got caught in the rain.”

The man nodded, the small smile still on his face, then he held out his umbrella.

“Would you like to borrow mine?” he said without hesitation.  Aziraphale looked up him again ready to insist he was fine, but stopped when he noticed his eyes.

They were the colour of liquid gold, except for the ring of green surrounding his pupils. It was deep, Earthy green Aziraphale last recalled seeing in the Garden back when he’d first received this assignment.

“No. No thank you.” Aziraphale said softly. “I think I should like to stay here.”

*

My Dear Anthony,

I hope by the time this letter reaches you in England that you and Anathema will be quite settled in, with Annie at university and you doing your things (I must confess, I don’t quite recall the word you used to describe your profession. It may come to me one day.)

I must admit, dear brother, that although you grumble when I express sentiments to you, that I will miss you terrible when you return to England. There shall be a Crowley-shaped hole in my heart, I should think, for a long time till come. Please do come back and visit us in California.

Thank you for taking care of Anathema. It has always been her dream to attend Oxford. Do you remember when she was a little girl, with her book on magic and fairytales? She’d take it with her everywhere.

She can be quite stubborn at times, but she is a remarkable young woman, and I know that, under your guidance, my dear Annie will be something great. Please give her my love.

Take care of yourself.

Your Loving Sister,

Lucy

-

Crowley smiled down at the letter from his sister. He would never admit it, of course, but he missed his sister terribly. California, too, with its bright, sunny weather. The rain and fog of London coloured the world bleak in comparison.

Crowley had been back in London for a month. Anathema, his niece, was due to start at Oxford, once she got her acceptance, in three months.

She was a standout in stuffy old England, with her American wardrobe, accent, and mannerisms. She stood out in LA, too. She’d spent the days

Crowley had an apartment in Soho that he’d rented out in the year he’d been in America. The death of Lucy’s husband and Anathema’s father had hit their family hard. With their pieces stitched haphazardously back together, Anathema had decided that Oxford was her calling. England was a fresh start, and Crowley had to return at some point. Her mother had, after some convincing, agreed.

He was meant to meet Anathema for dinner that evening at the pub they frequented later on. With nothing else to do, Crowley decided a walk and some fresh air would do him some good, and stepped out into the English rain.

*

The Drooping Donkey had all the grace of a typical Soho bar on a Saturday evening. There was a group of soldiers crowded around a pretty young woman playing the piano, a lively war-tune Aziraphale recalled hearing over the radio on the BBC earlier that morning when he was rearranging his Atlas collection. They nursed warming bears. Chatty patrons took up the tables. There was luckily one spare (Aziraphale may have the ability to have any table he wished to, however he believed in ethical use of miracles) and, after ordering a glass of the house red, Aziraphale made his way over to it and took a seat, content to wait out the storm before going home.

When Aziraphale looked up, he made eye contact with the red-haired gentlemen from earlier. He was alone at the bar, and when Aziraphale looked at him, he did something completely surprising. He smiled.

An hour later, Aziraphale was still recounting the event in self-pity. He could leave now, as the handsome stranger had left. In truth, he’d been too shocked by the gentlemen (who had, upon meeting him, offered him his own umbrella?) and had been unable to use his brain. He had no choice but to enter the bar after the gentlemen, who had held the door out for Aziraphale. Even now, Aziraphale replayed the memory of that brief, awkward interaction over and over in his head. It was pointless. It wasn’t like Aziraphale would ever see him again. He was a human. A handsome, kind human. Still, he had appreciated that small show of kindness. It left a warm feeling in Aziraphale’s chest. The war was getting to him.  

It was dark outside by the time Aziraphale exited The Drooping Donkey. The rain had cleared and, while the street maintained most of the business of a typical Soho Saturday, the sidewalk was mostly deserted. That’s why, when Aziraphale heard a noise like a group of hushed voices and a loud banging sound, he immediately rushed to the source.

The redhead man from the bar laid crumbled against the wall of a deserted alley. He was bundled behind bags of rubbish. Aziraphale hurried over to him, kneeling down to see better and miracleing a source of light. Aziraphale’s checked that the man was still breathing first, which he was, but was barely conscious. In the light, Aziraphale could see immediately that he had multiple injuries. His face was bruised, and his knuckles and hands were red. Then, Aziraphale spotted the spreading red across his stomach. Just below it, there was a knife.

It lay discarded in the wet, tossed carelessly, as though it had not just killed a man.

The stranger groaned as Aziraphale lifted the fabric away from the knife wound to locate the stab wound. It didn’t take long to find it. Blood gushed down the man’s abdomen from the puncture, and bile threatened to rise in Aziraphale’s throat as he realised that the kind stranger likely wouldn’t survive it. He had lost too much blood. Aziraphale had no idea how long he had been here, left like this. There was no time to take him to a hospital. He hadn’t been with a wife or friends at the bar. He would likely die here, cold, and alone.

Aziraphale reached down, pressing a hand against the wound, and healing it. It was overkill, to heal it completely, but the man looked in enough pain that Aziraphale couldn’t help but want to help him as best as he could. He spluttered at the motion, coughing harshly. Aziraphale stood up quickly, miracleing his trousers clean from where they had been stained by water and blood. He also miracled the stranger unconscious.

Aziraphale would have liked to have stayed with the stranger to make sure he got better, but he couldn’t answer the questions the man would obviously have. With any luck, the gentleman would wake up with a nasty hangover, with little recollection of what had occurred the night before. He’d likely interpret the black eye as being the result of a minor drunken scuffle. He would not remember Aziraphale, and Aziraphale would never see him again.

A kindness for a kindness was all it was. Miracling him out of sight, Aziraphale turned, and walked away.

[john2004prid3ch1lean]

[westernfronter]

Regio Escercito / Royal Italian Army

[agusrkive]

under the New Year’s Eve mistletoe

Coldest Winter (Levi Ackerman)

summary: a soldier’s heart and a man’s will is tested when war breaks out leaving him stranded and finds himself far away from the life he only once dreamed of the moment he met you.

There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs, for war does not determine who is right— only who is left.

ELD. 848 PL.

December 24, 1942

under command/ FADM Erwin Smith

Sgt. Annie Leonhart wounded

Sgt. Pieck Finger wounded

Sgt. Marco Bott wounded

T/Sgt. Connie Springer wounded

1st Sgt. Armin Arlert wounded

1st Sgt. Jean Kirschtein wounded

1st Sgt. Bertolt Hoover wounded

M/Sgt. Miche Zacharius wounded

T/Sgt. Colt Grice killed in action

1st Sgt. Porco Galliard killed in action

1st Sgt. Marcel Galliard killed in action

1st Sgt. Reiner Braun missing in action

1st Sgt. Logan Magath missing in action

M/Sgt. Zeke Jaëger missing in action

M/Sgt. Levi Ackerman missing in action

December 31, 1942

to my dearest,

I wrote this letter to you on the 14th of July, Year 1942. It is with a heavy heart I bring this news to you. Today, the platoon had decided to send our unit to the north of Kolberg, Germany for the next operation. It seems like the war won’t be stopping anytime soon and by the time you have received this, it will be around late December. I miss you and not a single day goes by that my thoughts weren’t plagued by you.

I missed you and think of you even at times I shouldn’t. I have you in mind all the time and I haven’t forgotten about the promise I made to you.

I might not be able to come home soon, but I will come home to you and run with my feet if I have to. Right now, it must be the eve of the 31st of December when you’re reading this.

Please, don’t worry about me and I’ll do the same. There’s a lot of things for me to say that the tip of my pen won’t be able to suffice and before I forget to tell you, there’s an odd spot at your place where I seem to have grown fond of, especially with my last visit a year ago. At the backdoor where the scenery of nature can be witnessed, there’s something that I would like to do. I won’t go into details, but I hope when the next winter comes, I’ll be there by your side. Then we’ll settle the rest of things under the mistletoe.

The world is cruel and full of danger, but it’s merciful enough to have led me to you.

- L.A

[saturrnsoul]

Does anyone else have an obsession with WW1/WW2 and likes to rant about it (especially topics on propaganda and pilots)

I would love to hear your rants, and share my own....

We can also talk about historical fiction...

Plz I'm cool

[lacnunga]

In the wake of the IA situation, I've seen a lot more posts circulating about using your local library and I just. Sigh