#maybe artillery shell

[selfmaderibcageman]

what would the android battery plushy for boys look like

gun

[avephelis]

every time a post-finale story forgets donnie can Literally Make Guns Out Of Thin Air i explode again

[blue-sleeps-in]

if i was a superhero with super strength and stuff I'd be learning how to throw things immideately. why would i punch that villain guy when i can throw a rock supersonic

[thahxa]

there is something profoundly depressing about the russo-ukraine war. here are two dying countries (demographic pyramids for both look awful, both have TFR <= 1.5) just grinding their last together and. for what?

average age in both armies is over 30. (ukraine's is over 40). ukraine is not even thinking about conscripting people under the age of 25. the median age of the people russia did conscript was 35 (for reference: in ww2 the average age of the american solider was 22-24). this is an old man's war - neither can afford to send their young, they're too precious, and even then, there aren't many of them left.

ukraine has a gdp per capita of around 5k. russia of 12k. it's likely neither of their countries will see their economies grow substantially after this, if at all. both remain highly corrupt. ukraines infrastructure has been shattered.

we've had 2 years of war now. 2 years. 100000 people have died. in the last year the front has barely moved. the war is expected to last at least another year. russia sells wheat to north korea for artillery shells while we try to scrape together political support for the latest equipment of the 1990s to send to ukraine.

even if ukraine wins, so what? its best and brightest will leave as soon as they can, presumably the rest will be stuck doing reconstruction work and defending the now heavily militarized border in case of another invasion as the country slowly dies due to emmigration and fertility collapse.

even if russia wins, so what? its best and brightest will leave as soon as they can, presumably the rest will be stuck building occupation governments and selling natural resources to china while its country slowly dies due to economic sanction and alcoholism.

if the war ended tomorrow, maybe we'd all come to our senses about how senseless it was - two dying nations throwing the remnants of the former soviet army into battle with each other, an orgy of senseless violence, the final hurrah before slowly fading into an endless stream of pension payments and economic dependency, neither side given enough ability to do anything.

just old men dying, dying, dying, until the guns go silent.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Mercenaries finding random kid in the base. Who will punt the child and who will take care of it

Oh boy.

The TF2 Mercs finding a random little toddler in the base

Warnings: Thankfully none?

Scout:

- Oh god oh fuck oh shit. Stiffens up when a random fucking toddler runs by him in the hallway. He was just on his way to grab some more energy drinks from the fridge. Who let this little shit into a war zone?! Scout’s brotherly instincts kick in pretty damn quick and runs to grab the child before they could get into any artillery.

- Talks to a child how he’d talk to a normal adult. Just with less cursing and petty condescension. “The heck you doin’ here?” etc.. While the toddler completely ignores him. Bounces the little thing up and down a little. Scout’s actually had decent socialization with kids before due to his huge family.

- Scout doesn’t realize how comforting he is to a young developing mind. He’d make a great father and adamantly denies it. Partly due to his own father’s… untimely disappearance let’s just say. The other mercs are kinda floored how someone as annoying and troublesome as Scout has even the slightest amount of paternal instincts. Especially Spy. Hmm, for some reason he looks completely destroyed and devastated.

- Scout rolls a baseball on the ground with the kid and teases them lightly while Miss Pauling — stressed out of her mind — tries to find resources for this situation and figure out how a child of all things managed to end up in the middle of a battlefield. Let’s just pretend Spy isn’t standing there with his head in his hand. Realizing the consequences of his own past actions with utter depression written all over his outward body language.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- DO NOT LET A CHILD NEAR SOLDIER. NEVER. DO NOT FUCKING DO IT.

- Are you insane? Are the parents insane? Is everyone in the world fucking insane? Soldier is practically an oversized toddler. He’d immediately make friends upon finding the child and give them a shitty nickname related to war in some way. Like “Captain diapers” or “Lieutenant Titsucker.” Now everyone else has to suffer soldier insisting the baby is his now.

- Tries to teach the child how to shoot a gun. Does not blow over well with literally all the mercs combined. Tries to read them the art of warfare and Heavy secretly has to switch that book out for a children’s fairytale mid story. Leaving soldier confused as to why the alleged warfare book contained faries and unicorns. “AND THEN MR. UNICORN SAID TO HIS FRIEND THE FAIRY: WHAT LOVELY LOCKS YOU HAVE. DEAR GOD!! THIS MUST BE SOME ADVANCED MILITARY STRATAGEM BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING! GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ITS OUTSTANDING STEADFAST PROGRESSION!”

- Miss Pauling is absolutely livid when she finds out Soldier gave the baby a buzz cut. How the FUCK is she supposed to explain that to the parents? How the fuck is she supposed to explain that their lost child will come back knowing half the entire history of WWI now and knows how to recite the pledge of allegiance at like two years old?!

—————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Demoman is initially pretty awkward. Quickly downs like several glasses of water in one sitting because it would obviously be a horrible example if he was drunk in front of a minor. He sits them down and tries to ask questions like where their parents were, and failing to understand the child’s not yet fully developed speech. Demoman suddenly empathizes what people mean when they can’t understand his scottish accent. Well shit. Looks like he has a little goblin in his care for a few hours.

- Demoman has a headache now. Surprisingly not from the child’s excited screeching and playing but the previously mentioned alcohol he had to manage with water. “Aye.. Quiet down a bit there..” He says flatly. Miserably holding his head while the child bounces around with endless energy. Maybe babysitting while recovering from intoxication wasn’t the best idea. He gave the kid some empty bomb shells to play with. Even bothered to draw faces on them to humor the kid.

- The child holds one of the shells up to his face “This is bob! Say hi!” they exclaim. Demoman stares at bob tiredly. Taking the shell into two fingers. “Guess you could say bob is the bomb.” The kid manages to stutter out. Which then immediately snaps demoman out of his exhaustion for a split second and causes him to choke on the water laughing his ass off. The kid’s laughing too. Overall the least insane experience the poor kid could have in the team’s base.

———————————————————————

Engineer:

- A small baby is in the intel room, trying to reach the briefcase. Naturally, the sound of the intelligence shifting in the other room would catch Engineer’s ears faster than anyone else’s. Especially considering the stats on his PDA show something bumped against one of his sentries on its way in.

- He enters the room pretty slowly. He knew whatever it was, it wasn’t a threat. Nothing that could bap his sentry with the force of a feather would be strong enough to fend him off. Let alone the patrolling sentry — which should have activated and began shooting by now. A blank, emotionless expression on his face as always, Engineer’s eyes trailed to the level three sentry. Which kept idly spinning from side to side and beeping passively. Completely ignoring the… Little child near the intel desk?!

- Engineer grinned, put his wrench on his shoulder and went over, sliding the briefcase away from the little one. “Oop! You don’t wanna get your grubby little paws on that thing, pardner. That there is for the adults, ya got that?” He said in a lighter tone. Very much unlike his usual rasp and frankly unintentionally scary deep voice. He didn’t care that the poor thing started whining. Dell reached down and ruffled the child’s hair. “Now, now. I know it’s disappointing.”

- Not even when the child hugged his legs and called him dada, not even when Miss Pauling asked to watch them for a bit. Engineer was like a nonchalant father lion tolerating his cub’s obnoxious little bites. A child could push his buttons to hell and back and Engineer would just sit there like there wasn’t a screaming child on his lap while he read the Tuefort newspaper.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- If heavy were to be near a child in any capacity, it would make him nervous. His sisters were a different story. They’re family. But wild encounters with the beasts? What should he do? He doesn’t know them, and frankly he hates the idea of having kids. They’re way too much work, money, and his inner child wasn’t healed enough to take on another one. In a weird sort of way he’d be taking care of two.

- as he stares blankly at the little devil in front of him, the one he found trying to touch Sasha, he contemplated throwing them into the stratosphere like a baseball. His strong disliking for children didn’t come from a place of genuine malice however. He was envious that they still had youth and time to pursue everything they ever wanted. Heavy wanted to do many things in his lifetime and he felt that it was ripped from him due to the poverty he lived through.

- He recalled the time he made a child one time during Halloween and decided not to repeat that. He’ll pick up the child and shove it into Pyro’s room.. With a million dollars in the kid’s hand.

——————————————————————-

Pyro:

- Speaking of Pyro, they’re quite similar to Heavy in the sense that their inner child isn’t healed. But Pyro is once again able to destroy everybody’s outlook on them when they are capable of adeptly playing with children without ever hurting them. Especially catering to their personal needs depending on age. Can and will silently warm up a teddy bear in the microwave and hand them a bottle of chocolate milk.

- Pyro is extremely good at this, all things considered. They seem to have a pretty surface level understanding of childhood psychology and the proper ways to enforce a gentle parenting style. Which only adds to the mysterious era of their humanity; surely a faceless monster couldn’t do the things Pyro was doing. They were too calculated, too thoughtful in their actions. It made the other mercs pretty upset to see this display. In a sense, it was border-lining uncanny valley. Nobody could shake the primitive instinct that something was inherently wrong with this. They don’t even ask for help.

- But nothing violent becomes of it. Pyro had successfully eased the child into feeling comfortable the entire time they’re there. Not a single word left their mouth the entire time. They were only staring intently and tilting their head like a curious animal at the child by the time Pauling finally found the child’s parents. Scout jokes that Pyro is simply playing with his own mouse like a cat and has to be backhanded by a very uneasy Heavy.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- His parents — whilst nice — had their own individual flaws that prevented them from teaching this area of life. They did not think Sniper would be ever fit to raise a child and thus neglected his want for a small family. To be fair they aren’t too far off. Sniper is an assassin for hire that drives around nomadically and eats crocodiles for dinner. In no way shape or form would that ever be a proper atmosphere for a child to grow. He took their words to heart as always. He never did pursue a child. His father was angry that Sniper even thought of the idea.

- So imagine the guilt upon seeing the little rat bastard who had wandered into the base and was stumbling around the halls. He quickly realized this kid was essentially doomed. He was the wrong person to find this poor thing. The others weren’t any better. Removing his weapons was the very first thing he does, trying his best to conceal his expression. He didn’t want the child to sense his anger and self loathing. (Kids are sorta smart like that.)

- He then…. Throws the child into Pyro’s room.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Walks into his medbay with a bunch of folders. Sees a child sitting on one of the hospital beds. Proceeds to freeze in place like a deer in headlights. Has to double take for a moment to make sure he’s not dreaming.

- Proceeds to ignore the child for a bit for some reason. Even when and if other mercs are present and question him, Medic hushes them for some reason. Medic is like…. Fully convinced that child is an enemy spy in disguise. He moves around the room and half-asses a “Ho! Would sure be a shame if somebody stabbed me in the back while I was organizing papers!…. I SAID it would be a SHAME if SOMEBODY STABBED ME IN THE BACK!” (He fully believes this’ll work because Medic’s superiority complex doesn’t stop at Spy. He’s fully confident that he’s smarter than Spy, and Spy is a complete bumbling moron. Like most people to Medic.)

- The child makes a weird child noise, and that’s when he knows something is up. Medic narrows his eyes and marches up to the bed, staring the child maliciously in the face. “You don’t fool me, you know..” He says, gritting his teeth. “Is your kit broken or something? I can fix it for you for free! It’ll cost you an arm and limb though! Ho! Literally.” He adds “It’s quite an unflattering disguise for someone such as yourself!”

- Child stares blankly. Toddler has no clue what’s happening right now.

- Miss Pauling walks in. “Oh! There he is! Sorry for the interruption Medic, we had a child wander into the base—“ she pauses. Seeing Medic holding his ubersaw up to the child’s chin.

- “What do you mean we had a child wander in?” He is dumbfounded, and horrified.

————————��———————————————

Spy:

- Spy opens the door to his quarters and makes sure to lock it behind him, always. He has like a million booby traps set up on his door and in his room to ensure nobody goes snooping for his private information.

- He turns around, adjusting his tie. Getting ready for the trauma of the day….. Then he sees a child sitting right in front of him in the hallway. The two of them lock eyes for a moment.

- …….

- Spy cloaks away immediately.

[alaamomtoleen]

If I Don’t Post in the Coming Days, Know That I’m Gone—Pray for Me 🙏🏻💔

Hello, I just need to pour my heart out for a moment.

I created a GoFundMe account at the end of June, but I never really promoted my campaign until about two weeks ago. I always wondered, "Will I even live long enough to spend the money? Will I survive this, rebuild my life, and return to normal?" 🌪️ I questioned whether I’d ever fix our home, or maybe leave this war-torn land to create a better future with my husband and our only daughter in a peaceful country. 🏚️🛤️ Deep down, I believed I wouldn’t make it to withdraw and use the funds.

But now, my money is gone, and we have no source of income. So, I decided to finally share my campaign. Yet, for the past three nights, I’ve returned to the same grim thought: that I won’t live to use even a penny of it. 💸

We’re enduring terrifying nights, living in constant fear of death. Airstrikes and artillery shelling are happening randomly. Just a few days ago, many of our neighbors were hit. In those dreadful moments, my husband, daughter, and I looked at each other in silence, saying our goodbyes with nothing but fear in our eyes. We held hands, bracing for the worst. 💔👨‍👩‍👧

If you don’t hear from me again, know that I am no longer here. Please pray for my soul. 🙏🏻

@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @timetravellingkitty @meaganandersoncolor @briarhips @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnot-blog @7bittersweet @tortiefrancis @toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptocracia @amygdalae @ankle-beez @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @deepspaceboytoy @mohamedddw @junglejim4233 @post-impressionisms @neechees @irhabiya @neptunerings @heritageposts @ot3 @deathlonging @deathlonelypast-blog @mazzikah @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @kibumkim @sawasawako @feluka @dykesbat @mavigator @lacecap @socalgal @tododeku-or-bust @victoriawhimsey @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

[rogue-durin-16]

LUCKY LUZ

Request: omg you are my favourite writer, and I read your bob stuff weekly again and again ! If you feel like it, I was thinking prompt 7? With George Luz ? I’m a sucker for angst so like anything angsty with my boo George Luz.

Summary: Bastogne took a serious toll on Easy Company. At the loss of so many friends, George Luz started to tamper with his luck a bit too much for a certain medic's liking.

Prompt/s:

"We have a problem." "No— you have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps getting in trouble."

Pairing: George Luz x medic!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: mentions of death, survivor's guilt, self-destructive behavior, depressed George Luz (YES THIS IS A WARNING I'M GENUINELY SORRY)

A/N: you asked for angst? I'll give you angst. Also, it's been SOOO long idek if I'm gonna write the BoB boys right/as I used to, so bear with me while I try to get the hang of this again. Enjoy this request and remember they're open so feel free to send ideas <3.

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

In war, much like in any aspect of life, there would always be recklessness.

Little did it matter whether it was on the XO's, the Privates' or the civilians'. There would always be recklessness causing avoc amongst the carefully detailed strategies. It wasn't an excuse for whatever the outcome was, but it was expected and one could somewhat prepare to counteract it— to balance it out.

George Luz's behavior during our last days in the Bois Jaques was not recklessness.

No, it wasn't something as simple, so easily justified by inexperience, pride or short-temper. It was darker, more complicated, and way much worrying than recklessness.

'you think he's tryna kill himself?'

Spina's question, the one he had whispered to me in our foxhole a few nights prior, echoed in the back of my mind every day since then.

'Don't say that.' I had responded at the time.

Now George Luz laid before me, unconscious, with bandages under his winter uniform and I asked myself the same damn question.

Twenty Hours Earlier

"INCOMING!"

Lip's shouts were barely audible, muffled under the thunderous shelling of our position.

We had just managed to advance further into the Bois Jaques and towards the town of Foy, which seemed more and more unreachable each passing day, when that dreadful whistling hovered over us.

Foxholes barely dug and low morale after the loses we had endured the past couple of days, made it harder than usual to react on time.

Thankfully, German artillery hadn't zeroed us yet, so most of us managed to take cover.

If most of us managed, why was George still standing out in the open?

"LUZ! GET DOWN!" Someone yelled, but it didn't reach him.

"GEORGE!! DOWN!!" Lipton's throat sounded sore, but it did the trick and soon the Technician was crouching, yards away from me, helmet secured with one hand and his rifle up on the other.

Lucky Luz, an ominous, abrupt silence followed his delayed reaction as the shelling seemed to come to a halt.

"Woah," as if everything was fine, he snapped back into his carefree demeanor with a breathy laugh. "That was a close one, huh, Y/n?"

My immediate, impulse-driven reaction was to yell at him, although not even I could hear it.

Another deafening whistle.

Another explosion.

Maybe Luz was lucky himself, or maybe, just maybe, he was lucky we were willing to risk our lives for him.

Maybe he was just lucky I jumped out of my foxhole to pull him into it.

Maybe he was just lucky I wrapped him in a tight embrace to shield him from possible shrapnel the best I could.

Maybe, just maybe, he was lucky enough for me to feel his yelp despite not hearing him due to the explosions— lucky enough to have been dragged on his back instead of his tummy.

Lucky enough to be in a medic's foxhole.

The shelling stopped, this time for good. I halfheartedly let go of Luz, my gloves now crimson-stained.

My heart skipped a beat.

" 'M hit—"

"Christ— I got it." My covered palms instinctively found the left side of his ribcage, but failed to reach his wounded upper thigh.

"—fuck-" he hissed, jolting his head up in pain and consequently bumping it on my shoulder.

"LIP!" Before I could yell anything else, our Sergeant slid into the foxhole.

"WE NEED A JEEP OVER HERE! PERCONTE!" He shouted, pulling George towards him so I could move aside and properly fix him up. "It's alright, George, you're okay— right Y/n?"

Luz was not okay. We knew it.

But I couldn't exactly say that, specially just after he had been hit.

"Right, Y/n?" Lipton insisted intently, holding George in place while I ripped his jacket to have an easier access to the main wound. "Y/n?"

"Yeah- yeah, right." I mumbled, dusting the sulfa powder where he had been hit. "Sarge, I need that jeep."

Lipton sighed and looked over his shoulder. "Perco?!"

"They're comin', Lip!"

George was awfully quiet as he tried not to recoil due to the pressure put over his open wounds.

"It's alright." Lipton repeated, more to himself than to Luz.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"You're awake." She stated even before I could open my eyelids to see her standing by me, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

"How'd you know?" I question, squinting and blinking a few times before propping myself up in the poor excuse of a bed in which I had been laid to recover.

" 'Cause I know you."

"Where are we?"

"You got hit."

"I know."

"Then why on earth did you ask—"

"Dunno, I was hoping we'd be in heaven." I winked at her before completing my sentence. "Since you're my own personal angel."

Silence.

"You think it's funny?" I opened my mouth in agape, not knowing which was the right answer to that —because there was always a right answer with her— but I had no time to choose. "You think it's funny that I had to put myself in harm's way to drag your ass to safety?"

I furrowed my brows with a puzzled half smile and a sort of anger I couldn't describe brewing inside me. "You're kiddin' right?" A single breathy laugh escaped my throat. "C'mon Y/n/n, I thought you knew what you were signing up for when you volunteered to be a medic."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean if you don't know you have to 'put yourself in harm's way'," I mimicked her voice, which left her stunned. "Then, we have a problem."

"No. You have a problem." oh, she was mad. "I have an idiot who keeps getting in trouble." The medic was quite obviously trying not to yell at me.

"Okay, if you say so." I shrugged, trying not to let the turmoil of emotions the conversation was triggering inside me show through my careless facade.

"What are you trying to do here, George?"

"Nothin'?"

"Why are you trying to get under my skin?"

"It's just what I do best, sweetheart."

And it was true. For two years, I had been an awfully insufferable piece of shit.

How could I not? When that was the only way to get her attention back in Toccoa; the only way to stand up in the eyes of the prettiest woman I had ever seen amongst an entire Battalion of men.

Not that it took me anywhere per se, but at least we had forged a friendship based on sweet bickering, muffled laughs and knowing glances.

She used to laugh all the time.

Maybe I was no longer funny. Had I lost the one thing I was useful for?

Or maybe she was tired of me.

She did seem tired then, staring at me with a saddened, wornout visage.

"You're not okay." She nearly whispered. "I'm done letting you pretend you are."

"I'm not pretending—"

"You think I don't know what means being medic?" Her tone told me I had crossed the line. "You think I don't know I gotta get out there if someone cries for help, no matter how scared am I or how slim my chances of survival are?" Y/n tried to stay gentle, but she had had enough, which somehow scared me. "But no one screamed 'medic', George. You weren't down. But I still got out there to get you. It was not my job, do you understand?"

Shut up shut up shut up.

"Well if you're gonna complain this much then you should've left me there—"

"To die?"

Despite the crazing chaos that surrounded our little corner in the aid station, I somehow heard nothing but a deafening silence and the pounding of my heart.

"Do you wanna die, George?" I went livid, trying to look for a reply that wouldn't make me crack. "Is that what you're trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"Are you nuts?"

"Answer my question."

"I-" Scoff. "what d'you even—"

"Luz."

"I'm tired! I'm just tired and didn't react on time, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?"

"What I wanna hear is a good reason not to get you pulled off the line!" She shouted, stomping on the cold ground beneath us.

Oh, now people were staring.

She used to become so self-conscious about that; people giving her looks for raising her tone.

As she stood straight by my side, towering over my bed, there was not a single ounce of self-consciousness in her frame.

She was mad. Mad and hurt.

Hurt because I wasn't being honest with her. Hurt because she had been sticking up for me for an entire week because I just wasn't there; because I was, like she had just said, I was an idiot getting in trouble.

"So? Go on, then." The medic spurred me, gradually lowering her voice again. "Give me a good reason."

"You can't get the XO'S to pull me off the line, Y/n." I chose to respond, almost daring the girl.

She was holding back. I didn't quite know from what exactly but I knew she was holding back, and a part of me wanted Y/n to lash out.

I'm sure a part of her wanted, too.

Tension could be cut with a knife, and deep down I wanted to give her an answer but the truth was I couldn't find it, and if I was damn good at something, it was dodging the bullet.

"Listen if you don't have anythin' else to say," I shrugged with my brows raised. "Guess it's better for you to head out."

"Y'know what? I still have something to say." She spat through gritted teeth, yanking a stool that stood alone by a blooded stretcher. With a deep breath, she sat down beside me, which was the last thing I expected her to do. "You're a fuckin' moron. You've always been. But you've never been an asshole." She spoke intently, trying to get her point across despite me not being in the best place to listen. "You're not an asshole, George."

No matter how angry or frustrated she was, there was always an inherent sweetness in her tone whenever she talked to me, one that shook me to the core because how could someone be so lovely in such horrific setting? How could she be so lovely to me?

"And you're not gonna convince me otherwise." She firmly stated, staring straight into my soul to make herself clear.

'I see through your bullshit'.

"So quit it."

She remained expectant, waiting for me to say something —anything.

I couldn't.

She knew it.

With a defeated sigh, she reached out for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before getting up and out of the tent. It was her way to apologize because she had to leave. I knew that gesture too well.

Aldbourne, Early September

Laughter and soft music kept the good spirits high inside the crowded pub in Aldbourne; our small safe haven. The only place where I had seen Y/n loosen up completely.

She lit up the place, dancing with Penkala, telling stories with Guarnere, cracking jokes with Martin —her dry humor matched his perfectly.

It was, I think, while she held onto my arm, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter due to something Babe had said, that I knew I loved her.

Even with her head on my shoulder and my arm lazily wrapped around her waist, she remembered to check her watch. Ever the dutiful one.

"Jesus! Would you look at that?" She pulled away from me, her fingers gently clasping my forearm before giving me an apologetic smile. "Gotta head out already, boys."

"Oh, c'mon Y/n" Buck complained, but she repeated the gesture with him and he knew no amount of convincing would get her to stay.

"But we're just getting started!" Babe complained.

"Sorry, Heffron. I really gotta head out." She squeezed his bicep briefly when she walked past him. "You better not be late, Compton!" She yelled as a form of goodbye before waving at the boys filling the English bar, now a bit less merry. At least for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"M'kay what else do we need?" I asked Gene, my trusted pencil in hand to write down the supplies needed on the back of a photograph.

"What d'you have so far?"

"Uhm... Morphine," I listed, raising a finger. "bandages, three pairs of scissors,"

"Sulfa powder." He added, going through the boxes we had left.

"Sulfa... powder..." I muttered with knitted eyebrows while I noted the words. "Anything else?"

"Let me check—" The medic stood up in his foxhole, his attention caught on a particular voice coming from our left. "Ain't that—"

"Yes it is. Fuck." I handed Eugene the photograph and climbed out the dug out patch on the frozen ground. A part of us expected to be wrong, but of course not. What had initially been tentative steps turned into fast stalking. "Are you kidding me?"

George's laugh died down and a wave of 'shit's came out of the group of veterans surrounding him, who quickly spread out.

"Missed me much?" The attempted playfulness was charged with masked fear. He let out a yelp when I grasped his forearm and dragged him away from curious ears. "What's that for?"

"Don't you dare act stupid." I hissed with a menacing index finger up at his face.

"Okay, Y/n, listen—"

"You went AWOL in this state. I'm not listening to any bullshit."

"Oh, c'mon" the dismissive eye roll only made me fume even more. "We've all done that."

"It's not the same."

"How."

"You're. Not. Okay. George."

"Oh and you are?!" I sushed him when he inevitably rose his tone at me, clearly forgetting we didn't know exactly how close we were to the Germans. "Breaking news, Y/n/n!" The belligerent tone in which my nickname had come out sounded so unnatural. "no one's okay!"

"Winters is expecting my final advice."

"On what?"

"On whether to pull you back or not." His mouth opened in agape, betrayal reflected all over him. "I wasn't bluffing when I said I'd get you out." There was a finality in my words, one that neither of us liked.

Since the current situation seemed to be leading to the one which had place in the aid station a couple of days prior, I turned heel and attempted to leave.

"Y/n wait—" George's digits yanked back the sleeve of my coat. "I don't want out!" His throat suffered from the rasping.

"Then why does it look like you do?"

I should have stopped pushing.

"YOU DIDN'T SEE IT!" He exchanged the whisper-shouts for a loud cry filled with anger and frustration and something that made his chocolate brown irises water.

"SHHHH!"

"DON'T SHUSH ME!" He was losing it. It wasn't the yelling that gave it away, but the push on my shoulder.

I shouldn't have, but I myself didn't have much patience left in me. Against better judgement, My gloves found the lapels of his coat and shoved him back against a nearby tree. "I don't wanna get shot, George, so tone it down." The softness in my pitch came out as a hard contrast to my actions.

It did the trick, though. After a gulp and a deep breath, George's tone lowered. "You didn't see it? Okay? No one saw— I- They- " My hands abandoned him in order to offer some space, hoping that would help him articulate his thoughts better. "There was noth- nothing left!"

"What's-" I tilted my head to the side, trying to make sense out of the unfinished sentences. "What d'you mean w—"

"And I was right there!" He pushed himself off the tree, an index pointing at his chest violently. "I had to see it! Right in front of me!"

"George, you need to slow down-" my palms raised in surrender, ready to grab the technician if necessary.

The tension he was building up made both of our hearts pound faster each passing second for more than one reason.

"First Toye and... And then that happened and I-I had to dig out the fuckin'- the goddamn cross! I was- There were... Parts of 'em—"

Oh.

"It was... I was looking for it all over and... it was all mushy and I don't know if it was... Dirt or... Jesus..." The man took a step back, consciously or not and his legs seemed to falter ever so slightly.

"Okay, I got you." clasping his forearms with all my might, I helped him hold himself upright, not without some staggering. "I need you to breathe, okay?" My eyes searched for his, unwilling to meet mines. So that was what had been happening.

"I don't want out." He stated with a shake of his head, making a single strand of hair wobble over his forehead. "I don't get to leave."

Sigh.

"Muck and Penkala," he flinched at the mention of their names. "They'd want you to leave."

"You don't know that." It was a murmur, much less intended to be said out loud than the question that followed it. "Do you want me to leave?"

No.

"I just don't want you dead."

"That wasn't the question."

I don't want you to leave me here. Alone.

"For god's sake George—"

"Why do you want me away so badly?" There was a sort of plea in the question, one that was breaking my heart. "Did you get tired of me?"

I love you.

"That's not—"

"If you're done with my bullshit I can just ask to switch platoons."

I love you.

"George I'm telling you—" I groaned, letting go of him. "it's not about that."

"Well whatever it is, I can just switch to second,"

"George."

I love you.

"they're short on people anyway."

I love you.

"I don't need you to switch platoons."

"Then what the hell do you need?"

I love you.

"I need you to be careful!" Now it was me who needed to be sushed. "You're gonna get yourself killed. And you're gonna get me killed!"

That hit a nerve.

With regained strength, George shortened the distance I had just put between us in order to try and breathe, a task that seemed to become more difficult each passing second.

"Then stop sticking out for me!"

I love you.

"It's not that simple!"

"Why not?"

"I love you! You idiot." Lucky me, Luz was way too perplexed to tease me about the red tinge bringing life to my cheeks. "I can't just... look away if you're doing something stupid."

Maybe I would have preferred the teasing over his unresponsive behavior. Yeah, I would have rather had a cheeky grin lighting up his face, instead of the lividness washing him out.

"I don't need you moved to another platoon," I attempted to redirect the conversation to a less pathetic outcome, and George didn't seem to oppose. "I just need you to be careful and take care of yourself." Still no response; my heart sunk deeper if that was even possible. "I've lost too many friends already. Can't lose another one."

"How long?"

"What'd you mean?"

"How long have you known?"

"I don't know." I folded my arms and recoiled from the man in front of me, actively avoiding to meet his gaze. "I think... Maybe Normandy. When we regrouped."

Normandy, D-Day plus 3

"Look who decided to show up, Floyd!" Luz and Liebgott went straight to the Sergeant walking a few steps ahead of me and Shifty, ready to compare their trophies and souvenirs.

It wasn't until Talbert folded his newly acquired poncho that the boys became aware of us.

"Well, would you look at that." Lieb smacked George's shoulder with the back of his hand before nodding in my direction.

"Sorry fellas," Floyd feigned an apology. "But I figured I just couldn't show up without our medic. Right, Luz?"

If there was a situation in which George would not match the banter thrown at him, that was the one. Instead, he stood still with widened eyes.

"What? Cat's got your tongue?" I questioned, approaching the group with the sniper trailing after me.

"Oh, she bites now." Lieb snickered. "That's fun."

Still no response from Luz, apart from the shocked expression. I was about to taunt him again when he shoved Tab aside and engulfed me in a hug, one that took me a hot second to reciprocate.

"Where the hell have you been?" He limited himself to ask, breath fanning on the crook of my neck.

"Missed the DZ by four miles." My explanation sounded restrained due to the tight embrace. "Took a while to walk 'em."

"Thought you didn't make it." He murmured, this time only for me to hear. "If you scare me like that again I'll kill ya."

Peeking over his shoulder, I caught the knowing eyes of our comrades. Either Luz was unaware or didn't care enough. I myself had other things to focus on, such as the butterflies in my tummy or the scary feeling swelling up my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why didn't you tell me?" His question hid something I couldn't quite decipher, although the gleam in his eyes could be worked out as a clue.

I shrugged, trying to play off the conversation I had been avoiding for months due to fear. "Why would I?"

He shrugged too, and, after opening his mouth a couple of times without getting a word out, I assume he was at a loss for words.

"I feel like we went off the topic here." I stated, once more trying to redirect the conversation, and once more failing to do so.

"Did you mean it?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhaled deeply. George Luz really had a gift for driving me mad. "Can we move on from that? 'Cause at this point we're dragging the conversation and I'm-"

"You should've told me earlier."

I finally met his eyes with an exasperated look.

"Would that change anything?"

"I could've done something about it."

"Like what?"

He hesitated for a moment, darting a quick glance at my lips I nearly didn't catch before closing the space between us, his hands cupping my cheeks with a featherlight touch.

Just like in Normandy, it took me a moment to react; only that this time I wasn't fast enough and George slipped away from my grasp and took a step back.

"Where d'you think you're going?" I snapped, once again clutching his coat, this time for a very different purpose than minutes ago.

As my mouth found his again, deepening the kiss with my fingers entangled in his unusually long locks and the sides of my coat bunched up in his fists, I wondered if I had really found out I loved him in Normandy.

All from sudden, the feeling that I had known it from the very first corny pick-up line he had thrown at me back in Toccoa washed over me.

Either by the long awaited kiss or by the overwhelming emotions, it was my turn to pull away in order to catch my breath.

"Could've saved me a lot of teasing, y'know?" He mumbled, letting his forehead rest on mine for an instant. "Having everyone and their mother poking fun at me was pretty embarrassing."

"You really are an idiot."

That tore a quiet laugh out of him. A genuine one. It seemed to be so long since that had happened.

"I love you too, by the way."

"Oh, I think I got the memo."

Another laugh. His stupid grin. His cheeky demeanor. All of it made him lit up a little bit. My thumb caressed his face, and it occurred to me that maybe what George Luz really needed was to feel loved.

Lucky him, I wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

[lonelytunesblog]

What I loved about Under Paris (apart from Adil Faez, of course) was how the movie threw a glaring spotlight on what could happen if the present day crisis (read: climate change and pollution) met the catastrophic legacy left by the world war era—in this case, live artillery shells in River Seine.

The movie is so right in portraying politicians as money and power-hogging machines who refuse to see beyond dollar bills and global hegemony. What leaves an indelible mark, however, is how the only generation that is serious about saving the planet and those inhabiting it ends up facing the deadly brunt of the politicians’ brash decisions.

And I love the movie because it conveys a moving message but it’s also sad to know that it could one day translate into reality—maybe not so cinematically, but the pace at which capitalism and neocolonialism are destroying the world, who’s to say?

[ladylucksrogue]

OUHH PROMPTS!! hello!! Can I get 25 for codywan pretty please? I love seeing them flustered sjfhdh. There's nothing quite as exciting as pining while having a misunderstanding lol

Thank you so much for the ask and sorry for the delay. Hope it was worth the wait! I love seeing these two get flustered too. Although this is a bit more one-sided pining and flustered. Cody's a bit of an unreliable narrator here though, haha Prompt: kiss that's an accident

Cody was in a perpetual state of exhaustion so deep that even caf had stopped working. He figured nothing short of a lightning strike would revive him.  There was little hope of that.  Not on a world as dry as this one. He made a final sweep of the camp, ensuring everything had the semblance of order in the chaos.

His tent was being set up by a few well-meaning troopers, and at some point, he’d probably drag himself into it, faceplant on his bedroll, and try to sleep. For now, the rock he crouched down in front of would have to do. He leaned back against it, feeling a creak, whether from his armor or his joints, he wasn’t entirely sure. Everything ached.

With a sigh, he removed his helmet, letting the dusty air hit his face as he settled against the rock. His helmet stayed within easy reach, but for now, he closed his eyes.

At some point, a distant boom shook him awake. He scrambled for his helmet, more asleep than alert, when a hand on his arm stilled him. Blinking blearily, Cody turned and found himself staring at the General.

“General?” It spoke volumes about his level of exhaustion that he hadn’t noticed Obi-Wan approaching. The Jedi had made himself comfortable, sitting next to Cody with a datapad and a cup of tea.

“At ease,” Obi-Wan said softly, his eyes bright even in the dim light, both amused and concerned.

“Artillery?” Cody managed to ask.

“Several klicks out, according to imagery. We’re safe for now. Rest,” Obi-Wan assured him.

Cody relaxed, but only slightly. Another shell echoed through the night. “They’ll do that all night. They know we need sleep.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, lips quirking into that little smile that said, Business as usual. And it was. Nothing new. So Cody tried, once more leaning back and closing his eyes, waiting for the next thing that demanded his attention.

Maybe it was a blast that initially woke him. But it was the realization that he was leaning heavily against Obi-Wan’s shoulder that really shook him awake. His eyes snapped open. How had that happened? Had Obi-Wan moved closer? Had he? It should have been uncomfortable, awkward even, but it wasn’t. Not really.

Somehow, his head had come to rest against Obi-Wan’s shoulder in such a way that he’d actually slept soundly. For once.

But now, they were too close. Cody could smell the faint trace of Obi-Wan’s aftershave, the familiar smell of tea, and something else, was that beard oil? Did he use beard oil? His beard did look soft. Cody shut down that thought immediately. He had no business thinking about his General’s beard when artillery was lighting up the sky somewhere near camp. Or ever really.

Then Obi-Wan shifted, turning his head as if to say something, probably to reassure Cody that they were still safe. But another blast hit closer, and Obi-Wan flinched, as did he. Instead of words, his lips brushed against Cody’s cheek. Their noses brushed, and for a moment, everything stilled.

Time stopped. Cody’s heart slammed against his ribs as a rush of breath left his lungs, louder than the artillery, louder than anything. His focus tunneled in on Obi-Wan, on the warmth of his lips, and the eyes locked onto his own. Eyes that looked like waves flecked with green.

Cody wanted to apologize, to make some excuse. But that would mean acknowledging it, admitting that he wasn’t sorry at all.

A flash of light burst overhead, and General, composed as ever, smiled that infuriating smile of his, like battle was a game he enjoyed.

“Duty calls,” Obi-Wan said, as if nothing had happened. He stood and offered his hand to Cody, his comm buzzing urgently.

Cody took the offered hand, still feeling the warmth on his face as he was pulled to his feet. He slipped his helmet back on, trying to shake off the moment, but he couldn’t. Even as the battle loomed and the night pressed on, one thought remained.

He'd been right. His beard was soft.

[bellewintersroe]

How the Easy Boys Act during Bastogne x reader headcanons.

So I wanted to explore about how each of the different boys would handle being in a relationship during Bastogne. I want to try keep this (semi) realistic especially surrounding the rules of fraternisation in the army. Ps - I hope you guys enjoy! I love writing headcanons but struggle with motivation so feel free to send me requests of any headcannons/ scenarios you guys wanna see!

Eugene Roe:

Let’s start with the most notable boy within the Bastogne episodes. Gene goes through so much as a medic, although he’s so selfless throughout his whole experience.

I think because he’s already worrying about so many of the men getting hurt he’s also got the anxiety of worrying if you’re safe.

after a heavy artillery barrage he would pray for your health and safety. And I mean that. He’s a good Catholic boy (I think) so he probably does this morning and night.

whenever he has chance/ a safe opportunity he would come to see you. I think he’d feel guilty about coming empty handed, and when there’s other people around his gestures have to be small, such as knocking your hand or arm with his.

The more under pressure he becomes the more you’d see it. I think he’d be so stressed, his shell shock is evident and it’s painful to see as a partner. I think he’d even attempt to pull away to a certain extent before he realised that would do no good.

probably gets really bad anxiety if you’re exposed to the gunfire, and definitely wants to protect you from seeing some of the horrific scenes that you’d most undoubtedly see anyway.

puts a hand in front of you if you’re walking to fast. He’d never just randomly sneak off with you just to have ‘alone time’ because he’s aware of the risks. He’d never EVER gamble with your life- holy shit until you get outta there he’s a panicked mess.

Needs a partner who can talk to him, even if he doesn’t feel like opening up, just knowing you’d semi understand is reassuring.

finally is able to give you the biggest bear hug of all time behind a half bombed out building. It’s kinda emotional and longing, but Gene would sigh into your hair or your shoulder, and tighten his grip when he realised how desperately he’d needed your love and comfort.

you’d be a real comfort to him in Bastogne, however during the actual battle of the bulge I think he’d be very overworked on the lines. Even if you are on the lines he fears for you and always tries his best to get you further towards some kinda safer area.

Carwood Lipton:

Alike Eugene, he’s under an immense amount of pressure.

somehow he manages to keep morale up, and seeing you safe everyday and just flashing him an smile would really send a sense of relief and comfort through him.

like he seriously has even more motivation to fight and come home safe, because if you.

it sounds cheesy, ik, but Lip is a man deeply in love and he couldn’t forget that even if he tried.

strictly professional, ok. So no sneaky business… the furthest your relationship probably gets in Bastogne is smiles of reassurance and lingering touches on the upper back.

like you get knocked over and winded once, Lipton practically scrambles over and collapses next to you, pulling you up out of the snow with the most horrified expression.

nah he’d be so good at calming you down and helps you take deep breaths. His hand would be soothing over your upper back, and when nobody’s looking he maybe, maybe might sneak a kiss on your cheek.

so soft and caring. Seriously. You’re the first person he looks for after any serious bombing.

Babe Heffron:

So I think there’s Babe before Julian’s death and then Babe after his friends death.

before he’s pretty good at keeping morale up, he’s kinda fidgety and nervous, but for the most part he just wants to make you smile. Would do his utter most to cheer you up, even if it’s just making a little snow man for you.

Ah he’d be so cute. He’s like a big kid at heart and he’d have this big, longing eyes watching you wherever you went. He feels comfortable knowing you’re within a distance that you can see one another. People know you two have a relationship, but for the sake of rules and regulations it’s kept under wraps.

After Julian however, you’d kinda say ‘scrap the rules’ and sneak off to where you know is Foxhole is. It’s him and Spina, but you sneak in and hug his arm, whispering words of reassurance.

when Gene comes in you’d kinda panic, but you realise it’s only him so it’s not bad. He ain’t no snitch.

I think Babe would become mentally tougher after Julian’s death- well he comes across like this, but he wouldn’t wanna talk about what happened with you because he knows it would make him into a wreck.

hates crying and being vulnerable in front of you so probably tells you to ‘go away’ but IMMEDIATELY takes it back omfg.

would try to hide in foxholes with you just so he can at least have some well needed comfort from his girl that makes everything better.

Don Malarkey:

I think similar to Babe he’s a lot different when he first goes to Bastogne compared to when he leaves. (As many of the guys understandably would be).

but he’s the funny guy, he’s popular, he’s witty and hilarious, not to forget he’d be such a gentleman with you. Literally so kind and gentle. He’d always walk across the forest to come see you, every single day- no fail.

All the other nurses or women think it’s soooo romantic, even though you two are usually just sat talking. (He’d deffo sneak a kiss or two in there).

so when he loses several of his closest buddies in such a short amount of time, he goes into a deep shock, and although the visits don’t stop, you can tell he’s a shell of what he once was.

I think Don would really crave that physical comfort, like hugging him, stroking his hair- but it’s soo difficult to get that level of privacy, especially out in the open. I think this is something that you could struggle with as a couple.

Malarkey would have these great big sad, puppy eyes and you’d practically just have to bear hug him at the most random times. He’s so soft- I can’t.

Everybody knows the shit Malarkey has been through, they understand, so if they see you two embracing they turned a blind eye to it- nobody is about to snitch.

Lewis Nixon:

Ok so I feel like you and Lewis would be stationed in different areas. Like you’d be further back/ forwards on the line? Maybe stationed in the town?

anyway this makes it increasingly difficult to see one another, and I think Lewis has a real, niggling anxiety about your health and safety.

like at night he’d struggle to sleep over the thought of you being as cold as he is.

I think he’d feel so detached from your relationship, and there’s nothing neither of you can do/ prioritise in such a horrific situation.

when you two are around each other there’s always soft, subtle gestures that are sorta toned down versions of the way you both really want to act.

Maybe Lewis sees your shrunken appearance for the first time in a week or two, and he’s watching you with massively sad eyes, he’s bringing you into where him and Winters stay, offering you food, coffee.

He’d probably question why they’re not taking care of you better, but it’s kinda like? There is nobody to really take care of you, everybody’s in the same boat and Lewis hates it.

Has to settle for giving you friendly side hugs but all he really wants to do is wrap you up in a blanket and huddle you to somewhere safer, warmer, better than this.

he probably just wants a cuddle :/.

Joe Liebgott:

I think at first Joe would play by the rules because you wanted to. Like you’re worried of getting into trouble and want to be cautious with expressing your relationship too openly.

So he’d go a long with it at first, but I can imagine him stopping by your foxhole or wherever you’re stationed, even just to walk past and give you a smile. He 100% looks out for you, and if he doesn’t see you he’s like, “hey where tf is she? She was here yesterday?!” “She’s washing her hair, Liebgott…”

I feel like something might happen? Let’s say you get wounded, it’s nothing too severe, but it’s a close call. After that Joe is literally like “fuck the rules” and would come hop into your foxhole.

even if there’s other people in there, he just wants to make sure you’re ok at the end of the day.

when he can be alone with you I think he’d cover the foxhole with a blanket and practically throw himself around you. Kisses you loads, and he can barely do it properly because he’s got this childlike grin wiped across his face.

I think it really makes a difference to Liebgott that he can spend time with you, it’s so cold and miserable out there, that he takes anything he can get, and cuddling with you is his fav way to warm up, aw.

maybe gets roaming hands at one point and you have to be like “Joe, we’re sat in a hole surrounded by Germans, are you really trying this on rn?”

obviously Joe gets taken off the line during Bastogne because he’s quite literally at his breaking point. (Me and @liebgotts-lovergirl have just been discussing Lieb actually so all credit to her as it’s given me inspo!)

He’s so stressed out and it would be painful to see, I think he’d fully avoid taking it out on you because that would make him feel like the worlds worst person, but at the same time all he was is a stupid frickin hug and sometimes it’s so difficult to get.

please go visit him when he’s taken off the line, it’ll be a lot easier and god knows Lieb needs it 🥺

Would be so soft and happy with you if you surprise visited/ snuck up on him omg.

Shifty Powers:

This boy is soooo respectful, ok. He’s caring, kind, sweet, but respect is his utter most priority.

so I don’t think he’d be flaunting your relationship out and about in Bastogne? Seriously there’s more heavier things to focus on.

BUT Shifty 100% thinks about you and your relationship every single day. Like Gene, I think he prays for your safety, he’s constantly on the look out for danger- but also now he’s watching danger surrounding you.

war can be a dangerous place to have distractions such as a relationship, it’s nothing personal, but Shifty fears if he loses focus something bad will happen to those around him.

when the coast is clear and he’s not putting anybody into danger, he’d always be so polite and come over to ask if you’re ok. He’d help you dig out your foxhole some more and you’d patch him up or get him new gloves in return.

he’d be eternally grateful, and then probably try to put the gloves on you instead because he’s worried your fingers are gonna fall off hahaha.

when you leave Bastogne and have privacy again Shifty cuddles you sosososos much, there’s so much hand holding and small kisses- he’s 10000% gonna make up for lost time.

Ron Speirs:

I’m gonna be honest IDEK HOW YOUD GET IN A RELARIONSHIP WITB HIM INNTHE FIRST OKACE.

He’s so sexy and intimidating, but especially during the war his mind would NOT be on dating. But let’s assume it is, ok?

I think Ron has no option but to stay focused, you technically are his weakness, so whenever he sees you he has a difficult time maintaining his demeanour.

small things like ‘But she’s alright, right?’ And just asking where you guys are stationed fill him with relief.

when he thinks about you all alone in that foxhole he gets the sweats, he starts shaking and he feels pathetic, but it’s the only time he’d allow himself to feel that way. He must operate like a soldier, not like a little boy in love.

it’s just very conflicting, because he is very much deeply in love, he just can’t show it.

when you get time alone after Bastogne I think Ron almost breaks down. His head would drop and he’s pulling you into his arms, apologising unnecessarily.

everybody's under such an immense amount of pressure, so I feel like he’d need some good words of reassurance, but also he’d just need a longgggg hug to embrace the comfort you provide him with.

Skip Muck:

Nothing bad happens to him ok? Let’s just pretend here for the sake of a fic.

he’s a ray of sunshine, but I think he’d be so amazing at reading peoples thoughts and feelings, especially yours. So when he can see you’re particularly more upset than usual, he grabs you, preventing you from leaving with everybody else and takes your hand, pulling you into a gentle forehead kiss.

I think he’d be better with his actions rather than words, so sometimes all he needs to do is cup your face and just gaze over you before you’d fall into his chest in relief.

thank god you’ve got a guy like Skip, he’d look out for you so much, keep your morale up, and like Babe, I think he’d do super cute stuff like attempt to make you a little snowman to pass time and avert your minds from immanent danger.

Writes about you to his family at home.

probably wants to keep you well and fed. All the rations are slim, but he would save you his or sneak you some more food, seriously he’s so caring over your health and well-being.

Joe Toye:

He’s so handsomeeee oh my-

so I think there’d be a lot of lingering and longing gazes. When you first go to Bastogne, he’s probs wanting your attention so bad for more selfish reasons? If you can call normal boyfriend tendency’s ‘selfish’.

but when things very quickly become more severe and traumatising, those longing gazes turn into ones of sadness and care.

he’d really watch out for you, and he’d never let you walk anywhere unless he was there, or he’d at least offer.

“I’m gonna go into the town for a couple hours today, Joe.”

“That’s a good idea, keepin’ yourself nice and safe away from the lines, baby.”

wants you protected and safe at all costs so I think he’d ask people like Guarnere and Malarkey, those he’s closest to, to watch out for you when he can’t.

grabs your belt holes to pull you to safety, at times he’d be tempted to lift you over his shoulder and carry you to safety, he wouldn’t live with himself if anything bad happened to you.

when he does get badly wounded, you’re both in shock, it all happens so quick and Joe is so upset when you stumble on the scene and have to see him like that.

He feels bad for seeing you so upset? Like you’re traumatised and he can’t sleep that night without images of your sad, paled face in his mind.

he’s worried he’s somehow scared you off?? The extent of his injuries are horrific, but he’s still alive. He’d be worried about you every second until you are allowed to finally come visit him.

oh my god, he’d be so so relieved. A little worried, but genuinely at peace to see that you’re safe and okay.

Alton More:

Big sweetheart, a little naughty so kinda plays around the rules. Like fraternisation? Idk her, I’m in 3rd platoon and she’s in 2nd sooo stuff your fraternisation rules.

smirks at you, especially when he sees you all wrapped up in the coat he stole for you. He’s never been happier than seeing you warm.

1000% would attempt to sneak into your foxhole? I just think he’s not good at being sneaky however and gets caught and told to go back to his own foxhole.

gets worried tho when he sees you’ve given your coat to a more injured soldier, he hurried over and he’s wrapping his arms around you, worried as to why your lips are so blue and your teeth are chattering.

“damn it y/n, I think you’re turning into a little ice cube.”

When his hands are warm he sticks them under your shirt to warm up your skin, opposing when he usually sticks his cold hands into your warm shirt. He’s not that cruel however, especially not in god damn Bastogne.

Has a bit of a mental breakdown because he thinks you’re wounded when he can’t find you, like he fully freaks tf out, but he’s engulfing you in a HUGE bear hug when he finds out safe as sound. (You were just singing in a foxhole with Alley and Liebgott).

seriously a massive sweetheart tho, steals chocolate for you, attempts to somehow mix the chocolate and the snow to make you ‘chocolate ice cream’ it kinda flops but it’s so cute.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Though tightly squeezed and under heavy fire, Easy held its ground. The Germans did not enter Nuenen. As the sky drew dark, Winters, badly outnumbered, finally ordered his men to withdraw. A short distance west of the village, a line of American deuce-and-a-half trucks waited for them, as did Lewis Nixon. He had been with Easy when it ran into the Germans. Knowing Winters would need help, he made his way back to battalion and ordered up the trucks. “Thought maybe you could use a ride,” Nixon said to Winters as his friend approached. Exhausted, Winters could only smile and nod. The wounded were loaded on the trucks and Winters led the rest back to Eindhoven on foot.[...]

Winters and Nixon returned to the church belfry and looked to the south. Although Holland is basically flat, Uden is about twenty feet higher than Veghel in elevation, and the two men had a grandstand seat for the battle. Winters gazed in fascination at the desperate struggle raging just a few miles away. He watched German tanks roll forward in battle formation while Luftwaffe planes strafed the ground ahead of them. The roar of artillery and the incessant rattle of small arms fire echoed across the fields while tracers blazed through the sky. Moments later the observers became the observed as an artillery shell whooshed by the bell tower. Winters and Nixon raced down the stairway. “I don’t think our feet touched the steps more than two or three times,” Winters later reflected. Back on the street, Winters prepared the men for a possible attack, but Uden remained unmolested.[...]

A dull clang to Winters’ left drew his attention. Nixon, a stunned look on his face, removed his helmet. A machine gun bullet had pierced the metal shell near the front, deflected, and exited at the side. It had left a burn mark on the left side of his forehead, but did not break the skin. Nixon would be one of the few Easy Company men to go through the entire war and never get the Purple Heart. “Are you okay, Nix?” Winters asked urgently. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, mildly dazed and feeling his forehead for blood. Finding none, he put the damaged helmet back on his head.[...]

Winters had stopped firing with the darkness, not wanting to give away his position through muzzle flashes. Sometime around midnight, Winters heard engine noises on the road ahead and the distinct clank of tank treads. He hoped the Germans were pulling out, but he held his line, waiting for daylight. As he listened to the noises, he looked at Nixon, who was huddled next to him. Somehow his friend had procured a bottle of schnapps and was in the process of finishing it off. “Where the hell do you find this stuff?” Winters asked in a low tone. Nixon waved the bottle at him drunkenly and said, “Never underestimate the resources of a man in need.” Winters shook his head in disapproval. He would not take this kind of behavior from any other man and was not sure why he tolerated it from Nixon. But he knew Nixon would be there doing his job when needed.

~ Larry Alexander

[himbeereule]

Орлёнок (Eaglet) Battle System - Dev Diary #4

"Don't worry, the regular dev diary will publish this evening" she said, and vanished for 8 days.

Sorry.

Brain is being very difficult. At least I'm still somehow alive.

But onto actually interesting (I hope) things-

4.1 Initiative - cont'd

Examples for how Initiative works have already been given in the last Dev Diary (under 3.2), but I'd like to make a few additions. What makes Initiative go up or down? is a question as of yet unanswered and also ties into the main theme of this Dev Diary.

The main source of high Initiative are charges, meaning a melee attack on another unit. But that's not guaranteed to work - Terrain plays an important factor here, with difficult terrain such as towns/cities or, worse, a forest significantly reducing the effectiveness of a charge due to stuff being in the way, making it difficult to maintain momentum. Cavalry, which is generally best at charges, suffers the most from these.

Charging uphill is also not the best idea - you can guess why. But at least the opposite is also true: charging downhill is extra effective.

Then, there's charging across a river. Not a very good idea usually, so try to avoid it unless it's a really desperate situation. In real world terms, even shallow water that can be traversed without the need for barges etc. will significantly slow down your troops and, in the worst case, make them arrive on the other side in small groups. The enemy waiting there likes that.

And finally, there's the dynamic factor that is the hostile troops you're charging at. If they moved normally the turn before, it's fine, there's no special modifiers. But if they remained stationary, it's assumed they found some stuff to hide behind, dug some holes, maybe placed some pointy sticks or barbed wire, maybe even just laid down. In short, they'll be prepared. Which will give them a bonus to Initiative when charged. However - you can attack them with artillery beforehand, which will make them suppressed and lower their Initiative accordingly and effectively neutralize the preparation bonus.

4.2 Morale and Commitment

Morale is... exactly what it sounds like. It measures how happy your soldiers are to run around and shoot at their own countrymen.

It's decided by many factors - Divisions have a unified morale value at the beginning of the battle, which is influenced by things decided beforehand - previous victories and losses, relative strength (how strong the Division is compared to your other Divisions, and how strong your army is compared to the enemy army in this particular battle) and things happening in the story. It also changes during the flow of the battle - winning fights against enemy units is good, taking casualties is not so good. Some special weapons like flamethrowers or poison gas are also very much not good for the morale of the receiving side. And even if a unit is just standing in the back lobbing shells all over the place (looking at you, artillerists), its morale will suffer if your other units get slaughtered and it seems like the battle will be lost.

But what does morale actually do? Well, higher morale means better coordination rate. Conversely, a panicked and depressed unit will have a hard time coordinating. But that's just one half of it - to understand the other, we must first look at Commitment.

Commitment simply means how many of your units are actually taking part in fights, instead of just standing around on the field. It's a counter of how many units have fought in melee this turn (ranged attacks do not count; you'll see why in the next paragraph).

Now, if the enemy's overall morale (average value of all units combined, rounded down) hits 0, but commitment is also at 0 - meaning there are no enemy units currently tied up in melee - the enemy force will retreat in an orderly fashion, ending the battle without further casualties. If, however, morale is at 0 and commitment is not, the enemy will have to flee, which, narratively, means unengaged units will rush to save their still-fighting brethren, and as soon as they can run away as fast as they can. This means additional casualties for the fleeing side depending on how high their commitment was.

But the battle may also end when morale is low, though not yet zero - and that is if commitment is greater zero and the relative strength of the opposing force is at least 1.5:1 - in other words, if side A has 50% stronger forces than side B, and side B has both low morale and units tied up in melee, side B will capitulate. This is basically the most valuable outcome to reach, because you will get all the remaining enemies' stuff and a lot of prisoners - in normal conditions, only a small (or, in the case of the enemy fleeing, a medium-sized portion) of additional enemy casualties will become prisoners instead of casualties. This is important because prisoners become recruitable manpower over time.

That's it for today. Sorry again for the long wait.

The next Dev Diary will be the last one, and probably quite short - it deals with the meaning of Victory in battles.

[ashinbloom]

Mechvore 1

Your head is pounding as you blink awake, the distant sound of artillery shell explosions and gunfire slowly filtering in. You squint and hold your head as your vision slowly comes into focus. Where are you? What happened? You were on a transport with your squad, you think, en route to rendezvous with the Mech division.

Shouting.

Panic.

Explosion?

Was the transport attacked? You decide you can hash it out later when you get to safety. You were expecting another hour on the transport so you weren’t geared out, but your pistol… You pat your hip and sigh. You left your pistol in your bunk.

You try your radio, but get no response. Only static. Your legs still work, as far as you can tell, so you decide to hoof it until you can get a read on the situation. Maybe reach higher ground and get a signal. So you start walking.

You’re still a ways off from the fighting, but that’s your safest bet. Ironic, you think, that running into gunfire and explosions is the safe option, but you push those thoughts aside. The forest, or maybe it could be considered a jungle, is quiet but that doesn’t mean it’s desolate. You march on for some time, wary of every twig or feather flutter you hear over the sounds of war, until you hear an unsettling but familiar sound. Your blood runs cold as you spin around, trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from. It could be anywhere, the way it’s echoing around you, but the sound is unmistakable.

A Mech.

You had been enamored with the Mech division when you joined up with the Corps. They were the best of the best behind the helms of giant, cutting edge, bipedal war machines that served as paragons of everything the Corps stood for. You were so excited when you passed the exams, when you were deemed to have a compatible personality profile, when you watched the live fire demonstrations. You were going to be a Mech Pilot and you were so ready.

Until you learned what being a Mech Pilot means.

The mechanical tromping gets closer and closer still, and you scramble in what you think is the opposite direction and hunker down on the other side of an embankment. You keep your head down, feeling the ground shudder under you and against your back as it gets closer. Closer. Closer. Wincing with each step until it stops. You can’t help but foolishly peek up over the bank.

There it is. An old FX Series Mech. It stands in the clearing, its back to you, but you can see its blue laser grid scanning wherever it looks as it scans from left to right as it says “Searching for Pilot.”

You duck back down, grabbing the pendant on your necklace and trying to breathe calmly and quietly. Perhaps you pray, if you’re that sort of person or just the desperate type. In any case, you just hope that it doesn’t find you.

You watch as the grid comes into your view on the thicket of trees to your left, slowly panning rightward. You hold yourself, make yourself as small as you physically can, as the grid moves in your direction. But you’re in luck and you can see where the grid picks up, leaving you hidden in the shadow of the embankment. You still hold your breath, though.

To your relief, the grid passes right over you. You stay still, daring not even to breathe as you listen to the Mech’s hydraulics and servos and its foodpads in the dirt as it walks away.

You let out a sigh of relief and before you can even get it out you gasp in shock. The grid is back over your position and a burning red.

“Acquiring Pilot candidate,” the Mech says. The FX series always had a synthesized voice that was pleasing to you, soothing. Maybe even a bit arousing, if you were being completely honest. But now it’s the most terrifying sound in the world. You clamber to your feet, scrambling as you dive away just in time to avoid the massive metal hand demolishing the bank you were hiding behind.

You bound across the stones in the creek, slipping from them half way across and trodding with sodden boots to the other side and into the treeline. The FX pursues you, a deluge of water spilling from the creek as it stomps through and onto the shore behind you. You make your way further into the forest, running toward the sound of gunfire the whole time, hoping that the trees will slow the Mech, or at least obscure you from its scanners.

The sound of cracking timber and grinding metal behind you tells you that your hopes were in vain.

You barely manage to dive away from a falling tree as its shadow grows around you, adrenaline allowing you to push yourself back to your feet as quickly as you hit the forest floor. The natural flow of the land funnels you downhill between two peaks as you run for your life. You don’t know where you are or where you’re going, but eventually, you run against a craggy rock wall. You try to jump and reach the ledge, you try to climb the jagged rock face.

You can’t.

You freeze as the red gridlines of the FX Mech’s scanner trace up your body, silhouetting you against the wall.

“Pilot candidate acquired,” its smoky synthesized voice affirms that you’ve nowhere left to run. Nowhere to hide.

You slowly turn around, hands raised about your shoulders to show you’re not a threat. You aren’t a threat, after all. “Please, I’m not a pilot,” your run-ravaged voice ekes out.

The Mech’s scanning field narrows around you. “Evaluating Pilot candidate.”

“I’m not a pilot!” your voice croaks out, as loud as you can make it. “I don’t want to be a pilot!”

“Irrelevant,” the mech’s disturbingly alluring voice says, “This unit requires biofuel.”

“I don’t care!” you plead, “Just… just let me go.”

The mech remains silent as it stands before you, its scan field shifting from red to green as it traces up one leg, briefly turning red again where it moves over your trick knee, then stays green as it traces up the other leg, up your torso, and down your arms. The light seems to sparkle and flash as you look into the single standard “eye” of the FX Series Mech as it scans your head. It feels like an entire rainbow flashes by before the scanner turns off.

“Candidate compatibility: Eight-seven percent,” the synthetic voice says. “Congratulations, Pilot.”

“No, no!” You press yourself against the wall, holding your hands out defensively. As if they’d be any defense against a war machine. “I’m not a pilot! I don’t want to be a pilot.”

“Irrelevant. The Pilot requires protection.”

“I don’t want your damn protection!”

“Irrelevant.”

The FX lowers itself while white steam rises from a seam around its front. A terrible stench like burnt meat and rot permeates the air as the hatch to the cockpit loses its hermetic seal. The mch leans forward, the hatch turning into a ramp as if it expects you to just climb inside. When it does, a gut-wrenching rattle rings out as the yellowed bones of the previous pilot tumble down the diamond steel walkway to the ground in front of you. You quiver where you stand, the soaked insole of your boot squelching with every bounce.

You know you can’t escape. You know it’s useless. It doesn’t stop you from trying. You run to the right, only for the Mech’s hand to slam into the rock wall beside you. You run left, and the other hand misses you by a hair’s breadth.

“Stop, please!”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears as the hands close around you, lifting you from the ground.

“Please remain calm, Pilot.”

You can barely even manage a feeble ‘I’m not a pilot.’ as you’re shoved into the cockpit and everything goes dark.

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

The End (Daniels)

***An alternative universe where sledgehammer killed off everyone but Daniels Saving-Private-Ryan-style. AKA- what would’ve happened had my mother been part of the writing staff. Note: Events in this story are different than the canon storyline (duh). Slight *puke warning*! Implied *Self-Deletion*! Do not read if that’ll be upsetting!***

He had to find him. Robert Zussman- his best friend, the last one left from his platoon, the man he vowed to fight to the end with, the person he cared about most in the world (besides his wife and child of course)- had been taken by the Nazi’s nearly four months earlier.

He’d been beside him for so long. He grieved the loss of their other friends with him. He’d given him words of encouragement when he found out he was going to be a father. He’d helped patch him up after a long day of battles. He’d been there for him through thick and thin, and the least he could do was go save him now. If only he could’ve saved the others…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles had perished storming the beach. The poor man had seen the shell dropping and tried to jump out of the way, but he was too late. The bomb dropped right on top of him, sending him flying.

Zussman and Aiello had gotten to him first, and were surprised to find him still alive, glasses smashed, his legs below the knees gone. They’d tried to tourniquet them, but it was no use. The man had bled out less than a minute later crying for his ma. Apologizing to the air. Saying he was sorry it had to end this way.

He’d taken his last breath in Zussman’s arms, trying to tell him to tell his ma he loved her and would miss her.

The poor chap never got the chance to finish his sentence before his heart stopped. Daniels took his camera off his body, promising himself he’d send it back to his ma when he got the chance. From what Stiles had said of her, she’d want the thing to remember him by.

That poor woman. She’d already lost two of her five children in a car accident several year prior. Now she had lost yet another one to a dictator hungry for power.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pierson was lost when the church had collapsed at Marigny. Aiello was with Jones taking out the AA Guns when German artillery started hitting the church. Once the building started coming down they’d all rushed to get out of it. Daniels had gotten knocked off the ladder when the bell fell and lay dazed on the floor under a fallen rafter.

Zussman, determined to help his friend, stayed back and helped pry off the piece of wood and get Daniels on his feet costing them precious time. The sergeant had yelled at them to keep moving. Quickly, before the building came down. By the time Zuss had gotten himself and Daniels to the door, the building was coming down on their heads.

Pierson, in one heroic action, grabbed both men and threw them out of the building and onto the street to safety. The last last thing the two soldiers saw was their Sergeant looking up in horror as the building collapsed, trapping him beneath the rubble.

Once they cleared the street, the remaining men dug through the remnants of the building for him, hoping that maybe he could be alive. It was in vain, as they found no trace of their commander in the rubble.

Pierson had a wife and two young sons back home. Sons that would now grow up without a father. In a way, Daniels blamed himself. If he hadn’t gotten trapped, perhaps Pierson would still be alive.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They had lost Aiello and Turner on the same day just minutes apart, something that made their deaths seem the worst out of all of them.

It was the same day he’d gotten the news that he was going to be a father. Aiello had teased him about it most of the morning to the point where he had snapped at him. Something that Daniels deeply regretted now. He’d take back his hash words to the man and laugh with him. Tease him back perhaps.

Turner had sent Aiello along with second platoon as they were a few men short. They all thought they’d be fine. Apparently not.

From what Daniels heard from the other men, Aiello- forever stubborn- had run ahead when they heard a singular shot ring out. Whether from a German or from Aiello they had no idea.

Daniels found out when he climbed the hill to find Aiello lying dead in the mud, a singular gunshot wound to the chest. There was no time to grieve him. No time for a even a prayer for him to reach heaven. The had to keep moving.

All he had wanted was to get home and throw himself headfirst into a music career.

“Forget Frank Sinatra! Frank Aiello is the next heartthrob, boys! I’m gonna top the billboards!”

He’d never get the chance to find out if that was true, his drum set back home now sitting forever unused.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Turner was gone just a few minutes after Aiello. In some ways his was the hardest hitting of all, as he had given his life for the men to escape. But Daniels blamed himself, as Turner had been helping him up when he was shot in the back.

Turner insisted they leave him behind. To retreat while he held them off.

“No sacrifice too great,” he told Daniels managing a weak smile. In his opinion, this was too great a sacrifice. Turner had a wife and three children back home. With this one action, he was making her a widow and his three children fatherless.

Turner commanded them to go yet again. Zussman had grabbed him by the arm and ran. He had been forced to watch as Turner was inevitably shot dead by the Germans and lay lifeless in the middle of a German forest.

His family would never get to see his final resting place or say their last goodbyes. He was yet another casualty of this terrible war.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Zussman was the last one left from the first platoon besides Daniels himself, which made finding him even more urgent.

Zuss was the only one who knew just how much they had suffered. How much loss they had endured. How lonely the nights got once everyone was gone. The nights they’d console each other from memories plaguing their minds. Nobody knew like they did. He needed to find him. If he were to turn up less than alive…

He pushed the thought out of his head. He’d be alive. He’d be ok. They’d go back to the states together and maybe he could move Zussman in. Hazel would be ok with it. He could be an uncle to the baby and earn his keep helping out with chores on the farm. He’d suggest it to him when he found him.

He didn’t wait for the truck to stop before jumping out and running into the camp, screaming Zussman’s name. Maybe he’d hear. Maybe he’d answer. As he ran through the camp, he soon realized that it had been deserted and not too long before. He hoped, prayed, that Zuss was still alive. Unfortunately that prayer was not to be answered.

He looked up passing the gallows, noticing there was a man hanging there. He stood and stared, wondering how people could do this to their fellow humans when suddenly the horror dawned on him.

“Zussman! No!” He screamed, climbing up onto the platform to cut his friend down.

It was too late. Zussman was gone. He picked up his best friend and held him in his arms, his body was still slightly warm. He had been just a few minutes too late. If only he had gotten there sooner.

He put him down and let loose the contents of his stomach. It was his fault. If he had gotten there sooner. If he had driven faster.

He held his best friend in his arms and sobbed. He was last one left of the first platoon. The only one who survived the horrors of this war. They were all gone. He’d be the only one to go home to his family. He took the Saint Michael pendant off of his friend. He wasn’t catholic, in fact he had been raised baptist, but the longing to have something to remind him of his friend was stronger than his religious ties.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He rode up to the old farmhouse, barely a shell of the man who had left it nearly a year before. He lost everyone he cared about in Europe. His best friends. His superiors. He was the last surviving member of the first platoon.

That was odd. He figured Hazel would meet him outside when he arrived. Maybe she was inside nursing the baby. She had always been a bit more conservative, so she didn’t want to expose herself. That explained it.

As he walked up the front steps he imagined how good it would feel to hold her again. To kiss her lips. To snuggle up next to her on cold nights. He had missed her so much.

As he went to open the door he realized that it was unlocked. That was strange. She always locked the front door. It was the back door they left unlocked during the day. He was starting to feel uneasy now.

“Hazel?” he called into the house, door slightly ajar, hoping to hear her voice. He received no answer. He pushed the door open all the way. The sight that met his eyes shocked him.

The house was empty. Every single piece of furniture downstairs was gone. This couldn’t be happening. He’d heard stories from other men of this happening, but he never thought it would happen to him. He hoped this was some sort of cruel trick on Hazel’s part.

He quickly ran upstairs, calling his wife’s name. Praying he’d find her and his son up there, only to find the upstairs just as empty as the floor below.

He ran down the hall to their bedroom, crying slightly. He hoped she’d be in there. Maybe she sold the furniture to pay the bills. Or perhaps she was getting it replaced. He knew that was unlikely, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe the reality of the situation.

He burst into the room, finding only the old bed and mattress stripped bare. There was a note taped to the wooden headboard. With trembling hands he removed and read it. He broke down in sobs as the reality set in.

The baby wasn’t his and Hazel was gone, having moved in with the kid’s true father and taken the furniture for their new house. Everything he had was gone. What was the point? He had no wife. No son. His friends were dead. He couldn’t do it.

He pulled the picture out of his pocket, the one of him and the boys in basic and the only one Stiles ever got with Pierson smiling. He missed them. They had all been lost overseas.

He felt for the pistol in his other pocket. He managed a slight smile at the realization it was still there. He pulled it out and walked downstairs, out the back door, and into the fields behind the house. This was the end of the line for him.

He couldn’t wait to see the boys again. Stiles and his constant yapping, Aiello cursing up a storm, Zussman’s antics. Even Pierson and Turner. He rubbed his thumb over the picture.

“Hey, boys. I’ve missed you…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The neighbors heard a singular pistol shot ring out across the fields dividing the houses. That was pretty normal to hear coming from the Daniels’ family farm. Red was probably shooting at another rat that got in the house. If only they knew the reality.

In an instant, the war had claimed yet another life, this one on American soil.

***I will admit, I may have shed a few tears writing this one. Especially Daniels’ ending there. Killing off the characters you love will do that to you. Perhaps I should go to therapy.***

[girlactionfigure]

🟠 Thu morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( 1 / 2 )

💩US WILL NOT SUPPLY.. Biden: If Israel launches a large-scale operation in Rafah, we will not supply it with bombs and artillery shells.

.. A senior Israeli official after Biden's announcement: We have enough means to enter Rafah and occupy it without American assistance. Rafah will be occupied in any case. The main problem is the message it sends to Hezbollah and Iran, that Israel will apparently come without weapons to the conflict in the north.

.. Speaker of the House of Representatives Mike Johnson and Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell sent a letter to President Biden in which they expressed great concern over the decision to suspend arms shipments to Israel.  (( Sadly this is becoming a Republican vs. Democrat issue in the U.S. ))

♦️IDF forces in the Gaza Zeytun area; about 25 terrorist targets were destroyed from the air, our forces are working on the ground to (re)purify the area.

♦️Footage from Gaza channels shows a missile being launched from an Israeli combat helicopter at a target in the Tel Al-Sultan area in West Rafah.

♦️”Sources claim”: Israel dropped a unique bomb in an attack on a Kafrkela in southern Lebanon that has not yet been used previously - to penetrate deep and hit underground bunkers.  Israel used a GBU 10 bomb or a Spice 2000 bomb.

⭕ Islamic Jihad terrorist published videos in which they show launching rockets at IDF forces and armored vehicles in East Rafah.  They took responsibility for 5 terrorist operations against IDF forces in the East Rafah area in the last 30 hours, including the firing of grenades, RPG missiles and machine gun fire.

⭕ HAMAS ATTACKS U.S. AID PIER.. Hamas fired twice in the last day at the temporary dock by the Americans.  

⭕ HAMAS ATTACKS AID PORT KEREM SHALOM.. again (3rd time).  (( Almost like they don’t want aid arriving. I suggest we agree. ))

⭕ DRONE ATTACK SOUTHERN GOLAN VIA SYRIA.. Yonatan, Keshet, areas not previously attacked, suicide drone from SYRIA.

⚠️NEXT STEP - DEMONIZE.. The US State Department is finalizing a report that will discuss whether Israel violates international law (in Gaza - and/or maybe Judea-Samaria).

“YOU DON’T WANT TO SELL US SMART BOMBS”.. MK Tali Gottlieb in a Knesset speech: “the US doesn’t want to sell us smart bombs, we’ll use dumb bombs - and blow up 10 buildings to hit the one we want.”

The US State Department: These are obscene statements, and Israeli government officials should refrain from saying them. (( Umm, no, they are reality.  Israel is not going to roll over and die, we’ll use what we must. ))

🟠 Thu morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( 2 / 2 )

▪️A HERO SOLDIER HAS FALLEN.. Haim Sabach, 20, from Holon, in defense of the north.  May his family be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may G-d avenge his blood!

▪️FINANCE MINISTER - RESTART CONSTRUCTION IN JUDEA-SAMARIA.. The Minister of Finance Smotrich sent a letter to the Prime Minister: "The reality in which a de facto construction freeze is carried out in Judea-Samaria is intolerable, unacceptable and is a reward for terrorism. I can no longer put up with it"  The Minister threatened that if he did not receive an answer in writing from Netanyahu to continue with the construction freeze, construction will resume in Judea-Samaria.

▪️AID PROTESTS.. The supply trucks to Gaza are stuck in Mitzpe Ramon after access was offered via the Eilat - Jordan crossing. Residents of Eilat blocked them all night, and residents of Mitzpe Ramon are blocking them during the day.

▪️HOLY TOMB VISIT INTERRUPTED BY ARSON.. Last night the IDF enabled safe passage into Kifal Harath, Samaria to the holy tomb of Yehoshua bin Nun (biblical leader Joshua).  During the visit, local Arabs attempted an arson attack by dumping a burning tire onto the tomb - while the Jews were inside!  Forces were able to extinguish the fire, allowing the pilgrims to continue their visit.

▪️HOUTHIS.. claim to have attacked 3 ships, including one in the Indian ocean.

🔸DEAL ACTIVITY..  It was the head of the CIA, Burns, who authorized Hamas to make the changes in the wording of the deal.

▪️ECONOMY - TAXES..  In the Treasury they are formulating approaches to deal with the war costs: raising the income tax, raising the VAT (sales-value tax) this year, canceling credit points for parents, imposing a sugar tax, closing government offices, cutting coalition funds.

[actualadvocacybruh]

Ukrainians are in for a hard one

No US support and a new superpower working against their fight against Russia and its imperialism

Luckily they still have Europe backing them and as always Poland is sitting there like a looming Armageddon constantly making plans to rush its tanks and RR forces to the front

But all the American commitments are gonna dry up fast and trump has already threatened to “force” Ukraine to pay back the money after his inauguration

No doubt a ploy by Putin to force them into submission as Russia is begging for meat from North Korea and shells from Ali express just to take a few hundred meters a week

South Korea though …. Maybe a lifeline as they aren’t too happy about North Korea joining in and their army is designed to fight this heavy artillery type battle with minimal personnel (they love their automation in their equipment and their stockpiles are deeper than even the US)

And France has been somewhat vocal on their desire to send forces in, possibly the French Foreign Legion as they tend to be the French “well they are French but also foreigners so send them” unit

Very battle hardened and trained to an insane degree though … don’t care how tough Russians think they are I can tell you they aren’t hard enough for that type of warrior