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sgiandubh · 10 months

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'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'

It is one thing to disprove and even despise The Shire and its netizens. It is a whole other affair to violently bash S's skills, based on absolutely nothing else than spiteful disappointment.

We are being told by Mordor's basement polymaths the man cannot act. It is probably by an unelucidated strike of luck or by charity that he was cast by *** to embody book boyfriend JAMMF, when he has only 5 (five) known facial expressions in his quiver. He was the weakest link of Season 1 cast: I suppose the BJ/Frank Randall 2-in-1 does have a fan club, after all. His acting is wooden. He has chemistry only with C and by Her grace only, because you know, gay as a bag of popcorn. He is a semi-literate hunk, with documented spelling problems. Even more so, when we conveniently toss aside the mounting hysteria during Quarantein Ha-wa-wee disgrace (hey Pooks and all the sock account Dobermans: I hope you remember your Twitter blaze of glory moment every single morning while brushing your teeth). And (also a favorite) he doesn't read, he doesn't prepare, he is sloppy, like that.

God forbid you'd try to set this colossal unfairness straight. You are automatically signed up to the Mommies for Sam Committee and labeled accordingly. Brainless victim (of what, since he is basically useless, but let's not embarrass ourselves with logic), unapologetic limerent inamorata, romantic whale, delusional rural shipper, conspiracy theory troll. Anything goes, really and we know the tune by heart, at this point in time.

Not so long ago, I was re-watching the oath sequence of (5.01) The Fiery Cross, for which I suppose all background/context is superfluous. The only clip I could find has appalling sound, but should still immediately take you back to the Return of the Kilt (starts at 0:56):

youtube

It immediately reminded me of this:

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This is the extraordinary Henry V Saint Crispin's Day speech. Pure Shakespeare and unmatchable Olivier. It is also a well-documented kamikaze moment of the Battle of Agincourt (1415), when a heavily outnumbered English army defeated in an almost miraculous turn of events the French. Granted, the real speech must have been way more concise, but nevertheless a potent affair, with Henry's cunning use of rumors having it that the French would cut two fingers off each captured archer's right hand, to virtually neutralize them. And his army was, essentially, an army of longbows.

Whatever it was, it worked. It worked so well, that it even gave Winston Churchill the idea of asking Laurence Olivier to broadcast this speech for the BBC some time around 1942 and then make a movie of the whole play, in 1944. Again, context is important -it always is, by the way - and it sheds the right light on Olivier's performance. More than acting, it is damn effective war propaganda, a wonderful patriotic act and completely representative for the "we shall fight them on the beaches and we shall never surrender" spirit. It is also all about acting as summoning of energy: Olivier manages to channel Henry V, he is Henry V and this immediately gives an irresistible depth and truth to his performance.

For contrast, one could compare his version with Branagh's 1989 interpretation (https://youtu.be/y1BhnepZnoo), which I am not adding here for the sake of levity. The main difference is, for me at least, palpable: Olivier completely suppressed his ego, which I am afraid is something impossible to achieve for Branagh. His take on the speech aims to be more modern and natural, and yet it is still all about Branagh promoting his art. And we know it immediately. A fairly honest tableau vivant, but no depth and nowhere near as majestic as the other.

I am not saying here that S is on par with Laurence Olivier. That would really mean being a romantic whale and I am the one you start to get, I hope, acquainted with. What I am saying is that this guy you just love to humiliate and endlessly cackle about every single day God makes, really, deliberately knows what he is doing in there. I would bet handsome money on S carefully watching and re-watching Olivier's Saint Crispin's Day monologue, in order to prepare for that particular scene. The similarities are, to me, evident, as is the consistent hard work and - dare I say it?- massive talent. It's all about owning the scene and being in the moment. And it is arresting, at times.

All of this is not exactly some shipper far-fetched speculation. S wrote, after all, in Waypoints (and the reference is way too spot on to believe in a kind gesture of the ghostwriter) that he "devoured"

I see great things. I see a very gifted guy who has no ego (C was spot on and for an actor, that is a blessing) and also probably no idea of his (considerable) acting range. I also see a guy who, spare for OL, has been grossly, unfairly miscast and overlooked. And who was determined to take whatever was available or easy on the schedule, in order to remain relevant. I may not be a good client for his booze, but I would pay handsomely to see him in something along the lines of For Whom The Bell Tolls. Or even (if you want a more exotic but oh, so rewarding alternative) a still inexplicably missing Western adaptation of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (probably not the best times for that one, but still: Bulgakov was, after all, born in Kyiv and not really a fan, to say the least, of tyrants). That's exactly how damn good he is.

How was it, Kidneystone BIF? Oh. "No boundaries. No respect. No class." Exactly, madam. You said it yourself.

#Youtube

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cleolinda · 1 month

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Weekend links, May 5, 2024

My posts

It seems like it couldn’t possibly be true, but Lauren Bacall seems to be the first “Lauren,” and you can see in the U.S. baby name graphs when she hits the screen. I’m leaving open the possibility that someone female, somewhere, was named Lauren before 1944, but as a Lauren, I haven’t seen evidence of it yet.

Reblogs of interest

Late-breaking news: Bernard Hill (best known as Théoden in Lord of the Rings) has passed at age 79.

The Hot Vintage Lady Polls: Reminder that I’m not affiliated with the Hot Vintage Brackets (or any brackets); I just like vintage ladies and get easily obsessed with things. Greta Garbo and Rita Hayworth are in danger this time (I am letting the chips fall where they may with Ava). I would say I don’t understand people, but I’m sure Audrey people don’t understand me, either. That said, the Flaming Chaos Elmo inside me wants to see the Hepburns matched against each other.

@hotvintagepoll is also running polls to cast an imaginary vintage Dracula movie, as a treat.

Speaking of: Season’s Greason’s, Dracula Daily fans! Good Friend Jonathan’s time loop begins again.

May the Fourth be with you (And also with you)!

New music from Garbage! “Better Not Lie to Me,” “Revenge and Hurt,” a cover of “Song to the Siren,” and a new mix of “Bad Boyfriend” with Dave Grohl on drums this time.

New music from Dua Lipa! I’ve liked all the singles a lot so far, and ”Whatcha Doing” is the album song I like the most as of this writing. Good luck to Dua this week cracking the Billboard Taylor 100!

Hozier Watch 2024: At first I was just poking fun at myself for having links here two weeks in a row, and now it’s just a thing? I see this “All art has political dimensions” gifset go by at least once a week, but I’m reblogging it this time for the user discussion.

(“I wrote a song called the Monster Mash, so you should play that. That’s one of mine.”)

“Here are some more articles about the increasing number of First Nations who have been able to reintroduce bison to their lands.”

How to spot fake news (namely: slow the fuck down)

The illustrious career of clip-art wolf Lumpy Kiba

Call an ambulance… but not for Alfred Pennyworth

No one was doing it like costume designer Eiko Ishioka

Crab Cake (Scott Fraser, 2019)

Unhinged lifestyle editorials, a triptych

Video

Honestly this dual mating dance was my favorite video this week

The Donna Summer song that Brian Eno called “the sound of the future”; I added a video of her performing it 22 years later, and he wasn’t wrong

This seems fine: An... upside-down... deer guitar that...?

Watch for the exact moment this dad realizes why his child thinks mothers in labor foam at the mouth

Come for Werner Herzog’s fear of chickens; stay for a quote that will blow you straight back to Journalfen 2004

This video of birds eating seeds and drinking orange juice is also self care

Eventually someone will stop Chocolate Guy, but today is not that day

The sacred texts

Hope is a weapon. Hope is a skill

Personal tag of the week

Cats, including this cat full of love, designed by poll, and the two types of kittens.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

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uispeccoll · 5 months

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#VoicesFromTheStacks

Marguerite de Angeli

Marguerite de Angeli (March 14, 1889) was an award-winning writer and illustrator of children’s books. Often inspired by her environment, many of Marguerite’s books have centered on stories from her family and childhood, and later from the lives of her children and grandchildren. These realistic scenes of families and children are what resonated most from de Angeli’s stories, with audiences finding her books to be absorbing and filled with eye-catching images.

Images: Left, Butter at the Old Price (1971) inscribed to the Wallace Family by de Angeli. Invitation to publication celebration laid in book. Right, mock up book cover illustration given to the Wallace family (James Wallace Papers)

Though born in Michigan, Marguerite’s family moved to Philadelphia when she was 13, which she later used as the setting for many of her stories. Although Marguerite was naturally skilled in writing and illustration, this did not become an active pursuit for her until later in life when her five children were nearly grown. Stemming from the Sunday school paper Marguerite illustrated in the 1920’s, de Angeli began to center her work on a younger audience, penning her first picture book in 1935. This book and the subsequent centered on two children, Ted and Nina, as they went to a grocery store and later played together on a rainy day. Inspired by two of her own children, Marguerite’s knack for recognizing beauty in everyday scenes would stick with her throughout the rest of her stories.

Images: Left, illustration from Bright April (1946). Right, Title page and inscription to Wallace family for Bright April.

While living in Pennsylvania, Marguerite came to know the Pennsylvania Dutch and Amish communities, incorporating their customs into her stories, as seen in her first Caldecott Honor Book, Yonie Wondernose (1944), the story of a curious Amish boy. She would later write about racial divisions in her story Bright April (1946), centered on racial prejudice in a post-World War II America. In 1950, Marguerite won her first Newbery Medal for the historical novel The Door in the Wall (1949), set in the Middle Ages as the Black Death sweeps across the country. She would later receive another Caldecott Honor and Newbery Honor for her Mother Goose adaptation and the Black Fox of Lorne, respectively. Though often centering on the stories of others, one of Marguerite’s last books, Butter at the Old Price (1971), tells the story of her family and the circumstances leading to her many stories and illustrations.

Images: Left, title page to The Door in the Wall (1949). Center, illustration from The Door in the Wall. Right, illustration and inscription to Antonia Wallace from The Door in the Wall.

We have most of Marguerite de Angeli’s works in our children's book collection, many of them inscribed to James M. and Christine K. Wallace and their children. James Wallace, relative to Henry A. Wallace, 33rd vice president of the United States, became friends with Marguerite and her family, as the two likely ran into each other at some point during their time in Philadelphia. Not only are many of the novels signed to the Wallace family by Marguerite, but a good few include Christmas cards and invitations to publication celebrations. Within the James M. Wallace papers, Christmas ornaments and illustrations made by Marguerite can be found as well as newspaper clippings and photographs of Marguerite, James and Christine.

Images: Left, photo of Marguerite de Angeli, Christine and James Wallace. Center, Christmas card and ornaments made by de Angeli for Wallace family. Right, illustration that did not make it into a picture book given to Wallace family.

-- Kaylee S., Special Collections Olson Graduate Assistant

#uiowa #special collections #voicesfromthestacks #children's books #libraries #books of tumblr #Margeuerite de Angeli #women writers

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lluvllimoo · 1 month

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Apart from you

English isn’t my first language so there might be mistakes.

Lee!Hyunjin

Ler!Felix

Words:1944

TW: bondage

Its angst first then tickles 🤭 (i die for angst something is definitely wrong with me.)

@itzsana-kiddingmenow 😉

Skz was at the Makneas dorm watching the new Skz Code episode. Everyone seemed to be having fun except Hyunjin, who was zoned out. He was way too far gone. Until he felt someone shaking him back to reality.

"Hyunjin-ah, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just tired."

"I think I'm going to go to my dorm and get some sleep."

"Okay."

Hyunjin got up to leave. He walked out of the door and started walking down the streets. The fresh hair really woke him up. It was cold, and there were gray clouds.

"It is probably going to rain soon."

"A little rain won't hurt anyone anyway."

Don't get him wrong. He actually loved the rain so much. I mean, how could anyone hate the rain? Every time it rained, he jumped in joy and wanted to go out, but he was quickly stopped by the leader, Bang Chan.

He was walking toward God knows what. He was just having a deep thought. He wasn't really thinking about where he was going or what he was doing. Now you may be asking, What is he thinking about?

While others were watching Skz Code, he was focused on one thing. Felix. Felix is the person he adores the most. He loves him, but because of some "stays" that started giving them death threats, the staff had to separate them for their safety. He appreciated that they were looking out for them, but he missed his little sunshine, where he could hug him on camera. And hugging was a pretty big deal for Hyunjin since he doesn't like skin ships. Felix was the only person he accepted to hug. I mean, how could he say no to that cute ball of sunshine? Well, he didn't have to say no now since he couldn't even talk to him on camera. It hurts him deeply to know this will likely last for a while. As he was walking, he watched old clips of them when everything was okay and they had so much fun together on set. He didn't even realize the tears that were coming. It was all too much for him. So he just cried and cried and cried. When he looked around, everything was blurry because of the tears in his eyes. With his blurry vision, he sat on a bench that was facing the Han River. If he hadn't found a place to sit in time, I think his legs would have given up on him. As he looked around again, he realized. When did he get here? It doesn't matter anyway. Soon, it started to rain. He couldn't care less; he put on his earphones, opened a sad song, and kept on crying. He missed his best friend. Why couldn't they understand that there isn't anything going on between them? Why?

"I want him back so badly."

He said it with a shaky voice. His nose was running because of the crying and the cold. But suddenly, his music stopped. He looked at his phone for the cause and saw Bang Chan calling him.

"Shit."

He looked at the time. 1:36 a.m., he wipped his tears in an instant and answered the call.

"Hyunjin, where the heck are you?"

"Sorry, I wanted to get some fresh air."

"At this time, and while it's raining?"

"Yeah"

"You better come home right this instant."

"Okay, Hyung, I'm sorry."

He hung up the phone. He got up from the bench and started walking back. He tried not to cry again because he didn't want them to know that he had been crying for hours. He opened a happy song to get his mind off it. Soon, he arrived at the dorm. He slipped in the key and quietly opened the door, trying not to make any sound. But, to his luck, there was an angry leader on the other side waiting for him.

"Hyunjin, you're sooked.

"Come here."

Chan opened his arms to Hyunjin, waiting for a hug. Hyunjin hesitated a bit. Hyunjin thought he would be furious at him. How can he be mad at his children when he loves them deeply? He slowly hugged back.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep, I haven't been this sure."

He assured him with a smile.

"Well, you better take a shower if you get sick; I'll beat your ass."

Hyunjin giggled. His giggle was precious and so cute.

"Okay, okay, I'll take a shower now, and you should go to bed, Chan Hyung."

"Ill try."

"IlL tRY"

He mocked Bang Chan.

"Ya! I'll kill you."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Hyunjin walked towards the bathroom. At least he could keep crying there, right?

Hyunjin took a long shower. He thought about Felix a lot and cried while listening to the sound of water dropping. It made him relax more.

After what seemed like ages, he got out of the shower and dressed up in his pajamas. He should at least get some sleep. So he was going to bed, but not his; he was going to Bang Chans bed. As he entered, he saw Chan looking through his phone.

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer his question and went straight next to him and cuddled him. Well, that's a first.

"woah!"

"Are you sure you're good?"

"Mhm."

Chan put his phone on the night table and cuddled Hyunjin back. With Hyunjin's warmth, he could fall asleep. That's also a first. It must be the magic of Hyunjin's hug. When they woke up, they looked at the time: 1:38 p.m. They had never slept that much. So they got up and went to the kitchen to see Han and Changbin talking.

"good morning."

"It's not even morning, idiot. You guys slept a lot."

"Then why didn't you wake us up?" Chan said.

"Well, how often do we get to see you sleep?"

"You guys were too cute." Changbin said as he waved his phone in front of them.

Changbin had taken a picture of them.

"Heyyy."

"That's not very nice." (ifykyk;)

"Just eat so we can go to the Makneas dorm," Han said.

They ate and started getting ready to meet the other members. When everyone was ready, they hopped into the car and started driving to the other dorm. Five minutes later, they had arrived at the dorm. They got off the car and went into the dorms. They had been greeted by none other than their little sunshine, Felix. Everyone was sitting in the living room talking about stuff. Suddenly, Hyunjin got up and went towards Lee Knows room.

"Hyunjin-ah, where are you going?"

"Im tired; im going to sleep."

It was true that he was so tired, both emotionally and physically. After Hyunjin went to sleep, the others started to talk about him.

"Did you guys notice Hyunjin's behavior?" Jeongin pointed it out.

"He is acting weird these days," Lee Know said.

"Yesterday, he got back home at 2 a.m. He was sooking wet, and he looked very sad, and while he was showering, I heard him cry. I didn't want to talk about it since he looked like he didn't either."

Felix couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could he not know his own best friend was struggling? He felt angry that he couldn't be next to him while he cried. He wanted to be there with him. He felt so bad for him.

"Guys, I think I'm going to talk to Hyunjin a bit." Felix said.

"Okay, tell us if something happens."

He got up and went to Hyunjin, who was sleeping. He looked closer to his face. There were tear marks on his flushed red cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know you were having a hard time. If I knew, I would have been there for you."

"I feel very bad."

Felix laid next to Hyunjin and hugged him from behind.

"It's okay, Felix." Hyunjin whispered.

"Hyunjin!" Felix jumped when he heard his voice. He thought he was sleeping.

"Look at me." Felix demanded.

Felix sat up and looked at Hyunjin, who was also getting up. When their eyes met, Felix saw for the first time that Hyunjin's eyes looked tired.

"Oh, my sweet baby, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Please tell me."

With that, Hyunjin couldn't stop his tears and started to cry about everything. But he refused to tell him what he was crying about.

"Hyunjin, please, what happened?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, do you at least want a hug?"

"That would be good." He said it with a shakey voice.

As he hugged him, Felix's finger slipped to his sides and started to tickle him softly.

"Felihihixx."

"Stohohpp ihim nohot in thehe mohohod."

He giggles to himself, and Felix won't stop.

"No, you've been sad for so long. It's time to cheer you up."

He tackled Hyunjin and sat on top of him. Hyunjin was giggling in anticipation.

"Awww, already giggling for me, cuteee."

Hyunjin got embarrassed, so he covered his face.

"Nah-ah, do you think you can hide from me?"

Felix pulled his hands from his face and tied his hands to the head board.

"So will you tell me whats wrong, or should I tickle it out of you?

"Felix, please don't do this."

"Wrong choice, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin."

As he said, he lifted his shirt and tickled his ribs at a fast pace.

"OMGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH."

Hyunjin tried to squirm away from the tingly feeling, but he couldn't escape anywhere. Felix got a feather and was circling around his navel.

"NO." Hyunjin screamed. He knew what was about to come was going to be torture.

"Yes."

Felix finally went in, and the scream Hyunjin produced. You could hear it from the other side of the country.

"FELELEELIIHIHIHHIXX IIHIHIHI-IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANTTT."

"IHIHIHTHTSS TOHOHOHI MUHUHUHUCHH."

Hyunjin saw stars, and he thought this would be his end. That's how bad it was.

"So are you ready to let me know, or would you like me to continue?

"I can't tell you.

"All I can tell is..."

"It's about us."

"What's up with us?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, Hyunjin, you're getting it."

Felix kneaded his armpits with one hand and tickled his navel with the other. And Hyunjin went ballistic; he was arching his back, which only made it worse; he was screaming; there were tears coming out of his eyes. The worst part was that he was immobilized. He screamed so much that he ran out of breath. Felix stopped to give him a break. He didn't want to kill him.

"So will you be telling me?" Felix wiggled his fingers towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin started giggling like crazy.

"fehehehelihihixx."

"Didn't know you were air ticklish?"

"nohohohohoo."

Felix's fingers got dangerously close to his sides and belly, so he gave up; he knew it would only keep getting worse.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you."

"Finally."

"You know we can't stay close to each other on camera, right?

"yeah."

"It hurt me every time I looked at you. It wasn't fair to me. You could touch anyone except me; it hurt. It hurt so much. I can't stay away from you, Felix. He whimpered this time, and sad tears came out.

"Hyunjin..."

"Nothing is more important than you."

"We'll talk to JYP about it, and I'm sure he will gladly accept helping us out."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Now, will you stop crying, or should I help you out?"

"No, no, I'm done."

"Hmmmm, well, I'm not done with you yet."

"wait what?"

This was going to be a long day for Hyunjin. Let's all pray for him to make it out alive. And I assure you, the other members also joined Felix.

So i originally gave this idea to @itzsana-kiddingmenow her fics name was “closer to you” but back then i didn’t write fics but since i now do i decided to write my own version.

#straykids #angst #tickle #hyunlix

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mads-weasley · 1 year

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The Vow

Masterlist

A/N: I'M ALIVE!! (roll mushu clip from mulan) I'm back with a short Nix fic that's been in my wips for probably about a year now lol! It isn't my best work, but buckle up for some angst with fluff! Enjoy!

Summary: In a small Aldbourne café, romance blossoms, but is anything ever safe from the clutches of war?

Warnings: mentions of blood, pretty good angst w/ fluff

December 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

"Nix. Nix, wake up," whispered Dick as he kneeled over the man's frozen foxhole. Nothing but a low groan could be heard from below.

Lewis pulled his thin blanket up to cover his exposed neck with a sigh. "5 more minutes, Dick."

"Lew. It's (y/n)."

Instantly, he shot up, wide awake. "Where is she? What happened?"

The redhead ran a hand down his face. "She and a few other men went on a patrol but wandered into the German line. Only one Dog company private made it out." Dick paused, watching Nix with a sad expression. "He says the last thing he saw was (y/n) going down as he ran."

It took a few seconds for the words to process in the intelligence officer's mind.

"Go down? What does that mean? Fall? Get shot? What does he mean, Dick?" He asked frantically, jumping out of the foxhole. "Where is this guy?"

"Speirs is talking to him in the CP now. Lew, if sh-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "No, don't finish that sentence. She's not gone until I see a body."

The sight of (y/n)’s cold lifeless body flashed in his mind, causing tears to blur his vision as he jogged to CP. He took no time to compose himself before tearing through the tent’s entrance. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. Ron’s private was sitting on a cot, a far-off look in his eyes as he whispered to the Lieutenant.

“We didn’t even know where we were, sir. Johnson, h-he fell in first, and then-,“ he stopped, squeezing his eyes closed.

Lew didn’t have time to waste.

“Then what happened?” He demanded, making the boy jump.

Winters grabbed his shoulder roughly. “Nix, calm down. Scaring him won’t make him talk any faster.”

Clenching his teeth, he crouched down in front of the private and calmly repeated his question.

“It was like we kicked a hornet’s nest, sir. They were everywhere. Johnson, Hart, Anderson, and Sechler were gone in-in seconds. (Y/l/n) and I were at the rear when it happened.”

At the mention of her name, Nix could feel his heart clenching in anticipation.

“(Y/l/n),” he asked shakily. “What happened to (y/l/n)?”

Gulping, the boy’s eyes dropped to the ground. “She told me to run while she covered me, so I did. When I got to the trees she wasn’t far behind me telling me to keep running.”

‘Selfless as always,’ Lew thought to himself. It was one of the things he loved and hated about (y/n) at the same time. He loved the way she cared for others but hated it in situations like the one they were in. (Y/n) (y/l/n) was a fearless leader who would happily lay down her life for those of her men. He prayed it wasn’t the case, but he had to know for sure.

“You saw her go down?” He questioned, fighting tears as he looked down. Ron and Dick shared a saddened glance at the sight of their broken friend.

“Yes, sir. Most of the fire had stopped, so I turned around, but when I did, a single shot rang out and she-she dropped.”

With that sentence, every thought in Lewis Nixon’s mind disappeared and was replaced with a burning rage his friends had never seen before. Before they could intervene, Nix had grabbed the Private by the collar and shoved him up against a nearby cabinet.

“And you just left her there?” He shouted, shoving the man again. “Coward!”

Speirs and Winters sprang into action, prying Nix off of the Private.

“Nix! Stop!” Dick cried. “She wouldn’t want you to act like this.”

Slowly, his thrashing stopped, and Winters let him go. He turned around to face his best friend and softly spoke.

“She can’t be gone, Dick. I refuse to believe she’s gone.”

In a rare show of affection, Dick pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Lew, but we can’t go searching tonight.”

As if he’d been burned, Nix recoiled from his friend and started walking towards the tent entrance. “If you won’t look, I will.”

A hardened look appeared on the redhead's face.

“That’s an order, Nix. No searching tonight.”

Lew didn't acknowledge him as he exited the slight warmth of the tent into the frigid Ardennes. The bitter cold sank into each soldier's bones as they sat in their foxholes each day, and (y/n) had complained about it the day before. The thought of her laying forever cold among the snow turned his insides.

Bile rose to his throat and he hunched over next to a tree as he vomited what little food he had eaten that day. The tears he had been holding back flowed down his cheeks as he slowly made his way back to his foxhole.

Along the way, Luz and Perconte called out to him, but he didn't even hear them. He was too wrapped up in his head as his memories played. Memories of her.

November 1943

In a cozy corner of the café in Aldborne, England, Lewis Nixon took a deep breath. Breaking out in a small sweat, he approached Sergeant (y/n) (y/l/n), who was engrossed in a book.

"Hey there, Sergeant (y/l/n). Mind if I join you? I could use some company that doesn't involve bullets and explosions."

The woman looked up with a hint of amusement in her eyes, gesturing for him to sit.

"Well, Lieutenant..." She prompted, unsure of his name.

Extending his hand, Lew shot her his charming smile. "Nixon, Lewis Nixon."

She shook it with a smirk. "I suppose I can spare a few moments of my valuable reading time for you. But be warned, my standards for company are quite high."

With a playful glint in his eyes, Lew took a seat across from the woman.

"I'm up for the challenge, Sergeant," he chuckled. "Just don't expect me to bring you flowers or serenade you with a love song.

(Y/n)'s hand rose to her heart in mock disappointment. "Oh, what a shame! I was hoping for a romantic serenade right here in the café. Guess I'll have to settle for your delightful conversation."

And what a delight it was.

The more time they spent together between training and on nights out at the local pubs, it was harder for them to deny their attraction. Fraternization was strictly prohibited in the army, and neither wanted to face the consequences if they were ever found out. So they kept their feelings secret, but those around them could see the longing gazes and gentle touches the couple shared.

March 1944

The Aldbourne pub bustled with activity as the locals and soldiers from the nearby base filled the room with laughter and lively conversations. Amongst the crowd, Lew and (y/n) sat at a corner table, their camaraderie and unspoken connection apparent to anyone who cared to observe.

It was a typical Friday evening, and the atmosphere was relaxed. (Y/n)'s warm smile captivated those around her as she was engaged in an animated conversation with a group of soldiers who had become like family. Nix watched her, his gaze filled with admiration, knowing that her charm and kindness drew people in effortlessly.

As the evening progressed, a young man, dressed in civilian attire, entered the pub. His confident demeanor and charismatic presence immediately caught all the ladies' attention. He approached their table, flashing a charming smile.

"Evening, folks," the man greeted, his eyes lingering on (y/n). "Mind if I join you for a drink?"

Lew felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, his grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly. He knew they weren't a couple, but the connection he shared with (y/n) ran deep. Seeing someone else vying for her attention ignited an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness within him.

(Y/n), always the warm and friendly soul, gestured for the man to take a seat. "Sure, have a seat. We don't mind some company."

As the stranger settled in, he engaged the (y/h/c) in conversation, his words laced with a flirtatious charm. Lewis listened with his jaw clenched as he struggled to suppress the swell of emotions stirring inside him. It seemed that everyone in the pub could sense the unspoken tension between him and (y/n), and their gazes shifted between the trio, observing the dynamics at play.

Unable to bear it any longer, Lew excused himself from the table, his heart pounding in his chest. He made his way to the bar and ordered a drink to calm his racing thoughts. It wasn't that he wanted to claim (y/n) as his own, but the thought of someone else stealing her attention stung him deeply.

As he leaned against the bar, lost in his own thoughts, a voice broke through his reverie. It was (y/n), her footsteps hesitant but determined.

"Lew, can we talk?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his face for any sign of understanding.

He turned to face her, trying to mask the emotions that had consumed him just moments ago. "Sure, (y/n/n). What's on your mind?"

She took a deep breath, her voice earnest. "I noticed you were uncomfortable back there. I want you to know that there's nothing between that man and me. You mean a lot to me, Lewis, and I wouldn't want anything to jeopardize our friendship."

He felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability wash over him. Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on (y/n)'s arm. "(Y/n/n), I trust you. It's not about not trusting you. It's just... seeing someone else vying for your attention made me realize how much you mean to me."

A flicker of surprise danced in the woman's eyes, her expression softening. "Lew... I feel the same way. But we can't, and you know why."

He sighed softly, eyes flickering to her lips momentarily. "I know, doll. It kills me every day."

"Me too, but I'd rather have you as my friend than not have you at all."

D-Day + 1, 1944

In the dense forest of Normandy, the pair found themselves separated after their harrowing jump on D-Day. The chaos of the jump had scattered them, and each of them carried a growing anxiety in their hearts until they could find the other.

Nixon, his mind racing with worry, fought his way through the dense underbrush, desperately searching for any sign of (y/n) amidst the fog of war. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her to the chaotic and treacherous landscape. The far-off sound of gunfire and explosions only fueled his determination to find her.

Her heart pounding with fear, (y/n) moved with urgency through the war-torn forest, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any glimpse of Nixon. The stress of navigating the dark forest made it difficult to focus, but she refused to let despair take hold. She knew that finding him was vital to her own survival, a beacon of hope amid the horrors around her.

As fate would have it, their paths finally converged in a small clearing. Hearing rustling in the trees ahead of her, (y/n) lowly whispered out the call sign.

"Flash!"

"Thunder."

The second she heard the voice, she knew it was him. When both stood up into the small clearing, relief washed over them. Their faces mirrored a mixture of anxiety and sheer joy, and in that instant, the weight they carried lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"Lewis!" (Y/n) quietly called out, her voice filled with equal parts relief and emotion.

"(Y/n/n)!" He replied, his voice catching in his throat. Nix closed the distance between them, embracing her tightly.

"Thank God," Lew whispered, tightening his hold on her smaller frame. "I'm so glad you're okay."

They held each other, taking solace in the fact that they were together once more.

"I was worried I'd lost you," Nixon whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

The (y/h/c)'s grip tightened, her voice filled with unshed tears. "I was so afraid, Lew. I couldn't bear the thought of not finding you."

Their eyes locked, and in that shared gaze, they found solace and understanding.

"Doll, I can't imagine going through this without you," Lewis confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and love.

A small smile formed on (y/n)'s lips as she caressed his cheek gently. "Screw the rules, Lew."

With a shared understanding of what they were risking, they leaned in, lips meeting in a tender and desperate kiss. It carried the weight of their anxious hearts, the relief of being together again, and the realization that their love was a beacon of light amidst the darkness of war.

December 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

Finally arriving at his foxhole, Lewis prepared to set out in search of (y/n). As he was quickly gathering his supplies, he heard a faint rustling in the underbrush behind him. Turning around, his heart leaped with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, only to find (y/n) stumbling weakly through the snow-covered trees.

The woman's uniform was torn and bloody and her face was marked with exhaustion and dirt. She looked up, her eyes meeting Nixon's with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"And where exactly are you hurrying off to, soldier?" She weakly croaked.

Shock and joy coursed through Lewis' veins as he rushed to (y/n)'s side, barely able to comprehend that she was alive. When he reached her, it was like her body finally allowed itself to shut down after running on nothing but adrenaline for hours. She collapsed in his arms as her body went limp.

"Medic! We need help here!" Nixon shouted as he lowered them to the ground, the urgency in his voice echoing through the silent forest.

He cradled her head in his lap, his voice a steady reassurance as he urged her to stay awake between shouts for help. Remembering his little medical training from basic, he put pressure on her gunshot wound, which sat just below her collarbone along her right shoulder.

Panic gripped Nixon's heart as he called for a medic again, his voice trembling with desperation.

His arms trembled as he cradled (y/n)'s weakened body, his heart pounding in his chest. Fear and anguish mingled as he pleaded with her to stay conscious. "(Y/n/n), stay with me. Don't you dare give up. Help is coming."

The weight of her limp form pressed against him, and he could feel the life slipping away from her. His voice cracked with emotion as he whispered words of reassurance and love, hoping against hope that she would hear him, even in her weakened state.

"I'm here, doll. You're not alone. I love you," He murmured, his voice filled with tenderness and a profound sense of longing.

Minutes that felt like an eternity passed until finally, the distant sound of hurried footsteps broke through the eerie silence. Roe and Spina, along with Winters and Speirs had arrived, their faces etched with concern.

"Please, help her," Lewis implored, his voice thick with emotion as he stepped back, giving the medic room to work. Dick placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, overlooking his earlier outburst.

The medics immediately got to work, assessing her injuries with skilled hands. Nix watched anxiously, his heart in his throat. The words the medic spoke were a haze in his mind, a blur of technical jargon and medical terminology. However, he was fully aware that (y/n)'s condition was not a good one.

His eyes never left her face, the anguish etched across his features. As the medic worked tirelessly, Lew felt a mixture of helplessness and determination. He prayed fervently for her survival, his heart heavy with the weight of his love for her.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely, the world outside their desperate bubble fading away. She was stabilized and moved to the company's makeshift aid station, where Lew sat next to her. As much as he wanted to split the distance and take her hand, he knew they were not alone, and anyone could burst in at any moment. As hours passed, he began to lose hope.

As the morning sun cast a gentle glow through the canvas of the medical tent, (y/n)'s eyelids fluttered open, and her vision blurred at first. The scent of antiseptic mingled with the sounds of muffled footsteps and whispered conversations. Confusion and a dull ache permeated her body, reminding her of the ordeal she had endured.

Gradually, the fog of unconsciousness lifted, and her gaze focused on the figure sitting beside her bed, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. It was Lewis, his face etched with worry lines and traces of dried tears. Roe and Spina excused themselves from the tent, knowing they were intruding on a private moment.

"Hi..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Are you okay?"

Tears welled up in Nixon's eyes as he leaned closer, his voice choked with emotion. "Am I okay? You're the one who got shot, doll."

A fragile smile graced (y/n)'s lips, and her hand reached out, seeking his touch. Without hesitation, he took it, gently running his thumb along the top of it.

"How are you feeling?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her injured shoulder, which was now in a sling. "I feel like I got run over by a panzer."

A small laugh escaped his lips as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "I bet you do, sweetheart."

A few seconds passed before (y/n) broke the silence.

"I heard you, Lew... when I was drifting in and out of consciousness. You said... you loved me," She murmured, her gaze seeking solace in his eyes.

His heart swelled, voice raw with emotion. Nixon held her hand tightly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I meant it, (y/n/n). I've loved you since that day in the café."

"Good," (y/n) chuckled. "Because I love you, too."

Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. "I'm so thankful you're here."

"You were the reason I kept fighting to make it back. I was tempted to lay there and give up, but then I thought about you, and I knew I had to get up because I couldn't leave you alone."

His grip on her hand tightened as he brought it up to his lips. "You're right. I can't do any of this without you. I need you here with me."

With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, Lewis leaned closer, his lips gently capturing hers in a kiss that held the power to heal and ignite a fierce sense of hope. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words, a testament to the depth of their love and the strength that had carried them through the darkest times.

As their lips melded together, time seemed to stand still. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the sensation of their touch and the beating of their hearts. It was a bittersweet blend of longing and relief, the taste of their shared triumph over the jaws of death.

Their kiss conveyed a profound sense of gratitude, each press of their lips conveying the unspoken message of "I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm with you." It was a silent pact; a promise to embrace life fully, treasure every stolen kiss, and navigate the uncertainties of the future side by side.

Finally, as their lips reluctantly parted, they remained locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, their eyes reflecting the depths of their emotions. Their foreheads gently touched, breaths mingling as they silently vowed to savor every moment, to cherish the fragile gift of life that had brought them back together.

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usafphantom2 · 7 months

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Spitfire Mk XIV, RN137 G-FF has clipped wings and white theatre stripes. 17 Squadron RAF Seletar, Singapore 1944.

@ron_eisele via X

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usaac-official · 1 year

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The wreckage of a brand-new PB4Y-2 that crashed near a residential area in San Diego shortly after takeoff, 22 November 1944. The port wing clipped a house and spun out of control, killing all six crewmen aboard.

#us navy #usn #PB4Y-2 #Privateer #warbird #crew #crash landing #aviation history

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bitter69uk · 3 months

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“Whenever Diana Ross goes shopping in Paris, it is a sign of what a famous person’s charisma can do. One day, she wanted some trinkets to wear to go dancing. After having lunched with friends at Maxim’s, her mile-long stretch limousine (something rare even in Paris) pulled up, and she was the first outside on the sidewalks in her floor-length sables at noon. Off she cruised to E. Oxeda, the Faberge of antique jewelers. Inside, she threw her sables on a chair. She jumped up on a Louis Something desk, her fake hair flying at half-mast. She crossed her legs, dangled them as she selected in ten minutes an antique pearl necklace, a diamond clip and some earrings that did the shake, rattle and roll between her cheeks and hair. The image of fame came when the bill was drawn up. “Would you like some identification?” asked Diana. Mme Oxeda said: “No, Miss Ross. We will deliver the jewels to your hotel this afternoon before six.” And this was a high Saturday when no banks could be called to verify her astronomical check, drawn on a bank across the Atlantic Ocean. It could have easily been an imposter, a drag queen, a professional thief. But Diana Ross’ super glamour is so authentic, it can’t easily be imitated.”

/ Andre Leon Talley in the book Mega-Star (1984) /

All hail the Queen! Call her Miss Ross! Happy 80th birthday to durable, volatile veteran pop diva, occasional (Oscar nominated) actress, sequin enthusiast, all-round glamour icon and one of Detroit’s finest daughters – the fabulous Diana Ross (born 26 March 1944)! Understandably everyone loves Ross’ music (both with the Supremes and solo), but I particularly treasure Ross’s spectacular 1975 film Mahogany in which she plays a struggling aspiring fashion designer who achieves the pinnacle of supermodel mega-stardom in Italy. It’s an unassailable so-bad-it’s-GREAT camp classic in the tradition of Valley of the Dolls, Mommie Dearest or Showgirls (and Ross’s outrageous costume and wig changes surely sparked the imagination of generations of Black drag queens, including “Mama Ru” himself). Fittingly, La Ross is currently one of the official muses of Saint Laurent’s Spring / Summer 2024 campaign – and it feels like a belated Mahogany moment! Portraits by David Sims.

#diana ross #the supremes #motown #diva #ysl fashion #lobotomy room #gay icon #glamour #kween #fierce #sequins #mahogany #detroit #david sims #fashion photography

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lonestarbattleship · 1 year

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"On this day,June 25th, 1944, the USS TEXAS was hit by two German 240mm shells off the coast of Cherbourg, France.

The First Hit

At 1310 TEXAS receives a hit from a large caliber shell atop the ship’s armored conning tower shearing off the top of Direct #3, which fell on to and injured the Gunnery Officer beneath it. The shell would then strike the longitudinal frame on the ship’s foremast causing an upwards explosion into the Pilot House directly above injuring many of those inside. By 1325 the crew began removing the thirteen casualties wounded in the explosion. These men suffered traumatic leg injuries, fractures, contusions, blast concussions, and abrasions. The ship’s helmsman, Christen Norman Christensen, would receive a fatal prognosis and die of his wounds later that day, becoming the ship’s only combat fatality during her career.

The explosion sheared off three sections of floor plates damaging the steering gear, compasses, engine revolution indicator, and many electrical cables and circuits. The space was demolished, and could no longer serve as the ship’s control station. All ship control operations moved to the Conning Tower as the ship maneuvered radically away and out of range of the German battery.

'The conduct of all hands during the action was worthy of praise and attaches no censure to anyone on board. In particular, Lieutenant Command Louis P. Spear, USN, Lieutenant Clarence L. Moody, Jr., (ChC), USNR, and Eddleman, Will J., Bgmstr2c, V6, USNR were worthy of praise for the cool manner in which they rendered first aid to the wounded on the Navigation Bridge, in spite of the continued fall of enemy shells in the vicinity of the ship.' Battle Report, J.M. Cabanillas, USN

Fire!

As the ship maneuvered away, the guns of Turret 4 and 5 continued to fire over the ship’s stern. These blasts warped nearly every door midship, damaged 40mm director mounds, and set fire to some of the canvas covers that were draped over the 40mm ammunition. With ammunition in such close proximity to the fires, nearby crews consisting of both Sailors and Marines quickly jumped into action by throwing the loose ammunition overboard.

'There were canvas covers over the shells in the gun tub. Circular canvas covers protected the clips that were in the racks on the gun tub. That canvas is what caught fire when the 14-inchers fired aft. No canvas cover on the guns themselves. The Marines threw the hot 40mm ammo over the side. No one was injured. The deck did not catch on fire, but there was lots of shrapnel on the deck. The shrapnel made dark spots on the deck.' -Veikko Liila, USMC

Second Time's The Charm

After a quick maneuver, TEXAS returned to face the battery once more. Both TEXAS and Battery Hamburg would exchange fire, encountering many close calls as gun salvos continued to straddle the ship. At 1444 two shell splashes were reported near the ship’s portside bow, and just three minutes later, an unexploded 240mm shell was discovered inside a stateroom on the Half Deck. TEXAS had been hit a second time. With no visible or reported damage, the ship continued its brawl with the relentless battery. By 1500 the ship had received orders to retire and return to Portland, England.

Upon returning to England, the 'dud' 240mm German shell was removed and disarmed under careful direction of the Bomb Disposal Officer. The shell would then be placed back on TEXAS, where it still resides to this day.

'The performance of the TEXAS while under heavy and accurate fire of the enemy was outstanding. She was smartly handled and continued the engagement until ordered to withdraw, although hopelessly outranged and continuously harassed by enemy fire over a period of two hours and twenty minutes.' - C. F. BRYANT, USN."

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link

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