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pianokantzart · 1 month

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The One to Blame (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Content Warning: Blood, trauma, graphic description of injuries

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As the airship rose to the top of the castle where Bowser stood, Mario, Toad, and Princess Peach shared a silent agreement that their only goal at this point was to get Luigi to safety. They soon learned, once they got a better look at the situation, that this would require the difficult task of freeing Luigi from Bowser’s grasp without accidentally breaking his neck, as the koopa’s hand was still clamped down over the man’s face like the teeth of a bulldog. But they had the element of surprise on their side. The appearance of Peach outside of her cage and the reemergence of a “conquered” foe was a dual shock that caused Bowser to lower his guard, and Toad used the opening to launch a cannonball into the koopa king’s shoulder. Incredibly, the impact wasn’t enough to cause any serious damage, but it was enough to elicit a roar of pain as he released his captive to hold his injury. The second Luigi was dropped Mario and Peach rushed in and ushered his limp form to the deck of their airship.

Their greatest stroke of luck was that the warp whistle hadn't been wasted. Early in Mario's journey there was no small amount of temptation to use it to avoid certain dangers they encountered on their way to The Dark Lands, though they knew it was far wiser to save it for the journey back when things would likely be at their worst– which proved to be an understatement. By the time Luigi was on board the stollen vessel, Bowser’s pursuing forces had joined the battle, and the great flying galleon was rendered barely able to stay airborne amidst the damage laid into its hull by the attacking clown cars, bullet bills, and the jet of flames Bowser spat out in rage.

Toad, clinging to the ship’s controls in a struggle to keep them from free falling, blew into the whistle on Peach’s command, and with a shrill tweet the quartet disappeared from Bowser’s view along with the crumbling ship.

In a flash, they reappeared in The Mushroom Forest just outside of Peach’s beloved kingdom. A gentle rain shower had blown in during their absence; another stroke of luck that extinguished the flames of the airship as it finally succumbed to the damage and crashed, toppling giant mushrooms in its path as it landed with a heavy thud in the cool, damp earth. Toad braced himself against the steering wheel. Princess Peach and Mario pressed around Luigi to hold him steady.

Once all was still, save for the sound of falling rain and the creak of the airship as it settled deeper into the mud, Mario was first to act, his greatest impulse being to start carrying his brother toward civilization. When Toad emerged from the driver’s seat and finally got a proper look at the severity of Luigi’s condition, he followed suit, struggling to find some unbroken part of the man by which to pick him up until Princess Peach stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We’ve moved him around too much already. Wait for help to come.”

She pointed to the Mushroom Kingdom in the distance. Toad looked, and could see glimmer of lamp lights already venturing closer– excited soldiers and citizens who had noticed the ship’s appearance from a distance, and were now eager to see whether or not Mario’s mission had been successful.

Toad nodded and stayed put.

Mario, however, seemed blind and deaf to everything except his own misguided determination. He grabbed Luigi under his arms, struggling to lift his dead weight until he caught a good look at his brother’s face, and froze. Up until now, Mario had seen little of Luigi’s features through the fog of adrenaline. They had mostly been either hidden in Bowser’s hand, or masked by a thick layer of blood.

The rain had now washed most of the blood away, though more continued to flow from Luigi’s mouth, nose, and ears, turning Mario’s white gloves a ghoulish shade of pink in his effort to carry him.

Mario's mind– struggling to comprehend what it was seeing– couldn’t help but compare the appearance to smashed bread dough or a dropped cake. He felt lightheaded and distant, like all was little more than a lucid nightmare.

Luigi’s lips, purple, swelled, and split, parted to mutter something that Mario struggled in vain to understand, and in his anxiousness he mistakenly stepped on the ruined remains of the shattered leg, causing the mutter to break into a gargled scream so horrible that Mario panicked and collapsed under his brother’s weight. Toad and Princess Peach acted quickly. They grabbed the duo as they fell, Toad taking charge of Luigi to carefully guide him back down to the floor while Peach wrapped her arms around Mario and pulled him off the deck of the downed ship, away onto the grass at the base of the wreckage. She did so with more aggression than intended. She was expecting a fight, but was dismayed when the plumber numbly allowed himself to be dragged away without resistance, fists clenched and shaking with sobs. Seeing this, she switched tactics. She held him tight and spoke quiet reassurances, struggling to hold back tears of her own. “He’ll be fine. You did it. You saved him. I promise you, with all of my heart, he’ll be alright.” Mario barely heard her over the continued patter of rain. The distant lantern lights rushed closer, rumbling in on a blur of color and voices. There were tugs on his sleeve that were batted away and a few muffled voices saying his name– conversations swelling and falling in volume as his mind drifted. ___

Mario recalled that in the short span of time since he had moved to The Mushroom Kingdom, he became renowned as the one who put an end to Bowser's reign of terror. Naturally, this meant Mario was the first person everyone looked to when Bowser was broken out of prison by his minions and successfully captured Princess Peach during his escape. They gave a lot less credence to Luigi’s abilities. The toads liked him well enough, but he was rarely regarded as anything more than “Mario’s brother.” Up until Bowser’s escape Mario had found this annoying, but when his own reputation came with the burden of responsibility he saw a bright side: Luigi had no obligation to go anywhere or do anything that would put him in danger. Mario had hoped to one day go on adventure with his brother (albeit in circumstances far less dire), but he knew that his own dreams and those of the ever-cautious Luigi were not always going to perfectly align, and this time Mario was determined not to act mindlessly like he did back in Brooklyn when he first started the plumbing business, or when he tried to save the flooding city. He would not throw himself into danger while fully expecting his sibling to follow in his footsteps.

To his surprise, Luigi had already readied a backpack full of supplies the moment he heard word of The Princess’ capture, fully anticipating adventure well before Mario relayed his plan to embark on a rescue mission. He even seemed almost disappointed to hear that the effort was in vain, as Toad already had a pack prepared with the essentials. “Well, it couldn’t hurt,” Luigi shrugged, shoving an extra box of matches into the front flap of the backpack before hoisting the straps onto his shoulders and heading toward the doorway. In the long run, his extra provisions would provide them with only some ramen cups and an extra blanket before the pack met its end in The Seaside Kingdom– grabbed in the beak of a cataquack, ripped from his back, and torn to pieces. But in that moment of preparation, losing spare supplies was the last thing Mario was worried about, and with a determination that surprised even himself he moved to intercept his brother before he reached the doorway. “Wait! Luigi, are you sure you want to do this?” Luigi stopped and stared with a confused expression. “What do you mean?” “This journey is going to eventually take us to The Dark Lands. Do you really want to go back there?” “Ha! no!” Luigi said, forcing a laugh. “But The Princess risked her life to save me. It’s only right that I do the same for her.” Luigi tried to side-step his brother, but Mario mirrored his motions to stay in the way. “We may end up facing up against Bowser again! This time we won’t have any superstar to help us out.” “But I’ll have you, won’t I? And nothing can hurt us as long-” “-As long as we’re together. I know. I know. I just…” Mario trailed off, unable to quite find the words to explain why he was so uncertain. There was more to his hesitation than just a desire to allow Luigi to make his own choices. At this point, his choice his clear. But ever since the incident in the warp pipe (and everything that followed), Mario had become far too aware of the effect his actions had on his brother. He suspected that was why he had this ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach that if they took on this mission as a team, something terrible would happen. Luigi sighed. He gave the tops of his hands an anxious rub before he spoke again. “Look, Mario, I won’t go if you don’t want me to, but first you gotta look me in the eye and say it…” He leaned down so they were face-to-face, and stared at him with a somewhat comedic intensity. “… Just say ‘Luigi, I don’t want you to come with me,’ and I’ll leave you to it. Promise.” In the end, Mario didn’t have the heart to say it. His nagging fear did not outweigh his desire to embark on this adventure with his brother by his side, and part of him knew Luigi wouldn’t have given that ultimatum if he suspected he’d actually follow through. He wanted to come, that much was clear. Who was he to tell him “no”? And it had gone so well up until the end! They were as good adventurers as they were plumbers, if not better. Mario was certain he wouldn’t of gotten half as far as he did without Luigi watching his back, and whenever Luigi was scared or cornered all he needed to do was shout “Mario” and– ___

Before he could finish the thought, Mario felt his heart seize up. His whole body felt in free-fall when he suddenly realized what Luigi had been trying to say earlier through shattered teeth and a broken jaw. Mario. “My name.” Mario looked up from his daze with a frantic desperation. “He was trying to… oh Luigi…” As the world came back into view, Mario saw that there were toad guards scattered about, working on the wrecked airship to unload its artillery and ensure that the fire was fully put out. A few of them startled when Mario moved, most of them giving sympathetic glances before returning to work, but the only truly familiar face to be seen anywhere was Toad. He was holding out his umbrella, dedicating its entirety to shielding Mario from the steadily increasing downpour, paying no mind to how soaked his own clothes were becoming with every passing second. When Toad saw Mario finally recover his senses he couldn’t help but smile with relief as he stepped a little closer.

“Hey! You' okay?” “Luigi.” Mario gasped like he was coming up for air, “Where’s Luigi?” “Don’t worry, he’s safe. The Princess is with him. He’s going to– well, he’s probably at a hospital by now. We can–” He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Mario bolted toward town. Toad tried to fold his umbrella and put it away, but finding he didn’t quite have the time he simply tossed it aside before chasing after his friend, struggling to keep up with the plumber through the heavy rain.

#my writing #the one to blame #Mario #Luigi #Princess Peach #Toad #angst #blood cw #injury cw #Mario Movie #super mario bros #piano can write

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usafphantom2 · 1 month

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18th March 1945. First flight of the Douglas AD/A-1 Skyraider attack aircraft. Rugged, long ranged and able to carry up to 8,000lbs of ordnance, it arrived too late for the Second World War. Skyraiders saw extensive use in Korea, and despite being gradually replaced by jets, continued into service in Vietnam.

Pictured:

1) Prototype XBT2D-1. The aircraft was optimised from the outset for ground attack, with a long loiter time, armour protection and the largest possible payload.

📷 historynet.com

2) An AD-4 Skyraider of (VA) 65 launches from the carrier Philippine Sea for a combat mission over Korea in 1951. It was during the Korean War that the Skyraider solidified its reputation as one of the finest attack and close air support aircraft ever built, though over 100 were lost in combat.

📷 history.navy.mil

3) A number of Skyraider variants were developed, including an Airborne Early Warning (AEW) platform. These were used by the Royal Navy before the arrival of the Fairey Gannet in 1960. The same AN/APS-20 radars from the Skyraiders were first used by their replacements, then on the Shackleton AEW.2 until 1991! In this photo, the first aircraft are being delivered in Glasgow, November 1951.

📷©️IWM A 32018A

4) Although US Navy Skyraiders flew their last mission over Vietnam in early 1968, the ‘Spad’ continued in operation with the USAF until 1972, covering Search and Rescue missions. This aircraft, pictured in June 1970, is carrying a typical mixed load of gunpods, rockets and bombs in addition to the 4x20mm wing guns. Incredibly, Skyraiders shot down two MiG 17s, but 266 were lost, almost all to ground fire.

📷 armytimes.com

@JamieMctrusty via X

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blurredcolour · 5 months

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You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part One

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

The 101st Airborne's jump into Normandy is filled with unexpected surprises for all parties involved.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Weapons, Death, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Shout out to my bilingual friend who double checked my French lines for me. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 4809

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Paris – December 10, 1944

The sea of humanity in Gare du Nord was overwhelming as Dick Winters stepped off the train from Mourmelon-le-Grand. Though it was mid-morning on a Sunday, it seemed like everyone was on the move. His height had him standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd as he made his way down the platform toward the exit, nearly bumping into a woman dressed in an olive drab uniform.

“Sorry –” He reflexively apologized in English before correcting it to the local French, though his pronunciation left a lot to be desired. “Excusez-moi.”

You turned back to him, eyes widening with recognition as they flicked over his face. “A captain now.” You smiled as your gaze eventually settled onto the two bars shining on the garrison cap of his Class-A uniform.

“A Canadian now.” He replied as his own eyes settled on the patch embroidered on your shoulder. The hip length jacket, A-line skirt, and peaked cap of the uniform suited you. “Or were you always, Charlotte?” The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his green eyes met yours.

He did not miss your visible swallow before you recovered with an even warmer smile than before. “I’m sorry you’ve got me confused with my good friend Charlotte Roussel. She’s told me all about you.” You offered your gloved hand to shake as you introduced yourself properly, though he wondered if it was just another cover identity.

Taking your hand in his, he shook it firmly with a bemused expression playing on his face. “Dick Winters. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Captain. If you are in need of a place to stay, I happen to have a recently vacated room in my apartment I would be happy to loan to you, free of charge. The hotels in Paris would love nothing more than to liberate you of your American dollars.”

Dick eyed you curiously, still as full of questions as the last time he had seen you in early June, yet you continued to obfuscate. “I wouldn’t want to impose…” He replied in the time-honored tradition of the polite refusal that preceded acceptance.

“Not at all. Besides, Charlotte would not forgive me if I did not repay you for saving her life.” You insisted with a nod, and he swallowed, noticing the way you now wore your hair to carefully cover your forehead beneath your uniform cap.

“If I remember it correctly, she saved mine first.”

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Normandy – June 6, 1944

After the rattling and jostling of the plane as it flew through clouds and flak, the drop onto French soil had felt peaceful in comparison. Granted of course, there was the constant awareness that enemy fire could find him on his way to the ground, but by some miracle he made it in one piece. The same could not be said of his leg bag.

After linking up with Hall from Able company, the pair had set off into the woods with only one M1 Garand between them. Dick had done his best to remain calm and reassuring despite how poorly the night seemed to be unfolding already. Small touches of humor appeared to calm the young man’s nerves but they both remained hyper vigilant to all sounds around them. Roughly ten minutes from their rendezvous they heard a noise to their right and Dick signalled for them both to halt and get low, but before Hall could level his weapon, they were face-to-face with the muzzle of German K-98 rifle.

Preparing to lunge at the soldier’s legs, Dick was brought up short when a figure in dark clothing jumped onto the man’s back, clamping a gloved hand over his mouth before burying a knife into the side of his neck. The unexpected weight thankfully pulled the weapon toward the sky before the soldier squeezed off a few rounds in the struggle, but the brutally efficient downward stroke of their blade had the soldier quickly collapsing to the ground, neutralized. Left standing was a woman clad in what first looked like a skirt but was in fact very wide-legged slacks and a wool sweater with a cap over her hair and a scarf covering her neck and face up to her eyes.

“Parlez-vous Francais?” You asked in an elevated whisper as you crouched down to wipe the blade of your knife clean on a corner of the dead man’s uniform jacket.

Dick and Hall both shook their heads in silence, dumbfounded.

“Welcome to France.” You smiled a little as you pulled down your scarf to reveal the rest of your face.

Dick was struck by many things in that moment, first and foremost being how beautiful you were, which he quickly compartmentalized as he’d been well trained to do. The second was the lack of a French accent, of any accent to your English. You almost sounded American and yet…

The stirring of brush to the left had them tensing once more before a young man of no more than sixteen, tall but obviously underfed and in clothes that had fit him several inches ago, emerged to pick up the German rifle from the forest floor. The function returned to Dick’s brain all at once and he looked back to you quickly.

“Resistance?”

You nodded in confirmation, glancing between the pair of them before turning to the young man. “Emile, donne le fusil au lieutenant.”

“Mais Charlotte…” He protested, gesturing at the older rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Maitenant, Ils auront une nuit pire que la notre.” You replied in a firm tone that brooked no argument and he handed it over to Dick who thanked him with a nod.

Hall immediately began to dig through the fallen soldier’s pockets to find him some more ammo.

“You’re a lot further inland than we were expecting you.” Your comment brought Dick’s attention back to you and he did his best not to let his annoyance at the situation show.

“Any idea where we’ve ended up?” He asked as he took what Hall was able to scrounge with a nod of thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his ODs.

“Half a kilometre outside St. Mere Eglise. You have a map?” You asked with a tilt of your head, and he hesitated a moment, knowing that while he did, it was covered in confidential material. He watched as a knowing smirk stretched your lips. “I have one without your top-secret information, one moment.”

You raised up on your knees to tuck your knife into the sheath at your hip before reaching up the back of your sweater, the motion inadvertently pulling the fabric higher to reveal the skin of your midriff. He quickly averted his eyes to the tree canopy above, wondering when the training on attractive female Resistance fighters was supposed to have been delivered.

The sound of rustling paper had him glancing carefully toward the ground and he relaxed to see you unfolding a map across the leaves and pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. The four of you gathered around as you took out a lighter, using the weak light from the flame to point out your rough position.

“Easiest way to the coast is the railroad tracks – keep off the roads. There is a squad of about ten Nazis with two officers on a horse-drawn wagon. They are making their way to their favourite spot here.” You tapped the map further into the woods.

“Favorite spot?” He prompted quietly.

“To make members of the Resistance disappear.” You replied grimly, glancing at the simple watch on your wrist. “We set explosives here,” you tapped a spot along the rail line further inland, “to detonate about now. That should help you find your way?” You looked up to him just as the explosion sounded in the distance, a column of orange lighting the sky.

“Bravo, Charlotte. À l’heure juste.” Emile beamed at you, and you nodded in reply with a grin of satisfaction.

“Merci. Any questions, gentlemen?” You asked turning back to the two Americans.

“None. Thank you, Charlotte. Be careful out here.” Dick replied earnestly, hoping you were not headed to the German’s so-called favorite spot, but he held his suspicions.

“Same to you.” You nodded firmly folding up the map as he tapped Hall on the shoulder and the pair began to make their way towards the rail line.

You had been right, the explosion made an excellent beacon. The situation continued to improve when he reconnected with Lipton, Guarnere, Malarkey, Wynn, Toye, and two boys from the 82nd. When he heard the whinny of a horse, he realized you had also given him an accurate warning about the group of Germans. While Dick presumed it was usually preferable for Resistance to avoid confrontation, with the numbers he had gathered, he preferred to eliminate the threat and arranged an ambush. Mercifully Guarnere’s premature action did not result in the failure of their attack and the men went about cleaning up the mess while Dick took a moment to reprimand him.

They were about to depart down the road when a rustling in the trees caught the hot-headed Sergeant’s ear. “Flash!” He barked out the password challenge in his brash Philly accent, sending everyone’s eyes towards the edge of the road where you stood, flanked by Emile and two other men Dick didn’t recognize.

“Thunder.” He rapidly replied on your behalf. “Don’t shoot, they’re Resistance.” He elaborated, coming to stand beside Guarnere.

“Merci, Lieutenant.” You exhaled. Your reply was muffled behind your scarf, but the relief was still audible.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a dame!” Guarnere hissed, pouring his excess adrenaline into his outburst.

Your barely smothered laugh reached Dick’s ears, making him swallow reflexively as the group watched you make your way to the back of the wagon. One of the older men, his clothes gone baggy under German occupation, carrying a weapon from the last war, grasped a corner of the tarp laying across some hidden cargo. Together you pulled it back to reveal the bodies of two more of your comrades.

“Merde.” Emile choked out and turned to take out his frustrations by kicking one of the fallen Germans at his feet.

Dick could not help the frown as he walked to the back of the wagon, his eyes falling on the form of a young boy no older than twelve.

“Goddamn he’s just a kid…” Malarkey uttered in dismay.

“They’ve got women and kids fighting out here for fuck’s sake.” Toye growled, slamming his helmet onto his head as he wrenched his eyes away from the scene, moving to take watch to the head of the wagon, obviously impatient to get moving.

“I’m sorry it’s not the outcome you were hoping for.” He looked to your eyes, wishing that scarf wasn’t hiding your face.

“But not unexpected.” You muttered back, straightening your sweater before leaning forward over the boy’s body.

“What will you do?” Dick asked as you grasped the boy’s lifeless arm and slung his torso across your shoulders, hugging his legs close to your body beneath your other arm.

“The only thing we can do - take him home to his mother, so she can bury him.” You replied as the fourth man with you, mid-forties with a build not unlike Randleman’s though still wasted away some, stepped forward to gather the remains of the twenty-something still on the wagon. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good luck.” You met his eyes briefly, revealing your own glistening with unshed tears, before disappearing through the trees the way you had come.

The next twenty hours passed in a blur – finally reaching the assembly point, destroying the 105mm guns at Brécourt, losing Hall. Would that he could return the boy to his mother as you had been able to do with your fallen. As Dick watched Nixon open the can of food he’d been struggling with, he sighed deeply.

“Met a Resistance fighter in the woods after I landed – she spoke perfect English, Nix. No trace of any accent, at all. The men were all looking to her for direction.”

Nixon raised his eyes to meet his meaningfully. “No shit…” He blinked and handed him the successfully opened food. “Sounds to me like you met a genuine SOE agent assigned to ‘set Europe ablaze.’” His tone was dripping with envy. “Division wasn’t entirely convinced by Churchill’s boasts. She must be one tough broad.”

“She seemed pretty proficient, Lew.” Dick replied with poorly concealed admiration, eyeing the contents of the can reluctantly.

“We ought to send Churchill a thank you card, then.” He smirked knowingly.

Dick let out a half-hearted laugh before his face fell serious once more. He looked to his boots before confessing to the loss of Hall, which Nixon tried to make up for by reassuring him the map he’d retrieved would be useful. Surrendering the food with the excuse of lack of appetite, Dick wandered off lost in thought.

Honestly never expecting to lay eyes upon you again, he was stunned to see you in a hamlet somewhere between Culoville and Vierville the next day. It was no more than a tiny cluster of buildings on both sides of the road, too small to earn a name on the map. The road was clogged with refugees, fleeing the conflict, slowing the progress of the armored division they were meant to be traveling with.

Dick had diverted Easy across a nearby field behind the hedgerow, bringing them to a halt to plan their final approach, his officers naturally gathering around him.

“Christ there’s civilians everywhere.” Welsh hissed under his breath as they peered through the foliage.

“So, who’s going to knock on the door?” Compton grinned, his bulk barely concealed by the late spring greenery.

Dick paused, squinting through his binoculars as he watched you carefully set your wagon, filled with suitcases and other belongings like any other refugee, beneath the window of a café. Your gaze was fixed on the boulangerie across the lane, seeming of a mind to purchase some food for your travels. His eyes followed as you wended your way through the dwindling stream of people, clad in a spring jacket with a worn brown dress beneath, a pair of dusty boots on your feet. You stood out to no one but him.

“Dick?” Nixon prompted in a hushed whisper.

“Hold. The Resistance is here. Which means we most likely have Germans lurking nearby.”

“Resistance?” Nixon’s eyes widened as he fumbled with his jacket to retrieve his own binoculars. “You mean she’s here?!” He whirled to face the road, his movements made less than graceful by his excitement, and Dick barely contained his amused grin as you had already vanished inside the bakery.

His amusement did not last long, unfortunately, as a red-faced German solider came charging out of the café.

“Bingo.” Nixon breathed quietly.

Dick’s lips pressed into a grimace as the man re-emerged shortly thereafter dragging you by a fistful of your hair, shouting and pointing at your wagon. Any remaining civilians on the road quickly scattered into the other buildings or the fields beyond.

“He’s upset about the wagon.”

“You don’t say, Nixon” Compton replied sarcastically, a furrow forming between his brows.

Your voice carried to them, the pleading tone laced with fear making Dick tighten his grip on his binoculars. He could tell you were speaking a mixture of French and German, but not much more than that. “Lew?”

“Please in German…Please in French. I was just getting food. I’m sorry in German. I’m trying to get away from the Americans in French. The death in German. Please.”

Dick could hear the men shifting restlessly around him and lifted his head. “Tell them to hold, not yet. That café has got to be full of Germans. Plan on snipers in the fourth and fifth buildings as well.” He described the assault plan for each of the squads as your pleas continued to ring out parried by barked commands from the increasingly perturbed soldier. “But wait for my signal.” He nodded firmly to dismiss them, and they hurried off to their respective platoons.

Dick wanted to trust that you had the situation in hand, but this surely could not be unfolding according to your plan. He raised his binoculars once more to see you desperately plant your hands on the soldier’s chest, several men drawing a collective breath. Dick narrowed his eyes as your gaze shifted to the left, toward the face of your watch glinting in the afternoon sunlight. He tensed noting your proximity to that wagon, convinced now more than ever that it was filled with explosives.

The sharp ‘smack’ of the German’s glove impacting your cheek had your head snapping to the side in a way that had Dick seeing red.

“I’m going to kill him myself.” Nixon hissed under his breath, but Dick didn’t have time to respond as, surging forward, you slammed your forehead into the soldier’s nose, a bloom of red flooding down his face and yours.

He held his breath as you seemed to stumble back, a bit dazed as a commotion sounded from within the café, but he was able to exhale as you regained your feet and used your ankle to sweep the man’s jackboots right out from beneath him. Dick glanced to the wagon once more with apprehension as you yourself dove to the ground before grabbing the back of the dazed soldier’s coat and hauled his body over yours. He had barely shifted his gaze to the collection of five Germans in the doorway when the wagon exploded violently.

“Right on time…” He muttered to himself, tucking his binoculars away and preparing to advance.

Nixon turned to stare at him, speechless.

“Don’t.” He replied warningly, still unsure if you had survived the blast, giving the debris a moment to settle before he gave the signal, heading straight up the road to you.

Much to everyone’s annoyance, the telltale sound of Shermans approached from further up the road – just in time to get all the glory without really having to do any of the work. As planned, the men peeled off to clear each of the buildings as Dick rolled the dead German off your body. He watched with bated breath as Roe appeared at his side to check your pulse, nodding up to him.

“She’s alive, sir.”

The road was filled with broken glass from the explosion, and fearing for the bare skin of your legs, Dick had Roe help carry you into the bakery as Malarkey reported it clear, the medic sliding his arms beneath your shoulders. Dick did his best to ignore how soft the backs of your knees felt against his fingertips as he managed your legs. They laid you down on the floor in the back room amongst abandoned baking supplies and he swallowed as your eyes fluttered open.

“Charlotte, you’re alright, Doc’s just going to look you over, ok?”

You furrowed your brows and glanced down at Roe as he undid your coat, looking you over for injuries aside from the obvious scrapes as Dick quickly pressed a bandage to the split in your forehead from where you had broken the German’s nose.

“You’re in good hands, I need to go back out there alright?”

You sighed heavily and he looked to your eyes quickly.

“I’m sure you’re speaking in that fucking wonderful American accent of yours, Lieutenant but I cannot hear a fucking thing. I’m sorry.” You spoke, seemingly unaware that your voice was obnoxiously loud.

Dick grimaced at your language as Roe barely contained his scoff of laughter before Dick nodded to you to show that he understood. Eyes pinning yours, he pointed at you firmly before forcefully pointing at the floor.

“Stay here. Understood.” You replied with a nod, a loud groan quickly overtaking your voice.

Dick hesitated a moment, but Roe was already looking over your face and into your eyes. There was really nothing for him to do here and his men needed him outside. Securing his helmet on his head, he dashed back out into the afternoon sunshine. Aside from one sniper’s nest three buildings down the road, which was easily managed with the help of the armored division, the hamlet was secured with only one minor incident involving Muck and some broken glass.

At Nixon’s urging, which Dick allowed to play out much longer than was needed to convince him, he ordered two stretcher bearers to accompany him back to the bakery to fetch you. He was encouraged to find you sitting with your back propped up against the wall, looking more alert with your knife grasped with one hand, though you had not seemed to have had the wherewithal to unsheathe it. He crouched down in front of you carefully, sliding his helmet from his head.

“I’m just going to take that from you, there Charlotte.” He wasn’t sure why he was speaking, fully aware that you could not hear him, but your grip loosened on the weapon as he reached for it.

“Alright.” You murmured softly in response and his eyes snapped to yours.

“You can hear again?” He asked as he tucked the knife into the pocket of his ODs.

You began to nod before halting the movement abruptly. “Mostly…”

“Good. That’s good.” He smiled briefly. “Do you have any other weapons on you?”

“No.” You replied after a thoughtful pause and patting of your coat pockets.

He nodded before standing, addressing the men lingering in the doorway. “Take her to the aid station, Lieutenant Nixon and I will be there as soon as we can.”

They responded with a chorus of ‘yes sirs!’ before he stepped back out to deliver orders for the company to take a rest while they awaited their next set of instructions. It was not long before they were told to proceed to Vierville where Colonel Sink had set up the battalion command post. It was also, conveniently, where the aid station was located. Once the men were situated for the night, Dick and Nixon quickly made their way to hotel that had been taken over as a medical facility.

They had barely walked in the door, the copper tang of blood just meeting their noses, before the battalion surgeon was calling out to him.

“Winters! Why in the hell did you send me a civilian?!”

“Strategic intelligence asset, sir.” Nixon replied smoothly, stepping in front of Dick to take the heat. “Where might we find her?”

“In one of the back offices. She cannot stay here. She needs to go a hospital whenever you’re done…whatever you’re doing.” He narrowed his eyes skeptically, hands on his hips as made his way over to them between the rows of cots set up in the lobby.

“She going to be alright, sir?” Dick asked, tone carefully neutral.

“Concussion, lacerations, bruising, three stitches to the forehead, hearing gradually returning. Overall malnourishment like all the French civilians. She’ll be fine after a week or two.” He muttered. “In a civilian hospital.”

“Yes sir.” Nixon replied quickly with a grin, grabbing Dick’s arm and pulling him towards the aforementioned office.

For all his bluster, the pair were amused to find the surgeon had set you up in a rather nice space, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of hot coffee in your hands. Though judging by the grimace you made after taking a sip, it wasn’t to your taste. Your hair pins must have fallen out during the struggle and subsequent transport as the style you’d been wearing that afternoon was lost, and a few swathes of gauze now encircled your head to hold a bandage in place over your stitches.

He knocked on the door frame quietly and you looked up, smiling at little, your eyes shifting to look at Nixon.

“Charlotte, this is Lieutenant Nixon.” Dick introduced his friend who quickly stepped forward to offer his hand.

“Lewis, please.” You took it carefully, shaking it in return.

“Charlotte Roussel.” You replied.

“Would it be alright if we asked you some questions?” Dick tilted his head, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” You almost nodded again but caught yourself more quickly this time.

Dick stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and perching on the edge of the desk as Nixon took the only chair. He tried not to grin as you sipped the coffee and grimaced once more, obviously failing to conceal his reaction as you apologized.

“It’s very bitter, but very appreciated.”

“I won’t tell the surgeon.” He nodded with a conspiratorial look.

“So, Dick tells me you’re with the Resistance?” Nixon spoke after a moment of watching your exchange.

Your eyes slid over to Dick, and he tensed, briefly concerned you might be upset with him, before you looked back to Nixon. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Any information you might be able to share with us would be of great assistance.” Nixon nodded encouragingly.

“Well, all of my documents were quite recently destroyed but I’d be happy to share what I remember with you. Do you have a map?” Your question echoed one of the first you’d asked him and pulled a small smile from Dick’s lips.

He watched quietly as Nixon produced as clean map of the area and you easily provided all the information you had on which German troops were stationed where, between wincing sips of the hot drink cupped between your hands. The intelligence officer thrust out his palm about halfway through and Dick patted down his ODs until he produced a pencil for his friend, passing it to him so he might jot down the volume of information you were able to impart.

“And what about yourself, Miss Roussel?” Nixon looked up to you once he’d acquired all your knowledge of military use.

“Me?” You blinked innocently.

“Tell us about yourself.” Nixon nodded encouragingly, leaning back in his chair.

Dick noted the way your fingers tightened slightly on the mug, and he realized it bore the logo of the requisitioned hotel, but otherwise your demeanor remained calm and collected. “I was born just outside Paris in 1920. My aunt and uncle have a farm near St. Mere Eglise. They have no children of their own and when my Uncle Phillipe was killed during the invasion my Aunt Sophie asked if I could come help her. There is more to eat out here than Paris anyway, where you can grow it.”

“Why do you speak such good English?” Dick asked, unable to help himself.

Your eyes turned to meet his curiously. “I was a university student before the war, I had an excellent teacher from America. Ms. Jones. She was able to go home before the Nazis arrived.”

There was a touch of envy there, and though Dick was convinced you were selling them a very good story, the desire for ‘home’ struck him as true. He watched as you leaned back against the wall wearily, your eyelids growing heavier.

“You’ve never been to England?” Nixon prodded.

“No, Lieutenant Nixon. I’ve never left France.”

“Your experience with explosives? Who taught you that?”

“Antoine. He fought in the last war, he was a sapper. He was there after you took out the Germans who had captured our comrades.” You looked to Dick who nodded in reply, recalling the elderly man who easily could have fit that description.

He heard his friend sigh a little in frustration as you seemed to have a perfectly reasonable answer for everything – answers that were not what he was wanting to hear. A sharp knock on the door drew the attention of the group and Dick raised his head.

“Enter.”

A runner from Colonel Sink popped his head in the door and Dick sighed internally knowing they had run out of time. “Lieutenants, Colonel Sink has requested the pair of you at battalion CP immediately.”

“Right, thank you Sergeant. We’re on our way.” He looked to Nixon who sighed audibly in defeat before the pair looked to you.

You were barely keeping your eyes open, the mug in your hand tilting precariously. Dick carefully took it from your hold and set it on the desk.

“Thank you very much for your assistance, Miss Roussel. Do take care.” He stood, wishing there was something better to say, but there was too much to do. The landing had barely taken place and was by no means a sure success yet. The best thing he could do for you was to get out there and liberate France entirely.

“I’ll see to it that you’re transferred to a hospital as soon as we can.” Nixon added.

“You’re welcome, Lieutenants. And thank you.” You replied, Dick swallowing as he could feel your gaze following him out of the room.

-------------------------

Read Part Two

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers

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riordanness · 7 months

Text

delicate - [l.valdez]

1.6K wordcount

warnings: mentions of nightmares,, super old writing so proceed with cringe warning

requested: no

a/n: i wrote this in quarantine, early 2021. i lowkey predicted the future w this fic bc i was obsessed w the colour maroon at the time and made y/n wear a maroon coloured taylor swift shirt… never guessing that she would release a song called maroon?? so yeah, fun fact <3

I sat bolt upright in bed, my head pounding. It took me what seemed like forever to calm down, even thought it was likely to have only been a handful of moments. I forced myself to steady my breath, and realise I was safe. My hands were tightly clutched around my sheets, and that helped to ground my thoughts a little.

I looked around my familiar cabin and took a deep breath. My fairy lights shined softly on the walls, making me feel cozy and warm. I had specifically requested fairy lights. They'd always been so reassuring and calming to me, what for I had no clue. But Leo had been all to ready to equip me with fairy lights in my cabin, so I was glad I had asked him for them. They always helped with the nightmares.

I carefully slipped out from under the covers and put on my sneakers. I fumbled through my chest drawer and pulled out a black zip-up jacket I had stolen from Leo, and yanked that on too. I had black leggings and a maroon Taylor Swift T-shirt on, so I felt warm enough to go outside, where the freezing Greek air would surely be uncomfortable.

I needed to clear my head, and get some fresh air, and talk to someone. All that would happen on deck, where there was bound to be at least one crew member on duty. Besides, Leo never went to bed, it seemed. He would most certainly be up there, and I needed to see my best friend right now.

I tiptoed past the other demigods' cabin doors, trying not to wake anyone up. I had no wish to anger anybody who slept with a sword constantly by their side.

I crept upstairs and came out onto the deck, the moon covering the world with a ghostly layer of magical light. I loved the moon. If Artemis, the moon goddess, wasn't a maiden goddess and actually had demigod kids, I'd've given anything to be her daughter. She was definitely one of the best Greek goddesses.

As I'd suspected, Leo was still awake, even though it was probably at least three in the morning by now. He stood with his back to me, tinkering with something on the ships' control board. I stood there for a few seconds, biting my lip and staring at his figure in the dim light, debating whether to bother him or not. In the end, I decided to walk over.

"Hey," I said quietly over Leo's shoulder.

He flinched, looking up at me with startled dark eyes. "Jeez, carinó, don't scare a man like that!”

My eyes widened in sudden alarm. "I'm sorry!"

Leo managed to crack a smile for me. "No, it's fine. Hey."

He turned back to the controls. "I'm just turning off the sonar and switching to radar. We're going airborne soon. Percy's gone downstairs, and it's Jason's turn to watch."

I nodded. "Okay." I knew what he was doing. I didn't dare one but for that kind of information, it was useless to me and I usually forgot it in about four seconds. Leo did it because he knew I adored listening to his voice. His accent was so calming to me, just like fairy lights and Taylor Swift songs were.

I loved him so much for doing that for me. I was so lucky to have this boy in my life.

There was silence for a few minutes. That was the way it usually was with Leo and I. We were comfortable with whatever. If we wanted to talk, we did talk, about everything and anything. But if one of us felt like being quiet, that worked too. It was just nice to be with each other, together.

We didn't have to be talking to enjoy each other's company, and I loved that about him too.

"I had a nightmare..." I said at last, drawing out the words, as if me saying them slower would make it harder for Leo to understand them.

Leo's eyes immediately snapped to meet mine. "You did?" His voice flooded with concern. "Are you okay? Was it that same one, or different? Was it a vision, or —?"

I laughed lightly. "Calm down... I..." My smile dropped as I reflected on my nightmare. "It was..."

I shuddered. "Um, it was bad. I just... I just wanted to be around someone. I didn't want to be alone in my cabin."

Leo nodded. He reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. His touch sent a tingle up my spine. Leo didn't really do touching; I think he was wary around it with his fire powers, so it was nice, but a little strange, to hold his hand.

"Come on," Leo said. "I'm done here. Festus will guard until Jason gets his lazy butt out of bed. I want to show you something."

I managed a smile. "Okay, Repair Boy."

"Hey, don't call me that!"

"Why not?" I reasoned. "You call me carinó, and I don't even know what that means."

Leo's eyes glittered with mirth, as if he was sharing an inside joke with himself. "Well... fine then."

He led me by the hand downstairs. We passed a bleary-eyed Jason on the steps, who nodded mutely at us and kept going. Hopefully he wakes up enough to fight off any monsters who decides our ship looked tasty.

Leo led me past the cabin doors, careful to walk quietly. When he started down the second level of steps, I raised my eyebrows.

"I've never been down here," I whispered.

"I know," he whispered back. A nervous, but excited shiver ran down my back.

Leo pushed open the first door on the left. Inside, an intricate engine (at least I think it was an engine) took up most of the room. Pipes and cords ran absolutely everywhere, winding around and around each other.

Random work tools rolled along the floor every time the ship listed sideways, spanners and hammers and screws going everywhere. The engine hummed softly, filling the air with a pleasant kind of feeling. I instantly understood why Leo liked this place. I know he often spent a lot of time in here, and I could now see why. It was exactly his sort of room.

"Wow, Leo," I said. "You built all this? You're amazing."

Leo blushed. "Thanks, carinó."

I glanced at him with a smile, and he looked confused. "What?"

"Nothing," I said slowly. "I'm just really glad you're my best friend." I gave his hand a squeeze.

Leo looked away. "Uh, great, well..."

"You wanted to show me something?" I prompted.

"Oh yeah!" He pulled me along as he walked to a cabinet against one wall. He opened one of the drawers, dug through it, closes it, opened another one, and smiled triumphantly.

"Close your eyes, carinó," he told me.

I did so immediately. After all, I trusted Leo completely. Okay, maybe not with shaving foam or my wallet, but for anything else? Of course.

Leo suddenly laced his fingers through mine. "Open them," he said, his voice low and kinda gravelly.

I slowly opened my eyes. Leo held out his palm.

On it, a beautiful necklace lay. A beautiful, incredibly intricate flower was made out of see-through gold, hung on a thin gold chain.

I gasped softly. "Oh, Leo..." I didn't know what to say. "It's... it's beautiful. Oh, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"It's not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Leo muttered. "I mean, uh, thanks. I made it for you."

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. "It's amazing. You're amazing. Thank you."

Leo pulled away, laughing a little. "Okay, okay. Here. Want me to put it on for you?"

I nodded. He carefully stepped behind me and fastened the clasp around my neck. The necklace laid on my chest, and I gazed at it for a moment, before smiling up at Leo.

"Thank you so much, Leo," I said. "It's the best thing I've ever received in my life."

"Really?" Leo seemed surprised. "Well, let's see how many times I can break that record."

Before I knew what was happening, Leo stepped forward, cupped his hand around my cheek and gently pressed his mouth to mine. He only kissed me for a second, moved backwards, red as a beet, and opened his mouth, stammering, "Oh, I just... did that. I— I'm sorry —"

I smiled dryly. "Don't you dare be sorry." I stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, longer this time.

I felt like I was on fire. I wasn't, and neither was Leo (thankfully), but my entire body was hot all over. I don't know how long we would've stayed there, but someone decided enough was enough.

"Hey, Leo, are you — holy Hera!" Jason stumbled into the doorframe. "Uh..."

Leo and I broke apart. His face was a red as mine felt. "Oh! Hi Jason." Leo grinned. "What's up?"

Jason pursed his lips. "I... uh, I forgot. What the Hades are you two doing?"

"Making out," Leo replied.

"Leo!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn’t put it that way! That’s so… crude sounding.”

"Oh. Okay. We weren’t doing that then," Leo agreed. "What's wrong, J-man?"

Jason looked confused. "Um, well... we're nearly to Athens. None of us can work out your controls, Leo, so you need to come and uh, work your magic."

Leo nodded. "We'll be right there."

Jason disappeared up the hall. Leo and I glanced at each other.

"So?" Leo asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"So... what?" I asked back.

"Did I break my record?" He grinned cheekily. "Of the best things you've ever received?"

I blushed. "I guess so. Yeah. Yeah you did, Repair Boy."

"Good," Leo said, grabbing my hand again and pulling me towards the deck. "Now, let's go save the world, together."

#leo valdez #fanfiction #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfiction #leo valdez x reader #rick riordan

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tomorrowusa · 3 months

Text

Ukraine just put two key Russian military aircraft out of commission. It will now be more difficult for Russia to direct operations against Ukraine.

The Ukrainian Air Force shot down a Russian A-50M/U intelligence gathering plane – somewhat similar to US Air Force E-3 Sentry (AWACS) aircraft. And it severely damaged an Il-22M11 command and control aircraft which was able to land but is beyond repair.

It’s official. Russian and Ukrainian sources have confirmed that Ukrainian air-defenses on Sunday hit, over southern Ukraine and the Sea of Azov, two of Russia’s rarest and most valuable support planes: a Beriev A-50 radar early-warning plane and an Ilyushin Il-22 airborne command post. “Who did this?” the Ukrainian air force quipped. The answer, it seems, is the air arm’s 90-mile-range Patriot PAC-2 air-defense missiles. The jet-propelled A-50—one of nine A-50M/Us in service—fell into the Sea of Azov in flames, likely killing everyone on board: potentially 15 people including high-ranking officers and highly-trained radar specialists. The propeller-driven Il-22, with up to 10 people aboard, managed to land in Anapa on the Russian side of the Sea of Azov’s southern coast. “Urgently requesting ambulance and fire crew,” the crew radioed as they wrestled their shrapnel-holed plane toward the air base. Photos of the damaged Il-22, snapped after it landed, illustrate the extent of the damage—a mangled tail fin and fuselage—and also reveal the plane’s exact variant. It’s an Il-22M11, and it might be a total write-off. This version of the 1950s-vintage Ilyushin turboprop is rare. The Russian air force has maybe 12 Il-22Ms after mutinous Wagner Group mercenaries shot down one of the planes over western Russia back in June. While the Russians could modify an old Ilyushin airframe into a replacement Il-22M, they probably can’t do so quickly—or cheaply. An A-50 or Il-22M might cost hundreds of millions of dollars.

Russia had only about ten of the A-50 planes. One was blown up by Belarusian partisans 11 months ago south of Minsk. And now one is sleeping with the fishes in the Sea of Azov.

Here are pictures of the Il-22M11 which was able to make an emergency landing at Anapa in Russia.

Just to rub it in to Putin, here's a graphic from Ukraine's military announcing its hits on the two Russian planes.

ЗНИЩЕНО = destroyed Повітряні Сили = Air Force

The two planes together would cost Russia over half a billion dollars to replace. 😁😎

#invasion of ukraine #ukraine #stand with ukraine #two key russian military planes destroyed #Il-22M11 #A-50M/U #patriot pac-2 missiles #sea of azov #defense of ukraine #russia's war of aggression #vladimir putin #russia is losing the war #агрессивная война россии #anapa #россия проигрывает войну #владимир путин #путин хуйло #путлер #добей путина #путин – это лжедмитрий iv а не пётр великий #руки прочь от украины!#геть з україни #вторгнення оркостану в україну #азовське море #повітряні сили україни #російські літаки-розвідники #україна переможе #будь сміливим як україна #слава україні!#героям слава!

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yeehawbvby · 1 year

Text

In Too Deep (Arven x GN!Reader) | Ch. 1*

Rating: Mature/Explicit | Warning: Pokémon Scarlet/Violet spoilers!

Summary: "A rough yank whips my face past Arven’s. He lets go. I yelp, feeling my body drift away from the group for a brief few milliseconds. Then, two strong hands find my sides and pull, planting me down onto the Pokémon.

…Oh no, I’m horny. I could’ve died, but instead of being mad or fearful, I’m being horny."

Author’s Note: My headcanon age for Arven is that he’s a young adult, somewhere between 20-24 years old. If this proves to be wrong in the future, please consider him to be aged up to this range! Likewise, for the sake of the continuity (i.e. Little Buddy and whatnot), you have a similarly tiny stature to the main character in Pokémon SV. For the sake of all of us, your character here is not a teenager lol, but instead roughly the same age as Arven, give or take a few years.

Thank you for understanding!! ^^ Enjoy and take care x

Check it out on ao3!

There’s no way I can do this.

I’ve ridden on the back of Raidon plenty — mostly on land, but sometimes soaring from high cliffs, and other times skiing on water. I trust this Pokémon with my life.

But this? This is way too high of a jump. There’s no way it’ll work.

I hear the bustle of my friends a dozen or so feet from beside me, climbing onto the motolizard in preparation for our flight. But in a daze, I kneel at the edge of the steel chamber, dreading the next few minutes. Unable to bring myself to move.

The drop into Area Zero begins high above the clouds, and ends on uncertain ground. We don’t know what’s down there, nor do we know what types of strange Pokémon might be flying with us on our way. Pokémon we could potentially crash into. Arven is the only one who can tell us what to expect, but he’s kept it vague, not wanting to have to recount his horrible experiences down there as a kid.

The sound of metal clunking against metal echoes through my ears. Looking up and to my right side, I see the group all ready to go, Raidon inching forward. My eyes widen with panic.

Oh… oh god, it’s time.

I begin to shuffle over, but the upturn of Raidon's front legs tells me I don’t have as much time as I think.

“GET ON!”

Reaching out towards Arven’s outstretched hand, I sprint to him. His smile says he’s amused, but the glint in his eye shows determination. Behind him, Nemona laughs delightfully, and behind Nemona, Penny smirks. Analyzing the situation. As if she’s calculating how high of a chance there is that if they don’t die here, I will.

Before Raidon can plummet, Arven’s and my fingertips touch. Before I can grab his hand, he bypasses my fingers and firmly grasps my wrist. My heart skips a beat at the contact.

In the next beat, I’m airborne.

My friends howl and cheer beside me. Treating the plunge like we’re dropping down a rollercoaster at fucking Super Nintendo World. I, on the other hand, am screaming bloody murder. Cursing out Arven for prompting Raidon down so early instead of waiting two goddamn seconds for me to climb on. Cursing out Arceus, too, for fabricating this situation for me in the first place.

It feels like my shoulder or my wrist — maybe both? — are about to fall out of their sockets. I want to cry and throw up and most importantly I want to grab Arven’s forearm with my other hand for feigned security, but the wind is too strong against me, and my nerves are too high to do much of anything.

After what seems like far too long, I feel a tug at my arm. My body glides forward as my teary eyes squint through the changing air pressure. A rough yank whips my face past Arven’s. He lets go. I yelp, feeling my body drift away from the group for a brief few milliseconds. Then, two strong hands find my sides and pull, planting me down onto the Pokémon.

How did he—??!

My hands instinctively grip onto Raidon’s horns, but my chest is still anxiously heaving, while butterfrees roam freely through my stomach.

The past few moments play on repeat in my head, mentally removing me from the present.

Arven’s calloused hand consuming my wrist. Arven demonstrating borderline superhuman strength, as he tugs all [redacted] pounds of me through the air. Arven’s large hands finding my hips and positioning me against his body; the back of my ass to the front of his groin, the outside of my short legs spread almost fully against the inside of his longer ones.

Oh no, I’m horny.

I could’ve died, but instead of being mad or fearful, I’m being horny.

I gasp as I feel a warm breath against my ear, followed by a whisper: “I’ve got you, bud.”

Arven punctuates the end of his sentence with a quick squeeze on my hips. The softness of his voice and sensation of his lips brushing my earlobe while he holds me like this sends a shiver down my spine.

Oh good god, that did not help anything!

A chirp from Raidon breaks me from my impure thoughts and reminds me to help it steer. I take a deep breath, sit up a bit straighter, and guide us down to safety.

We quickly determine upon landing that Area Zero is much prettier than any of us could’ve ever imagined. It’s abundant with waterfalls, creating rainbows in the distant mist. There’s an absurd amount of tera crystals, all in weird places; coating tree trunks, and seeming to sprout from the rocky edges of the crater more than from the land itself. Each beam of sunlight peeking through the thick clouds above bends to make even the smallest particles of pollen drifting through the breeze shine beautifully, as though the air itself is shimmering around us.

And the Pokémon – oh, don’t even get me started on how cool these things are. Before we could even find our bearings, Nemona was already running off to inspect them. Scared the shit out of Arven, Penny and I, sneaking away like that, but now that we’re seeing them for ourselves, nobody can blame her.

Some are made of metal, seemingly robotic in every sense of the word, just like Raidon. Others are only rarely found up on the mainland, such as Glimmora. Nemona and I have only ever encountered one prior to today because La Primera has one on her team, while Penny and Arven didn’t know it existed. The only downside to all of the cool Pokémon here is that one of them must have spooked Raidon really badly in the past. It returned itself to its ball earlier, and now refuses to come out, so we don’t have it as a mode of transport.

By the time the four of us come across the first research facility, as per the Professor’s instructions, we decide that’s a good stopping point for the day. With the sun setting and a bed and bathroom right here for our use – albeit they’re a bit worse for wear – it seems like this is the perfect time to rejuvenate our strength for the rest of our adventure.

Once we scope out the contents of the old lab reports that are scattered around, as well as decide on which direction to head the following day, Arven makes us some sandwiches. We use the last bit of daylight to remain outdoors, so as to avoid the stuffiness of the building we’re camping inside of.

The little bit of downtime while Arven works allows my thoughts to veer from the tasks at hand, and unfortunately, I’m right back where I was on Raidon. I’m totally spaced out. I have a stunning view of the depths of the crater right ahead of me, yet the only images in my mind consist of Arven.

Can’t stop myself from thinking of how his hands would feel on my bare sides. I’m unable to avoid fantasizing about how his lips would feel on mine, rather than merely brushing the cold tip of my ear; or of his hand easily gripping both of my wrists, holding them above me while he uses his lips elsewhere.

Saving me from myself, Nemona hops over to where I’m seated, recruiting me for dinner. Thank Arceus.

_______________

A few hours of eating, bonding, and bantering have passed, and now everyone is winding down for bed. Penny and Nemona bickered for the cot, only to settle on sharing it. Nemona knocked out almost as soon as she hit the old, mildewy pillow (eugh), while Penny opted to pop her earbuds in and play something on her Switch until she can fall asleep. Why she’d risk bringing that thing down here is beyond me.

That just leaves Arven and I to figure out where and how to sleep.

Great.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

He’s seated on a ready-to-break office chair, and I’m sitting near him, legs dangling off of the crescent-shaped desk…? Work station? Whatever this is. Arven and I look at each other, look at Arven’s empty sleeping bag on the ground, look at one another again, squint, and then simultaneously speak up:

“You can take my sleeping bag,” he says, while I proclaim, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No!” we – again, simultaneously – respond to one another. I deadpan him, while his brows furrow and he cocks his head at me.

“I’m not stealing your sleeping bag,” I quietly argue, not wanting to wake up Nemona or disturb Penny.

Arven rolls his eyes, then matches my tone. “It’s not stealing if I’m offering it to you. And I’m sure as hell not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, sorry, let me rephrase. I’m not accepting your offer.”

“Alright, so neither of us will use it. Does that sound better to you?”

“Why the fuck would that sound better?!” I whisper-yell. He shrugs. I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and sigh. “I’ll see if one of my Pokémon want to offer themselves up as my pillow.”

Arven sternly says my name. I hum inquisitively, grabbing a Pokéball from my backpack and inspecting it in my hand. I hear him sigh before he speaks up again. “We’re sharing it.”

My eyes widen and meet his. “P-pardon?”

“My sleeping bag.” He stands up and walks over to it, then lowers himself in. “We’ll share.” Arven holds up the edge, allowing space for me to crawl in with him.

“Isn’t it a bit… uh…”

“Little? Yeah, just like you,” he quips. “Works out perfectly, if you ask me.”

Heart ready to thump right out of my chest, I square my shoulders and look him in the eye. “...Fine!” I squeak. I hesitate before pushing off the desk, then meekly pad on over to him.

He snorts. “You’ve got the strength of a Champion, and have taken down four – technically five, if you count the lil’ sushi guy – Titan Pokémon. Pokémon that could’ve easily killed us both. What makes you so nervous about this?” he jests.

I feel my face heat up as I kneel down beside Arven. I grumble, “Shut up…” before sliding in next to him. “Should I… like…?” I ask, more to myself than to him, shuffling around to figure out which way to lay so that we can both comfortably fit.

Seeming to have thought I was talking to him – understandably so – Arven takes matters into his own hands.

Literally.

Oh god.

His hands meet my hips again, except this time, the tee I brought down here to sleep in rides up a little. One of his fingers presses the skin of my side, sending Gooserene-bumps across my body. Then, he flips me around and pulls the back of my body flush against him.

“C’mere, you little...” he trails off, pretending to be annoyed.

My brain takes a few seconds to process what’s happening. When I don’t zip up the sleeping bag right away, Arven reaches over me. There’s no way I’ll survive the night like this. The zipper makes it about an inch from its starting point before I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Uh, actually, I’m gonna go get some air. Head kinda hurts.”

I shimmy out from under Arven’s arm, and step out of the sleeping bag, promptly leaving the facility before he can say much of anything. There are enough lights planted on the building to ward off any pesky nocturnal Pokémon, so I know I’ll be safe as I wrap around to the side and sit down in the grass. I lean my back on the station, take a deep breath, and look out at the view I neglected earlier.

I’ve gotta try to clear my head before I go back in there. I can’t spend the night in constant contact with the person who’s currently the star of all my perverted desires. What happens if I have a wet dream? What happens if I verbalize any of this hypothetical dream in my sleep?

I’m so screwed.

My fingers fidget with the grass as a stupid thought crosses my mind.

What if I just…? Y’know…?

I stand up to peek around the corner at the front of the building, knowing nobody is around, but wanting to play it safe before I do something reeeally fucking stupid. Then I look side to side. I look up and around for cameras, making sure the Professor can’t see what I’m about to do.

Sitting back down where I was, I think I’m in the clear. If I concentrate really hard, I can get off, and then I’ll go to the bathroom to clean up a bit, and then I’ll probably be alright to get back in that tiny little sleeping bag with Arven without combusting.

Giving myself a curt nod of encouragement, I reach a nervous hand into my sleep shorts. I’m embarrassingly prepared already… all this just from being so pent up all day. I feel like a monster. A horny, insatiable monster.

Making quick use of my fingers, I’m forced to bite my lip to stop any sounds from escaping me. I’m never noisy while I masturbate, except maybe while I’m cumming sometimes. This is so embarrassing, even if there’s nobody around to see it.

I shake the guilty thoughts from my head, wanting to simply get the job done and return inside. I can be as distracted as I want when I’m back in my dorm in Arceus knows how long.

For now, I need to focus.

Eyes shut and knuckles against my mouth, my imagination runs wild with some of the dirty thoughts I had earlier as I lose myself in pleasure. It honestly helps so much to have had those ideas ready to use, rather than having to conjure up new ones… and it immerses me enough that I haven’t noticed the soft footsteps on the grass just a few meters away from me.

The only reason I stop what I’m doing is because I hear my name being spoken cautiously, as if approaching a feral Pokémon, by none other than the man I was just fantasizing about.

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 8 months

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Hello, Mr. Monster 7 teaser

I live! Still having a rough time, but still writing. Here's a snippet for you lovelies.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the dress, feeling phantom spider silk clinging to her skin, watching the threads stretch and tear with so little effort. Of all the things to focus on, maybe it was easiest. The only change she could easily escape. But also a reminder of the monster the fae believed her soulmate to be. Someone who would callously, willingly…

Her stomach rolled, and she lurched onto her knees. A little stomach bile came on the second, wrenching heave, but nothing followed. Not even water.

Fuck.

How long had it been since she ate? Time was so slippery in the fae realms, and gods knew how long she slept in the Dreaming. Her head pulsed as her stomach finally agreed it was overreacting, and she fell back to sit against the wall of the bridge, panting with her eyes closed against every little pain and discomfort knocking on her thoughts. They each wanted to let her know her body had been abused, and all their good intentions just made the message play on repeat, forcing her to not only face but feel everything that happened.

Sorely used.

An archaic turn of phrase, for sure, but fuck if it didn’t fit.

Her ears rang. A sure sign there was just too much happening inside. Even if she didn’t die at the hands of the fae, a rogue nightmare, or some demon Constantine hooked her into finding, her blood pressure would send her to an early grave. For sure.

Her head hurt. Her belly hurt. Now that she wasn’t walking, her feet ached, too.

It seemed like a good time to cry, but she hurt too much to do that, either.

So she sat with the pain instead.

Crossing her arms over her knees, she buried her face and tried to block out this world, her monster’s world, and create her own. Simple and dark and safe. The borders only extended to her fingers and toes. It ended where the air touched her skin. Her goal was to drown out the ringing in her ears with the cycle of her breath, and if she forgot anything else existed, maybe that would be possible.

She buried herself so well in her arms and the chorus of her panic that she didn’t notice the little creature approach until it touched her. Tiny claws pricked her ankle. It felt like a cat, a determined kitten scaling her leg to perch on her knee, and she opened her eyes sluggishly, pulling out of the sticky morass of her own head to find a ruby-eyed gargoyle peering into her face. It chirred, potato-shaped head tilting in wordless question.

Golden with little wings that looked entirely insufficient to keep its pudgy baby body airborne, it lurked happily in the grey area where things so ugly they could only be cute flourished.

“I should probably warn you,” she murmured, “that I’m really shit company right now.”

#fic: hello mr. monster #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x oc

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awesome-casuallyfamouscollector · 2 months

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Russians Lose Second A-50 Airborne Early Warning and Control Aircraft shot down by Ukrainians: A large piece (upper tail elevator assembly) of the downed Russian A-50 rests in a field, Krasnodar Krai, Russia, February 23, 2024. Source: OSINTtechnical

P.S. The achievement of Ukrainian air defense is quite impressive! Very impressive, indeed, and spectacular result with far reaching consequences! This airborne early warning and control aircraft was used by the Russian war criminals for long-range radar detection, control and targeting for attacks on Ukrainian civilians with missiles launched from strategic bombers.

#Ukraine #russian invasion #russian defeat #Krasnodar #aviation history #A-50 #early warning and control aircraft #military aircraft

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nocternalrandomness · 1 year

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VAW 117 E-2C Hawkeyes off the Channel Islands coast

#US Navy #Aviation #Aircraft #Northrop #Grumman #E-2 #Hakeye #AEW Aircraft #VAW-117 #Airborne early warning #Channel Islands

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classyclips · 1 year

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There are only 9 such aircraft in the aerospace forces of the Russian Federation, and only 6 with improved digital avionics. One such aircraft is operated by 19 people (5 flights, 11 radio and 3 engineering and technical personnel). The cost of such an aircraft is USD 330 million.

#belarus #minsk #machulishchi military air base #beriev a-50 airborne early warning and control aircraft #russian awacs exploded #bypol

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usaac-official · 11 months

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An F2H-3 and three F2H-4s of Airborne Early Warning Squadron 11 off USS Hornet (CVS-12) in flight, 1959

#us navy #usn #F2H #Banshee #warbirds #formation #aviation history #VAW 11

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dameronology · 1 year

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timing's a bitch [s.h] - 4/5

s u m m e r '8 6

"you can call me if there's anything you need, anything but me" - anything but me, huna (x)

“if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing…timing. but timing is a bitch” - how i met your mother

a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

warnings: mentions of weed, language

Waiting for Eddie Munson in the rain at 7AM on a Tuesday morning was your own idea of hell. Stood under the bus stop with your arms folded across your chest and a face like thunder, you couldn’t help but wish he would be on time for once in his godforsaken life. And it was ironic, because Eddie’s driving was anything but slow and safe. You’d seen him launch his van around corners. Hell, if it had wings he could have picked up enough speed to go airborne and fly you to the otherside of Hawkins. Would you have trusted him? Fuck no. But had Steve been away the entire weekend with his girlfriend even though he’d promised to give you a lift that morning? Fuck yes.

Transferring to Hawkins Community College hadn’t been all that bad. You could still carry on with your degree, but you were closer to home and New York was no longer bleeding your bank dry. It had been six months since you’d moved back - and six months since that day at the lake - and Steve’s presence in your life was…erratic. When you were together, it was just like old times. His new girlfriend was a blessing in disguise because that pressure that had put you both to breaking point ever since his confession back in the fall had gone. Then you could go days, even weeks, without seeing him.

Was that normal in a relationship? Maybe. Did you like it? No.

Of course, you would never say anything to him. For fear of being unreasonable or worse, of being jealous, you bit your tongue. Even though every missed call and sorry I’m running late, I was with her was pushing you closer to snapping bit by fucking bit. All you could do was take a deep breath, smile and hope that Steve would soon see some sense and dump her. He had no logical reason to; she was lovely and sweet and hell even you couldn’t deny the ass on that but…she wasn’t you. And really, that was quite annoying.

Eddie finally screeched around the corner just after 7:15. With Metallica blaring from his speakers, you dove across the road and into the passengers seat. The entire van smelt like week; not recent weed, but old weed. Probably the residue from last night, when you’d again been in the van. Smoking with him had become your favourite past time in Steve’s absence; obviously no-one could ever replace him but Eddie’s company was always fun. He was bright and funny, like a breath of Class B fresh air.

It was also just a stroke of luck that you guys had the same class this morning.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted you. “Sorry I’m late. I don’t have an excuse, I just slept through my alarm.”

You gave him a smile, though it was paired with an eye roll. “I appreciate your blunt honesty, as always.”

“Haha, blunt honesty,” Eddie winked at you. “Get it…blunt. C’mon, that’s funny! Why aren’t you laughing? Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad!” you shot back. “It’s 7am and it’s raining, that’s all-”

“- you’re a bad liar,” he cut you off. “I know that Steve normally picks you up on Tuesdays because he does the early shift at the store. What did he ditch you for? Or should I say who?”

“Eds, if you already know when why are you making me go through the pain of explaining it?”

“Sorry,” Eddie grimaced. “Also sorry that he ditched you. That really does suck.”

“I don’t need sympathy,” you shrugged. “We’re still best friends, okay? He just has less room in his life now that he’s got a girlfriend and it’s fine.”

“Your tone says otherwise.”

“OF COURSE IT’S NOT FUCKING FINE!” you bellowed. Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, though he did also offer a look of sympathy.

“THAT’S RIGHT!” he joined in on the yelling. “LET IT OUT! YELL!”

“FUCK YEAH!” you shouted. “FUCK STEVE HARRINGTON!”

“FUCK STEVE HARRINGTON!”

The van screeched to a halt outside the front of the college. Eddie killed off the engine and looked back over at you, giving you a smile. He really had been your saving grace the last few months. Plus, it was nice to see him back on his feet and taking a proper crack at education. None of you had left Hawkins High unscathed but hell, he certainly bore the scares.

Jogging round the other side of the van to join Eddie, you began to make your way inside. He flung an arm over your shoulders and gave your your forearm a little rub, as if to say smile.

“Hey, cheer up,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Moping,” you muttered.

“Me and Robin were gonna go to the arcade. Want to come there and mope?”

You gave him a smile. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“She said she might bring some of her friends too.”

“Right, Eds - you know Robin only has one friend, right?”

“Me?”

“No, you fool. Steve!”

“Oh, okay. So you wanna come to the arcade with me, Robin, Steve and…probably his girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course.”

—

By the time you got to the arcade that evening, the rain had stopped.

Steve’s car was already parked outside and to your surprise, he was leant against the wall outside by himself. Where was his girlfriend? And more to the point, why hadn’t he called you if he was free? You took a deep breath, shoving down the thousands of questions that were beginning to rot your brain. All this had made you miss the days when you had no questions or queries or fucking anything about your friendship. Steve was just there and you knew. Through thick and thin, you knew. And now things were so thin that they were practically transparent and he was barely showing up.

Robin, who was sat between you and Eddie in the van, was the first to pipe up on his presence.

“Well, it’s strange to see Han without Leia, right?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “Wouldn’t I be Leia?”

“Actually, based on the equation of him being Han Solo and you being his best friend, you would be…”

“Please don’t say it,” you murmured.

“I’m not gonna say it,” she chimed in.

“Chewbacca!”

You glanced over at Eddie. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime, Chewie.”

You were half away across the road before the other two were even out the van. In all honesty, you hadn’t given much thought as to how you were going to greet Steve. Hell, you never imagined a scenario where you thought you would have to. Overthinking interactions with your dearest friend was awful.

Steve had forced you into a hug before you had the chance to say anything. He clung on a little too tight for your liking; probably a sign that he missed you but hadn’t the ball been in his court the entire time? It felt in recent weeks like he’d deflated said ball but…here he was. On a Tuesday, on his own and taking you in his arms. Just how it should have been.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted him. “How are you?”

“Yeah, not bad,” he gave you a smile. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me neither, til Eddie invited me,” you replied. “I didn’t know you were free tonight.”

“I wasn’t. I had plans but my girl got that bug that’s going round and I didn’t want to drag her out.”

My girl. Hah. Fuck. Honestly, you would have been grateful for Steve to point out the nearest bridge because you were ready to jump now.

“Oh, yeah,” your face faltered a little. “My mum had that last week.”

Eddie and Robin had reached you by that point, so your conversation was disrupted. You felt for Robin, because she saw even less of Steve than you did now. Maybe that’s why she, you and Hawkin’s geekiest metalhead had morphed into some kind of weird trio.

There was small talk amongst the four of you as you headed inside. Everyone went in their natural order; Eddie to the Pac-Man table, Robin to the Donkey Kong machine and Steve wrestling you to the Dance Dance Revolution section on the other side. Was he seriously going to pretend like everything was okay? How he could -

Ah, right. He couldn’t have known things weren’t okay because you hadn’t fucking told him. In Steve’s mind, he hadn’t done a single thing wrong and god, it was a mind you envied. He probably didn’t spend hours overthinking or pondering events that hadn’t even happened. He’d probably be interested to know that your stupid brain had spent thousands of hours basically writing a screenplay that detailed the end of your friendship. And the screenplay that saw you fall in love, and the one where you got married and…okay. Enough. You had to talk to him.

“Steve!” you wrenched your arm away from his grip. “Steve. We need to talk.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“In private,” you glanced around, eyes landing on the janitor’s closet across the arcade. “In there?”

“You want to talk…in the janitor’s closet?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Please?”

He sighed. “Fine.”

It was weird. You knew it was weird but there was no way in hell you were about to have this conversation in earshot of every person in the arcade. It was hard enough to have it with just you and Steve.

You opened the door, almost tripping over a mop as you went in. Steve quickly reached out to grab you; he steadied you, holding you in front of him with that stupid, stupid concerned look of his. The one that he’d always had whenever you tripped over in elementary school or forgot your lunch in junior year. It was his you look and you fucking loved it.

“What did you want to say?”

“Right, here goes,” you murmured. “I’m gonna try not to get angry but…I am angry, Steve. I’m angry and I’m hurt and I need you to just listen for a minute, okay?”

He looked concerned, but nodded all the same. “Yeah, okay.”

“I get you’re in a relationship now,” you began. “I’m happy for you and everything I’m about to say has not come from a place of jealousy or wishing that I were her. I missed my chance with you and I understand but Jesus fucking Christ, I feel like you’ve forgotten about me.”

“I haven’t forgotten about you-”

“- let me finish,” you cut him off. “You have, Steve. This isn’t a matter of opinion or me asking for your input. It’s me telling you, okay? And like I said, I get you’re with someone now and naturally, I’ll see you less but it feels like you’ve gone one step further and iced me out completely.”

“I-”

“- not yet!” you snapped. “I was your best friend for fourteen years, remember? I was your Chewie-”

“- my what?”

“Nevermind,” you quickly murmured. “What I’m saying is…ice me out if you want. Cut me out and pretend like I don’t exist but hell, Steve. At least have the decency to tell me.”

Steve opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, when the pager on his trousers started beeping.

“Shit, it’s my mum,” he said. “She never beeps. I have to call her-”

“- yeah, go,” you pointed at the door. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Just…” Steve paused for a moment and took your hand. “I’m not icing you out, okay? I want you in my life. I promise we’ll talk more when I’ve dealt with this.”

Opening the door, he lead you out the closet.

Now, you didn’t believe in divine intervention. You did, however, believe in bad timing. How couldn’t you after the last year? Irrelevancy aside, timing hadn’t done you any favours and now wasn’t any different. You weren’t sure what the chances of Steve’s girlfriend deciding to turn up at the last minute were, and you were even less sure of what the chances of her seeing you and her boyfriend leaving a janitor’s closet hand-in-hand were. Either way, the stars had aligned.

You caught her eye first, and then Steve. She was stood between Robin and Eddie, mouth forming an O shape.

Now, this really wasn’t a moment you had ever prepared for. It wasn’t a topic that was covered much in cheesy ten shows and even less in magazines. Still, it felt right for Steve to talk first, so you let go of his hand and shoved him forward a little bit.

“Talk, idiot.”

“Hey, hi!” Steve suddenly jumped to life. “This…this is not what it looks like. We were not fucking in the closet.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, Harrington!”

“No, I mean…shit,” he continued. He took a step towards his girlfriend, and she replied in turn by taking one back. “We were just talking, okay? We had some stuff to discuss and…my god, why am I even explaining this?”

“Because you just stepped out of a janitors closet with your best friend!” she snapped. “Who I know you’ve fucked!”

“Y’know, that I can understand,” he said. “I will absolutely give you that. But I swear you don’t need to worry. Everyone knows that I love (name) - no, shit, wait-”

“- what?!”

You, Eddie, Robin and the dearly beloved girl all managed to chime in time with one another.

“You!” Steve continued. Oh dear god. You could have chimed in but nothing anyone could say would have helped. “I love you.”

“You being me…” his girlfriend began, then her eyes landed on you. “Or them?”

He glanced between the two of you. “I really need to call my mum.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x you #stranger things reader insert #stranger things

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