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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Normalcy & Domesticity | Rodolfo Parra x m!reader

@guardkeywolf asked: You wanted some Rudy and I'm here for it!

"Fuck, I've missed waking up with you"

Rudy X Male Reader where SAS!Male Reader comes back to Rudy after being away on a super long mission and just enjoys being with his boyfriend again

summary: men like you are never given normalcy and domesticity, so when you do finally get a taste of it, you want to make every second count:

tws: swearing, smoking

Normalcy and domesticity was not often afforded and awarded to men like you and Rodolfo, it was not often that you could so much as smell it, let alone have it, and you were both well aware of that; between him being part of the Los Vaqueros and you being part of the SAS, being together was rare, and being home together was even rarer. Actually being home with one another was often a short period of time as well, and thanks to your job especially, the phone could ring and you would be out of the door within minutes, only to disappear for days, weeks, months. It hurt, you couldn’t lie about that, it hurt to be away from him and to be apart for so long, but at the same time, you had a job to do, and so did he, and you both knew what you were signing up for when you started dating; besides, when you walked through the door, and saw him half-asleep on the sofa after trying to wait up for you, it made it all worth it. The fact that he would have something by Sabaton playing quietly on the speaker, a rolled cigarette and a cold can of Red Bull waiting on the coffee table, and your favourite film ready to go on the television, it always more than made up for the time that you had lost. If he was deployed at the same time you were, and he was anywhere near you, he would always visit, too.

Rodolfo was good to you like that, as even though he knew he shouldn’t have wasted the time to go and see you at whatever base it was at the time, he still came to see you, and he always managed to find a cold can of Red Bull for you, too; if you had the chance and the time to visit him at whatever base he was at, though, you would always make sure that your phone was charged, and you would make him a little playlist of all the heavy metal songs that you liked that had been released recently, and you would sit with him and let him borrow one of your earbuds so that he could listen with you - more often than not, it was something by Sabaton. But normalcy and domesticity was not often given to you and Rodolfo, no matter how hard you tried for it to be and no matter how hard you fought for it; your jobs could drag you away from one another at any given moment, so the second that you were home together, you always made it a point to make as much of the time as you possibly could. You never took the time for granted, and you never wasted it as much as you would have liked to; you tried to commit the times that you danced in the kitchen together at stupid o’clock in the morning to memory, you tried to keep the way he held you when you slept as fresh in your mind as you possibly could.

You had been away for months, though, tired and groggy and a little achy from sleeping on the plane, but as you walked through the front door, you paused; the last minute or so of ‘Camouflage’ by Sabaton was playing quietly on the speakers, Rodolfo was half-asleep on the sofa with his arms folded across his chest and his head tilted slightly to the side, Cannibal Holocaust was paused on the television, a rolled cigarette and a can of Red Bull sat on the coffee table in front of him, and although you wanted to disturb his peace, you couldn’t bring yourself to. So you grabbed the cigarette and the can, escaped to the kitchen as you waited for him to wake up; you used the clipper lighter he had bought you ages ago - the one with the fox in the suit - to light your cigarette, and cracked open the can as quickly and as quietly as you could before you took a few swigs. You slowly moved from side to side as ‘Dreadnought’ played, banging your head to the music and mouthing the lyrics as you smoked your cigarette and drank your drink, thankful to be home, knowing that your beloved boyfriend was just in the other room and that he had failed to stay up to wait for you. You smiled, making a note to take a picture so that you could send it to Alejandro, knowing that he would have some sort of smart comment about it that would make you laugh. You flicked your cigarette end into the ashtray, downed the rest of your drink, and returned to your boyfriend; he was sound asleep by now, and you were far too tired to think about taking a picture as you cuddled into his side and grabbed the blanket, pulling it over your body as you closed your eyes, your head spinning slightly as you allowed sleep to wash over you as quickly as it could. You missed cuddling into him, you couldn’t lie about that.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for, but when you woke up, Rodolfo was beneath you, gently running his hand up and down your back as he smiled at you tiredly, sleep in his deep brown eyes as he dared to whisper ever so quietly, “fuck, I’ve missed waking up with you.”

You smiled back, sleep haunting your features as you wriggled around to steal a kiss, grumbling softly before lying back down, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I missed it, too… what time is it?”

He looked up at the clock, and shook his head. “Three hundred hours.”

“That late?” You grumbled, shaking your head as you closed your eyes. “Fuckin’ Hell…”

Rodolfo chuckled softly, shifting his hips so that he could hold onto you a little tighter. “You can go back to sleep, mi corazón, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you admitted quietly. “I just don’t wanna waste what time we have together.”

“You won’t,” he reassured gently as he swallowed thickly, knowing that you were right but somehow wanting to convince you that it would be okay to sleep, that you wouldn’t waste any time or miss out on anything with him if you did rest a little bit. “Promesa. You can sleep, it’s okay.”

The music was still playing, this time it was ‘Screaming Eagles’, and you couldn’t help but to laugh softly as you snuggled into him a little more, daring to relax slightly. “D’you remember when Alejandro had a right go at us for blasting this on base?”

Laughing quietly, Rodolfo nodded as he grinned. “He was so enojado - I had to beg him not to tell your superior officer to court martial you for it.”

A bark of laughter left you as you started to draw little patterns into his chest with your finger, humming softly. “Y’know, Rudy, I don’t say it as often as I should, but… I love you, and I’m sorry I keep getting pulled away from you - but I’ll take some time off of work soon, and we can be together properly.”

He shook his head, daring to gently push your hand down so that it rested flat against his chest, he didn’t move his hand from it as he sighed. “Don’t worry about it, corazón - just enjoy the time we have now.”

“Tell you what,” you murmured. “I really, really, fucking fancy a cheese toastie right now… or beans on toast.”

“I can make it for you,” he shrugged. “Blue cheese?”

You nodded, licking your lips. “You know me so well.”

“Por supuesto I do,” he grinned. “You’re mi corazón.”

When he got up and headed towards the kitchen, you couldn’t help but to follow, creeping up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist as you pressed your chest to his back, holding on tightly as he rested his hand on yours for a moment. “I love you.”

“I know,” he replied gently, “I love you, too… we can watch that película while you eat, if you want?”

You nodded, gently kissing the back of his neck as you smiled against him. “I’d adore that, so fucking much.”

“Maybe, now you’re home,” he started, “we could see about you officially becoming my husband.”

“I would,” you hummed. “On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“You roll me a quick cigarette,” you grinned when you heard and felt him laugh softly. “You roll me one, and I’ll be your husband by tomorrow if you want me to.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

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simpingforthemm · 28 days

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the garcia brothers

words: like 1.7k

summary: basically a similar scenario to the whole "Cole x Jackie x Alex" thingy but with u and the Garcia brothers

a/n: sorry for not posting on here in a while. I wrote this little thing to get into fanfic writing again and will get to the other requests soon <3 probably will make this a series if I feel inspired enough

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Lee, your best friend, poking at your food, absolutely not hungry after having seen that revolting documentary on the holocaust in history lesson.

“God, I wish I could erase the last 90 minutes out of my memory so I could at least keep some of this food down and not starve for the rest of the day”, you groaned, shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Same”, Lee sighed. “That Nazi shit is seriously messed up. Honestly, I think I heard Olivia sobbing in the back row or something when the teacher named the number of the children murdered in the second world war.”

You raised your eyebrows. "Damn. Understandable though. It's so inhumane.”

Lee nodded. You noticed someone sitting down next to you and putting their arm around your shoulder. “What are we talking about guys?”, an all too familiar voice asked. Isaac Garcia, the brother of your best friend, who you shared a lot of your classes with, including history. “Just the pleasantries of that history lesson”, you said as he snatched some of your fries.

“I’m amazed at your ability to still eat after that horrifying documentary.”, you admitted, watching as he stuffed his mouth with the fried potato sticks, visibly hungry, his arm still securely around you. You didn't mind sharing your food and you often did so with Isaac. He would offer you gum when he had a pack, you would bring a second fork for him when you got lunch and you almost always shared your energy drinks and snacks. You didn't know the particular reason for why you both did this except for that the two of you loved food and that you liked eating in class / eating snacks so you could focus better.

“That's only one of my many talents, dear miss Y/L/N”, he said, smirking at you and giving you a little wink. “Besides, I love fries.”

You just rolled your eyes a little, knowing that Isaac basically had every girl that crossed his path swooning over him and he even flirted with you, his brother's girl best friend. Yeah, you shared your food and were pretty friendly with each other but you still were kind of annoyed about how he was such a ladies' man.

“Sure”, you just said, freeing yourself from his arm, catching Isaac frowning in the corner of your eye.

“Okay Isaac, how ‘bout you leave me and my best friend alone and go mind your business with all of those cheerleaders waiting on you.”, Lee said, pointing over to a table overcrowded with a bunch of girls from the cheerleading squad, some of them looking over to your table, probably wondering what was keeping Isaac there.

Lee seemed overly annoyed with his brother. Chill Lee, you thought to yourself. You actually kinda liked Isaac (not that you’d ever tell Lee that) and you didn't get why your best friend was acting all hostile. Sure, Isaac was annoying at times but he didn't exaggerate it. But of course, you were on your best friend’s side. “No need to get possessive, I’m already going”, he said, getting up from his chair.

He frowned as he noticed your sort of tense expression.“You seem tense, everything all right?”, he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. He was right, you had been tense. Exam stress, pressure to succeed, getting good grades and then your parents fighting. You were struggling. But Isaac didn't have to know that. “Okay Isaac, just go”, Lee groaned before you could answer the other Garcia's question.

“Already going, jeez bro. See you later, Y/N.”, he smirked, ruffling your hair. Ugh.

Relieved about him going back to his own table and Lee being able to go back to his normal self, you leaned back into your chair. “I’m so sorry about my brother Y/N”, Lee apologized, rolling his eyes. “I know he can be a lot sometimes.”

“It's fine”, you assured him, not knowing why he was always so cold and hostile whenever the three of you were together. When you watched Lee and Isaac hanging out together, without you, everything seemed just fine and they were laughing and having fun together, like normal brothers. This was the same for when you and Lee hung out just the two of you, everything seemed completely normal and fine. But when it was you, Lee and Isaac, he acted so strange. He was bitchy and rude to his brother, usually without reason. He always acted like Isaac was this horrible person that you couldn't be associated with. You thought that maybe he couldn't stand the thought of you and Isaac being friends? Maybe he hated how physical Isaac could be? You didn't know, but you were determined to find out.

After school, you and Lee decided to hang out and get ice cream. A lot of people thought that you and Lee might be a couple since the two of you were so close. It was true, you liked Lee a lot. Maybe you had had a crush on him for a little while when the two of you first met. But that was a long time ago and the two of you were now simply best friends. You thought so at least. Still, you couldn't help thinking he was cute when he attempted to speak French in class (which he surprisingly was horrible at) or when he geeked out about some new skateboarding equipment or tricks he wanted to try. Of course, you would never tell him that.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”, Lee suddenly blurted out. The two of you were standing in line at the ice cream shop, waiting for your turn. You were slightly standing on your tip-toes, trying to get a look on all the flavors available so you could already decide on what you wanted beforehand.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?”, you said casually, standing normally again and turning to look at him.

Lee looked down at his shoes, seemingly embarrassed. You frowned, didn't he know he could ask you anything? You were now getting impatient and nervous. Why was he stalling?

“Oh, come on, Lee. You're driving me crazy. Spit it out!”

“Do you like Isaac?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. So much for obvious. But you didn't like him. At least not like Lee probably meant in this moment. Okay, maybe you thought he was hot and funny, but he was obnoxious. He was always bothering you, in class, outside of class, at the Walters’ House. Just last week, he threw you in the pool, then at a party he randomly asked you if you wanted to play beer pong with him. With you, out of all people? You, the unpopular nerd. Then there were other incidents like when your grade was called to the assembly hall for some informative presentation on future college opportunities and Isaac just randomly sat down next to you. And besides all that weirdness from his side, he made your best friend in the whole world angry and tense. You didn't like that.

You decided to go for the shocked and surprised answer. “What! Lee! Why would you think that??”

“I don't know”, he shrugged, his expression blank. “You just always seem to laugh more when he's around and you don't really seem to mind whenever he flirts with you.”

“Flirts with me? Lee, I don't know what you're talking abou-”

“Oh please Y/N”, Lee scoffed. “Don't act like you're blind. He always flirts with you. Just today in the cafeteria, he put his arm around you. Do you know how weird that is for me? Jesus, he's my brother, Y/N.” Lee looked disgusted as he turned away from you. You didn't know his feelings were this intense.

“Lee, of course I don't like him. But you know how Isaac is, he’s always flirting with every girl that's in his eyesight. I don't think he's taken special interest in me. And besides, we wouldn't even fit together, you know how different we are.”

That seemed to calm Lee down as his expression softened and he sighed, nodding.

"Sorry for overreacting. You're right."

You didn't know why he was so against you even slightly taking an interest in his brother and why he was so disgusted at even the idea of you getting closer to him. But you figured the two of you weren't really in a position to talk about that.

Later that day, you were sitting on your bed, listening to music and doing homework when your phone made that vibrating sound to tell you you had a new message. You frowned slightly, checking who would text you at this time. It certainly wouldn't be Lee, as right now he’d probably be outside with his cousins, teaching Parker how to skateboard or something. Instead it was an unknown number.

The message just said: “hi y/n”.

You texted back pretty quickly out of curiosity. "Who's this?”

Another message appeared within seconds, making your heart drop. “Isaac. I got your number from Jackie, hope that's ok”

Jesus, why would he be texting you? This was the last thing you needed rn. And now you seriously didn't know what to text back.

“Okaay, why did you ask for my number tho”, you typed.

“idk cuz I think ur cool”

Fuck. Why’d he say something like that?

“okay.. I don't think lee doesn't like us talking tho"

You were panicky now. Lee definitely couldn't find out about this. He'd be so mad.

“he needs to chill out”

Was he seriously saying this rn? Didn't he know Lee had no chill whenever it came to you?

You were staring at your phone for a while, waiting for him to say something else, but when he didn't, you just typed back:

“srry but did you want anything else? I got homework to do”

“we should hang out outside of class sometime”

“we really shouldn't”, you texted back, even though you did kind of want to. But you couldn't. Not when Lee was so against the idea of you being closer to his brother. You couldn't do that to your best friend.

“Come onn y/n just for like an hour or so. pretty plsss”

He kept spamming you with messages the next minutes which really annoyed you so just to shut him up you replied: “fine but istg if lee finds out you’re done for”

“yes ma’am 🧎‍♂️”

God. What had you gotten yourself into??

#lee garcia x reader #my life with the walter boys x reader #isaac garcia x reader #netflix my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb x reader #mlwtwb isaac x reader #mlwtwb lee x reader #my life with the walter boys #hi i'm alive #hi i'm back #the Garcia brothers

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gospocki · 2 months

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It wasn't cold, but I still shivered at the thought of how cold a world we live in. That someone is bombing unarmed people, civilians, children, babies, women, old people non-stop for 4 months. That leaders are afraid to stand up to evildoers! What kind of leaders are you?! What is someone fighting for? Why do they all have to die?!? For a liter of oil, gas...

Steal other people's land, kill innocent people and children, newborns, kill the fetus in the womb of a mother, shoot weak old people, torture, rape, release dogs on these innocent people, carry out the Holocaust of the modern era in full view of the whole world, shown on all screens around the world ...

And life goes on, right? Hand to mouth, hand to eyes, hand to ears. It will pass? You don't raise your voice for weak people, you hesitate because someone can condemn you? I don't care what ethnicity you are, what failed nationality you are, what religion you are. I will tell you that the first thing you need to be is a "human being" and then everything else. And you are not a human being.

Remember, everything starts from Palestine. There will be a lot of pain and no humanity. This applies to all. Get ready, because the Earth has suffered. We allowed genocide and we continue to allow it.

Keep worrying about small and unimportant things. Take care of your appearance, fix your hair. Drink coffee and complain about something. Ordinary mortals.

P A L E S T I N E 🇵🇸

#gospodinmangup1001 #palestine #genocide #free palestine #israel #muslims #muslim #islam #catholic #ortodox #jewish #pagans #judge #God #Allah

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im-not-your-nice-jewish-boy · 3 months

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look in a mirror

I've taken some time to think about this, and I've decided that I'm done with giving the benefit of the doubt here.

I remember listening to another Jewish person talk about why she doesn't write about the Shoah, specifically her saying "I can feel the weight of my ancestors" near the end. And you know what? She's right. Every time I think about the Holocaust, about how the entire world turned their backs on us Jews and the Romani beside us, I feel that loss to my core. You can't escape the scars of that time as a Jew. It becomes part of the double helix of your genes like the will to survive that keeps us here despite everyone wishing we weren't whether they say it out loud or not.

With that in mind: fuck Caelan Conrad and all their ilk

A hearty shut your mouth and consider your life to everyone who tries to appropriate the Holocaust like it's some kind of badge of honor or a fucking game.

For people who spend so much time laughing at the people who you say want to be oppressed so badly, you're doing something that's exactly the same. Is it not enough for you, the state of the world when it comes to the threat to the lgbtqia+ community? Only I'm painfully aware that it's not that. It's the fact that you, yes you oh passionate defender of human rights, want so very badly to not have to think about how much you hate Jews. You want so very badly to erase that the Holocaust was about the Jews and the Romani far more than it was about queer people.

And before you get started with that: I am queer

I am trans

I am gay

I am on the asexual spectrum

Those are all important things about me, yes, but when I think about the Shoah, I don't think about my status as a queer person. You know what I think of? The fact that people in my family died. The fact that if that hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't be in the American part of the diaspora. The fact that there are still fewer Jewish people in the world now and somehow people still act like "oh, it was forever ago" and "it wasn't really that bad".

Fuck you

Like I've said before: you've stolen enough from us

You don't get to steal our trauma, our murders, our ghosts, our bones

You don't get to act like that was about you

The Holocaust isn't a fucking statement; it was a tragedy played across the entire world focused primarily on the wholesale slaughter of the Jewish people and the Romani people

It is something we still feel to this day

Take your thieving, sticky fucking fingers far away and keep them to yourself until you learn to stop taking shit that isn't yours

You claim to be so much better than organizations like the catholic church?

How about you act like it then and stop pulling the same moves they did when it comes to your antisemitism; this is one of the oldest dirty moves in the book and it doesn't look any better on you than it did on them

#antisemitism #cultural appropriation #tw shoah #historical revisionism #jewish history #the holocaust isn't about you #never forget #never again #am yisrael chai #whether you like it or not #leftist antisemitism #leftist hypocrisy #this is spicier than is probably wise #i don't really care #fuck you people

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theiyah · 6 months

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A part of Germany (Sachsen-Anhalt) now requires you to vow that you agree that Israel has the right to be a state to be allowed neutralization.

The official argument for that is that they want to keep antisemitic people out of the country. An article (its only in german) describes that the naturalization is impossible if immigrants follow ideals that defy the basic democratic order. It states that such ideals include "antisemitic crimes and denying Israel's right to exist"

Denying the holocaust, a mass genocide, is considered an antisemitic crime and is strictly punished in Germany.

Yet in the same sentence they compare said crimes to denying Israel's statehood, a country which has been trying to ethnically cleanse Palestinians, thereby committing genocide.

Basically they are saying: you're excluded from naturalisation if you deny the genocide that happened in Germany, or point out that a state that is currently commiting genocide shouldn't exist.

The fucking audacity to protect Israel because you feel bad when you think about criticising people who your ancestors ethically cleansed...I cannot believe this. Germany is assisting, promoting and encouraging Israel in commiting genocide. This isn't exclusively because of guilt or fear of being on the wrong side of history. Its the result of the rising arabphobia in this shitstain of a country that has been happening for YEARS.

Germany is incredibly racist and the german government is abusing the pain Israel has caused Palestinians and arabs in general to justify denying arabs, who fled to europe, shelter and safety in a country that is already incredibly hostile towards them.

I am ashamed to be born in this fucking country. My grandparents didn't come to this country to work their fucking asses off just so I could be threatened by the state to shut my mouth on this topic. I'm not allowed to protest a GENOCIDE. The german government is breaking their own constitution to deny other people basic human rights, to deny protection to those who need it most and to further the racist political ideologies in Germany even further.

Here is an article in English by the Washington Post

#Germany #palestine #israel #free palestine #arabphobia #german #immigration #immigrants #genocide #let this shit radicalise you #if nothing has radicalised you yet #this fucking should #dont look away

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evita-shelby · 8 months

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Tie Your Heart to Mine

Chapter 16

Cw: mentions of the holocaust occuring, some minor slut shaming and use of an ethnic slur towards the end and mentions of sex

Gif by @sibirr

The war doesn’t catch them off guard.

Everything had been prepared and now they’d see how far this head start gets them. The two months they got have the factories performing better than the rest who’ve only just switched gears.

Their warehouses were filled to the brim, the wages and hours allowed the staff to live comfortably and save some for the next five years.

1945, a year longer than the Great War and yet the casualties and damage of it will be a drop in a bucket compared to this Second World War.

12 million dead, none of them soldiers.

It filled her with dread to know they couldn’t’ stop it. While they know what happens, fate decides what you can and can not change. All they can do is use their foresight to change what little they can and hope it makes a difference.

Tom had been arrested two weeks ago and put in remand at Strangeways as a category B criminal. He’d gone to have breakfast at home and the police had come to charge him for illegal gambling, and because he is as slippery as an eel, he was put in a prison cell until his trial.

Dia had tried to get him out, but the Sergeant was not feeling like accepting her bail money even after she conjured a real betting license to prove he had done no crimes.

They knew what they wanted him to do, they needed young men who cannot say no to enlisting because the army has no chance in hell of gaining those numbers overnight.

“He left his coat at my place, bought him a fresh pack of cigarettes because I know that’s the first thing he’ll ask for.” Diane said when she showed up at the Bennett’s doorstep with Tom’s overcoat.

“Tom’s lucky to have you looking after him, Diane.” Douglas speaks with approval in his voice and Diane wonders if the wariness he initially had has finally left.

Oh he’s going to hate her when Tom joins the navy, the witch thinks as she muttered thanks and offered to drive them to the prison.

“How did your audition go, I tried to ask Connie, but she was busy with Eddie and I didn’t want to interrupt.” Diane asked wisely leaving the word ENSA out of her mouth as they wait for Tom outside the prison.

“Good, the people said we were great and they’d be in touch.” Lois said knowing her dad won’t try and say anything since they’re in public and in company.

“If you don’t get in, my mom still needs a singer for her charity dinner next week. You’d be helping drive the donations for the refugees coming from Europe and all expenses would be paid for by the Shelby Foundation.” Diane suggested hoping she would mention ENSA on her own.

Douglas didn’t approve of it, but Lois would have to rip of the Band-Aid sooner or late. Diane had suggested they do it on the drive here, Douglas wouldn’t jump out of a moving car to avoid having that conversation with his daughter.

Like how Charlie did when he was approved for pilot training two weeks ago. Their parents had been terrified for him and yet no matter how much their mom claimed she’d kill herself; she never opened the car door.

“We auditioned for ENSA, dad. The recruiter said we were surely getting a call back.” Lois gets the memo and spills it.

Douglas keeps on walking and pretending he hasn’t heard her.

“They go away and entertain the troops.” The young singer adds as if her dad wouldn’t have known what it was.

“Yeah, I know what they do.” Her dad looked out ashen and clenched his jaw to hide his anger and fear and all that clinging to him like a coat. “I just wondered why Connie had you auditioning for them. Knowing that you can't do it, like.”

Douglas needed Lois home; he was not well enough to handle being on his own. Or so he thinks.

“Well, I was thinking about that and...” Lois paused and tried to gently remind him that she is twenty-one, “I was thinking, you know, why not?”

“Why not?” Douglas scoffed and lost most of his argument when they found Tom waiting for them with that carefree attitude of his. “Here’s one good reason why not, right here.”

“Either of you started to smoke? I'm dying for a fag.” Despite Tom smelling exactly like two weeks in a damp prison cell, Diane greets her boyfriend with a kiss at the edge of his mouth --- his dad and some prison guards were there--- only for him to pull her in a tight embrace and gave her what he called a real kiss.

“Coat pocket, got you a fresh pack after finishing yours last week at my parent’s house.” Diane answers as he takes off his dirty shirt and sweater and Lois hands him his clean shirt.

“See, she didn’t forget to bring my overcoat, Loo.” Tom says trying to lighten the mood only to get a glare from his sister. “I'm joking.”

He amends and then adds as he lights his first cigarette of the day. “I smell like a wet dog.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His sister chuckled knowing Tom’s news was going to make their dad forget Lois plans on accepting that offer by ENSA.

“When are you in court, then?” his dad asked bracing for the worst. Everyone was aware that most were given a choice, jail or army. Since they wish to make an example of Tom, who knows what they’ll do to make him enlist and have the Germans deal with those they viewed as a lost cause.

“I'm not.” Tom changed into his clean shirt and began to do up the buttons. He walks faster too, whatever he’s going to say next is enough to make him nervous.

“You've been on remand for two weeks. They must have charged you with something.” His dad notes his nerves with suspicion. Of course he would, he’s his father, he’d know the moment something wasn’t right with his son just as her dad does with her.

“They were going to. But then I said I'd join up.” Tom can’t even look at them because Diane and his sister know the next words that leave his mouth are gonna be lies.

“The Army?” Douglas tried to hide his fears letting his anger cover the words he said and his children pretend they couldn’t hear it. “No, you'd be better off in there.”

Because there you would be safe.

“I won't actually be joining up, Dad. I'm a conscientious objector.” Tom looked briefly over his shoulder with that mischievous look about him, selling his lie so well Douglas can’t help but buy it.

“Since when?” there is a look of pride in Douglas’ face as he asks his son, believing the lie because maybe this time it will be true. A heartbreaking thing, if you ask Diane.

“About half an hour ago?” Tom looked forward again, his smile dropping because it pains him to see that hopeful look in his dad’s eye.

“I'll get you some leaflets, then.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting my own place.” Diane said once they arrived at her lodgings. After this he’d go to the recruitment office and disappoint his old man even further. He only needed a quick bath, a good fuck and his clean sweater she’d stolen a night or two ago. His bird loved wearing his shirts and he liked the way she looked wearing only that in the mornings before he left out the door.

Then once he and his dad get into another argument at home, he’ll come back here through the window ---Mrs. Johnson still refuses to just let him in to save face--- and spend the handful of nights he has left with Diane.

“Mrs. Johnson giving you trouble?” he asked as she unlocked her door. Once inside the blond plans to make up for those fourteen fucking days without her.

“No, but I have a feeling its time.” She shook her head and Tom’s reminded of those visions she told him about.

Maybe he’ll leave her with a limp and something else to remember him by when they ship him out to die. He’s got enough for a ring, a simple one because he knows she doesn’t care about shit like money or luxury.

Diane Elizabeth Bennett sounds far better than Diane Shelby, if you ask him.

“What makes you think that, Lady Di?” he teased and slammed the door behind them a little too forcefully.

Two fucking weeks without a cigarette, good food and worst of all, no Diane to keep him company. She’d visited, but save for a quick kiss and some handholding, there hadn’t been any relief for him.

His witch will have to take the day off tomorrow too unless she wants him to ruin her schedule and show her exactly how much he missed her those fourteen lonely nights.

“Gotten tired of having to sneak you in after hours, has me fretting over whether or not you’ll fall and break that pretty face of yours.” Her mismatched eyes light up with lust and all the dirty ideas a good girl in this respectable boarding house isn’t supposed to have.

But she’s not acting on it, Diane wants to talk about this and he’s in no fucking mood for it.

“I’m a good climber, why else do you think they put me up at Strangeways with all the scum of Manchester?” he was not fighting her on the idea, god knows he’s tired of playing Romeo and fucking Juliet in a place where at least a third of the ladies know the rumors about him are all true.

“No fence could keep you from me, bet the sea won’t either.” Diane said with a giggle as they went to the nearest comfortable surface to make up for lost time. “But I need my own house, Tom, I’m tired of having to keep quiet when we fuck.”

Even more reason, gotten so many complaints by the uptight schoolteacher next door who hates him for all the shit he pulled when he was her student. His dad had heard her refer to Diane as the gypsy slut and warned him about her during his last visit. Diane should have a house in mind, she wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t.

“If it were up to me, I’d move you into my bed at home. It’s going to be empty anyways, and Lois will need the company. With two posh boys to worry about, she’ll need someone to talk sense into her for me.” He suggests as he took of his shirt and watched her undo the buttons on her blouse as slowly as could.

“My poor, poor brother. He’s coming to visit tonight, only problem Harry’s going to be there too. But enough about our siblings, Tom, fourteen days and nights without you were absolute hell.” His witch said reminding him they had better things to focus on than their siblings’ love lives.

#diane shelby #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett x diane shelby #tie your heart to mine #ewan mitchell #world on fire bbc #world on fire fic #world on fire meets peaky blinders

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albionscastle · 1 year

Text

We’ll Meet Again part 13

It’s been a long time coming this one. But it was time.

Collins becomes a father and a bombing mission goes awry with disastrous consequences.

Trigger Warning: battle, war, mentions of the Holocaust

This was always the plan.

Fic Masterlist all previous chapters are posted here.

We’ll Meet Again 13: The Way You Look Tonight/The White Cliffs of Dover

Jack was in the air when your daughter was born, but you weren't alone, you were surrounded by Violet, Della and Mary, though your heart still ached for him, even through the pain. One day you would tell her that she was born in an Underground shelter on the last day of the Blitz. You had hoped that meant it was the beginning of the end for the war, but how terribly wrong you all were on that count. A telegram was dispatched to inform Collins that he was now a father, the letter that followed told him she had his hair and eyes and a set of very healthy lungs. You had discussed names in your letters and decided to name her Carys for your mother, she would have loved that, and it wasn’t until you held your own child in your arms that you realized how much you still missed her. It was a month before Jack could get a day’s leave and he admitted that he now owed a lot of boys a great many favors in order to pull it off.

Standing at the door of the boarding house you cradled Carys in your arms as you waited for him. A proper party had been planned in the garden to celebrate your little family and you were anxious for Collins to arrive and just as anxious to hide the fact that you were already heartbroken at the thought of him having to leave again.

'Y/N!' you heard a shout and whipped your head around to see Jack trotting down the street, a small rucksack thrown to the ground as he opened his arms.

Tears were in your eyes as you flew down the steps, running to throw an arm arm around him as he spun you around, laughing. His arm wrapped around your waist, his mouth on yours before you could say a word. You kissed him back, not caring if your lips bruised, feeling like a thirsty man at a desert oasis. The whole world ceased to exist for a moment as six months of missing him came down to this one moment and you poured every ounce of love and longing you had into kissing him. It was Carys who eventually decided to bring you both back to reality, letting you know, loudly, that she did not appreciate being squished between her parents.

Jack pulled away, blue eyes shining brightly as he looked down to see his daughter for the first time.

'She's so tiny,' he whispered, his finger brushing her brow.

'Daddy, meet Carys Margot Alex Collins.'

"Alex?' He whispered.

"For Farrier.’

Collins nodded and you saw him choke down a lump in his throat. You hoped there would be news about his friend, good or bad, it had to be better than not knowing. Blinking away tears

he let you place her in his arms, holding her as though she was made of the most delicate glass.

"Hello there, darlin, I'm yer da.'

You watched, your heart swelling as he smiled down at her, rocking his arms with as much love in his eyes as you had ever seen. Looking back up at you he reached out a hand to cradle your cheek, his smile so blinding it made you sigh. He was so beautiful.

'I'm sorry I wasnae here, I wanted tae be so badly."

"It's not like you had much of a choice, Jack, you wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked back to the boarding house. Everyone was gathered in the garden, just as they had been the first day he came to visit. There were new faces now, as well as the ghosts of those who had gone. Jacob and Mary greeted Jack as though he was their own son, a deep sadness in Jacob's eyes. There was no chance any of his family in Poland were still alive and it tore at him more than if he had lost them in a battle. They had been murdered, along with who knew how many others. Still, on such a day he rallied and mingled, keeping everyone entertained with funny stories you all knew weren't true.

Collins was never without a well-wisher and for just a few hours it was as though the war hadn’t even happened. There was even cake for the brave new father. Margot's photographer friend was there too, having kept in touch even after her death, and he made sure to take as many photos as he could. When questioned about it he simply shrugged and said, 'We should have as many reminders of those we love as we can. For when they are gone, they should be remembered.’ His picture-taking was encouraged after that and even he seemed content for a time, his subjects all happy and alive, unlike the ones he took photos of on a daily basis.

For his part, Jack had fallen head over heels with his child, never more than a foot away from either of you at any time. He looked on with wide-eyed wonder when you nursed her, and when she was unbundled for a nappy change he couldn't keep his hands off her, counting every finger and toe. When her fingers grabbed onto his thumb and she opened her eyes to look at him he

actually cried. Your strong, brave fighter was an absolute softie at heart and you knew Carys would have him wrapped around her little finger for life. You could already see them ganging up against you, knowing you would never be able to not give in.

Later that night as darkness fell, you placed the baby in her cradle, willing her to sleep for at least a few hours. You wanted time alone with your husband, who at that moment walked out of the bathroom in his skivvies and wrapped his arms around you. Looking down at Carys he squeezed you tightly.

Can ye believe we did this?’ there was wonder in his voice. "We

made a whole person together.’

‘And when all this is over we should make a couple more. Hopefully at least one of them will look like me. you chuckled.

"What? Ye dinnae want a litter o my carbon copies then? I feel almost hurt, lass.' he pouted before sneaking a peck at your lips.

"But I am glad tae have ye to meself fer a wee while. I missed ye."

For a moment you both stood there, your arms around his waist, head resting on his chest while he stroked your hair.

"I missed you too, Jack.' you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing in the smell of him.

‘Come.' he whispered, taking your hand and walking to the bed.

He placed your arms around his neck, leaning down to kiss you as though he had all the time in the world, his lips soft and warm on yours, his tongue teasing your mouth open. Even though you had cursed him and his whole sex while in labor, going so far as to swear you wouldn't let him touch you again, it took only seconds before you felt your desire for him break to the

surface. Heat gathered in your belly, your body coming alive for him as if no time had passed at all. You pressed yourself against him, moaning into his mouth as his hands ran the length of your back,grabbing your rear and tugging you closer.

"Wait.' he pulled away for a moment. 'Is it ok? I don't wan tae

hurt ye.’

"It's been a month, I'm all healed." Even if you hadn’t been you never would have stopped him.

"Alright then. You'll tell me if ye need me tae stop?'

You nodded your assent, fingers tangling in his head and pulling his face down so you could kiss him again. He smiled against your lips as he started undoing the buttons of your dress, making short work of it and your slip. Shivering in delight you helped him peel off his white singlet, running your palms down his chest, feeling him tense under your touch. Silently, you divested one another of your underclothes until you stood naked in front of one another. Collins

placed his hands on your waist, his eyes following their path up your sides to cup your breasts. He was gentle as he touched you, his thumbs grazing your nipples until they peaked, smiling sweetly as you trembled, goosebumps breaking out on your skin. His hands trailed down toward your belly and instinctively you tried to cover yourself. Still recovering from pregnancy you were self-conscious about the extra rolls and the marks that marred your skin.

"Don't.' he whispered softly, kneeling down in front of you and gently moving your hands to your sides. "You are beautiful, you know that right?’

He looked up at you earnestly, and you managed a nod.

‘Don't ever be ashamed of this,' he pressed his mouth to your belly, blowing warm air over your skin. ‘You brought a new life into the world, with this body, my child. That's an incredible feat and

you have never looked more stunning to be than you do right now.’

His words made you want to cry, but his mouth had other ideas, his tongue tracing the path of each stretch mark making you moan his name, dampness flooding between your legs. Sparks of electricity shot from where his lips brushed your skin, prickling through your limbs until they met at a point, throbbing and aching for him.

In a flash of movement he had you up in his arms, crawling onto the bed until your head met the pillows and his body covered yours. He kissed you senseless, your head spinning as his hand pushed on your thigh, opening you under him. Your back arched off bed as his fingers dragged through your wetness, circling around that tiny bundle with frustrating slowness, never quite touching you where you needed him to. Blood pulsed in your veins, rushing in your ears while he took his time, allowing you all the time you might need to be ready for him, which was too slow for you.

"Jack.’ you whined, rolling your hips toward him.

"Hold on love.' he crooned, his lips marking a heated path down your neck.

He slid a finger inside you, slowly, testing for any discomfort from you. His name slipped from your lips breathlessly, it wouldn't have mattered if there had been pain, you still would have wanted him. These moments you could steal away were precious, never knowing when the

the next one might be. Or even if there would be any more.

'I'm fine, I promise, I just want to be with you."

He caught your eyes, the same unspoken fear of the future reflected back at you, then acceptance, love and finally passion. Guiding himself to your entrance and pushing forward slightly, he never moved his eyes from yours, hands holding your head still as he kept searching and finding your love for him staring back at him. With a soft smile he moved again, slowly, but not stopping until he was seated inside you. Wrapping your arms around his back you encouraged him to move, pressing butterfly kisses up and down his neck, your body pulsating

and humming. With a groan, Jack moved, setting a leisurely pace that was loving, gentle, tender and sweet. You both took your time to simply enjoy one-another, to memorize every movement,

every sigh and every whispered endearment. Your pleasure grew slow and warm, spilling through you until you basked in it, blooming and opening until you gave over. He held you tightly as you shivered and trembled, swallowing your low moan with his mouth as you rippled around him. He followed a few moments later, lips against your ear as he whispered his love for you over and over. You held him close to you, and waited until you both stopped shaking, not knowing when the next time you could hold him again would be.

After a time Jack sighed, rolling over onto his back and tucking you in beside him. You lay silently for a time, listening to one another breathe, his fingers stroking your arm softly.

"Have ye given any thought tae going tae Scotland?'

'I have. I'm staying here unțil this is over. I'm not going somewhere where

we won't be able to see you.’

‘You would both be safer there, ye know.’

'I know, but what if this war drags on for years?"

He sighed again and you knew he was torn, while you wanted to grab hold

of any moment with him you could. It was selfish, you knew that.

"Promise me ye'll go if it gets bad again."

You nodded your assent, not wanting to think about all the terrible things that could happen, that had already happened. You talked into the wee hours of the morning, about everything except

the future. Instead you talked about books, music, how his parents farm ran, all happy things that helped you shut out the outside world for just a little longer. Carys woke up once, but fell back to sleep quickly after eating. You tried so hard not to fall asleep, there would be enough

time for that later, but sometime in the dark your eyes had grown heavy and with the soothing comfort of your husband beside you, you had surrendered.

Waking with a start you sat up in bed, the space beside you empty. For a moment your heart stopped, had Jack gone, had he slipped out in the night? No. He would never have done that, it would be too cruel to the both of you. A shadow passed by the window and you held your breath as you heard his voice singing so softly you almost couldn't hear it.

"Can ye no hush yer weepin'

A the wee lambs are sleepin'

Birdies are nestin', nestin' together

Dream Angus is hirplin ower the heather

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell

Angus is here wi' dreams to sell

Hush ye my baby un' sleep without fear

Dream Angus has brought ye a dream my dear”

You didn't move a muscle as Jack’s shadow rocked back and forth gently, repeating the chorus of the lullaby until he finally laid Carys in her cradle and backed away. Turning to the bed he saw

your shadow in the pre-dawn light and climbed beside you holding you tight against his chest as you both laid back.

‘I didna wan tae wake ye, she just had a wee nightmare. My mam

used that lullaby tae sing me that tha' lullaby when I was a we’en. Always did the trick.’

‘It's beautiful.’ you murmured, looking to see the tiniest purple tinge to the sky through the window.

Dawn was coming, and with it Collins would leave again. Tears stung your eyes and you blinked them back, you wouldn't make him see you cry. He had enough to worry about, and you had to be strong so he didn’t go back to war worrying about you rather than himself.

The mood at breakfast was much more somber than the day before, everyone knew what it meant to go back, and though none of you spoke of it, the specter of death hung over you all.

By midmorning he was showered and back in uniform, ready to catch the train north, looking grim when he thought you weren't watching him.

This farewell was like all the rest, and not the only one happening around you. The station was full of young, uniformed men, weeping women and fathers trying to hold it together as their sons went off to war. You stood in each other's arms until the train arrived, Jack quietly singing in your ear as you swayed gently.

"We'll meet again, don't know where,

don't know when, but

I know we'll meet again some sunny day.'

He kissed you when it was time to board, his blue eyes shining as yours were with unshed tears.Uniformed men were leaning out of the windows, saying their farewells, kissing their sweethearts as they smiled and promised they would be home soon. Realistically you knew probably half of them would die far away from all those they loved. Finding a window Jack leaned out with a smile, reaching out his hand for you to grab, all the while telling you he loved you, that he would be back, not be afraid. You held on as long as you could as the train started to move, but soon it was too fast for you and he slipped out of your grasp. You ran after him as long as you could, until you could do more than wave until he rolled out of sight and was gone

July 20 1941

Collins.

Collins barely made mail call and it was with much relief that he managed to toss the letter into the bag before it was too late. He had taken his newest RAF photo a few days earlier and was anxious to send you a copy, he had grown a mustache and hoped that you would find it rather

dashing when you saw him, he certainly liked it and was determined to grow a beard as soon as all this was over. He could already see you laughing and playfully pushing him away as he tried to nuzzle your face with it, then he would do the same to his children, enjoying their playful squeals when he chased them. The other men teased him good-naturedly for his eagerness, all of them having had to run to catch the mail at some point. The sooner you got a letter out the sooner you got one back and they all lived for those loving words from home, often reading them aloud and passing pictures around. He had done it two weeks ago after you had sent him copies of photos taken at the party and all the boys had awed over little Carys, a few of them had even offered to take his pretty wife off his hands. This had led to some friendly wrestling for the photo and sheepish grins when their Commander had come out to yell at them for behaving like children. The whole thing was a basic ritual between them now, along with the gathering of those things for the family when someone didn't come back. Which was more often than any of them cared to admit.

It was a beautiful day, bright sun and a cool, soft breeze and the men were all lying about on the grass next to the airfield. His squadron was stood down for a day so they could rest before

going back out there on their bombing missions. Collins was at war with himself about what he did now. In the spitfires, the enemy was easy to identify, and engage. The German pilots had the exact same mission as he did. When he shot down an enemy pilot he knew what he had done and who he had killed, though it never sat easy with any of them, the killing of another human being, no matter the reason. They tried to justify it by remembering that the same human would just have soon killed them without any hesitation, it was enough to bring a form of acceptance. But now, they crept through the skies under the cover of darkness, dropping bombs on the ground and most of the time sneaking away undetected. But on the ground were civilians, some likely innocent and that sat harder with him. There was not a small amount of guilt for the suffering he helped to inflict, but he would always do his duty. For King and Country and

all that, though he knew he would carry the guilt for the rest of his life. It was one of the many costs of surviving the war.

A football was produced from somewhere and several hours were spent kicking it about, right beside all the planes taking off and landing, the bullet holes in many of them a solemn reminder of reality. It was an unspoken superstition among the men at Feltwell and possibly everywhere else, that they didn't speak of the future after the war, it was considered a jinx and all too often it

had proven to be just so. Farrier had told stories about his plans almost every night and look at what had happened to him. His family may never know what had happened to him and they certainly would never have a body to bury, most of the families wouldn't. Where you fell was

where you stayed and if they found your tags and gave you a wooden cross with your name on it you were lucky.

Trying to shake the depression he was feeling, Collins pulled your photos out of his pouch and gazed at them. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how happy you had all been that

day, they had captured a moment of pure happiness frozen in time. A smile

spread across his face as he looked at his family, someone handed him a cigarette and he lay back in the grass, the sun hot on his bare arms as he remembered all your happy moments

together. The sound of laughter filled the air, the kind of raucous noises that could only come from the play of hot-blooded young men letting off steam. It could almost make him forget, at least until the next plane landed.

'Fall in!'' A voice boomed from near the hangar and every man on the field was instantly back in duty mode, lining up and standing at attention.

Their commander stood before them along with four men, all dressed in the uniform of the New Zealand RAF, all with bright, friendly smiles on their faces. Collins had a feeling he knew what this was about and judging from the grim faces on the others, so did they.

'Right lads, I’m looking for a volunteer to lend these Kiwis a hand tonight, their Flight Sergeant has the runs and they need a replacement for a run tonight, anyone want to offer their assistance?'

Dead silence, no-one ever actually wanted to go on a run. Collins looked at the four kiwis, all of whom looked younger than they had any right to be and saw the grim acceptance in their eyes. With or without a volunteer they would be in the air that night, with one they stood a better chance of surviving.

'I'll go!' Collins' hand was in the air before he even realized what he was doing. ‘Someone needs to show the colonists some real swagger. Aye lads?’

He stepped forward with a grin,trying to lighten the pall that had fallen over them all, the looks of relief on the Kiwi’s faces more than enough to convince him he'd done the right thing.

They all introduced themselves over tea, he would be flying with some great guys, and experienced at that, between them all they had almost 200 sorties done and dusted. In fact there had been more than one occasion when he and the Kiwi crew had been in the air on the same mission, flying alongside one another without ever knowing. The war may have been on many fronts but sometimes it shrunk down so small that it was uncanny.

The other men went back to their leisure time while Collins quietly got himself ready, photos in his pocket for luck and a shot of scotch for courage. The men of RNZAF Squadron 75 quartered on the other side of the base, and boy were they a rowdy lot. He smiled as he walked into the mess and the men started ribbing him about having a stiff upper lip. It was normal and he gave back by asking them if they all had pictures of their sheep. A few laughs and pats on the back later and he was one of the lads, although he was sure he understood their accents

about as much as they understood his..

As it started to get dark, Collins and his four crewmates silently dressed in their flight suits and parachute packs before joining the rest of the squadron on the runway. The ground crew were fueling the five Vickers Wellington bombers that would be flying the mission. There were no escorts, Bomber Command had deemed them non-feasible in the long term and the Wellingtons

were heavily armored and carried a considerable amount of fire power. But they weren't as maneuverable as fighter planes, which often led to problems when they were faced with them. Still, Collins thought, staring at the metal fortress towering above them, these missions were considerably safer than dog-fighting in Spitfires.

‘Time to go mate.’ The wireless operator slapped his back as he walked by, breaking Collins from his thoughts.

"Hey, I thought it was the Aussies that said "mate”’

'Nah, who do you think the thieving bastards stole it from?'

The Kiwi / Aussie rivalry rumors had apparently not been exaggerated. Collins laughed as he slid into his seat in the cockpit of the plane, buckling himself in tightly and immediately beginning

to check his instruments. The pilot, a lad of 19 took his own seat and set about doing his own checks. The others took their own positions and chatted happily as they prepared.

"Hey Collins, you got a sweetheart?"

"Aye, a wife and a wee bairn." he pulled a picture of the three of you out to show the others.

"That's a lovely family you have there, Collins,’ the front gunner showed you a picture of his sweetheart, a pretty blonde girl of about 20. 'Hattie's parents said I couldn't marry her until I got home, so we better move this war along fast, so someone else doesn’t have time to try and steal her away.”

"Right then lads, let's go show the Krauts a thing or two about superior races!”

Collins slid his photo into the instrument panel after kissing it for luck. The bombers powered up and taxied to the runway, taking off into the night in quick succession. For a moment there was silence as they gained their altitude and moved into formation.

“What’s the mission then?”

The Flight-Officer/Wireless Operator unfolded his bundle of papers and pointed to a spot on the map.

“Here.” he handed Collins the aerial photo of their target so the pilots knew what to aim for. “A munitions factory just outside Gelsenkirchen.”

“Where the fuck is that?’

“Near Belgium and the Netherlands, the biggest city close to both of those borders.”

“That’s Western Germany ain’t it?” The young pilot looked unnerved, and Collins couldn’t blame him.

“Sure is, but we are flying up and around to avoid the worst of the Front.”

Collins had flown into Germany many times, but never so close to the Front. From the sounds of things the other men had only done it a handful of times and none were happy about doing it again. Then again orders were orders and they were well trained to follow them without question.

“So then, the flight time should be about one and half hours and it’s hot as soon as we cross the Channel, so stay sharp boys and let’s get home in one piece.”

With that the Flight Officer took his place at the radio and silence settled on the small crew. They remained undetected as they flew over Belgium, their target was closer to the Netherlands but the Germans had control there, so a straight route was out of the question. It was amazing how quiet it was on the ground, at least until they flew closer to Germany and Collins could see the flashes in the dark, the fires and explosions. A prayer was whispered for the men down in the dark as the formation turned North North West toward the small town of Weseke, from where they would turn South toward their target. Intelligence had the area relatively clear of air traffic and at only 40 miles from the target it seemed they were well on course to complete the mission. They were only 20 minutes from dropping their bombs and getting the hell out of dodge.

There was a crackle through the radio and a voice came over sounding concerned.

“Be advised we think we spotted three Me.109’s, stay sharp lads.”

“Fuck.” Collins muttered under his breath, looking out the windows into the darkness.

There was barely enough moonlight to allow any of them to see any more than half a mile in any direction, meaning the Germans could be on them before they even had time to react.

“There!” He spotted a shape that seemed to be keeping pace with them. “One at 2 O’clock, about half a mile away!”

The gunner in the turret turned to aim, spotting the fighter where Collins said it would be. He was good, taking a mere second to open fire, the bullets streaking through the air, silver in the darkness. The German pilot easily dove out of the way before coming back into position. What the hell was he doing?

Collins didn’t like this at all.

“Anyone got eyes on the other two?” he asked into the headset.

“Confirmed, one Me. at 10 O’clock, half a mile out.” This from the other Wellington who was bringing up the rear of the formation.

They were being flanked and there was no sign of the third one anywhere. Their new 'companions' seemed in no rush to engage which had a shiver of unease running down Collins' spine. Looking over at the pilot he saw the same unease mirrored back at him.

Something was very wrong here.

“Heads up, they're moving.”

Collins watched as the fighter beside them banked away and out of sight, a voice on the radio confirming the same move from no. 2.

'This is it! Whatever their plan is it's happening now"

In almost perfect harmony, the five Wellingtons moved defensively, zig zagging across the sky in the hopes the Germans couldn't get a fix on them.

"Fuck me!" Where the hell are they?” he craned his neck to look out the window at all angles but there was nothing, except darkness.

"How are you as a gunner Collins?" the flight officer asked, poking his head into the cockpit.

"I'm a better pilot than gunner, Sir.”

"Actually, I'm good as a gunner, I have excellent aim." the young pilot spoke up.

“Collins, you have control, keep zig zagging” Gunner we need you in the rear in case those bastards come from behind.”

The bullets that hit the perspex in front of his face came out of nowhere and Collins felt his heart start to race from the unexpected shock.

'We're takin fire from the front!' He banked the Wellington as hard as he could, barely escaping the next barrage.

Like a monster rising out of the darkness, he saw the Me. coming straight ahead at him and he pushed the plane down, the bullets streaking overhead by centimeters, followed by lines of return fire, like shooting stars into the night. The Me. was gone before the bullets even got there. He heard the rear gunner firing and a loud curse.

"It's like he's a fucking ghost'' he yelled, searching for any sign of their enemy.

From the radio Collins could hear that the rest of the formation was under attack, men were shouting and the sound of gunfire was alive in the air. They were all well-trained men and if

anything they were going to make it bloody difficult for the Germans to get the better of them.

They were so busy trying to stave off the German fighters that everyone had forgotten one thing.

The third one.

The blast came out of nowhere and if Collins hadn't been strapped into his seat he would have hit the roof of the cockpit. The Wellington shuddered and groaned, the sound of metal buckling and crumpling screaming in the air. He could smell fuel, taste the heavy tang of metal in the air, and could hear the men crying out behind him.

“We’ve been hit!’ he barked into the radio, forcing himself to stay calm while the fear tried to overtake him.

They were still in the air. Chancing a look behind him he saw that the middle of the plane was caved in, trapping the young pilot in the back of the fuselage where he continued to fire relentlessly on the enemy. The Flight - Officer and Bomber were either unconscious or dead, their bodies trapped under crushed metal and framing. Sparks cracked in the air and at any moment one of them could ignite a fire, killing them all.

"Sir, he's coming again!' The gunner in the turret cried out, letting loose a barrage of bullets while Collins tried to bank the Wellington out of the way with no luck. The ability to maneuver was gone, none of the pedals or sticks would respond and it was pure dumb luck that they

were even still in the air. The plane was dead. For the first time he felt terror. They

were going to go down and there was nothing he could do about it.

“If you can bail out, do it!' he called out to the two men, even though he already knew there was no way out.

“No chance for me, I'm stuck in here!” The rear Gunner called

back.

“Same up here.” The front gunner responded. “Let’s at least try and take the Nazi bastard with us!”

Collins could hear the fear in their voices. He could feel it rising in his chest, catching his breath away from him. He was trapped as well, the only escape route now buckled into the middle of the fuselage. His eyes darted around with the speed and terror of a caged animal. Less than a minute had passed since they were first hit, and yet it seemed like hours. In what seemed like slow motion, Collins saw the Me. coming back at them and he called out to the others, bullets flying back and forth in the sky, the other bombers under attack and moving ahead. Banking

and turning sharply, the Me. flew overhead until it could come down behind them, like a lion coming in for the kill.

He heard the bullets, the scream of the pilot as they pierced the tail of the plane, managing to tear it off, along with half the rear gun compartment.

Immediately the Wellington began to whine, the nose falling forward toward the unseen ground. As the plane began its final dive, Collins looked at the photo in front of him. Suddenly he felt no fear, only a heart-aching heaviness in his chest. He could see every memory, every moment you had spent together flashing in his head. So many happy memories. He felt sad that he would never see his daughter grow up, or see your eyes light up again, but he was thankful for the time he'd been given.

The plane fell fast, spinning as it dove, trailing acrid smoke behind it. It took a minute and as it crashed into the ground, crumpling into almost nothing, Collins smiled as he slipped into unconsciousness. He was at peace.

Then the world went dark.

Author’s Notes

On July 20 1940 a Vickers Wellington bomber carrying five souls, was lost near the town of Weseke. They were on a mission to bomb oil and coal infrastructures near the city of Gelsenkirchen in Germany. All on board were killed.

Nothing is known as to how they were lost, only that they were there and then they were gone..

Other crews with them that night reported seeing Me. 109's “Messerschmitts” in the area, so it is

assumed that they were shot down. It would have taken no more than two minutes.

German Ace Pilot (he was not an Ace yet as this was his first confirmed kill), Siegfried Wandam

reported downing a Wellington bomber in the same vicinity on the same night. He was later killed coming in to land, badly damaged in 1943, having claimed 10 kills.

The crew of the Wellington consisted of four Kiwis and two Brits, the Kiwis part of the famous 75th Squadron, the first non- British to fight and suffer losses in the air. The 75th were known for their high success rate and tenacity, they flew the most missions of any squadron, dropped the second highest payload, and suffered the most losses of any other unit.

Bomber and Fighter Command did not believe that fighter escorts were necessary for night-time bombing raids, a belief that left the Wellingtons vulnerable as they only had the ability

to defend themselves from the front and back. In one mission in 1942, 20 Wellingtons were lost out of 33 Allied aircraft downed. A total of 73 men went down . Only 13 survived as P.O.W’s.

The crew of Wellington Mk. Ic R. 3165 AA-L were buried in a communal grave by persons unknown, a marker with their names erected. The only way to identify them was with their dog tags which were collected and returned to their families. At a later time the remains were transferred to be interred at Reichswald Forest War Cemetery in Germany.

7671 men are interred there.

Their names were:

Samuel Miles Mackenzie Watson Age 27

Edward Colin Joseph Cameron Age 19

Ronald John Alexander Anderson Age 26

John Lewis Owen Age 24

G. M. Cumming Age 27

H Wilson Age 21

Ronald Alexander John Anderson was my great-uncle.

From top left: Anderson, Reichswald Forest War Cemetery, Cameron. Middle Left: Final resting place1, communal grave with marker, final resting place 2. Bottom left: Watson, Wandam, Owen.

I could find no photos or information on Wilson or Cumming, who were the two Brits on the sortie.

#jack lowden #collins x reader #dunkirk fanfiction #dunkirk collins #jack lowden fanfiction

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twopoppies · 7 months

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Kanye West is crazy and I usually don't pay no mind to his blabbering but what he said recently about every famous person having a zionist in their contract I believe 100 percent. I'm kinda mad at Harry for not speaking up on this. I know he rarelly does talk about any social issues and I never minded that and would defend him in front of holier-than-thou stan twitter that wants to cancel him for breathing every 5 days but this is like, the only situation where the only thing you can do is post and the palestinians are actively asking you to do it because they can't. He said once in an interview that he's waiting to find one thing that's gonna be his thing to be passionate about. Idk isn't an ongoing genocide a good reason to start... And I'm saying I'm really not looking at Harry Styles for moral guidance or expecting him to be super informed or an activist. But decades from now we're gonna look at this the way we look at the holocaust and wonder how did this happen. Does he really want to stay neutral on this... And he has a lot of friends who are zionists (Winston) or that signed that stupid petition in defense of Israel (Corden, Irving, Olivia)... History won't treat him well if he stays silent as one of the most influental people in the world right now. And the thing is I love him to death and I know he doesn't have a single evil bone in his body. But he is extremely privileged, uninformed, surounded by zionist friends, with whom he is, from what I've observed, very naive. But he won't be given much grace for his silence. At the end of the day it's everyone's own responsibility to educate themselves. He's a 30 year old man with internet access. Because I think what Kanye said is true I'm kinda giving him the benefit of the doubt. But I'm not sure that history will. Or that he deserves it.

Kanye isn’t only crazy, he’s insanely anti-Semitic. Basically he’s blathering on about the old nonsense about “the evil Jews” controlling Hollywood. So he can just fuck off.

I agree with you that Harry is privileged and likely very uninformed on political issues like this one and yes, he’s in a rather complicated spot because he’s very closely affiliated with Irving Azoff who is clearly supporting Israel. I don’t know if Irving/Ben/James are the only ones he’s getting information from, though. I hope not.

I know his fans want him to speak out, and I know that to us it seems like a no-brainer. But, I don’t know if he will make any clear kind of pro-Palestinian statement. I don’t think that means that he supports Israel, but what it ultimately does is make him look like he does and makes it look as though his business relationships are his priority.

At the same time, I really do understand that he may be feeling caught between a rock and a hard place and that keeping out of it is the best option (as most celebrities do in terms of politics). And I understand how complicated it can be as a “brand” to take a stance when your business partners are on the other side of an issue. He’s far from the only celebrity who hasn’t said anything. And I understand that not everyone thinks public displays of activism are as valid as boots on the grounds/money where you mouth is activism. But I can see what a difference people speaking up has made in helping the general public see how awful things are (which, hopefully means there will be political pressure to help the people of Palestine).

Personally, I don’t think history is going to focus on what Harry Styles did or didn’t say, and I don’t like the idea of leveraging threats to one’s legacy. But I do understand what you’re saying and that you’d like to know he’s done something positive in this situation. I truly don’t have an answer for you. I feel very overwhelmed by the whole thing.

More here

#Harry and politics

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defilerwyrm · 1 year

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Hello, thanks so much for your last post! I hope this isn't insensitive, but I'd be really interested to know: What helped you get out of right wing ideology? Do you have any advice for helping people out? Thanks!

It was a combination of things over time.

This turned out to be pretty long so I’m gonna put it under a cut. CW for discussions of various forms of right-wing bigotry within.

a) In the midst of a LiveJournal slapfight, I said something that I absolutely in no way meant or even conceived as being misogynistic, but was clearly taken as such, and was chewed out for it. I went “Tap the brakes, what are you talking about?!” and the gal I was arguing with was kind enough (not nice, but kind) to lay it out for me. And I listened. That started me thinking.

b) I realized that the far right that I vaunted literally wants people like me (queer and disabled) dead. I spent a long time in denial about this, thinking I would be an exception somehow.

c) I dug more into the true nature of white pride groups and discovered that, far from an honorable community of people who are simply proud of their heritage, groups like the Aryan Brotherhood are actually murderous, hyperviolent gangs—in some cases, literal prison gangs—of drug dealers, domestic abusers, and straight-up racists, and I couldn’t reconcile that with my notions of honorable behavior.

d) I actually read Mein Kampf. At first it was mostly curiosity and a way to keep people from talking to me in public. Book 1 (the first half) you can kinda see where he’s coming from, wanting a strong, self-sustaining domestic economy, not relying overly on imports, etc; but Book 2 is where he goes completely off the fucking rails, just utterly batshit, and you can tell it’s coming not from a place of “I want to rebuild my homeland after we were devastated by the aftermath of WWI and the Great Depression” but rather “I have a raging hateboner for this specific group of people who had fuck-all to do with that devastation and will make up just the wildest shit to justify and proselytize that hate.” I didn’t have any strong opinions on Jewish folk then so it really whipped my head back. It’s one thing to learn, in the vague terms that my Texas public school education provided me, about the surface facts of the Holocaust, but I don’t think I had any clue what the depths of the vitriol that led to that horror looked like until I heard it from the horse’s mouth. C and D were the big things that showed me that “white pride” isn’t about finding joy in your heritage—it’s about harboring a deep, dark, hideous hatred for others’ heritage. I did not like that.

e) An element that only in recent years occurred to me, but I think an extremely important one: I did not have a right-wing community. All I had in the way of friends & associates were fairly apolitical, mostly queer people who looked the other way when it came to my horrific personal politics. I think I knew at the time that they were unpopular views (or at least, they were in at the turn of the century) and mostly kept them to myself. As I came to accept and understand my own queerness more deeply, as I lived within the poor queer community of my hometown, as I made friends with more and more diverse groups of people, I found things within myself to be proud of, and those close to me—the very people whom the far right still want dead—welcomed me, guided me, supported me. No one on the right was there for me that way. I didn’t have a cluster of far-right friends beating their noxious values back into my head at every turn. The community I had vs the community I didn’t have made it a lot damn easier to make that heel-face turn.

With all that in mind, I think I can offer two pieces of advice:

Understand that far-right ideology is fundamentally built on anxiety and insecurity. Racists, misogynists, homophobes etc latch onto their identities as white, men, straight etc because it’s something they did not have to work for/on and cannot be removed from them, so they hold up these intrinsic traits as things that make them “superior” to others despite evidence to the contrary. Look at how many out-of-shape, mediocre white men brag that they could win a tennis match against Serena or Venus Williams. They don’t think they’re good at tennis—and they are absolutely not going to go through the years of extremely challenging work and practice and dedication required to get that good—they think they’re superior because they’re white men, even though factually either of the Williams sisters would destroy them blindfolded. The reason they go out of their way to make these ridiculous claims is because they feel insecure that someone who isn’t white and a man is better than them at something. This is also what’s behind the whole “Oh they just chose/should choose the best person for the job”—they’re saying they don’t believe someone who isn’t an abled cishet white man COULD be the best person for the job, regardless of what the job is. I don’t think the answer to this is just to point out the innumerable amazing achievements of people of color, queer folk, disabled folk, etc, because they’ll just go “yeah well MY people did xyz.” They’re feeling insecure. What they need is something about themselves to be proud of that they, personally, accomplished: being a good woodworker, or a talented speaker, or a whiz at math, some skill they have worked to foster. What they need is a sense of confidence that their worth is not dependent on what they were born with/as. For me, learning to value myself for who I am and who I can choose to be helped me stop looking down on others for what they are and did not choose to be, because I no longer needed imaginary metrics of superiority and inferiority to prop up a lack of self-worth and an iceberg’s worth of self-loathing.

Separate them from their herd. Understand that many will choose the security of the familiar over the risk of the new. But familiarity does not breed contempt—it opens eyes. A LARGE part of far-right ideology is made up of lies and assumptions and outright ignorance. Don’t just dunk them into the deep end right away, but exposure therapy is the name of the game. It’s a lot easier to think of (for example) Black people as being inferior to you when you don’t freaking know any, or to think of trans people as just a niche category of porn if you’ve never actually talked—and LISTENED—to us. Understand that right-wing social circles are vicious, internecine places where everyone is frothing at the mouth to pull someone down the instant they misstep, and they will expect the same from a left-wing circle. “Well actually” might be your friend here, rather than rubbing their nose in every fuckup or shitty thing they say. The goal is to, you know, teach them how to care about other people, and you have to model that for them. Offer other ways of looking at things instead of just “no, that’s wrong.” This can be an arduous and painful process for everyone, but if their mind can be pried open, it will be worth it in the end.

#racism cw #homophobia cw #how i learned to stop being a horrific fuckhead #replies to things

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