she/her • sapphic • adult 🔞 • current faves: Band of Brothers, All Quiet On The Western Front & Fallout • bi Ciri truther and Fem Fortress enjoyer • anti netflix's witcher
Home of all things Witcher EXCEPT the tv show, Band of Brothers, and Fallout (again, couldn't give less of a f about the show). Occasionally also war history, Red Dead Redemption, Team Fortress, Cyberpunk and Mouthwashing. Mostly* SFW: screenshots, memes, shipping and reblogging other people's art.
*For more intense ships and other potentially spicy content I do have another, NSFW one, but I rarely post there.
Enjoy.
PS. I also post a bit of my own stuff, check it out under the #mine or #my screenshots tags
the pacific by hbo // emily wilson's introduction to the iliad // red river valley written by unknown // ophélie by constantin meunier // judas-redeemed // point defiance steps by cecilia blomberg // there's something inside the water by victor clemete
Captain Haldane was the finest and most popular officer I ever knew. All of the Marines in Company K shared my feelings. [...]
He had a rare combination of intelligence, courage, self-confidence, and compassion that commanded our respect and admiration. We were thankful that Ack Ack was our skipper, felt more secure in it, and felt sorry for other companies not so fortunate.
— E.B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa (1981)
For OC asks, 15 for both Ida and Christa (◍•ᴗ•◍) my wives of all time. I have Ida on one arm and Christa on the other, we will take over the world together because I love them lots
- 🌸
Hiii!!! Thank you for the ask, I love these two!!!
15. What places hold significant meaning or memories for your OC? Do they have a positive or negative association with those places?
Ida:
- Nuremberg. Basically all of it, it's her hometown after all and Ida loves that place (mostly, there are some complicated feelings as well, but she remembers it as a place where she was happy). Ida considers it her Heimat. "Heimat is a German word translating to 'home' or 'homeland'. The word (...) has no exact English equivalent. The word describes a state of belonging "the opposite of feeling alien," and its definition is not limited to a geographical place." (Wikipedia) This is her place, this is where her roots are, this is what she never stops longing for. In Nuremberg a few specific places are the Grübelstraße (brooding street) where her childhood home stood, Weintraubengasse (grape street) where she lives now with Klara, Henkersteg (hangman's footbridge) where she used to spit into the river from. The river in general (Pegnitz) is an important place. Not to bore you too much with random places in that city but there is also the church she used to go to, the ponds where she went swimming, her old school (Ida, despite being a Protestant, went to a Catholic girl school. She enjoyed going to school).
- Berlin. She spent seven years of her life there and during those seven years she made both the best of memories and the worst. Here it's especially her and Christa's old flat, which no longer stands and those of Moritz and Viktor (especially Moritz, of course).
- Fischbachau. That's a tiny little place in the Alps where she and Rosie (her future husband Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal, the canon guy I ship her with) have their first kiss. Cute stuff happens there. She also throws herself into a lake.
Christa:
- Berlin, as well. Christa was born and raised in Berlin, she's a Berliner through and through. She's never actually really left Berlin for longer stretches of time and she's fine with keeping it that way. Christa likes the modern feel of the city, the fact that it feels like big, important things are happening there at all times and she likes the amount of interesting people you can find there. Berlin's chic, Berlin is disgusting, Berlin's young, Berlin is old. In Christa's opinion it's got everything you could ever want, so why go anywhere else. Some specific places:
The house she grew up in, the apartment she and Ida used to live in, the ministry they worked at, apartments and houses of friends, the Tiergarten (big park), Spandau Prison where she ends up working post-war.
- The Baltic See, especially the town of Warnemünde. She and Ida had a vacation there once and that was a lovely time which both of them think about often (but I didn't want to mention it twice).
In Berlin she has all kinds memories, some good, some amazing, some terrible.
- Special mention to the as of yet unnamed café where she hangs out with her friends regularly.
#‘’we are obliged to keep this data for 4 weeks after which it will be destroyed’’#versus#‘’we are obliged to keep this data for 4 weeks after which YOU will be destroyed’’
Day Nine of ocdynamicsmonth with my Lizzie and @decathecter's Walery. Read the full fic here.
This is the part of the fic which fits today's prompt the best!
Pine trees and honeysuckle lined the small foot path that was AJ's favorite track for a short walk.
Up ahead on the dusty trail she could see two people moving next to each other, one broad and sturdy back and the other tall and slender. The two men were walking slowly and AJ's enthusiastic steps which forced Lizzie into a near-jog meant that she caught up to them quickly. She recognized Denver's light blonde hair quickly, but not the men next to him and she nearly let out a giddy giggle; this could only be the European friend. Something had seemed strange about his silhouette when he had been further away and now that she had gotten closer, Lizzie could see what it was. He was missing a leg from the knee downwards, the hem of his trouser sewn shut around the stump and he was supporting himself on crutches.
There was surely never going to be another equally natural chance to talk to them, have a conversation which wasn't just politely yelling across the fence. When AJ reached the men, Lizzie hurried to catch up to the two of them and put an apologetic expression on her face, as if to say: dogs. What can one do?
The man at Denver's side had stopped and was stroking AJ's head, who was so happy about the attention that one could think she didn't have two kids and at least one adult fawning over her all day. He had stuck one crutch between arm and chest to free a hand for it, balancing it on one leg and one crutch only now.
"I'm sorry, please don't let her bother you. AJ," she added sternly, "you can't just run up to people like that. Bad dog."
"She is no bother at all and a very good dog, it seems," the men replied kindly and scratched the fur underneath AJ's chin. He had a British accent, tinted with something which reminded her of Agnieszka's mother and felt instantly familiar and comforting. He looked up and the sun illuminated a pair of the most peculiar eyes Lizzie had ever seen. They were of an intense light green, as if someone had cut open a lime and placed a pupil inside, one dark layer around a circle of green that appeared almost yellow in the sunlight.
"This is Mrs Lemmons," Denver introduced them.
"Elizabeth," she corrected. In the first few months of her marriage the thought of being Mrs Lemmons had made her dizzy with excitement, and before that she had daydreamed about no longer being a Ms; but now it only made her feel old, especially coming from someone like Denver. Not that the man was ancient, he seemed to be five or so years older than her, but still; it felt strange.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth," Denver's friend replied, straightened up and held out his hand for Lizzie to shake; his fingers were long and slim, almost opposite to Lizzie's shorter and softer ones. "Walery Milczarek. But you can call me Mr Val, I know it can be quite the mouthful."
"On the contrary, I think it is beautiful. Dzień dobry, Mister Milczarek."
"Dzień dobry," he replied, with a slightly bemused smile, one of his eyebrow slifting up, "Denver didn't tell me you spoke Polish."
"I don't really, my best friend is Polish you see-" Lizzie broke off and chuckled self-consciously. He was probably only teasing her. "But you seem to have a British accent, if you don't mind me asking. Have you spent some time in England?"
"I certainly don't mind. I live in England currently. If I am not visiting old friends in America, that is." He threw Denver a fond look which the other answered with an equally fond smile.
Curiouser and curiouser. Lizzie wondered how an American paratrooper, because that was what Denver had done during the war, his mother had told Lizzie proudly, had met a polish- Well, a polish what? She didn't know what Mr Milczarek did for a living.
AJ, disappointed by the fact that Mr Milczarek had stopped petting her, trotted over to Denver and nudged her snout against his knee. The man gave her a friendly pet on the head.
"I'm from East Anglia," Lizzie explained.
"I live in Brighton."
"Lovely!"
AJ suddenly turned around herself, chasing her own tail, before leaping forward, kicking up dust as she chased a few steps down the path. "I think she's trying to tell me that I have kept the two of you for too long. We should head back. AJ!" She called.
"No need to go back. Street belongs to us all and your doggo looks like she wants to move a bit more," Denver said.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose..." Lizzie said, but she was sure that her eyes, sparkling hopefully, were betraying her true feelings to the men. Ken had been right: she was a horrible snoop, no better than the women in her small town back home who had tracked every single one of Lizzie's movements and relayed it back to her mother. At least every movement they had been aware of - she and Agnieszka had become rather sneaking over the years.
"You ain't bothering us none."
Well, now that he had basically invited her along, almost entirely of his own accord, it would be entirely rude to decline and Lizzie had no choice but to accompany the men for a little while longer.
They sat out at a slower pace than she was used to, Mr Milczarek’s crutches hindering him from walking much faster. The wet Arkansas heat around them was filled with the sounds of cicadas and birds calling out to each other. Lizzie could identify mockingbirds and crows and a third one Ken almost pointed out to her, but whose name she simply could never recall.
"How did you two meet, then?" Lizzie asked, unable to contain the question any longer.
"During the war," Denver replied vaguely, hesitantly, and Lizzie was aware enough not to press.
"I met Kenny, Mr Lemmons, my husband, that is during the war as well."
"You must have been very young," Mr Milczarek observed.
"I was only eighteen when we first met and Kenny was nineteen but he was already crew chief." Sometimes she simply couldn't help but show off.
"That is impressive. He must have held a lot of responsibility back then."
Lizzie nodded. "Absolutely. It was a challenging time for all of us."
There was a certain loll on the conversation, one that always came with people who had experienced it personally. Many Americans who had stayed home during the war never had the same hesitation that even Lizzie, who had only heard the bombing in the distance and seen the damaged planes returning, felt whenever the war came up.
The path ahead of them curved; it was a loop road and led right back to their houses without them having to turn around at a certain point.
Lizzie decided to try to get a little more information out of Walery with a less loaded topic. He was after all her neighbor for the next few weeks and it was of utmost importance to know thy neighbor. It did say so in the Bible after all (more or less).
"Do you have any plans for your stay?" Lizzie wiped her hand over her forehead, trying to dry away some of the sweat which had collected beneath her hair; but the straps of her sundress only covered her shoulders and left no fabric to truly achieve anything. She could feel sweat pooling beneath her breasts and would have liked to shake out the fabric of her dress over her chest; but this would have been most improper, so she would have to wait until she got back inside to dab it away with a damp cloth.
"We gonna take it slow," Bull explained, "no rush."
"Denver promised me a round trip in a truck and I was promised some marvelous lakes," Mr Milczarek added, "a great many places to put my new camera to use."
"Oh yes, there is a lake nearby which is absolutely lovely. The children love it. Jimmy, my son, claimed he caught a ‘ginormous’ Alligator Gar with his bare hands last week, but it bit him so he had to let go of it. So, watch out for those."
Mr Milczarek gave a dry chuckle. "I haven't been warned of the dangerous wildlife yet."
"Didn't wanna scare you off comin'," Denver joked.
"Do you like to swim, Mr Milczarek? You must have many opportunities in Brighton."
"Regretfully, my leg won't let me swim anymore," he explained with a wince, as if the reminder had brought a fresh wave of pain to his limp.
Lizzie's eyes wandered down his pants, as if to confirm that the limb hadn’t suddenly grown back while she had looked away. A war injury, probably, a topic better left hanging in the air. "That's a pity," she said.
"I also brought my camera. I want to photograph some of the local flora and fauna, to show my family back home."
"Oh, do you have a wife back in England?" Lizzie asked and searched for a ring on his ring-less fingers.
"I do not. I was referring to my sister and nieces."
"Ah. Well," Lizzie replied brightly to cover up her confusion, "Arkansas has a great many interesting plants and animals. The insects and invertebrates alone are really quite different from back in England, now during the summer the air is full of Green Darners, they can grow really quite large - well, that's not very interesting."
"Oh no, do continue. You seem to be an expert."
"It's just a hobby," Lizzie replied, her cheeks heating up, "but yes, I do know a little about what crawls and grows around here."
"Then maybe you could point out a few near our houses? If you could spare a moment, that is."
"Absolutely! I would love to."
-
Mr Milczarek, or rather Walery, as he had insisted by the end of their walk, had disappeared inside the Randleman's house to gather his camera. Denver, too, had said goodbye, citing yard work which needed to be taken care of.
Lizzie had squatted down to give AJ a proper cuddle for being an extraordinarily good girl during their walk and the dog was reciprocating her affection by licking her face enthusiastically, when the sound of a camera clicking made her head turn towards the house.
"Excuse me, I couldn't help myself," Walery explained.
Lizzie waved her hand. "No problem. There are some magnificent Diana Fritillary just over there. Of course, they are always magnificent but these ones seem especially lovely."
She led him over to a patch of butterfly milkweed, the orange plant swarmed by equally orange butterflies.
"Magnificent indeed." With some difficulties Walery crouched down and took a picture of the butterflies. "What did you call them again?"
"Diana Fritillary. Speyeria diana."
"They remind me of those other butterflies, Monarchs?"
"Yes, those are also native to Arkansas, but their pattern is almost the inverse of that of the Diana Fritillary. These have a big black spot towards the thorax, while the Monarchs seemed lined in black. It's a distinct difference. And these are all male, the females are blue.”
"You really are an expert," Walery insisted.
Lizzie blushed, pleased this time. "I've always been interested in insects, ever since my father got me this little book full of pictures."
"So he passed on his passion to you? My mother was a grand opera singer and I am sure she wished that I had inherited her musical talent, but I was only ever unsatisfactory on the piano."
Lizzie chuckled. "I'm sure you were an adequate piano player."
She showed him a few more flowers and small animals around the house, until Jimmy ran out of the house and up to her, something cupped in his hand.
"Mom, look what I found!"
He presented her proudly with a Green Treefrog, vibrant against his dirty palm. Then, as if in his single minded focus to show his mother his catch he hadn't noticed the company they were in, he looked over to Walery, startled and asked: "Who's that? Why does he look weird?"
"James Lemmons! That is not nice!" Lizzie gave Jimmy's earlobe a sharp tug. Now it seemed as if she had raised a mannerless little brat. "You say sorry immediately."
"Ow, mom!" He complained. He pushed his bottom lip out as if he was the one who had been insulted. "Sorry."
"That's an interesting frog there," Walery said, as if the last few sentences hadn't been exchanged and Lizzie couldn't fault him for it. It certainly couldn't have been the first time that someone had made a tactless comment about his missing leg. He must be getting more than sick of it at this point. "Would you mind if I take a picture of it?"
Jimmy hesitated, caught between pouting and showing off his frog and then held it out to Walery. "I caught him just now and dad says I gotta put 'im back later."
"My nieces also like to collect frogs," Walery told him, after putting great effort into capturing the perfect angle of the rather plain frog.
"That's right nice. My sister don't like frogs at all, she's so boring."
"Jimmy! Oh, you are a terrible brute today. Go back inside and talk to your father."
For all his misbehaviour earlier, Jimmy now turned back without complaining.
"You really must think that I am a terrible mother," Lizzie complained as she turned to Walery, "usually my children are better behaved."
"Not at all. My two nieces are a handful as well."
