#warloving

[bastardswxrd]

@warloving || boop

        Buzz watched with clouded eyes as water ran down his arm, mixing with blood and turning pink before finally spilling into the tub. The water was dirty now, but he felt no cleaner. Bezi dragged the sponge down his back and Buzz fixed on the sensation, suddenly hyper-aware of the texture, heat, and weight. A dull, familiar sickness rolled in his stomach.

         Medically discharged from the Air Force and with a psychological evaluation looming in the weeks ahead, Buzz couldn’t see himself back in the military. No general in their right mind would take him back, and he couldn’t blame them. Somehow in just the matter of a few days, he’d burned everything he had to the ground. His career, his relationship with his best friend, and his reputation: gone. Everything with the exception of Lieutenant Tye.

         Like fuse being lit, anger burst through his chest and he twisted. Water sloshed and pain shot through his neck and ribs, but he ignored it and shoved Bezi’s arm away.

         “I can do it,” Buzz snapped. “I can bathe my damn self.”

Heart heavy in his chest, Bezi focused on the feeling of the sponge in his hands. When he’d first laid eyes on Buzz, he never could have guessed that they would end up here. Maybe he should have figured it out as they began to spend time together, but where they stood now still made his heart sick.           Bezi flinched from the sudden motion, but quickly recovered. Anger sliced through him. Everything he had done- was doing- for this son of a bitch, and he still pulled this shit?           He growled as he grabbed Buzz’s wrist in one hand and held him down with the other.            “Can you?” He snapped back, nodding with his chin at his injuries. “Turn your fucking pride off for ten minutes and let me get you clean, or so help me I will tie you down,” he snarled, fangs bared.

[colpapabear]

@warloving // xxx

         Everett came off the other boy swinging and spitting like a tomcat. Blood filled his nose and mouth, but he was seeing red. He’d kill Danny for saying what he did! He’d beat his lights out!

         “Leggo–! Hey, leggo of me!” Everett’s feet lifted off the pavement for a half second as he was dragged back and he flailed, kicking and scrabbling, trying to squirm out of the stranger’s hold. Before he could manage any sort of success, Danny had picked himself up and darted, dribbling blood from his lip as he went.

         “You ever show your face again,” Everett called, “somebody’ll have to scrape ya off the sidewalk! You hear me?!” He growled in frustration. “Mister, I said lemme go, now, c’mon!”

Reluctantly, Rob let go of the boy - and he was a boy. He couldn’t be older than his early teens. “Alright, alright,” he said, a warning tone in his voice, lest he tried to go for him next.

“Nobody ever teach you stop when the other man’s down?” he reprimanded him, bulding himself up an inch taller by straightening his back. 

[wisenedup]

@warloving​ || boop

         “Damn, you really did burn up like a fried egg, didn’t you?” Buzz laughed as he helped Bill out of his shirt. All over Bill’s shoulders and arms, the skin was bright, watermelon red. Though not bad enough for blistering (thank god), the skin was peeling and cracked, and Buzz could imagine just how painful it must be to wear a shirt at all.

         Buzz motioned for Bill to sit backwards in one of the chairs and grabbed for the ointment the nurses had prescribed. Mumbling that it was going to be cold, he began rubbing the lotion onto Bill’s shoulders.

         “I can’t believe you passed out up there,” he added, conversationally. “Guess you won’t hit the bottle so hard next time, huh?”

Bill clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the sensation that lay over him like a hot blanket. He’d only had one sunburn before, and it hadn’t been that bad; just a spot on his shoulder where he had fallen asleep on the beach. It couldn’t compare at all to what he was experiencing now.         He swallowed and fought the urge to feel and pick at it as he sat in the chair. Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of Buzz applying the lotion and he nearly shot right back out of the chair- but instead he gripped it tightly, the shocks of cold overwhelming everything else.         He groaned low in his throat, doing his best to stay still.         “Haven’t been sleeping well,” he grumbled. Which was the truth- which was why he had been drinking. 

[sois-beaufort]

@warloving liked for a starter

“Can I help you, soldier?” Christoph asked politely, eyeing the handsome man. He was leaning against the cracked facade of a hospital, currently full of injured allied troops and newly freed, French civilians. “You’ve earned our gratitude.”

[warbereaved]

||  @warloving   ||  cont.  ||

        “That’s where you’re wrong.” Buzz connected their gaze with a slanted smile. “War solves everything. Don’t they teach you kids anything in school anymore?” An ironic statement coming from a young man who just barely scraped through any education and had been more of a menace to teachers than a prize pupil.

         “Empires were built on battle,” he explained, eyes never leaving hers. “War is progress, power, every country in the world relies on it. Like it or not, war is a necessity, and blood is in high demand these days, honey.”

P A I N T E D   L I P S   P R E S S   together  tightly,  a  bitter  taste  burning  in  her  esophagus  at  the  stranger’s  words.      He  did  not   t h i n k,  did  not   K N O W.     Yet,  her  desire  to  remain  calm  did  not  exclude  an   o v e r w h e l m i n g   need  to  respond.          ❝  America  doesn’t   N E E D  an  empire.  ❞          Her  voice  remains  even  but  the   i r e   behind  it  stays  audible.     Neither  was  she  a   K I D,  but  that  remark  did  not  require  comment.          ❝  My  husband   d i e d   in  the  Pacific.      I  know   E X A C T L Y   the  cost  of  that  blood.  ❞

[bastardswxrd]

@warloving Well past dark on a weekday evening, Bezi didn’t expect any visitors. His lights were on, but he was lounging in a chair with a great big chocolate lab on his lap. The both of them were nearly asleep.        It was 1923, although his house hadn’t seemed to have gotten the memo. All around there were hints of anachronisms; glimpses of the future. His chair was a soft microfiber. His dog wore a nylon collar. The faucet and sink in the kitchen were too new, too perfect. The lightbulbs, hidden behind plain shades, were brilliant and clear.          He was just drifting off when he heard a knock at the door. Mitra’s head popped off his lap and snapped towards the door, her ears pricked to the sound of a visitor. With one excited bark, she scrambled off his lap- kicking off his stomach like a spring board- and dashed across the room for a pillow. She snatched it up and ran to the door with it in her mouth, wagging everywhere, her paws scrambling on the linoleum floor.          When her paws made contact, Bezi doubled over, groaning, to nurse his poor stomach. “Mitra! I’m right here!” He scolded. He gingerly rolled out of his chair as she raced off to grab her gift for the visitor, and barely made it to the door with her dashing and wriggling all around his legs.           Once he got Mitra to sit down- although she still wiggled in place, slipping on the floor a little- he opened the door to see who was here so late.

[bastardswxrd]

@warloving || boop

        “Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

         It had been years since he’d stepped foot on the manor grounds and he wished he could say that he was glad to be back, but really? He could have watched the whole place go up in smoke and be happier than he was now. Still— there was something to be said, at least, that the old man went up in smoke. Call Everett “vile” and “petty” all you wanted, the idea of it made him want to laugh and kick his heels. The only thing that could have made it better was if he’d been the one to off Sir Reginald Hargreeves himself.

         “So who finally snapped and killed the bastard?”

“None of us, I’m afraid,” Klaus answered wistfully. He almost wished that they had, but it was enough that the bastard was dead.          One hand raised to his chest and then floated off in a fluttery motion as Klaus demonstrated Reginald shuffling off the mortal coil. “Dear old dad’s heart gave out,” he explained, “Although Luther- being Luther- is convinced that someone else did him in.” Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered, “Diego is his prime suspect.”         Straightening with a shrug, Klaus leaned back against the column. “Me? Well, I~ think that all that hate in his heart finally bubbled over and killed him. Either way, I’m just glad he’s dead.”

[bastardswxrd]

@warloving || boop

         A smart man might have been intimidated by a man Bezi’s size; he was practically a giant, towering almost a full foot above him, but the difference only seemed to cause Buzz to prickle more.

         Buzz stood straight and tall, chin high, and shoulders tight as if bracing himself to hit or be hit. In fact, Buzz almost wished that this whole thing would come to blows. He’d like nothing more than to knock that stupid, smug look off the lieutenant’s face. He could swear the filthy monster thought he was better than him, but he wasn’t. He was the captain, not Bezi. He could fly circles all around him and then some.

         The pub grew quiet and some of the boys had already begun to leave, sensing the tension sparking between the two officers. Others were more eager to see what might happen and stood back to watch. Embarrassment crept along Buzz’s neck.

         If he had his way, he could kill Lieutenant Tye.

         “How about you stay out of it?” he hissed. “You know, one day you’re going to stick your nose into my business and I’m gonna snap it off your face.”

Bezi trembled imperceptibly. It made him sick, the fact that this man shared a face and voice with his Josh. It was as if his very life was a spit in the face of Josh’s memory, and he struggled with the sight of Josh’s face saying and doing those things.         His hands clenched, claws digging into his palms so that he didn’t do anything stupid or rash. Gods knew that Josh would probably be the first one talking him down from attacking this scumbag. That made it even worse.         The hair on the back of his neck bristled where his hackles would have raised in another form. Every instinct he had was buzzing with the anticipation of a fight. His body was tense from it. He was aware of the other soldiers scurrying out, or vying for good views, but he ignored them. Buzz was all he was concerned with.           He growled low in his throat as Buzz spoke, jaw clenching. He sounded so much like Josh, only Josh would never say those things.          “Lay off her, Buzz, or it’s your nose that’s getting snapped off.”