Latest Posts by strudelcreme - Page 5

Amour à la française...

For the sweet @strudelcreme​ 🍨🥧🎀

I hope you’ll enjoy the story

In Dordogne, the Basterds had settled in an abandoned house to await orders for their next mission.

But for now, they were all enjoying the beautiful spring days and relaxing. 

Sitting on a stump, Aldo watched his team relax: Donny, Utivich, Zimmermann and Omar played cards while Sakowitz read a book in his corner. Hirschberg napped under an apple tree, Kagan smoked his cigarette while drawing in his notebook, and Hicox read the newspaper. As for Hugo and Wicki, they were chatting in their native language.

But someone was missing. Fortunately, she arrived!

“Here I am!”

Aldo turned his head and smiled as he saw (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group, arrive. This young 21-year-old woman was recruited for her spying and code-breaking skills. 

If to the Allied secret service she was Agent (L/N), to her fellow soldiers she was (Y/N), their “little fairy.”

They all fell in love with her pretty face and her adorable smile. And of course, all the Basterds loved to play the role of her servant knight.

Even Hugo, the most taciturn of the group, would smile in her presence!

But the one who had the biggest crush on the young woman was none other than Lieutenant Raine. Ever since (Y/N) joined their group, the former bootlegger had fallen under the spell of the young spy.

His men had noticed this and loved to tease him about it, especially Donny.

And they knew that (Y/N) was not insensitive to Aldo’s charm. According to Utivich, they would make a charming couple if the Lieutenant could find the courage to admit his feelings.

In the meantime, Lieutenant Raine was making a pretence of courting the young woman, and that was fine.

Aldo smiled as the young woman greeted the other Basterds, even surprising Hicox with a kiss on the cheek.

She walked over to Raine and said:

“Here I am again, Lieutenant!”

“Please, (Y/N): I already told ya that ya could call me Aldo. When ya say Lieutenant, I feel like an old jackass!”

“But because ya’re old!" shouted Donny, causing his comrades to howl with laughter.

"Shut up, Donowitz!” snapped Raine.

Fortunately for Donny, (Y/N) came to his defence.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Aldo: he was only joking!”

Aldo would have railed against his sergeant, but the pleading look in her eyes made him give in.

He grumbled:

“Well, that’ll do for this time, Donowitz. But if ya do it again, ya’ll be on night duty for the whole damn week! Do I make myself clear?”

The other Basterds just snickered: all it takes is for (Y/N) to make eyes at the obstinate Aldo Raine to give in.

A little later, the Basterds were eating their provisions around a campfire, chatting happily. While eating a piece of bread, Aldo did not take his eyes off (Y/N). He smiled fondly at the young woman joking with Omar and Hirschberg.

He would never admit it to his men, but he was in love with (Y/N) (L/N). Only, did she feel the same way about him, or did she only appreciate him as a friend? 

There was only one way to find out…

Keep reading

...keep your enemies closer

hbd cutie.

Here’s a redraw of an old sketch I made from a few years ago, when I was geeking out about the formation of the post WW2 world order in the final years of the war. This is specifically inspired by the leaders of the “big 3” countries who led the Yalta conference in 1945, and who were famously champions (left to right respectively) of imperialism, capitalism, and communism. More excitingly, it’s cute to think the countries that these leaders represented imitating their bosses’ preferred modes of smoking tobacco products reflected their personalities, while coping with the stress and excitement of victory of war in sight – and trying to look fearless, inadvertently yet appropriately coming off looking truly evil.

A small mishap.

(Gerold Hirschberg x Female!Reader)

For the lovely @strudelcreme , hope you enjoy 💛💛 and I am sorry if it sucks. ❤️ There are no gifs for this boy 🤣

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Right back at ya, shortie."

Gerold looked over to (Y/n), with the deadliest glare he could muster. His relationship with the Basterds poison master was…strained to say the least. They rarely saw eye to eye, which made the current situation quiet an inconvenience for them. The situation in question was that, there was only one sleeping bag left. (Y/n) groaned aloud. Why was it that it was always here stuck in these situations? Was this some sort of godly practical joke? A hand clapped on both of their backs.

"So, you two got stuck with the last one. You gonna share?" Donny asked with a grin. Gerold cursed himself for sharing some information with the Staff Sergeant, and by the shit eating grin on his face, he knew what Donny was trying to say. "Nah, I'd rather sleep on the ground." Gerold immediately answered, earning a chuckle from Donny and an offended look from (Y/n). "Oh come on, Hirschberg. It's only one night, maybe then you'll finally get some-" Donny began, before Hirschberg hit him in the gut with the back of his gun. (Y/n) shot him a confused look. "What the hell was he on about?"

"Nothin', just the whole Donny nonsense."

Gerold walked over to the sleeping bag. It looked good, for being a used one. Comfortable, too. Gerold, however, laid next to it. "You can have it." He said simply. Hirschberg wasn't the type to let anything go, so this surprised (Y/n). Taking small strides, she got into the bag and motioned him to come over. "It's going to be cold tonight, and you need something to cover up." (Y/n) reasoned. Gerold stood silently for a moment. He could already feel the brush of cold against his exposed skin. But the thought of being so close to her was far more terrifying. Nevertheless, he moved into the bag with her, muttering a small thanks in the process. " You really didn't have to." Gerold said. (Y/n) chuckled softly, "Like I hate you too, shortie but I am not gonna let you freeze to death."

Gerold smiled, suppressing a laugh. "You ain't half bad, (L/n)." He commented. "You ain't bad yourself, Hirschberg." A comfortable silence came over. It was then that both (Y/n) and Gerold heard the whoops and the yeahs! of the others. Gerold groaned loudly. "The hell are they hollering about?" (Y/n) asked. Gerold didn't know how to answer her. He wanted to confess and get all the shit off of his chest, but...he was afraid. He heard (Y/n) yawn next to him. 

"Whatever, I'm beat. Goodnight, shortie." 

"Goodnight, (L/n)"

Once he was sure that (Y/n) was asleep, Gerold pulled a little away, and whispered toward the others. "You trying to get me in trouble?" He seethed. Smithson laughed, along with the others. "We're just trying to help." He answered. Gerold scoffed and turned back. His eyes fell on (Y/n). She looked so peaceful like this.

Maybe one day...one day he will have the guts to confess but...not tonight.

@fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @empress-writes @jokersqueenofchaos @aurelie34-43 @strudelcreme @struggling-bee @sergeant-donny-donowitz

Because I’m on a roll, America and Germany in the 1950s. Sometimes both sides of the conflict are assholes. Sort of a continuation of this comic.

Addition, because I had fun drawing this:

The Banes Of The Nations Past’s (Axis + Allies)

Requested by Anonymous

Warning: America’s has a bit of my own headcanon in it, you do not have to agree with me! Also, my history major ass had a little too much fun with this one. Hey, at least you’ll learn something

Germany: This one is quite the given, but the one regret Germany has in his life is the time period from 1939-1945. He hates to even mention the name of it, not because he wants to ignore what occurred, he just can’t bear reliving every malicious thing he had done. By far, out of all of the nations, Germany is the most traumatized of his past. He hates that he was so easily swayed by the Nazi party, how quick he was to obey his boss, how eager he was to take a train up to Poland… Do him a favor and completely avoid the topic of World War Two all together around him, he gets very hard on himself. To pay back for everything he had done, Germany has gone out and spent millions and millions of dollars towards awareness towards racism, the holocaust, and to survivors themselves. Most of the world has forgiven him for his mistakes, all of the Jewish survivors that he has met have forgiven him too, yet, somehow, he’s very unwilling to forgive himself.

North Italy: He finds it hard to regret things in life, being a mostly relaxed nation- being a colony himself and only having a slight piece of land during The Scramble of Africa, North Italy can’t really put himself up on a bad moral pedestal like everyone else. Though, even though it occurred more predominantly where his brother lived, the Mafia haunts him, so much to the point where he’s had to see doctors. He’s seen horrible things happen, to women, to children, even to grown men, and he had just let it slide. He had become so  complacent to brutal mob activity that he had just accepted it while it was happening. His brother, South Italy, at some point was so heavily involved (and being destroyed) by the Mafia, and he had just let it be. He regrets ever being associated, and associating himself with such a violent group of people, and he fears people think of him as the country where mobs come from.

Japan: Japan had done many questionable things in his past, especially whilst growing up, and even though locking himself up for two hundred years seems like a very regrettable action, he didn’t quite mind it. Japan’s biggest regret of his past was World War Two, much like Germany. While Germany’s biggest regret was the holocaust, Japan loathes everything that he had done during this time period, from invading China, who he fears will never forgive him for the mass slaughtering of his people, even though he has, and the way he had treated his own soldiers. Now that it’s modern times, Japan has changed his mindset on the way discipline should be, but back during the day, if anyone did anything dishonorable… He’d rather not bring it up, the images make him sick to the point of tears.

America: If you asked what America’s biggest regret was, he would say treating England so poorly during and after the Revolutionary war. Though, deep down, he knows that’s false. His colonization is what haunts him most. He knows that his existence came to be when European settlers came. There was another little boy living here before him, deep skin, red eyes, crooked smile and what America and his Big Brothers liked to call, “animalistic tendencies.” The land he now called his wasn’t his at all, it belonged to the little boy who ran through the fields and slung arrows at deer, turning their skins into coats and bones into weapons. He had killed the little boys entire being, starting at his family and moving onward to the point where everyone who looked like him… gone. He feels like it’s his fault, it was his existence that got the Natives killed, his doing that caused such a rich culture to die. And yes, while it technically was, he had still been pushed up to be seen as “America”, while the little boy in the fields had come to be known as his “second player.” They had never got along, which America understands, little by little had America and his bosses stolen and burned the land of his second player’s people, to the point where he only resided in little speckles across 4 million square miles. His second player even fought for the north during his civil war, which further made America seem as if everything he was doing as a nation was wrong. He almost willingly surrendered as the south then, due to the fact that his second player had mentioned torturing the people from Africa the way he had tortured him. He hates the way he treated people different than him in the past, and now, even though he’s still the white, European blended colony he was born as, by god he is putting as much time and effort into building museums to honor Native Americans, starting wildlife reserves to protect the animals his second player had so worshipped, and donating so much money to African-American activist groups. He wishes he could fix the mistakes of his past, even though the scar was still there and visible.

England: One half of him doesn’t regret it as much as he should, it’s what built him up to be a powerhouse, though on the other hand it makes him want to give every square inch of the land he has left to those he had colonized. Imperialism has broken England, and he curses the mere foundation of the British East India company. He despises every drop of blood he had gotten on his hands during his time as an Empire. He regrets letting America go so easily, only because he had richer, more obedient colonies to take care of. He would never let America know that he had given up on him, though he feels as if it would give the man a sense of pride. He has nightmares of storming into African tribes, spilling red on their multicolored clothes, their beads of ivory and dried nuts, their skin marked with ribbons. He hates the image of destroying something once so vivacious and wonderful, thousands of years of culture and humanity crushed under his boot because he wanted some more money to run his trains. He loathes what he did to India even more, taking everything they had away from them, making them pay full price for goods they could grow on their own, taxes higher than those in America, lining men up in rows just for speaking their mind- The images flash through his head every so often and it’s times like these where he needs to take a break. When he puts it into perspective, his empire wasn’t even something all that ancient. The last colony he gave up was in 1997, for god’s sake. He had pushed his imperialism up until modern times, he still had colonies when the internet existed, and for some reason, putting that into perspective makes him feel like a horrible nation. Those who forgive him have forgiven him, though he feels like he can’t do that much to help since imperialism is generally deemed irrelevant in the eyes of those today.

France: He was a greedy, selfish pig back in the day, is what France would say if you mentioned his past. While there are wars so ancient that run through his blood, they seem to have just become funny stories to tell when he’s drunk with his friends. Though, dare you mention his revolution, and he will break down. He had wished that he was siding along with the common folk during their protests, but he was in the palace with King Louis and Mary Antoinette. While he can say that “Let them eat cake” was definitely not a thing, images of plump, wealthy people gorging themselves then promptly shoving their fingers down their throat to eat more haunted him. Whilst the sons of starving mothers and children outside the palace rung in the echoes made him tear. His government had torn up, he had watched his bosses head roll to the floor, he had watched so many heads roll to the floor, even his own, on one occasion. He had been brutally threatened by mothers of children to give them food, an entire nation of once cultured people now tugging at their hair because he couldn’t provide them simple human necessities. He get sick thinking of how he had basically failed the most simple thing as a nation, letting you citizens live. Though this memory haunts him, he can say that he’s able to watch Les Mis just fine, though he cries for about an hour during the entire show.

China: China doesn’t have the same visions as westerners do. If America were to point out China’s biggest regret, he would say it was probably Mao Zedong and the communist revolution, while china would take offense, since Mao is the savior of his once collapsing nation. China’s biggest regret himself is his ethnocentric attitude when he was younger. When he first became a country, all the way up until his “teenage” years, he saw himself as the best, and only the best. He was surrounded by mountains, nobody could touch him. He was the land of beauty and refined culture, and the people on the outsides of the mountains were just sheer barbarians. So, when the Silk road was established for trading, China didn’t pay it much mind. It was impossible to pass through without being robbed or going missing in the Gobi desert, but when the Mongols arose and ran the trade route, trading became easier, ideas began to spread, and China found it very odd to sit there and watch all these strange barbaric attitudes enter his home. Especially Buddhism. He hated it, he remembers cringing upon hearing the name of it. Him, his boss, and the traditional, “pure” people of china were set out to stop the barbaric religion from spreading. There was so way he could let such a vile thing ruin his purity, his country overseen by heaven! All the people he had killed for such a closed minded attitude. He shakes his head thinking about it, for he had accepted Buddhist tradition himself. He finds it laughable when people say the Prussia is the most egotistical nation to ever live. It’s usually the young ones, he’ll muse, the ones who had no idea how brutal he was back in the day.

Russia:The fact that his entire plague has turned into a recent joke further haunts Russia to this day. If he could only tell people how sickening his time as the Soviet Union was, if only he could tell them the sheer terror that billowed off of Joseph Stalin and Vladimir Lenin like rip currents. He wished he could tell them the faces of the farmers that were slaughtered for not producing enough food, for the innocent people with faces that “looked threatening” and instantly marked as an enemy. He wishes he was strong enough to cry about his fears, but he was so beaten to the point where he himself became the replica of his boss, no longer the innocent Orthodox wonder that was built up, no longer shielded by the golden horde. He had become the terrorizing man that would bend somebody until they snapped if they gave him a wrong look. He knows that he cannot blame his own physical and mental abuse on the fact that he had physically and mentally abused others, especially Lithuania, but he can sure as hell apologize. Though, when Lithuania looks at him and flinches, the same Lithuania that had taken down Prussia and other powerhouse Germanic states, and stumbles over a quick, “It’s alright!”, he knows it isn’t. He wishes that he had never been so susceptible to his own trauma, that he could’ve gone on a track to gory like everyone else instead of a crash into years of financial, emotional, crippling hell.

He obtained this for the British museum trough entirely ethical methods. Obviously.

Off to school you lot!🌻

‘I watched empires rise and fall long before the first of your kingdoms crawled out of the dirt!’

- A.D. 1842 - @historical-hetalia-week day five…

The German States: Austria - Roderich

—————————————–

“And Bavaria’s brother is the one who you must be the most careful about. He is the only one who could challenge me for my right to raise you. He would steal you away from me at the first opportunity. He is  the only reason that I’ve kept your existence a secret for as long as I have.”

As Prussia paused again, Germany already knew who he was turning his attention to. He had a memory that might have been a dream. It was blurry and far away, but he remembered it none the less. It featured a dark haired man who was imposing in his presence rather than his stature. The figure told him that he would be going to war, and then the dream faded away.

He expected the name that Prussia was going to speak, and was hardly surprised when his brother continued, “I have known Austria since I was your age. I know him more intimately than any man alive, and yet I am not sure where to start.

Roderich is as prim as a peacock and just as vain. He cares about his fine clothing and his expensive jewels, and has always balked at the idea of dirtying them. His wealth has granted him the ability to dress as he pleases, and he makes no secret of it.

His position was given to him when he was quite young when the Habsburgs took possession of his land. When I was a knight he was already a lord. Though he is the younger brother, he was groomed for leadership.

I know that he has never known a day of hardship in his life. It is almost too kind to just call him spoiled. His world has always been full of power and privilege and he could never imagine what it is like to fight for those things.

While I would understand underestimating him based on his physique, make no mistake. He is dangerous.

He will never be the most threatening man on the battlefield, but in the halls of diplomacy he is the master. His power comes from centuries of prudent decisions and advantageous marriages. At one time his marriage to Spain secured him power in most of the continent.

He is an object lesson in the ways that power works. It is not always the strongest who prevails. Sometimes it is the clever and strategic mind that prevails.

I would like to think that I have learned that lesson well, and you should pay close heed. In this long game of ours I have finally secured a path to victory. Roderich is a worthy enemy, but I will win in the end.”

Habsburg VS Hohenzollern Round 1

Based on a personal HC of mine that Gilbert wasn’t exactly the confident little shit we all know and love after coming out of his Duchy years. Not to worry though - Reiner and the Hohenzollerns fixed that up real nice.

Weirdly tedious to draw and messy visualization of a thought I’ve been having and posted about on another blog:

Friedrich the Gay Great should just have the hots for no other than Francois Bonnefoy, the most beautiful man who ever lived. Gilbert as Friedrich’s kingdom and friend/watchdog is just done with him. Anyone else who can take the crown? Literally anyone else? Please?

Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes​ 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

“No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?”

“Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we’re gonna heard about them, one way or another!”

“So, let’s enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin’s pies are so delicious!”

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book. 

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm’s daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Smithson?” answered the woman with a gentle smile.

“What are you reading?”

“Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!”

“Okay… Wait, you understand French?”

She laughed.

“Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?”

“She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don’t be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group.”

“Of course!”

“By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?”

Keep reading

“… Do NOT tell anybody I said that,”

Sounds fun hehe

just some of my repeated songs atm !

1. Save Your tears - the weeknd

2. American - Lana del rey

3. Fell in luv - Playboi Carti

4. Make that cake - lunchmoney lewis ft doja cat

5. Medieval warfare - Grimes

6. Corso - Tyler the creator

7. Necklace - freddie dredd

8. stfu! - Rina sawayama

9. Play with it - Tommy genesis

10. Meat grinder - madvillian

Music Meme

Rules: list 10 songs you really like, each by a different artist, and then tag 10 people to do the same.

Thanks for tagging me, @sometimesimfandomtrash ❤️

I’m literally lifting these straight off my current ‘on repeat’ playlist on Spotify so these are all songs I’ve been listening to pretty much constantly of late. To be honest, there were 8 different Bleachers songs on it, but, as per the rules of the game, I could only choose one.

1) Want You Back - HAIM

2) Rollercoaster - Bleachers

3) Lying in Her Arms - Anderson East

4) Want for Anything - Ernest Ellis

5) Love You for a Long Time - Maggie Rogers

6) Speed Trap Town - Jason Isbell

7) Yes - McAlmont & Butler

8) Ain’t No Easy Way - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

9) What’s it Gonna Be? - Shura

10) White Flag - Joseph

I tag @fireladybuckley @foreverthemomfriend @oneawkwardcookie @mistmarauder @imwritesometimes @tulipintulle @fluffbyday-smutbynight @reyescarlos @kitkat0723 @evanesdust and anyone else who wants to play. No pressure on anyone who doesn’t!😘

Here’s a redraw of an old sketch I made from a few years ago, when I was geeking out about the formation of the post WW2 world order in the final years of the war. This is specifically inspired by the leaders of the “big 3” countries who led the Yalta conference in 1945, and who were famously champions (left to right respectively) of imperialism, capitalism, and communism. More excitingly, it’s cute to think the countries that these leaders represented imitating their bosses’ preferred modes of smoking tobacco products reflected their personalities, while coping with the stress and excitement of victory of war in sight – and trying to look fearless, inadvertently yet appropriately coming off looking truly evil.

diane forever

end of american isolationism 

Listen. I don’t care what your sexuality is if that scene in Inglorious Basterds when Eli Roth walks out with a baseball bat and bashes the nazi’s head in doesn’t make you come spontaneously, untouched, idk what to tell you

The Brush of Oblivion.

(Aldo Raine x Female!Reader)

For the lovely @tsukkimochi, really hope you enjoy ❤️❤️ sorry if this sucks, u wrote it pretty late. 💕💕

War wasn't a place where love could grow. It was ugly, filthy and whatever other synonym you could think of. Having to look over your shoulder all time, stress nawing at your stomach every time a police officer so much as looks at you. Love wasn't destined for a time like this.

Then why was it happening to Aldo? She was just another recruit, another set of hands to help with the war effort. She didn't even seem to notice him all that much really. (Y/n) (L/n) was a rather quiet person, almost as quiet as Stiglitz, though she spoke more than that killing machine ever did. Aldo, once he was aware of his own affections, he began to be a bit more...forward with (Y/n). She would in turn smile and just think he was being nice. The Lieutenant knew that there were oblivious people in this world, but my God, did (Y/n) take the cake.

"Lieutenant, with all do respect, I don't think she is really takin' the hint." Donny stated. He was seated next to Aldo, carefully cleaning his gun. Aldo sent him a death-like glare, making Donny avert his eyes with a laugh. "Ya don't say Donowitz. Ya don't say." Aldo grumbled, making Donny pat him on the back. He knew that Aldo was feeling down about the whole thing, but for some reason, seeing a man like Aldo sulking was hilarious. Donny would even joke about it to Omar, who was too afraid to say anything near the Lieutenant.

"I really don't get why you don't just tell her." Donny expressed. "You like her, she doesn't notice all the googly eyes your making at her, you have to tell (Y/n)." Donny stated. "Tell (Y/n) what?" Asked (Y/n), making both Donny and Aldo jump. Aldo cursed under his breath, glaring at Donny one more. Donny smirked and motioned him forward. "Yeah uh...listen, could we speak in private please?" Aldo requested. (Y/n) nodded. She pointed a finger to a farther part of the camp. "Is everything alright, Lieutenant?" (Y/n) inquired. "Yeah...it's just um…" Aldo stammered, something that literally never happens. "The Lieutenant likes you!" Donny yelled from the other end of the camp. (Y/n) gasped and Aldo noted to murder Donny when he has the chance. A bright blush appeared on her face, her (e/c) eyes never leaving Aldo. "I'm sorry bout' that but..what Donowitz said is true...I been in love with you for a while now." Aldo confessed. It felt good to get that off his chest.

"I...I don't know what to say...I thought you were just being nice, you know...with the compliments and all…"(Y/n) confessed. She wasn't naive, the dangers of pursuing something like love during this time...it was dangerous. "Well, I get it if ya don't feel the same." Aldo reasoned, even though it killed him to admit it. (Y/n) smiled. "I...love you too." She confessed. " I was just too scared to say it…"

Aldo Raine didn't believe in true happiness, to him, you only got what was given to you. But hearing her saw those words, he just might change his mind. A new reason for life was birthed that night, a reason that Aldo was ready to give his life for. One way, or the other.

@struggling-bee @jokersqueenofchaos @sergeant-donny-donowitz @aurelie34-43 @empress-writes @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @tsukkimochi

Bourbon High.

(Omar Ulmer x Female!Reader)

For the lovely @tsukkimochi really hope you enjoy this fic ❤️❤️

💗💗

"(Y/n) are you sure about this?" Omar asked as he exited his sleeping cot. (Y/n) smirked, patting him on the back as a means to comfort him. "Don't worry so much, we will be back before they even notice we're gone." (Y/n) reasoned, turning her back to him and beginning to walk slowly, avoiding any small twig and or stone that might cause noise. Omar sighed, before following in her steps.

Throughout their relationship, (Y/n) has always been the more daring one. Even before the war, she would be constantly chastised by her mother for putting herself and Omar in danger. Not that (Y/n) really cared for her words. The thrill was too great. She would never put anyone in danger on purpose, but sometimes, the trouble would find them. "Where the hell are we going anyway? Won't the enemy have swarmed every town in France by now?" Omar inquired. In hindsight, his question would have brought up concerns, but (Y/n) was prepared for that.

"From the last patrol report, there's still one more town that these fucks haven't taken over. Just so happens that this town has got the best drinks. Besides, if shit hits the fan, we got fake papers and you can just pretend you're mute." (Y/n) proposed, giggling when she saw Omar's expression. She would always tease him about his inability to learn languages. "Fine but as soon as we see one Kraut, we are leaving." Omar stated. (Y/n) grinned and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. "You're the best."

The two continued to walk until they reached the small town, which seemed to have a small festival of sorts. Beautiful lights were lit, their holders decorated with various flowers. It looked as if people were also dancing. Which made (Y/n) giddy. Omar smiled, he knew what a swinger his girl was. "We have to go and dance after we drink." (Y/n) suggested, still keeping a low voice. The town might not have been captured, but those weasels had eyes, basically everywhere. They couldn't risk being heard speaking English. Once the two entered the bar, (Y/n) ordered two bourbons, taking a seat next to Omar. Bourbon has always been a go to drink for them. It tasted amazing and the burn of the throat provided a high that few liquors could match. Apparently, they underestimated the high.

"Do you *hic* remember when the *hic* Lieutenant nearly fell over?" ( Y/n) asked. Omar clutched his stomach, letting out a bellowing laugh. "Stooooop!" He begged. The couple continued to have their fun, completely unaware that it was well over three AM. When they walked back, trying desperately to hold each other up, they still thought that no one would be awake. "Phew, thank God the Lieutenant ain't awake, huh?" Omar said with a grin, making (Y/n) nod excitedly. Just then, the camp lamp was lit up.

"Try that again, Ulmer." That southern twang in the voice made both of them stand at attention. There was Aldo, sitting on a tree stump, with a very displeased look on his face. "Explain. Now." He ordered. They had never heard him sound so serious. Omar began to shake and stumble on his words, while (Y/n) was trying to think of something to say. "W-we were with the Staff Sergeant sir!" (Y/n) stated, thinking it would work. Aldo raised an eyebrow, turning his finger to point to a passed out Donny near a tree. (Y/n) swore under her breath and Omar felt like he was gonna die. "Now how is our Sergeant passed out over there, while you two come here, last midnight, drunk as all hell? How the fuck does that work?" Aldo inquired, voice raising in anger, though he tried to avoid waking the others. Trust Aldo when he says you don't want to see a Hugo who has had his sleep disturbed.

"Do you two have any idea what danger ya'll could'a put us in? We're in enemy territory goddamnit!" Aldo stated. "Not only did you sneak out, you went and got drunk! Fucking great!" Aldo exclaimed. It wasn't that he was mad at them directly. He understood that sometimes, especially during times like these, people would need a little breather. But this was something else completely.

"Sir we-"

"I ain't finished (L/n)."

Aldo interrupted, effectively shutting (Y/n) up. The man sighed, his fingers squeezing his temple. " I don't need to worry about you two acting like fuckin' kids! Who's idea was it?" Aldo asked. Omar and (Y/n) looked at each other, Omar opening his mouth to speak when (Y/n) jumped in. "It was my idea, sir. We were just trying to have fun and I dragged Omar-" (Y/n) stammered, before she was interrupted. A pair of strong hands dragged them both into a bear-like hug. To say that they were confused would be an understatement. "Um...sir?" Omar asked. Aldo sighed and pulled away, his hands remained on both of their shoulders.

"You two had me scared half to death... I promised I'd get ya home, didn't I?"

The two looked down, feeling guilty. "We are sorry, sir. It won't happen again."Omar stated and (Y/n) seconded that. Aldo smirked, before a strong yawn broke through. "Good, I accept both of your apologies but you will be punished accordingly for it." Aldo announced with a grin, making (Y/n) and Omar both groan. Aldo patted them on their backs. "Go on, off to bed and if I catch you again, I swear on my momma lll whoop both ya' asses. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

(Y/n) and Omar returned to his sleeping cot, Omar still shaking a little. They huddled close, Omar placing a hand over her. "I am never following you anywhere again." Omar stated. (Y/n) laughed, placing a kiss on his jaw. " Whatever you say, sweetheart." She said, drifting in drunk sleep. Omar smiled. Despite the inevitable hangover tomorrow, Omar was thankful for the time he got to spend with you. It was through you that he figured out what love was...and that you should never underestimate bourbon.

@jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @empress-writes @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @tsukkimochi @jokersqueenofchaos @aurelie34-43 @sergeant-donny-donowitz @struggling-bee

Long Odds (OmarUlmerxFem!Reader)

Requested by @mylovelyreblogs​

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​ @frozenhuntress67​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! :)

Donny set his beer down on the pub counter, and smirked, “Five hundred francs.” Hirschberg rolled his eyes, “What is that? Like ten bucks?” “Yeah, but we’re in France…so five hundred francs. Take it or leave it.” Hirschberg snickered, “Aint'cha got somethin’…luckier than that?” Donny sneered as he muttered under his breath, “Fucken lucky, I’ll show you lucky.” He set his lucky baseball card on the counter. Rare, 1939 Teddy Williams baseball card. Autographed. Omar raised his eyebrow, and grinned, “Goin’ all in, huh?” Donny smirked, “Might as well. I’m the one that needs the least luck here.” They all grumbled as the betting went on. They were betting on something…well…odd, to say the least. You were a basterd, and a friendly one, too. Friendly with all of them.  As a matter of fact, you’d gotten a laugh or two out of Hugo, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. As much as they hated to admit, each of the boys had a thing for you at some point or other.

They looked back to the other side of the pub, where you were dancing with anyone and everyone that so much as looked  in your direction…. Boy was it a sight that would never fade away from anyone’s memory. You were one of a kind basterd…but a basterd no less. Still, you were more than anyone of them could have ever bargained for. Especially Omar. To him, you were more than he could ever say. You were what they’d all dreamed of having by their side once they got home… But goddamn was it a perk having you there by their side in the war, where it mattered most. Where it was rough having friends, but…none of them would have it any other way. Now…they were all betting who you’d be “friendliest” with in the end… And looked down the counter, “Aldo?” He rolled his eyes, set his whiskey down with a clunk, and crossed his arms, and muttered, “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit…” He cleared his throat, “And I respect Y/n too much to just bet on th-” Donny smirked, “You’re scared, huh?” Smitty snickered,  "You scared you’ll lose, lieutenant?“ Aldo narrowed his eyes as he looked at his men, ”Lose?“

Hirschberg nodded, "You don’t got it, old man.” “Old man?! Old man?! Wicki’s the oldest.” Smitty nodded in agreement, “Oh yeah…Wicki’s older.” “Shaddap Uti.” Donny raised an eyebrow….If he was in danger of losing his Teddy fucking Williams baseball card, he wasn’t letting anyone get away with less than that. All or nothing. “Neat stash of tobaacco there, sir… Y/n’s always sayin’ that stuff aint no good for you. ‘Specially if you’re gettin’ up there in your years-” Aldo rolled his eyes, “Alright, alright. I’m in.” He slammed his tin of snuff on the table, next to the card, the francs, and the mementos everyone was willing to bet.

“Omar.” The last one to enter the bet. And frankly, not the one most of the boys were worried about. With him, it was a long shot. …Even if they wouldn’t advise him (or Smitty, or even Wicki) to join in on the bet, he had something they all wanted. One impressive hoarde of chocolate. He knew that was what they wanted from him. And he was confident… He wasn’t very good at holding  a poker face, but frankly most of the boys were pretty dense as to why he was smirking, “Alright. Hersheys. I’m in." 

"Everyone quiet!” Hirschberg spotted you coming toward them, and they all scrambled to hide their wagers. “Hey, why’s everyone so quiet?” You stood at the end of the counter, after dancing for what seemed like an eternity, but not quite done for the night. The tavern’s band was taking a short break. And you just needed to cool off a little. Aldo knew that, and held up a glass of whiskey on the rocks. The most refreshing thing he could think of. “Y/n?” You smiled a little as you caught your breath, “Ya know that brunette back there keeps eyeing you, sir?” “What?” You smiled, and gestured back to the dancing youth, “There.” “O…oh..well…” You smiled, “Maybe save that drink, huh?” “I-” A little way down the counter, Omar lifted a different glass. Cognac. Which is all you liked to drink. Which he knew. Hugo, thinking you had to be at least a  little tired out, and noting the band had been playing some slower songs earlier, he figured, he might as well give it a shot. “Y/n….” You looked to him, with a naive, sincere smile, “Yeah?” All he had to say was “Dance?” And you nodded, “You got it!” You smiled at him, and turned to get to Omar. So…the basterds watched as you passed Aldo by, and somehow Omar and Hugo seemed to gain favor… Minutes later, after finishing that cognac from Omar, you were back on the dance floor…and Aldo withdrew from the bet, seeing that the brunette on the dance floor had a thing for the Tennessee man. He swung by the bar with her, and passed by the basterds. She was clinging to him, and looking up at him dreamily, passing a lit cigar to him. He held it up, eyed his tin of snuff, and sighed. “Men.” They all stood waiting, as if he’d give an order. He smirked a little, knowing he’d get snuff some way or another, “I fold.” And he was off, with his new acquaintance. With one less basterd in the race, the stakes were raised higher. “Five hundred and fifty francs!” Donny held his poker face…he had to. Frankly, that was all the francs he had to offer. Smitty looked on as you danced the night away, “Y/n likes music, right?” Omar chuckled, “Oh she does, Einstein?” “Look.” Smitty narrowed his eyes, and Omar rolled his, and smiled “Y/n don’t care what music plays, Smitty. She’ll dance to anything.” Donny laughed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. It made him happy to see you happy. Frankly, he didn’t really care who won the bet, as long as you were happy. He only bet to begin with because…well he’s Donny Donowitz. He’s just competitive. And impulsive…and regretted betting his lucky card. Still, he smiled with a sigh, “Ain’t that the truth.” He took a drink and looked back at the counter. His competitive instinct kicked in. He grinned, as he nudged Hugo, and looked on to the dance floor, “Y'know what Y/n really likes dancin’ to, Hugo?” Hugo raised his eyebrow as the band came back. Hearing the blaring, wild trumpet beginning to play, as you looked back at them from the edge of the dancing crowd, waiting for your dance partner, His eyes widened as you gestured to him… Hirschberg taunted him too, leaning over the bar, and snickering “That’s right. Ragin’ wild swing.” He looked back at Wicki, as if asking for help for the first time in his life. Wicki shrugged as he sipped some bourbon. “You aready asked her to dance. Might not be the best time to disappoint her, kumpel.” Utivich laughed, “Her? Don’t dissapoint us!” He pushed Hugo off his stool, and toward the dance floor. He grimaced, and looked as if he was about ready to snarl at them like a rabid animal… 

Just then, you walked out from the dancefloor, and took his hands, and pulled him toward the crowd, your laugh like a beacon in a stormy night, pulling a smile from him.

“Damn can she do the goddamn charleston!” Donny chuckled, looking on. Omar narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out where Hugo had gone.  "L-Is that Hugo?!“ "Y-Yeah….” “Damn look at him go!”

The basterds laughed and started cheering for him, until he stumbled a little, and fell. “Look at him go!” Wicki smiled, as you came back to them, your laugh was like a song to him. Laugh! That was it! He tried to capture that light in your gleaming eyes in the milisecond before your laugh rang like a mermaid’s song. A joke or two would do it… Except he stumbled on the punchline. There was a lot on the line, after all. And the boys laughed at him and his mistakes. Omar chuckled, “Careful boys, you’ll break an old man’s heart.” Wicki rolled his eyes, and the jeering went on, Hirschberg smirked, “Might be having a stroke.” You rolled your eyes, though you could hardly contain your guity smile as you punched Hirschberg’s shoulder, “Oh, you’re so mean!” He looked up at you, and caught sight of that hidden grin, and felt at ease with himself for a moment. He’d made you smile…that was a start. But it wasn’t much. Omar knew that, as he smirked and took a sip of his beer. 

You could read a room. Better yet, you knew each of the basterds inside out, and knew something was up. You weren’t blind either, so you had a pretty good idea at what was happening. You were killer at war, but a heartbreaker at nature. All it took to throw Hirschberg off his game, and blow everyone else’s egos to bits was to wink at him. One little wink.| Omar hid his smirk again as he raised his beer to his lips, and raised his head back, dousing his retained laugh with the rich, bitter, cool beer as he shot you a knowing, loving glance.

************ “Y'know…I think…I thinkn y/n’s on to us…” Hirschberg sighed as  he loked down at the crumpled, orange and red leaves as he marched with Donny, Omar, and Smitty to a rendezvous point. You had gone with the rest of the basterds to a somewhat distant town for supplies, and they were meeting you at  a hideout that was roughly the halfway point. The rest of the boys were discussing their progress in the wager, and Hirschberg was a little unsettled. Donny sighed as he stretched out his arms, “Oh yeah? What makes ya say that?” Hirschberg grumbled a little then admitted, “Made my move…and she wasn’t havin’ none of it. Got far enough to try and sneak in a little kiss.” Omar, who had been splashing some water from a creek onto his face, stopped. He looked up, still facing away from them to hide his cheeky grin, “Yeah? How’d that go?” He knew you. He knew you’d always be true. You’d told him so, once, long ago. And he believed you. Still, he couldn’t help but sigh a little, remembering the soft, secret touch of your lips. Sure enough, your lips were often cracked by the carelessness of war and winter, but still the best kiss a soldier like him could ever ask for.

Hirschberg wouldn’t know. And that’s what made Omar smirk. “She slap you?” Smitty couldn’t help but laugh a little, and Donny suggested, “Punch ya?…Can’t blame her. Wouldn’t want a face like yours near me either.” Hirschberg rolled his eyes, “No! She….she put her fingers…on my lips, goddamn it!” Omar smirked as he walked by him, patting him on the back, “Well, looks like you’re losin’ you’re luger.” “Yeah, yeah…” He sighed, wondering in defeat if he’d really lose his luger, “Then she said. She looks at me with those eyes, y'know…those fucken eyes…” Omar nodded with a sigh, looking up at the sky, as if he could see them, “Yeah…I know those eyes…” The boys didn’t quite catch that air of sincerity in his voice. That trace of love, that hint of reminiscence Omar’s dreamy daze was interrupted by Hirschberg’s brash voice, “And ya know what she says? She pushed me back, see. And she says to me, 'Hirsch, you gon’ tell me what this is all about or not?’ ”

Donny gasped, almost in disbeleif, like he was hearing gossip in a salon, “No!”

Hirschberg replied in the near same tone, “Yes!” Smitty shook his head, “Well what’d you say?!” “I said no, that’s what I fucken said!” Smitty rolled his eyes in exasperation, “So you admitted there was something going on!?” “No, didn’t you hear, I said no?!” Smitty sighed, “No. You said no, you wouldn’t tell her what was happening, not no there was nothing happening.” Hirschberg frowned, and opened his mouth to respond… Then quickly realized Smitty’s point, shrugged, took a puff from his cigarette, and sighed, “Guess I did…” As the boys marched on, Donny spotted something poking through Smitty’s jacket. “Whatcha got there, kid?” “A book.” “Aw, yeah? What kinda book?” Donny smirked at Omar and Hirschberg, and nudged Smitty. Smitty pulled it out of his jacket. The cover read “Le Petit Prince.” A story born and banned in France. Nevertheless, there it was, in his hands, wishing to find yours. “Ya know Y/n can’t read French, right?” And in that moment, his heart broke into a million pieces. He wasn’t in it for the wager, or even to win your heart. To him, you’d always be like a shining star, across the universe. He’d always hope to see you, but he’d never be close enough. He loved you like a friend could, from the moment he figured that out. He knew love was much like war, not something to be toyed with or bet on. It was far beyond his hands. He loved you, but not in the way you deserved, so he stepped down… He’d confided that to Omar, still not knowing the truth. And Omar had listened with a sigh, knowing you loved Smitty, like you loved all the other basterds. As brothers. But Smitty was, well, the youngest, and so you thought of him as a sort of baby brother. So Omar helped Smitty find that book. Did it nearly cost them an arm and a leg (literally)? Yes. Would either of them ever tell you? No. So Omar’s heart sank when he caught that defeated look in Smitty’s eyes, and stepped up. “She’s got a French dictionairy, y'know she’s learnin’. And…it’s the thought that counts, kid. Chin up.” Smitty smiled a little, and stopped for a moment, as Omar turned back around and kept marching with the others.  Smitty looked up ahead, knowing you were somewhere out there, and he was more excited than evere to give you that book. After a few moments of silence, something started picking at Donny. “Omar.” “Yeah, sarge?” “How the hell are you still so confident about this?” Hirschberg, Smitty, and Donny then stopped in ther tracks to look at Omar, and wait for an answer. Omar was the only basterd that had never had a steady relationship before. Hell, Smitty might’ve been the youngest, but even he had a high school sweetheart at some point. Hirschberg nodded, “Yeah you ain’t even made your first move yet!” Donny sighed, having made more moves than he’d ever had to before, “Yeah you should do sometin’ quick, Ulmer. You ain’t got any idea what you’re getting yourself into with that girl. It’s fucking impossible.” Omar shrugged, “Well…we did go through boot camp together.” As a matter of fact, that was where it all started. Sneaking out of your bunks in the middle of the night, and roaming around under the stars, jsut talking. “And we spent our fair share of time together.” This was the first time you’d been split up… And he failed to define 'together’. He shrugged, “I know a little more about her than you think.”

Hirschberg crossed his arms and remarked, “That right?” “Yeah… She likes a good show. Action pictures, that sort of thing.” Donny raised his eyebrow with a grin,“Action pictures, huh?” A few hours later, after ambushing a nazi outfit nearby, Donny was swinging with his bat, “Y/n likes action movies, right?” Omar smirked a little, “Give her a real show, Donny. Knock 'em dead.” Donny smirked a little, and walked into the tunnel, already riled up.

And, after some intimidation and interrogation, Aldo called Donny out. And Donny did put his all into it… He really was the closest thing the basterds had to seeing a movie. 

And at the end of it, as Werner lay dead, and his private gave Aldo all the information he needed, Donny looked across the fort to you, with smouldering, smirking eyes, and a sly grin. His eyes fell on you, your basterd grin, and laughing eyes, and moved down, and saw your hand. Your hand, resting on a stone. With Omar’s hand resting on yours. “No…” His eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped open. The other basterds’ eyes followed his, because if something left the Bear Jew speechless, it was something worth looking at. And indeed, it was. Because they all saw what he did. Omar smirking, his raised eyebrow, pulling his arm around your shoulders, and kissing you. What’s more…they’d all just lost a bet. In fact, they’d lost the moment they even put their wagers on the table. Then, a million questions went back and forth. “WHAT?!” being the most common. Followed by “WHEN?!?!?!” and, of course, “HOW!?!?!?!” To which Omar responded, “Learned a lot more than you think in basic training. Y/n’s been by my side since then. Made it official just before we left England.” You laughed a little, “We didn’t know we’d be leaving together.” You didn’t know you were both being sent to the basterds. Hirschberg smirked. “So ya can do somethin’ right, huh Omar” Aldo chuckled a little,  "Say, y/n that how  ya get him to shut his mouth every once in a while? Ya learn that trick in basic training too?“ You blushed a little, "More or less, Aldo.” Omar smiled as he looked at you, the basterds saving their grumbling about their gambling for later, for your sake. Still…Hirschberg slipped up and said “Some fucken bet…” Then, it all made sense to you. A bet…. The other basterds never had a chance to start with. They were betting blind. Omar though, he took a gamble of long odds when he met you. He bet it all on you again that night in the pub. It wasn’t just his chocolate stash, it was his love, his pride, his heart. That was clear to everyone from that moment. But you didn’t understand why. You spoke softly, a way only Omar ever heard you speak before, and you asked him, “Why?” He smiled. “Because I trusted you. I knew my odds, they were always on my side. Like you.” You shut your eyes, feeling like a fool, and giving a small, amused smile. Loving someone during war was always a wager with death, with odds that weren’t in your favor. But loving a basterd… Loving Omar Ulmer… Now that was a chance you were willing to take, from the moment you first laid eyes on him. He didn’t know that. He’d played a game of fortune and heartbreak, once, and won. And he’d be willing to bet it all again, for you, and only you.

I love me some Inglorious Basterds so lemme make a meme of that masterpiece 👀👀👀

Regardless of gender or race or political stand，deep in our heart we share a common treasure called suffering🌞

“Flouted as a father and as a statesman, he [Frederick William] treated his son (Frederick the Great] so ill as to lend colour to the suspicion that he wished him dead. Not content with impounding his books, forbidding him the flute, compelling him to see his mother by stealth, the tyrant actually rained blows on him in public, even in the camp of the Saxon King. “Had I been so treated by my father,” he is said to have exclaimed, “I would have blown by brains out, but this fellow has no honour.”

Unfortunately for Frederick William, the youth whom he thus outraged was Crown Prince of Prussia, and as such by no means lacked friends. To England, to Austria, and to his father’s ministers he was an important pawn in the game of politics. Some of the younger officers lent him countenance in the hope of favours to come. but the dearest friend of his life, Lieutenant von Katte, loved him to what he might be able to bestow. To Katte the prince confided his fixed purpose to flee from a tyranny that was past endurance. 

— W.F. Reddaway, Frederick the Great and the Rise of Prussia (1904)

(images: Frederick the Great on the left, Lieutenant von Katte on the right, and on the bottom is an illustration of the two of them strolling together)

Poster Remake | [Inglourious Basterds - V. 2] - asked by (sorry I forgot who wanted this version)