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justheretobreakthings · 4 years ago

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Whumpmas in July: Day 9

@whumpmasinjuly

“Look at me.”

Read on AO3 My house, my rules, my ko-fi

Even through his paladin armor, the fire was far too hot. Shiro could swear he could feel the flames of the burning walls licking against his skin as he raced by them, and was certain he would be covered in blisters by the time he got back to the castle. His helmet – especially the crackling in his ear reminding him that the comm hadn’t been working since they’d entered Viuter’s atmosphere and would be no help to him now – was irritating him, making him feel trapped and claustrophobic and plastering his sweaty hair against his skull and preventing him from wiping his bangs out of his eyes. Still, it was protection, enough protection to keep him upright and moving, and even though smoke clouded his line of sight, the visor of his helmet kept it out of his eyes, and the oxygen actuator mostly kept him from breathing in the ash.

Which meant Keith’s armor was giving him that same protection. Which meant he was fine. Wherever he was.

Keith shouldn’t have been in the building in the first place. He’d been blocks away when the explosion had occurred, the paladins all having separated to confer with different members of the Viuteran council. It had made sense, getting more done in less time and everyone getting to stick to their specialties, and it had resulted in Keith being all the way in the infantry armory building at the time of the blast. Shiro, though, had been right near the explosion, in the next building over where he and Allura were meeting with a group of military strategists. As he’d been wearing armor and Allura hadn’t, it was only natural that Shiro was the one to take the initiative of running into the building and taking charge of evacuating as many Viuterans as he could.

Sure, it would have been better if the comms had been working and the paladins could all coordinate together, but that wasn’t really any more than a flickering and quickly dismissed thought in Shiro’s mind. He would focus on rescue now, find his teammates when he was done.

It took longer than he would have liked to reach the point when he could look for them, but it came eventually. Once the building was deeply engulfed in flames and there was too much risk of it collapsing in on itself for it to be safe for Shiro to go back in and keep up the rescue efforts. He handed off an unconscious Viuteran to an emergency worker and looked around to find himself in the midst of a dizzying scene. Sirens were wailing, soldiers and civilians alike were running amok, some trying to escape, some trying to help contain the spreading fire. And all of it cast in an eerie red, the thick smoke in the sky blocking out all light except for that of the fire.

Pidge was the paladin he spotted, her green armor sticking out boldly against all the red and gray, and her face flooded with relief when spotted him approaching. “Oh thank fuck!” she cried, rushing to meet him. “When Allura said you were in there I – I didn’t know if – God, kept hoping the comms would magically start working and I could make sure you were – ”

“Is Allura okay?” Shiro hated to interrupt, but now that he’d found one of his teammates, he was more than eager to find the rest, make sure everyone was okay.

“Right, right, follow me,” Pidge said, and she hurried to lead the way, winding through the chaos. “Allura’s this way, they’ve got first aid stuff going so that was the first place I looked, to see who was hurt. Lance and Coran – they left ages ago. Before this bomb, apparently a different one went off on the other side of the city. Like, one minute difference. My guess is they were planned to go off at the same time, but they weren’t coordinated quite right. Anyway, they went to get Blue and they were heading that way, so I don’t know when they’re gonna be – ”

“Shiro! Shiro, you’re okay!” A voice cut across Pidge’s rapid speech as they approached what appeared to be a makeshift triage center in the square, and Shiro turned to see Hunk clambering in their direction as fast as the armful of medical supplies he was carrying would allow. Behind him, Allura looked up from where she had been bent over an injured Viuteran, her glowing hands pressed against his leg. Relief washed over her face, and she started in their direction too the moment she had finished.

Shiro nodded in acknowledgment to Hunk. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Hunk asked. “You’re not hurt at all? Your armor’s looking kinda beat up, you might be hurt and not even realize it because of adrenaline! Do you feel dizzy at all? Do you need water? Do you need to sit down?”

“Hunk, I’m fine, really,” Shiro reassured him, turning his attention to Allura as she joined them. “How’s everything holding up here?”

“As well as we can hope for,” Allura said. “Everyone’s been too busy trying to get people to safety to investigate, so I don’t know where the bombs were, who may have been behind it, what the intent was – I take Keith was able to reach you? Where is he now?”

Shiro frowned. “What?”

“I thought – surely by now he would’ve – ”

“Allura,” Shiro said, voice tight. “What do you mean? Where’s Keith?”

“He was here, but he – I told him where you’d gone, and he took off, didn’t even let me finish the sentence. I thought he was going to help you with the evacuation.”

Keith had gone after him. Shiro had gone into the heart of the fire, and Keith had followed him in, and he hadn’t even realized. It hadn’t even occurred to him until Allura mentioned his name that he hadn’t yet seen Keith anywhere, but now…

Shit.

“I’m going after him,” he said, turning on his heel.

“What?” Pidge said. “Hang on, you think he’s still looking for you in there?”

“I know he is.”

“Wait, Shiro,” Allura said, “It’s certainly not safe! Surely Keith would have had the sense to get out of there by this point, we ought to – ”

“No.” Shiro shook his head. “No, he’s – I gotta get him. I’ll meet you all here when I’ve found him.”

One of them called his name again, as he took off running, but he ignored it. All his focus was on moving forward, his feet pounding the ground as he raced faster than he could ever remember having moved in his life, back toward the flames.

In any other circumstances, Shiro would agree that, yes, Keith had the sense to get out. He could be rash and stubborn and even foolish at times, but Shiro at least liked to think that Keith had been getting better about knowing when it was better to retreat than to dive headlong into danger. His failed battle with Zarkon, at least, had knocked that lesson into his head.

But he knew Keith, and more importantly, he knew Keith’s past. As little as Keith liked to open up about his life, he had at least let Shiro in on a bit about his dad. And how he’d lost him. Shiro had seen the look in Keith’s face whenever his dad had come up, the emptiness and desolation when he’d explained how that fire had taken him.

And he had seen the desperation and determination in his little brother’s eyes whenever Keith made it clear that he couldn’t go through a loss like that again. Whenever he insisted that he’d never have to take on the role of team leader because Shiro wasn’t going anywhere. He’d heard about Keith’s expulsion from the Garrison, the explosive lengths he went to in order to get Shiro out to his shack.

When it came to family – when it came to Shiro – all logic and reason was out the window.

And now Keith might very well meet his end because of it.

Making his way through the burning building required him to shut out all of his natural instincts pointing him to safety, screaming at him to get out of there before he wound up seriously hurt, or worse. He had to turn on the shade of his visor to keep the brightness of the flames from blinding him, and even then it was hard to be certain where he was going. Halls were blocked by burning debris, pieces of the building falling around him and some coming dangerously close to taking him out with them. Shiro jetpacked through a singed hole in the ceiling when the hall behind him folded in on itself, blocking his route to the main entrance, and every step on the second floor was accompanied by creaks and crackles that had him bracing himself to fall right through at any second.

Still, he kept going. Pushing through the heat and the sparks and the roar of the flames, yelling Keith’s name over the noise and through the billowing smoke. None of that was important. All that mattered was finding Keith.

He had to find Keith. Had to find him. Had to find him. Had to –

A crack sounded above him, and around the corner and along the hall, flaming shards of ceiling toppled down, and that’s when he spotted it: the distinct blue light that accompanied a shield activating from a paladin’s armor.

Keith. Ducked under his shield, fire and rubble tumbling around him, the red and white of his suit gray with ash. Alive, and moving, and okay.

He was okay.

Shiro dived into the wreck, knocking falling debris aside with his sword hand and, voice breaking in sheer release, shouting out, “Keith!”

Keith’s head shot up at the sound of his name, and although for a brief moment he stumbled from the battering against his shield, there was no mistaking the way his exhausted eyes widened the moment he spotted Shiro across the hall, as if he were seeing a ghost, only for his face to light up in stunned relief.

He may have shouted something in reply that was drowned out by the fire raging around them, or he may have sprung up from his crouch without a word. Either way, Shiro got no warning before Keith was practically flying across the hall to tackle him in a hug.

Shiro stumbled back, startled. It wasn’t as though hugging was completely out of Keith’s character – once he knew and trusted the person giving them, he practically reveled in them – but he was never the one to initiate the embrace. A means of preemptively shielding himself from being turned away, perhaps; a fear that the gesture may be misinterpreted, may be mistaken as something romantic or even sexual; maybe simply a matter of making sure he never set off any discomfort related to touch that Keith was often prone to himself. Shiro had never known for certain which was the case, but it all made Keith a distinctly non-touchy person. Even when they had first been reunited after Shiro’s disastrous return from Kerberos, Keith hadn’t hugged him with this much fervor.

It all spoke to just how terrified Keith had been, how desperately he’d been searching for Shiro. The embrace was a grounding one. He was pressing himself so firmly against Shiro, gripping his brother so tightly. As though reassuring himself that Shiro was really there. Like if he dared to let go, Shiro would vanish back into the smoke and flame.

“Hey,” Shiro said, trying to keep his voice soothing despite needing to practically shout to ensure he could be heard, arm wrapping around Keith’s trembling back. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“I thought – ” Keith choked out through his helmet’s speaker. “Allura said – she said you – you’d gone into – into – ”

“I know. I know.”

“You went into the fire. Shiro, you went into the fire, I thought you – I was going to lose you, I had to find you, I couldn’t – I couldn’t just let – ”

“It’s all right, Keith, I promise. I’m okay.”

“You could’ve died! You almost died, you almost burned up and never said goodbye, I thought you were dead, I – ”

“Hey. Keith. Look at me.” Keith kept his face buried in Shiro’s chest, so he pulled back to hold him by the shoulders. “Look at me, okay? I’m right here, see? I’m not dying on you yet. Swear it.”

“Y-yeah. I see you.” His voice shook, and this close up, Shiro could see the redness of his face, the way his eyes seemed to be struggling to stay focused. As hot-blooded as Keith ran, even he was susceptible to fire like this. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m – I was just…”

“Scared?” Shiro finished for him, and Keith nodded weakly. “That’s okay. I get it. And hey, you found me. You found me, I’m here, and we’re okay. And now – ” A crackling sounded from above, and Shiro yanked Keith aside without a second thought, throwing up a shield as a beam collapsed right where the latter had been standing, showering the two of them in sparks. “Now we gotta get outta here, okay? We gotta run.”

“Yeah.” Keith took a trembling breath and straightened as Shiro let his shield fizzle away. “Got it, let’s go. Just – ” Shiro looked down to see Keith’s gloved hand wrapping around the gauntlet of Shiro’s armor. “No splitting up. Please.”

Shiro smiled. “Deal. We won’t let each other out of our sights. Come on.”

He activated his sword hand, and beside him, Keith did the same with his shield. Ready to race back through the flames, side by side.

#whumpmasinjuly #vldgen #shiro #keith #vld fic #my writing #fic: through the fire and flames

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crystalelemental · 4 years ago

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Eirika: “Alright, listen up! We, as the winners of Brave alts, must now discuss division of the weapon colors! No two units can share, and we have to get this figured out!”

Gatekeeper: “Greetings, everyone! Nothing to report!”

Marth, crying: “How did I lose to a meme?!”

Marianne: “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t deserve this.”

Eirika, under her breath: “Oooooh gods…”

Eirika: “Okay, listen. No one’s happy about this. We’re just going to have to do the best we can to make this work. One red, one blue, one green, one colorless. We have to figure this out as best we can, okay? Anyone want to get a point of discussion rolling?”

Marth: “I call sword! It’s iconic, like me, the mascot the multiverse!”

Eirika: “The hell do you mean ‘mascot of the multiverse?’”

Marth: “I was here first so I am the most important of all!”

Eirika: “Uh-huh. Anyone have objections to Marth taking sword?”

Marianne: “Well, I wasn’t sure what to take, but I was thinking I could use a sword. Since my relic weapon is a sword. And I think people would really like a sword cavalier, since there aren’t many of them.”

Eirika: “Alright, Marianne contests the sword.”

Marth: “No! You can’t take this from me too! It’s all I have left!”

Marianne: “Oh! I-I’m so sorry, forget I said anything…”

Eirika: “Complaint withdrawn. Any other contesting for the sword?”

Gatekeeper: “Nothing to report!”

Eirika: “Then the motion passes, and Marth will take sword.”

Marth: “Yes!”

Eirika: “That leaves blue, green, and colorless. Any takers?”

Gatekeeper, raising his lance: “Greetings!”

Eirika: “Okay. Marianne, any opposition?”

Marianne: “I was thinking about blue, based on the holy magic.”

Eirika: “Yes, but that can be Green too, so you have to decide which one you want.”

Marianne: “Um...well, what about you?”

Eirika: “I’m not taking blue. If you want it you can have it.”

Marianne: “Um...I think I’ll be okay. He can have that. If he wants.”

Eirika: “Very well. Uncontested, Gatekeeper will take Blue as a lance unit.”

Gatekeeper, raising his lance: “Nothing to report!”

Eirika: “That leaves you and me for Green and Colorless, Marianne.”

Marianne: “Oh, well...I don’t really feel like it’s my decision, so...why don’t you pick first?”

Eirika: “Well, Latona and Excalibur are the only sacred twins left from Magvel not in use. Which are Colorless and Green respectively. So I could go either way. But unfortunately, that’s not how this works. Much as I hate to admit it, you outrank me, so you get first pick.”

Marianne: “Then...maybe I can take Green magic...”

Eirika: *shaking her head ominously*

Marianne: “U-um, no, maybe Colorless is better? I am a healer, after all.”

Eirika: “That’s a fair pick. Then I can take Green. I wonder if Ephraim will give me Garm…”

Marianne: “If you had a preference, you should have just said so…”

Eirika: “Hey, you beat me, fair and square, right? That means you get first pick, and what matters is that it was your choice, right?”

Marianne: “I-I’m sorry…”

Eirika: “So there we go. Marth red, Gatekeeper blue, Marianne colorless, me green. We’ll submit our preferences and hope for the best.”

Marth: “Wait, it’s not guaranteed?!”

Eirika: “Of course not. Concessions have to be made. The first CYL, everyone wanted sword. It was a disaster, and no one came out of that one happy. But you outrank Marianne and I, so you likely get first pick.”

Marianne: “Well, not always. CYL1 did prove they do give priority to lower ranked options as needed.”

Marth: “But...my sword...”

Eirika: “Look, I don’t want it. I can use magic and staves, and am dead last. I’m not going to be sword.”

Marianne: “And I have Blutgang for sword, holy magic that can be blue or green, and healing for colorless. I could be anything, and there are two people who mainly use swords. I don’t think they would give it to me over you, especially when you outrank me.”

Marth: “That is true...okay, that’s a reli-wait. What do you mean you don’t want it?”

Eirika: “Why would I ever voluntarily make myself the worst of the four?”

Marth: “What does that mean?!”

Eirika: “Sword always sucks, and you will also suck.”

Marth: “That’s not true! You’re lying!”

Eirika: “Marth, let me level with you. You’re going to be the billionth sword infantry unit in the game. There will be almost nothing you could do that sets you apart, especially since Alm exists with a Falchion variant, sealing the dragonslayer focus. And he was the worst of his batch by far. Worse, he’s up for a refine just before our Braves arrive. Not to mention you came in second, so you don’t even get a unique skill to help you stand out like he did. You’re dead on arrival, dude.”

Marth: “You...you cheated! You tricked me into take sword!”

Eirika: “Sure did! Tough shit, loser.”

Marth, crying: “You’ll see! I’m gonna get a super good Falchion that will totally make me unique and work well, and then you’ll be sorry!”

Alm, also crying: “You tell them, Marth!”

Eirika: “Who the hell let you in here?! Who was supposed to be guarding the door?!”

Gatekeeper: “Nothing to report!”

Eirika: “I shouldn’t be surprised...”

Marianne: “Well, I don’t know how strong I’ll be, but I’ll do my best.”

Eirika: “As long as you take Colorless, you’re fine. Colorless is always the best.”

Marth: “It’s not that good!”

Eirika: “Oh yeah, it only had Lyn and Veronica, two of the most dominant units of their era.”

Marth: “Just because it used to be the best doesn’t mean it is anymore!”

Eirika: “Right, like Camilla didn’t get the best kit of CYL3, and Claude didn’t get the most future-proofed kit. Colorless is always the best and she will be too.”

Marianne: “Wow...thank you, Eirika.”

Eirika: “It’s just the truth. As long as you take Colorless and stay away from my Green alt!”

Marianne: “U-Understood!”

Gatekeeper, raising hand: “Greetings?”

Eirika: “No, blue sucks, and you’ll suck.”

Dimitri: “I don’t know about that. Blue has worked well for me.”

Eirika: “Seriously, stop letting people in here! Do your damn job!”

Gatekeeper: “Nothing to report!”

Dimitri: “I’m just saying, blue turns out well sometimes.”

Eirika: “I guess so! And hey, he got more votes than you did last year, so I guess he’ll be better than you!”

Dimitri: “Is that so? Congratulations, then!”

Gatekeeper: “Greetings!”

Eirika: “I hate you people. Why can’t you be as irritated about this as the rest of us?”

Dimitri: “Because, this event acknowledges everyone. We’re all popular, so we’re guaranteed alts, including the Braves, eventually.”

Chrom, who’s been waiting four years, and whose game has gotten one (1) alt in two years, and fewer characters on their New Heroes banner: “Yeah...yeah, eventually.”

Marianne, who still is not in the game despite ranking 8th in the female division last year: “Um…”

Eirika, whose game has one of the lowest alt counts, and who’s waited a year and a half for a Duo or Harmonic when her brother was the second to get one: “God I hate your entitled ass.”

Dimitri, whose game got 4 banners exclusive to them and 2 alts last year alone: “What do you mean? Everyone gets the things they want here, right?”

Eirika: “Just...fuck off already. The point is I will be the best brave alt.”

Marianne: “But, um...you said Colorless was…”

Eirika: “You’ll be the strongest, but I’ll be the best. I always get hit with red, and green is the perfect color coverage. I’ll be getting what’s best for me.”

Marianne: “Oh. Well, I suppose that is fair…”

Marth, crying: “I hate you all so much!”

Gatekeeper: “Greetings!”

Alm, still crying: “And I’m gonna get an amazing refine and then Micaiah, Eliwood, and Camilla will be sorry!”

Dimitri: “I don’t get why everyone’s so mad.”

Eirika: “God I hate this event. At least I’ll never have to deal with this shit again...”

#feh headcanons #choose your legends 5 #eirika #gatekeeper #marianne #marth #alm #dimitri #chrom

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codylabs · 4 years ago

Photo

Class-3 Combat Support Frame

Lore and process below cut

Lore:

Designed for an infantry support role by the Grey Reign. Intended to be a lightly armed and armored frame that was both cheap to produce and easy to use, for the primary purpose of ferrying around large weapons and heavier cargo on the battlefield, while allowing oversight AIs a greater on-hand presence. The suit’s shoulders and hips were left unarmored to increase flexibility, and the weakness was addressed with a trio of ballistic tarps. The tarps would unfortunately yield to powerful weapons, and did not shield against landmine shrapnel from below. For this reason and others, the Class-3 proved more cumbersome than justifiable on the battlefield, and was eventually used exclusively for riot control and disaster response. Unlike some other models, the Class-3s do not augment the wearer’s speed or dexterity, as they possess neither jets nor driving cleats, and their onboard computer runs fully reactive by default (as opposed to allowing AI to predict the wearer’s next actions). The unit’s artificial musculature does increase user strength threefold, and its plates lend near-complete immunity to small arms fire and physical attacks. Powered by a standard-issue gravitic battery (the birthday cake-sized cylinder on the back).

Many of the Class-3 units were appropriated and used against the Reign by resistance factions, including the Time Knights. Unlike the Reign, which had to justify equipment expenditure against the value of the troops they were protecting, the Time Knights saw the stolen suits as next to worthless against the limited number of human lives among their ranks, and did their best to equip all their troops with armor whenever they could. The Class-3s were used whenever more capable models were unavailable. The guerilla groups enjoyed the Class 3 for their simple manufacture and construction, which made conducting repairs and fabricating replacement parts easy.

Process:

Picture 1: The basic look of this suit was inspired by the cool skirts and boots they wear in Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, of all things, and I just made the rest of the suit match the arched-square shape of the legs. Had a hard time deciding on a helmet, but kind of soft-settled on the down-sloped one on the left because it looks like something a knight would wear. I’m still not 100% sure about the helmet.

Nausicaa: (I guess you can kind of see the resemblance? Maybe?? (???))

Picture 2: Sketches of various internal mechanisms. to show how the shoulders, elbows, and knees are structured. If you can tell what the heck my wordless pictures mean, then cool. (The hips would be built similar to the shoulders, but without the 3rd degree of twisting freedom. Conveniently hidden beneath skirt so I never have to draw it.)

Picture 3: A couple of troopers fighting a pair of monster worms. Drawn because WOW RADICAL

Picture 4: The same couple practicing sparring. On the left here you can see a backpack looped around the suit’s rear cargo rails.

#scifi #concept #original #Time Knights #oc #power armor #exoskeleton

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

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Dear Dean (Chapter 14)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 5.4k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, angst, “minor” character death

SERIES MASTERLIST

September 12th, 1944

Dean knew that good things don’t last. He learned that life lesson long ago and it was the only thing he remembered.

That little family of his? It didn’t last. The dream of just staying back home, work and pay for Sam’s studies? It didn’t last. The good thing with Bambi? That frankly didn’t last either, even though it wasn’t over. Not technically. Not when Dean could still find a way back to her. But the days in Brest with hot showers and hot food, that certainly couldn’t last. He knew that and still he was angry that they had to move back to the front line again. It was too soon. There was never enough time.

Dean waited with his platoon on the parade square. They were packed and ready to march out come Twenty-one-hundred-hours. Moral had been low ever since Bambi left, but they all knew that they had to keep on moving, had to keep on going and Dean wasn’t crazy about keeping Cas alive anymore. He wanted to keep his platoon together. Without them, he’d be lost and lonely.

It was Twenty-thirty-nine-hours and the men are going through their belongings, checking if they had everything. Dean did the same, to be thorough. He checked his haversack, his webbing, and then he looked into the pocket where he kept his flask. It was empty now. He knew that he should have filled it before they left, but it was too late. He knew he could use the space for something more important, so he took it out to put it into his haversack. His eyebrows came together when his fingers brushed a piece of paper in the pocket beside the flask.

He unfolded it. The lighting wasn’t the greatest on the parade square, but it was enough for him to read what was on it.

Dear Dean,

I don’t even know if you’ll find this and if you do - congratulations!

Come home soon, alright? I never said it, because I don’t know how to say it, but I think I love you with all my heart.

Bambi (shut up, I quite like that nickname)

Dean chuckled to himself and shit, his eyes were welling up.

“One Platoon, ready?” Castiel could be heard shouting from the front.

Dean folded the note and tucked it back into the side pocket of his combat pants. He stood at attention. Looking into the eyes of his men before he answered. “One Platoon, ready sir!”

***

September 15th, 1944

Baker company joined the battle at Fort Montbarey.

Castiel sent in one platoon after another, and each of them had to retreat back. They were losing men, and Dean’s platoon suffered with some wounded and unfortunately, Dopey was hit in the jaw.

Thankfully there were no more casualties. Dean didn’t know if he would be able to cope with that. They were a family and losing one meant losing a piece of themselves.

“Sir, there’s no way that we can get through.” Dean said as he knelt beside Cas.

“I know that. It was an order. Dammit Dean, you wanna switch places? I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Risking the lives of our men just because some stupid strategist thinks it do-able?”

“Cas,” Dean tried to calm his CO down, but Cas stood up and walked away swiftly.

Later that day, they had support from the British 79th Armoured Tanks, and they were able to break through.

***

September 17th, 1944

They finally captured the whole of Brest, and the whole of Baker company (or what was left of it) had time to recover. Thankfully, Dean’s platoon only had wounded apart from Dopey. Harvelle had a ricochet grazing his ass, but he was fine. At least there was that.

Dean finally had the time to find a barber, or at least someone with a steady hand who wouldn’t cut off his ear if he let them near his hair.

He walked the streets of Brest with a couple men of his platoon when they came across a barbershop - excuse Dean - it’s called coiffure here, how fancy!

The shop belonged to a French woman who introduced herself as Lisa. She was very friendly to his men and a couple of the women who worked there even offered some massages in the back of the salon. Dean didn’t even want to know what kind they meant by that, but he was sure that it didn’t involve scalp massages.

Sneezy followed a girl back to the back room with a shy smile on his face.

“Hey, Sneezy, if you’ve got a rash, I’m not scratching it, alright!” Dean called out, and there was laughter from a couple of other men behind him.

They were provided with condoms again, thank god. Too late for him, but not too late for his men, Dean guessed. The French women were all kinds of very, very thankful that the Allied Forces liberated them from the Nazis, and they were not shy about showing it.

It was Dean’s turn, and he took a seat. Lisa threaded her hands in Dean’s hair and he couldn’t lie. It felt great.

“What can I do for you, sir?” She asked him with a heavy French accent.

“Just cut it, I don’t really care.” He said truthfully, and he really didn’t. It was only hair and he wasn’t fuzzy. It would be covered by his helmet anyway.

“You have very nice hair, sir.” She hinted, her red lips curved up into a smile.

“Lieutenant, I think she likes you.” Tran, who sat on the worn out couch, watching them, chimed in.

Dean sent him a side eye, because he didn’t want Lisa to cut his ear off if he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe she’ll give you a massage. You’d deserve it, sir.” Tran winked and raised an eyebrow.

“I would love to give you a massage.” Lisa whispered into Dean’s ear, as she cut at the hair above it.

Dean chuckled then. “I’m alright, thank you.”

“That’s too bad. You know, if you change your mind, you and me could have a good time.” She was persistent, and Dean thought that she probably didn’t get turned down a lot. It wasn’t hard to imagine since she was easy on the eye, and the soldiers were all desperate.

“You know where I am.” She said as she brushed off the hair she just cut from his shoulders. Dean stood up to pay, thanking her.

“Well, I might want a massage.” Tran said, grinning like a winner.

Dean frowned. “Tran, you have a sweetheart at home.”

“Sir, she doesn’t need to know. I’m..uh… have needs.”

“Well, you do you. I’ll see you all tonight at briefing.” Dean said, nodding as he walked out. He could only hear Lisa saying, “I’m alright, thank you.” to Tran and everyone started to laugh before the door closed behind him.

Dear Bambi,

I know I have only sent you a letter more than 10 days ago and you’re probably not even home yet.

Just wanted to keep you in the loop of what’s going on. We captured Brest. You’d be proud of us all. Dopey didn’t make it though, I’m sorry about that, Jamie. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it. It’s not that I didn’t try. I told him to stay back, but I guess my men had taken a liking to you and your ways of not listening to me. He was a fine man, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep him alive.

How are you? Did you arrive home alright? Is everything still the same? I’m dying to know about your life back home. Actually, anything that you could tell me that would take my mind off the war would be greatly appreciated.

I haven’t heard from Sam in a while and that’s been bothering me. I kept sending him letters, but I haven’t received anything back. I put Cas on it, to try to find out, but Cas is rather busy and finding Sam is not his priority right now. There’s nothing I can do other than to sit here and wait.

Fuck, Bambi, I miss you. I wish you were here. No wait, scratch that. If I could have a wish granted, I’d wish I would be there with you. Far away from war. That’d be great.

I found your note, by the way. Did you really think that I wouldn’t find it?

Shit Bambi, I never knew what love felt like. I have never said the L-word to anyone else except of Sam and if I did in my youth, it was said without meaning, so I get it when you’re not ready to say it yet. Like I said, I never knew how it felt like, that’s why I had to ask Sam. You heard the letter I read to you. It feels like this, doesn’t it?

I’ll write again whenever I can. You take care and wait for me, alright? And please, this time, for once, do what I tell you to.

Enclosed you can find a picture of me after I had a haircut today. Just so you remember how handsome I am.

Yours,

Dean

***

September 24th, 1944

Dear Dean,

I’ve just arrived home yesterday. Your letter was not the only letter to greet me, but the only one to welcome me home. Thank you for that. Only it doesn’t feel like home. Home is where the heart is, or so they say, and my heart’s still with you. Do you hear it beating? Hold it tight and don’t let go, alright?

I have been reading through the letters my brothers sent to me during my absence. They must have been worried that I wasn’t writing them back. You remember Jim, right? He was with the paratroopers. He dropped off a package for me when he was in Saint Lo. It’s his reserve parachute. He said “it’s pure silk, Jamie. I’ve been holding on to it since I landed, and I want you to have it. I saw you today, and I could have given it to you, but I thought that you didn’t need to carry another useless garbage in your haversack. Make a wedding dress out of it, alright? You’ll look great in it. I love you, kid.” So, I’ve been crying since, but I’m alright, don’t you worry.

Thank you for your picture, I’ll hang it on the door as to repel visitors.

If I can find a decent one of me without snot hanging out of my nose or without one of my brothers in the frame with me, I’ll send it to you.

I was joking, as you can see, there’s a picture of me, which Jameson took at our graduation. Behind the girl with long hair in her summer dress, you see our garden and our house.

It feels so lonely here, Dean, and yes, I wish you could be here with me.

I’m sorry about Dopey, too. Dean, it’s not your fault. I’ll go visit Trenton’s mom in the next couple of days. I’ve sent a telegram out to her right after I arrived. I thought I’d do that while I still have short hair. Wish me luck.

Shit, I’m sorry to hear about Sam. I hope Cas can get on the case. He’s alright, Dean. He has to be.

There’s not much news from here. Unless you want to read about what I need to clean next in the house? I don’t think it’s going to be of great interest, to be perfectly honest with you. As soon as everything settles around here, I plan to go back to school. Training to be a nurse or a teacher, I haven’t decided yet. So, there’s that about me. I’m quite the plain jane as you can see.

Dean, before I end this letter, I wanted to thank you. Thanks for not exposing me and keeping me a secret. And maybe you think that once I’m back, I will go back to my old life, find a decent man who’s around, whom I could start a family with. I know you think that you and me, what we had was just a fling. Maybe it was a chance that we both took because we didn’t have anyone else around, but the truth is, I chose you, Dean and if I could go back, I’d choose you all over again. From the moment that you screamed in my face and looked at me with your angry green eyes, you had me.

Thank you for keeping me alive.

Love, Bambi

***

October 2nd, 1944

Dean ran into Cas on the way out. They moved out towards Herzogenrath and things had been wild. Everyone scrambled around, picking up things that needed to be moved, and Dean still hadn’t heard from Sam.

“Cas! Sir!” He didn’t know how he should address Cas in the open, he tried both and Cas stopped.

“Dean,”

“Yeah. It’s me. Look, I know that we are moving out today and all. I just wanted to know if you’ve heard from Sam, is all.”

“No, not yet, Dean. I can put a word in today before we move out, alright?” He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him. Cas knew how close Dean and Sam were.

“Great. Thanks.” Dean nodded and he turned to walk out to the square when Cas called after him.

“I got a letter for you, almost forgot!”

Dean ran back to retrieve it. There was no address on it, but Dean knew from the writing that it was from Jamie. She was probably extra careful not to put any return address on it, just in case.

“Thanks.” He smiled brightly at Cas.

Dean sat on the steps as he read through it laughing at her use of his picture. He tucked the letter neatly back into his haversack and took his time to look at the photograph. Jamie, with long flowing brown hair. Her eyes were still as wide as he remembered them, and Dean wished for nothing more than to be able to hold her in his arms again.

The house in the back was big and old. It could use some fixing, and maybe Dean was thinking way ahead, but he would love to get his hands on the house and make it nice and homey again.

It was time to move out and Dean tucked the photograph in to his helmet, keeping it safe next to the note from Jamie and the picture of Sam - he had cut Anna and him out - and as close to him as possible.

Dear Bambi,

We’ve moved out again. Baker’s time of retreat is over. It was too good to be true anyway. They even had a movie theater set up, but I spent my time reading. It wasn’t like I haven’t seen the movies 100 times over.

I hope you’re well. Please tell me that you’re well. At least, I’d have some good news.

I’m still so sorry about your brothers, Jamie. Jim was a fine man. He looked out for you. I bet you’d look fabulous in white silk, too. Maybe it’s a bit too far fetched but.. I don’t know.. could you maybe. Shit, I don’t even know how to phrase that. By the way, if you could see me, you’d be laughing at me because I’m red as a tomato. Well, to go back to what I’ve started, and I know you’d be mad at me if I would just change the subject; When you told me about the silk dress, I could picture you in it and shit, Bambi, in my imagination you look perfect, alright. I wish you’d make a wedding dress out of it and if it’s not too much to ask for - you can call me crazy - I don’t know, maybe I do secretly wish that the man who is standing beside you at your wedding would be me? Would that be too crazy?

How did Trenton’s mom react to your visit? If you haven’t been yet. Tell her that I said hi and that it was an honor for me to have him in my platoon. He did some excellent work and I mean, he was great, and I considered myself lucky that I was his leader. Tell her that if you’re still in contact, alright? Cas probably wrote out a letter to her already, but I wanted for her to hear it from me, too.

Still no word from Sam, Jamie. I’m so fucking worried. Would you..I mean, could you maybe write to him, too? I mean, if it’s not too much trouble. I just… don’t know how else I could reach him. I don’t know, but maybe letters from home would reach him. Maybe it’s just our communication that’s been cut off? Honestly, I would like to abandon my platoon and go look for Sam, but that would get my ass in jail. It would mean that I wouldn’t get to go home to you either, so that’s not an option at the moment. Besides, I can’t leave family behind. I have written Sam’s coordinates down, in case you want to try to reach him.

Did you see what I wrote? Family. It never felt like that until you came along. Thank you for that. You did something special, Bambi. You kept us together, you cared for us all and that meant something.

You’re wrong on one thing, though. I didn’t think that it was just a fling. You are so much more, and maybe I’m wrong, but I knew the moment I screamed at you, sprayed my spit in your face, and looked into your big brown eyes that there was something wrong with you. I wrote to Sam about it, telling him that there’s something about you that I can’t put my finger on, and I felt it in my gut. So maybe we chose each other, huh? I’m glad it was you, and I’m glad it’s still you.

I think you must have received a lot of letters from the men, didn’t you? I saw them penning letters to you. Tran and Harvelle. Even Sneezy. They all miss you. Me included, but you know that already.

Alright, we’ve got Herzogenrath to assault. I will try to keep myself alive.

And oh, Bambi? Please don’t put my photograph on your door? I mean, unless you want random women to come knocking it down asking who that handsome fella is, because they want to ask me out on a date, then yeah, just keep it there.

Bye sweetheart. I’m coming home pretty soon. I can feel it.

I love you. There, I said it. I miss you with every breath I take.

Yours,

Dean

***

October 9th, 1944

“Take cover! Get off the streets!” Dean could only yell as a shell hits the building behind him, leaving a hole as big as himself as it rained cinder blocks as big as his head.

He took his feet in his hand an ran for his life, pulling at the webbings of his men who stood there frozen when he passed them, getting them to run with him. “Get the fuck out! Move move!”

Dean screamed for his men to fucking get out of there, to fall the fuck back, and when he finally saw that everyone of them was running to their rendezvous point, he put his hand on his helmet, swung his rifle over his shoulders and ran.

There’s no way they were getting in. They had to find another way. He didn’t like to risk his men and Cas damn well knew it.

***

October 11th, 1944

Baker was tucked away sleeping in abandoned apartments and houses. Fox was on sentry and Dog was out on patrol. Baker had the night to regain their strength, and they fucking needed it. Herzogenrath was almost done, but there were still a couple of villages around that had German outpost that they need to take out. Dean could finally breathe again.

He was billeted with a couple men of his platoon. They didn’t have beds so they were just lying on the ground. Harvelle found a metal bucket and lit up a fire in the middle of the room. Some of the men were heating water for coffee.

Dean had his back against the wall, his helmet was lying next to him, and he took out the picture of Sam. Still no sign of him. To say that Dean was worried was an understatement.

“Coffee, sir?” Tran held out a metal mug and Dean took it, thanking him. Tran took the liberty to sit next to Dean, and they drank their coffee in silence.

Tran saw the picture in Dean’s hand. “Is that Sam?”

“Huh?” Dean then chuckled, tracing his fingers along his brother’s face on the picture. “Yeah, my brother. He’s in the field. I haven’t heard from him.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s alright. I still have hope.” Dean tucked the picture back with his free hand.

“And that other picture?” Tran asked curiously.

Dean hesitated at first, he didn’t know if he should show it but then he thought, why not. Everyone was bragging about their sweethearts and besides, apart from the big eyes, Jamie didn’t look like the private Jamie. She looked like a woman and not a skinny private. “This?” He said, taking it out and showed it to Tran.

“That your girl, Lieutenant?”

“Huh,” Dean chuckled, his tongue wetting his bottom lip before he bit on it. “Yeah. That’s my girl.” There was a shy smile on Dean’s face. He never really had a girl to call his own, and to be able to say that, was kind of weird, but the good kind. Dean could get used to it.

“She’s fucking beautiful.” Tran was still looking at the picture.

“Yeah, she is.” Dean trailed his fingers along her picture as if he tried to touch her.

“Shit, Harvelle, the Lieutenant has a total babe at home. Fuck, look at that.” Tran called out for Harvelle to come over and when Harvelle sat down, he peeked at the picture.

“Damn, Lieutenant. How did we not know?”

“Was that why you didn’t want to have a massage with what’s her name? Lana?” Tran asked Harvelle, probably deliberately saying a wrong name because he was still butthurt Lisa didn’t want to massage him, and Harvelle answered with Lisa.

“I’m not a big fan of screwing around.” Dean said dryly, and it was the truth. He did that a lot when he was younger, but no, he wasn’t going to do it when he had Jamie to go home to. He wasn’t going to fuck up the only thing that kept him going forward, the only thing that kept him alive.

“Well, I’m a big fan of her.” Harvelle pointed his chin at the picture.

“Me too.” Tran said as he looked at the picture again. “And she looks so familiar.”

Dean’s heart started to drum harder.

“Say, Lieutenant, is she maybe someone famous? I mean, I think I’ve seen her somewhere. I just don’t know where.”

“Yeah, you’re right. She looks damn familiar.” Harvelle agreed.

“Letters from home!” Gabriel walked by, and Dean had never been more happy about seeing Gabriel.

“Here, Winchester!” Gabe threw him the letters to his feet.

Dean tucked the picture back into his helmet before he got on to his feet to distribute the letters to his men.

He received one as well. It wasn’t from Sam, which he hoped that it would be. It was from Jamie which was really the next best thing.

He ripped the letter open, eager to read it and all the others did the same.

Dear Dean,

Did you hear from Sam yet? I’ve penned him a letter, it should reach him the same day as you get that letter from me. I didn’t know what I should write to him, so I did my best in Jamie-style awkward letter penning. I hope it makes him smile a little.

Your letter arrived just before I was about to leave to see Trenton’s mom. It took her longer to accept. I think she had to convince herself that she actually wanted to see me, so that’s a good thing, I guess, because then I could tell her about what you wanted me to. Dean, it was so emotional. She said that I should thank you from her. Trenton’s been writing home and telling them how good of a leader you are. He thought highly of you, and he wanted to be like you. She told me that Trenton also wrote them about me. About me being his best friend. I cried - you can probably imagine. She thanks you from the bottom of her heart, and she prays for you to come back home. Dean, never doubt yourself and your leadership, alright? I’m rooting for you. I’m waiting for you to come back. You were Trenton’s hero, and you are still mine.

I wore a dress today. First time in what seemed like forever. Since I’ve been back, I walked around in Jameson’s clothes that are way too big for me. But today I thought I could try on my dress and it fits. I just need to remind myself that I should eat more so the dress will fit right again. Guess the front line does things to your body, huh? You would have loved it, though. But again, I think that you would love everything I put on. Even if it’s just some old men’s cotton underwear and a military undershirt and combat pants. But Dean, I looked really cute. Just saying. I found my mom’s old hat to go with it. You know, the hair is not long enough yet, but I’m getting there.

The reason I wore a dress to venture out is that I’ve been feeling bad lately. I can’t keep food down, and I went to see my GP. He put it down to stress that I’m under - oh boy, if he only knew - but I think it’s something different so I went to see another GP.

Everything’s fine, Dean. Don’t you worry about me, alright? I’m good. Better than good. You just take care of yourself and make sure you’re coming home to me. That’s your only job. Apart from killing Nazis, I mean.

There’s big news that I’d like to tell you about but I can’t do it through a letter. I don’t know how to word. You’ve gotta come home so I can tell you, alright?

Hey, if I could I would roll my eyes at you right now for your comment about your picture. I’ll keep it save, don’t worry. Don’t need my neighbors coming around to ask who that fine dreamboat of a man is that’s been hanging on the front door. Because for now, you’re a secret I like to keep to myself. I’m not ready to share you yet.

And to tell you the truth, you’re not crazy for imagining standing next to me on my wedding day. I’ve been doing the same.

I love you deeply.

Always,

Jamie

“Lieutenant?” A young private, probably one of the replacements, pulled Dean back to reality.

Dean looked up from the letter, his eyes a little teary. “Yeah?”

“Sir, Lieutenant Novak wants to see you.”

Dean cleared his throat as he folded the letter back and tucked it into his jacket. “Yeah, sure.”

He walked with the runner to the Company CP where Cas was waiting for him.

“Sir?”

“Dean,” Cas said and that was Dean’s clue that they were at ease. Otherwise, he was Lieutenant Winchester. “You wanna sit?” Cas turned the chair around for Dean.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Cas shrugged. “Alright,” He sat back on his desk and as usual, he grabbed his cigarette tin and took one out. “I’m not going to ask if you want one.”

“No.”

“I should cut the chase.” He lit one up and inhaled. “Dean, fuck, I don’t know how I should tell you this.”

No. Don’t.

Dean felt nauseous.

“It’s Sam, Dean. They were on a patrol mission, clearing out a German outpost. He was standing where the grenade went off and was killed on impact.”

Dean didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He dropped his helmet where he was stood and walked to the nearest wall to throw up, right there in the fucking company office, and he didn’t care one little bit.

He used both his hands to brace the wall and Dean knew that his stomach was empty, he hadn’t been eating properly in days and there was nothing going to come out anymore, but the feeling of throwing up was still there so Dean choked and retched until he felt his head spin.

“Dean, hey, hey.” Cas put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and Dean tucked his head between his hands, the cool wall on his forehead providing little relief. His body began to shake and vibrate, and Dean didn’t even know that he was crying. The sound that came out were alien to him. He felt tears dropping from the tip of his nose.

Sam.

Dean clenched his fists, punching at the wall, and he kept on crying and punching until the skin around his knuckles felt raw. Until his knuckles were bleeding.

Sammy.

“Shit, Dean. I’m so sorry.” Cas started to say, his hand rubbing at Dean’s back as he stood there. He’s here for him as a friend and not his CO. Dean knew that much. It soothed him and it made him calm down, because he realized that he wasn’t alone. That he was still in the middle of a war and fuck, he just wanted to go home. He just wanted to crawl into Bambi’s arms and cry his eyes out. She’d hold him. She’d be the rock that he was missing.

He wanted to ask if he could see Sammy for one last time, but he knew that it was logistically not possible. Besides, he didn’t even know if there was enough left of Sam to be identified.

Oh fuck, Sammy!

It took a while for Dean to regain his composure, to feel like he wasn’t in a fucking nightmare.

He rubbed his bloody and bruised hand over his eyes and face and pinched the bridge of his nose before his hands searched for the chair Cas offered. He took a seat and picked up his helmet from the floor. He took out Sam’s picture to look at his brother.

“Fuck, Dean. It means you can go home. The regiment will take you off, deem you 4-G. you’re getting to go home.”

Dean didn’t want to tell Cas that home wouldn’t be the same if Sam wasn’t in it. There was no home without Sam. It never had been a home to him when he couldn’t get back to Sam at the end of the day. But then he thought of Jamie and took out her picture. He still had Jamie to live for, and he knew that Sam wouldn’t want to have it any other way. Sam would rip him a new one if Dean backed out from going home. If Dean backed out of having a future that was cut short for Sam. Sam would want him to be happy.

Shit, Sam!

Dean buried his head back in his hand, the pictures crumbling in his palms.

“When will I go?” It was a whisper, but Dean knew that Cas heard him well.

“That’s the thing. You’d have to wait until we reach Aachen. Can you do that? You’ll get to go as soon as we reach Aachen. The regiment can’t send someone to fetch you while we’re still here.”

Dean sniffed and brushed the back of his hand at his nose. “Yeah, okay.” He felt numb.

“I hate to see you go, Dean.”

Dean nodded. He wanted to say something. Anything. Maybe something along the lines of I don’t wanna go either, Cas, or I don’t want to abandon my family. But the words wouldn’t come out. Because more than anything, he wanted to go home.

“Take a rest. We’ll be moving forward soon.”

CHAPTER 15

#dear dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #spn fic #spn au fic #nathalie writes

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drabbleitout · 5 years ago

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The Last Line: Chapter Snippet & Character Introduction

Taglist: @abalonetea, @simplelinesunfashiond, @idreamonpaper, @starlitesymphony, @for-fuchs-sake –please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

Vitale hurried, bundled in his heavy uniform complete with greatcoat and beret. He was thankful for it in the cloud-dimmed dawn and freezing snow. He managed to meet Becker on time, the first time since arriving.

His reward was a frown instead of a lecture.

Today marked a week in Anglia. Different for certain, but not all bad. He was alive for starters. But Becker clearly didn’t care for him. He hardly acknowledged him. Even with his scolding, Vitale could count on one hand the number of times Becker addressed him, on two when he spoke in general.

Yet, few Anglians were more talkative.

Königsberg had a number of bridges at its center, cleaved by a river that flowed south from the sea. It forked, creating an island where five bridges linked the different areas of the fortress city. When they didn’t take the bridge to the office, Vitale stopped.

“Becker, sir?”

“Address me as Earl Becker.” He didn’t even pause, crossing a different bridge.

“Earl Becker, sir, are we not going into the office today?” Vitale took a final glance to the faithful bridge before hopping into a jog after him.

“It’s about time you met the men.”

“Aio! Really? I can’t wait. I’ve wanted to meet them, but I don’t know where anything is yet.” Vitale laughed, hoping Becker would offer a tour at some point. He was as silent as the morning. “I don’t think I’ve been this way yet.” It was easy to see the roads were wider here. Instead of homes, the path was lined with stables and tall, long buildings Vitale could only guess were warehouses. He couldn’t help but notice how these weren’t half decomposed or neglected.

Supplies, probably.

The road stopped at a set of massive, wooden doors. The guard stationed there saluted, the build up of snow on his cap and shoulders tumbling down his jacket as he turned to enter a smaller gate. Becker followed him and Vitale joined.

A short hallway opened into a massive courtyard. Its sides were made up of long buildings, four floors high, bare board siding and several windows. The wall at the far end was one of the massive block walls that made up the outer shell of the fortress. Becker pointed left.

“This building holds Grandmaster Møller and Earl Rask’s men.”

“Earl Rask?”

“That building is where my men and the armory are.” He pointed to the right. Besides a few training targets and snow, the courtyard was empty. “These are the barracks of North Command. Smaller, guest barracks for South and Central Command are near the main gate.” Before Vitale could question, Becker moved towards the building on the right only to stop in the center of the yard. Vitale hurried up beside him and waited.

And waited.

No one joined them, in fact there was no other noise besides the whistling wind of the ramparts.

“Vitale,” Becker speaking without being spoken to startled him.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“On the fourth morning of the month you will round up the men at dawn for inspection.” Becker peered down from over the collar of his long coat. Vitale glanced from him to the barracks, waiting. There was nothing, empty. After a moment he looked back to Becker.

“There’s no one—”

“Line up Löwen!” He bellowed out, echoing off stone walls. Vitale shrank at the volume, pretending he hadn’t nearly jumped out of his skin. Becker passed the glare back down, “All you have to do is call them into the yard. Their Thengs will do the rest. You shouldn’t be able to mess that up, should you?”

At once thundering boots raided the yard. Flooding from the breezeway of the barracks lower level, hundreds of identically dressed soldiers rushed out. In their charcoal greys, carrying packs and blades, they took up individual places in the snow. Invisible marks to stand at arms’ length in perfect squares. Every so often a man in a gold embellished helm accompanied them, standing at attention at the front creating neat aisles.

Just as quickly as they arrived, the stream stopped and everyone went still. Vitale stared, struggling to understand if this was awe or fear –perhaps both. He couldn’t understand how they knew where to stand, where to begin finding their place, or how they simply weren’t shivering.

Becker rocked into a step, hands clasped behind his back as he approached the rows. The first man he arrived at was one with a gold helm, Vitale recognizing him as the officer from the river, Kuebrich.

“How many wounded?” Becker asked and Vitale floundered with what to say.

“Five are still in infirm, sir.” Kuebrich nodded, eyes set past Becker. “Six have recovered and returned.” Becker nodded, scanning over the detachment before slowly turning to Vitale.

“This is Thegn Kuebrich, leader of my scouting division. If, for some reason, I am unable to give orders, he will take charge.” Vitale glanced to the Thegn, his thin mouth curving into a soft smile. It relaxed him to a degree. Becker turned on his heels, regarding the other two Thegns. “Listen up, this is Officer Vitale –from Rome. He is going to be with us for a little while, under my charge. His job is to observe and report back to Rome, and therefore will be guarded as property of the alliance. If you have any complaints, you will report them directly to me. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” They chanted in unison.

“Vitale,” he waved him after, meeting the next gold helmed man. “This is Thegn Thorn, of the Cavalry division.” He was older, tanned and weathered, with eyes that squinted beneath his bent brown. He offered out a handshake and Vitale hesitantly took it.

“Good to meet you, Office Vitale…” Thorn retracted his hand as Becker slid past him into the rank and file. Vitale scrambled as to what to do, deciding to follow. Slinking between the rows and neatly groomed soldiers, he glanced between them, noticing the way they kept face. Like statues. Only their eyes following.

“Your name, Fryd?” Becker asked a lanky adolescent.

“Bursar, sir.” He answered, eyes afront, stonelike. Becker scrutinized him, tipping back his cap.

“You were wounded, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bursar held the river from Rus invaders in Gerrik, sir.” Thorn spoke up from the head of the line.

“Already back on your feet? Are you well?”

“As I can be, sir.” He never once looked at Becker.

“Congratulations would be in order, however, I see you’ve been careless.” He reached up for the boy’s chinstrap, a light tug snapping it from the helm. “You aren’t taking care of your gear. No excuse, you’ll be on maintenance this afternoon.”

Bursar didn’t argue, didn’t have the time. Becker turned on his heels, Vitale hurrying to backpedal out of the way before following him back to the front.

“I expect you to keep an eye on this one, Thorn.”

“Yes sir,”

The third Thegn was taller than the others, as broad as Thorn with less age on him. His hair was braided into rows against his scalp, bunched at the back of his neck.

“Vitale, this is Thegn Quinn. He leads the Infantry division.” Quinn moved in a much more lively manner, shaking hands with a wink.

“A good assistant, I see, sir.” His voice was loud, thick with a rhotic accent Vitale could only describe as the way someone’s voice lengthened and swayed while drunk. Quinn was solid as a rock, flashing a smile that stood out against his dark complexion. “We’re glad ta have you, Officer Vitale.”

“Thank you, Thegn Quinn. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Well, now that we have introductions out of the way, I want it known that Vitale will be assembling you from now on.” Becker addressed them all. Quinn’s hand went limp, face elongating as he stared at Becker. “Do you have a problem with that, Thegn?”

“Nae –no sir, not at all.” He caught the expression, drawing back in place. With a nod, Becker stepped away, back down the line.

“As you’ve all most likely heard, Officer Vitale is my new assistant. He will be bringing you all forward for inspections for the time being. I expect you to all respect him just the same.” Turning to face all three divisions, he nodded. “He will dismiss you now.”

Vitale froze as Becker looked at him.

He had never dealt with soldiers before, certainly not a crowd, and definitely not near machines like Anglians. Clearing his throat he glanced again to Becker in hopes of some signal or explanation. “Uh… D-dismissed,” he chirped, swallowing as the lines turned one at a time towards the barracks. Neat and orderly. “...that is amazing.”

“That’s called discipline,” Becker muttered. “Anything less is unacceptable. If anyone falls out of line it is your responsibility to put them back in their place.”

“You mean, yell at them?” Vitale chewed his lip, hands wringing.

“Unless you know of a better way –of course. They are soldiers, they know better. As my assistant you are to demonstrate authority. Understand?”

#My Writing #amwriting #writing #writeblr #Chapters #TLL #The Last Line WIP #Becker OC #Rune OC #TLL Apostates

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cateringisalie · 6 years ago

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Driving Lesson

Written for the prompt from @effortlesslyuncool: Prompt: Aeris teaching Yuffie and Tifa to drive. Yuffie being more interested in fine tuning the radio than shifting gears smoothly; Aeris losing her ever loving shit with Yuffie not grasping financial consequences of frying the clutch. And because I am gay trash - token cliché moment where Tifa experiences complete loss of executive function when Aeris reaches under the hood/bonnet and begins replacing a radiator hose herself

(Also on Ao3 & Fanfiction.net)

Close to an hour after Cloud, Barret and Nanaki vanished off on Bugenhagen’s mysterious mission, Aeris grew restless. Technically the canyon offered a number of activities; talk with the Elders, sample more cocktails in the bar, study in the library, but none of those appealed. Perhaps they could simply enjoy more downtime and a break from their journey. Aeris settled back onto her hands. The blue sky spread wide above her. Nope. Needed to do something. One of the canyon's mechanics wandered past the Cosmo Candle. Ah. "Since the buggy’s fixed, either of you want to learn how to drive?”

Yuffie shot to her feet with a whoop. “Finally.” Less enthusiasm from Tifa. “Not sure I’m up to it.” Likely inferring Aeris’s mad-cap fleeing the Shinra building. Tifa had clung white-knuckled to the dashboard and squads of motorcycle riding Shinra infantry harried them on all sides. Plausibly enough to put anyone off driving. “I was thinking more moving forward and steering,” Aeris said. She grinned at Yuffie’s fallen expression. “Maybe the rest some other times. But you don't have to. It'd just be nice to have someone else driving so it’s not always me and Cloud.” “I feel I should, but-“ Tifa broke off when Aeris laid her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.” A glance to Yuffie. “And we are taking this slow.” Another whine from the ninja and Tifa still not convinced. "Cait? How about you?" The mechanical moogle sat silently nearby. Aeris waved her hand up and down in front of both the cat and moogle portions. Nothing. "Guess it's just us." Tida and Yuffie trailed after her when she clambered down to the ravine below the settlement. The Cosmo Canyon techs promised the engine would last until at least Nibleheim if they continued in the same direction. The town's name best not uttered much of late; neither Cloud nor Tifa liked hearing it. Maybe the driving lesson would distract Tifa from her hometown's proximity. The buggy’s interior still reeked; inevitable give the cramped, little ventilation and long hours crossing the desert. Sadly the air conditioner still did not work. Damned thing remained inoperable - no change there sadly. Tifa wrinkled her nose. “Forgot how bad it was in here.” Aeris settled into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. Heat rolled in and she frowned. Not the desired result. Driving should generate some breeze least. “If we keep the windows down, it should be bearable.” And maybe they could get a few of those scented things people dangled from the rear-view mirrors. Or a truckload of flowers. “Okay; who’s first?” Despite a raised eyebrow in Tifa's direction, Yuffie pushed past her and dropped into the driver’s seat instead. She wrenched the ignition, one hand fumbling for the built-in stereo, her foot stomping the accelerator to the floor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” “What?” Yuffie wrenched the radio's dial picking up little but the hiss of distant stars, accelerator still flat against the floor. “Stupid thing.” “The canyon isn’t going to help reception.” Tifa wisely strapped in one of the seats behind them. Good plan; Aeris pulled her own seatbelt around her. “Yuffie, stop,” Aeris said force. “Music is not the important part. You have to put the car in gear first.” “Gear? Oh. Is that when it goes-“ Yuffie made a filmic approximation of the noise of an engine in a film when it up-shifted. “Yes,” Aeris replied weakly. Perhaps her and Cloud doing the driving would be best. “But it’s not solely about going faster. You have to start off on the lowest gear and go up to the highest.” “I get it.” Yuffie strained against the shifter, her foot again pressing on the accelerator. “C’mon.” “Stop!” Aeris yelled. Yuffie glared at her. “You are going to wreck the clutch like that. Please, let me talk you through it.” Yuffie huffed, folded her arms and stared out the windshield. Tifa shot Aeris an encouraging smile; Aeris started from first principles and introduced Yuffie to the clutch pedal. Twice. Plus the brake and indicators for good measure. Yuffie stopped staring ahead and soon hung on Aeris’s every word. Good. She started the buggy up exactly as instructed when Aeris talked her through the steps, put it in gear, checked the various mirrors - plus the blind spot - and set the vehicle moving forward at a snail’s pace. Behind her the squeak of a leather seat indicated Tifa getting tenser. Aeris told Yuffie off when she clicked the radio back on; still nothing but white noise from the speakers. Yuffie clutched at the wheel, shifting the gears up to go a little faster. The hiss from the radio became annoying. Aeris reached to turn it off- A burst of something music-like erupted from the speakers. Yuffie’s focus went straight to it, her foot pressing down on the accelerator again, the keening of the engine building. “Yuffie,” Aeris said in exasperation. No response. The keening grew louder, the burst of music coming in pulses as Yuffie tried to pin down the right frequency. “Right.” She snapped the radio off and aimed her foot squarely at the brake. “You’ve got the basics; now it's Tifa’s turn.” Yuffie muttered and vacated the seat with reluctance. A nervous Tifa asked Aeris to repeat all her previous instructions in full. A far more diligent student than the ninja and she listened from the start. She got right up to starting the buggy when Aeris stopped her. A new concern. “Before we get you driving, maybe we should check the engine? It’s hot out here and we don’t want to break down a few miles down the road and need to walk.” Too many dodgy mechanics back in Midgar; easy to make a quick check. The sun hung low in the sky but the air remained sweltering. At least they had not travelled far from the ladder up to the plateau. Well within walking distance. Aeris popped the bonnet of the buggy and a wave of heat swept across her, sweat beading on her brow. “Phew!” She tugged at her neckline and leant over into the inferno. Quick check of the various engine components and at least only one concern. “I don’t like the look of that radiator hose.” She pointed down to the relevant part of the engine. “Easy fix though.” Spare components in the buggy, including a new hose. “This one’s an easy fix.” She leant over the engine, hiking one leg up on and onto the buggy’s body to get close enough. A pause and she hiked her skirt higher. Better. “One of the hose ends is dodgy.” Aeris plugged the new hose in place of the old. “Maybe I should go over some of the other easy fixes later.” Aeris straightened up and trailed off. “I-“ Tifa stuttered, glanced away and clamped her mouth shut, her face bright red. Yuffie doubled over laughing. “Are you okay?” Aeris shifted her dress on her shoulders and fanned her face. Tifa shot a mortified look at Yuffie and darted past Aeris. She took a glance - far too quick - at the engine and rushed to the door. “Thanks for showing-“ Tifa stopped when Yuffie laughed harder. “Can we leave her?” Aeris pursed her lips. “Tempting. Okay; let's do it." Tifa flushed again but ducked into the buggy. Yuffie reacted faster than expected and managed to scramble in on Aeris's heels. Shame. Tifa gripped the steering wheel tight. “Ready to try again?” Tifa nodded and ran through the relevant steps. Aeris pulled down the visor and checked the mirror. No oil splatter on her face. A faint sheen lay on her exposed skin, hair slightly damp. Nothing on her clothes; she had avoided brushing against the engine. What had fazed Tifa so? She shook her head and again tugged at her neckline. Still warm; she tugged her skirt away from her legs and removed her jacket. Yuffie continued to cackle about something hilarious.

#aerith gainsborough #tifa lockhart #yuffie kisaragi #final fantasy vii #final fantasy #my ffvii fanfic

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haydenandtrish · 6 years ago

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A tour of Brussels

From historic to hipster. Timeless beauty to rundown surroundings. Nestled within a country that was once a battlefield for World Wars, revolutions and rebellions – it has seen its fair share of bloodshed and misery. The French, Dutch, German, Austrians and British have all staked their claim to the lands at one point in time. They have rebuilt their city from the ruins of war and have created their own culture within Europe. Now an independent multicultural city flourishing with pride for their craftsmanship, food, craft beers, art galleries and more. Welcome to Brussels, the capital of Belgium and the unofficial capital of the European Union, we can’t wait to show you around.

All right, let's go. We begin in Koekelberg, north of Brussels. The outskirts of the city are more residential – just like anywhere. It is far cheaper to stay here and we were able to gain a greater appreciation and understanding for the city by being immersed in a more authentic area where few spoke English and fewer tourists were in sight. The area was more run down than the city, the cleanliness was subpar but renovations were happening down streets and we got a bargain breakfast of pastries for only 2 Euros, we can’t complain.

Anyway, back on track. Getting around. Our choice of transport in this city was the Metro. The stations are denoted on street level by a sign with a white M on a blue background. One thing to mention is that the Metro system in every city is exceptional – so far. Our Guide to the tram system. Admittedly it’s a little confusing at first, but the routes are displayed in straight coloured lines with dot points indicating each stop. So, as long as you know the destination you want, don’t freak out, take your time and read the lines until you see your stop. Which platform to be on is easy too because they will put one sign at two separate entrances and your particular stop will only be on one of them. A little tip: Google Maps is a literal lifesaver. It tells you step by step where to go and it will list your suggested stops.

All tickets purchased are valid for all public transport within Brussels including the tram, local city buses and Metro.

Ticket Price:

A single fare ticket is 2.10 Euros and valid for one hour from activation.

A full day is 7.50 Euros. Be careful with this one though as it is literally one day, it stops at midnight on the day of purchase.

If you are in town for a few days then a travel card may be of more interest to you. It is 5 Euros to purchase but you can top it up as needed. You can buy these form most Metro stations and you save up to 1 Euro per trip.

If you haven’t guessed already, Hayden and I elect to walk nearly everywhere we can. Yes, because it’s free, but also because this environment is completely new to us and we want to see every little bit. Walking gives us the freedom to make our own route, to stop where ever we want and admire every nook and cranny – and its Europe, so there’s many of those. Brussels is also a smaller city so the monuments, museums and galleries are all quite close to one another.

Food. A perk of staying outside of the main city is that it is cheaper than central. Le Familial is where we got our cheap pastries from. We ventured out for dinner on our first night at 5:45pm only to learn that most kitchens do not open until 6:30pm. Like I said in our last blog post, Europeans love their late starts and later finishes so definitely keep that in mind for your travels. We chose a restaurant/bar and ordered a couple of drinks to wait it out. Le Scenarios could also be slash night club because behind a makeshift wall was a small club with confetti all over the floor and tiny platforms for dancers. It turns out a lot of places replicate this same design so you are not short for options on a night out. For dinner we enjoyed some pasta dishes with a glass of red and a crepe covered in chocolate for dessert

We also had the best kebab shop down the road from our accommodation too. If you are a potato lover like me, you’ll die over the fact they put fries on them. But that’s not surprising considering that the potato frites (fried potatoes) originated in Belgium. We cannot remember our exact shop, but similar ones are everywhere. On that subject, you cannot miss tasting the fries, there will be a huge line, yes, but they are worth it. Thick chips with a perfectly crusted outer layer that crunches and exposes a fluffy inside. I learned that it’s because they deep fry the fries twice. They are perfect.

What to see.

Our walk started off at one of the higher points in the city and we worked our way down. We caught the Metro to Louise where we saw Palais de Justice or the Law Courts of Brussels. It was under construction when we visited but the mammoth craftsmanship was evident even behind the piles of scaffolding. We then walked over to the Infantry Memorial which was beautiful and daunting in its own right. Behind it was an incredible view of the city which also had an elevator to get down into the streets.

L’atelier en ville This place is a funky café that we thought was worth mentioning. It is a café, art gallery, clothes shop and wooden bench top store all in one. We later figured out this was the ‘hipster’ side to Brussels. So if you want a little more modern, less touristy, more artsy and more party, then this is the side of Brussels you want.

Mannekin Pis This little guy is one of the best-known landmarks in Belgium. The fun thing about the mannequin boy is that he is dressed in costume to commemorate each major celebration, event or festival. You can view all of his costumes displayed at the Museum of the City of Brussels. There are actually three little statues. One of a boy peeing, one of a girl (Jeanneke pis) and one of a dog (Zenneke). And a lot like Pokemon – you gotta catch them all, so keep your eyes peeled because they are not very big and can be around any corner.

Brussels Park There are many parks in Brussels, but this is the one we escaped into when the parade for the150 years of the tram in the city got a little too overwhelming. Its entrance is directly across from the Belgium House of Parliament too. The park is pictured below and it is incredibly busy due to the parade but it was still a nice park to be in.

Belgium Chocolate Village For 6 Euros per person, you are able to explore the Belgium Chocolate Museum. We found this self-guided tour extremely informative and delicious. We learnt about the history and process of gathering the cocoa beans, how chocolate is made, and where nearly every different style of chocolate originated from. We were able to stand in a class where the chef showed us how to create ganache chocolate, and yes, there was a taste test too. Some of our favourite moments was seeing the sculptures made out of chocolate, they were huge and the smell of cocoa was euphoric. It’s no wonder we finished our tour in the café upstairs to subdue the cravings. Hot chocolate that was made with frothed milk and chunks of dark chocolate was my poison, whereas Hayden stuck to a chocolate milkshake. However, if you are not interested in the museum and tour, that’s fine. There is a chocolate shop on nearly every block anyways. Plenty of opportunities to treat yourself.

There is plenty more to discover in Brussels, but what we were not prepared for was stumbling across a fun little parade. Just our luck. Labour Day and 150 years of the tram parade.

We continued on our walk with one destination in the back of our mind – Grand Place. It was almost humorous because I was asking Hayden to get photos of some trees because the branches were mended to create fences – honestly, I just thought they were cool. We walked alongside the tree fence around to the front and saw the most incredible looking building. I said ‘This has to be Grand place, or Kings Palace just look at the detail’. We tried to pinpoint where we were on the map to no avail. But alas, I spotted a young boy in a blue vest which symbolised he could help with information. We found out that no, this was definitely not Grand Place, instead it was Notre Dame du Sablon (Chuch of Our Blessed Lady of Sablon). A gothic-style Catholic church from the 15th century.

He went on to explain that we were standing in Rue de la Regence. The significance of this little street? It was lined with hundreds of trams. Why? Because the city was celebrating 150 years since the tram was introduced. There was every single model of tram that had ever been driven in Brussels laid out in order of year.

There was also going to be a parade beginning at 1400 hours. The trams were to be driven through the centre of the city. We walked past crowds of people, past a makeshift grandstand and behind it was at least 12 different food stalls. We got mojitos and fries and sat down to enjoy what was around us. By now we had been out for hours, and although I enjoy public things, I absolutely despise being in crowds, they just tire me out. I was ready to go home. I was a little disappointed we hadn’t seen Grand Place, but our day had been filled with so much excitement I was content.

We headed back down to Brussels Central Station ready to catch the Metro back home when we spotted an exceptionally busy street, so of course something had to be down that way. We garnered up the energy and made our way down. We stepped around the happy buskers, we admired the street markets and then we were left completely and utterly speechless... We had finally found Grand Place. And it is most definitely its namesake.

It’s incredible. A huge square that leaves you feeling minuscule. Gilded buildings that leave you feeling, well, poor. It is comprised of the Hotel de Ville (Brussels town hall) and Maison du Roi (Museum of the City of Brussels) famously facing one another and the Guild Houses completing the rest of the shape. There is detail in every little thing from the post lamps to the pillars, from the carved stonework to the gold decoration. Each building is so innately different but perfectly matching the grandness of their home. We literally spent an hour there, in that square, taking in each building, taking a million photos, looking up at the incredibleness of the Grandest place I’ve ever seen – so far ;). Being labour day, it was incredibly busy. Hundreds of people were in that square at the same time, but we never felt overcrowded. Now it was finally time to go. We had come to see what we had wanted to see. We walked back to the Metro and headed back to our beautiful Airbnb on the outer skirts of the town.

Always with love Trish

#brussels #grandplace #grotemarkt #travel #travelblog #europe #cities #eu #Haydenandtrish #trams #gold

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alongthebega · 2 years ago

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Sep 23: Aviatorilor Neighborhood/First Impressions

Hi everyone! This is my first post on the blog. I arrived in Bucharest on Tuesday the 20th, and have been getting my bearings since then. The title is currently misleading, since the Bega is the river in Timişoara. :)

My hotel for these first few days was provided by the program, in Aviatorilor, which is a fancy residential neighborhood where there are lots of embassies and old, ivy-covered houses.

I was aware ahead of time that Bucharest in particular is filled with monuments, but the extent to which statues are all over, even outside the center of town, has been really interesting.

Bucharest uses the city itself as a rhetorical tool, and the monuments I’ve seen so far have emphasized military might, a long history traced to the Roman empire, revolution against the Ceauşescu regime, and a literary/artistic culture with strong international connections (I don’t have pictures of these, but Parcul Herastrau has Shakespeare and Michael Jackson statues).

Aviatorilor, as you might expect, has a large monument for Romanian aviators at a roundabout, and the park nearby has a statue for the Romanian infantry.

Two other fun discoveries: Food Lion’s Romanian counterpart (I think of all the grocery stores I’d guess to have an international presence, that would be one of the last), and the stray cats that hang out by the hotel. There are a lot of strays, so you can find ads for cats to adopt all over. People put out food for them, though.

Although it’s very easy to get around on foot, by bike, or by metro, Bucharest is still very car-centric in its design, so that sometimes means walking on loud, wide streets. I did not regret my decision to not bother with an international driver’s license while walking around Arcul de Triumf — it’s as hectic as its French counterpart for sure.

French cultural influences are baked (like a delicious croissant) into the city. Aviatorilor, for example, is flanked by Arcul de Triumf and Piata Charles de Gaulle, and I ran into a street named after Emile Zola. France and Romania have always had a close connection: French was a language of the upper classes here, and knowledge of French definitely helps with some Romanian vocabulary. Romania is even a full member of La Francophonie!

The Charles de Gaulle connection in particular, however, seems to come from his visit to Romania and recognition of Ceauşescu, so there are signs of a very difficult part of Romania’s history, even in a square named after a foreign leader. I am very interested in learning more about how the all too recent difficult history of the 20th century in Romania is remembered here. So expect more on that later.

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parttimepadawan · 7 years ago

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Overtaken Pt. 3 (Hux x General!Reader)

A/N: I move back into my dorm room tomorrow T^T Blech. School. There will probably only be one or two more parts after this since I dove into it without thinking. Overtaken was originally meant to be a standalone, but now here I am with no plan. Oops.

Warnings: violence

Word count: 4438

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

As you spent the next few weeks living with Puffpuff, it became more and more clear that you should never become a parent. You spoiled the little thing absolutely rotten with trinkets, toys, and playsets all scattered about your quarters. You no longer held private meetings in your quarters, it had become so unprofessional.

“Look, mommy! I’m taller than you!” he cried from atop his tower that you’d ordered for him. It stretched nearly to the ceiling and was part of a network of tubes that worked their way throughout the room. It was a necessary purchase after you’d tripped over Puffpuff one too many times and nearly broke something.

“That’s great, squirt,” you said distractedly, tapping at your datapad while walking toward the door. It was the only pet name you would allow yourself for the little tyke, besides Puff. “Mommy has to go to work now. I’ll see you later, okay? Use your keypad if you need anything.” Reaching up and ruffling his fur once, you looked for your gloves before you could leave.

After several minutes of searching, they still hadn’t turned up. “Have you seen my gloves, Puff?” you asked. A whimper came from one of the towers in the room and you climbed up to peek in through a window. There sat Puffpuff, rubbing his face on your gloves, which he’d stashed away in a corner of his tower. You reached for them but his eyes stopped you.

“Can’t I keep them, mommy? You’re always gone,” he started, and he didn’t even need to finish before you gave in. You sighed and scratched under his chin.

“You know I’ll always come back, squirt,” you said. Had you really been neglecting him so much?

“But you’re gone for so long!” You hummed and frowned guiltily.

“Alright, squirt, you can keep them. But that’s it, okay? No more running off with my things.” He nodded and settled in on top of the gloves for a nap. You waited, and soon enough his breathing slowed and his eyes slipped shut.

You didn’t mind it so much since you had a spare pair of gloves. These were leather, unlike the soft fabric of the ones Puffpuff was currently sleeping on. You slipped them on and chuckled to yourself. You had no idea Hux’s hands were so small. Checking again to make sure everything was in place, you looked over at Puffpuff one last time before you left.

Your office was in a state of disarray. Papers scattered about your desk, trash can pulled out from under your desk to accommodate the growing pile of empty caf cups, and chair pushed away from your desk in a hurry. Just as you’d left it the night before. You laid your datapad down and tapped at the keypad on the wall to call for a droid to take out the trash and for another cup of caf. You had another long day ahead of you.

Competition in the workplace was never an especially fun experience, no matter who you were up against. You may not have had to worry about Tarkin after he’d botched his attempt at cornering the Rebels on his own, but Hux had been supervising your mission on Arbra, which left most if not all the credit for its success to him. With all reported Rebel activity on Arbra at a stop, you were now working with Hux to round up the ones that escaped Tarkin, and you were bent on getting the recognition you deserved.

At least, you would if they hadn’t done such a good job at hiding. The interrogators in charge of the Rebels captured on Arbra had gone trigger-happy, to both yours and Hux’s fury. You had half a mind to execute them for sabotage, but Hux had jurisdiction, being supervisor. Now with no one alive to tell you where the others could be, you were back to square one and working harder than you ever did as a lieutenant.

The trilling indication of a call coming in through your datapad rang through the room and you accepted it without looking up from your maps of the areas surrounding Crait. They couldn’t have gotten far without fuel, you hoped. The little blue hologram popped up in the corner of your vision with Lieutenant Ventra on the bridge as its centerpiece. From what you could see in his background, it was unusually busy.

“What is it, Ventra?” you asked. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“General Hux is here and requests your audience in conference room 26, ma’am.” Your hands stilled, the holomap still twirling in front of you with your finger on the button.

“Did he say why?” you asked impatiently. The man had been getting on your nerves lately, though that was nothing new. Ventra shook his head and you sighed, powering down the holomap. “Tell him I’m on my way.” You ended the call and slipped the datapad into your pocket, making your way to conference room 26.

Hux stood with his back to you when you entered, along with some of your advisors as well as his own. You frowned at him, not caring whether or not he saw. He was making it a habit to turn up on your ship unannounced and it was rather inconvenient more often than not, and now he’d dragged your staff into his shenanigans.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Hux?” you asked, hands behind your back as you walked up to him. He turned away from the window and regarded you with the same bored look as was usual.

“We have a lead,” was all he said, and all thoughts of snark and sarcasm were gone. You took a seat with him at the table and your advisors followed. One of Hux’s advisors projected a holomap into the air and the meeting began.

You wondered what they were trying to pull, hiding on a planet like Omwat. The large cities provided cover, sure, but why choose a planet with no clear alignment? You hoped that the Omwati would give them up, for clearly there was a lesson that needed to be taught. Hux went on to zoom in on the planet and point out which cities they would be searching first, the cities lighting up blue on the green holomap as he listed them. Your brows furrowed. There were too many.

“We don’t have the men to cover all these cities at once, General,” you cut in. Much of the fleet was preoccupied keeping their eyes on other planets, other safe havens for the Rebels. The only infantries left available for this assignment were Hux’s and your own. You didn’t like spreading your troops out as thinly as this was going to require.

“I assure you, General L/N, that the number of men in our combined fleets will be more than enough to carry out this mission,” he said. “Your anxieties have no ground here.” You frowned.

“Underestimating the enemy is a mistake we cannot afford to make here. These are large industrial cities with natives that are just as likely to side with the Rebels as they are to side with us. The number of men we have will not suffice to lay these uncertainties to rest,” you said. You looked to your advisors for backup, but they seemed to side with Hux on this one.

“With all due respect, ma’am, the chances of your worries coming to fruition are considerably low. There is much more to gain in its success than there is to lose in the case of its failure.” After that advisor had spoken, several more chimed in, all in agreement to go through with the plan. With yourself being the only one against the plan, its execution was agreed upon and the meeting adjourned.

“Leave the map,” you said to Hux’s advisor, who had been readying to shut it down. He nodded and left the room with the others, while you stayed where you were seated to rove over it again. It was a large planet with large cities, the perfect setting for an ambush at every possible turn. Any one squad picked off in the cities would have very slim chances of defending themselves. With your already small sector of the fleet, you weren’t keen on losing any of your infantry.

You heard footsteps coming up behind you, but didn’t look back. “This information is new, L/N. Chances of ambush are slim at best. Even if one or two does occur, stormtroopers are replaceable.” Your fist stayed where it was at your chin, partly covering your mouth. He didn’t get it. His stormtroopers were replaceable. With all of the recognition he’s gotten for his work, he had advantages that you didn’t. Your troops were finite, and with nothing even close to Starkiller Base under your belt, so were your resources. If you lost something, it was gone.

With nothing in reply from you, Hux left quietly. The door hissed shut behind him as you continued to mull your options over in your head. You had heard of the Omwati before, come across them in your studies. They weren’t like the Hoojibs; as adorable as they were, they were but intelligent rodents. The Omwati were a proud race equal to humans, as much as humans didn’t want to admit it. The only real difference between an Omwati and a human was that an Omwati had feathers on their head instead of hair. They built cities, they had language and culture, they had the same complex thought process. All this meant that you would be unable to guess their every move.

With no other choice, you plugged your schedule for the mission into your datapad. Your men would be put into larger groups, but leave earlier than Hux’s to cover the ground they were assigned. You just hoped it was enough to keep your fears from coming to life. Tapping once more to confirm your schedule, you shut off both your datapad and the holomap and headed to the bridge.

By the time you arrived, the hustle and bustle had died down, almost as if it had never happened. At your arrival, Lieutenant Ventra approached, visibly nervous.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted. He was strangely distracted, acknowledging your greeting but not offering more, though he hovered relentlessly. “State your business, Lieutenant. My patience runs thin today.”

He straightened up considerably and stuttered an apology. “Th– There was a call to the bridge for you during your meeting with General Hux. It was from General Tarkin to inform you of your upcoming assignment on Omwat.” You nodded.

“I am aware of the assignment. You may return to your post, Lieutenant,” you said. Ventra nodded and scurried off. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and you trudged into your quarters, still wondering if there were some way to heighten your men’s chances of making it off of Omwat without incident.

You readied yourself for bed seemingly on autopilot as Puffpuff watched from his perch outside the door of the refresher. He hopped down from his tower when you came out, racing to the bed and curling up on his corner of the blanket. You still worried, but your fears were eased some at the sight of Puffpuff. He wouldn’t be leaving the Subjugator, you knew, and that was a comfort in itself.

You reached out and he came closer, pushing his face into your palm. You sat cross-legged and pulled him into your lap. He settled and you watched as he played with your hands, wiggling your fingers at him to make him laugh. The game lasted only for a moment before Puffpuff pressed down on your hands and looked up at your face.

“Something happened.” It wasn’t a question. You shook your head.

“No, not really. I have a mission in a few days or so, but that’s not something for you to worry about,” you said. You still spoke out loud to him, despite learning some time ago that you could speak to him telepathically as he did to you. “How was your day?” You knew you would receive the same answer you always did, but you asked all the same. You let the sound of Puffpuff’s voice as he rattled off all the toys he played with lull you to sleep, still sitting and leaning against the wall.

The days leading up to your assignment on Omwat passed far too quickly for your liking. Caught up in all your duties, you hardly had the time to mull over the assignment, and you were forced to send your troops out as planned. You were to once again handle negotiations with the councilman in their capital city, with Hux acting as supervisor for both his troops and yours in your absence.

You sat alone in your transport, sipping at a cup of tea that had long gone cold. With extra security measures on Omwat, each transport had to be inspected before gaining clearance to land on the planet proper. You massaged your temples, desperate for something to do. Sitting still had you thinking again and you didn’t like it one bit.

Abandoning your tea entirely, you watched through the window as the ground approached and the ship shook slightly upon landing. You watched your datapad as you disembarked, waiting for your squads to check in. One ping after another sounded as each squad reported landing and you gave orders to hold until all had been accounted for.

Within the hour, all squads had been dispatched among the three cities you were assigned with orders to report to Hux until further notice. You yourself roamed the capital city in search of your guide who was to bring you to the councilman. You drew more than a few sets of eyes, being the only recognizable human, and with a squad of stormtroopers surrounding you on all sides. You glanced over the hustle and bustle of the crowd around you, unable to tell one blue face apart from another, the multitude of colored feathers passing you by, their gazes lingering on you for much longer than yours on any one of them.

“General L/N!” You perked up, turning around to find where the voice was coming from. An Omwati with red feathers sprouting from his head pushed his way through the crowd to get to you and your squad holstered their blasters at your signal. You greeted him when he finally reached you, clearly out of breath.

“You must be my guide,” you said, and the Omwati nodded. He pointed off to a large building some ways away.

“The High Councilman is awaiting your arrival at the consulate. Please, follow me,” he said and started walking at a much more relaxed pace. The consulate was sturdy and large, with the same imposing air as a fortress. You felt oddly nervous just looking at it. Once within the consulate, the guide led you through a series of twists and turns, so many that you’d lost track. This, combined with the unwelcoming atmosphere of the building in general, set you even more on edge. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and you were left at a door. The guide left quickly and you were left to knock hesitantly.

“Come in,” you heard from a gruff voice behind the door. Upon your entrance, the councilman rose, looking much more welcoming than he sounded. “Ah, General L/N! Welcome to Omwat! I trust you were taken care of on your way here?” he said. You nodded, and shook his offered hand. He pulled out your chair for you and you thanked him graciously, but he seemed displeased somehow.

“I’m afraid I must ask that your guards place their weapons on the table at the side of the room,” he said, eyeing them distrustfully. Ignoring his obvious distaste, you agreed, motioning for them to do as he asked. Once disarmed, they returned to their place standing behind you, all under the watchful eye of the councilman’s own guards. You noticed that they also appeared unarmed, which set you a little more at ease. The councilman took his seat across from you and the meeting began.

Part of the way through the meeting, you’d pulled your datapad out from your pocket and projected a holomap of Omwat to use as a visual aid. “There have been accounts of Rebel activity in the southern corners of Milledge and Vexham, the northern edges of Canport and Gaffrath, and in the centers of Yhonio, Azul, and Botol.” As the councilman spoke, you placed digital markers in the areas he listed. When you were done, you noticed that all the markers were spaced far apart, circling the entire planet in a wide net.

You frowned to yourself, not liking the circumstances. With your troops spread this far apart, reinforcements were never going to be able to assist in the case of an ambush. Perhaps you could convince Hux to order a transfer of troops to strengthen your numbers. “Is something wrong, General?” the councilman asked. You shook your head.

“No, nothing that is of any fault of yours,” you said, and stood from your seat. “I thank you for your cooperation, High Councilman. In exchange, I give you my word that my troops’ activity will be heavily restricted to the areas you have identified, your people’s safety in our time here, and three metric tons of durasteel, as promised.”

“It was a pleasure doing–” Before the High Councilman could finish his sentence, an alarm rang from your datapad, signaling an urgent message. The name Tarkin flashed brightly on its screen and you were not the only one to notice. By the time you processed how quickly the councilman’s mouth turn downward, he had already barked his orders in Omwatese to his guards.

Without time to reach for your own weapons, you and each of your guards were incapacitated and bound. Pressed against the table, cheek flush against your datapad, the alarm still ringing loudly in your ear and the brightness of it forcing you to close one eye, you glowered darkly. Your eyes met that of the councilman.

“What is the meaning of this?” you growled with bared teeth. The councilman’s jaw tightened and he looked down his nose at you when he muttered another order to his guards, once again in Omwatese.

You were taken to a detention center in another part of the city, each of your troops held in a different cell. You had no way of telling how much time had passed, and your guess was likely as reliable as a bantha’s. Your outrage kept you from keeping proper track and with your belongings confiscated, you had no way of calling for help. You passed your time with loud outbursts of rage and kicks against the clear walls of your cell. You ignored the eyes of your squad watching as you lost control of yourself for the first time since they’d been assigned to guard you.

Eventually the councilman came to fetch you himself with two of his guards by his side. He had a smug look on his face at the sight of you, and you supposed you would have too if your roles had been reversed. It had been some time since you’d let anyone see you in a state as bad as the one you were currently in. Your hair was in complete disarray, having run your hands through it many times over, your teeth were bared and gritted so tight you feared they might crack, and your eyes no doubt resembled that of a cornered beast. This was a low you’d never wanted to reach again.

“Come with me, General,” the councilman said in Basic, and gave a command to his guards in Omwatese. With a pair of magnetic cuffs locking your wrists together, you were led into a room with solid walls and no windows, the only door slamming shut behind you. Your wrists were secured to a chain above your head and it was yanked up so you were forced to stand on your toes. You shut your eyes. You knew where this was heading.

“Tell me, snake,” the councilman started, and you met his eyes defiantly. “What does Tarkin want with our planet? Surely his father before him has done enough.” You licked your lips, your throat dry from yelling at nothing all that time in your cell.

“I told you everything during our meeting. We are only here to capture the Rebels as enemies of the state, nothing more,” you said. Your voice came out a little raspy and you inwardly winced. You’d definitely overdone it in your cell. You barely saw his hand twitch before the chain was yanked up higher, stretching your arms uncomfortably with the tips of your boots barely scraping the floor.

“Liar,” the councilman hissed. “Tell me, has he come to continue what his father started?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not affiliated with the Galactic Empire. I am a general of the First Order.” Perhaps not for much longer, you thought darkly. “I don’t know what Wilhuff Tarkin has done to your people in the past, but General Vilert Tarkin and myself share the same goals; the ones I made clear in our negotiations.” Already your arms tingled, and your shoulders were uncomfortably stiff. The councilman scoffed and in the next moment you had the wind knocked out of you with a blow to the side. The cry that left you was more out of surprise than any actual pain, but it satisfied him all the same.

A guard at your side stood with a large rectangular piece of what appeared to be steel. If you didn’t feel any pain now, you would soon. He drew back and you readied yourself for the second blow. The councilman caught your flinch and held up a hand. “Are you ready to tell the truth?”

“I have been telling the truth.” The hand came down. The steel hit harder this time, and your side was engulfed in waves of pain, pulsing in and out while you tried to get the air back into your lungs.

You were offered no further breaks in between beatings. They continued relentlessly and you grew weaker with each one, now no longer even able to stand on your own two feet. The chain had been lowered in a small act of mercy to allow you to rest on your knees after the councilman had gone some time ago. “Let my men know when you’re ready to confess,” he said, “and I will return to save you.”

On his way out, you raised three fingers, the sign he gave you to use when you wanted to confess. The guards flagged for his attention and he turned back. “Yes, General?” The look on his face was of such sadistic self-pleasure that it sent a shiver even up your own spine. You met his eyes regardless.

“Good luck getting anything out of me, High Councilman,” you said, spitting out his title. All smugness left him and darkened over. He gave a nod to continue and left, the door slamming shut once more behind him.

And so the beatings continued, both sides of you covered in bruises. It hurt to even hold yourself up now and your muscles ached with each time you moved in the slightest. You met the guards’ eyes, and noted just how young they were, still young enough to let the guilt show on their faces. Not a trace of the dark pleasure you saw in the councilman could be found in his guards and you smiled weakly.

“Do you have someone coming for you?” one of them whispered after another blow. By now you had gone limp. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and let yourself bow toward the floor to save your muscles the pain of supporting your weight. “Ma’am, are you still conscious?”

You nodded, sighing deeply. “No. No one’s coming for me.” Your voice was much softer than it was when you first came in the room, and the guards frowned in response. “What time is it?” you asked, and were answered with the news that it was now late afternoon; the sun had not yet start to set. “No one is coming for me,” you confirmed to yourself.

You relaxed your neck and let your head fall forward again, letting yourself fall into your thoughts. No one knew that you had been captured; they likely thought that your negotiations had gone on for much longer than planned. That or they didn’t care. You thought back to Arbra, the last time you had been put in charge of negotiations and wondered how there could be such a stark contrast between two events that were supposed to be identical. No longer even able to look at you, the guards left the room. You felt a sense of relief at that; it was a mercy for you to keep your pitiful state to yourself.

As the door shut, the chain holding your wrists went slack and you landed on your side, drawing another weak scream out of you. You rolled onto your back, but the damage was done and you could feel your entire body throb. You panted through your teeth and hoped that the pain would ebb through sheer willpower. You had no such luck, but your blessings came to you when you heard voices outside the door and two blaster shots. The door hissed open and in stepped the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

On Hux’s command, a stormtrooper uncuffed you and carried you with an arm under your knees and another around your back. As a frightened Omwati led you out of the labyrinth that was the consulate, you peered up at Hux, walking beside you. He met your gaze and raised a brow.

“How is my squad?” you asked weakly. You could feel yourself falling asleep now that you were in the safety of your comrades’ care.

“Alive. All accounted for.” That was all you needed to hear. You smiled and breathed a soft ‘good’ before letting yourself slip into unconsciousness, swaying in the stormtrooper’s arms.

You woke up again briefly, now feeling much colder. With your eyes still shut, you could feel yourself being lowered, your feet dipping into something warm. Before your head was submerged, you felt a hand stroke your cheek softly and a warm breath drift across your face. Then it was dark again.

#armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #armitage hux #general hux #armitage hux imagine #general hux imagine #hux imagine #armitage hux fanfic #general hux fanfic #hux fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars reader insert #reader insert #fanfic #my writing #overtaken

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ma-bien-aimee · 7 years ago

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Why does Oscar choose to live her life as a man?

The anime of The Rose of Versailles starts off very differently from the manga. The pilot episode introduces Oscar and features the events that lead to her decision to wear the military uniform and become Commander of the Royal Guards, charged with protecting Marie-Antoinette.

The act of donning the uniform symbolises that Oscar decides to leave aside her womanhood once and for all and to lead the rest of her life as a man. The episode emphasizes the fact that Oscar consciously chooses her path after much soul-searching. However, it does not explain how Oscar finally makes her decision or why she makes that particular decision. Here, I will attempt to fill in those blanks.

Disclaimer: The anime scripts have been taken from the subtitles in the North American DVD release by Right Stuf, via Nozomi Entertainment.

The manga scanlations are made by me based on the original Japanese text and the official French translation. They are bound to be clumsy as English is not my mother tongue and as I am not proficient in either Japanese or French. Having thus broken all the rules of the translation world, I hope I was able to convey the gist of the meaning enough to make my point.

Needless to say, The Rose of Versailles is copyright Riyoko Ikeda. I don’t have any claim over the story, characters, manga, anime, designs, etc. These stills and script from the anime, and scans from the manga, are featured here for only for the purpose of providing insight into the subject matter I am attempting to analyse in this post.

***

So why does Oscar choose to live her life as a man?

Like every young heir being prepared for a military career, I suppose that Oscar was engrained with a notion of what an ideal man is from childhood. In episode 28 ("André, a Green Lemon"), she alludes to this ideal:

In this scene, after riding her horse to exhaustion to let out her frustration, Oscar brings her mount to back to the stable, followed by André. Her eye catches her name scratched on the wall.

OSCAR

Do you remember these scratch marks on this the wall?

ANDRE

Yeah, I remember. It was around the time when I first came to this manor. It’s the scratch marks from us measuring our height.

OSCAR

That was 23 years ago. I didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that I was a boy back then. I still hadn’t known what love or falling in love meant.

OSCAR

I was brought up as a man. There’d be nothing strange if I lived the rest of my life, even more so, as a man. That’s why I’m going to leave the Royal Guards. I want to live as a man! Being a woman… These emotions… I want to forget it all! I want a mission that only a man could do! I couldn’t care less if I were an infantry soldier! I want to carry a gun, cross the river and fight the enemy! I want my days to be spent risking my life in the line of duty, without love or romance! I want to live more like a man! I’m going to return to those days, when I believed I was a boy. I swear, I will!

This scene gives us an idea about Oscar’s perception of the ideal man: a tough, strong, duty-bound soldier who dedicates himself to fighting the enemy and has no room for anything else in his life.

Also in this scene, Oscar admits to herself that she hasn’t been able to live up to this ideal. She fell in love with Fersen and was later heartbroken. She blames her womanhood, which she regards as a weakness, for straying from this ideal and strives to get back on track. She believes that once she achieves this ideal, everything will be all right and she won’t suffer anymore.

Then in episode 30 (“You’re the Light, I’m the Shadow”), General Jarjayes tearfully admits to Oscar that he regrets his decision to raise her daughter as his son because it caused her to face unnecessary hardships, and asks for her forgiveness. Evidently not expecting such an emotional outburst from her father, Oscar is momentarily taken aback. Then, she sits back in her chair and plucks out a single white rose from the vase in front of her. As she distractedly pulls off the petals of the rose, she calmly says, “Father, please don’t worry. I didn’t abandon my womanhood as much as you think. I even fell madly in love as a woman once. In fact, I’m very grateful to you, Father. Because you raised me as a man, I’m able to forget everything and live strongly.”

Here, Oscar’s calm acknowledgment of her femininity is in stark contrast to her fervent assertions back in episode 28. She seems to have calmed down and to be more at peace with her womanhood. However, the reason why I wanted to mention this scene here is the bit about ‘forgetting about everything else and living stronger.’

I think what Oscar means by it is that her upbringing as a man has allowed her to better cope with the hardships in her life. She can take action or has the resources to take action in the face of conflict because she was raised as a man, while if she had been raised as a woman, she would have been helpless to take action or she would have had to ask a man to do so in her stead.

Take the duel with the Duke de Guéméné. The cruel Duke catches a poor little boy in the slums of Paris, trying to steal his money. Rosalie pleads with him to forgive the child this once as he attempted theft because he hadn’t eaten in days. The Duke seemingly forgives the boy, but then shoots him in the back, killing him instantly. Witnessing the scene, Oscar is outraged. She doesn’t issue a challenge right away, but she certainly taunts the Duke. Perhaps since the Duke’s rank is higher than Oscar’s, he could refuse Oscar’s challenge to a duel and she didn’t want to risk that.

If Oscar were raised as a woman, I’m guessing that it would be more difficult for her to stand up to the Duke, who would then have to challenge her father or her husband to a duel.

Although we are talking about the anime here, I thought the manga could provide some insight as well. In chapter 6 (“The Burning Flames of Revolution”), Oscar again thanks her father for raising her as a man and says to him something along the lines of how being raised the way she was has allowed her to live as a human being in this vast world in the midst of the foolish struggles of humans, although she was born female. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but this is what I could come up with.

As much as it is sad, Oscar has got a point about how being raised as a man allowed her to live as a ‘human being,’ as if women are not humans. Even today, the women’s rights movement worldwide is still trying to establish the most basic notion that women are human beings just like men are.

The scene continues with Oscar saying to General Jarjayes, “I don’t have regrets anymore. From now on, I will live as the child of Mars, the God of War, and dedicate myself to my sword and pistol. I will live my life as a soldier.” This statement mirrors the one she makes above in episode 28.

However, it is important to note that, in the manga, Oscar’s confrontation with her father takes place after the mob attack in Paris, meaning after Oscar realises for the first time that she might harbour feelings for André. It also takes place after Girodelle confronts Oscar squarely, asking her without preliminaries if she is in love with André, to which she responds by saying, “I don’t know.”

This tells me that although she has realised that she might have feelings for André, she has no intention of acting on them. Until she can’t help herself anymore, after seeing how André is willing to sacrifice himself for her in the famous incident with General Jarjayes’ attempt to punish Oscar for her disobedience.

Judging from the way Oscar has carried with her this dedication to walk the path of the duty-bound soldier well into her adult years, General Jarjayes must have done everything he can to make sure his daughter aspired to become this ideal man.

I imagine that spending fourteen years, devoid of almost any female influence, being trained and preached to be a soldier would have a lasting effect on any young girl, for lack of knowing any better, if for nothing else. I don’t think Oscar grew up with any female role models around. She wouldn’t even be able to imagine a life spent as a woman for herself. Just look at how shocked she is when, as an adult, she realizes that if her father hadn’t decided to raise her as his son, her life would have been just like her sisters’.

With her upbringing, the fourteen-year-old Oscar would have rebelled fiercely against being constricted to the traditional gender roles of the time for women.

Note that Oscar does rebel, as an adult, when General Jarjayes has a sudden change of heart and decides to marry Oscar off. But her rebellion is tinged with sadness because she has already known as a woman what it is like to fall hopelessly in love with a man. Then, with good reason, she asks herself this question:

On the other hand, Oscar is a headstrong, stubborn and rebellious character, a fighter in spirit. Even if she were raised as a woman, I believe that she would have resisted just as fiercely against being forced into any traditional role for women if she didn’t want it herself.

[EDIT 27/01/2018]: Take this particular (watercolour!) scene from chapter 5 (“Oscar’s Suffering”). When patrolling the grounds of Versailles with the French Guards one night, Oscar runs into Fersen, obviously returning from a secret assignation with Marie-Antoinette (Just ignore the strip with Alain and the other guards). After getting over the initial shock of seeing him after such a long time, Oscar sends him safely on his way. Then, her mind wanders to Marie-Antoinette and to the fact that the queen doesn’t have the freedom to take control over her own life. By her own admission, Oscar can’t imagine herself in her shoes.

[/EDIT]

However, if Oscar were raised as a woman, I imagine that her resistance to conform with what is expected of her would not be deemed legitimate or, let’s say, would be deemed less legitimate, because she is already born and raised as a woman, not born as a woman but raised as a man.

Knowing herself, perhaps Oscar thought that living her life as a man would better suit her independent personality. Perhaps she finally chose to lead her life as a man because she thought that it would give her a lot more freedom that she wouldn’t have had as a woman.

One can then, of course, question how much freedom she had as a man, as a duty-bound soldier, compared to how much freedom she would have had as a woman, as a lady of the court. Needless to say, Oscar, as a man, isn’t free to abandon her military duties or break her allegiance to the crown of France, let alone join the revolutionists. What I mean by freedom in this context is that Oscar, as a man, has the right to have an opinion and is asked for her opinion. She can make her own decisions, as well as decisions that will affect others. She behaves with confidence among other men, knowing that they accept her as one of them, as their equal. She also has freedom of movement without needing a chaperone, thus she spends more time outdoors and leads a more active life. The list goes on.

In conclusion, the answer to the question of why Oscar finally chose to lead her life as a man has lain in Oscar’s own words all along: At the end of episode 1 “Oscar, the Destiny of the Rose,” she tells her father in her mind that she has chosen this path not for him or for anyone else, but for herself only. Oscar decides that she can be more “herself” if she lived as a man.

#oscar françois de jarjayes #rose of versailles #berusaiyu no bara #lady oscar #gender #choice #man or woman #analysis #versailles no bara

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goobey · 7 years ago

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slow and steady

The civil war had cost Ravka greatly and there was much work to be done the first few months after the destruction of the Shadow Fold. Trade lines had to be re-established, towns had to be reconstructed, and relief teams had to be sent to help with the damage at Os Kervo; not to mention the mountain of work that would soon be necessary to rebuild the Second Army if Ravka were to have any chance against insurgents and Fjerda looking to exploit its political instability. This was more than enough reason for why he hasn't seen much of Alina, Nikolai reasoned. After all, he was just as busy as she was. They had been working non stop from the minute their hasty little wedding ceremony ended (the Kerch wouldn't have taken too kindly for loaned money to be wasted on a party, would they?). Grisha or not, Alina was still leader of the Second Army and any moment away from the Triumvirate was a moment wasted. He understood, he really did - Nikolai himself couldn't catch a minute to himself between council meetings and paperwork. However, he got the distinct feeling that even in the rare moments they were both free, Alina was hesitant to be around him. Again, this was only natural - losing Mal was bound to be devastating for her and she probably wanted space to sort out her feelings. And it was useless to deny that the shadow of the Darkling hung over both of them. He still spent sleepless nights haunted by his memories of merzost, and whatever complicated relationship Alina had had with the Darkling, her killing him had clearly affected her. He understood all these things, but he still wished that Alina had talked to him about them instead of burying herself in her responsibilities. As suave and carefree as he liked to appear, he had insecurities too. If nothing else, they had been good friends during the war, hadn't they? Did she not trust him now? He was probably overthinking this anyway. The most important things right now were Ravka and his people. He would worry about this later.

'I am taking you there right now, you fool. Anyone who thinks pickled herring is acceptable for the palace kitchens to make has obviously never eaten the damned thing!' Alina huffed as she dragged the king of Ravka down a flight of stairs like a sack of grain. 'You certainly have strong opinions about food for someone who nearly ate week old soup, fly and all' said Nikolai when he finally got to catch his breath. 'That was ONE TIME! And it didn't have flies in it and you know that because it'd been left for you when you skipped dinner for paperwork again. Genya was ready to cut us that day.' Nikolai laughed. 'Alright, it's been established that we're both terrible slobs at taking care of ourselves. Now where is this infamous herring?' They might have been overworking themselves these few months, but Alina didn't look too bad. In fact, he quite enjoyed seeing her so animated. They'd managed some polite conversation this week which, knowing Nikolai, didn't stay polite for too long. It was mainly just banter about trivial things, but it was a start. He was relieved, to be honest. He'd grown up seeing how his parents had treated each other and he knew that royal marriages were lucky if they had some resemblance of cordiality. Nikolai had long since given up hopes of romance in his life, so it was a pleasant surprise that he could be friendly with Alina again. It was enough.

As Ravka settled into their reign, Nikolai and Alina had began spending more time together - public appearances, strategy meetings, diplomatic missions. Some nobles at court frowned at the tsar and tsarina doing things best left to lowly bureaucrats, but they believed a hands-on way of governing was what the country needed after centuries of negligence from the Lantsovs. Something was different these days though. Nikolai noticed it every time Alina poked his cheek or nudged him with her shoulder. Obviously, friends as good as they'd become would be casually physical with each other, but it still made him feel curiously warm. Maybe it was because no one had ever befriended him so matter-of-factly. However hard he’d tried to be approachable as a prince, his friends in the infantry had still hesitated with him. Even his crew were comfortable with him only because they knew him as Sturmhond, not Nikolai. Of course, there could be another reason that he liked Alina's familiarity so much, but he wasn't going to think about that. She'd started letting her hand linger on his arm even after the necessary royal posing was over, and it felt nice. Why complicate a simple feeling like that?

'Moi tsar! We've been looking for you! What have -’ The guard shut up abruptly at Nikolai’s glare. 'Don’t wake her up! Tell whoever's searching that I'll be with them shortly’ he said. 'No need, I see how absolutely busy you are, moi tsar’ a voice sounded from behind the guard. Genya gave what could only be called an evil grin. Nikolai was in a room off the royal library with papers strewn all around, sitting still with the utmost care so he wouldn't wake Alina from his shoulder. 'How long have you been here like this?’ 'Five minutes! We were looking through crime records, and it isn’t exactly the most riveting work’ he said. 'Queen Alina’s been asleep for half an hour’ Tamar called from her post at the door. 'Oh shut up, both of you’ Nikolai scowled at the two laughing Grisha. The guard smiled nervously and inched away. 'What had become of the dashing ladies man? Our charming pirate king? No sassy comments now?’ Nikolai rolled his eyes. 'It’s privateer and you can all get lost now.’ Genya really was ridiculous sometimes.

'We’ll be leaving for Kerch in a week. My dazzling personality ought to cheer up those refugee Grisha quite a bit, don't you think?’ Nikolai was in his private chambers, getting ready for yet another meeting on jurda parem. Alina was sprawled in a chair, reading out from a report on a frankly incredible heist pulled off in the Fjerdan Ice Court. 'Of course, they can't know that their beloved king has come in person. It would do Ravka no good if the world hears that their king went mucking about in Ketterdam’s canals. Really, that place is a swamp, you should see it when -’ 'I stopped listening at 'dazzling personality’’ Alina stretched and leapt out of the chair. To his surprise, she swat his hands away from his cravat and started tying it herself. He was speechless for a moment, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides when she finally looked up at him. 'Be safe. I know you'll have Genya and Zoya and Tamar and everyone else, but I want you to promise me that you'll return safe. Sturmhond might be a big fan of taking wild risks, but King Nikolai has a responsibility to his people. Besides, I need you here, Mr. Too-Clever Fox’ she said. 'I….wait, Mr. What?’ Nikolai spluttered. 'Just say it!’ 'Alright, I promise.’ He couldn't look away from her serious eyes. Time seemed to have frozen into just that one moment with Alina's hands on his chest and his heart beating wildly under them. 'We’re starting in ten minutes, you two!’ Zoya’s voice drawled from the corridor. As they all made their way to the council chambers, she whispered 'You actually let her tie your cravat crooked?’ 'Hmm?’ Nikolai responded absently. Zoya snorted. He was practically glowing. 'Sobachka indeed’

The moonlight glinted off the gilded railings of the balcony. Nikolai leaned against a pillar, flexing his fingers. They were still deeply scarred. In another world, he would've mourned how gruesome they looked, but he had far worse things to worry about than his vanity. The merzost had left some permanent residue inside him. He could feel it stirring sometimes, whispering cruel things in his head. The scariest thing was that now he didn't know if these thoughts were from the merzost or if they were his own. Either way, it was equally disturbing. Who was he anymore? 'I still miss my powers, you know. I wake up earlier now so that I catch every drop of sunlight in a day. It helps, but it's not the same. It'll never be.’ Alina walked up to him, twining her fingers through his. 'It feels like I'm incredibly ungrateful when I miss it. We saved thousands of lives - that's an excellent trade off for my powers. But I still regret it sometimes, and that's okay. The same way it's okay for you to miss who you were before the….before what he did to you.’ Nikolai sighed. 'I used to feel invulnerable - I didn't realise how much I relied on that. Sometimes I want to go back to how I was so badly. All I do now is feel anxious and second guess myself. Is it me or the merzost making a decision? Is there even a difference anymore?’ Alina traced the dark lines on his hands. He caught his breath as she pressed her lips to his knuckles. 'We are not our powers. I am still the Sun Summoner without them, and you are still you with the merzost. We have to believe this.’ The moonlight made her hair glow. Nikolai felt his mouth go dry as he tucked it behind her ear. ‘Thank you’ As they went back inside, he quietly wondered when he had fallen in love with his wife.

'Let me through.’ The throng of courtiers and Grisha immediately fell silent and parted for their tsarina. Nikolai barely had the time to look up when a hand slapped him square in the face. 'How dare you do something this stupid! Who told you to go into the woods alone?’ He tried to explain, but her face left him bewildered. Alina was crying. It wasn't even a big deal, really. He had gone to check on some frontier towns in the north and had happened to be out of hearing distance of his guards when he’d been ambushed by a few Fjerdan soldiers. They didn't know who he was, or he'd have gotten worse than a wounded shoulder in the fight. 'Alina-’ It didn't matter what he said next, since she conveniently cut him off with a furious kiss. The others looked away awkwardly at first, but they had to intervene when Nikolai strained his shoulder further by trying to lift her off her feet. Good thing too, because as Zoya later said, it was all 'sufficiently sappy enough without Nikolai’s theatrics thrown in’. There would be all the time in the world for that.

#Mal dies in the shadow fold #for good #my writing #nikolina #the grisha trilogy #nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #post canon #canon divergence #fluff #friends to lovers #slow burn #kind of

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