#like most of the regiments would have like a major or captain in charge

[vyingeyes]

I believe in my heart of hearts that there are five clones per squad in Star Wars. Yes, I am using Domino Squad as my lone supporting evidence. They are arguably the most definitive example of a standard CT squad we get (at least in the TCW show).

According to Wookieepedia, though, this does not add up. The wiki claims that each corps had 36,864 troopers to be led. This, notably, does not divide by 5. It does divide by 4, but why would Domino Squad be the outlier? I find it much easier to justify why the canonical 4-trooper squads (specifically the Bad Batch and Delta Squad) would have 4 members rather than a "standard" 5. And contrary to all of this, the wiki purports the idea of each squad having nine members. Which... Yes, that adds up, but the idea of ALL THREE OF THE AFOREMENTIONED SQUADS being outliers somehow drives me up the wall.

Instead, I propose a corps of 40,960 troopers. Each corps has 16 regiments (each being 2,560 troopers). Each regiment has 4 battalions (of 640 troopers), and each battalion has 4 companies (individually 160 troopers). This is where we get into the units that we're more familiar with—such as Ghost Company and Torrent Company. Breaking the companies up gives us 4 platoons, such as the one headed by Waxer. Here is where I step out again from the trenches of division and multiplication.

I want a division between Platoons and Squads. This is where my "Units" come in. A unit is two squads squished together. Unlike a squad or a platoon, which are static, a unit might be a combination of clones best suited for the assignment at hand. Units would be referred to as their squad names combined (ie "Green-Crown Unit", "Orbit-Nexu Unit") and the mix-and-match nature would allow skills to be better distributed for the needs of the clones within. You could pair a squad with a medic with a squad that's going to be under heavy fire, or a squad with a heavy gunner can be put with a squad that needs to be covered while they try to help retrieve the wounded from the field.

There would be two "heads" of a unit, since each squad would have a single squad lead. Rather than pick between the two, they would be expected to work together and coordinate their squad members together.

A platoon would be 4 units, or 40 troopers in total.

EDIT 8/27: This just got reblogged again and for anyone interested I have made a few tiny changes based on some reblogs (which I did not see soon enough to reply to meaningfully). For one thing, I agreed with the comment that it's stupid to not have something between Corps and Regiments. In come Divisions. As far as I can tell (from Wookieepedia and memory, because I'm not going through every episode to fact check for a niche military unit type) Divisions were Not really used consistently in TCW era. For my worldbuilding purposes, a division is 1/4 of a corps and composed of 4 regiments. Every day George Lucas makes me do more work. Someone needs to pay me for doing math in my free time.

Also, I think there's been a good bit of critique on my idea of units having two leaders. I use the term "leader" very loosely. In terms of actual power, they have none. They're in charge of keeping their squads on task and coordinating with each other; some squads will naturally have chemistry with others, especially if they've worked together before, but for squads that don't get along, think of them as supervisors connecting two different work branches. Their only special job is to make sure the ACTUAL jobs (determined by higher ups [Lieutenants, Captains, Commanders, etc etc]) is done.

I liked the bit of commentary on backend workers (In TCW, this would include the troopers we see on the bridge of the Venators or in the security rooms in prison, etc) but I do think they're just specialized squads/platoons/etc. I do not have the willpower to give them any sort of special category in my already incredibly twisting Obsidian vault.

Also, the question of "how long did this take?": I am an English major :') Math is hard. Many hours. Many separate days. I am still changing it when it seems unrealistic. I have no actual military experience so a lot of research is involved. I THINK my numbers are approximately comparable to Life but I may be wrong. Sometimes I'll be writing and go "wow, this is bad" and then have to clarify ANOTHER section of unexplored worldbuilding. Why did you do this to me, George? Save me Dave Filoni.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n

Ch-28 ~Boy under the guise~

Anaya realized that her, Alina and Mal were the only ones with an utterly shocked expression. None of the crew members seemed remotely surprised.

“You have a Tailor,” Alina said.

Sturmhond winced. “I am not a Tailor,” Tolya said angrily.

“No, Tolya, your gifts lie elsewhere,” the strange captain spoke soothingly. “Mostly in the celebrated fields of killing and maiming.”

“Why would you do this?” Alina asked

“It was essential that the Darkling not recognize me. He hasn’t seen me since I was fourteen, but it wasn’t something I wanted to chance.”

“Who are you?” Mal asked furiously.

“That’s a complicated question.”

“Actually, it’s pretty straightforward,” Alina said, springing to her feet. “But it does require telling the truth. Something you seem thoroughly incapable of.”

“Oh, I can do it,” the estranged boy said, shaking water from one of his boots. “I’m just not very good at it.”

Anaya stood her ground, her flace plastered with utter confusion. Alina and Mal were already asking the questions filling up her brain.

“Sturmhond,” Mal snarled, advancing on him. “You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself, or Tolya’s going to have to make you a whole new face.”

Tamar sudenly leapt to her feet. “Someone’s coming.”

“ They all quieted, listening. The sounds came from beyond the wood surrounding the lake, hoofbeats, a lot of them, the snap and rustle of broken branches as men moved toward them through the trees.

Sturmhond groaned. “I knew we’d been sighted. We spent too long on the Fold.” He heaved a ragged sigh. “A wrecked ship and a crew that looks like a bunch of drowned possums. This is not what I had in mind.”

The trees parted, and a group of mounted men charged onto the beach. Nearly thirty soldiers of the First Army. They were the King’s men and heavily armed. 

“Easy, Summoner,” the boy whispered to Alina. “Let me handle this.”

“Since you’ve handled everything else so well, Sturmhond?”

“It might be wise if you didn’t call me that for a while.”

“And why is that?” 

“Because it’s not my name.”

The soldiers cantered to a halt in front of us, the morning light glittering off their rifles and sabers. A young captain drew his blade. “In the name of the King of Ravka, throw down your arms.”

Sturmhond stepped forward, placing himself between the enemy and his wounded crew. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Our weapons are at the bottom of the lake. We are unarmed.”

“State your name and business here,” commanded the young captain.

Slowly, Sturmhond peeled his soaked coat from his shoulders and handed it to Tolya.

An uneasy stir went through the line of soldiers.

Sturmhond wore a Ravkan military dress. He was soaked through to the skin, but there was no mistaking the olive drab and brass buttons of the Ravkan First Army. The golden double eagle that indicated an officer’s ran

Just who is this strange boy? Anaya wondered

An older man broke through the lines, wheeling his horse around to confront Sturmhond. His demanor showed that he would've been a General.

“Explain yourself, boy!” he commanded. “State your name and business before I have you stripped of that uniform and strung up from a high tree.”

Sturmhond seemed unconcerned. When he spoke, his voice had a different quality. “I am Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King’s Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne, may his life and reign be long.”

Anaya's eyes widened, this time her surprised expression was clearly visible.

Shock passed like a wave through the row of soldiers. A nervous titter rose from somewhere in the ranks. Anaya had never seen the second Prince herself but she could not believe that the dubious pirate, Privateer, would be hiding such a grand identity. The General did not look amused in any way. He leapt from his horse, tossing the reins to a soldier.

“You listen to me, you disrespectful whelp,” he said, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, his weathered features set in lines of fury as he strode directly up to the boy.

“Nikolai Lantsov served under me on the northern border and...”

His voice faded away. He was nose to nose with the privateer now, but the boy did not blink. The colonel opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a step back and scanned Sturmhond’s face. His expression hastely changed from scorn to disbelief.

Abruptly, he dropped to one knee and bent his head.

“Forgive me, moi tsarevich,” he said, gaze trained on the ground before him. “Welcome home.”

The soldiers exchanged confused glances.

Sturmhond turned a cold and expectant eye on them. He radiated command. A pulse seemed to pass through the ranks. Then, one by one, they slipped from their horses and dropped to their knees, heads bent.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mal muttered.

Anaya had seen many unnatural things, but this, was extremely strange. But it did seem quite plausible. She'd heard that the King's other son hadn't been much at home. He was studying in some university at Ketterdamn, and had later joined the First Army. Maybe this was why he'd barely ever been home? she wondered.

She tried to search her mind for any memory of the Prince, when she slightly remembered. The Winter Fete when she was eight, the boy had came to the Little Palace along with his family. He had....golden hair, that shone in the lights. Light, hazel eyes. He was constantly being ragged around by his brother and didn't seem interested in the event. 

Was it possible that the Captain truly was him?

Sturmhond. Storm hound. Wolf of the Waves.

“Rise,” commanded the boy, Prince. His whole bearing seemed to have changed.

The soldiers got to their feet and stood at attention.

“It’s been too long since I was home,” he boomed. “But I did not return empty-handed.”

He stepped to the side, then threw his arm out, gesturing to Alina. Every face turned, waiting, expectant.

“Brothers,” he said, “I have brought the Sun Summoner back to Ravka.”

Anaya was shocked to the core. But her reaction wasn't as extreme as Alina, who decided to punched him in the face.

[soul-dwelling]

I dunno Vigilantes, atleast at the beggining had such a lowkey vibe that it in a weird way just feels better as a manga. Maybe its just the way I experienced it - on lazy Sundays when a few chapter had amased during my college days, just staying inside or finishing just in time for some church gathering or other student event

Oh, jeez, do I have conflicting feelings about Vigilantes. 

I’m kind of irritated right now, so maybe I’ll recant some complaints later--but I’ll give my thoughts on Vigilantes. 

Spoilers below. 

Content warning about representations of mind control, brainwashing, and coded implications of rape. 

So, short version: yeah, it works better as a manga (although it drags way too much in the final arc); if I sat through this as an anime and got _that_ ending, I’d be pissed, whereas skimming 126 chapters is a faster way of doing it; and if this was an anime, it would frustrate fans who would ask, “You mean you could’ve just adapted the Aizawa and Oboro story from Vigilantes into the main MHA anime instead of shoe-horning Oboro out of nowhere and saving him for a subpar Vigilantes anime storyline?”

I enjoyed Vigilantes--initially. 

Then the last fight dragged on. (On a monthly schedule, it felt even worse, and that pretty much broke me when it just wouldn’t end already.) 

And we again reduce a girl/woman character to be the victim that the leading man has to save. 

And almost nothing significant changes after that final arc wraps up: our lead is still a foul-up. Any indication of character progression is sapped amongst our main trio. Crawler still sucks at superheroics despite his incredible saves. (No one pulled this kid away from reporters until he could be trained in marketing, public persona, and speaking one of the major languages where he was now working?) Pop is still a sad sack in love with a man who will not return that love. And Knuckleduster is again trying to get someone young killed by his training regiment. (I do love his Midnighter aesthetic.)

…And somehow Makoto is one of the most tiresome characters I have seen lately in fiction. 

How can one character like Makoto feel like a giant walking deus ex machina? It’d work if there was more of a wink to the camera at how easy everything comes to her and how easily she solves everyone’s problems--but it isn’t there. She’s not an Izuku where his solutions for others more or less come naturally to him. She’s not a Momo where the joke is how much access to privilege she has, thus that it helps her put into action her genius. 

No, it’s just Makoto is here whenever the story needs her to be here, for whatever purpose, whether to advance someone else’s characterization, or to solve the problem that is the plot itself by her mere presence and collection of qualities (police detective’s sibling, college student, practically in charge of Captain Celebrity’s entire hero agency and corporation, best-selling author). 

And all just to set up the awful gag of, “She is in love with our dumbass protagonist.” Ugh. 

She’s here to barely advance her brother’s characterization--by just making him the typical cop (obstinate, ignorant, foolish) that runs counter to anything we saw between him and All Might in the main manga, before she gets to work solving Captain Celebrity’s problems, the department store’s problems, creating a career for Pop (so that Makoto’s exit speeds up how Pop’s rise falls apart, putting her into the position where she will get kidnapped, tortured, mind-raped and based on visual clues probably literally raped--because why not have your fucking comic just get gross). 

(I know this is a superhero story where you don’t need things to be realistic--but the idea that someone in her position can publish her dissertation and turn it into a common-parlance coffee table book to get herself interviews on late night talk shows isn’t just unrealistic, it’s not believable, even in a series that up to now has made superheroics so mainstream that I should think, “Of course her academic book would find a wide audience.” Based on my experiences working in academia, even the most popular research-based non-fiction academic book doesn’t get as wide an audience or this many sales. It’s not even like Makoto’s book is novel in some way: see Nick Sousanis's Unflattening, his dissertation told through the form of a comic book/graphic novel, which he then got published. I would stop nitpicking Makoto’s publication success if the story gave her one more untapped talent, that being that she is an excellent illustrator and comic book artist, if it turned out her dissertation-turned-book was also a comic--which would be a genius ploy by the story to emphasize that, you know, this is a freaking comic book that you’re reading.)

And I complained about the ending, and the lack of character progression--but, again, when your ending is just showing that nothing changes for your main characters because they remain the same even after all they went through, I don’t care. I mean, does Pop change at all? We can see she is devastated by what happened--and then we time skip away from that and still have her thinking about Crawler. We barely get to see the aftermath because heaven forbid you confront more directly that trauma is fucking hard to live with. We even repeat the same gag from the first chapter, so nothing changes with Knuckleduster (and how the fuck did he survive repeated deaths--I know I just said this has to be believable, not realistic, but when you have his daughter seeing the shooting star and then, “LOL, no, he isn’t really dead”). 

I know there are enough fans who didn’t like how Vigilantes handled All For One, and I can only guess there are probably complaints how some MHA characters differ in characterization or design--but I honestly liked most of that. 

I mean, I hate the Aizawa story (“here is a long story to tell you why Aizawa is what he’s like”...as if you couldn’t figure out enough of that without that story--and then finding out that story exists just to add drama for him and Kurogiri and, fuck, I don’t care). 

And, yeah, Midnight’s behavior is…problematic. 

But seeing what Mirko, Rappa, and Fatgum were up to was fun. 

I did enjoy most of Crawler’s progression--until that final arc, where suddenly it’s more stupid love triangle shit and mind-raping (literally raping?) Pop to up the stakes when Six’s antics are already enough to up the stakes because of course a good guy like Crawler would stop the villain, so why are we again going for “rape makes this more dramatic” and “(almost) killing the girl lead makes this more dramatic”? 

*sigh* 

So, yeah, I don’t know how to wrap this up, beyond looking to what comes after Vigilantes in two parts. 

First, I hope the best for the Vigilantes creative team on their latest project: an official Marvel comic where Dr. Octopus is reincarnated as a young girl. On the one hand, they figured out enough of Peter Parker’s life and skill set with the Crawler, so they’ll probably nail that (and just how pathetic and annoying Parker can be). On the other hand…I mean, this manga could somehow have a worse ending than Vigilantes--hard to pull off, but given how badly Vigilantes ended, not impossible. 

Second, as I said before, I really would rather not have BONES animate this. Give it to Trigger. Yeah, I’m not a big Trigger fan. But given how cartoony, action-packed, and problematic Vigilantes can be, all of that seems to fit the style and tropes Trigger keeps using. (It’s almost like Court and Furahashi designed Midnight’s outfit as if to beg that studio to animate the series.)

[revolutionarywarhistory]

"A Gentleman of Maryland": the short life of Edward Giles

Focus on what Christopher Weeks argues is the land within Harford Lower Hundred ("all the land drained by Romney Creek, Bush River, and Cranberry Run"), using an 1858 "map of Harford Co., Maryland." Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Edward Giles was a gentleman that was different from the other officers of the Extra Regiment, who marched Southward just like him. After all, Edward had ancestors who were immigrants to Massachusetts in the 1630s and some of the "earliest settlers of Baltimore County," specifically to "Old Baltimore." His short life is worth noting, with its twists and turns, as it tells a story which has never been fully told in print.

Reprinted from my History Hermann WordPress blog.

In the final years of military service: 1780-1782

Edward was a major in the Extra Regiment as noted by fellow officer Theodore Middleton and a soldier named Giles Thomas. Remaining records of the Maryland Line would also show his military service within the regiment. [1] He held many other military positions. He was reportedly a captain in Hazen's (2nd Canadian) regiment from 1778-1779, a major and aide-to-camp of General Morgan from 1779 to 1781, as he would note in a January 1781 letter. He was even made Brevet Major in Continental Army in March 1781 in honor of his role in the Battle of Cowpens, which he seems to have reported to Thomas Jefferson in a glowing account. [2] Until the close of the war, he served as an aide-to-camp of General Smallwood until the close of the war. Reportedly he also commanded Virginia militia in December 1780. [3] He was, undoubtedly, a "prolific correspondent" on the Extra Regiment.

In 1781, the Maryland General Assembly consider raising an all-Black regiment, similar to the state’s German Regiment, but did not do so. Even so, Edward wrote to Otho Holland Williams on June 1st arguing that

I wish the [Black] regiment would be raised. I am of the opinion that the Blacks will make excellent soldiers—indeed experience proves it…As to the danger of training them to Arms—tis the Child of a distempered Imagination. There are some people who are forever frightening themselves with Bugbears of their own Creation. [4]

The following year, Edward would be elected to the Continental Congress. However, he would not attend that year possibly related to his military service, but the true reason is not known. [5] The same year he would defend Samuel Chase, who then represented Maryland in the Continental Congress, from charges that he had used "secret congressional information to corner the market on flour," knowing that the French fleet would be arriving in Maryland. Specifically he wrote to James McHenry saying that the evidence before the Maryland General Assembly had shown Chase innocent and urged the author of the "Publius" essays to retract their charges. As a letter from Alexander Hamilton to McHenry revealed (also implied in McHenry's letter to Hamilton earlier that year), he was Publius, which comes as no surprise. Interestingly, Hamilton was angry that Edward had become a champion of Chase:

...You know that I can have no personal enmity to him, and that considerations of public good alone dictated my attack upon his conduct and character, influenced by a persuasion produced by the strongest authorities, that he was acting a part inconsistent with patriotism, or honor... I could not refuse it to my own feelings, to make him the most explicit and complete retribution...As to the discovery of my name demanded with such preposterous vehemence, by a volunteer in the dispute, I conceive myself under no obligation to make it...I have esteemed Major [Giles] character; and am sorry for his sake that he has so indelicately entered the lists; and made himself, not only the champion of Mr. Ch——e’s innocence in the present case, but of his virtues in general, certainly at best equivocal in spite of the Major’s panygerics. He should have recollected, that by an alliance with his family, he did not ally himself with his principles; and that he degrades Mr. Ch——e, as well as commits himself by unnecessarily taking up the glove for him...an apprehension of his, or any man’s resentment is a motive incapable of operating upon me or having the least share either in the concealment of my name or in the moderate return I make to his invectives.

In sum, Hamilton is saying that Edward is using formal speech (panegyrics) to defend Chase but that by doing so, he has made himself a champion of the latter's values. He also suggests that he is degrading Chase by doing so and standing by his side, allying with the Chase family. Hamilton then worried about people guessing his motives so he decides to keep his name hidden.

The next year, 1783, the county assessment for Harford County would note Edward's large landholdings, living in the same county as the former commanding officer of the Extra Regiment, Alexander Lawson Smith. He would own a total of 1,401 acres in Harford Lower Hundred. These acres were parceled out into seven land tracts:

90 acre tract called Mats Island

a 50 acre tract called Hog Neck

a 147 acre tract called Shepherds Choice

a 770 acre tract called Rumney Marsh

a 28 acre tract called Shepherds Adventure

a two acre tract called Minorca

314 acre tract called Atkinsons Purchase.

Soon this would all change.

The last hurrah: A trip to Bermuda

A close-up of Bermuda within Joseph Smith Speer's 1774 map of the 13 colonies, West Indies, and Caribbean. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

On January 30, 1783, Governor William Paca and the Council of Maryland would write to Admiral Robert Digby of the Royal Navy. Guided by the "Motives of Humanity" he would describe Edward's condition:

...Mr Edward Giles, a Gentleman of Maryland, is reduced to such a State, by a Disorder in the Breast, that his Physicians advise a Change of Climate as the only probable Means of his Recovery. As he is too Weak to undertake a long Voyage, his Friends are extremely desirous that he should try the Salutary Air of Bermuda, and it is at their earnest Solicitations that we have the Honor to request the Favor of your Excellency's Passport for a Vessel to carry him thither, with a Companion and two Slaves to attend him; and Provisions for the Use of the Crew and his Family. Candor requires that you should be informed, that Mr Giles has been an Officer in the American Army, and that he is, at this Time, a Delegate to Congress. We know not whether it is in your Excellency's Department to grant Mr Giles Permission to reside in Bermuda until his Health be restored, but if it is not, we persuade ourselves, from your acknowledg'd Attention to the Rights of Humanity, that you will be so obliging as to recommend him, for this Purpose, to the Governor of the Island [William Browne].

With the above letter showing his wealth, with two enslaved Blacks and a companion (his wife?), it is partially revealing. The following day, Edward would write a letter to Washington mentioning the above letter, noting that he felt "highly obliged" and hoped he could use the latter's influence to "obtain the Passport and Permission as soon as possible." As he described it,

"...With your Letter please to have that of the Governor and Council transmitted. I hope the Admirals not being furnished with the name and tonnage of the Vessel and number of hands will not impede the Business. It is impossible to give him this Information accurately as the Vessell is yet to be obtained. Thus far however he may be assured, she will be chosen for her good Cabbin Accomadations and her hands will not exceed eight. I am sensible that was Admiral Digby (tho’ an Enemy) acquainted with my Situation, he would blush to throw any obstructions in my Way. Your Excellency’s Veneration for humanity fills me with undoubting hopes that you will leave no means unessayed to accomplish this interesting Business. It is the opinion of my Physicians, that the month of March and April in this Climate might so confirm my Disorder as to make it an [   ] for Life. My Fate hangs on every passing hour, a small Delay may prove fatal to my Existence. Excuse the Anxiety of an Invalid, and believe Me to be with Sentiments of real Regard"-

This desperate plea would not go unanswered by Washington. Twelve days later on February 12, Washington would remark that he had received the letter, noting that the application should have "gone thro Mr Morris as Agent of Marine" and not himself, but since a "delay in the transaction of this business might have been fatal to you." As a result, he sent the Admiral a letter immediately, noting that any answer he receives shall be forwarded to him.

Sadly, he would not make it another month. On March 13, the Maryland Gazette would announce his death in a detailed obituary. They would describe him as a man with a "liberal education" and imbued "patriotism," calling him a "virtuous citizen" and an "excellent young man":

Quotes around this obituary seem to say it was reprinted from another paper which is not currently known.

Using the first line of the obituary, one can easily calculate that he died on March 10, 1783, with others coming to the same conclusion. [6]

Over 148 years later, on December 1, 1931, Samuel K. Dennis, J. Hall Pleasants, and J. M. Vincents, would write to the "gentlemen" of the Maryland Historical Society about whole episode. They would write about how the council requested that Admiral Digby, commanding the British fleet, issue a "passport to Edward Giles" who seems to have had "tuberculosis of the lungs" and noted "Giles died a week or two later before the request could be acted upon" with subsequent developments thereafter in "humane amenities...between the belligerents" when the main hostilities seemed to cease.

Beyond this, little information is known other than the fact that his death would be reported in British newspapers by June, and a possible federal veterans pension in later years. Due to his death in 1783, this means he would not be in any of the federal censuses and would have no direct federal pension records associated with him. Regardless, he would live on, in some way, shape, and form through his ancestors and scattered records in varied pensions of others.

© 2016-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1779-1780, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 43, 234, 248, 306, 314, 341, 530; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1780-1781, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 45, 45, 46, 100, 211, 334, 514, 541, 617; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1781-1784, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 48, 98.

[2] Francis Bernard Heitman, Historical Register of Officers of the Continental Army During the War of the Revolution, April, 1775, to December, 1783 (Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Co., 1982), 248; John Thomas Scharf, History of Maryland from the Earliest Period Until the Present Day, Vol. II (Baltimore: John. B. Piet, 1879), 407-409.

[3] John Thomas Scharf, History of Maryland, 401.

[4] The Finding the Maryland 400 Project cites a letter from Major Edward Giles to Otho Holland Williams, 1 Jun 1781 within the Williams Papers, Maryland Historical Society which is quoted in Benjamin Quarles, The Negro in the American Revolution (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press for the Institute of Early American History and Culture, 1961), 56-57.

[5] Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, 1774-2005: The Continental Congress, September 5, 1774, to October 21, 1788, and the Congress of the United States, from the First Through the One Hundred Eighth Congresses, March 4, 1789, to January 3, 2005, Inclusive (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 2005), 35 or page 5 of this PDF.

[6] Scharf, History of Maryland, 436.

[shabre-legacy]

Kyiari met her troopers in suitably dramatic entrance style for a Jedi. The 91st had been assigned an important mission. An attempt to strike back against the separatists since they had an advantage while the Republic found and moved their troops, and got them supplied and organized. Kyiari was with her Master, meeting the troops and fighting with them for the first time. Unfortunately due to the jungle terrain they were in, the only point to drop them at was a bit of distance from the objective and there were only a few routes where the foliage was thin enough that they could travel through it. Commander Ponds and Major Drift were there with some of the other captains and officers from the regiments and battalions that made up the Recon Corps. He met his officers, learned their names and introduced himself and attempted to introduce his padawan. Kind of a ‘”I’m Jedi Master General Mace Windu” and gestures to the side where his padawan should be standing just behind and off to the side, where she had been standing just moments before, “and this is my padawan Commander Kyiari Lesana” glancing over his shoulder and where did his padawan disappear to this time?’ sort of a thing.

He reaches out with the Force and locates her just as she drops down from a tall tree over them. Landing next to her master in one of those landing poses where you end up crouched low to the ground and looking down then you have to stand up. Seeing a dark deep blue twi’lek in altered Jedi robes fall from the sky was not expected, but the troopers are trained well and don’t react much. After all, they were told they were serving under Jedi, that Jedi were weird, that Jedi did things no one else did or could do. She is super dramatic so she looks up at them first before popping up lightly onto her feet. It’s that look the intense focus in her bright green eyes as she looks at them where they can see her for the first time that hits Drift right in the heart. He starts falling then and there. It takes a while to recognize it though. 

She tells Windu that she went up the tree to get a good view of the surrounding terrain. He reminds her that their troopers are recon and she should let them do their jobs. She counters saying she could sense enemies, but only at a distance and likely out of view. And she located them. Fine, they’ll discuss later, for now what did she find. There’s two groups of droids blocking her way, big ones. Lots of droids. Possibly half or more of the total forces at the objective, based on previous intel. Ok they know we’re here. Windu sees an opportunity to get Lesana working with the regiments that were assigned to her. That had been sorted only recently, they hadn’t had a chance to discuss it. He asks if two regiments will be enough. She laughs and responds that it’s more then enough, she could do it herself, but better to not strain themselves this early in the war, right master? Of course, This is Major Drift and Major Cres (for the other regiment). This part of the mission is yours. He wants to make sure that she’s prepared in case she has to deploy while he is stuck on Coruscant. She’s a senior padawan after all. She can do that, provided she’s ready. She nods shifting a little to become a bit more serious and focused with a cheerful but determined “yes master” and steps forward to face the Troopers and present her plan for taking down the obstacles in their path.

[ciceroprofacto]

Enlisted and Officer ranks

Because I’m Tired.

Extremely basic Army & Marine ranks under the cut- Continental Army and modern translations. I will not be covering the Continental or modern Navy because...I just. can’t with the Navy’s rank structure.

Enlisted

Private (modern rate E1)

would have very limited experience and wouldn’t be assigned responsibility for tasks unless they’re supervised

Private First Class (E2)

still would not take lead on tasks unless absolutely necessary

Lance Corporal (E3)

a little more experience but still developing their leadership abilities, mostly just taking care of basic tasks and sometimes stepping up to lead their peers.

Corporal (E4)

first rank of Noncommissioned Officers (NCO), the rank at which enlisted soldiers are expected to assume assigned leadership roles over juniors. In Continental Army ranks, a Corporal and a Sergeant would’ve been the lead NCOs in a platoon, advising the Lieutenant Officer in Charge (OIC).

Sergeant (E5)

second rank of NCO, far more-trusted than a Corporal. In Continental Army, would’ve been the senior enlisted in a platoon, in modern ranks, they’re likely most senior in a squad (2-3 squads per platoon)

The rank of Staff Sergeant (E6) follows Sergeant in the modern military. The Continental Army did not have a distinct rank of Staff Sergeant

Sergeant First Class (E7 Army) or Gunnery Sergeant (E7 Marines) follows Staff Sergeant in the modern military but again- not in the Continental Army

First Sergeant (E8)

The senior enlisted advisor at the company level (modern military) or the battalion/regimental level (Continental Army)

Modern Army and Marines have an equivalent E8 rank of Master Sergeant which is a technical specialist in their designated field

Quartermaster Sergeant (discontinued) or Sergeant Major (E9)

Neither Army nor Marine Corps still have a rank of Quartermaster Sergeant, but this would have been the enlisted supervisor for acquisition and distribution of supplies to a battalion/regiment.

Sergeant Major was the most senior enlisted rank in the Continental Army and would’ve been an enlisted advisor at the battalion-level (modern) and at the brigade and division levels (Continental Army).

The equivalent rank of Master Gunnery Sergeant (E9) is for those who previously held the rank Master Sergeant.

In the army the Command Sergeant Major (E9) follows Sergeant Major, then Sergeant Major of the Army (E9) or Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps (E9).

Officers

*have always been specifically commissioned by Congress with special trust and confidence. Modern officers require a minimum bachelor’s degree and undergo specific officer training prior to receiving commissions. In the Continental Army, these individuals were either the wealthy, well-connected, well-educated, or prominent militia leaders who gained attention through notable leadership actions.

Ensign or Cornet (Continental Army) Second Lieutenant (modern O1)

Ensign and Cornet were considered “Subaltern” ranks- or junior officers

The rank of Ensigns (infantry) and Cornets (cavalry) would have been the flag-bearers for a company and would assume command of platoons if a Lieutenant could not.

Lieutenant (replaced with rank of First Lieutenant O2)

Platoon commanders (Continental Army) up to company executive officers (modern) who act as essentially the right-hand of the Company Commander.

Captain (O3)

Company Commanders- in both the Continental and modern military. This rank is the balance of leadership to the enlisted ranks and influence to the higher ranks of officers and is often considered a pivotal point in an officer’s career.

Captains may also assume many special assignments and staff positions at the battalion-level depending on their specialties.

Captain was the highest rank of Continental Marines with the whole two battalions under the command of Captain Samuel Nicholas.

Major (O4)

Executive Officers, Operations officers, or special staff officers at the battalion-level or higher. The lowest rank of field-grade officers, Major is where officers careers become more political in nature as they transition from tactical leadership positions to operational to strategic roles.

Lieutenant Colonel (O5)

Battalion Commanders or special staff to generals

Colonel (O6)

Most senior field-grade officer rank. Equivalent to a Navy Captain and extremely political. Colonels command a battalion or regiment, or are senior staff to generals.

Brigadier General (O7)

A modern 1-star general, Brigadier General is the lowest general officer rank. They command a group or brigade.

Major General (O8)

A 2-star general, commanders of divisions in both modern and Continental ranks.

There were 29 total Major Generals over the course of the Revolutionary War. 

After the rank of Major General in the modern army, there are additional ranks of Lieutenant General (O9) which didn’t exist in the Continental Army, 4-star general (Army and Marines O10), and 5-star general (Army O10)

Commander in Chief (General of the Armies O10)

The title “General of the Armies” and a 6th star was granted to John J. Pershing following WWI and was conferred on George Washington posthumously in 1976.

some resources x x x 

Older posts for helpful context: military vocab, Continental Army structure

[inky-duchess]

Wars, Battles and Sieges: Before the Battle

In the beginning there was squabbling over land, or an insult or even a kingdom who was a scaredy cat and decided to lash out at everyone about them for no good reason. What ever has happened, your characters are at war. Soon they will face the enemy in battle, where they will fight for freedom, eternal glory and- *record scratch* But we are getting ahead of ourselves. What does happen before that thunderous charge? How does everything start?

Finding Ground

Before a battle, the armies would try their best to find the best ground. Scouts would be sent out in search of the best terrain they can do battle on. Boggy ground can be used to derail calvary such as at Bannockburn. Flat hard terrain can be used to aid chariots like Gaugulmela. Finding the perfect ground does not mean a battle will be won. Many a good army was lost on the most meticulously picked battlefields because of forces beyond their control. An example of this would be at the Battle of Pharsalus, where Pompey had every advantage but lost the battle anyway.

Negotiations

As the armies line up and ready themselves for battle, commanders on both sides might meet to discuss terms (but only if they had their monarchs go ahead). Commanders might attend themselves or they might send their lieutenants. What would follow after would be a back and forth, with one side offering terms and the other countering with their own. There were rules surrounding these meetings. Generally both sides were sworn safe conduct and placed in a sort of neutral bubble. Nobody was allowed to draw weapons or try kill one another as that went against the code. During the talks between the English nobility and the commons during the Peasants' Revolt, a knight slashed open the rebel command Wat Tyler's face. This was a no no and probably would have ended in a riot only tween Richard II had other ideas. Perhaps one negotiation I would have loved to have been involved in was the chat between Hannibal and Scipio before the Battle of Zama. The shade that must have been thrown. The drama. The sexual tension. Maybe not the last one but still...

Battle plans

When negotiations for surrender or peace do not work, either side must begin to plan their strategies. Most war councils would have included the most important commanders in the army. These plans would be exclusively attended by the most senior commanders (all of noble rank, commonly before the 20th Century).

Field Marshall/General/Lord High Admiral: The highest rank upon the field. They are given their orders from the monarch to represent their interests upon the field of battle. It was an honour almost exclusively given to nobility.

Brigadier: The Brigadier commands a unit of the recruits, serving under the above rank. They are similar to a Roman centurion though their unit might surpass the traditional 100.

Colonel: The Colonel could often be given temporary control of the army if the Marshal was unable to do so or elsewhere. They were also in command of a regiment (major division of an army) as well as their own unit (smaller division).

There would also be a speckling of other lower ranks, who would likely pull their rank of nobility to attend.

Lieutenant Colonel: The Lieutenant Colonel served as assistant to the Colonel in his regiment, serving as de facto leader if the Colonel falls or is occupied elsewhere.

Major: was third in line in command of a regiment, in command of their own unit and allowed take control when their superiors where unable to command.

Captain: The captain serves as the leader of a company of men. In mediaeval France, the captain was often a lord or a knight commanding his tenants on the field of battle, of course taking orders from the above ranks.

Lieutenant: the captain's assistant with the company to keep the soldiers in good order and command if needed.

The commanders would talk about strategies and how they might win the battle. Ideas will be exchanged, there may be some debate, angry words but a plan will be drawn up, all the commanders and officers given their posts and commands for the day ahead.

[thero0ks]

The Ghost of You <Miche Zacharius>

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hurt my own feelings while writing this. 

TW: Death/Grief, Brief discussion of wounds

Blades of grass slipped through her fingers as she watched the stars blanket the sky. Wishing on shooting stars and birthday candles had left her feeling empty. Perhaps the cosmos would send him a message. 

Her eyes held the universe, and Miche felt insignificant in her presence. One hand propped behind her head, the other resting at her side. His large hand slipped into hers engulfing it. Always too cold as of late. He didn’t care for the stars in the sky. The only thing he wished to do was observe her, and he had all the time in the world to trace out every little detail. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured as his fingertips skimmed across her skin. To describe her as a goddess would be an insult. She was so much more than that. Divine, perfectly sculpted, and the only thing that gave meaning to his existence. 

Longing eyes flickered over to him, and his breath caught in his throat. He would rip apart kingdoms for that gaze alone. “Miche,” his name fell from her lips. He wanted to hear her saying it like a prayer in his ear as he made her see stars while he brought her to a state of euphoria. 

Instead he simply cupped her face. “I’m here,” he assured. “I’ll always be here.”

A known hard ass to the cadets, he watched them all mutter curses when she ordered them to start their exercises. Walking amongst the cadets she commented on their form, gently adjusting them until it was perfect. 

“We’ve lost so many of the veterans,” Erwin sighed, as he observed the training. Levi nodding in acknowledgment. 

How many veterans were left Miche wondered. Nanaba? Gelgar? The loss of the Levi squad was a major blow to the scout regiment, but they had a lot of young blood. More cadets then Miche had seen in years. Erwin had entrusted their learning to the person he had spent hours training. The Commander had made a wise decision.

“Remember cadets, as long as we keep fighting, we haven’t lost.”

Pride swelled in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, arms crossed on his chest. She’d stepped into the roll of captain seamlessly. He recalled her being a wide eyed cadet when he first saw her. Earning his respect with her headstrong determination. She never ran from hard work, and she was the kind that would pick up the slack promising she could shoulder the load.

Miche was by her side as soon as the cadets were dismissed. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he slung his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so proud of you,” he exclaimed. The training grounds were empty and he heard the small sigh that escaped her body.

“I’m not you Miche. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” she groaned. Fingers running through her (dark/light) locks. 

His heart dropped at her insecurities. She was her own worst critic. Miche knew it was a coping mechanism she’d developed in her childhood. If she said those hateful things then no one could hurt her with their criticism. Perhaps one day she would see how brilliant she was. Miche hoped that day would come soon.

Her voice surprised him as he turned to see her holding a white mug. The liquid steaming in the chilly room. Floorboards creaking under her feet as she approached Erwin’s desk. 

“I brought you some coffee Commander,” Y/N said, placing the ceramic mug on his desk. 

“I think you’ve earned the right to call me Erwin,” his blue eyes sparkled. Putting the pen down he leaned back in his chair. Eager for the prospect of conversation with the (petite/lean/curvy) woman. 

The smell of coffee engulfed Miche’s senses. He knew that look in the Commander’s eye. The prospect of attention from the divine creature seated in front of him had stirred excitement within the intelligent man. Miche kept his distance a dull ache in his heart as he observed the two. 

Dainty fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t stay up so late Erwin,” she softly chastised. 

Miche caught the upturned corner of Erwin’s mouth. Knowing he was in her orbit of concern made the Commander happy. No one cared as much as her. She would do anything within her power to help those she loved. The balance she kept between a strong heart, and a caring heart was mesmerizing, and Miche never could pinpoint how she did it. 

“You are the one that brought me coffee,” Erwin stated, taking a sip of the bitter beverage. 

An amused smile played on her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to my advice.” 

“Tell you what,” Erwin said leaning forward, placing the mug on the edge of his desk. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

Miche watched the gentle exchange of words. For once she didn’t look like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

Her hand slid into Erwin’s as he pulled her out of her chair. Leading her out of the scout headquarters they walked along the pond. Erwin recounting stories from his cadet days pulled harmonic laughs from her lips. 

Miche followed a few steps behind. Eyes fixed on the way the moonlight danced across her skin. Biting back the jealousy when Erwin took her hands in his.

“Your hands are cold,” he commented, trapping them between his large palms.

“They’ve been cold for months,” Miche commented, sadness coating his voice. 

Doe eyes blinked up at the Commander. He was so gentle with her as if he was worried one miscalculated step would leave her heart shattered. “Can I kiss you?” Erwin’s voice came out in earnest. 

“Yes,” Miche’s voice was just above a whisper. “Just say yes.”

He never thought he’d find himself pushing the love of his life into the arms of another man, but he couldn’t bear to see her go another day with cold hands, or a smile be a rarity that crossed her lips. Not when she had the most beautiful smile. He watched her hesitate, and he felt the hope shatter within. 

“Miche,” it was only a name, but it was an answer. Erwin leaned back a sad smile gracing his lips. He could handle her sad heart, but she wasn’t ready for him. Years he had waited for her, and a few more wouldn’t hurt. 

“I wish I had found you first,” he admitted. Tracing her cheek with his thumb he grabbed her hand to lead her back inside. 

Miche stood still watching their retreating forms. He wanted to scream until he was hoarse. If letting her go would make her happy he was willing to do that. He would fight every selfish desire that arose in him just so she could be free. Love was painful, and this was a burden he was willing to bear if it meant seeing her happy once more. Loyalty is what drew him to her, and he knew that it was something she refused to change. It was him, it was always him. Just like she promised. In this life or the next she would always choose him. The greedy part in him danced with joy, but the selfless part ached at her agony. Her happiness is what mattered most to him, and he just wanted to see her smile. 

She sat between his legs. Her back against his chest as she flipped through a novel. Miche rested his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around her. 

“Miche look at this,” she said with a giggle, as her eyes flickered up. 

The haze of the fantasy world she was wrapped up in faded from her eyes, and reality slowly settled in. Her hand covered her mouth at the sight of the empty room. The book was long forgotten as it fell to the floor. Miche gripped her tightly in attempts to ground her.

“I’m here honey,” he said softly in her hair. Desperate to stop the tears that dropped down her chin. “I’ll always be here,” he promised, as he felt her body shake with sobs. 

Helplessness filled him. He would follow her to the ends of the earth but she would never have a clue. The promise he made to her he had made certain to keep. He would always be there, but she would never know it. Was he living in his own personal hell he wondered.

Ghosts surrounded him on the battlefield. The blood soaked ground made the earth spongy under his feet. Lingering smoke settled in the air, and the debris that flew past him was nothing more than a nuisance. Cries of death echoed all around, but there was only one person he hoped to find. Erwin would forgive him for not meeting him. There was one last thing his soul had to take care of before moving on.Trapped under the buckskin horse, her breathing was labored. Miche ran to her desperate to catch her in time.  

“Miche?” His lanky frame filled her vision. Tears of joy dripped down her cheeks as she reached for him.

“I’m here baby,” he said softly grabbing her hand. “I’ve always been here,” he assured placing a kiss to her open palm. 

“I know I should fight, but I’m too tired Miche.” Y/N confessed, as blood passed her lips. 

Miche took in her broken form. The Cavalry charge Erwin had led left the scouts completely slaughtered. Including his celestial being. A tragic death to match his own. Her white uniform was covered in so much blood he couldn’t decipher the origins of her wounds. 

He watched the light slowly dim in her eyes, and Miche wanted to weep at the sight. Uncertainty plagued his mind. Where would they both go from here? He didn’t know what awaited them on the other side. He had refused to move on without her. He had one promise left to fulfill, and as her body grew cold he knew the end was nigh. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so scary if he traveled the road hand in hand with her.  

A small hand on his shoulder startled him. “Miche?” 

Her voice was like honey in his ears. Turning to see her, the joy that filled him at the sight of her soft smile was abundant. He eagerly took her hand to tower over her. Cupping her face he brought her into a passionate kiss. It felt like an eternity since she looked at him. These past months she had only looked through him. His one sided affection was worth it as he held her in his arms. 

Home. She felt like home. He wanted to get lost in her kiss for eternity, but she pulled away. The kiss was too quick, and he craved more as he chased her lips. He felt the smile that crossed her lips as he kissed her. Fingers buried in her hair as he kissed the hurt away. 

“It’s time honey,” she said softly against his lips. 

“What’s going to happen to us?” He inquired, gazing into her (e/c) eyes.

Her eyes softened at his uncertainty. “I don’t know, but whatever it is we’ll be together.” She assured him. “I promise.” Her fingers stroked his face, her eyes full of adoration. “Thank you for being there.” 

“Always.”

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels: A Duelist’s Dance

This is the third Magnificent Scoundrels story.  If you don’t see any of the characters you like, well, don’t worry, we’ll be getting to them in good time.  Also, if you want more action, don’t worry, because we’ll be getting to that too.  As always, I own none of these characters except the Drake and his crew.  I hope you enjoy!

Vir met with the two commanders of the regiment, Colonel Kasteen and Major Broklaw, before he was to inspect the soldiers of the regiment.  They nodded affably, the pale faces of ice worlders peering from under their dress caps, and saluted.  

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.  I read Drake’s report, and I’m happy to serve with someone who has advanced the cause of the human race.”  These guys really don’t stop with humanity vs. the aliens, do they?

“I heard from Commissar Cain that all the aliens in your universe want to kill you.  That’s, well, not the case here.  All the aliens on this ship are perfectly amicable, and won’t try to hurt you.”  Broklaw frowned.

“Well, you know what they say, beware the treachery of the xenos.”  

“Well, I trust them,” said Adam heatedly.

“You never know with xenos.  Anyway, Commissar- or should I call you Admiral?”

“Either is fine.”

“Tell me about yourself.  Where were you born?” asked Kasteen as they walked through the hallways. 

“The United States of America.”  The two other officers frowned.  

“An odd name for a planet.”

“You misunderstand.  That’s the country.  I was born on Earth, just like most humans from my galaxy.”  Both officers stopped and stared in shock.

“You were born upon Holy Terra itself?” asked Kasteen in an incredulous whisper.

“If that’s your name for the birthplace of humanity, then, yes,”  shrugged Adam.  What was the big deal with being born on Earth?  All humans came from there.  

“Truly, it is a blessing to meet a native Terran.  To see the cradle of humanity, yet alone to be born in it!” exclaimed Kasteen.

“Is that a rarity where you come from?”  Broklaw chuckled.

“With an empire spanning over a million worlds, yes.”  It was Adam’s turn to look incredulous.  

“A million worlds?  How could you possibly govern it?” Kasteen shrugged.

“Every planet in the Imperium is governed its own way.  So as long as they accept the word of the God-Emperor, pay the tithe, and respect the various branches of the Imperium, then they’re free to do as they wish.”  Well, that was interesting.

“Where are you two from?”  

“Valhalla, located in the northeast of the galaxy.  It’s an ice world, and we live in underground hive cities.  You either join the Guard or work in the caverns, cultivating the foodstuffs that sustain the populace.”

“That seems...” Adam searched for the right words, “harsh.”  Broklaw shrugged.

“Eh, could be worse.  You could be born on Catachan.”

“Or Krieg,” interjected Kasteen.  They both grinned at that.  But before Vir could ask what Krieg was, they arrived.  

He stepped through the door leading to the mess hall, one of the two only two rooms in the ship big enough to assemble a large body of people.  Every single member of the Valhallan 597th stood at parade attention.  Despite it being a relatively large room, the soldiers almost completely filled it, with little room to spare.  He didn’t really like doing it, but Adam was an admiral, and so that meant he had plenty of practice making speeches.  

“Men, and women of the Valhallan 597th, I am Adam Vir.  Due to the tensions between yourselves and the crew of the Omen, Commissar Cain and I are switching places to show both you and the crew that you can trust each other.  It is our duty to maintain order, and so order will be maintained.  That’s all for now.  Dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but, again, not one of his worst.  Quick and simple.  It would work.  Now, for the tough part.  He found that people generally got along better if they knew and were comfortable with one another, and so he would be staying with the Valhallans and supervising them at all times.  Hopefully, they could work something out and tensions would de-escalate.  Kasteen approached him.

“Admiral Vir, I have decided to delegate tasks to the troopers to keep them out of trouble, and out of the way of the rest of the crew.  I thought it would be best if we gave both them and your crew some time to cool down, then gradually re-introduced them to each other,” she said.

“Good idea,” replied Vir.  He turned on his heel and walked towards the exit, when he had a sudden, horrid thought.  The Celzex.  The Celzex were a highly militaristic and easily insulted race, several of which were aboard the ship.  The problem with the Celzex, however, was that they were six-inch tall adorable balls of fur, practically the least intimidating thing any human had come across.  They, however, did not realize this, and all the other races of the galaxy let themselves be fake-cowed as the Celzex had the most powerful warships out of any race that sailed the void, and, honestly, they were too hilarious to take seriously.  Adam had hidden them away, out of the reach of the Imperials, as nothing good could come out of a confrontation with deluded fluf balls and highly xenophobic humans.  Adam would also feel terrible if the Celzex were to be insulted and retaliate with their deadly weapons against the Imperium.  (Although, later, he was to feel much the opposite and be thankful that the Celzex didn’t insult the Imperium)  The problem with this was that without him in control over the ship, the Celzex would probably start to roam, and inevitably, with their pride and the Imperials’ xenophobia, someone would get hurt.  He resolved to speak with Simone at the earliest possible opportunity.  

Commissar Ciaphas Cain, backed up by Jurgen, as always, stepped through the doorway to the cargo bay, the other room big enough to hold large bodies of people at one time.  He was to be in charge of all the ground combat operatives on the Omen, which, unfortunately, included a group of the ten feet tall four-armed xenos.  Despite Admiral Vir’s reassurances, Cain still wasn’t comforted.  Xenos were a tricky lot, and it was best to still be on guard, despite what the possibly heretical Admiral said.  The xenos, er, Drev, were lined up neatly next to the ship’s marines, and Cain walked down their rows to inspect them.  The Marines’ armor was odd, nothing like he had ever seen before on an Imperial Guardsman.  But, it was a new galaxy after all, so it made sense that new sights would be seen.  And, he thought to himself while inspecting the Drev soldiers, it could be worse.  One of the people at Drake’s meeting was accompanied by a small rodent-like xenos that could talk, and another with a brown hairy xenos that looked like a walking carpet.  Clearly, things could be worse.  Although, Cain, with several centuries (Authors note: in the Warhammer 40k universe, there are treatments to prolong people’s life spans.  Cain, being a high ranking commissar and a Hero of the Imperium had and has access to these treatments) of military experience really ought to have known better than to jinx it.  

“I am Ciaphas Cain.  Your captain and I have switched places to retain order between yourselves and the Imperial Guardsmen on board this ship.  It is our hope that you will all come to understand one another, so that we may carry out the Emperor’s work all the more efficiently.”  Damn.  He was still used to Imperial phrases and platitudes while making speeches.  “I shall be your commanding officer and oversee all of you and your efforts.  Unless you have any problems or questions, dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but he wasn’t used to speaking to heretics and xenos.  Speaking of which, one of the big xenos, the Drev, he corrected himself, was sauntering over to his position.  

“You are presuming to command us?  I'm not sure if the Admiral told you, but in our culture, if you want command, you must fight for it.”  Cain wasn’t sure, but he thought the Drev, despite its beak-like mouth, was grinning at him.  Well frak.  He put on a casual outward appearance.  

“And if I don’t?”  The Drev shrugged.

“You cannot command us,” it said simply.  Most of the Marines and other Drev were sharing smiles between each other.  They wanted to see these arrogant Imperials put in their place.  And Cain, well, he had no idea if this custom was real, or if they were just making it up on the spot to spite him.  It didn’t matter either way.  He had to fight, otherwise, real custom or not, he would look weak, and the Drev and most of the Marines would probably refuse to serve under him.  He shrugged.  

“Fine then.  When is the fight?” he asked

“As soon as possible,” replied the Drev.

“See you in forty-five minutes.  Where, and, what are the rules?”  The Drev seemed to think things over, then replied.

“We shall make a combat area here.  We fight until disarmed or unable to continue.”

“I shall return in forty-five minutes,” replied Cain.  Frakkin’ xenos.  

Admiral Vir was frustrated.  He had returned to the bridge to talk to Simone about the Celzex situation.  Apparently, they were already mad that they could not go through the entire ship as they wished, and so he was required to go calm them down.  They wouldn’t listen to Simone.  Already, more problems.  And it was just at the point where he thought that the day couldn’t get any worse (again, he ought to have known better than to jinx it), when Ramirez, one of the Marines and a close friend of his, burst onto the bridge.  

“Adam!  We have a problem.”

“What else could have possibly gone wrong in the last half hour?”  Ramirez swallowed.

“Well, uh, the Drev challenged Cain to a fight.”

“They what?”

“They challenged Cain to a fight, as a way to get back at the Imperial’s insults.  A lot of the other marines are backing them.  I know it’s best if you guys restore order, which is why I’m telling you.”  Great.  Now Cian was going to get beat up, and he couldn’t do anything because he had to deal with the Celzex.  

“When’s the fight?”

”In ten minutes.”  It kept getting better and better, didn’t it?

“Try and stop them!” he practically yelled at Ramirez.  The last thing he needed was Cain getting beat up.  Then tensions would probably escalate until people started dying.  He hoped Ramirez could stop them in time.   

Cain stood at the edge of the space the Drev and Marines had laid out for the fight.  The edge of his chainsword was covered in black rubber, so as not to allow the razor sharp teeth to slice through his opponent.  (Author’s note:  Yes, chainsword.  It’s exactly what you think it is.  A chainsaw/sword)  His opponent, whose name he didn’t know, was holding a massive spear, blunted on the tip so he wouldn’t end up shish-kebabed.  Said opponent had been chosen by the other Drev, and Cain had no idea how good it was.  Hell, he had no idea what gender it was.  If, of course, Drev had genders, which he didn’t know and honestly didn’t really care about.  Most of the Drev and Marines were gathered around the circle, eager to see him get pummeled.  Hopefully, he would prove them wrong.  Hopefully.  It didn’t look good.  The Drev across from him was one of the big ones, standing ten feet tall with a forest green outer carapace.  It seemed to grin, an unseemly sight coming from it’s beak-like mouth, and spoke. “Commissar Cain, I am ready to begin.  Are you sure you want to fight in that coat?” it asked.  Several of the Marines snickered.  Cain hid his offended look behind a well practiced outer facade.  This time, he grinned in response.

“Of course.  I’ve fought many a tougher opponent than you in this coat.”  The Drev snarled.  

“Fine then.  We shall begin.”  The two fighters stepped forward, weapons raised, each one ready to test the other’s defences.  The Drev smiled to herself.  This would be easy.  A puny and arrogant human put in its place.  

Interestingly enough, most species throughout the now collective galaxies have a distressing tendency to not learn from the mistakes of the past.   The Drev were no exception.  This one seemed to forget that her species had once under-estimated humans, and it had cost them dearly, the Drev’s first ever major military defeat in war.  She lunged forward, spear singing through the air, intending to smash the sword out of Cain’s hand.  He sidestepped and deflected the shaft with contemptuous ease.  The Drev took a step back.  Surprising?  A little.  But it was of small matter.  That was just the opening blow.  She took a fighting stance, and the duel began in earnest.  

Ramirez sprinted through the ship, heading towards the cargo bay.  Hopefully, he would be in time to stop the fight, which would probably end badly for everyone involved, especially the Commissar.  If he was wounded or, unlikely but still possible, considering the mood most of the people on the ship were in, killed, the crew would be dealing with trained and armed soldiers without the oversight of their disciplinary officer.  In short, if the fight started, something bad would probably happen.  Unfortunately for him, he could see Cain and one of the Drev already in the combat ring, weapons drawn and raised, circling each other when he got to the cargo bay.  He was imminently familiar with Drev customs, having served alongside them for so long, and thus knew that interrupting the fight would probably cause worse problems than letting it continue.  There was nothing he could do but watch and hope Cain didn’t get pulverized.

The Drev scowled and launched another attack at Cain.  Once more, Cain’s feet moved in an intricate pattern, dancing around the blows, deflecting them with ease.  How?!  How was this possible?  This man wasn’t supposed to be this good!  She snarled and launched another attack.  

Cain spun out of the way of another blow.  The audience seemed to be taking closer notice it seemed.  It mattered little to him.  While the alien, Drev, he corrected himself, was certainly quite good, it wasn’t near the level of some of the opponents he had faced before.  It did not have the brute strength of an Ork, nor was it was hellishly fast as a genestealer, nor as overwhelmingly powerful as the demented servants of the Blood God.  He saw another swipe coming and sidestepped once more, knocking his opponent’s spear to the side.   

Several of the Marines were grinning.  There was, marines being marines, a betting pool for this fight.  The odds were overwhelmingly in favor of the Drev.  So in favor, in fact, that some of the marines had decided that they were just too good to be passed up and bet on Cain.  Now they grinned as Cain exhibited his deadly skill with a sword as their fellows glowered at them.  

Several of the more pragmatic and practical amongst the Drev and Marines were watching the combatants closely, noting how they fought for future reference and perhaps imitation.  The Drev, as benefited a warrior culture, had several different named styles for fighting with the most common weapon amongst  their kind, the spear.  The Drev in the ring was using what was known as the ‘Earth’ style, designed to deliver the most powerful and crushing blows as possible to one’s enemy.  Her form was good, noted several of the Drev absently.  What everyone was mostly looking at was Cain.  He fought using his own unique style, tailored to his tastes and abilities, and formulated to fight the horribly overpowered enemies of his home galaxy.  It was largely defensive in nature, designed to deflect blows with minimal effort so as to get his opponent to make a mistake or over-exert themselves.  But it was not only the style of the fighter, but the fighter himself that drew such attention.  It was plain to tell by those more experienced in the art of combat that Cain was an exceptionally good swordsman.  His reflexes allowed for no mistakes.  Every stroke was parried, every brutal blow knocked aside with a dexterity that astounded.  Every step was perfect, every counter attack measured so as to not let a single opening in his defenses.  He was more than good; he was one of the most deadly opponents anyone watching had ever seen.

And, finally, inevitably due to her frustration, the Drev over-extended herself.  She launched a wild, lunging sweep to Cain’s left.  Once more, he knocked it aside, then followed with a blindingly swift counter-attack.  Blow after blow rained down on the Drev, who did all she would to block the expertly executed counter, but finally, inevitably, with a twist and flourish of his chainsword, Cain knocked her spear from her hands.  Some of the watchers gasped.  Several applauded, mostly those who just won money.  Most just stood there, slack-jawed.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  

Well, at least Cain didn’t get pulped, thought Ramirez.  He did wonder, however, exactly what the implications this victory would have.  

Later That Night

Admiral Vir had assembled his council.  Simone’s idea to switch Cain with Vir had already borne fruit, and the two factions were already more calm.  However, this was not the only part of the plan.  He had sent his most trusted friends to find out as much as they could about the Imperials and the culture they came from.  While Drake’s report was helpful, for some reason, the Imperial’s home galaxy was represented only sketchily, so Adam had decided to have his most trusted crew snoop around for questions.  The results were...alarming.  

“I had a one-on-one talk with the regiment’s chaplain, Tope,” said Maverick.  “They are totally infatuated with religion, which can be a problem just by itself, but their religion is what’s most concerning.  They believe that their Emperor is a living, breathing, omnipotent and omnipresent god, who they worship to the fullest extent.  The Emperor is entombed,”  she checked a notepad she had with her, “I think.  Anyway, he was apparently immortal, which seemed ludicrous, and is sitting on a massive life support device called the Golden Throne of Terra, where he’s been fueling a massive interstellar navigational beacon called the Astronomican.  It's all really bizarre and seems really improbable, but that’s not the worst part.  The tenants of this religion are as follows.”  She cleared her throat and read of her notepad.  “One: the God-Emperor of Mankind once walked among men in their form and that He is and always was the one true god of humanity.  Two: The God-Emperor of Mankind is the one true god of humanity regardless of any beliefs previously held by any man or woman.  That means there isn’t any religious tolerance in their Empire, which already isn’t endearing me to them.  Three: it is the duty of the faithful to purge the heretic, beware the mutant and, uh, psyker?” she struggled over the unfamiliar word.  “And abhor the alien.  Which explains why they don’t like us.  Four: Every human has a place in the God-Emperor’s divine order.   Five: It is the duty of the faithful to unquestionably obey the authority of the Imperial government and their superiors, who speak in the Divine Emperor’s name,” she finished.  The table shared concerned looks.  

“This smacks of Fascism,” intoned Narobi.    

“I’m inclined to agree,” replied Adam.  “However, we only got our crew and their soldiers off each other’s throats, and their relationship with the non-humans on board have improved markedly.  We can’t jeopardize that now, as much as I dislike how this government sounds.  What else did you find?”

“Well, as you know, Cain fought and beat a Drev,” said Ramirez.  Adam had heard.  Actually, it was probably one of the best things that could have happened.  The Drev had a high sense of honor, and thus accepted Cain totally.  The Marines respected him for being able to win a fight with a Drev.  He commanded the total respect of any of the Omen’s fighting crew.  

“How good is Cain?” asked Sunny skeptically.  She was a Drev, who was busy helping Simone run the ship, and so didn’t see the fight.  She didn’t see how an overly-elaborate dressed human had been able to take a ten-foot tall member of her species.  

“He’s good.  Very good,” replied Ramirez with probably altogether too much excitement for the situation.  

“Exactly how good?” 

“He could probably give Adam a run for his money.  In the Iron Eye suit.”  Several low whistles and incredulous expressions greeted this information.  Adam was himself no slouch at hand-to-hand combat, and the Iron Eye suit was a series of armored prosthetic enhancements that made its wearer move faster, jump higher, fight stronger; plus there was the fact that it was armor, which meant that it was really hard for any weapon to penetrate.  The idea that a single non-enhanced human could take on an Iron Eye soldier was frightening.  

“Alright then.  Anything else?” asked Adam.

“I went to the armory.  The Imperials asked to store their spare weapons there.  Most of the stuff there...is like nothing I’ve ever seen.  Their main weapon seems to be a laser rifle which runs off of rechargeable batteries,” said Sunny.  Laser rifles?  Now that was interesting.  Adam Vir was, by his own admission, a sci-fi fanatic.  Now he wanted a laser rifle.  

“Well, despite what it seems, we should try and keep an open mind.  They seem to be very logical and level-headed,” he said.  There were nods of agreement around the table.  “If no one has any other comments, dismissed.”  Little did the crew of the Omen know, but Cain and the other Imperial officers were doing the same thing on their side of the ship.

“Well, what did you find?” Cain asked Major Broklaw.  

“Their government is called the Galactic Assembly.  It’s a big council where all the races of the galaxy sit down and discuss their problems,” Broklaw sneered.  

“Great.  A bounce of xenos-loving filth,” muttered Sulla, one of the captains.  Cain ignored her.

“Chaplain Tope?  What did you find?” he asked.

“They have many different religions, and before any of you start yelling ‘heretic!’, that is to be expected.  You see, they come from a place that is devoid of the divine radiance of the Emperor, and thus, their tendencies will probably go against the Imperial Creed.  That’s all right, though.  I’m sure that we can bring them into the loving light of the Emperor soon.”  Cain nodded with approval.  He liked Tope.  Tope wasn’t what he liked to refer to as an Emperor-bother, one of the people who thought that they should be praying, day in and day out; completely obsessed with religion.  Tope was more practical.  And Cain had found through a long military career that the Emperor helped those who helped themselves.  

“That’s good, then.  I must say that we should keep somewhat of an open mind about all of these people.  They are humans after all, albeit humans from a different galaxy.  They do not have the teachings of the Emperor to rely on.”  Most of the heads around the table nodded.  “Kasteen, what did you find about your new acting Commissar?” he asked with a smile.

“Well, first off, he was born on Holy Terra.”  That caused some low whistles and incredulous stares.  Despite there being no Emperor in Adam Vir’s galaxy, he was still born upon Holy Terra, the sacred homeworld of the human race.  That had to count for something, right?  

“Well, if we’re being led by a native-born Terran, then we’ll probably be in good hands.  No offense,” one of the captains shot a look at Cain.  He laughed.  No offense was taken.  

“Anything else?”

“What about the fight?” asked Sulla.  Cain shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile.  

“Those big aliens are good.  I just got lucky.”  Kasteen and Broklaw shared a look.  The Commissar was being too modest again.  In reality, he was probably the best swordsman either of them had ever seen.  But that was the Commissar.  A humble hero.

Well, on that note, that’s the story!  Endings are always the hardest to get right.  For any of you wondering how exactly Cain could have beaten a Drev, well, like I stated, he’s a very, very good swordsman.  Good enough to beat the terrifying opponents I mentioned during the duel, which if you want to know more about, just ask.  If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, thoughts, ideas, or id you just want to know more about any of these wonderful sci-fi universes, feel free to ask!  Wherever you are, have a wonderful day!   

[marvelmymarvelmaster]

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Series:

Dog Tags:  Dog tags. You didn’t know why, but something about them made them seem safe and secure, just like the man wearing them.

Wounded: Being wounded in war is inevitable and could happen to anyone at any moment. But when it’s you or the love of your life that gets wounded, how will either of you handle the pain and suffering.

Richard Winters:

Everything Was Red: Lewis Nixon was after your heart, but Winters wanted it first. In the end, though, you’d surprise them both with who you would choose. (Lieutenant!Reader)

Really?: You always thought it was funny that Richard was shaving in the middle of the winter, so you decided to distract him. (Captain!Reader)

Um, Excuse You!: Eindhoven was fun until a woman kissed Richard in front of you which caused Richard to have to kiss you to stop you from murdering the woman. (Captain!Reader)

Liar:  Lewis Nixon lied to you. He told you he wasn’t married, even went so far to tell your mutual best friend Richard Winters that same lie. When you find out, though that he was lying to you for over 2 years, is when you find out who truly loves you. (Captain!Reader)

Forever and Always: He was working too hard, you saw that. The regiment didn’t. By the time you got him pulled away from the typewriter, he was still reeling over the events. All he wanted, was for you to just hold him. (Major!Reader)

Copycat: Showing up to Toccoa with a strong head on your shoulders, you were determined to make your company, Easy Company, the best in the 506th. You were bold and unshakable, but Sobel still seemed to try and knock you down. But he was nothing but a Copycat, and with Richards help, you saw that as true. (Captain!Marshall!Reader)

Mama And Her Babies (3 Parts; Continuing): Being a medic for Easy and married to the Captain are no easy feats. Luckily, no one knows about your marriage to Dick other than the higher-ups so the men treat you no differently. Will the secret come out? (Medic!Marshall!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

(More parts will be added as I continue this series. Check Back for Updates)

My Secret: Hiding your relationship from your father was harder than you both thought. But could you do it successfully?? (Captain!Sink!Reader)

I Want You: He looked so good under these lights with the little bit of scruff that dusted his jawline. His whole appearance made you want to jump him, and you normally could. But your father was across the table. (Captain!Sink!Reader)

Lewis Nixon:

Aim For My Heart (15 Parts; Will Not Continue): As a Female Snipper for Easy company, you certainly do get a lot of attention, but the only attention you want is from Lewis Nixon. In the deadly mix called love in a war in which you had no business being in, will you and Lew make it out alive (A love story I mean come on!) (Sniper!Marshall!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

(More parts will be added as I continue this series. Check Back for Updates)

Warmth: You just wanted to get warm, and the only warmth you could get was in Lew’s arms. (Captain!Marshall!Reader)

Sick: You’re sick so Lew cuddles with you.

Drunk: As a first-time drinker, you get very drunk before all of you ship out. You get so drunk to the point where Lew has to take you away so you can rest. Drunk tears ensue. (Lieutenant!Reader)

Lipstick: Aldbourne had everything. Food, beer, pretty women. You liked 2 of the 3 things, and when Lew starts to notice your mood going south, he steps in to reassure you that you’re the only girl he wants. (Lieutenant!Reader)

A Lie:  The drinking was getting too much. You tried to make him stop, but in the end, he just drifted farther and farther away. Lucky for you, Ron was there for it all, but will it stop your bleeding. (Captain!Reader) (Features Speirs)

When I Was Older… (3 Parts; Finished): Working side by side with the man you secretly love but openly hate is hard work. He tells you that your plans aren’t smart, but he knows deep down that they are indeed lifesavers. But when he doesn’t take your word and it winds up in 100 dead men, you two have an explosive fight, and words are said. Some were hurtful… Some were what you wanted to hear all along. (Captain!Intelligence!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Drunken Words Are Just Sober Thoughts: One night of you being drunk with Lew at a bar causes you to be sillier than your normally serious self. But then you mutter out some words, and he questions who you really are when you aren’t in charge and if you really meant it. (Captain!Reader)

Exhaustion: After a long day on the field all you wanted was to be in Lewis’s embrace. He gives you just what you need.  (Captain!Reader)

You’re So Far Up My Ass: Eindhoven scared you. All the people suffocated you which made you stay close to Lew. What was truly bad, was seeing the woman being sheared like cattle. That’s what made you cling onto Lew for dear life.

I’m Not Sick: You told him you weren’t sick and kept on commanding the men while in Bastogne. But your sniffles and sneezes didn’t go unnoticed in the little town of Foy and that’s when Lew put his foot down. (Sick!Captain!Reader)

British Bastard:  Ever since you walked into that office to talk to your father the British Colonel had his eyes on you. Lew and you weren’t yet dating, but would flirting with the British man push that train along? (Captain!Sink!Reader)

Fire on Fire: You loved him, you really did… But the drinking became too much and with the predicament, you were in, things had to change. You didn’t know if the change had to be from him or you… But you knew it would be bad. (Captain!Winters!Reader)

Ronald Speirs:

Cigarette?: You had heard stories about the ruthless Speirs, but when you hear how someone taking a Cigarette from him will die, you try to show the men that you aren’t afraid.

Idiot (2 Parts; Finished): Ronald Speirs had always gotten on your nerves. Whether it be fighting the biggest person at the school or running through open fire on the battlefield. He was your best friend, but you hated him when he acted like such an idiot. (Medic!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Promote Me, Love Me (12 Parts; Will Not Continue): You have one goal in this war, to rise faster in the ranks than Ronald Speirs from Dog Company. The only problem, you’re hopelessly in love with the crazy man. Will it mess up your chance to be better than the arrogant careless man, or will it make you realize that ranks aren’t everything when it comes to love? But when you find out that your best friend Carwood Lipton has been hiding feelings for you, what will you choose in the end? Speirs, Lipton, or that Golden Rank you’ve dreamt of since you were just a little girl, only war will make that decision. (Lieutenant!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Silent Affairs: No one knew about you and Ron sneaking around and you liked it that way. But when he gets moved to Easy Company, things get difficult. (Lieutenant!Reader)

Despicable: He needed you to leave him… So he pushed you till you did. And it was absolutely despicable. (Medic!Reader)

Bad Guy: Who was the bad guy? You or him? You liked him when he was mad and unlike others, you weren’t scared of him.

Guilt: You were tired of the back and forth that Ron played with your fragile heart. He liked you one minute and then ignored you the next. So you decided to make his life a living hell. (Sergeant!Marshall!Reader)

Tomorrow Is Another Day (Will Not Continue; Sequel to Old Memories, Same Crush): After George Luz finds out that you are the same girl from high school, he’s heartbroken from your lies. Confiding in Ronald Speirs, you find love again and this time, it feels correct. However, a moment in the woods sparks feelings between you and George that you wish would just go away. Will you stick to your guns and stay with Ron? Or will George’s persistence win you back? Only time will tell. After all, Tomorrow Is Another Day. (Medic!Reader)

Part 1

Celebration?:  Your hair was everything to you. Partly because it took you so long to grow it out, but mainly because it made you feel feminine when surrounded by men. So losing it, would be devastating. (Medic!Reader)

Mean: Most times Speirs could be mean and most times you stayed quiet. Sometimes you spoke up. (Shy!German-American!Reader)

Carwood Lipton:

My Sick Baby: Carwood was sick with Pneumonia, as you checked up on him you soon realized he needed to sleep so with some force, you got him to do just that. (Medic!Reader)

Scars: Ever since Lip got blown back by the tank shell, he’s been ashamed of his scars, but you reassure him you love him either way.(Medic!Reader)

Eindhoven: When a lady kisses Lips cheek, your jealousy sparks and he has to put out the fire.

Cuddle: You just want to cuddle with Carwood, it doesn’t matter to you whether he is upset with you, freezing his ass off or sicker than a dog, you just want to touch him 24/7.

You’re Being Naughty:  when you got drunk, you got naughty. But you didn’t think it would bother your best friend until he snapped at you in the middle of the bar. (Sink!Reader)

Sick Kisses: He didn’t want to kiss you when he was sick, but you didn’t care. (Medic!Reader)

Please Kiss Me:  Not now, not when he was sick. You were a medic, you should know better but you didn’t care. You couldn’t even remember what he tasted like, something that frustrated the life out of you. Would he cave in? (Medic!BabySisterSpeirs!Reader)

Joseph Liebgott:

In Denial: Joe and you always got on each other’s nerves, but how long will it take before you both realize how in denial you are about how much you love each other.

Showers: As a female soldier, you never really get to shower alone and in private. When two men have wandering eyes and nasty words, it makes you a little self-conscious and your boyfriend a little hot-headed.  

Hot Head: Joe’s jealousy really does get the best of you sometimes, but when it turns into pure rage that makes him ignore the fact that he’s hurt is when you have enough. (Medic!Reader)

Jealous Hearts and Wounded Bodies: (Sensing a theme?) Joseph is always jealous of something, but you two aren’t even dating, so what gives? When you push the limits and flirt with David Webster in front of him, all hell breaks loose. When you are wounded, though, that’s when the real truth comes out.

Ich Liebe Dich: Just Joe bugging you in English, so he says I love you in German to make you swoon.

Wicked Game: It was a wicked game, really. He made you fall in love with him with his sweet words when you were alone. Yet his sour remarks when you were around the others made you shut down and second guess it all. But you were falling madly in love with him… And it really was all just a wicked game.

Get Off: He didn’t enjoy you hanging off of him like a monkey. But when you start hanging off of Webster to get Joe riled up is when all hell breaks loose.

Taxi Ride: After the war, you and Joe went your separate ways. You became a Nurse and married a wealthy man. He became a taxi driver and prayed that you would cross paths. One late night you take a taxi home, and after you find out who will be driving you home, you decide your life needs to change. (Nurse!Married!Reader) (BoB!AfterWar)

Moved On: Joe thinks you moved on to a replacement when really, the replacement was coming onto you much to your dislike. When the replacement finally corners you in the bar, you don’t know who will snap first. You… Or Joe. (Medic!Reader)

Shut Up: He was getting on your nerves talking all that smack from those perfect fucking lips of his. You finally had enough, but you didn’t know what would happen after.

Pink Lips: Pink Lips… Those stupid fucking pink lips of yours had him hypnotized, even to the point of not being able to talk to you because he would be too busy staring at them. He finally has enough after nights and nights of nothing but dreams about you and those stupid, beautiful pink lips (Sink!Medic!Reader)

Jealousy Looks Good On You: Joe got jealous very easily and to you it was embarrassing. But when a girl hits on him in a bar, Joe likes what he sees. 

Bill Guarnere:

Protection:  Bill was always protective of you, and you were always in love with him. When push comes to shove, how long will it take for you to cough up your love for him, and for him to explain his motivations to protect you? (Medic!Reader)

Female Captain:  Entering boot camp later than everyone else has its downsides. You don’t have a similar bond with one another like the originals did and you certainly feel like an outsider. Entering as their new superior has a different sort of challenge, instead of feeling unwanted from the men, you felt it from Sobel. When the inferior NCO pushes you around, who will stand up to him first, you, or would someone else? (Captain!Marshall!Reader)

George Luz:

Shave: Geroge needed to shave, and you wanted a candy bar, so you found a way to get what you wanted.

Don’t Touch My Girl: George didn’t like how Liebgotts arm was on you during the ride to the next spot. Frustration ensues.

War Is No Place… (9 Parts; Will Not Continue): You had your eyes on George Luz since day one. Quickly, you fell in love with one another, but you soon realized that war is no place for a lot of things. Mainly, though, its no place for love. (Medic!Marshall!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

(More parts will be added as I continue this series. Check Back for Updates)

Don’t Be Stupid (2 Parts; Finished): When George comes back from the bar drunk and proclaiming that you were cheating on him with your best friend Lieb, you find out who told him such lies. And you go to confront them.

Part 1

Part 2

I Thought I Lost You: You were stationed in Bastogne because they needed extra hands. When George finds out about the bombings though, he falls into a depression because he thought he lost you. (Medic!Reader)

Clingy Lover: When in Aldbourne right before Operation Market Garden, you start to feel lovey-dovey and very clingy. Luckily for you, George loves when you are like this. But when Cobb says something that makes you shut down, you question whether being clingy is a good thing.

Old Memories, Same Crush (3 Parts; Finished): You knew George Luz from Rhode Island where you both went to high school. You had a major crush on him, but being the nerd and him being the class clown made it seem impossible. You got over your crush once you joined the Airborne, but then you run into him again. Something blooms.  (Medic!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe:

Touch: Being a medic really put a lot on you, but then you learn that your touch heals people, or so Doc tells you, kisses ensue. (Medic!Reader)

Medic Band: When you’re holding onto dear life, you also realize you’re holding onto Eugene’s medic band. With your blood all over him, he confesses how he feels.

Mon Ange De Neige: In the darkest part of the war, Eugene realizes how he is slowly falling in love with you, his Mon Ange De Neige, Angel of snow. (Lots of French. I have no regrets) (Medic!Reader)

Boo-Boo: It was a boo-boo. The graze on your shoulder didn’t put your life at stake. Doc didn’t care though, a wound was a wound. All you wanted though, was for him to kiss it and make it feel better

Red Nose: He was so cold and his nose seemed to be permanently red. While in the town of Foy, Winters mentions to you that Eugene needs a break to warm up and relax from the hell he just went through in Bastogne. You couldn’t agree more and you make it your mission to fix the broken and frozen man in your arms. (Medic!Reader)

Accent: You always found the way that the Louisianan talked to be amusing. You just didn’t expect it to make your heart race either.

Stars: You were seeing stars after the bullet hit your shoulder, but you didn’t realize the stars were just Roes eyes shining in the moonlight as he hovered over you. (Medic!Injured!Reader)

Floyd Talbert:

Two Can Play At That Game: You and Floyd split in fear of losing one another. When you come to the town of Eindhoven and see him kissing a girl just to get you riled up, you finally snap and decide that two can play at that game. (Sergeant!Reader)

Stabbed And Dazed: You were still new to the whole, Medic thing, and the only way to get better was to practice on wounds. You just wished it wouldn’t be a stab wound from someone you liked, and when the morphine kicked in, his words would make your head spin. (Medic!Reader)

Joe Toye:

Joey Baby, I Love You: When you get clipped in the jaw by Liebgott while trying to break up the fight between him and Bill, Joe comes up to show you some love and promises you that no one will hurt you.

You Wanna Repeat That?: You were just trying to do your job, but when one annoyed private complains to the wrong man, your boyfriend, a heated argument results. (Medic!Reader)

Buck Compton:

Lost Without You: Buck was your everything, your rock, your love. Your life. So when he’s pulled off the line for witnessing Toye and Guarnere being hit, how will you survive in the hell without him?

Donald Hoobler:

Surviving: When Don shoots himself with his Luger and his life rests in your hands and Docs, will you be able to save him? (Medic!Reader)

Edward Heffron:

Don’t Be So Smug: He was so smug and handsome at the same time… You wanted to hate it… But that only made you love him more.

My Baby: While his nickname was ‘babe’ to everyone else, ‘baby’ was his nickname from you and you alone. So when some of the men catch on to the pet peeve of yours when someone calls him baby, they do all they can to push your buttons. Possessiveness ensues. (Sergeant!Reader)

Just Kiss Me: He was being cheeky by not giving you a kiss. Which leads you to become clingy and needy. But don’t worry, he likes it.

You’re Adorable: You think he looks adorable in the lighting and then you just gather the courage to tell him how you really feel.

No Warmth: Julian. While Babe hated sharing your guys’ foxhole with him, you could see the love that he had for the younger boy. The problem was, that you mainly saw that love after Julian died and when Babe seemed too broken to heal.

Hurt: You were shot, it wasn’t deep and it was just in your shoulder, but it made you rethink everything. While the bullet hurt you, your absent demeanor hurt Babe. (Medic!Reader)

Drinks: Babe had just dumped you and you were getting drunker and drunker by the minute. Lucky for you, there were a bunch of British soldiers who couldn’t keep their hands off of you as they kept you well… Hydrated (aka Drunk). You didn’t see the issue, but Babe certainly did.

Get Me Sick: It was so cold, you were sick, and you were being so stubborn. The perfect mixture that made you distance yourself from your lover only because you didn’t want to get him sick as well. But he was having none of it. (Medic!Reader)

Donald Malarkey:

I Lost You: Donald Malarkey was always in your dreams, some were better than others, and then there were those that paralyzed you in fear. You couldn’t lose him, and the only way to calm you from those dreams were him himself. Luckily, he was always there for those scary nightmares.

Freckles: Seasons may come and go. His freckles may fade and appear. But through it all, your love for him never changes.

Protection: The Replacement was drunk and you were frozen in fear. When Don saw the whole predicament, he wouldn’t go easy on the man that touched his girl. Oh no, the newbie would pay.

You’ve Got A Lot To Learn: You were trying to be nice and courteous to the new Lieutenant. Meaning you made sure Don didn’t completely rip into him with sarcasm. While you are sweet and generous, the kid’s got a lot to learn. The first thing to learn is not to mess with you or he’s gonna a very nasty realization. (Major!Sink!Reader)

Six Feet Under: You didn’t know how to fix it. Fix any of it. His friends dying killed him, but him not opening up really put your relationship six feet under.

Giggles: Even when you’re upset, whether it be with him or another person, he always found a way to make you giggle. (Sergeant!Reader)

Mine (2 Parts; Finished): Don had called off the relationship, yet it felt wrong to make out with Joe right in front of him. You lied to yourself by saying you did it because you liked Joe, but all you wanted was Don back. And what you wanted, you got.

Part 1

Part 2 (SMUT)

So Goddamn Beautiful:  To him, you were always so beautiful. Whether you were covered in someone else’s blood or fresh out of the shower. It didn’t matter to him, you were just always so goddamn beautiful. (Medic!Reader)

In Your Place: You were talking back and doing things to rile him up. You knew what you were doing… You wanted him to put you in your place.

You’re Clingy, Big Deal: After someone makes fun of your clinginess in the bar. No one makes Don’s girl feel bad, especially when it’s about something he adores.

Watch: Sad Angst… No real synopsis and it’s short… so???

Fallen: You have always been pushed around for being Sinks daughter, but when you actually hit the ground is when you finally break. Don is there to catch you, but its not just you that he catches. He catches the love bug as well. (Sink!Reader)

Johnny Martin:

Watch Your Mouth: No one talked back to his girl. No one. So when one replacement gets a little mouthy towards you when you were simply trying to patch him up, Johnny steps in and puts him back in his place. (Medic!Reader)

In This Mess?: Martin was struggling, you could see that. When you find out that you’re pregnant, you think things will go smoothly. But he is not one happy daddy. (Wife!Medic!Reader)

David Webster:

Leave Him Alone: You had enough of your best friend teasing and bullying poor Webster. Partly because you wanted everyone to be kind, partly because you liked David.

Where Were You?!:  When David comes back from the hospital after you lose everything, he questions why you of all people are giving him the cold shoulder. The reason is, you needed him, and he wasn’t there. (Medic!Reader)

HEADCANONS:

I Love You: Richard Winters, Lewis Nixon, Eugene Roe

Confessing Feelings: Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, George Luz

[softschofield]

What were the army ranks in ww1?

actually, they were essentially the same as they are now in the UK! in ascending order, you had:

the enlisted ranks, which make up the bulk of any army and are below the commissioned ranks - in most cases, the non-commissioned officers (NCOs/non-coms; anyone between a lance corporal and a warrant officer 1st class was an NCO, with lance corporal being the lowest ranking non-com rank and therefore referred to as a junior NCO) ran things on the ground and were generally trusted more by enlisted men - and seen as vastly more competent - as their experience was first-hand; 

sergeants, in particular, were generally older than their superiors, the lieutenants, and had, in many cases, been in the army before the beginning of the war, but battlefield commissions were and still are a rare thing and they rarely advanced into the commissioned ranks, meaning you had forty-year-old, experienced sergeants taking orders from 19-year-old lieutenants fresh out of officer school: 

private (cooke, rossi, malky, kilgour, parry, atkins, etc.) - the lowest rank;

lance corporal (schofield, blake) - in charge of a fire team of 2-4 soldiers, with their role being to ensure that their men operated as a cohesive unit; they were also typically the second-in-commands or heads of sections, of which there were 4 within each platoon, each comprising around 10 soldiers, meaning blake and schofield were likely the deputy heads of different sections in the same platoon and that they would have answered directly to a different corporal each; 

corporal 

sergeant (sanders) - spelled serjeant in the first world war; the second-in-commands of platoons, which were made up of between 3 and 4 sections;

staff sergeant 

warrant officer 2nd class (sergeant major)

warrant officer 1st class

just to get our heads around that properly, a lance corporal was in charge of 2-4 individuals in a fire team and also acted as the second-in-commands of sections, of which there were 3-4 and which were each led by corporals; and those 3-4 sections went into 1 platoon, which was commanded by a lieutenant with a sergeant as second-in-command. 

each platoon consisted of around 25-50 men, and there were four or so platoons in each company, meaning one company would average around 150 soldiers; and each company, generally lettered as A, B, C, etc., fitted into a battalion - which, in the case of scho and blake, was the 8th (service) battalion. battalions fitted into regiments (east surrey, yorkshire, devonshire, etc.), which fitted into divisions, which fitted into corps, which fitted into an army. 

generals, the field marshal, and the commander-in-chief then commanded the armies and the entire theatre of war as a whole. 

then! after the enlisted ranks, you had:

the officers:

second lieutenant - the most junior commissioned officer; 

lieutenant (first lieutenant) (leslie, gordon, richards, joe) - the second most junior officer, generally in charge of a platoon;

captain (smith) - generally the second-in-command of a company, under a major;

major (hepburn) 

colonel (collins, mackenzie) - the most senior officer rank under the generals;

brigadier

brigadier-general

major general

lieutenant general

general (erinmore) 

field marshal (”general of the armies”)

commander-in-chief (general sir john french (1914-1915), general sir douglas haig (1915-1918), general ferdinand foch (march 1918-1920) - in charge of all the british armies in france and beligum known as the british expeditionary force (BEF). when the french and british armies were essentially merged in 1918, the french chief of staff, foch, became the supreme allied commander until the end of the war. if scho enlisted in 1916, he therefore would have had haig as his commander-in-chief for the entirety of his military career until we meet him in april 1917.

hope that helps, my love!! this was so much fun ♡ x 

[getbacktoworknovice]

Blog Bois; Intro

[Hey guys~! I wrote up this little intro for my bois so y’all could get to know them and get an idea of what the’re like~ They also live on this blog so if you want to ask them anything or learn about them all you have to do is ask~ I hope you all like them~]

Jack had his tongue poked out in concentration, wanting to make sure he had the mixture nice and even as he poured it into the pan. Next to casseroles and curry, cakes were his favorite thing to make in the kitchen. He made them from scratch and he was always trying something new with the icing and presentation, especially when it came to his cake decorating classes, but today he was keeping it simple as he was just baking for his roommates. 

One of them, his cousin Aiden, had left about an hour ago, wanting to take some pictures of the rainfall as it was pouring outside. Jack had gotten him a waterproof case for his phone as a present as Aiden had spent so much money replacing screens and headphone jacks. It had been a very good investment. 

As if on cue, Aiden came in the back door, shaking the rain out of his hair though it wasn’t helping at all. He was soaked. Jack blinked curiously at his cousin as the man hung his jacket on one of the hooks they’d hung by the backdoor and came over to sit at the bar-style breakfast nook they used as a table, setting his camera bag on top. 

"You know that jacket has a hood right? " Jack asked him curiously as Aiden dug out his camera. The reddish brown-haired man looked up at him like he had no idea why that would matter.

“I like the way the rain feels,” He said, beckoning his younger cousin over. “Come, come, look at the pictures I took.” He insisted, wanting to share. Jack shook his head with a smile, hopping over to take a peek at his pictures. 

“I thought you were going to use your phone?” Jack asked as Aiden cycled through the pictures, showing him the ones he had taken of the cloudy, rainy outdoors. 

“I did at first but I swapped them because my camera doesn't take as good of a picture.” He said. Once Aiden had finished showing him the pictures he looked up and finally seemed to realize that jack was in the middle of something. “Oh, what are you making?” He asked curiously as Jack seemed to realize that he hadn't finished his cake yet. 

“Oh!” He said scurrying back over to the pan. “I’m making a red velvet cake for dessert tonight, I’m making chicken caesar wraps for dinner since it's Wednesday.” He explained and Aiden groaned, putting his camera back in its bag. 

“Ugh, I wish it was Saturday, I hate waiting for his cheat day to have something fried.” He admitted, resting his cheek in his hand. Vincent, the third roommate who had been friends with Aiden since high school, followed a pretty strict regiment with his workout and was very serious about his physical health. The man was a machine. Since Jack was in charge of the kitchen he had wanted to make meals that everyone could enjoy instead of Vincent having to buy and prepare his own meals separately. So they had all agreed to follow his eating habits as they were better for them anyway.

But boy did Aiden miss his fried foods. 

“That's what the cake is for,” Jack assured him as he put it in the oven, switching on the oven light to keep an eye on it as the oven had already preheated and then moved to prepare dinner. Aiden got up and both stopped in their movements when they heard a thumping from upstairs. 

“Ah speak of the devil,” Aiden said as Jack giggled. Since it was raining outside Vincent had to do his workout routine inside. He never went to a gym and did all his exercises and activities at home or at work. So instead of going for a run, he was up in his room running in place. It made a lot of noise. “I’ll go tell him dinners being made.’ Aiden offered, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards the stairs.

The townhouse they all shared was cozy with a lot of personal touches from all of them making the place really feel like home. Aiden had some of his favorite photos on display next to posters of cute anime girls that Jack liked and artwork that Vincent had done. Vincent had insisted on just tossing them in the trash but Jack had framed them so he felt like they had to stay. 

The bookshelves they had were littered with books of all types. Photography books, cookbooks, workout books, fashion, and art books for various movies and games. Cups of random things like pens and pencils and measuring cups were here and there as well as a few snowglobes from Aidens collection. Aprons and workout gear were scattered around the living room as well as jackets and clothes and shoes. 

Aiden knew they needed to clean up soon and he was waiting for a day they were all off as he made them both help him clean. Aiden was the most organized and responsible of the three so he handled pretty much everything in terms of running the house. The budget, the cleaning, the reorganizing, and disinfecting that was all on him. Vincent and Jack weren’t lazy by any means just busy, well jack more so than Vincent. 

Jack was a culinary student at the local college where Aiden used to go and Vincent...well, Vincent was a different story. Aiden knocked on his door, hearing the running in place stop as he poked his head in. 

Vincent was stretching his arms when he looked over at him. “Sorry, rains got me a bit stir crazy.” He said, thinking he had come to get on his case about the noise he was making. Aiden shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Nothing to apologize for just wanted to let you know Jack’s making chicken caesar wraps for dinner.” He explained as Vincent stretched out his back. Aiden heard a very loud pop. 

“Oh cool, those are always good,” He said sitting down to stretch his legs. “Reminds me I need to go to the store and get some more salad, we’re almost out.” He said and Aiden nodded. 

“I put it on the list.” He said, giving Vincent a curious yet knowing look. “How was work?” He asked and Vincent only gave him a look in response. Currently, Vincent worked at a warehouse that manufactured car parts and he was the youngest of all the workers. The work wasn't bad but because he was young he got a lot of flack from the older guys, especially in terms of strength. He always worked his ass off but it never seemed to be enough, his hours just kept getting cut. 

He hated it. 

“About as good as it always goes.” Was all Vincent said, groaning a bit as he felt a muscle in his leg pull a bit, easing off of it and leaning back on his hands with a sigh. “I know I’ve been short on rent the past few months but I’m lookin’ for another job, I got an interview at the convenience store on the corner tomorrow and I think it’ll be a pretty easy get.” He said. “The pay is crap but they’ve got the hours so…” He said. “I’m gonna try and make it up to you.” He said honestly and Aiden couldn't help but feel bad. 

Aiden himself had gone to college and graduated and gotten a job in a field he loved and a well paying one at that. Jack was a student but already had a job at his favorite restaurant, tutoring under a really sweet older guy who already wanted to give the kid a permanent place in his staff once he graduated. Vincent...had a bit of a rougher go at things. 

He graduated college but he struggled to find a job in his major and he’d been trying to find one for three years. No one would hire him because of his lack of experience but he worked harder and learned faster than anyone Aiden knew and he had no idea how it felt to not be able to do the thing he loved. It really made him feel for Vincent. 

He never showed it but it depressed him greatly. 

“Well, I may have something part-time you could do.” Aiden offered and Vincent looked up at him curiously. 

“What like be a photographer? I’m terrible at that.” He said as he had never taken a decent picture in his life. Aiden laughed.

“Oh God no, I’d never put you behind the camera,” he insisted making the other man grumble at him. “No I was thinking of putting you in front of one.” He said and vincent gave him a curious look. 

“Okay…” He said and Aiden dug through his camera bag, pulling out a business card and crossing the room to hand it to him. Vincent looked it over curiously, seeing it was a pretty simple card with a very...fun logo.

“I work with a guy who goes to conventions, big ones all over the world,” Aiden explained. “He does cosplay videos and interviews and he’s looking for models to start his own kind of group to take with him for advertising purposes.” He explained and Vincent looked a bit more interested. “I take the cosplay photos for him sometimes when I can make it to conventions and do those paid photoshoots,” he said. 

“Okay, so what, you want me to carry his stuff around?” Vincent asked sarcastically, as Aiden and Jack always joked about him being the mule since he was the strongest of them. Aiden shook his head. 

“No, he’s looking for models dum dum,” Aiden teased, pointing at him. “You’d be perfect, especially for his Marvel stuff,” Aiden said and Vincent blinked.

“You want me to be a cosplayer?” Vincent said incredulously. 

“A professional cosplayer yes,” Aiden said. “The money is good and you get to travel and you get to meet new people all while being dressed up like Captain America or Ruroni Kenshin,” Aiden said, naming two of his favorites. Vincent perked a little at that, looking at the card with renewed curiosity. “Just give him a call,” Aiden said. “There’s no harm in trying right?” He assured him and Vincent gave a hum of thought before hearing Jack call from downstairs. 

“Dinners ready guys~!” 

Aiden turned and left the room, going to his own to put his camera bag away and Vincent got up, putting the card on his desk and tapping it a bit before moving to head downstairs. 

Dinner was pretty basic in terms of conversation, Jack talking about classes and Vincent listening while dropping a sarcastic quip here and there with Aiden just listening quietly. It was the same routine as every night and Aiden couldn't help but wonder if perhaps that would change soon. 

[sirro85-blog]

Dark Horses 5

Kovac hoved into view, his face caked in congealed with blood, his eyes bright through the grime, his mouth split into a grin.

"Do you feel the joy of it? The everliving fucking joy," his voice was animated and loud, "I tell you now, you'll never feel as alive as you do right now!"

Kovac looked around, his movements feral, "I love this job," another mad grin, "you'll never feel alive again!"

Costa jerked awake and looked around, he was slumped in a chair, around him soldiers worked. Staff Sergeant Frank King was binding Butlanska's wounds.

"You doing ok trooper?" Asked a voice.

Costa looked up feeling dazed, "uh, yes ma'am," he responded.

"Very good trooper, come with me," said the Quartermaster.

Something sparked in Costa's numb brain, "you called me trooper, ma'am."

"I did, would you rather I change?" Came the response.

"No, no trooper is good, ma'am" Costa said stumbling after the large woman, he'd never enjoyed being called "Cherub"

Ten minutes later Costa was sat at a table tucking into a plate of food, he had clean clothes and had enjoyed a brief shower, now the Quartermaster had produced cottage pie and vimto seemingly by magic and he was filling up on his favourite meal. The Quartemaster stood nearby, he could tell she wasn't watching him.

Captain Dorman and Sergeant Webb approached, they both stopped a distance off as the Qm's baleful glare turned to them, "evening Qm, I wanted a chat with Trooper Costa, debrief him after his escapades with the Major."

"Later."

"I was rather, er hoping, he's in our command...welfare," the Captain trailed off.

"I've got him right now, Major told me, you can talk later Hero, take Plank and get about your day," spoke the Qm.

Costa, feeling more alert and less dazed appreciated the peace, he respected his Troop commander and his sergeant but this period of calm made him feel whole again, he watched the two men walk away. He felt even better when Ty was brought across to sit with him.

"Here you go Mouth," said the Qm handing a bottle of iced tea to Ty, it was his favourite brand.

His meal finished Costa felt renewed, The Qm gave him a nod and walked away. A minute or so later Major Kovac appeared and patted Ty on his uninjured arm.

"Damn good to see you in one piece trooper," Costa here went through the ringer keeping you alive, would've been a damn shame to waste that effort," he turned to Costa, "Costa, tell Sergeant Webb I said you can carry that kukri anywhere you want." The Major nodded to them both and walked off. Ty placed his hand over Costa's and they sat in silence for a while.

"Cherub, Mouth stop lazing about holding hands and piss off back to work the pair of you," yelled the Qm and the two troopers ran for it.

The Dark Horses fortified their positions and scouts were sent out to check the secondary Bartuq positions.

Barbie stopped running and lay down on the floor, "It's too much, it's too damn wet, this isn't air this is soup!"

Becca turned back and jogged over to her, "struggling Baps?"

"Fuck your skinny ass Becca, this is too damn hot. Its a jungle, its like 1000% humidity," gasped Panther dropping to her knees beside the prone Barbie.

"Come on, it's not so bad, we round this headland and comeback down by the river, one of the rivers, we'll make it about 12k back to base." Becca said jogging round her two friends.

Knickers slowed to a stop and bent at the waist, gasping for breath, "If we, kill her here, we can, dump the body, in the river, and claim, she went on, ahead."

"Oh come on, it's not all that bad we're over 2/3 done. Only a little more suffering left," Becca encouraged.

"Listen bitch," Barbie said rolling onto her knees, "you think just because you like pain the rest of us want this?"

"I don't like pain?"

"Really!? Hurt-me-Daddy-Becca doesn't like pain? Choke-me-Daddy-Becca isn't enjoying being short of breath?" Scoffed Panther.

Becca stopped jogging on the spot, "I don't call Kovac Daddy."

"No? What do you call him? Master?" Panther hooted, "Major!!?"

"Oh Major, yes sir, I'll do anything you order Major, do you salute?"

Becca pouted and rounded on Panther, "what about you? Do you call Wolf sir while on your knees?"

Panther gave a peal of laugher, "fuck off, he calls me a goddess before we even start, he only outranks me out here, we all know Kovac is the big dog everywhere."

"Speaking of the big-dog, has the Major made a decision about this second position we need to capture?" Asked Barbie looking from her troop commander to her Sergeant.

"Nothing yet, but you can trust the Major will have a plan," answered Knickers.

Barbie nodded accepting this fact and gestured to the path, "shall we get this over with?" They started to jog down the track.

Kovac was sitting with Wolf in his office, "the plan has to be simple Wolf, there is no magic trick to this, we breech and we force them south onto the savannah and any survivors get mopped up by Towoli security forces at a later date, once the second defensive structure is captured they're finished as a power," Kovac spread his hands.

Wolf nodded, "look, overall it's a good plan but the idea of this being a rapid breech entry job, it's a bit...old fashioned."

"RBE is a classic because it works, long and short of it is, we need to get in and we need to do it fast, Dorman will breech, Becca will push in and you will sweep. I'll have Gilly set up the gunners to drive any escaping frogs south." Kovac stood, "once the Qm has the ordinance redistributed we'll give orders."

The Dark Horses were a unique force in the galaxy, taken wholesale from a regiment that had taken heavy losses they had all been trained to the same standard and even for human military were considered highly trained. I found during my time with these humans that I took their training for granted, these were not the human standard, these were the heights humanity could reach in this area. Twinned with this complacency was an amazement that humans could train, could learn a skill and develop it to a level of brilliance even to other humans. Most races known were born to their specific tasks in society.

Of course all species could develop or enhance a skill but none could break a typecast like humans could.

When the Dark Horses attacked the Bartuq defence, I realised I was watching military unit that had been working together and been led by the same officers for over a decade.

It looked like the fluid parts of a machine, 3 troop stole forwards in the gloom and placed their charges, they breached the outer perimeter and Becca led 2 troop forward, flooding the breach and securing a position. Fortified by Dorman's 3 Troop Becca pushed on and Wolf came behind to support them. Within the hour the Bartuq compound was captured.

I joined Becca and Kovac on the ridge watching the Bartuq stream out into the grasslands, their numbers greatly diminished.

"Tough bit of work that," Becca muttered.

"Butchers bill mercifully short," replied Kovac.

"Won't have to listen to Grey's guitar practice for a while," Becca said.

"Aye, hopefully Frank won't be able to save all his function in that arm."

This is a human habit, making cruel comments to alleviate a situation, they call it humour, or friendship.

Armoured vehicles poured out of a group of hills attacking the Bartuq.

"Oh fuck, what's this fart-waffle?" Asked Gilly as he joined the two officers.

Kovac cursed softly, "It's the Earth Defence Corps."

"What are the EDC doing? What are they doing here? Fucking cowboys," Becca asked.

"Forget that, that's, what? Three squadrons? Of bloody interceptor class Chimera armoured light cav, that means they must have deployed at batallion level, so they have at least a regiment of support infantry, two? They must have more armour and combat support arms to support that too...they've either deployed a goddamn Brigade of troops to this rock or they're even more incompetent than I give credit." Kovac said, his voice stunned.

"So the cannon fodder have come in strength, what else is new? If they didn't deploy a brigade to do a platoon's job they wouldn't be able to lose as many men as they like to do," Becca said shrugging.

"No, they've deployed a brigade of human troops on the border of Xhost held territory!" Kovac said, turning around and looking at the sky, "you can't do that quietly."

"Kov, does it matter? I mean..." Gilly was turning to Kovac but cut off as the Major turned and ran down the slope.

I've seen human panic and fear, I've also seen humans overcome that fear and direct it. This seemed to be what Kovac was doing

The Major was using his communicator, "all units return to the FOB, immediate withdrawal."

Gilly turned to Becca and gave a questioning gesture after Kovac, but Becca wasn't looking. She was staring at the sky.

Half a dozen Xhost warbirds were dropping in from low orbit, they dropped low over the EDC and began firing into the Chimera squadrons.

Becca had turned and streaked away, Gilly opened his communicator up and started calling instructions to Griffin Battery.

A dreadnought class Xhost ship broke atmospher and I looked up on time to see a cloudburst, a dark, stinking rain fell across the savannah and onto the foliage the Dark Horses were retreating into, I felt it hit my exterior and it burned, I slowed and as more drops hit I blacked out.

I could hear voices, human voices.

"You both look ridiculous," laughed a familiar voice.

"Good to see you weren't caught in it."

"Listen, the implication that I had found somewhere to take a nap is a vicious rumour spread by my political enemies," that voice again.

"So you avoided it and Kovac avoided it but the rest of us got soaked, including the professor," said a third voice.

"Did it have any effect on you lot?"

"Made my eyes stream," said the second voice, a woman's.

The first voice, must be Wolf I realised, "lot of red eyes."

"Stinks and makes you cry, hardly a dangerous weapon," the third vice said.

"Killed the Bartuq survivors and a few drops overwhelmed the professor," said Gilly.

"So...what is it?" Asked Becca.

"Kovac says it's propenyl sulfenic acid, according to Petra."

"Sulfenic...onion juice!?"

"Basically," Wolf said apologetically.

"Explains why I'm craving hotdogs," said Gilly.

"So, what? They've used their bio-weapons and it gave me cravings, the Xhost aren't as tough as I remember them," Wolf said.

"Except, they've landed and formed a beachhead. Kovac has contacted the general for support...till then we're on our own, the onion juice devastated the Towoli numbers."

It should come as no shock that some of the galaxy's most potent biochemical weapons have been harnessed by humans for food, drink and recreation. Nicotinoid, cannabinoid, capsaicin ethanol and goitrin and thyocyanates. All accepted toxins in the human diet.

[da5haexowin]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 I want to hear about all of them

Oof ok I warned you the floodgates may never shut here. (So I posted an ask game earlier so what I did was I took questions 1-12 (few extra ocs sorry) and assigned them each to an oc and I'll answer in character ok here we go):

1.      Has your character ever done anything illegal?

Nyar: Up until recently, no. I was the captain of the youngest crew in the Regimental Fleet. I was the youngest decorated member of the Militia. I was very by the book. But then my crew of --disasters, had to go and commit treason and well they may be dumbasses, but they're my dumbasses so I had to go too. (Thane, from another room: you love us and you know it!)

2.      Favorite mode of transportation! Thane: I'm a trained co-piolt, so anything that flies is cool by me. But bike style speeders? Oh god I want me one of those.

3.      Are they a good cook?

Caelum: I burned rice once.

4.      Is physical health a major concern for them?

Avanda: Yes! I spent all of my time training to be a head medic and I cried when I got the assignment that I was to be in charge of a crew's health! When I saw the conditions that the Keridwen and Revolutionary MedBases were in, I cried again, but it was different.

5.      Would they last a day in the wilderness alone? Elaborate!

Carina: I think I would do ok for two, maybe three days. That was part of our training after all. But if I'm being honest, I scored really badly on survival tests like that.

6.      Are they good with kids? Do they like kids? (This can apply to child characters, too!)

Jalev: I think so, yeah! I love kids! They're so much easier to talk to than adults! Besides, they can say the craziest goofiest thing and then in the next second, make you question everything you've ever known. Kids are great!

7.      Is your character good at hiding their emotions?

Ewan: I suppose? I dunno. I've never really tried to. I mean as a royal guard, I do have to stand at attention for a long time with no expression, and as an advisor I have to stay diplomatic. (Avanda: by "diplomatic" he means he'll stop talking. You can still tell he's pissed, though. I can hear his teeth grinding from across the room.)

8.      Can your character keep a secret?

Adair: absolutely. Not a problem at all. I've had people say they forgot they told me something because I kept so quiet about it.

9.      Rate their verbal communication skills on a scale of one to ten, one being the worst and ten being the best. Ferret: I'm a solid 3. Unless we count sarcasm on a different scale. I get 74 on that scale. (Avanda: that....that is surprisingly accurate)

10.  Does silence bother your character? If so, what would they do about it?

Marin: nah not really no. I'm an assassin, so truth be told, sound bothers me more than silence does. Silence is safe. Its comfortable. Sound is tricky. Its a weapon, and it can turn on you way too fast.

11.  How do they feel about spiders? Peadair: I think they're really cool!! All those legs an' eyes??? I think the webs are icky, but I dont let 'Vanda squish 'm. I take 'em outside and let 'em go.

12.  Is your character prone to picking fights or non-confrontational?

Carrick: I'm twelve. I get in fights about as much as any other twelve year old. (Adair: no. No you get into way more fights than most other humans of any age. I've patched you up more than I've patched up some guys who get in bar fights twice a week.) Carrick: that's not fair. Some of those are from hunting! Or fighting with Peadair! And sibling fights don't count, Ewan said so!

[esonetwork]

Timestamp #TW16: To the Last Man

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-tw16-to-the-last-man/

Timestamp #TW16: To the Last Man

Torchwood: To the Last Man (1 episode, s02e03, 2008)

  A story of love and loss across time.

Cardiff, 1918: At the climax of World War I, Gerald Kneale and Harriet Derbyshire of the Torchwood Institute are investigating reports of ghost activity at St. Teilo’s Military Hospital. Heading into the ward, they see a bright light and a glimpse into the future where Tosh and a soldier named Tommy are huddled. Tommy tells the 1918 Torchwood team that they need to take his earlier incarnation from the recovery ward to ensure his existence in the future.

Cardiff, 21st century: Tosh dances about in her home as she gets ready for work, then goes to the Hub where Torchwood Three is about to awaken Tommy Brockless from cryogenic hibernation. Apparently, they have to revive him every twelve months, and Tosh is able to calm him down when he comes back to life.

Tommy settles in for a meal with the team, complimenting Tosh on her dress while he eats. Later on, during his examination, he recites name, rank, regiment, and parents’ death dates. Elsewhere, Jack briefs Gwen on the events from 1918 where time zones were colliding. Agents Kneale and Derbyshire left orders sealed with a temporal lock, and when the time is right, Tommy’s presence will prevent the temporal collision from spreading to the rest of the world.

Tosh takes Tommy outside for a day in the world while Gwen looks into the 1918 Torchwood team. Gwen decides to investigate the hospital. She finds a man with a missing leg who vanishes and a team of firemen who intend to demolish the building. Jack arrives soon after and theorizes that the workers may have released psychic trauma that has charged the Rift. As the workers continue to tear into the building, Jack feels a burst of energy and sees a man being wheeled down the hallway. Gwen sees an injured man in a chair being tended to by a nurse. Unlike all of the other ghost sightings, however, this time the nurse notices her. Gwen’s not supposed to be here, she says as she chases her back.

Tommy and Tosh share drinks over a pool game. Tommy sees news from hostilities in Iraq on the television and laments the fact that there is always a war somewhere. He asks if the human race is worth saving, and Tosh immediately says yes. He feels a bit of the psychic energy from the hospital before the pair head to the boardwalk. Tommy gives Tosh a kiss, but she returns some mixed signals before kissing him back. It’s evident that they’re falling for each other, but before anything else can happen, Jack calls them to the Hub.

Demolishing the hospital is the trigger.

After a briefing, the team heads for the hospital to start setting up rift monitors. Owen cautions Tosh about her relationship with Tommy, telling her that he doesn’t want to see her get hurt. Gwen calls them with a strange note from the 1918 report: “Through a hole in the external wall, we hear the roar of great engines. Outside is a woman in strange armor, ripping a Union Jack, perhaps some future heroine of the Empire.” Owen spots a car advertisement through a hole in the wall matching the description. Today is the day, punctuated by the Rift monitors alarming.

On cue, the temporal lock lifts and Jack reads through his orders from 1918. The instructions are for Tommy and Tosh: Tommy needs to be ready to jump through the fracture when it opens, leaving present Tommy trapped in the past after sealing the fracture with a Rift Manipulator.

Separately, Jack tells Tosh that Tommy will die three weeks after returning. His mind will revert to the way it was before being frozen, shell-shocked from the war, and he will be executed for cowardice. Tosh protests, but she has no choice.

Ianto pulls Tommy’s hospital attire out of storage, preparing him for his trip. Tommy then joins the rest of the team in the Hub and wonders what to do with the rest of his time. Tosh offers to take him to her place for the night. Back at the Hub, Ianto asks if Jack could return to his own time as well, but Jack wouldn’t want to sacrifice all of the amazing things he’s done since leaving home.

Both couples consummate their respective relationships, but Tosh’s is bittersweet.

At 6:30 am, the Rift monitors alarm and ghosts begin to appear. Tommy hears the 1918 Torchwood team speaking to his past self, realizing that Torchwood took him for this purpose, and he begins to question his role in this operation. He says that Torchwood is no better than the Army, knowing that if he goes back, he’ll be headed back to the front.

Tosh comforts him as the fracture begins. They find themselves in 1918 and Tosh tells Tommy that he has to step up and save the universe. He issues his orders to Torchwood 1918. before Tosh kisses him goodbye. Tommy heads to bed like he’d never been away.

Tommy watches as Torchwood 1918 takes his previous self away. As he climbs into bed, he doesn’t trigger the device. Tosh engineers a psychic projection so that someone can remind him to use the key. Tosh volunteers since Tommy trusts her the most. Once projected into the past, she helps him to activate the key and seal the fracture.

Tosh laments Tommy’s sacrifice as she packs his modern era clothes away. Jack thanks her as she leaves. Outside, Owen tells her that she saved the world. Tosh disagrees: Tommy saved the world.

But she wonders if humanity is worth it.

  It was great to see Naoko Mori in the spotlight as Tosh. The last episodes with her in a major role were Greeks Bearing Gifts and Captain Jack Harkness (also a time shift episode involving a world war), and they are few and far between. We also get a good look at the Torchwood Institute as it would have functioned closer to its inception.

There was a humorous callback to Doctor Who with Tommy’s remark about how silly it would be to save the world in pajamas. The Tenth Doctor embraced that silliness just after his regeneration.

Overall, this story was a breath of fresh air in a franchise that often deals with darkness and drama. It handled weighty issues like sacrifice and historical approaches to PTSD while letting the sun in for a little bit. That is much appreciated.

  Rating: 4/5 – “Would you care for a jelly baby?”

    UP NEXT – Torchwood: Meat

    The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

[nehasy]

Fractals

Escaflowne Movie:  Pre movie.  Chesta, Dilandau and Dragonslayers (some gore, explosions and portents of doom)

This is my Escaflowne Secret Santa for @drkstars.  You wanted movie Chesta so tadaaaa!!!  Sweet creepy mystical cinnamon bun!

_____

              He was floating weightless in the darkness, suspended in the nothingness which was the Other.  All around him, the starlight pierced the surrounding void with a cold cruel light, daring him to draw closer, to touch…  He knew better than to give in.  They were the false paths, seeking to lead him astray, to cast his mind into oblivion leaving his body a vulnerable empty shell.

              There were so many forces alive in this world that most never knew about, and fewer truly respected.  He’d seen what happened to those foolish enough to not respect the wild and capricious power which surrounded him.  Several of his peers had been reduced to drooling bags of meat, devoid of mind and soul, their minds burned out from their mental wanderings.  Those were the lucky ones.

              Other’s… well, their empty shells had become host to other forces, other beings. There were rumours whispered in the deepest depths of the Dragon temples that this was what had happened to Lord Folken. That he and his Seer had pushed themselves too far, taken one too many chances and been consumed by something that lurked in the darkness.  

              Wearing their flesh, it had risen in power within the Black Dragon Clan, dominating tribe after tribe, conquering kingdoms and villages alike, leaving nothing of their enemies but scorched earth and bleaching bone.

              “Show me their leader.”  A voice purred in his ear.  Youthful and hungry for battle, it was the voice of a dark spirit given flesh and Chesta couldn’t help but draw a mental comparison to his own lot in life.  Bound to an impure dragon, their fates intertwined upon the wings of destiny.  The will of his master guided his mind, casting it forth like a net towards the enemy camp nestled safely in the gulley a mile away, hidden from all but the sharpest-eyed scout.

              As if his eyes had been given flight, his vision sped across the forest, through the thick brush which disguised the tents of the camp.  He saw men and women gathered around the campfire finishing their thin meal of watery stew and sour wine.  They were tired and battle worn, but their spirits still high.  They’d been harassing the flank of the 45th regiment mercilessly, striking soundlessly in the night without warning or mercy.

              The past week alone, they’d killed Colonel Gilles and Major Raythe. Both had been formidable warriors and rather valuable to the war effort.  Worse, they’d dared to burn the supplies needed on the front lines and freed nearly a hundred prisoners!  They’d done it all and disappeared without a trace, leaving the Black Dragon Army in chaos and looking like fools!

              “A camp within the trees.”  He heard his own voice whisper in a distant monotone, as if something was speaking through him.  “A hundred men and women gather, warriors all.  They bear the banner of Restalos and vengeance is in their hearts.”

“Restalos?  I had no idea there were any survivors.  Hmph, Lord Folken is getting sloppy in his old age.”  The voice dripped with bitter scorn and he could feel the ambition burning behind the words, the predatory nature seeking any hint of weakness, ready to strike if given the slightest opportunity.  “What of the prisoners?”

“No sign.”  He breathed, studying the weapons of those gathered around the fires, seeking some meager warmth from the coming fall night.   Some distant part of his soul wished them what comfort they could glean from the flames, knowing that the icy finger of death would claim them all soon enough.  Even as he watched, he could feel the dark specter of death pressing down on them.  The fates twisting about the camp, every minute he watched, every minute they rested cutting off more paths of survival.  Death was watching, and he was hungry for blood.

“Give me a target Chesta.”  The voice growled, eager for violence, feeling the inevitability of a kill within his grasp.  The young seer couldn’t help but shudder slightly as his vision focussed on a tent hidden beneath the boughs of an ancient tree.  Within he could see two men and a woman, battle-scarred and strong, their eyes burning with the fierce will of the defiant.  The will of those who have lost everything but their desire for vengeance.

The men were large and swarthy skinned. Brothers in blood as well as arms, one sported an axe, the other a sword and shield.  He could feel the weight of the many lives the two had claimed darkening the air around them, but it was the woman who drew his attention.  

She was pale, her hair black as night and her eyes as blue as the midday sky.  Muscles stood out on her arms and two well worn swords hung on her hips.  A thick fur, taken from a bear draped over her back and its claws hung from her throat.  When she spoke, the men listened attentively, and he could feel her spirit burn like icy fire across his mind’s eye.  

“Hidden within the shadows of the ancient oak lies the heart and soul of the enemy.  A great bear wearing the form of a woman.  Strike her down and break the back of our foe.  Miss your strike and she will become twice as fierce.”

“Oooh, she sounds fun.”  Blood dripped from those words and Chesta could feel more paths of escape fade away as the trap began to close.  “Do you think she’ll actually fight back?  Or will she die like the useless rebel filth she is?” The Seer didn’t bother to answer. One wasn’t expected.  Instead, he pulled his mind back into his skull, shivering at the bone deep cold which always filled him after his Visions.  

His body felt heavy, awkward and tired, but he knew better than to give voice to any complaint.  Weakness wasn’t tolerated in the Black Dragon Clan, even less so in the Dragonslayers.

Blinking his eyes rapidly to settle his vision, he watched the albino in the blood red armour wheel his horse around to face the rest of their unit, a wide vulpine grin split his youthful face, twisting it into something demonic.  Crimson eyes, pitiless and cold glittered with undisguised malice as he tapped the bared blade of his sword against his shoulder.  The reflection of his face made his smile more of a rictus grin.  The reaper preparing to sow the lives of those gathered down below.  The soldiers, his unit… Gaea itself… Chesta knew deep in his heart that he followed on the heels of Death like a faithful hound, but it was better to follow at Death’s heels than run before Him.

“Let’s go and say hello.”  Captain Dilandau grinned, those inhuman eyes of his fixed on the hidden camp, power beginning to build around him.  His cruel laughter was echoed by those of his men… no, his boys. They were all so young, painfully young, but Chesta could see the blood running over their hands, dripping onto the ground below and killing everything it touched.  “No survivors.”  The captain added, licking his pale lips in anticipation, already tasting victory.

“Sir, Lord Folken will want prisoners to interrogate.”  Gatti dared to speak up, his voice ever cautious.  Dilandau’s hand tightened on his sword and the second in command drew back, unable to meet that terrible gaze.

“Did I stutter?”  The pale leader sneered, leaning forward in his saddle, ready to spill the blood of his own team if they dared to question him.  “If Folken wants toys to play with, he can get them his damn self!”

“Of course sir!”  The others all replied, knowing what is expected of them.  Chesta’s voice is found among them.  He’d learned long ago not to fight the storm.  It’s far safer to simply allow the winds to blow him where they will.  He’s seen enough examples of what happened to those who stood up to the impure dragon and had no desire to be counted among them.

With his place at the front of the pack confirmed without dispute once again, Dilandau led their charge.  The wind whipped through Chesta’s hair driving away the last vestiges of his disorientation, leaving only the bloodlust and adrenaline of battle. Like the others, a grin split his face as he drew his sword.  The steed beneath him tore through the underbrush without any hint of self preservation or hesitation, infected with their bloodlust.

Young voices rose up in a vicious howl and he could feel the terror filling the minds of those ahead of them.  They’ve heard tales of that sound, whispered around the campfires in the dark of the night, stories of a pack of children, of demons, of wolves wearing the flesh of men.  He knew well the atrocities attached to his team.  Worse, he knew that they barely scratch the truth of it all.

The enemy soldiers learn quickly enough as the Dragonslayers break through the trees, coming in from all sides.  The fires are scattered by horse’s hooves, armour is cleaved by swords and the screams of the dying soon overpower the howls of the boys.

Explosions drown out everything as the ground tears itself apart, cutting a lethal trail through several ranks of soldiers attempting to form up and protect their leaders.  Limbs fly free from bodies, blood rains from above and the tent, guarded so carefully by the ancient boughs of the oak shatters apart.  

Chesta can feel the concussive blast of power from across the camp.  He can feel the lives snuffed out instantly, never having seen the face of their killer. Cries of “Dragonborn” echo through the camp, accompanied by Dilandau’s wild laughter.  Moral is shattered, the ranks scatter and flee, but the seer can feel their futures snuffed out one by one.  No matter how fast they run, their lives are measured in little more than minutes, an hour at most.  The army marched behind them after all, a lethal net ready to catch any who seek to slip through the jaws of the Dragonslayers.  It’s the lucky ones who die quickly.  Lord Folken has never been known for his mercy after all.

The blast which took out the leader’s tent has damaged the roots of the oak, and as Chesta watched, the ancient tree begins to list heavily to the side, the few remaining roots buried deep beneath the earth groan softly in protest, doing their best to keep the tree upright.

There’s nothing he can do but watch it bend beneath its own weight.  Enemy soldier’s race by him, within easy reach of his sword, but he pays them no mind. They’re already dead after all. He’s seen their inevitable fate. What do their short and pointless lives matter in the end when compared to the death of this king of the forest. It had stood tall and proud for centuries… perhaps even more, its power inviolate… until now.

Something was changing.  He could feel it in the wind, hear it rumble deep within the earth. It wasn’t the tree that was falling, torn apart by its own greatness; it was everything.  The world was about to change, the roots cut out from beneath it, and all the little people in its shadow were going to run as it toppled down upon them.

“Chesta.”  Ryoun hissed sharply from off to the side.  “You’re letting the enemy escape!”  The dark haired slayer’s sword dripped wet with blood, so much blood that it formed a river beneath his horses feet.  “If Lord Dilandau thinks you’re going soft there’ll be hell to pay!”

“The leaves.”  Chesta murmured, holding a hand up as if to touch them as they fell all around them like rain, torn free from their branches.  “They look like feathers.”  Holding out a hand towards them, he could almost hear a song echoing on the wind, beautiful and heart wrenching, it promised an end of everything.