#there are people in my platoon that i hate but when it really comes down to it you know that you’re there for them. ITS SICKENING

[sallytwo]

*still thinking about it* the worst part isn’t that the situation in first duty is ambiguously bad it’s that it’s specially terrible for wesley. the kid who idealized picard his entire life and said that everything he’s done was to make him proud but never got that reciprocated. who after years being the odd one out on the enterprise because of his age finally had friends. and a place where he really belonged. and then having to choose between the group that was supposed to stick together through it all who were all extremly loyal to each other and picard. it never was about upholding lofty starfleet ideals “you should always tell the truth” it was just about wesleys unyielding loyalty to picard. even though he never got anything back it’s sickening!!! it never mattered whether or not it was right to tell the truth because wesley was always going to turn on his friends for picard. it didn’t even matter in the end because this fully ruins wesleys relationship with him and with nova squad and he ends up leaving starfleet entirely 2 years later. it was all pointless. having to live knowing he’s complicit in his friend’s death when he grew up hating picard for being complicit in his fathers death even though they were friends. nick locarno who’s said to be like the squads surrogate father being the most responsible in joshs death and wesley having to live through that all again. and through all of this he lost his friend. the trial didn’t matter telling the truth didn’t really matter because at the end of the day josh would still be dead. after wesley has grown up seeing so many people close to him die and always living through these terrible traumatic life-or-death scenarios. like i cant even imagine the survivors guilt. they were supposed to stick by each other through anything but nick is expelled josh ends up dead sito ends up dead wesley just disappears the whole thing is just a tragedy. there was no way out man.

[its-that-gay-fox]

i finished 13’s era today. full review: i liked it. 8.5/10 (points taken off for timeless child thing (didn’t like it) and constant reappearance of the daleks)

i liked 13’s era more than i thought i would, with how bad people made it sound. although i didn’t like the timeless child thing, the build up to it and hints were really good. that’s one good thing i have to say about 13’s era. i loved the way in the last two seasons, there was buildup and hints, even if i didn’t like what it built up to. i also appreciated all the little references to 10’s era. like when the judoon appeared and 13 said “judoon platoon by the lagoon” i freaked out and started jumping up and down, also the way she got all sad when ryan and graham were leaving, and yaz hadn’t given an answer yet. it felt very reminiscent to journeys end where the doctor had one big family and then they lost them all and the way both 10 and 13 were like “no i’ll be alright, i can manage in my own” and they really couldn’t. it was also one of the only times where the doctor lost companions without them dying or being lost in time and space, which made me really sad. the other thing i really liked was the ood in 13’s episode the vanquishers cause it felt like a little nod to 10 when time appeared and told 13 that her time was coming to an end and 13 denied it, it felt a lot like when the ood told the doctor that his song was ending. there were a bunch of other little references to ten but these are some of the main ones i remember.

and to everyone on the fence about watching 13, watch her anyways. one, she’s the first girl doctor, and two, everyone has different opinions about everything! i thought i would really hate 13 but she was good. i’ll probably end up rewatching some of her episodes too.

i did really enjoy how it ended, with there being a little club for companions and friends of the doctor, and has and the doctor eating ice cream on the tardis roof. also might be insane but everyone knows how ice cream appears in the aftermath of breakups? i felt like the ice cream was symbolizing a goodbye between the doctor and yaz, although i do really hope they meet again specially cause of that no good byesthing and it was like yaz trying to comfort the doctor because she knows how much she hates goodbyes. i wish that jodie stayed for a little longer and got to work with rtd, i feel like he would’ve done her justice. anyways, i’ve got some dw christmas specials from last year to watch now

[nibeul]

Please I want to know more about your clones 🤔🤔

I am so late to responding to this but GLADLY!! I love gushing about them though I have so many (like 50 I think) so I will try to stick to my main group ahh :)

Cross (he/him): Cross was my first clone OC ever, so he holds a very special place in my heart even if I do not draw him often enough. He’s a commander (CC-0044) and was present on Geonosis, though later returned to Kamino to help Alpha with the CC training program.

He got his scar in 21BBY and it’s actually not from the battlefield (none of his scars are actually from the battlefield). The scar comes from being whipped by a lightsaber hilt, which sounds funny out of context, but it wasn’t an accident.

He’s batchmates with @katanrocksketches ‘s OC Asch! The two were pretty close when they were in training, and Cross got his name before leaving Kamino. It was given to him because of his kind of uhhh, “cross nature” or disposition pfft. He softens up a bit between 22BBY-20BBY though the walls go up again after that :’)

Coming off Kamino, he was a stickler for rules and was not a big fan of clones tattooing themselves/dying their hair and whatnot (he didn’t even like having a name at first though his batchmates used it enough that it begrudgingly stuck). After meeting Sunny though, he lets him do one tattoo and ends up getting his number underneath his left eye. It is like, staying to how he believes they should be while also accepting that it’s ok to be individual.

Cross’s favorite color is red because for him, red represents Ando (my Padawan OC) and they are very close (NOT IN A ROMANTIC WAY. He sees Ando as his little brother or kih’vod to protect).

Cross actually does not know a lot of Mando’a because of his belief that they should not try to be seen as individuals. He distanced himself from anything that he considered “individualization”, and Mando’a was included in that. Sunny teaches him a little bit later down the line, and Ando also teaches him and Ten (another clone OC of mine) some Togruti, too

Part of Cross’s strict disposition comes from being subject to Priest’s death circles on more than one occasion (I might retcon that to Adral—a mando OC of mine—because I hate KT Ugh).

By the end of the war, he carries a lot of guilt. He loses a lot of the people he’s closest to because of his actions/orders, and he uh. Doesn’t live past O66 :’) he does get a very quick.. redemption.. arc.. kinda..

Sunny (he/him): Sunny was my second clone OC made around the same time as Cross, and he also holds a very special place in my heart :) I really love clone medics, there is just something about them that makes my brain go brrrr. I also think the irony of his name is great

Sunny’s name was originally Sers, but after writing him for a few weeks, I changed it because I thought Sunny fit better. His name was given to him by his batchmate, Aran, and while he vehemently protested against it, the name ended up sticking. He won’t admit that he actually likes it (though the tattoo and painting of his armor say otherwise anyway)

Sunny is the CMO of the 409th Corps (my OC military group basically). He’s a Lieutenant (or at a rank around there, definitely a CO at the least) and he does not back down. Ever. Even the people who outrank him will fall into line if he tells them to, Jedi included. He is not afraid to pull rank as a Medic, and his resting bitch face can be very scary

On the same line of thought as the rbf, he is basically perpetually scowling. He does not look approachable at all

Sunny loses the entirety of his batch on Geonosis, including Aran who he holds onto while he is dying. The Jedi leading Sunny’s company was.. not accustomed to war and failed to adapt when it was needed. Because of this, Sunny doesn’t necessarily harbor a dislike of Jedi, though he does not really trust many of them in leading positions. He also does not like that there are kids being put in the role of commander, he does see many Padawan deaths (he later comforts a dying Padawan that he was close to, I think I wrote part of that scene for myself and it was kinda upsetting oof) —> he gets his tattoo/paints his armor in order to honor his dead batchmates

Throughout the war, Sunny gets seriously injured only once after going down in an LAAT (where he nearly ends up dying too). Boost finds him, though he’s kinda accepted that he’s not gonna make it (I mean he does but it doesn’t look like he will for a bit). After Flip (younger clone OC) dies, he doesn’t really care if he kicks the bucket either :’)

Sunny is the only one out of my main gang to make it past O66. His chip doesn’t work at all, though he has to fight through his brothers (aha, the only ones who are still alive that he is close with) in order to save a Jedi youngling that was in the medbay at the time. After that, he goes on the run with the kid (clone dad clone dad) and offers his services as a doctor in the outer rim in order to keep them afloat

Boost (he/him) (she/her) [either or, there is no real preference]: Boost has gone through a lot of changes design wise. He started out as Dax, but then Dax became another OC, then she was Boost, though she had kinda short hair that was pushed back by a headband, then his hair was buzzed, and now we are finally at long hair Boost. Idk how to describe, but she is very shaped I think

Boost for his nickname from bear hugging his batchmates and lifting them off the ground when doing so. Also from fucking around in training where he threw another one of his batchmates in order to get from one ledge to another. All around just a name with silly origins that she liked and decided to keep

Boost and Sol are batchmates!

Boost is very tactically intelligent. She’s good at thinking on her feet, sees the bigger picture before focusing on details, good problem solver, etc. He is an ARC after all, there is good reason for his status and rank as a Lieutenant. That being said, he can also be very very stupid in the sense that off the battlefield, he’s oblivious. He does enjoy being the jokester of the group, and he sometimes plays up his dumbassery for jest, though yeah, a lot of people assume that he is not smart because of his demeanor which is very wrong

Boost is terrible. Terrible at braiding her hair. Sol is the best at braiding it, though she would never admit that even if everyone knows it. He started growing his hair out once they were off Kamino and hasn’t stopped since despite the fact that is technically not within regulations. Cross turns a blind eye and Ko (Jedi General) could not care less for inconsequential regulations like that

Boost is really good with kids, but good in the way a uhh.. chaotic uncle/auntie is. He’s a lot of fun to be around with, and being around kids makes him even more rambunctious than usual. He can be what is considered “childish”, pulling pranks and everything but like, he is very emotionally mature and knows when to be serious. Again, a lot of people kinda just boil her down to “dumb” which is really wrong, though it doesn’t bug him a lot.

Boost has a big sweet tooth!! He loves getting sweets when they’re on Coruscant, which they actually tend to visit frequently enough because of Ko’s status as a Sentinel (and also because Ko benefits what the Republic sees as the “propaganda machine” as a prominent General with a good track record).

Boost is romantically involved with @buttsalsa ‘s civilian OC Esta. I reblogged some art of them the other day, they are very cute :D

Boost doesn’t make it to Order 66 :’) I actually wrote out his death and cried after going back to read it LMAO It was rough

Sol (he/him): Sol was made as a package deal with Boost, and I feel bad because I think he gets overshadowed a lot but he is kinda like the rock for the group. When he dies, things really start to crumble but uh!! That is a sad thought for another time. Anyways, like I said, he is basically the rock and also a voice of reason for Boost’s shenanigans

Sol got his nickname after reading through some flimsi that their trainer had given him. He didn’t know if it had any meaning, but he liked the way it sounded and immediately began using it. Boost quickly picked up on it and the rest of their batch was very supportive

Sol loves reading. He specifically likes reading history, and Ando slips him what he can (fun fact, when Sol dies, Boost returns to their bunk to find a couple of holobooks that Ando had left and breaks down aha.. pain). Whenever he doesn’t feel like keeping Boost from causing trouble, he just sits in a quiet corner and reads his books while everything erupts in chaos around him

Sol’s favorite beverage is tea which Ko introduced him to. He has a few boxes he keeps with him when he can, and he shares them with Boost sometimes though he has to add a lot of sugar/honey in order to do that. If he could drink tea all the time, he could. On the flipside, he absolutely loathes coffee and doesn’t understand how Sunny can drink multiple cups on a day

Sol is kinda like the person that everyone is friends with even if they don’t realize it. He’s like.. the perfect emotional pillar, kinda the therapist friend in a group that desperately needs therapy. He’s more of a listener than a talker which is why it’s easy to overlook him, but he insists that he doesn’t mind much. That being said, it’s only once he’s gone that people start to realize just how much he did (aside from Boost who already thought the world of him)

Sol is also an ARC trooper, having gone through the training program together with Boost. He doesn’t have the same tactical knowledge that Boost does, but he’s good at mediating, long range combat, and also working through plans (he’s pretty meticulous). He and Boost balance each other out well, since he is like the “slow and steady” one out of them.

Sol is the first to go out of the main four (second out of my bigger group of six). He and his entire platoon are wiped out in a massacre as a result of false intel.. man :’)

Anyways, thank you for enabling to ramble about my ocs ToT I honestly just needed to infodump shdjf

[brazenautomaton]

Fixing Afterlives: The Maw, First Visit

So our Shadowlands journey starts with the Maw. You know what? People hate this scenario now because you can’t skip it and have to go through it on every character, but the first time through, this is actually really good. You’re kicking in the gates of Hell with a platoon of Death Knights and then everything goes tits-up and you don’t have a beachhead and you’re lost and wandering and there are awful, awful things everywhere and you’re hiding and isolated and need to learn how to escape. You just need the option to skip it on your alts.

Plus the aesthetics of the Maw are great. They sell what it is -- the hostile architecture, sinister crystal formations, the way everything seems swept and shaped by a windstream of souls. We’ve seen plenty of environments that look like a Hell of flames. This is a Hell of pure suffering. Pain is what lives here. Pain is all that enters and pain is all that is produced. It’s only after you went farming Stygia for a while that the pain gets inflicted on you.

So we assemble the crew, get the exposition while we put together the Helm of Domination, get given a portal stone to establish a beachhead, and we bust in to find the four captives: Anduin, Jaina, Baine, Thrall. We rally the Death Knights into enough of a formation to make it in and find the evidence of Jaina, and I like that, I like how you track her by the huge formations of ice -- it shows you her power and the mark she leaves. Finding her is mostly the same although her dialogue is less generic and content-free (from now on assume I apply this caveat to all dialogue). She’s more confused and disoriented and even though she’s fighting it’s with a resignation that she knows it won’t work and she’s starting to think she’s only hurting herself by trying. She acts like she has been there for years. But you say you and the DKs are here to save her and she follows against her better judgment and agrees to try and find Thrall, who she struggles to remember, but seems to be trying very hard to be able to remember.

Then the Mawsworn Kyrian show up and laugh about her hopelessness, and you fight them. And they kill the shit out of you. 

More and more and more of them keep coming and they’re level 60 when you’re level 50 and if you do some bullshit to survive eventually one of them will grab you by the neck to Silence you, lift you into the air, and do the ol’ Val’Kyr Special and fatally drop you. You unavoidably die.

This is necessary early to establish what dying in the Shadowlands means. Play a special graphic effect when the player dies, something more drawn out and grasping. Play a sound effect appropriate to race/gender of the PC of them struggling against great pain and gasping. Then you appear next to a Spirit Healer (yes normally in the Maw you just respawn alive so you have to pick up your Stygia like in Dark Souls, we’ll explain the discrepancy later), a Mawsworn Spirit Healer, who says “No. Your suffering will not end. The Maw claims you.” and then starts to chase you the fuck down with a bunch of shades. You need to run, as a ghost, to claw your way back into your body. Obviously, if the shades catch you, you get dragged back to the start and the Spirit Healer fucks with you a bit. 

Your body has been dragged over to the area where Jaina and the rest are hiding; they fled while you were being merced. Jaina sees you stir. And she says “I’m sorry, champion. Death is no respite here. It is so hard to fight the pull… I struggle to even remember my body when I try to return.”

Jaina has been brutally killed over a dozen times. This is not her first rodeo. This is not her first escape attempt. This is not the first time she’s killed that particular Mawsworn tormenter whose name I don’t recall. It doesn’t end. It never ends. She doesn’t know why she tries any more, when she knows it will fail and she will die and suffer and claw her way back to her flesh and every time it gets harder and harder. All it buys her is the ability to offer futile resistance and maybe that isn’t even worth it.

Mood: established.

From there it goes mostly the same. You try to pump the shades for info about how to escape and they don’t know, they can’t know, they can’t even want to escape. The info you get is a memory of spitefully hating someone who fled to the waystone. You rescue your buddies. You see the Jailer fuck up Baine, only instead of giving him a spirit poison, he fucking snaps the dude like a Kit-Kat and drops his lifeless corpse, and you drag it to safety. You don’t need to find a poison dagger to counteract the spirit poison; you need to keep him safe and clear a path for his spirit to flee back to his body. Thus reinforcing what the danger here is and how it’s different and what they fear.

And while you do this, at some point, you run into Sylvanas. Maybe she just walks up to you while you’re all collected around Baine trying to help him revive. Since the Jailer won’t be saying “it’s not like you won anything b-b-baka, it was just a temporary setback,” you need to establish that feeling that he views your victories as completely meaningless. Sylvanas knows you’re here saving Baine. So does the Jailer. It does not matter. You cannot accomplish anything. 

Thrall kills her dead. She just gets back up. She has an escort for her soul to go back to her body. “How many times are you going to try that before you learn it’s futile? Come now, Thrall. I know you’re smarter than this. I know you respected me more than this.”

And then stuff like “How could you do this, Sylvanas? How could you betray the Horde?” Thrall is incredibly angry and offended at her. He thought he knew her. “Neither of us had any illusions you were not a monster, Banshee Queen. But I trusted you anyway because I knew you wanted what was best for your people. You were a monster, but a loyal one. How can you now turn your back on what little principle you had?” Sylvanas is hurt by this, but she doesn’t linger on it.

Jaina, however, is desperately trying to flatter her. Do this to sell the kind of impact this has had on Jaina, and what this suffering drives her to. “Please, Sylvanas. I know you were my enemy but you were an honorable one. It isn’t too late. Someone as cunning as you must know that this will end in ruin. I promise… I promise… I will surrender if you let me return. Kul Tiras will become servants of the Forsaken. Just, just let them live… please, you could rule our world, not slaughter it…”

Jaina breaks down in tears. Yes, she just tried to surrender her people to the enemy for mercy. Jaina is breaking. All of them will. The Maw is a Bad Place and makes them give up hope. That’s how we sell the threat. Not by making the enemies bigger or spikier, showing how they have broken these heroes. Less screaming anger. More pain.

Sylvanas scoffs at her offer. “It doesn’t matter where your people’s loyalty lies, Lord Admiral.” And then she says the phrase that will become a motif: “Nobody escapes the Maw.” She leaves. She doesn’t care what you do. It doesn’t matter.

But you have to still hold on to that sliver of hope that maybe the waystone is a way out. So you get Baine up and you sneak past this big-ass Maw army that can fuck 31 flavors of your day up. The jailer notices you and sends out a force to stop you at the waystone, and he repeats the phrase when he sends out the order: “Nobody escapes the Maw.”

So there’s the event, you fight off the army while the waystone charges, the army gets bigger and bigger, the charge meter gets stuck at 90%, you go to kick it and it teleports you to Oribos.

The mob descends on the other captives. Sylvanas and the Jailer look completely unconcerned with your escape. After having clearly seen you physically leave the Maw, Sylvanas brushes it off with “Nobody escapes the Maw.” Dun-DUNNN! Cutscene end.

You appear in Oribos. The Protectors stop you because you stink like the Maw and what the hell dude, yada yada. This is when you get a tour of the city, here’s the profession trainers, the bank, the transmog. Only secondary details need to be changed here. One, this is an instanced version of the city where no other players exist (you are the first one there, nobody else is). Two, Lich King Bolvar (hashtag #notmylichking) arrives from Azeroth and says SOMETHING to justify other players coming from the Maw but being less important than you. Something like, he saw what you did, there are other adventurers from Azeroth still in the Maw, his DKs are hunkering down in defensive positions and will try to make their way to the Waystone once it cools off because you already activated it, since you are the more special one, and there might be a chance that a couple others might have an echo of your power because they have had similar adventures. You are the True Maw Walker, and the context of the massively multiplayer element is “for your story, all those other guys have shitty Maw Walker powers that only work once you opened the pickle jar for them.” They can’t bring passengers, either.

Third, not the most importantly but yes the most importantly, if you are Forsaken or a Death Knight or Mechagnome or whatever you get a special dialogue where you say “Why do you keep calling me a ‘living mortal’? I’m not alive. I’m undead / a machine / maybe something else like maybe I missed the fact that vulpera are made of rocks and string.”

So Tal-Inara or whoever can be like “Oh, THAT’S what that is. Something was odd about you, mortal, that I couldn’t quite place. I call you ‘living’ because your soul is still tethered to a body. To us in the Shadowlands, to be bound in a vessel like this is far more important than the nature of the vessel itself.” That’s why people keep calling you “living”, to them you’re easy to mistake for one.

Kyrian in the Maw is disturbing news, and also WEIRD, because as Tal-Inara reminds us, “Nobody escapes the Maw.” Why would the Kyrian go down there when they can’t come back? It is terrible but not unheard of for mortals to try and speak to the Jailer but they never GO there because they can’t get out. And yet Sylvanas just walked in there? And he is mustering armies? Better go to Bastion and find out what is up. Let’s crank open this gateway, and...

[eyayah-oya]

Do Not Touch My Vod’e

Cloneship Week - Dragons - @cloneshipweek

Kix/Coric (background Cody/Rex, Fives/Echo, Waxer/Boil)

Rating: T

Warnings: some violence but no one really gets hurt, Krell, Umbara

Ao3 link

More ideas for world-building on Ao3. SEND ME ASKS ABOUT THIS AU! I MIGHT CONTINUE THIS ONE!

           There were Mandalorian legends that spoke of the terrible power dragons possessed.  They were the protectors of Mandalore, long ago, blessed by the Manda and the Ka’ra to bring peace to their people.  The gift was passed down from Mand’alor to Mand’alor through the millennia until the people of Mandalore began to die out.  The dragons were hunted down and killed, deemed to dangerous to be kept alive by politicians driven by their greed and fear.  Legends told of the beskar mines on Concordia, Concord Dawn, and Mandalore were the remnants of the hearts of the dragons as a final way to protect the people they loved.  The beskar was valuable, and the significance of the metal was destroyed along with the culture of Mandalore, save for a very few who still strived to adhere to The Way.

           Jango Fett was one of the last Mand’alore to guide and protect The Way of the Mandalore.  The Last Dragon, the Jedi Killer, the Forgotten Mand’alor.  His people fell, and Jango himself disappeared.

           Nearly twenty years later, Jango was found, and so was his legacy.  The Jedi had no idea what they were placed in command of when they met the clones of Jango Fett.  The Manda and the Ka’ra gave Mandalore a final chance.  A chance to survive and to thrive once again.  Millions of clones possessed the same gift that had been given to the Mand’alore of the past.  Their blood was red, but their hearts were lined with beskar, graced with courage, and filled with love for their brothers and their Jedi.

           Thousands of clones were killed as the war progressed, dying for people that refused to care for their lives, and often beside the Jedi that recognized the beauty of their souls.  They died and painted whole planets with their blood, protected only by a pale mimicry of true beskar armor or their own scales.

           The clones, referred to as Vod’e by each other and their precious Jedi Generals (though not every General cared about their troops), rarely shifted from their smaller, more vulnerable forms into their dragon bodies. The Kaminoans hadn’t realized what they had created, as no vod ever shifted in front of them, but Jango saw. And he trained the Alphas, who then taught their little brothers about their heritage and their sacred duty. But since so few people knew the true nature of the clones, the Venators were not built to suit their needs. Battlefields were dangerous, with injured brothers and very squishable Jedi underfoot.

           Kix, however, was ready to turn into a dragon.  The anger in his heart resonated in the hearts of his brothers and in the fabric of the universe itself.  Kix could feel the despair, pain, and heartache in the air surrounding his brothers, accompanied by the bitter taste of their fury.  They had all been betrayed, and the one who sought to harm them could not be allowed to roam free.

           “Waxer, send out two of your scouts along with two of my men to send a message to General Kenobi.  Use whatever means necessary to communicate with him as soon as possible, including flying,” Rex instructed.  “Dogma, Shiver, you go with them and report to the General.  Do not leave any of Krell’s actions out.  The General needs to know it all.  Understood troopers?”

           “Sir, yes sir!” Dogma and Shiver saluted before shifting and taking off into the dark Umbaran sky.  The four dragons flew away at top speed, obviously taking Rex’s words to heart.

           “Captain, what about the rest of us?” Tup asked.

           Rex bared his teeth.  “We’re going to relieve that demagolka of duty and leave him for the Jedi.” There were several loud protests, many brothers itching to tear Krell apart for his crimes, but Kix understood why Rex had ordered them to capture but not kill the traitor.  “I refuse to let another brother be harmed because of Krell’s actions and that’s what will happen if we kill him.  There are far too many nat-borns who despise and fear us, that they will use any reason they have to hurt us or kill us.  I will not allow that to happen.”

           Kix straightened his spine, absorbing the Captain’s determination and anger as his own, and he noticed many others doing the same.

           “We’re with you, Rex,” Waxer said, coming to stand at Rex’s right shoulder.  Kix took his place on his Captain’s left, as he was the highest-ranking officer in the contingent of 501st soldiers that had been sent to stop Umbarans wearing clone armor.  The only reason Krell’s plan failed was the inherent knowledge within nearly all clones of the whereabouts of their brothers.  They’d all sensed the 212th before they’d ever spotted the distinct white and gold armor.  The Manda and Ka’ra saved them with the gift they had all been given.

           Rex’s eyes flash gold in the dim Umbaran light, lit with a fire inside that would consume worlds if allowed to be unleashed.  A rippling, tearing growl began low in his chest and the call was taken up by every other vod with them.  All around the three leaders of the two platoons, brothers tightened their grips on their blasters and released savage snarls and ferocious roars.  The anger, hate, and determination, all fueled by the powerful love for their fallen brothers filled the space around them, so thick, Kix could barely breathe through the emotions battering against his defenses.

The Vod’e were going hunting.

Kix let loose his own feral grin, the dragon deep inside of him slamming against his mental shields, anxious to be free of the chains that kept him locked tightly inside.  Never before had Kix felt the overwhelming desire to utterly destroy a single being nor a single planet before.  Everything about Umbara set his every nerve on edge the longer he remained on the planet. Not even Geonosis, both times he had been deployed to that planet, jarred his mind this much.  Kix needed to let his dragon out of his cage and release him on the world.

           “You can back out of this at any time until we confront Krell,” Rex cautioned the vod’e.  “You will not face any repercussions if you choose to stay out of his arrest.  I do have to warn you, however, you might have to face heavy and severe consequences from the Senate and the GAR if you do choose to help.  We are going to relieve a Jedi and a General from his posting, which counts as high treason within the Republic.”

           Not a single vod stepped back.  Not a single one of them wavered in their determination, though there were many spikes of fear.  They all knew what would happen if they were sent back to Kamino.  But their courage didn’t waver despite the fear coursing through their veins.  Kix had never been so proud of his brothers than in that moment.

           “Any further questions?” Rex asked after a minute of silence.

           “I have something to say.”  Kix stepped forward.  “Your forms, as they are now, will not hold up against lightsabers.  If this turns into a fight, which I believe it will, shift immediately.  It will take a lot more for Krell to kill you or even chop off a limb if you are dragons and we will have the advantage of size, our claws, tails, and fire.  Use them.”

           “Excellent advice, Kix,” Waxer grinned and saluted him. “Stay alive, boys!  The General and the Commander will be coming, and we’ve got to be there to greet them when they arrive.”

           Rex looked around the vod’e one more time and nodded. He put his helmet on and stepped forward, a fist raised in the air.  “OYA VOD’E!” he cried.

           “OYA!”

           As the vod’e entered the airbase, Kix felt the cold numbness he’d felt around Krell from the beginning spread over his mind once again. Appo and Coric shared a hushed conversation with Rex, Waxer, and Kix, who quickly briefed them on the situation and their plans.  Kix watched as his own fury was echoed on his riduur’s face, infuriated at the way their brothers had been treated.  As medics, they took their oaths very seriously, and this campaign had worn on both Kix and Coric the longer it had progressed.

           “Let me get this straight,” Appo said.  “We’ve been sent on suicidal marches with the worst battle tactics I’ve ever seen, you were threatened with Krell’s lightsaber and so was Fives, two of our brothers were nearly executed for saving the entire campaign while a third is currently trapped in space with no way to communicate with us, and Krell attempted to have Nabat and Torrent kill each other?”

           “Yes, Appo,” Rex said, voice tight with carefully controlled anger.  “That’s a good summary.”

           Coric snarled viciously, his eyes shining golden and a warm orange glow building in his chest.  “Can we roast him alive?” he growled.  Kix automatically reached out to Coric in his mind and soothed the flickering fire until it was less likely to consume him.

           “No, but we are going to arrest him.  You don’t have to join us,” Rex explained.

           “Like kark we’re not going to be right beside you when you confront that hu’tuun!  We’re with you, sir.  All the way,” Appo declared, his fire blue and solid and a steady rock for Rex to lean against.  Coric’s only answer was to pull his helmet back on and ready his blaster.

           “Good.  Inform your men of what happened while I go free Jesse and Fives from the brig.  Anyone who wants to help is welcome.  Anyone who doesn’t should stay in the barracks so they don’t get caught in the crossfire in case this turns bad,” Rex instructed. His gaze softened slightly.  “I’m glad you’re both with me on this,” he said softly.

           It hit Kix, then, exactly how much their Captain had been dealing with on this campaign, largely on his own.  Neither Kix nor Fives had helped much, constantly challenging his orders and especially with Fives getting into trouble with Krell multiple times.  Rex had stood alone against the battering ram of Krell, the only defense between the demagolka and his little brothers.  Kix swore to take care of the Captain once they were free of the stains of Umbara and flying far away from this hell planet.

           Rex, Appo, and Waxer split off to discuss a few strategies and how they wanted to set up the men that decided to help them relieve Krell of his duty.  Kix, however, immediately found himself pressed up against Coric’s hard armor, their helmets banging together harder than they usually did.

           “How are you?” Coric said as soft as his vocoder would allow.

           “Alive,” Kix answered.  “Everything else will have to wait until after we stop Krell.”

           Coric sighed heavily.  “I know, but I wish it didn’t.  You could have died so many times in the last two days, and I wasn’t even there to help. I couldn’t save you and I couldn’t save any of our vod’ikase!”

           Kix closed his eyes and allowed Coric’s despair to wash over him, joining his own as they tucked it close to their hearts to deal with later.  No medic, no vod ever wanted to be kept on the sidelines of a battle, especially when their vod’e were calling for help.  Kix knew if their places had been exchanged, he would have had a hard time not going to help his little brothers, regardless of what Krell had ordered.

           “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Kix murmured and tapped his helmet against Coric’s.

           “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” Coric finished.  “We will remember their lives and their deaths. None shall be forgotten.”

           “If Krell attacks, don’t take any chances,” Kix ordered.  He didn’t fear for himself, but he feared for his vod’e and especially his riduur.  He couldn’t lose Coric, not so soon after everything that had already happened.  “Shift. Tell the others to shift.  Don’t let him get close to you and don’t let him hurt you.”            “Only if you do the same.”  Coric shook his head.  “You’re going up there with Rex and probably Fives and Jesse, aren’t you?”

           It was a question that didn’t really need an answer. Kix needed to see that cha’kaar brought to justice.  Coric would watch the vod’ikase on the ground while Kix kept an eye on those in the tower.

           “I’ll come back to you.  Haat, ijaa, haa’it,” Kix swore.  Manda forgive him if this was the one promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

           “You better,” Coric said.  He gripped Kix’s shoulders as best as he could through the armor.  “K’oyacyi, ner kar’ta.”

           “K’oyacyi, ner runi.”

           Coric gave him one last tap of the helmet before he turned to follow Appo to brief the rest of the 501st on the situation. Rex appeared at Kix’s elbow, eyes soft and warm, despite the exhaustion nearly dousing his flame.  Only his anger was keeping the Captain on his feet at the moment.

           “Are you ready?” he asked.

           Kix nodded.  “Let’s go free our brothers and arrest that hu’tuun!”

           “Oya,” Rex responded with a grin.  “Tup, Waxer, with me.”

           Fives and Jesse were rightfully angry, the heart of their raging infernos readily visible on their chests through their blacks. The soft, grey-blue of Fives’s fire (Kix still wasn’t used to seeing the accompanying navy of Echo’s flame) burned brighter than he’d seen since that fateful mission to the Citadel.  Jesse was more subdued, but the dusky red pulsed to the rhythm of his heart and the determination of Waxer and Rex.  They practically demanded to be there when Rex confronted Krell.

           As expected, the arrest did not go as planned.  Some of the vod’e attempted to get closer to try to stun the fallen Jedi before he could pull out his lightsabers, but they were easily pushed to the edges of the tower room.  That was when Krell pulled out his lightsabers and ignited all four blades.

           “You cannot defeat a Jedi.  I will not be undermined by any animal grown in a lab.  You’re nothing and you have no power!” Krell roared. He whirled the lightsabers around threateningly, preventing any vod from getting too close and deflecting their stun shots.

           “Don’t get close!” Kix shouted at some of the troopers who had tried to sneak up on the Jedi.  They leapt back in time to avoid getting cut in half, but it had been too close. “Rex!  We need Plan B!”

           “Fives, Waxer, Kix, on me!  The rest of you, get out, however you can!” Rex ordered.  Immediately, the younger vod’e left, guided by Jesse, though his reluctance cut through the room like a vibroblade.  However, Rex was entrusting the safety of their vod’ikase to Jesse, and the recently promoted Lieutenant would not let their Alor’ad down. Jesse would keep them safe and alert Appo and Coric of the situation.

           Kix breathed a bit easier when there weren’t as many vod’e around to get killed by Krell.  But it also made those who had stayed easier targets.  Krell’s mocking laugh cut deep into Kix’s chest, attempting to douse the fire in his heart.

           “What can four clones do against me?  I have the Force, and you are nothing!” Krell scoffed indignantly.

           Without needing any hand signals, the four vod’e spread out, blocking all paths Krell might try to take.

           “General Krell, do you confess to committing treason against the Republic and sabotaging your own troops and the success of the war?” Rex demanded.

           “Of course, Captain.”  The way Krell said Rex’s rank slid against his nerves like thick, black, oily sludge. “Count Dooku has promised to show me the pathway to immense power.  The Jedi have been blinded for too long, and my eyes have been opened for me.  The Dark side is not evil, but liberating from the constrictions the Jedi have enforced for millennia.”

           “Then you are under arrest, General Krell.  For the last time, comply with the order!”

           Krell snarled and threw Rex against the wall with a wave of his hand.  Hard. Kix swallowed down bile at the audible crunch he’d heard.

           “I do not take orders from clones,” Krell snarled.

           Waxer stepped forward and took the lead.  He seamlessly shifted into his long, lithe form, orange scales clashing against the blue-green glow of Krell’s sabers.  The frills around his shoulders fluttered angrily, flashing red and orange and black, instead of the usual pink or purple. With a thunderous roar, he called to Fives and Kix, both of whom were quick to respond.

           Reaching deep within himself, past the connection to his brothers and the world around him, Kix cupped his fire in the palms of his hands and let it flicker and build until it engulfed his entire body.  Unlike the other vod’e who were left in the tower, Kix’s fire burned white, hot with his anger and ferocious determination to love and save as many of his brothers as he could.  His fire was the pure essence of his soul, nurtured from the time he was in the gestation tube and coaxed to life when he’d been decanted. And now, it reenergized him.  The dragon roared approval, as Kix opened his mouth to echo Waxer’s call.

           With white scales, usually shimmering a light silver, Kix stretched his paws and extended his claws.  Coric had once described his dragon form as a scaled nexu, with the powerful legs, long, thin tail, and pointed ears atop his head.  He didn’t have any hair like some Vod’e, but instead had jagged ridges around the crown of his head that could be folded back when he wasn’t actively in battle.  Kix’s eyes always shifted from their usual light honey color to a disturbing pure white. There were no pupils, no irises, just unsettling white.

           Kix crouched down to the ground, all four legs tightly coiled and ready to launch himself at the disgusting Jedi.  Now that his senses had been extended beyond the near-human capabilities, he could smell the rot coming from the Jedi that he assumed was the Dark side.  It was thick and pungent with overwhelming hate.  The crystals within Krell’s lightsabers screamed with an awful, wailing agony that jangled every nerve Kix had in his body.  He’d once heard General Kenobi explain how the Sith got their red lightsabers, and now, he understood what he’d meant by “bleeding” the crystals.

           Across from Kix, Fives stood in his majestic glory. He was one of the biggest dragons Kix had ever seen in a standard CT.  The only Vod’e who were larger were the CCs and the Alphas.  His snout snorted out a stream of blue plasma, singeing the floor by his large, clawed paws.  The beautiful wings, last seen on Rishi, were folded against his body, tucked close to keep out of the way of those awful lightsabers.  With blue eyes that “held the galaxy” as Echo used to say, fixated on Krell, watching his every twitch of muscle.

           Waxer roared and spat a pillar of burning-red liquid fire towards the dar’jetti, keeping his focus away from the downed Captain. Krell let out a loud cry and desperately flung the fire away from him and towards Fives.  Unfortunately for Krell, the fire simply dripped off of Fives’s fireproof scales and onto the floor where it immediately began to melt the durasteel.

           [You will stand down, Krell!  It’s over!] Waxer growled.  His voice reverberated through every mind in the room, a rushing warmth for the Vod’e and a low, grating gravel in Krell’s.

           “You cannot beat me!” Krell cried desperately.  He ran towards Kix, the smallest of the shifted dragons in the room, and swung both lightsabers at his head.

           Without hesitation, Kix leaned back on his hind paws and grabbed the lightsaber blades, a bone-shattering scream of fury raging through his chest and out his open mouth.  Neither saber so much as singed his paws, and Kix stretched his lips wide over his sharp fangs in a snarl.

           Kix wrinkled his nose as the dar’jetti’s foul stench filled his nostrils.  He could feel how cold and achingly empty Krell was more poignantly than ever before, and for a moment, Kix nearly impaled him on his own sabers.  Instead, he just jerked them from Krell’s hands and crushed the handles until they were completely unusable.  The kyber crystals’ screams gentled down to soft whimpers now that they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else and Kix nodded in satisfaction.

           Fives swept out an enormous paw and batted Krell into the wall.  In a fit of desperation, Krell attempted to push Fives away from him using the Force, but absolutely nothing happened.  None of them so much as twitched, even though Kix could practically see the Force being forced to Krell’s will.  As soon as the power reached Fives, it parted around him, leaving him completely untouched.

           “What is happening?!” Krell screamed in rage.  He tried to fight against Fives’s hold on him, but it was useless against the bulky weight of the dragon.

           [Get Rex,] Fives ordered, jerking his head towards the softly groaning Captain.

           Kix immediately pounced across the room, avoiding the hole Waxer’s fire had melted into the ground.  He nudged the Captain’s leg, reaching out to the Manda to feel if Rex had any significant injuries.  He’d heard a crack, so he knew something was wrong, but not what had broken.

           “I’m fine, Kix,” Rex grumbled.  “Cracked my pauldron.  He knocked me unconscious, but other than that, I’m uninjured.”

           Kix huffed.  [I’ll believe that when I can get you into a real medbay.  Fives subdued Krell and we managed without any fatalities or injuries.  Waxer’s fire melted the floor, though, so don’t fall down the hole.]

           “Noted,” Rex said as he pushed himself to his feet. Kix pressed against him to support him on the way up, watching carefully for any sign of dizziness or disorientation. But he truly was fine.

           “You will pay for this, clone!” Krell shouted.  “I should have executed you myself!”

           [Sir, you might want to shift.  Krell is still dangerous,] Kix suggested once he was sure Rex could keep himself steady.

           “I’ve got some binders.  Do we have any force-suppressing ones?”

           [I do,] Waxer answered.  [With how many times General Kenobi has fought Ventress or Dooku, we started carrying them in case we could capture them.  One of my men gave me their’s so we’d have enough to secure Krell properly.] Stepping away from the growling and struggling dar’jetti, Waxer shifted back to his more vulnerable form and pulled out two sets of force-suppressing cuffs.  He handed them to Rex and then readied his blaster.  “He probably won’t be able to do anything with Fives holding him down like that, but I’ll cover you just in case, sir.  Figured you’d want the honors since he’s hurt your men the most.”

           Rex nodded gratefully at the Lieutenant and snapped the binders over Krell’s wrists.  Only then did Fives step away, huffing a hot breath over the Jedi in disgust.  He turned and nudged Rex with his snout, a little harder than he probably meant, to check on him.

           “I’m alright, Fives,” Rex grumbled and patted the dragon on the nose.  “Let’s just get Krell down to the brig and let the rest of the men know what happened. My bucket was recording the whole thing, so I got his confession for the GAR and the Council to review as evidence of Krell’s betrayal.”

           [Smart thinking, Cap,] Fives said.  [Come on, I’ll give you a lift down.  I haven’t been able to stretch my wings in ages.]

While Rex and Fives were focused on each other, Waxer shifted back to his dragon form and opened his mouth to blow a stream of his fire at the viewport. They watched it melt immediately and drip down towards the ground.  [Kix and I are smaller.  We can take the lift down and put Krell in the brig,] Waxer offered.

           Kix nodded and only stopped to pick up the smashed lightsabers.  Maybe the Jedi would be able to help the crystals heal.  They didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, and there was no better place for them to get better than the Jedi Temple.  Together, he and Waxer wrangled Krell into the brig until finally he was secured.

           [I’ll guard him for now.  Have Rex set up a rotation to come relieve me.  I need to check on some of my men.]

           [Yes, sir,] Kix said with a nod of his head.  They all had plenty to do in the hours to come and little time to rest, regardless of how much they all needed it.

             Kix wasn’t paying attention when General Kenobi arrived on the airbase with the rest of the 212th, nearly fourteen hours later.  He did notice when a cute kitten-like dragon pounced on Waxer’s back and woke the Lieutenant up from his nap.

           [Wooley?] Waxer groaned.  [What’re you doin’ here?]

           [We’re your support!] Wooley chirped.  [Though it looks like you’ve got everything handled here.] He curled up against Waxer’s side, nuzzling along the underside of his jaw.  It was ridiculously cute, and Kix wished he could take a holo for Waxer.

           “The General’s talking to Captain Rex and the Commander,” Boil reported as he arrived at a much more sedate pace than the little dragon Waxer was now curled around in a tight hug.  Or what counted for a hug as dragons.  “Ona and Rye told us what happened when you met up in the jungle.”

           Waxer huffed out a snorting laugh, nearly blowing out a stream of fire as he did so.  [I’m fine, you worry-wart.  We had a tiny skirmish with the Umbarans, but they quickly decided to give up when they saw the base was being held by a hoard of dragons.  We’re all okay.  You can sit down and rest for a bit.  Or better yet, shift and come cuddle Wooley and I.]

           Wooley chirped a cheerful agreement from where he was nearly completely buried by Waxer’s long tail.

           With only a put-upon glare as a protest, Boil shifted into his dragon form, about the same size as Waxer’s but a bit stockier in build, better for ramming into things than slithering through tiny spaces.  His burnt orange scales complimented Waxer’s own bright orange.  Once shifted, he shook himself over once, folded up his wings, and curled up at Waxer’s back.  Immediately, the frills along Waxer’s shoulders turned lovely shades of pink and purple, accenting his warm, violet eyes.

           Kix observed the three of them for a moment before deciding that the cluster of three was better left alone for now.  Instead, he went in search of his own riduur.  Coric had left his side sometime while Kix was asleep, and was probably either in the makeshift medbay—big enough for both medics to fit into as dragons—or combing the battlefields for any more survivors.

It didn’t take long to find him, and surprisingly, he was reporting to Commander Cody and General Kenobi.  The Commander hadn’t shifted, but from the way the medium-ish sized dragon was draped across his back, it wouldn’t be long until he joined the rest of his men in their natural form.  Rex huffed poutily at Cody’s hair, large brown eyes pleading for attention.  Cody hummed soothingly for his riduur, and Rex settled down, careful to keep his sharp claws away from anything that could get ruined or would injure someone.  General Kenobi looked like he desperately wanted to ask questions, but refrained for the time being.

           Kix had always believed that Coric was the most beautiful dragon he’d ever seen.  He was black with bioluminescent blue outlining his scales.  Though every dragon was different, Coric was the only one Kix had ever met with wings like his.  The wings were large and cupped, much like those pleasure gliders that civilians would use to fly without a speeder.  Coric, once he was in the air, rarely had to touch down to earth to rest. He could fly for days if he needed to, much like the man himself.  But it was the electric blue of his eyes that always drew Kix in.  Shards of beskar silver glinted within their depths, almost hypnotizing anyone who happened to look too deeply.  Kix could gaze into them for hours and just drift alongside his riduur’s presence in the Manda.

           [From what Fives and Jesse reported, Hardcase was still alive directly after the explosion.  He shifted right before the explosion and must have curled into a hibernation ball,] Coric reported.

           “A hibernation ball?” General Kenobi asked.

           Commander Cody nodded.  “As dragons, we’re able to curl ourselves into a ball with our head and most vulnerable parts inside and the rest of our bodies covered in an impenetrable armor.  When in hibernation, a vod doesn’t need to breathe as much as we do in a fight or as humans.  And we can go a lot longer without food or water.  As long as someone can get to him soon, he’ll recover just fine.”

           [Tup found what was jamming our communicators. Krell had rigged it up to block all calls within a zone of thirty clicks from the airbase.  That’s why Nabat couldn’t contact you earlier.  He removed the jammer, and we contacted Commander Tano in orbit to send someone to retrieve Hardcase,] Rex said, refusing to budge from his spot against the Commander’s back.

           Kix stepped in before any of them could continue. [Pardon me, General, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to borrow these three for the next few hours.]

           Commander Cody raised an eyebrow while the General ran a hand across his mouth.  “And why, pray tell, do you need to borrow these three?” General Kenobi asked.

           [Because Rex hasn’t slept in nearly three days and is suffering from battel fatigue currently.  Commander Cody is the best qualified to help the Captain.  And I need my riduur.  We’ve been through hell the past few days, General, and we all need a break.]

           That sobered them all up, though Rex threw a betrayed look at Kix.  But if the Captain chose to neglect his own health, then Kix was more than happy to tattle on him to the Commander.  Especially as that had the added effect of coercing the Commander into taking care of himself.  There was nothing Kix could do about the General’s poor health habits, as he left that squarely in Helix’s jurisdiction.

           “I apologize, Kix, Cody, Rex, Coric.  I should have considered your health.  I need to report all of this to the Council anyway,” General Kenobi said with an apologetic bow.  “I believe the call should last several hours, so feel free to take your time to check up on your men and each other.”

           [Thank you, General,] Kix said and then watched as the General left them to go inside the tower to make his call.  Kix turned to the other Vod’e.  [I’m going to go round up a few dozen shinies, Tup, Dogma, Fives, and Jesse and we’re going to all huddle together for a few hours.  No excuses, no exceptions.  Manda knows we need it after everything we’ve been through on this planet.]

           Rex deflated at that.  [I am worried about Dogma and Jesse.  They were really shaken up when I last talked to them.]

           Kix gave a single nod, as though that was the outcome he’d always expected.  It was the one he hoped for, but when he got into one of his moods, Rex refused to give into any suggestions regarding his continued health.  And then he darted off, Coric by his side, as they went off in search of their vod’ikase.  A giant pile of dragons was exactly what they all needed.

           His riduur by his side was all Kix needed.

Credit for the use of Nabat Platoon to @cacodaemonia Please go check out her Reconstruction Corps AU here!

[moonykat]

So deancas reached 100k on AO3, as they are one of the three pairings I love with my entire heart, I think it's only natural to share my favorite fics here.

Btw, if you aren't in the spn fandom, or haven't read any of these I highly recomend to give them a try. They're amazing, could be books, and some of them don't require you to have any previous knowledge about the show.

Emojis for guidance:

😭 angst, please end this suffering. And happy/hopeful ending.

💟 fluff/humor/everything is nice.

💫 could be canon, y'know what they are canon.

🌏 Au / Not previous knowledge required

🌟 absolute favorite shdksjdkdkdjkd

💀 killed me, in the good way, but left permanent scars and haven't been able to read them again. Absolutely recomend, amazing writing, could be a book but they hurt <\3

The sawdust men by Linoresearch 😭🌏

Castiel Novak is an inmate at a labour camp. Life is brutal and no one ever gets out. Castiel’s only goal is to go unnoticed by the barbaric guards, and the violent inmates. Dean Winchester is a soldier without a purpose since the civil war ended. 

Hautley's bend by coldinthestudio 😭💀🌏 (check the tags)

[...]He's never felt this way about a bully, or anyone for that matter, before. Maybe something's wrong with him, that he could feel so attracted to someone who makes his everyday life hell. But then again, he sees the way Dean looks at him sometimes. And there's a lot more to Dean Winchester than meets the eye.

Any port in a storm by microcomets 💟💫

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

Then and now by komodobits 😭🌏

On Christmas Eve, 1988, Mrs. Novak's car stalled on an intersection and was hit by a truck. Her son, Castiel, was nine years old when he woke up the next day and realised that he wasn't going to have a Christmas anymore. Luckily for him, however, Mary Winchester across the road invited him over to have Christmas with them that year - and every year after. Traditions were formed, friendships were built, and Christmas would always be a time for love, even if life sometimes happened along the way.

So says the sword by komodobits 💫💫😭💀🌟🌟 (this definitely happened)

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

Ad astra - Latin; to the stars by nhixxie 💫💫😭💀🌟🌟 (and this too, this is canon all right)

One day Cas says, "Stars died for you, Dean Winchester", against ruffled hair perched atop sun kissed skin and sleepy eyes. Dean stirs, moving to spread his palms against the contour of Cas’ back, tips of fingers languidly strumming the indentations of his spine. One, two, three, four, he counts, the closest he could get to scientifically studying the anatomy of the human body. "Is this some physics crap again?" He frowns with eyes closed. Cas smiles softly. "Far from it." Dean’s fingers play at the base of his back, ninth thoracic vertebrae, Cas notes. "Then tell me all about it."

C-S-T-L by Komodobits 🌏😭😭💀💀🌟🌟🌟

(If you are not in the fandom, and want to try one pleaaaase this is the one, just holy shit it's fantastic)

LJ DCBB 2013. It’s been nineteen years since the beginning of the Last War [...] Their hope is the synthesis of Android Angeles, a series of humanoid machines designed without the capacity to feel, and thus enabling them to be the perfect super soldiers. In order to check their battle suitability, the first prototypes are sent down with a landing party of the men they will later replace, and Sergeant Dean Winchester is paired with Unit 5284-C-S-T-L for the assignment. Cas, as Dean nicknames him, is easy enough to work with - once you get past the emotional vacancy and blatant disregard for human life, that is - but as the squad's tour goes on, Dean gets to wondering whether the Android Angeles are really as unfeeling as he's been told, or if the fear of a reality in which malfunctioning prototypes will be shut down is too great for them to exist any other way.

By your ancient names by microcomets 😭💫

In the ancient days, he had no name. Not to humans, anyway.

And this, your living kiss by opal_bullets 🌏😭💟

Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

Turn on the earth by microcomets 😭😭🌟🌟🌟

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic. (Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

Ninety one whiskey (series) by komodobits 🌏😭🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟💀💀🌟🌟🌟🌟

(My all time favorite supernatural fic, it's simply incredible, the writing is phenomenal, everthing, all of it. Could very easily be a book, it has two sequels. Just, wow, I am so glad I read this. Wow. It's not an easy read though, so check the tags but wow)

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

[staliasjeronica]

Riverdale S5 Ep16 Thoughts *Spoilers*

Thoughts under cut to keep tag clean!

- Archie feeling guilty about his platoon :(

- “Considering you always screw things up…” GO OFF QUEEN!

- Oh thank you for stopping the random musical number but still fuck you Penelope. ‘A young man of few words’ the writers coming after themselves wow

- Jughead 🥺🥺 but what was the point of that scene with Alice (though I’m glad to see her) like—they could’ve just waited for Betty to be available…

- Jughead apologizing to Principal Weatherbee for his apology tour

- Hermosa and Reggie ew but also Veronica’s reaction is priceless. "What KIND of thing?"But it’s sad yet telling that she had more reaction to Reggie x Hermosa than Barcheating. Fuck these writers smh

- I mean Penelope should be in jail but we’re gonna skirt over that huh… but anyways lets upstage her for the millionth time

- THE ANIMOSITY IN VERONICA’S VOICE ASDFGHJKL;

- God poor Archie…

- “I don’t think it’s a war you can win.” “Maybe not, but it’s a war worth fighting.” YES ARCHIE GO TAKE DOWN GENERAL TAYLOR!

- Hiram being dumb enough to not change his locks after his previous co-worker (?) goes to work with his daughter/rival

- OMG CHERONICA?! FUCK. bugdead really helping everyone actually get screen time together we love to see it! fuck bhva <3

- Jughead wearing purple, Jeronica’s color muah

- Jabitha in Pop’s <3

- Betty sabotaging Jughead in whatever way possible without even truly meaning to r.i.p.

- I hate this ministry cult church bs plot but Cheryl’s outfit is *chef’s kiss*

- Archie being Archie and doing the good thing by asking him to step down, hoping/believing that he would be as good as him and step down :(

- … He’s still a solider who WENT TO WAR? Saw awful shit? The army is not some elite group you freak

- Better opening wounds than to let some asshole gets away with murdering many men and therefore CREATING those open wounds...

- Jughead don’t use her novels… don’t do it… I know you will and that you’ll end up not going through with it but PLEASE

- God seeing the boy in the hallway all messed up is amazing cinematography, but feels kind of out of place for Riverdale. They can only write and shoot well when it’s a character and plot focused episode instead of an insane all over the place episode

- LMAO VERONICA SAID FUCK YOU HIRAM AS SHE SHOULD HAVE! Not Hiram calling Veronica petty…??? He’s the petty child, aka a little bitch as Josie puts it.

- Of COURSE Nana Rose was a beekeeper…

- That coptercab thing sounds like an awful idea asdfghjkl;

- Veronica finally getting rid of Chad from her life as she should!

- Jughead drinking alcohol :( He was clean for a week my poor baby, but it’s so hard to kick… hopefully the writers actually allow him to grow and get better

- I know bh don’t have sex or anythning but this music is so… suggestive?? Why make it sound like they’re gonna get together again stop babying the Bughead’s after all they’ve done to everyone and this show??? Let them whine and cry

- The guilt Eric must feel for doing that FUCK “let me bring this home for you, it would be my honor” stop this is so 🥺😭

- Penelope decides to stop them after they’ve done two “miracles”??? okay… lol

- WHOREMONGER AND ESCAPED CONVICT if you want her gone just send her back?? QUEEN OF TTHE BEES BROOOO her making her mother flinch damnnnn

- ERIC GOING WITH ARCHIE AWW what a G though

- VERONICA IN PINK MUAH! “If you’re gonna bee a big boy, you gotta party like a big boy.”

- “You’ve impressed me, Chad.” ew over an awful idea fajsdlfahsf okay

- “probably not, Jughead, but-“ the way they’re speaking is so awkward

- Why does Jughead have to apologize for the voicemail when he said nothing wrong?? Sure it was a bit much and toxic but he was RIGHT why can’t people call out Betty?

- “I’m in recovery”Jughead says, drinking alcohol...

- Betty’s not gonna apologize for cheating huh… oh yeah lets also bring up the fact that you stole Yale from Jughead.

- Betty’s more comfortable with serial killers than being a normal person… yeah we know Betty

- Betty choosing a serial killer over Jughead BUGDEAD!

- Jughead she’s never taken accountability, she’s not going to stop

- Jughead admitting it wasn’t his novel. Good for him, even though he’s gonna lose his career :(

- BETTY JUST LEAVING LMAO OKAY—

- “my boysenberry is blowing up!” asdfghjkl; Veronica sabotaging Chad MUAH WE STAN! YOU’LL NEVER BE AN ALPHA, CHAD, YOU’RE A BORN BETA.

- So now everyone knows that Chad crashed the helicopter and nothing’s gonna happen bc of it huh

- JABITHA GOT A POP’S HANDHOLD OH MY GODDDD

- “Why are you so nice to me?” Jughead never being able to tell when anyone (aka Tabitha and Veronica) is into him what a babie

- It’s so telling that Betty sees Jughead drinking and says absolutely nothing and only talks about what’s going on with her, but Tabitha immediately makes sure that he’s going to continue going to AA and get better. Jabitha eating Bughead up (which isn’t hard to do considering Bughead was never anything good)

- THEY TOOK GENERAL TAYLOR DOWN!! And Eric isn’t in trouble 🥺🥺

- Tabitha going to help Betty muah we love one of the best girls in Riverdale!

- Not Cheryl thinking she’s a witch… like sure I’ve thought of this for a CAOS/Riverdale crossover but—

- “I’ve got this bad feeling about what happens next.” me after every episode of Riverdale bc of thee dumb ass plots

- When the two miners are Archie and Eric and we get Betty digging him out despite how dangerous it is!

- “If Archie dies, you die.” We stan Veronica Lodge <3

[dropoutparty]

shurara corps ark fix-it concept babeyy!!

under a read more bc this shits long LOL

also this is kinda rambly but whatever

when it comes to shuraras motivations here, maybe he could have been another childhood friend of keroros. idk how they could have been introduced, maybe through pururu or just by meeting in school, but ig that part doesnt rlly matter. what DOES matter though is that shurara decided to tag along with keroro, giroro, zeroro, and pururu on one of their misadventures and he gets hurt during it. BADLY. pururu patches him up, and zeroro apologizes like crazy (since he knows how much this sucks), but shurara is left with a strong dislike of keroro and friends. except for pururu, who he still likes (but im not keeping the crush bc it serves no purpose here) and zeroro who he kinda forgives a little bit but just because he apologized so much. maybe this could have resulted in some major physical injury that affected how he lived for a while, or maybe it spawned a phobia, but either way it left an impact.

putata and mekeke are sent in first with the goal of beating up the platoon a little bit and taking the star because they are the most skilled team. shurara doesnt want the star because of some stupid bandaid, but he wants to take it in order to both deeply hurt keroros pride and also to potentially have his platoon no longer be officially recognized, taking away something that means a lot to keroro. they actually succeed in taking the keron star kinda. when they get back to base, they realize that the star is fake, its just a piece of fabric or paper with tape on it (like what happened in the original arcs ending). this way the shurara corps will be established as an actual threat and also the ending will have actual stakes.

gyororo sends word back to base that the keron star putata and mekeke got was fake, so giruru is sent in to ACTUALLY get the real star, as well as punish the platoon for embarrassing the corps like that. this one plays out kinda like the actual episode (bc im too lazy to think of anything else), but all that matters is that he still ends up captured.

after this, the platoon is like ok this might actually be serious so they go on high alert. one day dororo notices gyororo (who was sent in a little before putata and mekeke to scout the place out and gather info) bc hes the only competent member of the platoon and confronts him, outing his presence to everyone. gyororo fights back but he is also captured in the end.

after the platoon has captured giruru and gyororo , shurara plans to capture and torture a member of the platoon as revenge. before he can do this though, dokuku and nuii decide to rescue giruru and gyororo in secret. nuii serves as a distraction to everyone while dokuku goes to rescue the fellaz. theres some minor conflict but in the end the four of them escape. after that happens, shurara is furious about his subordinates disobeying him and doing things behind his back, but he keeps his goal the same.

im gonna change yukikis powers bc they kinda suck and hes confusing. anyways yukiki isnt actually a snowman, but hes the hat! kinda like in mario odyssey, you put the hat on anyone or anything, and it will immediately be controlled by yukiki. he was an experiment done to try to make a sentient object, and he got his name because he was first tested on a snowman (which also makes it the form hes most comfortable taking). anyways, shurara sends in yukiki to capture someone by taking control of them, but hes defeated somehow and returns empty-handed.

im also gonna change robobos powers a bit. with robobo i dont think that he should have the ability to turn people into electronics because thats dumb and doesnt make any sense, so im gonna give him the ability to just control other machines. he also doesnt have a giant form, and can switch his hands between their magnet form and their drill form. anyways, at this point shurara is furious and decides that he doesnt care about capture anymore, he wants the platoon dead. he decides to send robobo for the job because robots dont have the same margin of error that living things do, or at least theyre supposed to. turns out, they totally do bc robobo also comes back with a failure.

after this, shurara somehow lures the platoon to his base (just like in the anime) but this time everyone is waiting for them there in a big empty room together. shuraras disembodied voice gets a monologue like in the anime and the roof opens, lighting the room up because its a bright spring day. kagege then appears and takes control of the platoons shadows like in the anime! all of the shadows are used to fight the platoon, as well as the corps themselves fighting. its an epic fight, but just when it seems like the platoon is all gonna die, the corps suddenly decide to stop fighting. they all tell the platoon about how shurara has been acting worryingly erratic and obsessive, so they agree to spare the platoons life as long as they confront shurara. the platoon obviously agrees, and theyre taken to a holding area so that shurara thinks that theyve won. they give them this offer because theyre not personally invested in killing these nerds, they dont really care. they ARE worried about shurara though, seeing how obsessed with this hes become.

anyways kagege reports to shurara (in my headcanon hes like shuraras right hand man or something like that) and is like "we beat the platoon, but we didnt kill them. theyre our prisoners right now and were gonna torture them before we let you do the honors" and then shuraras like "poggers!!! thats a great idea!!" and then proceeds to drink his choccy milk and play minedcraft. meanwhile, some of the others are actually patching the platoon up and telling them what to do with shurara. they tell the platoon to try to hurt him as little as possible, and DEFINITELY dont fucking kill him, but just try to knock some sense into him and restrain him or something.

the platoon asks why shurara hates them so much and whoevers patching them up doesnt know, but kagege comes down soon after and tells them shuraras motivations. after this, some understanding can be felt by giroro and dororo (bc they were there, even tho dororo is the only one who remembers shirara like at all) and keroro feels kinda guilty but not too much bc head empty. later, the corps has a big celebration feast and shurara declares that hell painfully kill the platoon bright and early tomorrow. in all the commotion, nuii convinces gyororo to sneak down into the platoons holding cells to bring them some leftover food.

the next day, the platoon is brought to the same room that they fought the corps in, and theyre tied up. shurara is talkin abt how hes gonna kill them all super painfully and stuff but little does he know that the ropes holding the platoon are actually not secure at all (on purpose), so the platoon all escapes their bindings and a fight with shurara ensues. when the platoon is in a tight spot, one of the corps will show up real quick and help them out, kinda like a support in a fighting game. eventually, shurara is tied up and defeated technically.

shurara is whining and stuff and calling the corps a bunch of traitors, but the corps talk to him about how worried they all are about him and that this whole thing has gone too far (you rlly think these goobers are worth all this effort??). shurara says something about how keroro hurt him before, so he wants to hurt him and his platoon back. the corps are like ya i get that but killing them is wayy overkill no pun intended. keroro apologizes and maybe dororo can say something about how keroro also hurt him in the past but hes been able to move past that or whatever and shurara is like bro ur right and he starts crying like da babey he is lmao and there u have it!!! the arcs over and everyone is ok and happy!!! found family trope pog!!!!!!

[lassieposting]

Any alive! Skulduggery hcs that you haven't shared? I live by your version of him tbh

Hi anon! I think I covered skug's backstory up to when he signs up to fight and then skipped ahead to when he meets his wife, so you can have the Early War Years

- so when we left skug, he'd been on the pirate adventure and essentially moved in with ghastly's family at age 16, and that's where he stays for the next three years. Ghastly's father introduces him to taking pride in his appearance, Ghastly introduces him to Hopeless, and Ghastly's mother Saoirse introduces him to three things: motherly love, household chores, and the back of her hand for swearing in the house. He settles into the family, flirts with the prettiest local girls, develops an allergy to manual labour, and starts Experimenting™ with Ghastly, who's absolutely besotted with him.

- at 19, he has his surge, and it's bad. Ghastly has his a few months earlier, and it wasn't pleasant, but Ghastly was always going to be an elemental. He was sick and achy for a few days and howling in pain for just one or two. Skug expects much the same: he hasn't used necromancy in years, and he's had the best elemental tutors his parents could find.

- But he's inherited an insanely strong necromancy gene from his biological father, and an insanely strong elemental gene from his mother, and his surge ultimately comes down to two branches of magic trying to destroy each other to be the last gene standing. His temperature skyrockets as the elemental gene tries to burn the necromancy out of him. What looks like black blood seeps from his eyes and his nose and the corner of his mouth. His veins go black as the shadows retaliate. It goes on for days. Ghastly's mother is beside herself trying to get water into him so he doesn't die of thirst.

- If he hadn't also inherited the extremely rare genetic abnormality responsible for magical ambidexterity, his surge would've killed him. But he did, so it doesn't, and eventually he comes out of it and spends the next six months or so just recovering.

- at this point, the sanctuary is pushing recruitment. Ghastly doesn't look twice at the posters, but skug does. Ghastly's whole world is his family, their farm, and his father's tailoring business. But skug's father is a diplomat, he's got extended family involved in the war, he was supposed to go to a fancy French university that ended up being burned down during an attack by some pro-Mevolent riots, he's had to field questions from smaller siblings about when - and if - their dad would be coming home. He's highly educated, politically savvy, and emotionally involved. He decides he wants to sign up to fight.

- Saoirse does her best to talk him out of it, but skug is skug, and he digs his heels in and insists this is what he wants to do. He's going to join the war effort.

- Ghastly and Hopeless think it over and decide to join up with him. Hopeless, because he's an idealistic young man looking for glory, and Ghastly because someone has to watch skulduggery's back and keep him out of trouble, or he'll get himself shot long before he gets to set foot on a battlefield.

- honestly, ghastly isn't expecting skug to last long in the army. Skug is a pampered spoiled rich brat, and he's about to be surrounded by people who will scream in his face and make him do drills and expect him to obey orders, and he thinks it will take a few weeks tops before skug wants to desert

- that is. Not what happens

- like. none of them like it very much to begin with. hopeless has never had to do this much exercise in his life, and he hates it. ghastly is lonely and homesick and just wants to go back to dublin. and their first CO decides he hates skug on like, their first day of training, because he's a smart-mouthed arrogant asshole who's never had to be afraid of anything but his own father, and he does not react well to being ridiculed during drills. skug's ego takes a good solid battering because the other enlistees don't appreciate being given extra chores as punishment for him mouthing off, ghastly has to crack some skulls to make sure he won't be bullied for his scars, hopeless doesn't quite fit in and gets some nasty ribbing over it

- but also? they've got untapped talent, all three of them. they end up black ops fighters for a reason. hopeless tops the class for intelligence and undercover operations, because he can become anyone. ghastly is strong and level-headed and does well under pressure. and skulduggery is a natural leader, a ruthless tactician, and has a tendency to pull off insane plans that would go horribly for anyone else.

- they survive basic training. they get sent into the field. and ghastly and hopeless find that they're actually pretty good at this. they earn the respect of the rest of their platoon. and skulduggery? he starts to thrive

- this is the era of wealthy aristocrats buying their way into leadership positions they don't have the experience or common sense to do well in. almost none of the lower-class soldiers have any patience for it, but as a fellow aristo Skug has the social standing to call them out on it, so he still has a habit of making enemies of his commanding officers. he resents being handed orders by men who are less than he is, less clever, less observant, less capable. he goes out of his way to prove that his way of doing things is better.

- and? it works for him, sort of. he gets promoted several times - first he's pulled out of the enlisted ranks to be trained up as an officer, then he makes lieutenant, then captain - partly because he's Challenging to deal with and partly because he's becoming incredibly competent. it's fairly common for skug to get a flogging (for disobeying orders) and a promotion (because it worked out well for him) simultaneously. he has quite a few stripes by the time he meets wifey. when he starts being given command of a squad of his own, he takes ghastly with him as his number two, and hopeless comes along for the ride.

- at some point, skug gets palmed off on then-colonel corrival deuce. it's phrased as "oh here i'll give you some of my best men", but corrival is experienced enough to recognise "god please take this one off my hands im begging you" when he sees it, and sure enough, he butts heads with skug almost as soon as they're introduced.

- by this point skulduggery's men have developed a reputation for being a bit wild, and they're very loyal to him, so corrival has his work cut out. but? he's got a bit of a different approach to a lot of his fellow officers, because he came up through the ranks himself. so instead of locking horns with skug and trying to flog him into compliance, he turns skug into his pet project, his protégé. he gives him a loose rein, defends his decisions to the higher-ups, and doesn't interfere too much with how skug runs his team, but he also doesn't tolerate backtalk, bullshit or cheek. he's the stern-but-fair mentor figure - the Captain Holt/Captain Pellew/Lord Wellington to skug's Peralta/Hornblower/Sharpe. and skug's never had a very involved father figure, because ghastly's father is massively introverted and his own was short-tempered and perpetually disappointed in him, so corrival trips his "kids want boundaries" switch and actually wins him over.

- corrival hangs onto him after that. as he gets promoted and moved around, skug goes with him, and by extension so do his team. corrival learns to use the sensible members of the group - ghastly and hopeless, then erskine - to triangulate skug and stop his temper getting the better of him. he's incredibly proud of his chosen men, and all three of them really come into their own under his guidance. skug turns down promotion a couple times because it would mean a change of CO, and he knows there aren't many people he'd take orders from anymore.

- and then skug meets wifey.

- when skug gets married, neither his mother or father attend. they don't approve of wifey or her pitiful dowry. they assume, as does kenspeckle, that he's marrying her to Do The Decent Thing because he's knocked her up, and his father reassures him that he doesn't have to marry the girl, just send her somewhere far away and send her money to support her brat, and this whole sorry indiscretion can be put behind him. skug is. furious. he was smart enough not to take wifey with him to announce the engagement, and he ends up having a screaming match with his father that ends with him a) walking out and b) getting disinherited. he marries her anyway, and despite mr and mrs pleasant senior snubbing the whole event, he's got a full complement of parents there all the same - ghastly's parents turn up, and so does corrival.

- it's a military thing - skug's in his military dress uniform, they cut the cake with his sword - the parade sword, at least, the one he's never actually used, they walk out of the venue through the sword arch and skug's team do the rifle salute. ghastly's mother drags him to one side, pulls him down by the shirtfront to fuss over his hair and try to make it lay flat, licks her thumb and wipes a smudge off his cheek, embarrasses him in front of all his friends. then corrival snags him while they're waiting for the bride, tells him off for not having perfectly shiny buttons, redoes his collar for him, and tells him, "You'll do" like he isn't about to cry a lil. he offers skug some whiskey from his flask "for courage" and without really thinking skug says he doesn't need it because he's never been so sure about anything in his life and corrival is just. he's fine. he's not choked up at all. stand up straight, boy, for god's sake.

- he also makes a speech ghastly still brings up hundreds of years later, because it's the soppiest the old man ever got with any of them. along the lines of "i never had a son, and if i had, i like to think he would've turned out absolutely nothing like you, because you are single-handedly the reason i am going grey several hundred years ahead of schedule. that being said, i couldn't be prouder of the man you've become; you are at least half as stubborn and annoying now as you were when i met you, and i think i can claim at least some of the credit." and then, to wifey, "as to you, my dear, you have freed me, this monster is yours now. to your health, and my heartiest hopes that your future children turn out like you, because one of him is plenty."

- wifey laughs until her sides hurt and she's wheezing. skug pretends he's offended. ghastly wolf-whistles noisily and gets clipped round the ear by his mama. corrival tears up a little in the middle of his speech and clears his throat to hide it. and when it's all over and they're about to leave, wifey thanks him for coming because she knows it meant a lot to skug, and he promises her he'll do his best to bring skug home safe and sound until this damnable war is over.

(he wishes he'd been able to keep that promise until the day he dies)

[proudlylost]

My 6+1 favorite SPN fics: AU

After the SPN finale I kinda got sucked back into the fandom. The excessive amount of fanfiction reading ensued (I re-read all of my SPN fic favorites and then some) and I realised I have actually read quite a lot of them. So I thought I could share them, to highlight all the talented authors there is and also to gather all of my favorites into the one place. This post contain my favorite AU fics, the SPN universe edition of this fic rec can be found here.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

“In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU. “ 

READ! THIS! Well, there is some really disturbing war related and time period related stuff, but if you can stomach that, read it! Along with the Angel’s Wild, this is my favorite fanfiction. This fic is heart wrenching and so, so good.The characterization is on point. Historical accuracy is on point. Slow burn is on point. Everything is just perfect. However, as I said, this fic is heavy stuff. There is some serious angst (I cried. I almost never cry when reading) and trauma. But there is glimmers of hope, even if sometimes it feels hopeless. Expected recovery time: at least two weeks. Word Count:  401,183. Explicit

Angel’s wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone

“But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.”

This was first longer fic that I read from Supernatural fandom and I fell in love. So this is “the fic that got me into the fandom” but I have read it multiple times since and it is still very, very good. I love everything about this fic. It is very original and the lore is amazing. I love how Dean and Cas are both quite young (in Cas’s case, relatively speaking) and how their love develops (slow burn! <3) I love how Cas is described and I love how he communicates (unintentionally) with flowers. You can also read this without having any knowledge of supernatural series (like I did) which is always impressive for a fic. Wor count:  389, 271. Explicit

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

“Dean Winchester knows two things about hockey, two things his dad made sure he knew. One, hockey is a guy’s sport, and two, hockey is family. Hockey meant Sam and Bobby and Benny and Victor and Gabriel and hell, his entire team. So when Victor gets traded, Russian-star-turned-new-teammate Castiel Krushnic becomes a threat. As much as Dean hates him for that, the longer he sticks around, the more he begins to threaten that first rule too. Dean’s been taught his whole life that those who play hockey should not be captivated by deep accented voices and the way a guy handles his stick, so how the hell is he supposed to justify what he’s starting to think about Cas? All Dean wanted at the beginning of the season was to win, and now all he wants to do is figure out how he feels about Cas and how to deal with it without ruining his career and tearing his family apart. “

Ah, three of my absolute favourite things smashed into the same fic: sports, slow burn and enemies to lovers. This fic has lots of cameos from supernatural characters, because hockey teams require lots of players. So it is easy to spot your favorite character in this fic. This fic is probably one of may favorites, because of the sport environment (Outside the fandom, I have been super into sports. Like so much I have several national championships medals from my sport. Anyway, not a point here): also the sexual tension between Dean and Cas is so good, especially when they are pumped with the adrenaline. You don’t really need to understand sports to enjoy this fic, though. Word count:  143,592. Explicit

Formula Won by cardinalwrites

“Of all the places Castiel Novak thought he would take in his career, an internship as a Formula One Paddock Correspondent (or journalist, for short) was most definitely not one of them for a few reasons. One: He had no clue what the hell Formula One was. Two: He knew nothing about sports in general. And Three: He should not fall in love with the people he’s supposed to be asking hard-hitting questions to, least of all the head driver of one of the oldest and most well-renowned teams in the sport’s history.

This is a love story told around the world through the eyes of the person that knows the least about where he has found himself in. Come follow a 20-race season finding love in the lost, learning the truth, and figuring out what the hell Formula One is along the way.”

Another sports fic with a slow burn. This is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, because there is quite a lot information about formula one, and the reading experience is more enjoyable if already know about formulas/do your research. Don’t let it stop you though, because this fic is very good. The friendship between Dean and Cas is very natural, and later the romance as well. The plot is very engaging and the drama inside the formula one organization is so good. This fic is also not so “heavy” as the other ones in my list (of course, there are problems along the way, but even the fic’s tags say there will be fluff). The rating is T, which is kinda surprising, because I did not notice it until I already had read the whole fic. Word count: 123,777. Teen

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

This is one of the fandom classics and quite rightfully so. Both Dean and Cas have issues, in other words: what’s new? The sexual chemistry between them was so good and well written, but there is also angst and mental health issues (mostly Cas). Sam is quite young in this fic, but manages to be very much a little brother. I honestly loved this fic when I was a bit younger, but I think it is still very good and deserves its place in this list. Word count  94,054. Explicit

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother's apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is -- a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Ah, it seems that I’m incapable of picking nice, fluffy, happy fanfics. This certainly is not one of them. There is full warnings in the tags, because there is some triggering stuff: PTSD, mentions of past abuse, alcoholism etc. But, this is also very healing story in its own way (It has happy ending. I guess I can spoil that because it reads in the tags) . I avoided this fic for a long time, because the prostitute!Dean tag scared me away, but this was so worth of reading (as I said, happy ending)! Gabriel is super supportive and sweet brother and Dean and Cas are dysfunctional but they work so well despite all the trauma they have endured. Word count:  126,611. Explicit

Bonus: Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Well, I don’t think this fic needs any introductions. This is the fic, the most popular in SPN fandom and one of the most popular ones in the whole ao3. I thought that I could read this, because I don’t generally have many triggers, despite all the warnings. I was a wreck during reading. And I have managed to read it once and I can’t make myself read it again. But it is good and amazingly written. This fic plucks every emotion out of you and does anything it pleases with them. You have been warned. Word count:  97,556. Explicit

(When I wrote this fic rec I also realised I have a serious problem with long fics. Like, most of my favorites are at least 100,000 words. At this point I think I don’t even consider a fic to be slow burn, unless it takes several days to complete the fic. Oops)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Be The One You Need || Joseph Turner ||

A/n: After his death scene I now decided to write a fic where he doesn’t die!! I also found out that he is from my State! 

A/n2: Also, the reader is a nurse in the POW camps helping the wounded Soldiers

I am also using the stupid ass Google Translator for the German parts

Hör auf! Du wirst ihn töten || Stop it! You'll kill him ||

Er ist Amerikaner || He’s a American ||

Der Kapitän wird ihn am Leben wollen || The captain will want him alive ||

Halt! || Stop ||

Er liegt in Ihrer Verantwortung || He is your responsibility ||

Papa, bitte. Lass mich ihm helfen. Denken Sie an Mia || Papa,please. Let me help him. Think of Mia ||

Gut, aber sei vorsichtig. Ich kann kein anderes Kind verlieren.|| Fine, but be careful. I can not lose another child.||

Kriegsgefangenenlager || Prisoner of war camp ||

Steh auf! Wir müssen gehen || Get up, we must go ||

Nein! Ich verlasse ihn nicht || No! I am not leaving him ||

ich liebe dich || I love you ||

Warnings: Blood, gore,Torture, a hinted sex scene.

Synopsis: When Joseph is sent his men away he knew he was going to die, he accepted his fate. He never thought he’d wake up in a POW camp with German soldiers surrounding him. Though he really didn’t expect he’d find the woman of his dreams.

Joseph remembered getting shot, the bullet wound in chest was a dead give away. He expected to die in the forest, though gritting his teeth staring up at the German solider he was not expecting the butt of the gun to the base to his skull.

Though the last thing he heard before everything went dark was a soft voice screaming at one of the men.

“Hör auf! Du wirst ihn töten“

Well, at least he wasn’t dead, though it’s to bad his men already thought he was.

You knew this was not a good situation to be in but it was the only way you could avenge your sisters death. You hated working for the very people for why youe sister was gone, for why your brother in law was gone. That is what you kept telling yourself. You would save as many as these American soldiers you could, maybe some good would come of it.

Medical bag in hand, you could feel your skin crawl seeing all the bodies around you. The American’s never had a chance, eyes scanning the area you looked for any trace of life. You were about to give up hope until you saw him, one man still fighting for his life, no he was fighting to give his platoon a chance to escape. You flinched as he took another hit and you knew this was your chance to do some good. You had to stop them from killing him, shoes slipping in the mud you pushed yourself as fast as you could.

“Halt!“

The three soldiers glanced over at you, they didn’t look to happy but knowing who your father was they weren’t going to question it but that didn’t seem to stop one of the men slamming the back of his gun to the base of his skull.

“Hör auf! Du wirst ihn töten” 

The man scoffed as he spat down on the man’s unconscious form. “Er ist Amerikaner”

Shaking your head you knelt by the man, wiping the mud from his face you bit your lip then opened up his shirt seeing the wound. Sighing you took out a bandage pressing it against his wound. It would have to do for now, hopefully it would keep him alive until you reached the camp. “Der Kapitän wird ihn am Leben wollen”

A lie pulled from your teeth though they’d believe you, while you hated the thought of sending him to a POW camp it was the only way to keep him alive.

“Er liegt in Ihrer Verantwortung“ The solider growled out not caring about heaving the American on a gurney as the three escorted you two back towards the camp.

Shouting, he was hearing a lot of shouting. He could hear that soft voice, the one he heard before he lost conciseness followed by a gruff voice. One that did not sound to happy that he was here.

“Papa, bitte. Lass mich ihm helfen. Denken Sie an Mia.”

Reaching out, you placed your hand on top of your fathers making him lower the gun. You hated bringing up your sisters death but it was the only way for him to stop.

“Gut, aber sei vorsichtig. Ich kann kein anderes Kind verlieren.” Giving on last look to the American he squeezed your hand before leaving the small medical tent.

“I see you are awake.” It was hard to speak English though thanks to a few soldiers you spoke too you manged to grasp some of the language.

“Ah..” Gritting his teeth, Joseph tried to sit up only to feel a jolt of pain to rush through his body. “Where am I.”

“You are.” Sighing you knelt beside the man taking in his looks. Once the dirt was off his face you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. “Kriegsgefangenenlager.”

Kriegsgefangenenlager....he’s heard that word enough times to know what that was. “POW huh? you might as well put a bullet in my head cause I’m not tellin you shit.”

Dropping your shoulders you scowled for a moment before taking a deep breath in. Walking towards the door you gave it a small peak, seeing that nobody was near you knelt beside him. “I am trying to help you.” 

“Why.”

“For my sister.” Clearing out your throat you did your best to smile grasping his hand. “I am Y/n.”

“Turner...Joseph Turner.”

Months had gone by, Joseph slowly recovered and soon he was able to work in the camp. He still felt weak, they weren’t feeding him and the other soldiers much but with some of his boy’s here. He would do anything to make sure that they were getting helped first.

Though if it was not for you, well he knew that he would have been dead a long time ago. You were the one good thing that had happened to him in his hell hole. You were kind, always wore a smile on your face when helping him or the other few soldiers. He just prayed that helping him wouldn’t get you killed. Glancing down at his hands he could see some blisters starting to form, his nails bloodied. No doubt from him banging on the door and walls of the small room he was put in. Sighing he peered through the small window of the room, he was about to just sleep in the small cot until he saw it. That one bastard that was that always harassed you, he wouldn’t mind getting his hands around that bastards neck. Gritting his teeth his hands clutched the cold bars.

“Hey! You Nazi prick leave her alone.” That seemed to draw his attention away from you and onto him.

“What did you say!”

“You deaf or stupid.” Joseph gritted his teeth. He knew that Pierson would be proud of him. “I called you a Nazi prick and told you to leave her alone.” Though for good measure he made sure to spit in the Nazi’s face.

Now that must have really pissed the man off because the next thing he knew his door was flung open and a fist connected to his jaw. He could feel the Nazi on top of him. The man continuing to punch him though he felt some relief when someone pulled him off of is chest.

Blinking a few times, Joseph could feel blood drip down his face as he looked up at the person who saved him. It was a man, he must have been important judging by the metals on his jacket. Though the man, to his surprise he wasn’t yelling at him. He was yelling at the soldier.

He couldn’t understand what they were saying but he did notice the sharp glare that the man gave him before he left. Wincing he finally noticed the older man’s hand. He was holding it out for him, taking it he felt his body felt lifted.

Wincing he was able to mutter out a thank you as he sat on his cot. His arm wrapping around his waist.

“Thank you...for watching over my daughter.”

Joseph was surprised with how good his English was though he wasn’t going to comment.

“Ya well...I’d be dead if it wasn’t for her.“ He’d be a lot of things if it wasn’t for you though he wasn’t about to tell your father that.

“Papa!” Holding back a groan he’d rather you not see him like this. Spitting out some blood he gave you a weak smile. “Y/n.”

“Oh Joseph, why did you have to do that?”

Easing back on the bed he let out a weak chuckle. “That bastard has know right touching you like that.”

Frowning you lowered your gaze for a moment cleaning the blood off his face. Glancing at your father you felt him place his hand on your shoulder.

“Remember, be careful.” Giving you two one last look he left the room leaving you both alone.

Sighing you placed a small kiss to his forehead before standing. “Close your eyes, I need to grab a few things.”

Closing his eyes, Joseph ignored the pain as he fell asleep. Yes, he was lucky to have you.

Joseph was starting to enjoy your little visits, he got to teach you more English while you told him more about yourself.

“Dog’s or Cats?” Joseph asked, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. Snorting you shook your head as you glanced up at him, tending to a wound on his face. 

“Dogs, what kind of question is that?”

“Really. I pegged you for a cat person.”

“I am going to ignore that remark. Now tell me more about this Red Sox?”

Laughing Joseph shook his head his hand grasping yours gently. “Boston Red Soxs, they’re a baseball team...the best if you ask me. My dad used to take me to see them all the time.” Sighing he closed his eyes, what he wouldn’t give to be home. “I think you would like Boston.”

Biting your lip you gave him a small smile. “Maybe you could take me to Boston.” Leaning in close Joseph returned the move as he inched closer to your lips. 

“I’d like that.”

Then it happened, he kissed you and you kissed him back. Part of you could feel that it was wrong. What if something happened to him though you felt like you couldn’t hide your feelings any longer. Pressing your body closer to the man you pushed him down on the bed as you deepened the kiss. Your fingers sliding under his shirt as his hands slid under your dress.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion, it didn’t take long for you both to lose your clothes and to lose yourself in the love making.

Spent, you rested your head against his chest. You will stay here for a moment, you just wanted to be in his arms. “ich liebe dich.”

“hn...well I love you too y/n.”

Another week had passed and Joseph found that it was getting much colder. He did not know what month it was but he didn’t care, everything was just turning into a blur. The one good thing was seeing you, the kisses you two shared or the intimate nights. Hearing your moans of pleasure whenever you two had sex was one of the things he had to commit to memory.

Closing is eyes, Joseph breathed in the cold air, he was out of his small cell for once, he couldn’t remember what he was doing though what he did know was that he saw that same bastard that was harassing you but this time he watched the man slide his hand up your skirt. Seeing your tears was enough to make him see red.

Everything happened so fast, he did not know where his strength came from but one moment he was on top of the solider, the next he was dead. He felt the other soldiers tug him off the body. He knew their guns were trained on him and if he had to die protecting you then so be it, at least you would be safe from that bastard.

Joseph felt the gun press against he head, he waited for it go off but then it didn’t though what did happen was a large shout, the voice echoing through out that camp. Your father of course, he tried to listen the best he could.  He heard a few words.

‘Do not kill him, solitary confinement’

But then everything went dark, why was it always a butt of a gun that knocked him out.

Joseph knew that the solidarity confinement would be bad, he knew that the meals would be coming in less which meant that he would have to hide the stale bread he got, the beatings he could get through, if he thought about you and your smiling face it was something that he could easily help him not think about the pain. It was the isolation that was getting to him, not being able to see you or hear your voice.

Rubbing his hands together for warmth he heard the cell door open, he tried to fight but he could give his body give out. Everything was coming in flashes then soon Joseph felt his body get strapped to a table that was inclined followed by a cloth being placed over his over his forehead and eyes. They knew what they were doing, controlling the water as they gradually dripped it over the cloth. Once they finished they the men lowered the cloth over his nose and mouth.

He could feel the cloth being saturated with the water as the fabric completely covered his mouth and nose. He could feel is air flow being restricted, the seconds counting up. 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20. He could feel his lungs burn, desperate for air. He could feel them continuously applying the water above then once the 20 seconds was up he could breath again. He did not know how many breaths he took until they did it again.

Then he heard a voice by his ear. “We might not be able to kill but know one said a thing about torture.”

He did not know how long it lasted, he knew he must have black out a few times because it was a burn to his arm that would awake him.

Taking another breath before they placed the cloth back on his face Joseph let out a laugh. “To bad I didn’t manage to kill another one of you bastards.” he had to bight back a scream when he felt the pressure of a knife in the palm of his hand.

Blood dripping on the ground, mixing in with the water. Turner had a feeling that it would not take long for him to get sick though the most have gotten bored since it did not take long for him to be back in his cold cell. Not having the strength to crawl to his cot, he just laid on the ground feeling that it wouldn’t be long.

It was not easy to get the keys to Joseph’s cell, it took a lot of convincing on your fathers part. Medical bag in hand you rushed to the cell, doing your best to keep your head low as you passed a few of the other Americans’ cells. Only six left now but you couldn’t focus on them not when you had to get to Joseph. Urging yourself to move fast your shoulders sagged with relief once you reach his door. 

Unlocking it you had to bite back a cry seeing the man you’ve come to care about lying on the ground. Vomit near the edge of his cot, rushing to his side you placed the back of your hand to his head. He was burning up but the rest of him was so cold. Though know matter how hard you fought your tears you could still feel them running down your cheeks. You knew you had to tend to his wounds before you did anything else. You wrapped the wound on his hand, cleaned the burns on his arm. Shaking your head you sat behind him, letting his head rest on your lap as your fingers ran through his hand. His breathing was shallow and if you did not get the medicine he’d need well you did not want to think about what would happen.

“You are going to be alright...just sleep Joseph.”

Tensing, you clutched Joseph closer as you watched the door swing open though your shoulders sagged with relief seeing it was your father.

“Steh auf! Wir müssen gehen”

Holding him close, your hand reached out to gently hold Joseph’s broken one. “Nein! Ich verlasse ihn nicht.”

“I was not asking you to do that...now get up.” Your father demanded.

Swallowing, you were reluctant to leave Joseph’s side but you relaxed once you watched your father lift then place him over his shoulders. 

“We must be quick.”

It did not take long for you to reach the front gate, nor the truck that seemed to be waiting for you. You did not want to question what your father did to the German soldiers, though you gasped once you saw the remaining American soldiers huddled together in the back of the truck. Your father then placed the unconscious Joseph on the bed, once he help you he then gave your hand a small squeeze. “Keep your head low and do not say a word.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to your head then closed the flaps of the truck. Giving one last look to the camp he slid into the truck, you didn’t have to know about what he did. The only thing he did know was that he did not do this sooner. 

Starting up the truck he drove off, driving to the closet known American camp. Soon you would be safe and then he knew that he could finally be able to breath.

Tugging the blanket ;/.. over Joseph’s body, you had given him the little medicine you had. While his fever may have broke for now you knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Brushing back a strand of his hair, you tensed when the truck stopped.

You heard the shouts of American voices followed by your fathers and it was not long until the back was opened and gun’s were pointed at you. Covering Joseph you watched as the men from the camp move in front of you. They were shouting at the men who were pointing their guns at you. It took a loud gun shot for everything to go silent.

Stepping forward, gun raised you noticed a tall man walking towards you. “Now can you tell me why. A fucking krout is driving a truck full of American soldiers.”

“They saved our lives sir.” one of the men besides you stated.

“Now I find that hard to believe.”

“Pierson...it’s true. I owe her and her father my life.” The voice was weak though it was Joseph that spoke. He was sitting up, leaning into your body for support as he gave a glare to Pierson. “And you better kill me now if you’re going to do anything to them...cause I will not let you harm them.”

“Shit...Turner...you’re alive....we thought you were dead.”

“I would be if it wasn’t for her..now put your guns down so I can explain”

Lowering his gun, Pierson nodded his head as he held out his hand. “It’s good to have you back.”

It was good to be back, to see all his old comrades again, though he had to remind Daniels that it wasn’t his fault nor he blame him.

It was even better to be back in your arms, he did not like that he had to be stuck in some hospital but at least he had you and it would not belong until they were sending him home for an honorable discharge. He hated that though you had to remind him that he was not fit to fight. With his pneumonia and the fact the he lost his arm due gangrene, he was still stubborn as a mule.

“You should be happy you are going home. You can show me these Red Sox’s and I can take care of you, making sure you really get some rest.” Smiling you pressed a small kiss against his cheek.

“Hmp, that’s the only good thing about this....y/n...how is your father?”

Tensing, you sighed shaking your head. “He is well, he is helping the Americans..he is helping that Pierson with information and since he is a doctor...well he is useful to keep around.”

“Do not say that beautiful....if it was not for your father....well we wouldn’t be here now would we...and people now know that good German’s exist.” he teased.

“You are lucky that I love you.” 

 The smile he wore slowly slipped off his face as he grasped your hand gently with his good one, still not used to his prosthetic. “I love you too, but y/n....something has been on my mind for a while....what happened to your sister?”

Sighing you lowered your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “She was killed, for falling in love with the wrong man.”

Looking you over he then tugged you into his lap as he gave the side of your head a kiss. “I’m sorry...”

“I am too.”

“Alec!play nice with your sister!” A stern voice shouted out the window, he only relaxed once he saw the little boy stop chancing the little girl.

Smiling you made your way over to the man, your arms wrapped around your husbands waist. “You are a good father.”

Snorting, Joseph craned his neck then gave you a smile as he faced you. His hand rubbing small circles on your growing stomach. “You are wonderful mother.”

Looking back on it, getting shot in that forest was the best thing that happened to him.

[steveyoungjokes]

Veteran Feelings

[Unedited, please bear with me] I see many of my fellow veterans proclaiming that they feel sad about the fall of the U.S. client State in Afghanistan. Most of them say something like “surely we needed to leave, just not like this.” Many claim that their feelings are complicated. First of all, how did you see our exit going? It was always going to look like this! Secondly, I’m certain that their feelings are complicated. I had complicated feelings when I first realized that I was being used. That I’d been had. Taken advantage of. I served in Ramadi, Iraq, and watching it fall to ISIS was a horror. I know what you’re thinking and feeling as you watch us lose Afghanistan.

Your complicated feelings are the beginning of the realization that, despite your intentions, you were a tool for evil.

Whether it was to serve our country, pay for school, to just have a job, or (like a platoon sergeant of mine) because a judge made you, we all had reasons for joining. Most of us didn’t join up because we wanted to kill people (though there are plenty of those assholes), but our willingness to engage in violence for our country, or for college money, or whatever, was used by the folks in power to evil ends. Rather than serving your country, you served big business. I spent a total of 12 years in the Marines before becoming disillusioned and leaving the service. So when I tell you that you got played, I know how much that burns.

We weren’t in Afghanistan (or Iraq, for that matter) to build a nation, or to promote feminism or democracy, or even to capture Bin Laden; at best those were tangential goals. Even if you were sent there to give microloans to ladies, or to protect a polling place, you were only there to give a veneer of respectability to an illegal and immoral invasion. If you were sent by the U.S. government, you were helping its mission in making Afghanistan profitable for the companies that sell shit to the U.S. military and extract shit from Afghan land. At best you lent undeserved credibility to the U.S. mission there while maybe helping a local Afghan’s day better. At worst, you’re a war criminal. Most of us are closer to being war criminals than not, and that’s something we need to confront as a group and individuals.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that it was about making money. And the folks that started the U.S. invasion there (and Iraq. I’m starting to sense a pattern) didn’t lose the war, even though their home country may now be leaving the place behind. Rather than losing, they made out like bandits, making billions of dollars at the cost of hundreds of thousands of dead, millions displaced, and a country in ruins.

If you think that we were the good guys, then answer me why U.S. Marines use the Waffen-SS flag? Would the good guys use prisons at Bagram as CIA black sites to torture and murder prisoners? Would the people on the right side of history have suffocated or shot up to 2,000 prisoners in after surrendering? What of the thousands of Afghan civilians that are still being killed or wounded every year after decades of our presence there?

If we were there to help build a nation, why, after 20 years does Afghanistan still rank 169th on the U.N.’s Human Development Index? If we were there to rebuild their country, why, after spending $143 billion dollars of Afghanistan’s reconstruction is there no significant improvement in the lives of the vast majority of Afghans or development of basic infrastructure? We can talk about the kleptocratic leaders of Afghanistan, but they’re small potatoes compared to the largesse raked in by U.S. corporate interests.

If we were there to get bin Laden, why did we turn down the Taliban’s offer to turn him over. Was it because they wanted evidence, and we didn’t have any at the time? Or did we really just want an excuse to invade? Probably both. The same day that the FBI said they didn’t know who committed these attacks, President Bush said they knew who to aim our revenge toward. He claimed that they “hate our freedoms”, without any evidence to support that he was indicating the right people or that they did indeed hate our freedoms. If they hated our freedoms, why did the 9/11 hijackers target the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and not the Statue of Liberty? Could it be that they had seen that U.S. forces had, for over a century, invaded or coup-ed dozens of countries throughout the world at the behest of corporations? Perhaps they wanted to strike a blow, not at our freedoms, but at the military and economic terrorism that our government has wrought around the world in order to make sure that companies were “free” to make money without the pesky natives getting restless. Perhaps they remembered the time when U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright (#girlboss), said that killing 500,000 Iraqi children was “worth it.”

The enemy of the 9/11 hijackers is the same enemy as the rest of us. Our bosses. The person who tells us what to do. This is often a political leader. More often it’s a manager at work. For most of us, the boss just controls your schedule, your attire, and your pay (while making money off your work) and maybe your health insurance. These are relatively minor levels of freedom-usurpation. However, the managers and owners of the biggest companies, especially those that sell to the U.S. military, make billions off war whether we win or not! They only need the war to go on long enough to make a buck (well, billions of bucks). Political leaders in the U.S. rub shoulders, if not take orders from, those high-powered bosses. So any political repressions that our government engages is are usually aligned with the interests of the wealthy (see, e.g. the war on drugs). The present example is no different: in 2001 the leader of the Northern Alliance made an oil pipeline deal with an Argentine Company; we made sure he was killed on September 10, 2001. But now that the Taliban has vowed to not disrupt the pipeline project, and is actively extracting and selling minerals with the knowledge and aid of U.S. forces, it’s suddenly much less necessary for the U.S. to remain there.

If you have complicated feelings, it’s because you’re mad that you’ve been had. You wanted to do good, and only bad came from it. You wanted to help Afghanistan, but the U.S. only made it worse. That’s a tough pill to swallow when you’ve grown up believing that you’re on the good side. Now that you know that we’re the baddies, I implore you to help take power from the real bad folks, those who make sure that military options are on the table because they are the options that make money for the already wealthy.

Your complicated feelings probably include anger. Just make sure you direct your anger at the right enemy. The Taliban is bad, definitely, but they’ve objectively done less bad in the world than U.S. foreign policy has. Help us change this country so that it will serve its citizens, and not harm anyone. Get money out of politics, fight for democracy in the workplace, and the right to vote guaranteed for everyone.

[lewis-winters]

I would like to hear your pat headcanons if you would ever like to talk about them

and I would love to word vomit it all for you! (I hope you don’t mind that I answer this publicly-- if you do, just tell me!)

Pat has eldest daughter syndrome vibes. He constantly has to be perfect. He constantly feels responsible for those around him even if they never intended to give him the impression that they needed protecting. It just makes sense to him, big and strong and level headed Pat, to take care of those who-- at least to him-- are small and helpless.

He is, sometimes, very condescending. Because he may have the need to take care of people, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. He rolls his eyes so much even his eye sockets have muscles.

And also, surprisingly, really destructive? He is very chaotic, he just doesn’t come off as very chaotic because he is also very very repressed. He’s the kind to sit in a corner and draw his feelings out and sit alone a lot to meditate over his life and his choices.

But he’s also the kind to stack a bunch of grenades on a pile of rocks to make them go boom. He’s also very very dramatic if you catch him at the right time in the wrong headspace.

He feels failure keenly. Except, sometimes, his response to this is to isolate himself. Can’t let anybody down when they can’t get too close am I right? Horrid coping mechanism. Terrible idea. He does it anyway, because he’s surprisingly good on his own. Very self-sufficient our Pat. A gift and a curse.

Of course, that’s when he gets dramatic. He has moments where he’s like oh my friends don’t love me I am unlovable I hate myself no one will ever want me I am disgusting I do not deserve to love or to want therefore I cannot let people know I want so badly to be held, to be kissed--

And then he eats like. A packet of m&ms and he’s fine.

He is also roaringly funny when you catch him in the right mood. Which is never a good mood. It is always either a very sardonic mood or a very ticked off kind of mood. He’ll make quips and play off George surprisingly well and it’s always a riot when you get Pat sarcastic enough to lob quips back and forth. Usually, that’s how he gets into a good mood. He makes people laugh then he absorbs their energy.

Astrology bitch. He is an astrology bitch. That is probably the only Californian thing about him. That, and he’s a total plant mom.

He’s a loner and a bitch with a heart of gold that you have to work to dig for because, otherwise, you don’t deserve it. (And also, he wants to be loved but he will make you work for it, he is that bitch.)

((Also like. Since we’re here. Have some Pat/Chuck under the cut hahahahaha))

Pat/Chuck is so intriguing to me because, for the  first time ever, Chuck doesn’t take up a mom-friend or  responsible-friend role because Pat, unlike all their other crackhead friends, is extremely self-sufficient. And Chuck, poor Chuck, who shows his love by taking care of people, is completely stumped when he’s confronted by Pat, who 1) doesn’t need help; 2) never asks for help because he’s used to doing things alone, and; 3) is allergic to all things that bring  out his vulnerability.

Watching them interact at the very  beginning of their relationship was like watching an unstoppable force  (Chuck) meet an immovable object (Pat). Chuck catches feelings first--  mostly because Pat’s good looking and just Chuck’s type, but soon it  kinda evolves into very-serious-feelings territory the longer Chuck’s  around Pat and gets to know him better.

In a modern au, Chuck’ll  be all like; “I can help you move in to your new apartment.” and Pat’ll  shut him down with a; “Oh, no, it’s ok. I managed to save enough to hire  this cheap moving company I found. They have consistent five stars on  Yelp and Google review and even on Facebook, and I also made sure to  pack all my stuff according to this system I arranged so I can unpack  them efficiently enough to get it done in just a day. I have all planned  out, see?”

Or at one point, in canon au, Chuck will offer to help  oil Pat’s rifle *wink wink* and Pat will decline because, not only does  he not understand the invitation, but he has already oiled his rifle to  perfect working order and has also scrubbed clean all of second  platoon’s rifles and their machine gun, scrounged them up all the needed  amo, and found time to shine his boots, too.

So, without his main  performative love language, Chuck just resorts to... being silly around  Pat. Because he doesn’t know what to do with himself but he does know  he wants to be around Pat as much as possible.

And Pat’s so quiet and cool and collected but is, as I said, roaringly  funny once you get to know him, except it’s really difficult to because  he likes being alone most of the time. And Chuck’s so cool and  collected too, except around Pat. He stumbles over his words and says  stupid things he would never be caught dead saying in front of the other  guys and he always feels like an absolute idiot around Pat, especially  when Pat has such witty quips every time.

Except Pat is absolutely delighted by Chuck. He’s the only one Pat allows himself to be silly around. They have the  most childish conversations ala-”If I woke up as a donut I would eat  myself” and Pat loves it. He doesn’t feel judged or simply humored by  Chuck, he feels listened to and taken seriously and loved. It takes  awhile, but slowly Chuck finds that he doesn’t feel as much of an idiot  about their conversations, especially when Pat’s so receptive of Chuck’s  own brand of silly.

[mk-wizard]

Is Heatwave really an Autobot?

Two fan theories in one day! This one came out of the blue and it was inspired by @geminiofpluto​ who had an art piece in her reblogs that seemed strange, but now, kind of explains a bit about Heatwave. The big obscure fan theory I am going to discuss is the Autobot from the beloved Rescue Bots series aimed for small children and how he may have a huge skeleton in his closet. The big theory and mystery is... is Heatwave really an Autobot?

Now, I know what many fans are thinking. Of course he’s an Autobot! He’s got the insignia, he calls himself one and he’s a Rescue Bot for crying out loud! However, might I remind everyone that in the beginning of the series, Heatwave didn’t want to be a Rescue Bot especially not for humans. He wanted to be a soldier in Optimus Prime’s platoon and even after he was given his task, he practised it begrudgingly making it constantly obvious that he didn’t want to be there. While his coworkers found joy in their jobs, Heatwave never completely did. Sure, he does save people and he does have a good spark, but that doesn’t mean he’s a saint. Heatwave always came across as the most hostile out of the four bots and even when he went on to become a teacher in Rescue Bots Academy, this aggression remained.

I also noticed something else that is worth noting even if it seems a weird: Heatwave is the most frightening when angry. He bares his teeth, raises his voice, clenches his fists, is not above making threats and has even gotten spiteful at times. Another thing about Heatwave that is unbecoming of an Autobot is that he doesn’t seem to like people very much in general not just humans. And not in an unfriendly-I-just-want-to-be-left-alone way like Gears does. Heatwave is an-I-hate-everything-and-everyone level of not liking people. And the more he doesn’t like you, the meaner he can get. I mean, just look at how he treats Hotshot. Yes, Hotshot is a handful, but I have to say it if no one else will, Heatwave actively singles him out and when he becomes his personal instructor, he is negligent and even tricks him into doing janitor work. Moreover, he only starts warming up to Hotshot when the kid starts idolising him which just seems off to me. The only type of people Heatwave does seem to like are fighters and fans hence why he idolises Optimus and respects Cody. And why he only took a liking to Hotshot when he started to idolise him. The more I look at Heatwave’s personality profile, the less I see an Autobot. Yes, deep down, he is good and tries to stay on the straight and narrow, but it seems to be a struggle with him. This has lead me to think that maybe just maybe Heatwave isn’t really an Autobot at all. Methinks that Heatwave has a bit of Decepticon in him.

Like I said, this doesn’t mean his moral alignment isn’t good. It is all the way. However, having Decepticon code in your data does have an impact on you and it is a fact that it does give the Transformer a predisposition to be a fighter. While some bots are better at managing these aggressive urges, they all have it. I would imagine that these urges are even harder to manage in an Autobot society which is well meaning, but has the backwater lifestyle of suppressing negativity rather than dealing with it which explains why Heatwave is a bundle of nerves. As DeviantArt user beccaboo13 explains in an article post of hers, she noticed the same traits in Heatwave and explains that he either was once entirely Decepticon and converted or one of his parents was a Decepticon meaning while his frame and insignia are Autobot, his data had Decepticon in it.

However, unlike her, I don’t think Heatwave is aware of it because he has the Autobot mentality and patriotism. He also only knows the Autobot way hence his loyalty to the Prime and wanting to serve him directly. My theory is that Heatwave was born a Decepticon, but converted as a sparkling or very small youngling by a set of adoptive Autobot parents who have yet to confide in him. Or one of his parents converted to Autobot, but this process is not perfect so some Decepticon got carried over to Heatwave. Keep in mind that in Autobot society, interfactional marriage is forbidden so having the Decepticon parent convert was the only way they could get married and both live on Cybertron.

Now, this isn’t to say that the Decepticon data (if it is there) has done only a disservice to Heatwave. The same Decepticon code that makes him hostile, stubborn and daring also makes him protective, passionate and willing to take heroic risks hence why he is a Rescue Bot at all. I mean, why should he be reduced to pretending that he’s a mindless robot and never take credit for his own hard work? And seriously, is he really in the wrong about being angry that he got reduced to a playground? Is this honouring him really even under the guise of a mindless robot? It’s not and frankly, if his partner respected him back, he would have at least asked the kids to not bring food on him and handle with care. This... come on. This is objectification and mockery.

Anyway, that is my fan theory inspired by @geminiofpluto​ and hope you all liked it.

[keoghans]

Hey Chuck

Hello and welcome to this Chuck Grant fanfic. I always loved this dude, and I see little to no work about him, so, I took it upon myself to do fic about him. I invented a character, his love interest, because I cant write reader insert, I just, it bothers the fuck out of me to write like that lmao. 

Special mentions for @notmykirk @liebthots @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @alphapockets for proofreading, giving ideas and helping a distressed, nervous writer lol, you lot were brilliant!

This is super angsty, but also filled with fluff and stupid cliches. 

Pairing: Chuck Grant x OC

Warnings: angst, shitloads of angst. Mention of rape. Slight, non-explicit smut. Cursing.  

Word Count: 12k (I know, IM SORRY)

Epilogue 

Three knocks and an anxious wait.

The door was opened by the tall ginger that didn’t seem to ever age. 

“Hannah Davis! What brings you here?” he exclaimed with a broad smile as he hugged her smaller frame. 

“How are you, sir? You look great!” she replied and he furrowed his eyebrows at her answer.

“Hannah, the war is over, it has been for a while, I go by Richard, Rich, or Dick, please,” he said, as he let her in his house. He sounded the same, warm, emphatic, funny. 

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she replied, checking out his living room. He lived in a beautiful, tall house, very homey. It had a fireplace on and a half finished drink on the nearby table. 

“My wife went to visit her brother, a man that’s never approved of me, so I stayed back,” he explained, serving another drink for her. 

“I remember when you first told me that he wasn’t fond of you and I wondered, how the hell does someone not like Dick Winters?” she replied and they both chuckled. 

“Her parents like me, and so does she, so… it doesn’t really matter”. 

Hannah didn’t marry post war, and it had been only a year, but most of Easy Company was already having children, marrying or at least dating. 

She had her heart set on someone but she had lost all contact with him and the Army didn’t help her trying to get what she needed.

So, after an hour and a half of reminiscing about the war, about Austria and the Eagle’s Nest, Winters caught up to her.

“Hannah, with all due respect… I know this isn’t just a casual visit, or you would’ve brought Luz or someone else with you,” he started, trailing off for her to speak. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, the man had always been prone to read people like a piece of paper. She struggled for a few seconds, her nerves coming back to her, scratching the back of her head absentmindedly.

“I’ve been trying to find someone… Someone from the Company, and I don’t want to ask the rest of the men because… Well, if this fails, I don’t want it to be gossip between them; and the Army couldn’t help me, they cannot give out information about former paratroopers,” she explained. 

“I have all of the men’s information with me, so, who are you looking for? Though—some information can be outdated, I haven’t updated it in a couple of years,” Dick said, looking for an old black book that had ‘Easy’ embroidered in the front.

“Say the name.”

“Uh… Charles Grant—NCO Chuck Grant.” 

Rick smiled softly, looking down as he looked for his name in his book. 

“What?” she asked, slightly embarrassed. He knew.

“Nothing. Sergeant Grant is an exceptional man, I felt deeply for him when he got shot,” he explained and placed a ruler under his name, handing the notebook to Hannah.

“I know he is, that’s why I’m looking for him,” she said, looking down at his name, copying the information of his address and phone number. 

Richard looked at her with his usual witty, warm smile. 

“Thank you, Dick” she said, closing the notebook and giving it back.

“Like my wife would say, ‘go get him’.”

///

Hannah had Chuck’s address and phone for a month and a half. 

Every time she thought about calling him, or showing up at his place, fear shook her body and threw her back to square one. She had taken a cab to her former Major in the Paratroopers for forty five minutes to find a man’s address and she couldn’t actually talk to him. 

Hannah laid in her bed, after a long day at the hospital. She was eating leftover carrot cake she had made a week ago, feeling dreadful, looking at the little paper with Chuck’s name sitting on her bedside table, and remembered the many times they shared. 

Bastogne was the coldest hell Hannah had ever experienced, and she knew it was never leaving her head after everything that transpired.

The trees exploded every now and again. As desperation settled inside each mind, everyone started wondering which was getting killed next. 

Then the casualties came: Joe Toye and Guarnere lost each other one leg to mortars, Don Hoobler accidentally shot himself in the leg and the blood loss took his life. Muck and Penkala got blown to pieces by another mortar. 

She had tried to save as many lives as possible as she had to shoot Germans from afar, fearing death every single second she moved around the snow covered forest.

She had short moments of peace, and most were laying in a foxhole, trying to gather some warmth, next to Chuck. 

Her body shook as she blew into her hands, trying to gain back feeling on her fingertips when Charles looked at her and grabbed her hands without a word, covering them with his calloused fingers, scooting closer to her. 

She was slightly taken aback. 

Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, he communicated more with his eyes and small expressions. He politely smiled at her as he rubbed his hands against her. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling her chin deeper into her scarf that was tucked into her jumpsuit. 

Chuck just looked at her and kept rubbing their hands together. She noticed her blue eyes looking bright from the full moon shining down the forest. 

“I always hated the winter time, back in the states… and now more,” Chuck said, breaking the silence between them. 

“I know, I prefer to be burning under the sun rather than freezing my butt off.” 

“Cold beers,” he added.

“The beach.”

“Dipping into a river or the sea.”

Both exchanged small smiles. 

Chuck had always noticed Hannah, and stared silently at her many times, but barely exchanged a few words in the second year of their training, when she arrived in Toccoa. He knew she was Shifty’s friend, and someone who Winters relied on and trusted from what Powers had said to help her get into the Paratroopers. 

And she had proved herself useful, not only as a doctor, but as a sharpshooter, taking down snipers that others didn’t notice at first. She used to compete with Shifty on how many Krauts took down each.

Hannah always knew who he was, she remembered every and each name of the company, by nicknames mostly. He definitely called for her attention; he was polite, shy, only mustered a few jokes here and there, not like Luz, who couldn’t speak without joking. 

But she was never as interested in him until he helped her find warmth in a shattering cold in Belgium. 

Hannah remembered that with a smile—their first and probably closest interaction. It only took snow, people dying around them and a whole war for it to happen.

Friday, she thought, Friday would be a good thing for me to approach his house if, luckily, he didn’t move out before. 

///

Anxiety. Lots of. 

Hannah wasn’t on call at the hospital on Friday. She and her best friend, scheduled everything.

Angelina made sure she couldn’t back out of looking for the former paratrooper. She had helped her pick an outfit, helped with her hair, the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, go, go! It’s barely past noon, it’s a beautiful day, maybe y’all can go for a walk,” angelina said, taking a sip from her lemonade. 

Hannah was barely talking, her hands shook, she felt her pits damp with sweat, with a tight knot in her stomach. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay… I’m going, whatever, what could go wrong, what the fuck, he could only think I’m a fucking stalker, whatever right? Fuck—.”

“Oh my god, get out, I’ll take care of Trigger, let him have a stroll, and if by any chance you spend the night there—” she said, with a wink— “call me so I’ll stay and give Trigger his morning walkies,” Angelina commanded as she pushed Hannah through the door. 

“Good luck, honey!” She yelled as Hannah dragged her feet through the hot cement under the July sun. 

Every little thing that could go wrong played in her mind as she walked. Grant lived roughly twenty blocks away from her but she still wanted to walk there, to make it as slow as possible. 

Hannah checked the address in the small, torn piece of paper she had it written on and looked for 1612 for a bit, until she finally saw it.

It was a beautiful, tall white house, with a dark grey roof, a small porch with a couple of rocking chairs. A lot of small pots with flowers and different plants covered most of the front of the porch, which made Hannah think that there was clearly a woman living there. 

That made fear struck her again.

He’s probably married, there are rocking chairs and plants… none of the men of the paratroopers cared about fucking plants, why would Charles be any different? 

Fuck it.

Hannah shook her head, her curls moving along, stomped the ground after pondering for a couple of minutes, away from the house and took a few deep breaths before she walked up the three steps before the door and, with a shaky breath, knocked three times and took a step back, giving the door her back. 

She could sense her muscles completely tense, everywhere, arms, legs, stomach, and wondered why the hell she never got her anxiety completely treated like her PTSD from the war. 

What if a woman opened the door? I’d pretend I got the wrong house and run for the fucking hills. 

“Yes?” a deep voice said from behind her. 

Hannah could’ve swore her heart stopped for a split second.

She turned in her heel with the riddled feeling in her stomach when she met those bright blue eyes and the permanently tanned skin of Sergeant of Second Platoon, Charles Grant. 

His usual disheveled look was intact, she noticed, the droopy eyes and the resting annoyed face that was his trademark was still there, but it did change in a moment when he realized quickly who she was. His eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly. 

“Hannah? Hannah Davis?!” he exclaimed, opening the door wider, taking a step forward shyly. 

Hannah swore her heart was thumping against her chest like a hammer, and was actually afraid Chuck would notice it. But all he did was try to find the words, stuttering slightly as he took a look at her.

“Hey, Chuck,” she said, trying to find her voice back from somewhere in her throat. 

Charles let a single chuckle out of his mouth before, sort of awkwardly, pulled her for a hug, crossing his left arm around her torso and the other one, around the shoulders.

Hannah was a hundred percent sure her heart could arrest at any moment and die right there. The man was hugging her. And she was hugging him back, the same way, when his perfume surrounded her and she closed her eyes for a moment, lingering her head above his shoulder, every single feeling she had ever felt for him rushing back into her stomach, untying the knot slightly, filling it with butterflies. 

“What a surprise! Come on in,” he said, as they parted, moving aside so she could walk inside first. 

Clean, super clean. The fact that the house was so clean yelled wife! in Hannah’s face. But she shook the thoughts aside, trying to focus on walking and trying not to bump into anything and make a mess of herself in front of Chuck. 

“You like it? I’ve been trying to decorate myself but… I don’t know, looks shitty to me still,” he added, standing next to her as she looked at old signs of tobacco brands, and a couple of paintings up white walls, complemented with an olive couch with three seats, a coffee table and a TV in front. 

And books, everywhere. Different sized, colored, some put in a small library in the corner, near the couch. Some were sprawled over on the coffee table and one on the couch, open and faced down. 

She took the books as the cue to find out and get it over with. 

“You and—and your wife must read a lot,” she said, sniggering internally as she awaited for an answer. 

Chuck let out a hearty chuckle, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed at her. 

“Uh, I’m not married,” he said, forming a thin-lipped, awkward smile on his lips. Hannah felt how her shoulders relaxed at the information.

“Oh—sorry, it’s just… It looks very homey, and you know, women do that work mostly,” she said, trying to sound innocent. 

“I learned a bit from my mom, and I found out that I really enjoy gardening and plants in general, that’s why there’s that many on the outside porch. Luz told me I was becoming a woman, I said, ‘what’s wrong with being a woman’?” Chuck said, scratching the back of his neck. 

“He fought side by side with one, and he still says that crap?” Hannah asked, remembering George Luz, the clown of the company. “Fuck him, I like how it looks, it’s homey and… looks warm, you know?”

Chuck nodded his head proudly, trying to shoot down a smile that tried to creep up, slightly blushing. 

“Listen, I was roasting some chicken, are you hungry? I have beers, too,” he said, pulling her by her wrist softly. This touch sent electricity up Hannah’s arm as she nodded silently, following him. 

She was sort of surprised by his cheerfulness. He was a very lowkey man, never spoke too loud, unless he wanted to mock one of his peers with Luz or Guarnere. He fumbled around the kitchen for a bit, before going through the back door to the backyard, where he had a barbecue against the wall.

And she could see him work, cutting up the chicken while it was still roasting, and noticed how he hadn’t put up any weight since coming back from the war, or losing any from the anxiety and PTSD. He had kept in form, his arms still big, as his shoulders, the black sleeves of the shirt sticking tight against them. 

Jesus, stop that! 

Lost in her thoughts, looking around the kitchen, she didn’t notice Chuck was back with two small sandwiches in hand, leaving them on a couple of plates as he quickly moved to grab two Crystals. 

“My brother taught me this amazing sauce, and it’s like pulled pork, but pulled chicken,” he explained, almost proudly of his handiwork. Hannah smiled and took a bite on it. 

Instantly, she had to suppress a moan that was about to fall out of her full mouth, as she widened her eyes at him. He smiled as he chewed and nodded his head like saying I know, right? 

After downing her bite with a bit of beer, Hannah finally breathed out to compliment his food, making Chuck blush again. 

“So, uh… what brings you here? Did you need anything?” Chuck asked, taking a sip of his beer again. 

I wanted to confess that I had feelings for you since you helped me warm up in a foxhole in Bagstone and you saved my ass when I got shot and you dragged me into a jeep to be taken away for a bit to heal, and I always wanted to kiss you for that but I’m such a fucking wuss, I never even dared to flirt. 

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t come to ask any favors, no,” she replied, chuckling nervously, “I—I’m gonna be honest with you; when we came back from Europe, I knew you had to do some recovery from the shot you took, that would need rehabilitation and… I was dealing with so much I couldn’t stay and I felt like shit for a long while for that—Shit, this sounds like I’m doing this to sleep better at night but no, I just want to say: I’m sorry, I should’ve been there like you were when I lost my ear to a kraut bullet, Chuck, I’m really sorry, and I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing…” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, Hannah knew that, but she still felt like what she needed to actually say was heavy in her chest. 

Chuck smiled, and turned his head slightly, pulling his hair up a bit. 

“The scar goes all the way to the back of my head, I—I should’ve died by the extent of my wound, but, it was mostly sup—superficial. My left arm is partially paralyzed,” he explained, lifting both arms at the same time but the left one was left behind as the right kept going up. “And sometimes it’s hard to s—” he closed his eyes as he struggled to say the word, his tongue frozen in the roof of his mouth for a couple of seconds— “speak, like, right now.” 

Hannah looked sorry, like a dog with a tail between its hind legs, feeling ashamed. 

“Don’t feel bad, I had my family and some of the men to help me, and very good doctors too, really, it’s not like you had to take care of me, you know,” Chuck added, grinning warmly at her. “George, Doc Roe and Speirs came almost daily to help, I was set; speaking of wounds, how’s the ear?”

Hannah moved her hair away to show him the scarred and dusty pink skin that reattached to her head after it got blown off in the Battle of the Bulge. 

Bullets and mortars were falling down the territory Easy Company covered. As much as anyone avoids talking about fear, they were all terrorized; the lack of winter gear, clothes, ammo, and food kept them all weak.

Hannah and Chuck were shooting non-stop, both with shaky breaths as they were still covered under a wool blanket, where only the gun and their eyes could be seen. 

“Hannah! Hannah, go help Shifty!” she heard Lip call her as he ran past. She sighed, not wanting to be any closer to the flying gunshots that were showering horizontally on them. 

“Go, it’s okay, go!” Chuck exclaimed, looking at her swiftly as he kept shooting. 

Hannah groaned in annoyance but still climbed up the hole. 

Chuck watched at her go, though her walk got cut short. She froze in her place and he knew something was wrong, and in a split second, she was on the cold ground, yelling her lungs out.

“Shit, shit, shit, hold on, Hannah! Medic!! Medic!!” he yelled as he let his rifle in the hole, crawling to check on the brunette. 

As soon as he turned her body around, his face grimaced in shock. She had blood flowing from her side into her cheek, eyes and mouth, as she gasped for a breath, steam coming from her mouth from the sheering cold. 

He moved her hair slowly, uncovering what was left of her ear, hanging from skin threads, almost completely shredded from her skull. It was an awful view, and the crimson liquid kept flowing and flowing. 

“What is it? Let me see, Grant, move!” Eugene Roe exclaimed, pushing the other soldier aside, checking the wound thoroughly. Hannah had stopped yelling, shock had settled in her body, covering her from the pain. 

“It’s superficial, but you will need someone to cut off the rest. Help me get her to the jeep, Grant,” he said after covering the hole with sulfate and a white bandage that went across her face. 

“Hannah, you’re going to be just fine, stay with us, come on!” Eugene yelled as Chuck lifted her from her back and legs, her face falling into his shoulder, bleeding on his jacket. 

Chuck glanced at her every few moments as he ran to where her ride was stationed, she looked paler by the second that passed, her eyes were closing and he had to keep calling at her to stay awake.

“Hannah, come on, come on, stay with me, stay with me!”

When she was finally strapped down the bed on the front of the sheet, he held her hand for a second before she was pulled away, disappearing into the woods as he had to ran back to his foxhole and keep defending their territory. 

But he kept wondering and wondering about her, until she came back two days after. 

“You came back almost good as new, ear-less, stitched up,” Chuck said, reminiscing.

“And I had to tolerate thousands of ear related jokes for weeks, and got called ‘Earnnah’ too” Hannah said, making them both laugh.

“Fucking Luz and his nicknames,” Charles said, shrugging.

“Anyways, I still don’t have an ear, but the flu I was going through had clogged my eardrum and saved me from being deaf on one side, right?” Hannah added, lifting her beer bottle to cheer for that.

“To the flu, baby!” he said and both drank.

A couple of hours went by and both Chuck and Hannah were already feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence. They laughed about some anecdotes, and updated on their current lifestyles.

“So, a tobacco store?” Hannah said, standing under the sun in the backyard, enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon, much more relaxed. 

“Yeah, it was my post war dream, and I finally gathered what I needed to open it, it’s in downtown, 5th ave and Charleston. It’s cosy, small, but good enough to sell small things,” Chuck explained, clearly proud of his achievement. “You should come by sometime”. 

“I would, but I quit smoking a few weeks ago,” Hannah replied and Chuck looked surprised. 

“Really?” he asked, propping himself against a column he had set to sustain a small roof he had put up in his yard. 

“Yeah, but I’ll probably hit withdrawal soon and I’ll go back to square one quickly,” she replied, mocking herself and her power of will, making Chuck laugh.

“You still sing?” Chuck asked, and she knew exactly why he asked. “I still remember when we found that piano in the Eagle’s Nest, and you sang a few songs to us,” he said and a very small grin creeped up his lips, looking down at his hands. 

That was one of Hannah’s proudest moments. 

“I do remember that, and I still sing, yeah.”

The war had lightened up, somehow. 

Easy Company was on the works to clear the way into the old Nazi Town of Kehlsteinhaus, where they knew, at the top of the mountain, resides the crown jewel of the Nazi Party. A very glamorous house made only for Hitler and his closests friends. 

Winters dictated for the Easy Company to head straight to the Eagle’s Nest, after raiding the town and finding a place to settle for a bit. 

Hannah heard Speirs yelling the orders and they didn’t even think for a second before they started running up the mountain road towards the House. She ran next to Chuck, Popeye and Malarkey. 

They entered the premises slowly, looking around for Krauts, their guns up in arms. And all of them were surprised by the size of the place from the inside. 

It had grey walls, with bay windows every few meters, the sun shining through, illuminating the whole place. There were a few tables with a few chairs each, some silver plates and vases scattered around the living room, a fireplace, and on the far end, a grand, black and shiny piano. 

Hannah was immediately drawn to it, forgetting about the men popping bottles of champagne they found lying around, remembering instantly the songs her grandfather had once taught her when she was younger. 

The boys weren’t paying attention until they heard the first few notes Hannah pressed on. 

“Davis, you can play?” Spiers asked her as they got closer. 

I waited till I saw the sun, don’t know why I didn’t come

Hannah started singing, as a way to reply Speirs. 

Chuck was certainly taken aback by her singing voice, she had never mentioned before she could do that, that she had even learned or anything she did apart from training for the paratroopers and hang with Shifty. 

When I saw the break of day

I wished that I could fly away

Instead of kneeling in the sand

Catching teardrops in my hand

Her fingers seemed to be dancing around the keys like she had been doing that for a lifetime, as her voice shone through the notes she played. There was a sudden peace brought by the song, which no one could remember having heard before that moment. 

Chuck sensed his body relaxing, as he looked at the brunette who met his eyes not too long after.

My heart is drenched in wine

But you'll be on my mind

Forever

For a fleeting moment, Chuck felt no one was there but him and Hannah, as she kept singing, his breath catching in his chest, leaving him breathless. He knew he had been looking at Hannah with different eyes for a while, but he never actually realized it completely until that moment. 

Something has to make you run

I don't know why I didn't come

I feel as empty as a drum

I don't know why I didn't come

I don't know why I didn't come

“From then on, you guys would ask me to sing every time we found a piano laying somewhere in the abandoned cottages,” Hannah remembered, smiling at the memory. 

“Well, you do have a beautiful voice that puts everyone at ease, you know,” he complimented and Hannah could feel how her pulse accelerated at his compliment, cursing herself internally for being so weak for her former NCO. 

“It's mid-afternoon, care for a tea?” Charles asked, when he noticed her blushing, not answering his compliment, knowing he had hit somewhere inside her with it. 

“I can make a quick cake with anything you have in your kitchen, if you want to…” Hannah said, almost rushedly, trying to cover her tracks. Yeah, that doesn’t sound weird at all, Hannah, you fucking wuss, offering to bake a cake after a couple of hours chatting and trying to cover your stupid feelings, sure, yeah. 

“Kitchen’s all yours,” Chuck said with a grin, looking for his kettle to boil water while Hannah looked for her ingredients for a classic vanilla cake. 

As Hannah whisked the ingredients, Chuck served two mugs with boiling tea, placing one next to her as he watched her focused in his kitchen. 

“I swear, most men of the company don’t have all this stuff laying in their kitchen,” she said, still looking down at the mix.

“I’m not most men,” Chuck replied and both chuckled at his comment. “Oh, look here,” he said suddenly, making Hannah turn around.

A black cat with a small bell in his neck walked in, stretching its legs, and walked up to Chuck, placing its front paws in the dirty blonde legs. 

“This is Roe, I got him a few months ago, he walked in with a broken hind leg and never left this house,” Chuck explained, taking the cat into his arms, which made him start purring loudly. Hannah proceeded to pet him, sliding her fingertips slowly in the soft fur of the head. 

“He’s so handsome!” 

“Thank you,” replied Charles, earning a small slap in his arm by Hannah, who chuckled as she kept petting the kitty. 

“You saying you took care of this kitty reminded me of that nun who changed my bandages in Foye, in that church, remember that? She came straight to me, wondering how a woman is in the Forces, and silently, pulled my face and cleaned me up,” Hannah said, remembering the face of the woman in the black typical suit of a nun. 

“She didn’t treat anyone but you, which was either great or very selfish of her,” Chuck said, jokingly.

“She was in a convent, they take care of women mostly, and I am one, so…” she trailed off, wanting to slap the grin out of his face as she felt her heart melting to the view of Chuck, holding a cat between his arms like a child. My uterus is flipping about. “It’s not like no one took care of you boys.” 

“What are you talking about?” Chuck wondered. 

“Holland. All those women, and food, and drinks, and praising,” Hannah said as she put the mix in the oven. She could hear Charles laughing at her comments.

 “I wasn’t doing anything there, I did accept food though.” 

“Oh, Chuck, come on, I saw you with that blonde that was taller than you, kissing you non-stop,” Hannah exclaimed, way too quickly for her comfort, and turned around, pretending to check on the oven temperature; Could you be any more obvious, Hannah, dear?

“You sound jealous,” Chuck replied, with a smirk and furrowed eyebrows.

“I—okay, yes, I was; everyone was treating you all like goddamn heroes and whatnot, while I got questionable looks and fingers pointing at me for being a woman in a uniform… Hell, they must have thought I was the squad’s whore or something,” she defended herself, trying to not blow her cover that easy in front of his intense eyes looking at her from a few meters. 

Chuck felt bad for a moment. He knew she was proud of being the first woman fighting alongside men in a war, knowing she had earned the respect of many, many people, but there was still a long way to go to be accepted by the population in general. 

“Yeah, I wanted someone to kiss me too and give me drinks, I deserved that too, I didn’t have any physical contact with anyone as much as y’all in that time,” Hannah kept going, the anxiousness to cover herself up from showing feelings almost drowning her. 

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten a kiss if you just asked,” replied Chuck, taking a sip from his tea while still holding Roe. “I would have if you asked me.”

Did my heart just stop? Did it just… really stop? Quick, don’t linger in silence too much!

“You’ve always been such a gentleman, Grant, but that was impossible. First, we were in the Forces together and that was very forbidden. Second, I couldn’t ask people for that, that’s just sad and I didn’t look like any of the women there, my hair wasn’t done, I was wearing our uniform and probably didn’t smell the best there,” Hannah clarified, trying to not sound too rushed again. 

“Okay, yeah, partially true, but you don’t need to be all fixed up to be pretty, though.”

He knows and now he wants to play soccer with my fucking heart. Goodness, I hope he doesn’t know.

“To be honest, it’s not like I came back to the states and started dating and whatnot… I did adopt a dog, his name is Trigger, like the one Tab had back in the day,” Hannah said, trying to clear herself. “Oh, and Tab asked me out like a year ago,” she suddenly remembered. 

“Floyd?! R—really?” Chuck asked, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah, he showed up once, with flowers and everything. It was so sweet but Tab is like my little brother, so I let him down slowly and luckily, he accepted it and we’re still friends,” she explained, remembering how disappointed he looked for a second before she explained herself to him and he took it with humour and saved their friendship from awkwardness. 

All the while, Chuck laughed heartily. 

“What? Oh, don’t laugh at him! He’s so sweet, he was always nice with me, even when most doubted the presence of a woman at war, come on,” Hannah defended Talbert, throwing a paper towel ball straight to his face. 

“Hey! No need to get violent!” Chuck retaliated, throwing it back at her. “I can’t believe little ol’ Tab asked you out,” he added, chuckling. 

“You’re all always making fun of people who ask me out or flirt with me,” Hannah added, a sneer creeping up her lips. “Remember that one British soldier?” 

The Company had saved a hundred and forty brit soldiers, without any casualties. Everyone walked back to camp cheerfully but in silence until they entered the barn. 

Hannah didn’t feel as cheerful as the rest. She had been carrying a small infection under her tongue for a few days and cramps were attacking her every now and again, which she didn’t share with anyone trying to avoid some sexist comment about the nature of women. 

Booze was being passed around the brits and the company as everyone cheered and applauded for their exceptional work. Hannah did enjoy seeing all the grins and wide smiles spread around, while she stood in the side, leaning against a thin wooden column, rubbing her back to ease the pain. 

“Moose Heyliger and the American 101st have done the Red Devils a great service, making it possible for us to return and fight the enemy another day,” the captain of the British soldiers exclaimed to the crowd of paratroopers and the Red Devils. “To Easy Company, victory, and Currahee!”

Everyone cheered, drinking profusely, laughing and all around happy, until the same captain interrupted them for a second.

“Oh, and let us not forget to cheer for one more thing: the first woman in the Forces who was part of this mission, Miss…” 

Hannah wasn’t paying attention, she was completely zoned out on the side, until she heard her name being called a few times. She looked up to the Captain, who had his drink up and looking at her.

“Oh—Oh, Hannah, Hannah Davis!” she replied, a little startled. 

“To Hannah Davis!” The cheers erupted once again, but everyone was now looking at Hannah, who blushed furiously at the attention she was receiving. She just gave them all a tight lipped smile, her eyes drifting from one side to another. 

“So, congratulations are in order, ma’am.” A thick British accent interrupted Hannah’s thoughts a while after she had been cheered on. She turned around to find a tall man with a buzz cut, his red beret and a pointy nose. And a very warm smile. 

“Thank you, private…?”

“Joe Seaward, and it’s Sergeant now,” he clarified, taking his beret off as he took a drink. “How is the Force treating you? Good, I hope?”

“Very good, sir, they feel like family already. At first it was weird for them, but I was vouched for by the Battalion chief, and one of the men, who is an old friend from his hometown,” she replied, feeling slightly intimidated by the brit. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable. And hometown! Where would that be, if I may ask?” 

“Atlanta, Georgia. Can I ask you where are you from?” she asked, looking up at him. Hannah could feel the eyes of Easy on them, but she didn’t dare to look back at them. 

“Birmingham, born and raised,” Joe replied, looking proud. “Uh, anyone expecting you back home?” he suddenly asked, and Hannah understood what he was referring to. 

“No, apart from family, no one special,” she replied, and just got interrupted by another voice yelling at them.

“Sergeant Seaward! We’re leaving, come on!” Joe looked annoyed all of a sudden. 

“Well, ma’am, if this isn’t too forward, when this war is over, and luckily, we’re both still alive and well, why don’t you stay in England for a while and… maybe we can go to dinner together?” He said, rushing as he took a few steps back. 

Hannah thought for a second and, feeling like she had nothing to lose and after not being flirted by anyone in two years, she replied “Sure, Sergeant, if we both survive…”. 

Joe smirked deeply and quickly found a paper and a battered small pencil, scribbling in it and placed it in her hands, before kissing the back of it. 

“You’ll find me with that. Take care, Hannah Davis! Cheerio!” 

Hannah felt like a child meeting her first crush, blushing, with a dumb smile in her face, until she heard the sniggering paratroopers behind her. 

“What?” she asked, already looking annoyed at them as she turned to find them in a half circle around her.

“What was that ‘bout, Davis?” Bull asked with one lifted eyebrow. 

“Nothing–”

“Not nothing, that brit was flirting with you!” Liebgott exclaimed, his lip curled as his eyes darted between the door of the barn and her. 

“The fuck is the problem with that?” Hannah asked.

“No fraternization with soldiers in the Forces,” Chuck added, looking down at his hands. 

“Oh, fuck all of you. It’s the first time someone comes and tells me I’m pretty in two years, when y’all had women throwing themselves at you back at Eindhoven!” Hannah defended herself, shutting them all up. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do something about it, I might be dead tomorrow anyways”. 

“He looks stupid and he’s a brit, we’re all a better catch than him!” Martin added, inflating his chest. 

“The only decent man here is Doc Roe, and you all know that for a fact. I’m going to sleep for a bit, goodnight” she said, walking away from them, breaking the half circle without looking back. 

“I still have that small, battered piece of paper with me, but I never went to see him,” Hannah added, smirking at the thought. “I should’ve stayed in England and find him, honestly”. 

Chuck frowned, “why? Was he really that interesting?”. 

“He was sweet, he had a very attractive accent and hell, how many men do you know that say ‘cheerio!’ When saying goodbye?” Hannah defended Sergeant Seaward.

“Oh, stop talking talking about him already” Chuck said, dismissing her comments with a frown.

“Who’s jealous now, huh?” Hannah joked, pushing him slightly. Chuck just laughed bitterly.

///

Chuck showed her around the house, apologizing for forgetting to do a tour when she first came in.

He showed him some old pictures he had from high school that his mom had taken of him, some of his own family, and even a photo from a high school girlfriend he still had. Charles told him they were still in contact because her family was close to his, until he went to the war and she moved out of the usual address. 

“It’s like the time I was away, fighting, home became a black hole in my memory, like…It couldn’t possibly exist at the same time I was away.” 

Hannah enjoyed learning more from his past, and suddenly wondered if he had ever known what happened and how Easy reacted when they found out he had gotten shot. 

Charles was looking down at a picture when she popped the question. 

“Chuck, did you uh—did anyone ever tell you what happened with Easy when you… When that replacement shot you?” 

He suddenly took a seat on the couch, looking up at her. There was something on his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, but it was between fear and curiosity; his fingers went to linger over his scar absentmindedly. 

“No, I—the guys never told me anything, and I didn’t dare to ask, honestly.” 

“Do you, uh… Do you want to know?” Hannah asked. Chuck nodded, his lips seeming sewn shut. She took a seat next to him, the air suddenly completely filled with tension. 

“Well, you had patrol and we were relaxing in the house, playing cards, some asleep, most smoking and chatting about the end of the war. Also about the points, but, that’s not important.”

“Then, the door of the living room burst open with a pale, very pale and shook Tab. ‘Grant got shot in the head’ was the first thing he muttered. You know, there wasn’t any music around us, but it seemed like it had stopped. The relaxing atmosphere was cut off like when the lights go out with a switch.” Chuck was staring at her, his attention fully on her. 

“But we didn’t have that much time to like… process. Floyd had received orders to find the shooter, and we practically went around the whole town and the ones nearby looking for him. We had the order to bring him alive but neither wanted to lose the chance to put a bullet in him. We were organized in groups, and we divided in three or four people each.”

“We ended up finding him still in Zell Am See. Malarkey found him with Bull and Lieb, they found him trying—” She took a pause, her stomach turning slightly at the memory— “trying to rape an Austrian girl. She was saved, thankfully, and he was brought back to the house where he took the beating of his lifetime”

By that point, Chuck jaw was opened, but his eyes seemed calmer, somehow.

“Did you beat him too?” he asked. Hannah suddenly broke eye contact, looking down at her fingernails fidgeting together.

“Yes, but I only punched him, the rest did the real beating… I was so angry when I found out he was in the house, I burst through the door and went straight with my knuckles to his jaw. I had my hand bruised for weeks. You were away at that point, Speirs and Roe had found a Kraut brain surgeon and got him to work in you as soon as they could. But we didn’t know if you were alive or not. After the rest took their turn with the replacement, Speirs had come back, saying the surgeon confirmed you were going to be okay; then they dragged the son of a bitch over to the MP’s.”

Hannah felt ashamed, her body seemed to be burning when the memories of that moment revived in her.

“I was so scared you were gonna die, Chuck… I wasn’t there when Speirs confirmed you were going to be okay, and I just—I lost it at that moment,” she added, a knot forming in her throat. “Lieb found me, while I was sitting in a room upstairs, on a bed, in the dark, cursing and crying. It wasn’t only you that made me cry, but… I cared about you, you know. You were my friend, we went through the worst together and I thought I had lost y—,” Hannah’s voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

“Hey, hey, Hannah, I’m here, aren’t I?” Chuck said, scooting closer, placing a hand on her knee and another rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that…”

At that, Hannah snorted while she teared up.

“What are you apologizing for? For getting shot? Jesus, Charles, you didn’t ask for it, did you?” she joked through the tears and broken voice, making both laugh cynically. Hannah lifted her head and looked at him, and noticed how his eyes were watery. He sniffed as he tried to recompose himself, his hands never leaving the brunette.

“No, I know, but… I’m okay, you s—see? I just speak like I’m dumb or something now,” he joked. 

Suddenly, something took over Hannah and she hugged him, with her arms surrounding his shoulders completely. Chuck was taken aback at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and stayed there for a moment, neither muttered a word, only sniffs and breathing could be heard. 

Hannah laughs, then smiles down at the picture of a younger Chuck. Some things change, and some things stay the same forever. Chuck is one of those things that never changes.

After a while, after a hug that helped both recompose and even sort of heal wounds that can’t be seen, they went back to rummage through old photos. 

“Oh, look at this one,” Chuck said, pulling a picture from his teenage years, where he was in just his underwear, surrounded by kids holding different pieces of clothing cheerfully “that was in the middle of summer, we were trying to fight the heat with water balloons and I got so soaked, my brother and my friends convinced me to take them off so they could dry. Me, being stupid and young, did so and they stole them and ran away.” 

Hannah laughed loudly, looking at Charles with apologetic eyes.

“How could you be so naive?” She asked, between laughs. 

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you got your clothes stolen once, in Haguenau! And you know it sucks, doesn’t it?” Chuck replied, jabbing his index on Hannah’s arm. 

Hannah had survived Bastogne, with the scarring of her life and one less ear. Everyone was changed, they had lost many men there, including Toye and Guarnere, Muck and Penkala, and lost Buck to shellshock. 

These days passed with nothing much to do but waiting for orders, some training, and finally, after the snow had passed, winter clothes. 

Second Platoon was stationed in a tall, two-story house, with many rooms, filled with beds and some tables. It was battered, most wallpapers looked torn, and the smell of humidity and gunpowder filling everyone’s nostrils.

On a cold morning, Hannah came back to the second floor, where Malarkey was introducing the new Lieutenant Jones to the men.

“Sir?” her voice, smaller than ever, turned everyone around. Some had to take a second look to be sure what they were looking at. 

“What happened to you?!” Don exclaimed, his jaw dropped. 

Hannah was shirtless. She was holding herself trying to keep the warmth of her body, with only a bra, pants and boots on. She looked red in the face, from the shame. Hannah could sense the eyes on her body, taking notice of every single scar she was sporting, and the bandage that was covering one on the side of her hip. 

“I was changing bandages, I turned for a second to get the sulfate and I heard someone running and laughing. I thought there were just some men playing around but they had taken my clothes, sir…” she explained. Everyone could hear the anger in her voice, her jaw clenching tight. 

“Jesus fuck,” Malarkey muttered, while Chuck proceeded to pull the sweater he used under his jacket and quickly helped Hannah put it on. “Lieb, MccLung, Jackson, go find the fuckers who did this, report to Speirs”. 

“I’m sorry, Malark, I—I didn’t want to make any trouble, really, I—,”

“No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, okay? Here, it probably smells but it’s better than nothing, I’ll have someone find some clothes if they don’t find yours,” Malarkey said, giving her his scarf, and went back to speak with Lt. Jones, who only nodded to her as a salute. 

“Come on, we made some coffee,” said Chuck, pulling her to where the kettle was in a corner. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah,” was all she said, hiding herself in her copper mug, drinking the awful coffee they have been given. Then Chuck did something that she wasn’t expecting, but calmed her nerves quite quickly: his palm met the top of her head, and ran down her hair slowly. 

Hannah had seen the men do that to each other, when they had panic attacks or after the death of a fellow soldier, they would hold their heads or run their fingers through their hair. It seemed like a paternal way to hold them close and not let them fall into the abyss of desperation war brings in people. 

And now she felt it herself. Chuck’s fingers brought peace into her body, into her mind. She closed her eyes he kept going, enjoying that as well as the steam from the coffee meeting her cold skin. 

///

Not too long after, and from a window, Hannah and Chuck saw MccLung and Lieb dragging two soldiers from their jackets to Speirs and Winters. Joe talked furiously, clearly explaining what the two men did. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, knowing Speirs would have them doing the worst jobs for the Platoon. 

Her happiness didn’t last long, though. After getting new clothes, returning Chuck’s sweater, she found out, alongside the rest, that they had a patrol to get to at one past midnight. 

Everyone dreaded it, mostly because Second Platoon had lost the most people since Bastogne, and they still wanted them to do a senseless mission. They were ordered to cross the river into German territory and take prisoners to get intel. 

They still had hours to kill before heading to enemy territory, so Hannah decided to find some place to nap, after fixing and cleaning her guns and getting more ammo. 

She wandered around Second Platoon’s house until she found a room on the second floor. She opened the door, walking inside, and instantly found a sleeping body on top of the bed. 

“What? What?!” it said startled and looked up. Hannah didn’t notice at first but as soon as some light shone through the bullet holes on the wooden panels in the window, she saw Grant’s face. 

“Oh, sorry Chuck, I was looking for some place to sleep, I’ll leave you to—,”

“No, no, it’s fine… we can share,” he said from the dark, she could hear his hand patting the bed. 

Hannah thought for a second. She was exhausted, her body was still cold and there probably wasn’t a better bed in the whole house to nap in. 

So, she closed the door behind her and left her jacket and rifle on the floor, and climbed under the wool blanket. 

Under it, she was met instantly with Chuck’s warmth, her side wasn’t cold, as she expected it to be. There was calm, so much calm it was a bit unsettling for Hannah; last time she felt it, mortars fell from the sky and took her friends with the blast. 

But there was something about the gentleness of Chuck’s breathing that helped her, which she couldn’t explain, but silently thanked him for it. 

A few minutes passed when Hannah turned to her side, facing Chuck, who was already positioned on his side. She was unable to fall fully asleep, which was normal when someone tries to relax during a war. 

Hannah just stayed there in silence, eyes closed, her hand dropped on the mattress near her face, when she felt Chuck’s hand a few inches from hers. 

For a moment, she wanted to grab it. 

Hannah had noticed for a while that she was closer with Chuck than with the rest of the men. It was an odd friendship; it’s not like they talked for hours and hours on end but mostly in silence or with hushed, short conversations. But when she was with him, she didn’t feel as much fear as with the rest or alone in a foxhole. 

But he had always been there for her, like she was for him. Through every loss, through every problem. There was an implicit deep trust between them that neither acknowledged with words, but with simple actions. 

And to her, he was certainly an attractive man; with dirty blonde hair, an inviting smile, always polite and shy. And Hannah knew she had felt sometimes a bit of a butterfly in her stomach when he smiled at her. 

Suddenly, her thoughts were hushed when she felt his fingers wrap around hers. 

Hannah didn’t open her eyes, afraid they would show how much speed her blood pressure gained in a split second. But she did reciprocate, after a moment, moving her hand so his fingers intertwined with hers. 

Neither moved, neither spoke nor opened their eyes. And finally, both fell asleep until Liebgott woke them up a couple of hours later.

He opened the door loudly, letting in some light. Both Hannah and Chuck sat up quickly, startled and disheveled, looking at Joe like he was crazy. 

Joe looked at both with a deep, playful smirk before saying, “We have the meeting at CP in ten minutes, let’s go, come on.”

Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice that Hannah and Chuck were still holding hands under the sheet; but when they caught it, as Lieb left, they quickly unwrapped them and rushed to get their things, without saying another word to each other.

///

Night came around nicely. 

Both Hannah and Chuck were enjoying their time. Hannah had clearly relaxed, mostly after they had talked about what happened to the NCO, feeling like she had let go of a heavy weight she carried on her shoulders. 

Charles offered for her to stay for dinner when the brunette said she still had to walk her dog, even though she knew Angelina had probably done that already. He insisted, saying the leftovers taste even better reheated on the grill. 

Hannah laughed and agreed to stay, as long as she could help with it. Her day has been better than expected, way better. But she still had that small pebble in her shoe about her feelings towards Chuck. A part of her yelled that she should come clean to him, and be done with it, no matter the result. The other part also yelled that his friendship was more valuable than risking it for something more.

But the tiny voice in her head still insisted with No, no! He doesn’t feel that way. He hasn’t flirted with you, or showed some clear sign of attraction, Hannah! Have dinner and pretend it’s all good. 

“Hey, can I ask you something? This might sound a bit weird,” Hannah said, with a sneaky smile while Chuck revamped the grill. The former NCO just nodded in response. “Why aren’t you married?” 

Chuck snorted, looking surprised and slightly offended. “Aren’t you the one that used to complain that women are always pressured to get married, and maybe they shouldn’t if they don't want to?” He asked, almost complaining. 

Hannah laughed and put her hands up in her defense.

“I don’t mean it like that, Charles Grant! I just… I’m surprised a man like you, who does all this, isn’t at least dating someone,” she clarified. 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t dating someone,” he replied, without looking at her.

There it is! So, that’s what it's like to get your heart punched, huh? 

“Oh, yeah, I mean—Of course, sorry–,” Hannah added, suddenly stumbling upon her words as she felt her hands shake slightly. 

Chuck snorted again, this time a hearty laugh escaping his lips. 

“I’m not Hannah, I’m not seeing anybody at the moment,” he added, smiling as he moved the charcoal around the grill. 

Hannah had a rush of anger suddenly, wanting to throw something at him and yell you fucking asshole, I’m in love with you, do not do that to me!!!

But she held herself in, looking rather unphased, and just nodded disapprovingly. 

“I, well… I haven’t met the right woman, you know? I’ve seen some people, yeah. Babe set me up once with this redhead who could’ve been Malarkey’s sister for all I knew and it was going good at first but… Fuck, I was so bored!” he said, showing the annoyance in his face at the memory. “She was nice and all, but she was just… so fucking boring. She talked about her hair and stuff she does with her lady friends and she hated when I told stories about the war.”

Now it was Hannah’s turn to laugh. “She hated it? Why?”. 

“Who the fuck knows, maybe it was too g—ory for her, or she didn’t want to hear that one of the men was being called ‘Gonorrhea’. Hell, she didn’t even want to hear how I got the scar in my head or rather, the explanation of my slurring when I speak and my lack of strength on my left side,” Chuck said and sounded rather offended. 

“Someone has to either appreciate your scar and the sequels, or get the fuck out of your way,” Hannah said, approaching him with a beer in hand. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for that, Chuck, I’m not ashamed of having one ear, honestly. I think it’s pretty nice. Who can say that is different when their bodies are complete and in perfect state?”. 

“It’s boring, isn’t it?” he added.

“You and me, Chuck, are different. And that’s good. Toye and Guarnere have one less leg each, they’re fucking awesome too.” 

Hannah’s heart leaped at the sight of Chuck looking suddenly proud of himself, and when he looked at her to clink their bottles, she could’ve sworn that, if she had the ovaries, she would’ve kissed him right there and then.

///

After dinner and a few more laughs, Hannah called it a night. 

Her heart felt slightly heavy for not having dared to confess what she was there to do in the first place. 

“Well, my dear Grant, I have to head home,” she said, as she put plates down the water in sink. 

“Already?” Chuck replied, looking surprised.

“It’s almost ten in the night!” she exclaimed, drying her hands on a towel that hung from the oven door handle. 

“Want me to call you a cab? Lieb is probably still around working with his.” 

“No, don’t worry, I’ll walk. It’s fine,” Hannah replied, and started walking towards the door with Chuck on tow. 

Both stood on the porch, looking around the calm neighborhood. Hannah was feeling so ashamed of herself, slapping herself mentally every second that passed. 

“Well, Hannah, this was a great surprise,” Chuck started, breaking her thoughts for a moment, “we should do this more often, maybe with the guys, sometime, before winter leaves us secluded in our homes.” 

“Of course, but let’s not wait two years this time,” she replied, with a smile creeping up her lips, looking at him. God, how can someone dare be this good looking?

Chuck proceeded to hug her like when he opened the door past noon, when she showed up at his doorstep. Hannah reciprocated, and drowned herself once again in his cologne, not wanting to let go or stop feeling his hands around her body.

“See ya, Davis,” Chuck said as she walked down the steps and she took one last look at him before heading home. 

You fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking, pathetic     w—

“Hannah! Wait!” 

Chuck’s voice startled her as she was reaching the crossroad, when she turned around to find him running towards her. 

Her heart raced, wondering why the hell was he yelling at her for. Maybe she had forgotten something. Yeah, that’s all, I might have forgotten my… keys? 

“Hannah, wait, I… I have to tell you something and this can’t wait…” Chuck started as soon as he caught up to her. “Listen, this might sound weird but… a while ago I—you appeared in a dream of mine. You were talking to me after I got shot and you were begging me to not forget you.”

“Hannah, I took it upon myself to find you but I was meeting only dead ends, the Army wouldn’t help me so I had to… fuck, I had to find Winters and ask him for your information. God, that was embarrassing, but you know Winters, he didn’t hesitate to help. I had your address and phone numbers for months, but I never had the guts to go knock on your door… I thought you might have forgotten me, but… I never forgot about you,”

“I never forgot how we shared a foxhole during our hardest time. I never forgot how we slept in that bed and held hands in the dark. I never forgot how you took care of me when I had that one panic attack in Bastogne, and everything else,”

“What I mean, Hannah, is… I love you. I can’t date other women because they’re not you, and all I want is you. So… please, don’t leave. Not now. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you showed up at my door, fuck, I thought I was dreaming or dead. You had found me and I—,”

Before Chuck could follow through with his speech, Hannah took him by the face and kissed him. 

It was bruising, it was desperate and filled with love. Chuck wrapped his arms around her body, bringing her impossibly close to his body as her fingers found his hair. 

The anticipation was their favorite feeling. They both sensed how long they waited for that to happen, so they sank deeper into it. 

It went on for a few minutes, the night time seemed to have stopped for both, like everything had disappeared except for them. 

After they parted, both panting, their foreheads connected, Hannah opened her eyes and found Chuck’s cheeks stained with tear trails and that explained the salty taste in his lips. That made her smile widely as she still held his hand between hers. 

“Can you—do you want to s–spend the night with me?” Chuck asked, opening his eyes finally. 

Hannah just smiled widely, pecking his lips as she pulled him by the wrist towards his house.

///

Making love to someone you have craved for years makes the hours longer.

Both Hannah and Chuck were sure of that while the latter moaned loudly as Hannah rode him; his hands were bruising against her hips as she moved, holding herself in his shoulders, kissing him every now and again. 

Hannah never thought she would see Chuck like this. With sweat rolling down his forehead, his lips swollen and his eyes squeezed shut; to see his naked torso and his chest heaving up and down, which was covered in different scars that only made him even better looking in her opinion.

The man was almost ethereal in the dim light of his bedroom.

She enjoyed every bit of him as much as she could, like that could’ve been a fleeting figment of her imagination that she had to hold tight between her fingers before it could slip away. 

But reality brought her back when she felt the pain of his fingers digging into her hips. Hannah didn’t mind one bit.

She just loved to see how overwhelmed with pleasure he was, how he propped himself into his elbows, wrapping a hand around her bottom to carry both into the bed frame so he could sit and find her lips with his as he rode into his climax. 

Of course, Chuck being the gentleman he was, caring, he helped Hannah ride into hers, enjoying how she cried out his name loudly like it was the best song he had ever heard. 

///

Chuck’s fingers ran down Hannah’s bare shoulders, enjoying the dampness. It was soft, it was warm and it also a tad bit freckled. His fingertips followed down her arm until they met her face, that laid upon the back of her hands as she laid in her stomach. 

 Her eyes were closed but she was still awake. Hannah was just soaking on everything that happened through the day, and now, through the night, as the clock ticked into two in the morning. 

Chuck sat parallel to her, and his fingertips went all the way back to walk down her shoulder blades, into the deep line of her spine, meeting a few moles spread out here and there, which sent very slight tickles to the brunette. 

“I kind of can’t believe this just happened” he muttered, turning to lay his head on the small of her back. He could feel the vibration of the small laugh she let go at his comment.

“Me neither, Chuck… but I, uh… I have a confession, which I think will make you laugh,” Hannah replied.

“Do go on…” he replied.

“You told me you looked for my information with Winters, right?” Hannah asked.

“Right”.

“Well, when I looked for you too… I did the same,” she said and felt his head suddenly turn to her at her words, “and when I said your name, he gave me a weird look, but now I know it was a ‘I know something important about this that you don’t know’ look”. 

“So, wait, we l—ooked for each other in the past few months, and we did exactly the same shit?” he said, struggling slightly. 

Hannah heard the clicker of the lighter and looked back at him, lightning a cigarette with a shit eating grin sprawled upon his lips. 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” she replied, laying her head back down. 

“Another reason why I would like to marry you, then,” he added, like it was nothing.

What he didn’t notice was the speed in which Hannah’s eyes widened and her heart started thumping inside her rib cage. 

“I’m sorry?!” she asked, sounding a tad bit anxious. Chuck was never one to say rushed things like that. 

“The first reason is how powerful and relentless you were and still clearly are. You know how I know that?” he asked, and she could feel his smile still in his lips.

“No, how?”

“When you confronted Sobel before we went to Holland. Of course, I didn’t know at the moment the amount of feelings I had for you, but… I think I did have some of them roaming inside me,” Chuck said, like he was the one who stood up to Herbert Sobel, “but that was just plain hot,” he finalized, and turned to look at her; Hannah was just looking at him like he was crazy. 

The night before, everyone was cheering for their job. They were done, they were bound to the States and all the Easy Company wanted to do was drink and laugh. 

For everyone’s demise, Lipton announced how they were heading back into war, to Holland, killing the mood instantly. 

As the replacements were getting helped and guided by Bull, rather than Cobb, who could only brag about stuff he never ever did; Chuck was packing her stuff near Malarkey, Bill and Hannah. 

“I swear I thought by this time I was gonna be home, with a hundred in my pocket, flowers for my mama and nearing Christmas with my nieces and nephews” Malarkey said, fixing his bayonet. The rest scoffed, still bitter by the news.

“I miss the coffee from hometown, there’s this beautiful place in Hamstown Square, it’s very small and cozy, and the pastries are the most delicious I’ve ever had” Hannah said, looking like she was talking about the love of her life. 

“Guys, look!” Bull said, interrupting them, pointing to their right.

On a jeep, carrying some stuff behind it, sat Herbert Sobel, their former CO, the nightmare that trained them back in Toccoa. Hannah knew she didn’t train with him as much as the rest, but a year with that man was more than enough. 

“Fuck, no…” Hannah whispered so just the boys around her heard her “No, not him”.

“Don’t—Pretend he’s not here,” Malarkey said to her, tying the loose ends of her parachute to her shoulders as Skip came to them scowling like the rest. “Y’all too, do not look at him”. 

Neither obliged, all of them stared at the man passing by. 

“The hell is he doing here?” Skip wondered, without getting an answer.

Sobel walked in a straight line near the men as the truck behind his jeep unloaded, looking between the men with his usual air of superiority untouched. 

Unlucky for Hannah, he had met her eyes not too long after, and the man approached her, before the rest could make themselves scarce. 

“Still alive, uh… Davis?” Sobel asked, scowling at the brunette.

“Pretty much, sir. Still teaching at that school… somewhere?” she answered, provoking a few small gasps around her. Sobel scowl just deepened.

“Do not disrespect me with that tone, private” the taller man threatened, his jaw clenching tight. 

“Earn the respect, like you once taught us, and I won’t,” Hannah replied, her tone dripping with bitterness and irony. She felt a hand in her shoulder and knew one of the men was probably trying to calm her down. “You came here and act surprised that I’m still alive? No, I deserve more than that, sir”. 

“You shut your mouth right now, private! This—this is the reason why women shouldn’t be allowed in the army; they’re too emotional!” Sobel exclaimed, almost yelling to get attention, which only made Hannah even more furious.

“If you were in our command, if you were our leader, we would all be dead right now. Don’t you remember that drill we did back in England? Why do you think you were ‘promoted’? And no, I’m not scared of you, go write me up if you want to; Winters is south of the camp, third tent on the right. Colonel Sink is in the next tent to his, the fourth one,” Hannah felt like she couldn’t stop, her anger overcoming her; mountains of words and feelings that were accumulating, finally leaving her chest. 

Chuck couldn’t believe the words that came out of her. 

Everyone awaited without breathing for an answer, a yell from Sobel, something. But nothing came, he just scowled, breathed hard, and before anyone took a breath again, he turned around tight in his heel and left to the back of the truck. 

Hannah took a breath and turned around to finish prepping, when she found many of her fellow paratroopers smiling at her, some nodding in approval even. Johnny Martin crossed by her side, squeezing her arm, as he whispered a small “good one” for her. 

“I fucking hate him, that felt really good”, she said to Chuck, turning to adjust his jumpsuit. 

Chuck just stared at her, feeling hard to believe what just went through. Their former NCO was just bashed in front of everyone, and no one, not even one paratrooper came in his defense. 

His eyes roamed through her face as she fixed his suit and talked about something he wasn’t paying attention to. Suddenly, he was looking at her in a different way, one that would grow over time during the war.

///

The night caught up to Chuck and Hannah, both deep asleep on his bed. The brunette laid her head in his shoulder, on her side, while he was laid in his back, with his cheek against her forehead. 

Though around dawn, Chuck’s body started to shook. It came softly at first, just a few twitches, until it became a whole storm inside him. 

Hannah stirred up and saw how every muscle in his arms and chest were clenched, and he muttering something she couldn’t comprehend. Clearly, he was having a nightmares. The nightmares that seemed to never end, which felt like a punishment that everyone had to endure post war. 

The brunette placed her hands around his head as she whispered, “Chuck, Chuck, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, wake up, love, wake up.” 

His eyes shot open, looking terrified as he gasped for air, his hands fumbling to find her. 

“Hannah, Hannah!” He exclaimed, as he finally met her eyes. His body was shaking until he realized she was there, looking down at him, with a tired, disheveled smile. 

“It’s okay, love, I’m here, I’m here,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek before looking down at him again. 

The first light of the sun shining through the white curtains, illuminating both with such warmth it made Hannah’s heart swell. 

“I’m sorry, I’m s—sorry, Hannah, this still happens…” he explains, his hand tight on her side. 

But Hannah just smiles sweetly at him, “it still happens to me too, Chuck, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” she explains, admiring his deep blue eyes. 

“Can you… can you sing to me?” He asked, sounding almost embarrassed to ask for it. 

The touch of your lips upon my face

Your lips that are cool and sweet

Such tenderness lies in their soft caress

My heart forgets to beat

The touch of your hands upon my head

The love in your eyes, ashine

And now at last, the moment divine

The touch of your lips, the love in your eyes

The touch of your lips on mine

Chuck closed his eyes as her singing filled his ears. He haven’t felt peace like at that moment, not since the war. Hugging his mother, playing cards with his brothers or the men from the Company brought joy, but peace; peace came from Hannah, wearing his shirt, at dawn, singing to him. 

And it was the same for Hannah. 

Both knew the nightmares will continue to haunt them, and that their lives will go on, but at least, they were going to go through it together. 

And that was more than enough for them. ///

[himbowelsh]

i take extreme interest in the bob characters’ flaws, especially winters. like in the series he is shown to really not have any faults or vices (as nix says) but i always try to think of what possible problems he has. like i think he really sucks at communicating most of the time, he never really gets deep with anyone in the series without it seeming short lived or distanced. he obviously cares about his men, but there’s a part of me that thinks he didn’t grow up with that much praise /part 1

or that he was given compliments like “you did great with x BUT you could improve on x and x” so his idea of personal conversations seem more professional or impersonal instead of genuine. or i think he may see everything too strategically and doesn’t take human emotion into consideration enough. like impulse decisions, he doesn’t get that sometimes bits of passion push you to do things, like guarnere being upset his brother died, or liebgotts hate for german POWs / part 2

because he is thinking about the bigger more rational picture of it instead of the deeper reasons for their actions. i’m sure he knows what’s going on, don’t mistake it for him being ignorant towards that, he feels like everyone else. i just think his is more guarded due to years of internalizing on his own part. dick obviously has an overwhelming sense of responsibility, he’s a natural born leader. so he puts himself aside because that’s what he thinks a leader should do / part 3

and to the people in dicks life who care about him, like nix who is at times over emotional and will share his thoughts and yell his problems out loud, they take dicks lack of forefront emotion to mean he doesn’t like him. when that’s the complete opposite, he’s putting his own emotions aside as a way to show he wants to be strong for nix and let nix know that his emotions are the most important thing to dick, so much so his inner thoughts and feelings can be pent up to listen to nix’s own

Ooof, there’s a lot to unpack here so I had to take a little while to digest it, but...

No doubt, Dick’s modest and restrained upbringing played a major role in the man he became.  It definitely taught him humility, that working hard and quietly is better them being a showman.  When you compare someone like Nix, with his Upper East Side upbringing, to Dick, the contrast is clear.  It could come down to sheer personality, but Nix is outspoken and emotional, almost erratic with it at times.   No doubt Dick feels things just as keenly, but he’s learned to keep it inside. 

I have to disagree on your main point, though.  I think Dick does understand emotions.  He doesn’t let them influence his own decision-making, but he has a keen understanding of the people around him  ---  he wouldn’t be such an effective leader if he didn’t.   He knows that Guarnere’s anger is motivated by grief, and definitely must have sympathy for him; but Dick is able to look at the situation rationally, and realize that Guarnere is putting all their lives at risk for the sake of his own vendetta.  (Interestingly, Winters yelling at guarnere is one of the few times we see him lose control, even a little.)

During Nix’s mini-breakdown, he gets it.  He doesn’t completely know how to handle it  ---   because Nix’s emotions are so wildly different from his own, messy and mercurial  ---   but Dick is there, a quiet support when his friend needs it.  Compare this to how Nix reacts when he sees Dick is upset: he talks around the issue, offering semi-awkward reassurances that don’t really hit at the heart of Dick’s actual problem, but acknowledge it nonetheless.   (Hall’s death is a great example.  Dick is struggling with losing someone under his command; Nix can only assure him that the map they obtained will do a lot of good. This validates both Dick’s efforts and Hall’s sacrifice, offering Dick a small measure of peace.)

On the topic of Hall  ---   here’s a great example of how Dick understands people.  Hear me out, here. He’s just dropped into Normandy, and his only companion is a scared kid he only kind of knows. It’s a bad situation. Both their lives are on the line.

A livejournal post from 2009 explains it best:

I can’t resist giving you this whole conversation, cause it so illuminates Winters’ character without being heavy-handed. Winters: “So you’re a radio man.” Hall: “Yes sir. I was, sir, until I lost my radio in the jump. I’m sure I’ll get chewed out for that.” Winters: “Well if you were in my platoon, I’d tell you you are a rifleman first and a radio man second.” Hall: “Maybe you can tell that to my platoon leader when we find him. If we find him.” Winters: “It’s a deal. But first, I need your help. Locate some landmarks to get our bearings. Keep your eyes peeled for buildings, farmhouses, bridges, roads, trees…” Hall: (laughs) “I wonder if the rest of them are as lost as we are.” Winters: “We’re not lost. We’re in Normandy.” Hall is clearly scared. But Winters, man… 1) makes conversation, which makes Hall feel more normal in this crazy environment, 2) reassures Hall that he’s not a screw-up, so he feels stronger, 3) calls Hall a “rifleman first”, which makes an excellent point and teaches Hall something, 4) by calling him a “rifleman”, focuses Hall on his identity as a soldier (as opposed to a technician), which might save their lives if they run into trouble, 5) enlists Hall’s “help” to distract him from his fear, 6) makes him laugh, and 7) reassures him that they’re not lost; that Winters has the situation under control. See that? It takes me longer to explain the awesome than for Winters to be awesome. That’s how awesome he is.

Winters’s approach to emotions is practical, but he gets them. He’s got a keen sense of how to communicate, and what works for each man. Actually, he works best one-on-one with the men, instead of stuck behind a desk. Other peoples’ emotions aren’t his problem.

You definitely hit on something when you say he puts his own emotions aside, though. That might be the core of Winters’ character flaws  ---  he represses his own feelings, always making room for others. There’s no doubt he’s got a blindspot when it comes to Nix  (at times, he’s overly-tolerant, almost enabling Nix’s self-destructive behaviors); Nix is the closest person to him during the war. He sees Nix at his worst...  but even when Dick’s really struggling, he doesn’t open up to his friend. Is he the sort of person who prefers not to share his feelings? Probably. Still, Dick rarely vocalizes what he feels, keeping it all inside. I could see him...  as the sort of person to push aside what’s best for him to make room for other people.  He lets them have center-stage, and his natural humility keeps him from claiming even the recognition he’s earned.  He’s not the sort of person comfortable in the limelight.  The only reason he advanced so far in the army wasn’t because he was pushing his own accomplishments, but impressing everyone else with his obvious skill and experience.  In another setting  ---  say, a workplace ---  Dick’s reticence might lead to him getting passed over for promotions or drowned out by louder voices.  He doesn’t pursue what he wants, personally, only what the people around him need.

Just my thoughts, and thank you so much for sharing yours. Anyone else who wants to chime in on Winters’ flaws is welcome!!