#Nix explanation

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

Luffy: what’s sandman doing here?

Dragon, pinching his nose: he’s your fucking mother

Sanji: That bastard is fucking luffy’s mother? I’ll kill him.

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

Burgling the treats cabinet with mama

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

To the people saying they miss Ambrosius’ long hair, that is totally fair but hearing they very much based his design for the movie on Eugene makes the change acceptable to me

also please read this hollywood reporter story they literally say “[eugene]’s also got incredibly fabulous hair” lol

((there is a lot of other very interesting tidbits in it too))

[rockpaperscissuhs]

BAND OF BROTHERS: EPISODE ONE + my favorite closeup shots

[saywhat-politics]

Advocacy group Common Cause says a $115,000 ad criticizing Elon Musk was nixed without explanation by WaPo

The Washington Post has apparently backed out of running a “Fire Elon Musk” advertisement that was paid for and set to run on Tuesday, according to advocacy group Common Cause.

The organization told The Hill on Sunday that it had signed a $115,000 deal with WaPo to run its anti-Musk ad on the front and back pages of its Tuesday paper, along with a full-page ad inside. The ad was purchased and planned in collaboration with the Southern Poverty Law Center Action Fund.

The ad buy included the following message: “Since day one, Elon has created chaos and confusion and put our livelihoods at risk. And he is accountable to no one but himself.”

It continued, “The Constitution only allows for one president at a time. Call your senators and tell them it’s time Donald Trump fire Elon Musk.” The ad then said readers can get more details at FireMusk.org.

[pilferingapples]

Y'know I love Comedically Ineffectual Javert but I feel like. Mayhaps. Not enough emphasis is put on how he is actually dangerous to people on the barricade.

He's a government spy -- "A spy of the first quality, who had observed everything, listened to everything, and taken in everything, even when he thought that he was to die; who had played the spy even in his agony, and who, with his elbows leaning on the first step of the sepulchre, had taken notes."

He knows everyone who was there, and a good amount of who did what, who's the leader, etc. He recognizes Marius after the sewers . He took names. He could have given evidence against everyone on the barricades.

Including the five men who escaped.

Including anyone who survived the massacre.

Including the women who worked at the Corinth, who did in fact help set up and prepare the barricade for the fight.

In fact, we don't know that he didn't --we can assume that he had too short an audience with the prefect to give over any detailed info, or that he chose to withhold some things in his Valjean-induced confusion, or even that they threw out his info after his suicide. But it's also possible that five men who thought they'd escaped were rounded up and arrested that week, or that two waitresses were seized as insurgents, or captives were hit with some very specific charges. As Hugo examines in detail in Ninety Three, and hints at even in Les Mis, sometimes showing mercy to one person means condemning many others.

(This , combined with the then-current attitude towards spies --basically that they were the scummiest of scum, execute immediately-- all makes me wonder not why Enjolras wanted him killed, but why he insisted on letting Javert live so long. Especially after Prouvaire's death, when it's safe to say the idea of any potential hostage negotiation is nixed-- what is the point? They aren't really intent on saving a bullet, given Valjean has the go-ahead to shoot him. And after Five Less One More, there's no chance that, say, they'll win and get to let him go as being actually harmless to them with the new political situation. There's no real explanation given in canon so it's an interesting question!)

At any rate: whether Javert did or didn't actually deliver his info, Enjolras and the other barricade fighters choosing to execute him is a practical move totally in keeping realistic military behavior (and Hugo is trying to establish them as behaving like Honorable Military Men ! Which is a whole other topic ...) . Javert is dangerous to the barricade fighters , as his job is to be dangerous-- and despite how he comes off sometimes (and in some adaptations), Javert is actually very very good at his job.

[evidenceof]

see if you think back hard enough, dick, you'll find the explanation's been there all along. and it's always made sense.

and you've always thought of nix as the exception.

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

@undead-red-head

on loving your siblings

I don't love anyone, Belle and Sebastian//The Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda//The Other Boleyn Girl(2008)//Fleabag, 2x06//NA//Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy//Antigone, Jean Anouilh//Maurice Sendak//Little Miss Sunshine (2006)//The Elektra Complex, @filmnoirsbian //NA

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

You can really see how much Luffy has grown when Burgess calls Blackbeard in front of him in ep 650. Pre-timeskip Luffy would have been determined to fight Burgess and track down Blackbeard (like Ace would have) but here he just. Moves on. Incredible baby I am so proud of you.

[theartkid15]

Mooties, I kinda need a small favor

Explanation: so I’m doing this final project for my algebra 3-4 class. I know, a project as a final than a test blows. And it’s over statistics. The basic explanation for the project is, have a question, survey people, and record the data.

That would be fine and dandy. But my teacher waited until there was nine days to give this project while other classes had three weeks. Plus I’m leaving for a vacation on the second to last day before school ends so I’m on crunch time to get this done. I’m at a C and I don’t need my mom on my but so I want to do good on this.

Recording the data is the hard part since I’m not allowed to give complete strangers the survey question and only ask people I know. And I don’t have a huge friend group and I don’t wanna bother the few family members I have. Minimum of 50 is what I need.

So in short can you guys pretty please answer my question so I can collect as much data as I can?

I will be forever grateful if you do but it’s completely optional so no pressure. I’m fully aware in the end I’m responsible for my own grade and how I go about this.

The question: How many minutes do you take to pick out an outfit in the morning?

You can just leave ur answers in the comments or message me, whatever works best for ya!

@fallenjello @eclipssnstars @roguepierogi7 @piratebeanscore @kiskister @kosmickingdom @sillybehindyou @silly-lesb21 @booyahhstormz @okurokkk @rottmeltson @nat-the-rat326 @nayann51 @eckosz0 @acidrotsz @cherrythepuppet @pinetreesdoodles @poggers-bitch @megacristalixblue @annethehorror @girlsnap @pxrfaitgirlz @alienfromthedeepsea @cornread @ratseathumans @vinnielov3r @v4lluvsst0n3 @pebblesno1defender @nix-the-twix123 @local-loudmouth @anomal-studios @killer-bugboi

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

Today is the last day to comment!

https://x.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1765391777580912958?s=20

PLEASE GD IF YOU LOVE AND WANT TRAINS

[rogue-durin-16]

MISHAPS AND SILVER LININGS

Request: maybeee dialogue prompt 53 with Nixon x female reader?? But maybe kinda angsty also??? (anything u write is great so 🤷‍♀️)

Summary: after all the tragedy endured during the war, nobody would have guessed one last mishap would help the stars align for Lewis Nixon and Y/n Y/l/n.

Prompt:

53. "I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?"

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Tags:

Requested by: anon

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: alcoholism, swearing (that's it omfg)

A/N: writing for Nixon was surprisingly easy? I high-key had fun with this one. Thanks for the request love. Remember that requests are open rn so feel free to send yours in. Meanwhile, enjoy this little fic <3

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

A dull light crept through the curtains of the flat Regiment had billeted me in when Nixon finally stirred.

He shifted on my bed, a slight groan escaping his lips the moment his barely open eyes hit the few rays of sun striking the mattress. He had one hell of a hungover.

During the last year of our lives, Lewis Nixon and I had worked side by side across Europe practically at all times— which meant I wasn't exactly a stranger to his drinking problem. Since we came back from that jump over Germany though, it had escalated to a different level.

'He's been demoted' I had disclosed to Dick as soon as we linked back up with Battalion HQ.

'Demoted?' Although his friend had questioned it, no explanation was needed. He already knew. 'Okay, I'll talk to him'.

I don't think anyone could blame him. It all had become too much to handle, specially if one had lost conviction in the reasons we were still fighting this war.

I knew he had lost it. As if it wasn't obvious enough, he had blurted it out one of those nights we stayed awake for one reason or another. That exact night everyone had stayed awake, I believe.

That damned patrol back in Hagenau. We had fought Sink not to push forward that mission, but there was no use.

"This is stupid." I mumbled, arms crossed and my eyes fixed to the other side of the river.

The full moon's light reflected on the snow. In any other setting, I would have found it beautiful, but with fifteen Easy Company members being sent on a suicide, the landscape was far from that.

"Glueing yourself to the window won't help them."

I shot Nix a tired glare and pushed myself off the window in order to walk towards him. "They shouldn't be out there."

"None of us should be out here."

"What do you mean?"

"Why the hell are we here at this point, Y/n/n?"

I didn't have a response.

"Don't you wanna come back home already? To that lovely husband of yours." He teased with a bitter half laugh.

"You're funny." He didn't know about the mail. How could he know? "Don't think he'll be there when I come back."

"What?"

"He sent a letter back when we were in the Bois Jaques." I explained, snatching the glass of whiskey Nix had by the typewriter. "Said if I wasn't home by New Year, he'd file for divorce."

"You're kidding." Nix sat straight in his chair when I didn't laugh. "Who in their right mind would leave you?"

"The man I married, apparently." The officer struggled to meet my eyes. He knew by now I didn't want pity. "Guess he doesn't know why we're still out here either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat up slowly, squinting against the light, one hand coming up to clutch his head. It didn’t take long for him to notice me slouched on the bedroom's armchair. His gaze darkened, panic flashing across his features.

“What the hell…” he muttered, groaning softly. He rubbed his face and looked around, as if hoping he could piece together the memory.

I watched his eyes darting around like he was still scrambling to make sense of everything. The awkward silence stretched between us until he finally spoke.

“I… I remember kissing you.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost angry with himself. “Why do I remember kissing you?”

The Night Before

The knock at the door was unsteady, clumsy, like he could barely remember how to make a fist. I pulled on a sweater and padded across the cold floor, half-expecting to find someone delivering bad news. Instead, there was Nixon, eyes glazed, swaying slightly as he tried to focus on me.

“Jesus, Nix…” I murmured, instinctively stepping aside as he staggered into the room. The sharp, sour scent of whiskey clung to him, familiar but stronger than usual, almost suffocating. I shut the door behind him, hands already moving to steady him as he slumped into the nearest chair, his gaze unfocused.

“What on God's name are you doing here?”

He looked up at me, his face a blur of exhaustion, frustration, and something else—something deeper. “She’s leaving me, y'know,” he slurred. “Kat's divorcing me."

"Jesus, Lew." I poured him a glass of water and kneeled down. "Now?"

"Took… took the damn dog, too."

"She took your dog?!"

He snorted with glassy irises. "Everything. I think... I knew it would happen, but… didn’t think it’d feel like… like this.”

I swallowed, feeling the heaviness of his words settle in my chest. “I’m sorry, Nix,” I whispered, unsure of what else to say, until I remembered the words he said to me back in Hagenau. “I don't know who in their right mind would leave you.”

It was soft, just like the featherlight touch of my thumb brushing away a rogue tear before it could reach his jawline. It sounded dangerously similar to 'I wouldn't leave you'. Maybe that's what he had meant back then.

He let out a bitter laugh, his head falling back against the chair. “Yeah, well… doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” He closed his eyes, breathing out, then looked at me with a strange intensity, like he’d finally worked up the nerve to say something he’d been holding onto for too long.

Something I both craved and dreaded to hear.

“Do you know…” He trailed off, blinking as if the words kept slipping away from him. “Do you know how hard it’s been? Pretending I don’t… pretending I don’t want to kiss you every damn time I see you?”

The confession knocked the air from my lungs, and I stood there, stunned, heart pounding too loudly in the silence that followed.

“Nix…” I began, voice barely a whisper, but he just shook his head, his eyes shifting, unfocused and pained.

“I wanted to kiss you from the very first second I heard your voice.” he said, voice rough and broken. "I remember how beautiful you looked the first day we worked together, how smart you were and how I just wanted to... But Kat- I couldn't... Do that to her and your- you..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I tried and... for what? For this?"

My lips were sealed with panic but the glint in my gaze and the liquor in his veins spurred him.

"Tell me it's just me... Tell me..." He did his best to lean forward without lolling too much. "Everytime it almost happened... Just say..." His look dropped to my lips, too intoxicated to care how obvious he was. "The 'what if's haunt me when I stare for too long..."

I couldn't say I didn't feel exactly like that. The cautious dance we were in was long overdue —the brush of a hand, a whisper closer than necessary, that drink we shared in Mourmelon that almost made us cross the line—, but it had been a silent mutual agreement not to act on it.

Before I could process everything, before I could find the right words to stop it without pretending I didn't feel the same, he leaned forward, his hands gripping my arms for support as he pressed his lips to mine.

It was lousy, desperate, filled with something raw and aching, and I didn’t know if it was my own hesitation or his unsteady hands that made it linger just a second too long.

He staggered back, eyes half-closed, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the whole thing. His hands dropped, and he swayed, his breath slowing as the exhaustion finally took over. His head slumped onto my shoulder, and he exhaled, a quiet surrender.

“Nix?” I whispered, looking down to see his eyes shut, breaths now slow and even.

The confession hung between us, unanswered. And I sat there, his weight against me, tangled in everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The panicked question floated in the air, heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.

"Y/n." I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "Why do I remember kissing you?"

I cleared my throat and did my best to sound somewhat nonchalant about it. “Well, maybe because you kissed me, Lew.”

"For Christ's sake..." He groaned, rubbing his face with his palms. "Just what I needed, great. This is great."

"You drank too much." I tried to excuse him. Emphasis on 'tried'.

"I always drink too much and this never—" Another frustrated groan, this time louder, escaped him.

"I've never seen you... That drunk." The statement was tainted with worry; a worry I had felt the night before and didn't have time to voice. "You looked... awful. I had to drag you to the bed." I stole a peek at him while I explained, catching a mortified expression on his part as he sat up, legs hanging from the side of the bed as he was now facing me. "I get it. I really do. It's hard enough out here. Hey—" I kneeled down to meet his casted down face, much like the night before, but with very different circumstances. "You saw me in Noville. I wasn't... I wasn't myself. And it wasn't even-"

I pondered how to put my thoughts into words without making it worse. The best way to explain he wasn't all that bad without making a fool of myself.

"I didn't... Love him, y'know? Charles, I mean." At the name of my soon to be ex-husband, Nix seemed to regain the will to meet my eyes, which now recoiled from his. "Not anymore, at least. But it felt... The letter felt like a gut punch— I felt like... my life slipped through my fingers. And when stuff like that happens, we do stupid things. Because we feel lost."

"Is that what I said?"

"Huh?"

"That I felt lost."

I shook my head no, the realization that he didn't quite remember his drunken speech dawning on me.

"What exactly did I tell you?"

"You... Don't remember what you said?"

"No- I... What did I say?"

Suddenly eager to put distance between us, I bolted to my feet and walked out of the room. "I don't know- things anyone would say when they're drunk as a skunk."

"Like- like what things?" He questioned, his steps trailing behind me in the kitchen's direction.

"Nix, you were drunk and going through shit." Deep down, I didn't think I would be able to reason my way out of that one, but I had to try. "Don't put much thought into it." I insisted, reaching for the percolator to brew a very much needed coffee.

"What did I say? Y/n-" just as I was about to turn on the stove, he interlaced his calloused fingers around my wrist and gently tugged on it to stand face-to-face. "Just tell me how much I screwed it."

"You didn't screw anything."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

"Maybe because we've been trying not to end up here for a literal year and now this happened?"

Lew scrutinized me with fear in his dark eyes. I had seen that expression too many times, he was drawing his conclusions based on what he knew.

"Did I tell you I'm in love with you?"

Silence. Charged silence. One look was enough for him to realize he did not say that. His hand let go of me to cover his mouth while he took a step back.

Once more, I was at loss of words, which was something Nix had rarely accomplished in the time we had known each other.

"I... I don't know what I was thinking— Jesus Christ—" he exhaled the last part, an apology plastered all over him. "I'm just gonna... I shouldn't have come in the first place."

He was about to turn heel and leave. We both had done that before, more times than we could count. The difference was, there was no need for me to let him slip away; not anymore.

In a spurt of bravery, I grasped at his forearm and tugged him back, daring to stare straight into his soul while I spoke.

"You said Kat was divorcing you. Said you didn't think you'd feel like this." I began, voice clear as day. "You said you were done pretending you didn't wanna kiss me everytime you see me." He dropped his gaze, a flicker of regret in his eyes, jaw clenched tight. "You said the 'what if's haunt you if you stare for too long. You asked me if it was just you who felt like that."

"... Am I?" He recalculated the situation, shame dissipating to let me discern something similar to hope.

"Y'know what's the first thing I thought after reading Charles' letter?" He barely had time to deny with his head before I continued. "I thought 'fuck him, the man I love sleeps in my goddamn foxhole'." His breath hitched at the word but he didn't shy away from me; on the contrary, he watched my every move while my grip eased from his arm and traveled to the back of his neck. "Now tell me, are you fucking sober yet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good 'cause I'm done pretending too."

My statement was hasty and quick. The previous night had left me too eager to return the kiss I had so desperately wanted to give him.

Months of stealing longing glances at each other fueled our need to make sure there was no space between us anymore. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my upper body flush against his while the kiss deepened in a way we could only have fantasized about— had it not been for those damn letters.

Who would have thought our silver lining of war would be our failed marriages?

[kd-13]

Uuuhh this blog has taken over my mind for the past week so I drew a bunch of the side characters(?)!!

A little explanation for them under thecut!!!

.nix - I thought it would be cool to have their name on them like it appeared when they got their name and I made the period before their name as their nose cuz it seemed kinda cute X3

👔 - with the ones using emoji sign-offs I made it sorta part of their designs! I made him a shadow guy since I didn't want all of them to be like the same copy and past bodies, and I needed more practice drawing shadow guys!!

@a-very-questionably-unstable-box - it's in the name, also I think they could make a body but I didn't draw it, and uuuh not much to say for the design it's pretty simple!

📻👁️/Ruthie - I feel like she is short, incredibly short even. I also tried to make her look like an off brand Tenna in a way, also rolled up sleeves cuz it looks cool.

★🌐 - I am really not happy with this design but a part I like has to be the like hovering circles underneath them, looks really futuristic to me!

🪲🎁 - this one I find really cute with the four eyes and arms, I also love the butt bit?? Idk what it's called again like the anthrax?? But it's cute and I love it!!

@motza-rella /🐁anon - since I have a wide range of furry characters and a canonical design this was really easy and fun to draw!

Vodka woman/anon - fur coat since she would be a diva, plus cat eye sunglasses for more icon energy (ik she had like 2 asks but she's an icon)

@ask-wine-man / Sebastian (idk why it's not working) - no joke I originally used a sideways wine bottle for his head until I reread the description of him they made. I also think this man is insanely tall like a giraffe type tall.

You read all that O-o?? Well yk you should watch yub on YouTube, he's funny.

@tenna-the-tv (you can reblog this if ya want)

[blurredcolour]

Take These Broken Wings

Dick Winters x Enlisted!Unnamed Female OC/Reader

Trapped behind his desk, Dick finds out the unthinkable has happened to the woman he cares about. Now he has to deal with the consequences; first as her commanding officer and then as the man who loves her.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied Sexual Assault, Descriptions of OC/Reader Injuries, Discussion of Retaliatory Violence, Gentleman's Agreement Not To Prosecute, Period Specific Ideas about Honor and Protection of Women, PTSD, Weapons, Language, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Because of the sensitive nature of this fic, I chose to write it in the third person but only a nickname is used so it can be read as a reader fic. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within, particularly the Red Devils in this case!

Special Note: Dearest tag list, I have chosen not to tag any of you because this is so wildly different than my usual fics, I just wasn't sure who would want to read it.

Word Count: 4148

-------------------------

October 17, 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland

It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. With any of the female paratroopers in the 506th, for that matter. But like the slow erosion of a river carving a new path through bare rock, she had ever so gradually hollowed out a place for herself in his heart until all at once he realized he could not live without her. Of course, if one were to ask her, she fell in love with Dick Winters the first day they met in Toccoa, Georgia, sun scorching their skin, blazing his hair copper – or so she liked to remind him often.

His realization had not come until he’d found her halfway up a tree in Normandy, tangled in the lines of her parachute, desperately trying to slice herself free before she was discovered by enemy troops. The sheer panic he had felt as his mind flooded with all the possible ways he could have lost her that night had only served to drive home how deeply he cared for Peaches. Dick didn’t often use the nickname that Nix had bestowed on her; a nickname born of some sordid adventure involving cans of peaches that he’d decided he’d rather not know about. But he did love the way it made her nose crinkle when he slipped it into their stolen moments together. Moments that were becoming harder and harder to find now that he had been placed in charge of 2nd Battalion.

Several pages being laid on his desk by Zielinski tore Dick out of his inner musings and he lifted his pen to add his signature to the line where his Orderly pointed expectantly. Sink had assured him the paperwork would be ‘nothing to sweat’ but Dick was certainly sweating it now. The call of Nixon’s voice as he came up the stairs was a welcome reprieve from the rapidly multiplying stacks of paper on his desk, something that his friend seemed only too happy to point out.

Dick could only feel envy, mixed with trepidation and a certain amount of helplessness, as Heyliger informed him Operation Pegasus was preparing to launch in a matter of hours and he remained trapped in his combination office and bedroom in the attic. As the pair of them made their way down the stairs and out of the requisitioned farmhouse, Dick looked up from his typewriter once more as he heard Nixon’s bright greeting.

“Hey there Peaches, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Very funny Captain. Lieutenant.” He heard her voice reply and did his best not to grin.

“Zielenski, could you go grab a new box of pencils from the storeroom? It’s going to be a long night.” Dick swallowed, doing his best to come up with an excuse for two minutes alone with her, five if he was lucky.

“Yes, sir.” There was a note of confusion in the man’s voice but thankfully he complied, hustling down the stairs.

There was a moment of silence before he heard the door shut followed by the sound of her jump boots scuffing up the worn wooden steps, grinning as she was startled to find him waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“And here I was thinking I’d surprise you…Who was that?” She glanced back towards the door, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling about this thing?” He asked softly, taking her hands in his.

“Should be fine, Moose picked mostly people who can swim, the Canadians are nice. That Colonel Dobie sure is handsome.” She teased lightly, lacing her fingers with his.

Despite her teasing tone, Dick still felt a little annoyed at the comment, particularly given the fact that the man was free to swim the river in reconnaissance and join the operation that night while he was a glorified paper pusher.

“Too bad for him I like ‘em tall as a stalk of corn and copper as a penny.” She leaned in to press her lips to his and Dick felt his eyes fall shut, tension that he’d been carrying for hours slowly ebbing from his body.

She pulled back with a soft smile before frowning apologetically. “Sorry my love I got grease paint on you.” She licked her thumb and swiped at his cheek like he was a grubby toddler, and he could not help the broad grin that stretched his features even as he felt his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment she’d only recently begun to use.

“I’ll get it in a moment, Peaches.” He muttered, glancing around to ensure they were still alone before sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close, kissing her soundly. “Be safe out there…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

“Oh, like run across a field toward two companies of SS by myself?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pressed his lips together, still able to hear every word of her displeasure at being left behind for the agonizing seconds it took for the red smoke signal to appear.

“Especially that.” He muttered, clearing his throat and taking a step back as he heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.

She quickly grabbed her handkerchief and soaked it with water from her canteen, passing it to him so he could scrub at his face, hopefully removing all evidence of their interlude.

“Pencils sir.” Zielenski held out the box proudly and she raised an eyebrow, introducing herself warmly to the Orderly.

“That’ll be all, Sergeant, good luck out there.”

“Thank you sir, appreciate your time.” She replied smoothly, looking completely unaffected while Dick was very aware of the residual heat in his face.

Dick took his time opening the box, watching her back as she slowly descended out of sight until the door closed shut behind her. Sinking into his chair he submitted himself to another few hours of pointing and signing with his Orderly before sending the boy to bed, peering out his window hopefully when a great ruckus arose from one of the barns out back.

Glancing at his watch to confirm it was nearly 0200, he smiled a little to himself as everything seemed to have gone off alright. Rain drops began to sporadically strike the windowpane before the clouds opened into a steady, driving rain. Dick dropped the curtain with a sigh, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of water striking the roof and rolling off the eaves. It was dangerously tempting to lay his head down on his desk and give in to the heaviness in his eyelids, to allow himself to be lulled to sleep. Shaking himself physically, he turned back to yet another report and began striking the keys of his typewriter with a vengeance, hoping to keep himself awake with the racket.

Dick was just spooling a fresh page into place when Nixon was suddenly hurrying up the stairs, followed by Colonel Dobie himself. Both men were wet as drowned rats, but it was the seriousness of their faces that pulled Dick to his feet immediately, securing the pencil from between his teeth into his fist.

“Dick, you remember Colonel Dobie.”

“Yeah…yeah I do…” He replied slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of a sword dangling over their heads as he waited for them to tell him what was going on.

“Terribly sorry to barge in at such a late hour but I wanted to inform you of this incident personally. Well, incidents more precisely. It appears that one of our men, a Holman from Yorkshire, has been severely beaten by a couple of your men from Easy in retaliation for his attack on one of your female soldiers.”

Dick nodded once as he processed the news, heartrate picking up immediately. There were a total of twenty-seven women in 2nd Battalion, but given that it had been only Easy involved in Pegasus, that narrowed it down to a possible nine, of which just a handful had been chosen for the operation. Dick merely had to glance at Nixon to confirm his worst fear. Peaches.

He didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pencil in his hand had grown until the wooden object snapped in two.

“I am willing to consider the matter settled and in need of no further action. The man in question will be returned to England and assigned to some menial duty once he recovers from his injuries.” Dobie continued.

“That will take some time?” Dick asked calmly, despite the searing rage he felt rushing through him.

“Your men were thorough, Captain.” The Colonel replied, grimly.

Dick stood there a moment, eyeing an ink stain that had seeped into the wooden desk top while he was refilling his pen, considering. A beating and unpleasant assignment as punishment for heaven knows what the man had inflicted on her. But to demand more formal proceedings would immediately require testimonies and punishments for the men who had taken it upon themselves to defend her honor. He closed his eyes a moment, vision immediately flooded with her smiling face on one of the blissful outings they had enjoyed during their furlough in England. Forcefully setting the image aside, despite the way it wrenched at his heart to do so, he nodded again. If only to save her further pain.

“Agreed.” Dick offered his hand, Colonel Dobie sealing their agreement with a firm handshake.

Dobie turned to shake Nixon’s hand as well before seeing himself out, Dick waiting until he heard the door close before he spoke again. Two questions on the tip of his tongue, two men inside him, warring for dominance. To his dismay, he had to allow the Battalion’s commanding officer to speak first.

“Who are our vigilantes?”

“Martin and Randleman.” Nixon replied, sitting on one of the folding chairs at the small table in the corner with a heavy sigh. “Moose has them downstairs if you want to talk to them.”

“Yeah. Show them up.”

Nixon leveraged himself out of the chair and was halfway across the attic before he suddenly turned back. “She put that can of peaches in Parkes’ footlocker.”

Dick eyed his friend in confusion, the information seeming utterly irrelevant to their current situation until he suddenly remembered one of Sobel’s impromptu barracks inspections back in Toccoa.

“That dumb bastard wouldn’t leave the women in her squad alone, so she planted it there to get him in trouble – never expected him to get thrown out entirely.” Nixon sighed heavily.

“Where is she?” Dick asked quickly, the words almost melding together in his haste to get them out of his mouth.

“Johnny thinks she’s holed up in the supply barn, I’ll find out.” Nixon replied with a frown and Dick nodded silently, muscles of his jaw clenching almost painfully as he clung to the last vestiges of his focus.

He tossed the broken halves of the pencil onto the desk, frowning at the mess of lead on his palm and pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, frown deepening at the smudges of grease paint there from her face. He clenched the fabric between his fingers as Moose entered the office followed by a hard-faced Martin and a typically laidback Randleman.

“What happened?” He asked plainly, eyeing them expectantly.

Moose stood off to the side, watching Martin and Randleman exchange a look.

“Don’t all talk at once…” Dick prodded calmly, and Martin turned back to him.

“Bull and I were on our way out of the celebration, wanted to beat the rain and get back to our quarters – didn’t work out. Ran into Peaches as we got around the corner of the building. She looked like hell, roughed up, wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“She just ran, not like her at all, sir.” Randleman chimed in.

“And then that bastard from the Devils, or whatever they call themselves, came around the corner looking all pleased with himself. Adjusting his pants.”

“Knuckles busted up.” Came Randleman’s addition once more.

“Anyway,” Martin continued after a sharp nod of agreement, “it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Dick exhaled a slow, measured breath. “I can appreciate why you both did what you did. Next time, and we can only hope we never have to have this conversation again, bring him to Moose, to me. We have systems in place, alright?”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All that said…well done.” Dick said with quiet emphasis, letting his pride and gratitude burn brightly in his gaze. “And you’re both on latrine duty for the next two weeks.” He tacked on because he really had no choice but to punish them.

A pair of smirking salutes was the only response before Moose ushered them out. Dick waited until the count of twenty before sliding the suspenders of his OD pants onto his shoulders, shrugging into his jacket and clapping on his helmet. Grabbing his M1 and flashlight, he quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the persistent deluge toward the supply barn, nearly slamming into Nixon on the way.

“Follow me.” His friend nodded and continued to lead the way, nodding to Liebgott who was standing guard at the door, soaked to the skin.

“Joe.” Dick greeted him, noting the way he had his collar turned up obscuring half his face. The way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

It easily could have been in an attempt to protect himself against the elements, but Dick also knew Liebgott was the sort of man to never let anything go unanswered and if he was standing out here in the rain, he was surely more involved than anyone was letting on.

“Peaches is in there, sir. Doc Roe tried to help her, she wouldn’t let him touch her. Thought I’d make sure no one bothered her until she was ready.”

“Good thinking.” Dick swallowed.

He ought to press further, ferret out the truth of Liebgott’s involvement, but standing just outside where she was hiding, the other half of him was very much in charge now – wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and charge in. But by the sounds of it, that approach would be quite unwelcome.

“Why don’t you go warm up for a bit, we’ll take a turn.” Nixon said to Liebgott who looked between the pair of them before nodding in return.

“Thanks, sir.” He agreed, glancing back toward the barn once before jogging off into the night.

Dick waited until they were well and truly alone before slowly opening the door, stepping into the dim space, sliding his helmet from his head. The sound of footsteps retreating into the far corner behind crates of supplies drew his attention and he took a slow breath, calling her name softly.

“It’s me. Dick. I’m here to check on you.”

There was a soft, smothered sound and he clenched his fists, keeping his progress gradual and measured, trying not to make any sudden movements or noises to startle her. As he reached the rear of the barn, he rounded a stack of crates and his heart clenched painfully as his eyes fell on her wedged between a few bundles of blankets and sacks of something it was too dark to read the labels of. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest, M1 tucked into the crook of her elbow as she eyed him warily in the dark.

Her normally tidy hair was in disarray, and the side of her face that he could see sported a gash across her eyebrow. He took another step closer, the air shuddering from his lungs as she flinched away, pressing tightly into the wall behind her, revealing her split lower lip, the swelling along her left cheekbone, the barely-dried tear tracks on her face.

Dick had never seen her shy away from anything since the day they’d met – not the obstacle course, the rifle range, Currahee, or jumping out of a C-47. For his proximity to garner such a reaction from her felt very much as though she had torn his heart from his breast and stomped it beneath her heel.

Sinking slowly into a crouch, he swallowed before speaking just above a whisper. “Peaches…”

The look of disgust, whether it was at the nickname or at herself – perhaps both, mixed with horror that crossed her face had Dick seriously considering if he had enough time to find Holman before his trip back to England and land a few blows himself. He gently corrected it with her name, teeth grinding together audibly in his skull as she turned her head to the side revealing small knicks at her throat. He’d held her at knife point.

“They’ve already found him. Some of the boys took justice into their own hands, but his superiors know now too.” He tried to reassure her, let her know he was no longer out there, no longer a threat to her.

Dick’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of her fingers as she picked at the torn ends of her nails, several cuts visible on her hands as well. Knowing her she’d probably put up a hell of a fight.

“P–” He stopped himself before he accidentally used the offensive nickname again. “…please you’re hurt. Can I clean you up?” He asked, voice trembling with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep at bay for her sake as he shifted forward onto his knees.

She shook her head violently in response, hugging her limbs tighter to her body, which hadn’t even seemed a possibility until it was done. Dick swallowed painfully, carefully laying his rifle and helmet down on the wooden floor beside him, sitting back on his heels.

“I love you.” He blinked rapidly at the gathering dampness in his eyelashes. “No matter what’s happened, I will always love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She eyed him skeptically, no words passing between them for a long while. The sound of the persistent rain outside pounding against the roof filled the barn, drowning out the sound of their breathing, until she opened her mouth to speak at last.

“I froze.” She whispered, tone thick with self-loathing as she released her grip on her M1, laying it down beside his before sealing her palm over her mouth.

She began to shake with sobs so ferocious that no sound passed her throat, rendering the smothering effect of her hand unnecessary. Dick felt his heart shatter as he automatically reached for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close and soothe some of her pain. Her repeated aversion to his touch, however, came flooding back and he froze, arms outstretched and aching to hold her, but wanting to respect her wishes.

The feeling of her body colliding with his chest as she launched herself into his arms punched the air from his lungs for several reasons, nearly sending him toppling over backwards with the force of it. Dick’s arms quickly gathered her onto his lap, one hand rubbing along her spine as her strangled sobs soaked his jacket, her hands clutching at him in return.

“You survived, my love.” He whispered against her hair, deciding he really ought to call her that in kind. It was only fitting for it was exactly how he felt. “You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. Please forgive yourself.”

He felt her shift against his sternum, the shudders wracking her body gradually slowing as she took deeper and deeper breaths, sniffling and wiping at her face carefully.

“Who did you have to yell at?” She murmured wetly, peering up at him cautiously.

“Martin and Randleman. Fairly certain Liebgott is somehow involved as well.” Dick replied softly, fighting back the urge to stroke her face. One step at a time – being allowed to hold her would more than suffice for now.

She sniffed. “Johnny must have figured it out first. I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie I just…ran away from him outside the party…” Her eyes lowered in shame before she sat up slowly, Dick biting back a frown at the barely concealed wince that crossed her features.

“Nix is outside keeping watch. Can I take you back to CP? Get you cleaned up?” He swallowed, really wanting her to allow Roe to look her over but doubting that would be an option.

She looked to him, eyes suddenly wide with the terror of realization. “Oh god Dick, what if I catch something or…wind up pregnant…oh fuck…” Her face began to crumple, and Dick swallowed, quickly cupping her uninjured cheek hoping to startle her out of that train of thought.

As she jumped and looked to him sharply, he apologized gently. “My love, we don’t know if any of those things will happen. Hopefully they won’t, but no matter what comes next, we’re going to face it together.”

“But Dick I’m–”

“Don’t go and say something melodramatic, now. You’re the woman I love and something horrible has been done to you. It doesn’t change who you are to me.” He replied firmly, swallowing as she stared at him startled for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Now I’m taking you to CP and we’re getting you cleaned up, ok?”

“Should I salute you, Captain?” She raised an eyebrow before wincing and restoring her face to a neutral expression.

He felt his cheeks redden, a sure sign that things would some day return back to normal. That the woman he loved was still with him, she just needed a lot of care right now and he was more than happy to provide it. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” He replied and tried not to smirk as she scoffed slightly in surprise before shifting to her feet slowly.

Dick passed her rifle to her before grabbing his own, rising to his feet and sliding his helmet on his head. He offered his hand to her, swallowing back his sigh of relief as she laced her battered fingers through his and followed him out through the maze of supplies to where Nixon was still waiting in the rain.

“Christ, Peaches…” He breathed when she came into view and Dick shot him a sharp look, trying, too late, to stop him using the nickname.

“Son-of-a-bitch ruined the nickname, Nix. I trust you to come up with a new one.” She sighed, sounding positively exhausted, and Nixon nodded quickly in reply.

“Noted. You sure you’re alright?” He asked softly and she shook her head.

“No. But someday, maybe.” She replied honestly and Nixon nodded empathetically as Dick squeezed her hand gently.

“Let’s get out of this rain.” He led the three of them back into the farmhouse, taking her straight to the washroom where he filled the basin with water. “Help or no?”

She paused a moment, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror left behind by the home’s original owners and Dick waited patiently until she turned back to him. “I can do it.” She replied softly and he nodded, closing the door to wait in the hall.

Nixon shuffled by carrying his pillow and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Give her my bed, I’ll take your crappy little cot.” He muttered, making his way to the attic before he even had the chance to reply.

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall, thoroughly spent by the events of the day, knowing he’d have to be up in just a few hours to face the rest of the paperwork on his desk.

“Dick?” Her soft voice startled him, making him realize he’d actually fallen asleep standing up, for just a moment.

Her lips twitched slightly with a hint of amusement, and he smiled slightly in return, nodding as she looked more herself despite the still-fresh injuries.

“This way.” He offered his hand and led her towards Nixon’s room, gesturing at the bed. “Gift from Lew.”

Her face softened, eyes glistening suddenly, reminding Dick just how fragile she still was. “Where is he sleeping?”

“Attic.”

“Then you need a bed too…” She replied as she crawled onto the mattress, sighing at the softness of the bedding.

“Oh, the floor is fine I…”

“Please hold me.” Her voice was small, her request simple and one that he did not need to hear twice to honor.

He unlaced his boots and removed his outer layers before crawling in with her, letting her curl up against him before sliding his arm around her carefully. “Comfortable?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Very.” She replied sleepily and he allowed himself to drift, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, letting sleep nibble at the edges of his consciousness.

“Dick?” She whispered and he snuffled awake quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Does it smell like pee in here?”

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

When I was at an internship near Chicago my friends and I took a day to take the train out there. We figured it would be better to spend a lot of time in one museum than try to bounce through several, so we went to the Chicago Art Institute. I got a little separated from my group and saw them a couple rooms away so I started hurrying to catch up while still trying to enjoy the exhibits. But then I entered the van Gogh display, and I gave up on catching up with them. I ended up spending a good 40 minutes in all of the photos and the emotion that they brought out in me and it was because of this scene. This show.

[morphean42]

The mystery of the second child

Now isn’t that delightfully dramatic! In the first instalment of The Marvin Trilogy, a few In Trousers songs mention the existence of another kid between Trina and Marvin besides Jason, and this post will offer a few explanations as to what this means. It got… long… so for the sanity of everyone here’s a read more

Explanation One:

This is the most boring one, and it is simply that William Finn wrote In Trousers, changed his mind while writing March of the Falsettos, and nixed the existence of any children besides Jason. The rewritten version of In Trousers, which came out in 1985, removed the songs in which Trina mentions another kid, and added songs like “Packing Up” and “I Have A Family” specifically reference only the existence of Jason, which is proof that Finn simply decided to retcon the idea of multiple children. While this is also most likely, I want to delve into reasons within the universe of The Marvin Trilogy for this inconsistency as well.

Explanation Two:

I don’t personally believe this one at all, but it’s worth stating: it’s possible there was a death in the family. Trina references ‘the eldest’ and ‘the baby’, and due to the fact that “Your Lips and Me (Reprise)” takes place once Marvin has left Trina for Whizzer, the eldest is arguably Jason. So, it’s entirely possible that the baby dies at some point between the end of In Trousers and the beginning of March of the Falsettos.

The problems with this? They don’t mention it at all in the show, and while it could be interesting to explore, the loss would have a profound effect on all the characters and it isn’t plausible to not be a major component of their arcs. Another problem correlated with this too is that In Trousers and March of the Falsettos overlap with each other, or at least occur very very close together. Whizzer and Marvin are together at the end of In Trousers, the baby is alive, and by March of the Falsettos (which personally I believe starts right after, quite literally weeks later), they’re dead? It doesn’t add up, even if the shows theoretically take place, at most, eight months from each other

Explanation Three:

One of the children is meant to represent Marvin. This solves the issue of the child existing at all, and due to the lyrics Marvin could metaphorically exist as either.

If Trina is referring to him as The Baby, then the lines ‘the baby is crying on the swingset’ and ‘the baby’s wailing’ could be references to how volatile and emotional Marvin can be. The swingset may be a correlation to the idea of a game that is so often used as a metaphor for sexuality and personhood in the trilogy.

If Trina is referring to him as The Oldest, then the lines ‘the oldest drinks wine’ and ‘the oldest is kicking ass’ could simply be jibes at the fact that he’s an adult who is acting as a child. Obviously, kids should not be drinking, and while they do get into fights, the other line could be a reference to less physical altercations such as the ones between Trina and Marvin.

Personally, this is my favourite solution, as it ties into “Trina’s Song” and “March of the Falsettos” with Marvin acting childish, especially in Trina’s eyes (which is the viewpoint of “Your Lips and Me”). However, depending on which child Marvin is supposed to be, one gets conflicting views of Jason. If Marvin is the oldest, then the lines referring to the baby can easily be attributed to him, but the other way works too. If Jason is the oldest, then the kicking ass could be in relation to chess, or misbehaviour in school, and the wine could be a metaphor for how old he acts despite his young age.

There aren’t cons to this theory, per se, besides the fact that I don’t think William Finn intended this interpretation as evidenced by the rewrites. The only problem is the later when Trina sings ‘so he kissed the two boys’ as Marvin leaves, directly stating there are two sons. I don’t know how to work around that line in this explanation, besides saying the other boy is some convoluted metaphor for Trina and Marvin’s ideal life.

Both Trina and Marvin live vicariously through Jason in ways, shown in “Year of the Child”, and are extremely invested in how he turns out. Of course, they’re parents, they want him to be a successful human being, but their flaws as parents are meant to show how they place unreasonable expectations on him, wanting Jason to be their perfect little kid, as well as an emotionally stable adult. In this way, the ‘two boys’ could be seen as both Jason and another fake son, a Jason that is everything all three of them fail to be. This hypothetical son could be a metaphor for heterosexuality, perfectionism, and the patriarchy, all of which Marvin is effectively leaving behind… that’s a bit of a stretch though, I’ll admit.

Explanation Four:

There could be another child in the family, but they simply aren’t relevant to the plot. This is boring and feels like a bit of a cop out, but could work to explain everything. Jason exists in the second two works in the trilogy due to his fears of becoming like his father, and also to explore Marvin’s character arc. At the core of it, Marvin needs to be a good dad before he can be (or start to be) a good person; the final song of March of the Falsettos is “Father to Son”, the whole point of Jason is to show how children are hurt within these familial disputes.

So, one could argue that if Jason is the eldest child and Trina has recently given birth to a baby, this baby would not factor into the plot as a character at all. He wouldn’t have a personality, wouldn’t contribute to Marvin’s arc as a father (nor the rest of the characters relationships), and having a prop baby on stage would just be difficult, so it simply doesn’t get mentioned.

Again, I don’t like this, because like the death theory, having a newborn or young child would impact the way these characters act with each other. Trina would feel more abandoned than she already does due to being left with a baby, and Jason would have to contend with not only losing his home structure by his father leaving but by no longer being an only child. It would be an interesting AU to explore, but doesn’t quite work in canon (in my opinion).

Explanation Five:

Trina’s views on her children are skewed. This is the most plausible besides three, I believe. Mothers often continue to see their kids as younger than they are, using language to reflect that, so it’s possible the baby is meant to be Jason, as she still thinks of him like that, and the eldest has left the home to go to college.

This works within canon as it would make sense not to reference another son when he’s theoretically very far away and grown up, at least partially. This eldest kid is not as affected by the events of the musical and therefore doesn’t need to be acknowledged by the characters who are presumably used to this absence in their lives, the oldest having been at college for some amount of time.

This also fits within my personal timeline, which places the events of Marvin leaving Trina to occur over the summer, so the line ‘he kissed the two boys’ makes sense, as the other son would be visiting home for summer.

However, there are obviously holes in this theory. Depending on how old Marvin and Trina are meant to be, they would have had a son in High School and be at least in their late thirties for the child to have grown up to college age. I think Trina and Marvin don’t reach late thirties or early fourties’ until after the end of Falsettoland, but that’s my own interpretation.

Another issue is, of course, why the oldest boy isn’t at Jason’s bar mitzvah. This is a pretty big deal, and you’d imagine he’d be invited back. One could argue that they celebrate the bar mitzvah in the hospital before the official date that was set, due to Whizzer’s illness, but personally I do think the bar mitzvah takes place on Jason’s birthday or at least whenever it was supposed to occur. Due to the timeline of the AIDS crisis, we know Jason’s birthday and Whizzer’s death have to happen in the fall or winter of 1981 (theoretically Whizzer could have died in the summer, but by July only eight or so men had been hospitalised due to what we now know were AIDS complications, so it’s unlikely he was with the very first victims in the summer). This means there aren’t any finals for the oldest kid, and if it had been important to the family he could have been brought home for the bar mitzvah.

These are simply my ideas, although the only one that truly makes complete sense is of course that William Finn just changed his mind. If anyone else has another theory I’d love to hear it!!