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#French Resistance agent
womensarts-blog · 11 months
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I ran away from home. I ran away from St. Louis, and then I ran away from the U.S.A because of that terror of discrimination, that horrible beast which paralyzes one's very soul and body.
-Josephine Baker, entertainer, French Resistance agent, civil rights activist ♀️
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elijones94 · 1 year
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✊🏾 “You must get an education. You must go to school, and you must learn to protect yourself. And you must learn to protect yourself with the pen, and not the gun.” ~ Josephine Baker (1906-1975) 🐆🇳🇱🇺🇸
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evilhorse · 8 months
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We’re talking about my sister, Peggy Carter—the girl you loved in World War II!
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ademella · 1 year
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currently reading
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qsycomplainsalot · 11 months
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Lindybeige is Either an Idiot or an Asshole
Most Likely Both
--There could be more flattering ways to put it, but he's never once given us that favor so why should I. His videos are wildly speculative and often based in cherry-picked British sources, when they come with any sources at all - see his masturbatory piece about the Bren vs the “Spandau”.
--There are two videos that I absolutely loathe at the edges of my youtube recommendations, both just filled to the brim with misinformation and logical contrivances. Videos that neckbeards will endlessly quote at me without question, taking a frustratingly long amount of time to untangle by which point they'd have usually lost interest already. The first one is Shadiversity's video about boob armor, the other is Lindybeige's video about the French Resistance.
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--This video will have you believe that the French Resistance on its own did nothing of worth, based in great part on the fact that De Gaulle glamorized its contribution to the war for political status. I cannot stress this enough, just because De Gaulle used the general idea of the Resistance to smooth over a lot of Vichy war crimes and restore national unity does not mean the Resistance did not exist as a capable fighting force. --The very first more specific argument he offers to support his view -if you ignore “ME AND ME PA FOUND THAT VERY FONNY”- is that most of the French armor was American-made and provided through the lend-lease policy, making French people less deserving of credit in winning World War 2. I assume that in his mind that would diminish the contribution of the French Resistance to war efforts, even though these tanks and armored fighting vehicles were used by the Free French Army, not the Resistance at any point of its existence, making the point moot while also conveniently ignoring that the United Kingdom received ten times the aid France did through that same program.
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--The image is from War Thunder because it makes for a better glamor shot than having it stand behind a museum fence or in black and white.
--His next argument implies that De Gaulle was "allowed" to walk in the liberated Paris ahead of Allied troops to give a speech that solidified the myth of the Resistance I mentioned. Again, in this passing, deceptive comment, Lindybeige implies that De Gaulle walked in after the fact and that Allied forces did the heavy lifting, only allowing him to do his speech a their convenience. Even a cursory amount of research will tell you that Paris was in fact liberated by the FFI, the Parisian people themselves and Leclerc’s 2nd Armored Division composed of Metropolitan and Colonial French with Spanish elements, supported only on the very last day by the US 4th Infantry Division and a special British unit sent to gather intelligence. --Following this, he quotes the speech De Gaulle delivered in front of the town hall the day the German garrison surrendered, but cuts it short of the part in said speech mentioning “the help of our dear and admirable Allies” to then call De Gaulle ungrateful, which I have a hard time believing could be anything but intentionally deceptive. He then goes on to claim that the French Resistance was not organized by De Gaulle but by the British, justifying the ludicrous claim with 'they didn’t tell him because French intelligence services were bad and would have leaked all of it’. This is of course ignoring the fact that De Gaulle had personally sent Jean Moulin back to France for the exact purpose of organizing the five big Resistance movements into one organization, which he did, creating the Council for National Resistance that played a major role in the liberation of Paris. How the British would have any hand in this may be explained by his further comments, where he goes on to say that agents of the organization preceding the MI6 had been infiltrated in the Resistance to organize it, which begs the question of who's responsible for it being a non-effective combat force if it had been the case. He then gives us a voice in a sarcastic tone by saying, “of course you and your British bias would say that !” but does not really address it. Because honestly yeah, you and your British bias would say that.
--After quickly rambling that there were too many people in France and not enough bushes for all people to join the Resistance, which I have to admit is an extremely pointed and pertinent thing to say in a video downplaying the efforts and suffering of thousands of people fighting back against Nazi occupation under constant threat of torture and execution if caught, he mentions that the German forced labor system had severely depleted France’s manpower of fighting age. He says that by 1944, only teenagers and decrepit middle aged men were left to fight in the Resistance, to the great disappointment of the British agents he mentioned earlier. According to him, this meant France lacked the manpower and the communication capability required to pull the Resistance off, which is again contradicted by the actions of Jean Moulin, who had seemingly managed to access both before his death.
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--There are a few problems with that argument. The Service de Travail Obligatoire, STO for short, was a system put in place by Vichy France to supply Germany with civilian manpower to make up for their own shortfalls due to the Eastern front. Because Vichy had negotiated a relative independence compared to other occupied country, its own government was responsible for the order, although it was in almost every point similar to forced labor orders in Denmark or the Netherlands. Now the STO did deprive France of over six hundred thousand young men, many of them skilled workers. However as an incentive given by the Nazis, every three forced laborer sent to Germany would lead to the release of one French POW, meaning that as far as manpower was concerned, France pretty much lost only four hundred thousand men and received qualified military personnel for its trouble. Not only is it hardly the manpower drain pictured by Lindybeige, it also ignores that many of these forced laborers, my grandfather included, immediately skipped work and joined either the Resistance or Allied military regulars after operation Overlord, as they were not as tightly surveilled as POWs and minorities in concentration/death camps. It also bears mentioning that it was teenagers, dismissed by Lindybeige as a negligible quantity, that acted as reconnaissance troops for the Free French using their motorbikes to scout and guide the way to the German Kommandantur. In any case, most members of the FFI integrated the regular French army after the liberation of Paris, meaning they were definitely of fighting age. Of course that whole argument is dropped as soon as he brings in British involvement, at which point he finally points out how the Resistance disabled most of the railway network and stopped the famously lightning-fast German army from facing the Allied invasion properly. For their role in this sabotage, a hundred fifty Resistance members working for the French national railway company were shot and another five hundred deported.
--To put it simply, Lindybeige dismisses the Resistance as a useless, wasteful and infighting group of functional morons, while every successful operation they carried out, every display of good mobility and coordination is attributed to British uniformed soldiers overseeing it. In reality most of that effort was done by either agents of the French government in exile or the Allied command under Eisenhower, with no account mentioning any significant autonomous British involvement which stands to reason as De Gaulle and Churchill could not stand one another. In fact Lindybeige tries to pass off operation Jedburgh as a purely British operation while it was specifically a joint one with American, British, French, Belgian and Dutch operatives all along the Atlantic coast.
--The next part is baffling. Lindybeige points at the Allies stopping their shipments of weapons to the French Resistance after July 44 and justifies it by saying the various cells were fighting each other and were uncoordinated. Thank god the Brits stopped sending arms or there would have been a civil war between these silly French Resistance members. Of course what happened in August was the liberation of Paris followed by the integration of the FFI into the new French army, which would go on to liberate the rest of the country. But Lindybeige pushes this civil war angle pretty hard, calling at this point of the video both Vichy France and the Resistance to be pro French in a way and underlining the conflicts between the two as a reason why the weapon shipments stopped coming, with examples such as Resistance members exacting reprisals against Nazi collaborators, which is a completely moot point because Vichy France and collaborators had nothing to do with the Resistance and were in fact, at this point of time, recognized as the enemy by all Allied forces, meaning acts of resistance against them would in no way prompt Allied command to stop supporting the French Resistance. Lindybeige goes so far as to say that the OSS and British secret service stopping the weapon shipments in August 1944 legitimately prevented an outright civil war between the different cells of the French Resistance, which was in actuality pretty unified in its support to De Gaulle at this point thanks to the efforts of Jean Moulin as discussed previously. This hardly gels with the events following August 1944, where the members of the Resistance and FFI were enlisted in the Free French Army and were therefore issued American military equipment and training to function as regular troops. Now stop me if I'm wrong but it appears that in Lindybeige's mind all French people were ready to tear each other apart until the British stopped sending them pipe guns, after which the Americans sent them tanks which obviously disabled their ability to start a civil war.
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--Two French colonial soldiers using a blend of Allied gear during the winter of 1944-45. They are presumably thinking of killing each other.
--Much like the Phantom Menace review this is addressing a piece of media were essentially everything is wrong, hence the length of this post. Lindybeige has obviously researched the topic to great length, then ignored half of it to record 17mn of vague, dismissive and unsubstantiated claim that each take an equal amount of time to debunk. He present the facts as if everything that happened on British soil was under British orders so as to make the French Resistance only effective on their accord, all the while disregarding the French government in exile and slandering the efforts of French people but also inadvertently of the Americans. It is my honest belief that this sad excuse of an historian is either profoundly lacking in literacy or actively trying to justify his xenophobia by bending WW2 historiography around his bias, and whatever it may be he should be deplatformed to avoid spreading more harmful and disrespectful lies about a group of brave men and women who fought to liberate their country from fascism.
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psalm22-6 · 11 months
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I present to you Les Miserables was stolen!, a 2003 French comic which "recounts a fictional and dramatic episode in the life of Victor Hugo."
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It begins with Victor's publisher Lacroix arriving in Guernesey, where Victor lives in exile, surveilled by agents of Napoleon III. Note that he has no beard.
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Everyday Victor follows the same routine while he finishes writing Les Miserables. Hmm....
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Tragedy strikes! He finds that his manuscript has been stolen! He rushes to Juliette Drouet's house and they discuss what could have happened.
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Could it have been someone with a personal vendetta? Or Napoleon III's secret police trying to surpress a revolutionnary text? Victor decides his only solution is to go to Paris and try and track down the thief. 'No' says Juliette, 'you'll be arrested!' But Victor has a disguise.
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Now with a beard, he heads to Paris where he enlists the help of his friends: Adele Hugo, Dumas, Lamartine, and Sainte-Beuve ("although he is my wife's lover, he is not necessarily my enemy").
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He needs a place to stay that no one will suspect so he goes in search of a woman he once helped.
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She is a sex worker named Fanny Fantin, the inspiration for the character Fantine -___- and she agrees to help him. A strange man comes around and starts asking for "Fantine." Victor concludes that whoever stole his manuscript, knowing that he had drawn inspiration from real life, is looking for "Fantine" in order to find him. (Don't think about the plot too hard.) Victor bribes Fanny's pimp to track down the man and Fanny lures him to her room where Victor is waiting. A struggle ensues.
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Fanny kills the man, saving Victor but they lose their lead. What's more, her scream attracts the attention of the police. Victor tells her to follow him onto the roof so that they can escape.
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As Fanny lays dying on the sidewalk, a gamin named P'tit Louis, who is friend of Fanny's, tells Victor to run but Victor cannot resist saying some final words to Fanny, who is surrounded by onlookers and police. He promises he will take care of her daughter. Her daughter? Yes. Victor was surprised to learn that she has a daughter who she had left in the care of a suspicious couple. Victor's words were so eloquent that as he walks away, something clicks in the mind of a police man, who had heard rumors that a certain author was in town.
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wtf is he wearing!! Anyways, Victor runs away. He gets a tip from the pimp that Hetzel, his old publisher, might have been trying to buy the manuscript off the murdered man so he and Dumas investigate.
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This is a dead end. They then go to retrieve Fanny's daughter, Sylvie. Victor pays off the couple who were keeping her.
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Victor wonders where he and Sylvie can hide. He tells Dumas that he thinks the thief will continue to track him via the plot of his novel so he decides he will go to the Petit-Picpus convent to try and catch the thief. The Picpus convent is a real place where ten years earlier Victor had been allowed to study their customs. The mother superior is reluctant to let them stay but when Victor reminds her of the isolated gardener's shack, she agrees. However!
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Who should arrive but Sainte-Beuve, asking if Victor is hiding there. The mother superior won't say anything. Sainte-Beuve tells her that Victor is wanted for murder (because of the man Fanny killed). The mother superior tells Sylvie to fetch Victor.
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Victor wants to know how Sainte-Beuve knew where to find him. Sainte-Beuve says that Dumas told him, before leaving for Italy (that's it, Dumas isn't in the story anymore.) 'Hmm okay seems reasonable' says Victor. Sainte-Beuve leaves. 'That was curious,' says the mother superior. 'When he saw Sylvie, he called her Cosette!' Hmmm... Cut to P'tit Louis. The pimp, the Thenardier equivalent character and their gang have tracked Victor to the convent and they want P'tit Louis to help them rob Victor, to avenge Fanny. However, P'tit Louis remembers that Fanny had once told him that not all bourgeoise are bad, for example, there is Victor Hugo.
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P'tit Louis tries to warn Victor but the nuns won't listen to him.
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Meanwhile, the police also arrive in search of Victor.
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P'tit Louis jumps the convent wall and helps Victor and Sylvie escape by the sewer. However, the gang is waiting for them there! P'tit Louis helps them escape the gang too.
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Victor and Sylvie take a carriage to Adele's house. Victor sees Adele leaving to go to Sainte-Beuve's. Victor follows her there and bursts in.
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Victor starts tearing Sainte-Beuve's house apart. 'I know you have my manuscript,' he says. Only the person who stole the manuscript would have known the name "Cosette."
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Adele can't believe that it is true. Sainte-Beuve hangs his head in shame. Victor is looking all over but he can't find it until...he notices that Sylvie is shivering. That's strange...why is it so cold in here!?
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In the stove, Victor finds his manuscript.
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Sainte-Beuve explains that Victor had everything he wanted for himself and so he wanted to get revenge. He had tried to burn the manuscript but it was so beautiful, he could never bring himself to do it. 'It wasn't enough to have taken his wife?' asks Adele and she slaps him. At that moment, the police arrive and take Victor to jail. Meanwhile. . .
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Napoleon III is informed of Victor's arrest but he orders that he be secretly returned to Guernesey to avoid a scandal. The police put Victor in a carriage. 'Where are we going,' asks Victor, 'why are we at Père-Lachaise?' They stop at a grave.
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It's a tombstone for Fanny Fantin, the immortal Fantine of Les Miserables. Who could have done this? Sainte-Beuve emerges from the shadows. 'You can't image the disgust I have for myself. This tomb bears witness to a regret that will not leave me.' 'All men are condemned to live with their mistakes,' Victor tells him. To wrap up, Adele and Victor try to convince P'tit Louis to come back with them but he wants to stay in Paris. Adele tells him to live at her house. The police officer tells Victor that he is just doing his duty by kicking him out of the country, but that he can't wait to read his book.
Victor and Adele arrive back in Guernesey with the manuscript and Sylvie. Juliette is waiting for them. 'What happened? Who is this?' Juliette asks. 'I'll explain everything,' says Adele. 'Now embrace me.'
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They embrace. 'Who would believe it?' asks Victor's friend. 'It's not me but the theft of my manuscript that has brought them together,' says Victor. He learns that Napoleon III has just granted him amnesty. which he of course refuses. Fin!
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happyk44 · 7 months
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actually annabeth joining luke's army as a double agent for chb but percy doesn't know this so he just thinks alright and grabs grover and hooks it over there bc annabeth does what she wants and he knows there's no convincing her otherwise bc she's a stubborn ass and also ares fucking sucks so as far as percy's concerned the gods can suck it based on that alone
grover is just ??? bc he does NOT want to be over here and percy's just like "look, we can't convince annabeth to not be part of monster army, so the only option is to be part of it ourselves" and annabeth walks in on them trying to join (or rather percy trying to join for both of them and grover looking on the verge of tears) and she's just ??? bc what the fuck percy why are you two here
whole time percy is going on a rant about ares and how he sucks and how he's pretty sure the god has abused clarisse ("maybe we should get clarisse to sign up with us") because no one believes that he wants to join luke's army and they just thinkk he wants to spy on them so he's trying to show that he thinks gods (well at least one god) is a total ass and can get obliterated and percy will be happy to do that bc he did it once before, he can totally do it again! and if they get clarisse she can deliver the final blow as an FU
someone asks why grover's there and percy is like "um. he's my best friend? he has to come with me? what, you think I'm gonna fucking fight my best friend? are you stupid?"
meanwhile grover is having the worst panic attack of his life. like why is this how he discovers percy has no morals. couldn't it be something smaller like putting french fries in a strawberry milkshake?
and annabeth is resisting the urge to start screaming and now she's gotta vouch for percy and her vouch for percy is basically "if it came to saving me and grover or a bus full of people about to plunge into the atlantic, percy would save us, no hesitation" and everyone's like "jesus christ, the hell is wrong with this kid" because like maybe they're on the side of a cannibalistic titan but they're not fucking evil
ofc once they're let into the group, annabeth drags them both to the side and wrings percy a new one for fucking up her double agent plans and they're both whisper-arguing bc it's not his fault he didn't know she didn't really shack up with the enemy, but like fuck off percy, you didn't have to follow me here! why the hell would you choose to come here, were you going to try and kidnap me and bring me back to camp by force??
and percy is just like "yes that is 100% what i was going to do, i was definitely not joining with the intent to be by your side and blow up olympus because i'd rather destroy the world than fight my friend" and grover turns to annabeth and is just "he's fucking lying" "yeah i know"
anyway grover is released as a double agent for the monster army (but actually for CHB) bc the idea is that he can help them get more demigods to their side as a searcher being sent out to grab kids and he's mentally banging his head bc NOW he has to figure out how to get unclaimed demigods safely to camp without making it look like he took them there on purpose and if it looks like he defected back to CHB, they'll probably kill annabeth and maim or imprison percy and good gods, percy i hate you so much rn
percy? idk. it's past summer so he just goes home and luke is like "bro you can't just fucking leave" "um no offense luke but if you try to stop me from going home to my mom who i love more than life itself i will legit eat you" and then he goes home
come december, grover is calling percy up like "hey i found these fucking powerful ass kids, plz help me get them to camp without making it look like i got them there on purpose" and so they gotta loop annabeth in who's just mentally banging her head and cursing percy out over this whole thing as she strategizes a way to get the army there but have them fuck up so badly it would look super suspicious if grover just shoved them over
so first she yells at percy then she makes grover call thalia up so she can help him and it'll be okay 'cause she's in the same area as him so it won't look suspicious, it'll just seem like camp sent her in with him, like they do sometimes when there's dangerous monsters that a satyr might not be able to handle by themselves.
and then she makes percy go with them as support for grover's "nefarious" deeds since thalia's there. and it's a whole fucking thing, and mentally she's just like "oh thank fuck" when artemis and the hunters show up.
they retreat back to wherever the monster army was at this time (not the boat, but like idk. atlas' post? were they all chilling there or was it just luke and some ppl being assholes and everyone else was still on the boat, i can't remember) and curse their loss of two powerful and clueless demigods, only for percy to call annabeth up a couple hours later like "hey, remember those kids from a couple hours ago with the manticore and the hunters and everything"
"percy it was two hours ago, ofc i remember it, my memory isn't as shit as yours" "right right, you're elephant" "oh my- why are you calling me!!" "oh yeah. uh. well. they're kinda in my house" "what??" "yeah they're sitting right across from me. my mom's giving them some hot chocolate."
"how the hell?"
"i have no clue. they also have no clue. they just, uh, didn't feel safe at camp, bc grover was being weird about trying to save them. which, um, yeah, makes sense. and they don't like thalia because her spear scares them 'cause they don't like lightning. and also the girl said the hunters keep trying to convince her to join them which is freaking her out, so they didn't want to stay at camp. and then suddenly they were in my house."
"..."
"what do i do?"
this time annabeth bangs her head physically on the closest wall. and somewhere in the fine forests of new york, grover is banging his head on the nearest tree, both of them unified in their feelings of "for fucks sake percy i hate you so much rn"
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yibocheeks · 1 year
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Historical Background for 《无名》 (Hidden Blade)
A very brief summary of historical details of note for understanding the context of the film:
The film is set during the Second Sino-Japanese War and WWII. There are several powers in play at this time: the Chinese Communist Party, the Chinese Nationalist Party or Kuomintang, and Imperial Japan. Imperial Japan invaded Manchuria (located in northeastern China) in the early 1930s and established the puppet state of Manchukuo. It was here where they hoped to establish a base from where they would continue their expansion into Asia.
In 1937, after many years of conflict, Japan occupied Shanghai, Nanjing, and Beijing. The Nanjing Massacre occurred at this time. After the fall of Nanjing, which had been the capital of the Republic of China at that time, the Kuomintang moved the capital west to Chongqing, under Jiang Jieshi's leadership. During this time, the Chinese Communist Party and the Kuomintang formed a temporary alliance, suspending the years of civil conflict between them, although their vie for power continued. The Chinese Communist Party set up their base in Yan'an.
In 1940, Wang Jingwei, who was once a member of the Kuomintang but had always been in opposition against Jiang Jieshi, collaborated with Japan to establish the Wang Jingwei regime. They claimed to be the leadership of the Republic of China, when in fact they were a puppet government of Japan, overseeing the Japanese-occupied territory in eastern China, under Japan's control. They established their capital in Nanjing and used the Kuomintang flag. The Axis powers recognized the Wang Jingwei regime, while the Allied powers still recognized Jiang Jieshi as the leader of the Republic of China.
From 1937-1941, Japan had left a few neighbourhoods in Shanghai unoccupied, because that was where the American-British joint settlement and French Concession were located. Many people fled to this area to live at that time. After Pearl Harbor in 1941, the entirety of Shanghai became occupied by Japan. Many cities were bombed during these years, including Guangzhou, which experienced bombings for 14 months in 1937-1938.
During this era of war, which is also called the War of Resistance in China, espionage networks were established to try to undermine the enemy. Hidden Blade tells a story about these individuals.
Characters in the film (spoiler-free):
Director He (Tony Leung): Director of the Political Security Department for the Wang Jingwei regime
Mr. Ye (Wang Yibo): A subordinate under Director He, works for the Political Security Department of the Wang Jingwei regime
Captain Wang (Wang Chuanjun): A captain working for the Political Security Department of the Wang Jingwei regime, under Director He
Minister Tang (Da Peng): Minister of the Political Security Department of the Wang Jingwei regime, Director He's cousin
Officer Watanabe (Mori Hiroyuki): Head of secret service in Shanghai, claiming to be a follower of Ishiwara's faction (Japanese general who believed in the Pan-Asianism ideology)
Mr. Zhang (Huang Lei): A secretary of the Chinese Communist Party's underground network
Ms. Chen (Zhou Xun): A messenger of the Chinese Communist Party's underground network
Ms. Jiang (Jiang Shuying): Kuomintang agent assigned to assassinate Minister Tang
Ms. Fang (Zhang Jingyi): Disguised as a dancer, she worked together with other progressive youth to try to assassinate Japanese officers
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lea-la-reveuse · 6 months
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So I was thinking about the new information we have concerning q!Etoiles' lore and my theory about the codes completely changed now. I wrote some quick notes and I'll think about it more later but god this is so exciting and I feel like lots of things that didn't make sense to me are clearer now!
my theory before :
- initially, the codes were experiments of the Federation, potentially failed attempts of the eggs? because I don't trust anything they say and I always had the thought in the back of my mind that the dragon story was invented to hide the truth, that the eggs are "spies" for the Federation, some very advanced AIs
- they were sent by the Federation to kill the eggs but it didn't make sense because why would they kill the eggs when they are the ones that gave them to the residents?
- the Federation seemed to deny their existence because they want to maintain a perfect island and they were an anomaly
my theory now :
- the codes are experiments of the secret resistance group, they are some sort of AIs but some of them are referred as "faulty", which could mean that they don't have access to as much resources as the Federation
- they do have enough resources to create codes though and they have to be quiet to not get caught so who is providing those resources? maybe some Federation employees that work as double agents?
- the codes are sent by this group to observe the residents (maybe they were commanded to kill the eggs to see how they would react?) and give them messages, they are intermittors (on the early days, I think they were giving messages saying that the residents had to leave the island? but I didn't follow since the very beginning so I'd have to verify that)
- the codes would take information about every resident and these observations were written in reports by group members (former Federation employees, people that were trapped on the island before?)
- the goal of gathering information like that was to choose who they thought might be a great addition to the group and it's starting now with Etoiles (or maybe other people were contacted before that I don't know about?)
in addition, the man that gave the password of the door to q!Etoiles is the same man that gave the Sofia blueprint to Maximus —> is that man a member? was Sofia a tool for the resistance group? by giving information about the island and the residents to Sofia, the resistance group was able to know the residents more and that's how they could also write the reports and test Maximus to potentially make him join?
anyways i can't wait to see how this arc evolves!
also, not really related but i'm sooo happy to see that the French are finally into the lore!! so much has been happening recently, even Kameto is back, i'm so so excited to see what follows!
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er1chartmann · 1 month
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Klaus Barbie
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These are some facts and curiosities about Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon:
He was born on October 25, 1913 in Godesberg.
In 1935 he joined the Protection Corps (Schutzstaffel), the SS, and was subsequently employed in the ranks of the SD, the Nazi secret service.
In 1937, as a member of the SS, he was officially registered with the National Socialist German Workers' Party.
He was assigned to the SD office in Amsterdam, occupied Netherlands, where he was responsible for the deportation of Dutch Jews. In Amsterdam he soon earned a reputation as a ruthless persecutor.
In 1942 he was transferred to Lyon: he became the deputy of Captain Heinz Hollert, the commander of a special unit (Einsatzkommando) responsible for crushing the French Resistance movements, and assumed command of Section IV, the investigative section involved in the search for Jews.
He was notable for the deportation of hundreds of Jews and the torture and physical elimination of hundreds more French patriots.
In September 1944, in anticipation of a possible Allied advance, he burned all the archives of the Lyon Gestapo, had a hundred people who knew of his activities killed and eliminated twenty-two agents who worked on his behalf and who had infiltrated the Resistance .[ Nothing is known about what Barbie did in the last ten months of the war: she literally disappeared from every document, from every archive, and even her personal file in the SS register does not provide any information.
In 1947, Barbie was recruited as an agent for the 66th Detachment of the U.S. Army Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC)
In 1965 Barbie was recruited by the West German foreign intelligence agency Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND) under the codename "Adler" (Eagle) and the registration number V-43118. 
Reviews of the 2007 documentary My Enemy's Enemy, directed by the British director Kevin Macdonald, note that it suggests Barbie helped the United States' CIA orchestrate the 1967 capture and execution in Bolivia of Che Guevara, a revolutionary who was active in Cuba and South America.
In 1984, Barbie was indicted for crimes committed while he directed the Gestapo in Lyon between 1942 and 1944. The jury trial started on 11 May 1987, in Lyon, before the Rhône Cour d'assises. 
On 4 July 1987, Barbie was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. He died in prison in Lyon of leukemia and cancer of the spine and prostate four years later, at the age of 77.
Sources:
Military Wiki: Klaus Barbie
Wikipedia: Klaus Barbie
I DON'T SUPPORT NAZISM,FASCISM OR ZIONISM IN ANY WAY, THIS IS AN EDUCATIONAL POST
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dcyllom · 3 months
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What's Your Name?
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Hey @lovememadly92, merry Christmas!! I'm your secret santa for the hbowar fic exchange! I'm sorry this is a few days late but I had some major technical difficulties with the Google Doc I was writing on which stopped me from posting earlier. There's also going to be another part to this that I'm still trying to recover, so I'm sorry for the wait 😅 🎄 
Request: one of the men falling in love with an SOE agent and vice versa for either enemies to lovers or friends to lovers.
Pairings: Lewis Nixon x OFC (Rosemary Young)
I hope you like this, Merry Christmas! :)
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A branch snapped. Rosie stiffened, glancing around the clearing she was in. There was a rustling to her left, perhaps ten metres away. 
A voice called out, shaky in the uncertainty of the night. “Flash!”
Rosie exhaled sharply, relief flooding her body before answering in kind. “Thunder.” There was a pause after she spoke, followed by hurried whispers, as the Americans she’d been addressing registered the feminine tone of her voice. 
She waited patiently. Branches were pushed apart as a face streaked with black appeared, eyes shining in the moonlight under thick brows. Rosie and the man stared at each other, before the quiet was broken by a nasal voice. 
“Hey Lieutenant, can we move out? My foot’s cramping.” The Lieutenant glanced behind him, one brow raised, before shifting forwards. Several khaki-clad figures holding rifles stepped out cautiously, all aiming their guns at her head. There were four of them, with eagles emblazoned on their jackets. 101st Airborne, then. Just who she was looking for.
Rosie spoke as reassuringly as she could. “Bonjour, les Américains. I am with the French Resistance, and have been ordered to aid the Americans with their landings for Operation Overlord. I have a message for your Colonel Sink.” She knew her French accent was impeccable, but she didn’t like how it made the man in front of her grin so smugly.
The Americans looked between each other for a moment. Rosie caught movement in her peripheral vision, seeing a young, clearly uneasy Private on the left of the rag-tag group of soldiers fiddling with the safety catch of his gun. The Lieutenant noticed her gaze move, and followed her line of sight.
“Put the damn gun down, Penkala. She look like a Kraut to you?”
Rosie let her shoulders relax as Penkala lowered the gun, and the Lieutenant strode forward, hand outstretched and smirking. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Lieutenant Nixon, intelligence officer with the 101st Airborne.” Well, that explained the smug grin. This officer had likely been briefed on the SOE agents who would be joining their little adventure back in England. He had a smooth, self-assured voice, and was clearly well-educated. He also happened to be quite handsome, and he looked like he knew it too if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by.
Rosie gripped his hand firmly and shook it, hoping the flush in her cheeks would go unnoticed in the low light. “Call me Thérèse. You are five miles from your drop zone, Lieutenant Nixon. I have been searching for your men and your Colonel for the better part of the night.”
“Well, mind telling us where we actually are, Thérèse? We’re in a bit of a hurry.” His tone was light, but Rosie heard an edge to it all the same. Her mouth thinned. 
“Take out your map, Lieutenant, and I will show you where you are.” Nixon looked a bit ruffled at the change in her attitude, but did what she asked all the same, pulling the scarf from around his neck. Rosie watched curiously as he shook it out, and then shone her flashlight on the silk to reveal a detailed map of Omaha and Utah beach, and the surrounding countryside. 
The other Americans crowded around them at the behest of their Lieutenant, and she pointed to a point just east of a little French village on the outskirts of Saint-Marie-du-Mont, the silk slippery under her finger. The Lieutenant swore under his breath, something Rosie privately thought the village of Pouppeville did not deserve. The words drawn from his superior’s lips also caused Private Penkala to look at him askance, twisting his shocked face to stare very hard at Rosie with beseeching eyes in what she assumed was supposed to be an apology on Nixon’s behalf. He needn't have bothered. Rosie’s good opinion of Lieutenant Nixon had not been very high to begin with anyway.
The trek to Drop Zone C, where the paratroopers she was accompanying were meant to have landed before hell opened up on them, was made quick by Rosie’s knowledge of the hedgerows they were skirting around. To his credit, Lieutenant Nixon did not question her competence as she led them through the Normandy fields, but he did tail annoyingly close, his arm brushing her shoulder occasionally. Rosie would’ve been tempted to stop abruptly so he would run into her back, if the commotion wouldn’t have put them at risk of alerting any nearby Germans. Rosie cast a look at Nixon, only to find him already staring at her and unnervingly close. But before she could do more than lift an eyebrow they heard noises from the hedgerow on the opposite side of the road they were on. 
Nixon held up a hand and the Americans were silent, watching, waiting, to see if they’d been spotted. Rosie crept forward, only to be stopped by a hand grasping her wrist. She gritted her teeth and wrenched her arm out of Nixon’s grip, moving silently across the road to lie in the ditch just in front of the hedge. Rosie reached behind her, aware of the brown eyes burning a hole in her skull, and pulled out her pistol before shifting forwards to peer through a small hole in the leaves. 
A few tired looking Wermarcht soldiers were walking along the path, talking quietly amongst themselves as they came back from what must have been a patrol.
She turned around slowly, meeting Lieutenant Nixon’s frantic eyes, and held up her fingers to show the number of Germans there were. The Lieutenant motioned something to her, but he was using US Army hand signals and was therefore being quite useless. She could see him mouthing ‘Thérèse’ at her, but she ignored him, throwing up a hand to halt any movement the Americans might make. She took aim, and fired, dropping the German closest to her with a neat shot to the head, before taking out the other two in quick succession. They barely even had time to shout in pain and shock, unaware of their fate due to the silencer attached to her pistol.
Only the crickets buzzing in the grass could be heard for a fraught second, before a loud “What the fuck!” came from the nasally soldier, who was apparently called Liebgott. Rosie slipped back to the Americans, stuffing her pistol in her pocket, only to be met by Lieutenant Nixon’s slack jaw.
His gaze became tense, hands flexing at his side. “Don’t take a risk like that again. Let us handle it. It’s our job.”
She stared at him. “It is also mine, and that I am far more experienced at this than you, Lieutenant. I would expect an intelligence officer to already know this, but apparently not. Now follow, unless you want me to leave you at the hands of the next Germans who decide to wander through here.” She walked away, leaving the disgruntled but mollified soldiers to trail in her wake towards the sounds and conversation of the American base.
Rosie earned a lot of sideways glances as she strode through the crowd of soldiers, with their harsh accents and loud voices. Eventually, however, just when she was losing hope that she’d ever find an officer amongst the men scattered around the Normandy village where they’d set up a base, Lieutenant Nixon surged forwards from behind her to greet a harried but kind  looking man who made himself known as Captain Hester, and Rosie was able to leave the aggravating Lieutenant behind in order to find Colonel Sink.
But, before she could slip into the crowd, a hand wrapped itself around her wrist once again and she was pulled back to face Lieutenant Nixon.
“Hey, Thérèse, before you run off–” He stopped as she attempted to rip her arm out of his hold, but he’d clearly expected this as he simply adjusted his grip as she glared at him.
“Before you run away, I wanted to say thanks.” Rosie stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak. For a moment, he didn’t speak either, just looked at her. “Your name’s not really Thérèse, is it?”.
Rosie’s answering smile was smug.
“What’s your name?” Nixon pressed.
“Call me Rosie, Lieutenant Nixon. My apologies, but I really must be going. I have a job to do,” and with that she slipped out of his loosened grip and darted through the mess of soldiers, dodging as she went and ignoring the shout from Nixon after her
“Hey, hey! Is that even your real name?!”
But Rosie had already vanished into the night.
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footprintsinthesxnd · 3 months
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Loving Her Was Red Moodboards
Lois Drake
Special Operations Executive (SOE)
Born and raised in England
Lois had been hurt far too many times to really trust men again but there was something about the handsome red-haired paratrooper that changed her mind. Maybe, just maybe this time love would be different.
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Dick Winters
Lieutenant and Companding Officer of Easy Company 101st Airborne Division
Dick never intended to fall in love, he wanted to concentrate on his training, his company and the war. That was until Lois Drake strolled into his life and completely changed his view on the world.
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Kate Blythe
Special Operations Executive (SOE)
Kate is Lois’ best friend. She is fully of life, fun loving and wears her heart on her sleeve. Despite Lois being far more reserved they get on like a house on fire. Kate’s keen eyes soon catch sight of Donald Malarkey who soon wins over her heart too.
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Raoul Ambroise
French Resistance
Raoul is partnered with Lois and Ray for Operation Jedburgh. They parachute into occupied France on D-Day to assist the allies. His family were murdered by Nazis and his wife was taken prisoner by the Nazis.
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Ray Clarke
American Agent
Ray is partnered with Lois and Raoul for Operation Jedburgh. They parachute into occupied France on D-Day to assist the allies. Ray has a sweetheart, Barbara, waiting for him back home.
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girlactionfigure · 1 year
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Resistance Fighter – Nancy Wake
She killed a Nazi with her bare hands.
Nancy Wake was a gutsy journalist from Australia who became a leader of the Allied resistance and killed a Nazi with her bare hands.
Born in New Zealand in 1912, Nancy was raised in Sydney. She ran away from home at age 16 and went to London, where she became a self-taught journalist.
As a young woman, Nancy described herself as someone who loved nothing more than a “good drink and handsome men, especially French men.” In 1930 she married Henri Edmond Fiocca, a wealthy French industrialist.
During the 1930’s Nancy worked for Hearst newspapers as a European correspondent. Stationed in Vienna, Nancy witnessed the rise of Nazism. She was shocked to see roving gangs of Nazis beating up Jews, and never forgot the sight of Jews chained to massive wheels and rolled through the streets. She later said, “I resolved there and then that if I ever had the chance I would do anything to make things more difficult for their rotten party.”
Nancy became a courier for the French resistance. Speaking perfect French, she worked with the “maquis” – guerrilla bands of resistance fighters. After Germany invaded France, she helped Allied POW’s and other personnel escape the country.
The Gestapo called Nancy the “White Mouse.” They tapped her phone and intercepted her mail. Nancy’s life was in constant danger.
Nancy described her method of avoiding detection by the Germans: “A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I’d pass their German posts and wink and say, ‘Do you want to search me?’ God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was.”
Nancy led repeated attacks on Gestapo headquarters. By 1943, she was the most wanted resistance fighter, with a 5 million franc price on her head.
After Nancy’s maquis network was betrayed, she fled France. Her husband stayed behind, and he was captured, tortured and killed by the Gestapo. Nancy, on her way across the Pyrenees to Spain, was unaware of her husband’s death until after the war.
In 1944, Nancy parachuted into France. Her assignment involved collecting and distributing arms and equipment that were sent in by parachute. Nancy was a highly successful recruiter, and is credited with bringing 7500 fighters into the resistance.
From April 1944 until the liberation of France in August 1944, Nancy’s band of maquisards fought 22,000 German soldiers, causing 1400 casualties while sustaining only 100 of their own.
At one point, Nancy killed an SS guard with her bare hands to stop him from raising the alarm during a raid. She later described how she did it, “They’d taught this judo-chop stuff with the flat of the hand at SOE [special operations training] and I practiced away at it. But this was the only time I used it – whack – and it killed him all right. I was really surprised.”
Another time, Nancy’s wireless operator was shut down in a German raid, and she rode her bicycle over 300 miles through German checkpoints to deliver the secret codes.
After the war, Nancy was awarded the United States Medal of Freedom, the Medaille de la Resistance, and the Croix de Guerre, among many other honors.
Nancy continued to work as an intelligence agent. She married a Royal Air Force officer in 1957 and for the next several decades they divided their time between London and Australia. Nancy’s autobiography, The White Mouse, was published in 1985 and became a bestseller.
Nancy’s husband died in 2001, and she returned to London permanently. She lived at the Stafford Hotel near Picadilly, her expenses largely paid for by the hotel’s owners, who were honored to host a renowned heroine. She could be found every morning at the hotel bar, drinking her first gin and tonic of the day.
Nancy died in 2011 at age 98. Her remarkable story has been the subject of multiple biographies and television mini-series.
For fighting the good fight against the Nazi war machine, we honor Nancy Wake as this week’s Thursday Hero.
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lizzybeth1986 · 6 months
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Saffron Sugar, Turmeric Spice
Book: Perfect Match
Pairings: f!Hayden x poly m!MC (Basil Park), f!Hayden x f!OC (Nilukshi Sigera). Implied Sloane x MC.
Summary: Sage and Basil have been in an open relationship since that moonlit chat in Berlin. He's a free agent - so is she. It's an arrangement she's grown to love...but is Sage ready to to fall in love with more than one person?
Word Count: 3,720 words
Note: I mention a comet named "Comet Hasegawa" in the second part of the fic. This is a fictional comet modelled on Comet Nishimura (C/2023 P1) which was spotted this month and won't be seen for another 400+ years.
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Old Fashioned Ice Cream, the sign reads, a fairly-large four leaf clover gracing the right corner. Mashti Malone's is practically an institution here in LA - with its pastel interiors and its quaint, old-world charm and the heady, rich, floral scents of Persian bastani. Sage can't resist taking in a deep breath everytime she enters this place. Although today...today she does it less for the pleasure of all these sweet scents, and more about keeping herself calm.
It feels like only yesterday that Basil brought her here for the first time, two years ago. To will away a bit of their nervousness about catching hold of Winona Johnson, he'd said.
And it did help. Every fear they'd had that she would laugh in their face, would throw them out, would never even listen...all of it melted away when the delightful coldness of French Lavender ice cream hit her tongue. Basil had playfully swiped a tiny spoonful of his orange blossom scoop on her nose. You could almost taste the promise of so, so many honeyed nighttime kisses in their laughter that day.
Mashti Malone has been their most-visited place in LA, ever since. Sometimes with the Candy Bombs (Damien, Alana and Khaan still grimace collectively at the name), sometimes with Sloane and Kim. But more often than not, it's just the two of them. Her spending an extra three minutes at the counter, taking in the rainbow-range of colours and gleefully tasting samples; him sitting back on his chair to watch her, ice cream sandwich in hand and a twinkle in his eye.
This is a place Sage never tires of exploring, and she always leaves it with a different flavour. It was Persian cucumber the last time, a burst of freshness that soothed and invigorated her sense all at once. And before that, the crystal glow of rice noodles against creamy, rose-scented vanilla, their signature faludeh. And way before that, the treacly unctuousness of date ice cream, so rich she had to take a full pint home.
Basil's order has always remained the same. Bastani Sonnati, offered to him the minute he shows his face at the door. From time to time they take bites of each other's ice creams; the smell of saffron and rosewater is familiar, and divine. This man sticks to his favourites - a principle he applies only to food, Sage thinks to herself, giggling quietly.
Today she finds herself in need, desperately, of the sunny-hued comfort of Basil's bastani. She wants to crack the wafers of the sandwich open, watching as the ice cream stretches and pulls apart. She wants to breathe in the floral scents of rose and saffron, feel the pistachios break in a satisfying crunch between her teeth. At this point when she wants to tell Basil her wish to explore the unknown, she finds herself seeking the comfort of the familiar. So she orders her own Bastani Sonnati.
"Baby," There's a teasing fondness in Basil's tone, as if he knows she has something in her mind that she's struggling to tell. "Something's up. You haven't said a word since we've got here."
Warmth creeps up her neck. Basil knows her too well for a man she's been dating for just two years.
"Um." Sage begins, fake-clearing her throat, " remember that time you and Sloane went to DC to visit Kim, and I took up that rock climbing tour at The Gunks?"
Basil grins. "Yeah...six months ago, right?" She nods as he continues to speak, finishing off the last of his wafers. "That may have been the first time I heard you gushing about Dr Madison Eckhart, but it sure as hell wasn't the last."
She smiles and mock-punches him on the arm, shaking her head as he steals a bite of her bastani sandwich. "You would, too, if you'd seen her normally sweet mouth come up with the most creative ways to shade a cocky guy," Sage tells him, giggling at the memory before she mimics Dr Eckhart's lilting but remarkably steely voice, "Get your head out of your armpits and listen to what I'm saying for once, Greg you asshole!"
For a minute, she almost forgets what she was intending to say, simply basking in their shared laughter. But then the strongest memory she has of that excursion resurfaces - silken brown hair whipping around a weatherbeaten face...almost like a reel in her head that she has watched too long on loop - and the warmth climbs up her neck again.
"So...uh. I met someone there."
"Oh?"
Basil tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows raised in an expression of mild interest. She searches his face for any traces of doubt, or judgement, or jealousy, and finds nothing but curiosity and...a brief flash of excitement? Either he's a very good actor or what she's clearly about to say doesn't sound as transgressive to him as it has to her.
She's been worried that he'd ask her - like he did two years before when she'd moved to her own flat - if her feelings for him have changed. Whether she's lost interest. Basil has identified himself as polyamorous for years, and she and Sloane have had his version of "The Talk" more times than they could collectively count. Don't be ashamed of wanting to be with other people. Openness is key. Honesty is key.
Back then they'd listened carefully, sincerely, but neither understood why any of that needed to apply to them. Sage and Sloane will always love Basil - for all he is and for all they've learned from him - but personally, they could never envision any sort of future with anyone else. And that was fine.
But now Sloane has started to show a sliver of interest in Alana, and as for herself...well.
"Earth to Sage." Sage can barely hear Basil's soft, laughing voice over the clamor of her own thoughts. It sounds like heaven, now more than ever.
All through this little trip, Sage had taken care. Touches. Kisses. The nicknames they use only on each other. An admission like the one she's making today could be taken the wrong way...and never, never, not even in a million years - not even after they are dust particles and rusted metal beneath six feet of earth - would she want Basil to ever believe the impossible. That her love for him would stop.
She puts what remains of her ice cream sandwich down, and steals a glance at him. Crinkles of laughter around his eyes, a corner of his mouth tugged upwards. A corner she will always want to kiss.
So he does know. He does trust her.
"There's a picture of her from that trip," Sage says, biting back her own smile, "You wanna see?"
"Mmm," he puts a hand over hers. "but let's get home first."
The trip back to Nadia's friend's place takes fifteen minutes but feels like hours, and they both drop with a thud on the couch rather than actually sit.
Sage has to slide the lockscreen upwards to unlock her phone. They both share a secret smile: the picture on the lockscreen is a silhouette of two people kissing, against the backdrop of a moon so abnormally large and golden that you would assume it was photoshopped in, if you didn't know what supermoons were. Only they (and Sloane, who gleefully clicked this picture just minutes before Sage took a similar one of her and Basil) know that it was real, that it was taken last year, that it's them. In this cozy, slightly messy sitting room - much like the one they own at home - Basil's hand moves from the small of Sage's back to cup her shoulders, and his head leans against hers.
The picture she shows him doesn't seem like much: a young woman, long brown hair loosely tied back, her dusky skin taking on a golden glow from the light of the afternoon sun. She's still wearing her climbing gear, her helmet on the rock beside her, her smile both tired and full of mischief. It reminds Sage of the very first time she looked at the woman - windswept hair whipping around her face before she tied it up and put on her helmet - and fell head over heels in love.
Sage had felt the gut punch of that realization the minute their eyes met - knew it was love with a terrifying certainty that was at once not at all like the way she fell for Basil, but also exactly like that.
Basil studies Sage's face for longer than he looks at the picture, his smile soft and knowing. "What's her name?" he asks as she flips through her gallery in search of other pictures, lacing the fingers of her other hand with his own.
"Nilukshi," She finds what she's looking for - a picture of the both of them against the backdrop of a stage. Sage sitting over a crate strumming guitar, Nilukshi singing, her hands spread out and her feet apart, her face a portrait of pure joy. Even here, in this quiet, cozy living-room sofa, far from the chaos of that stage, Sage relives the moment she realized they were both auditioning for the same play, just two weeks after that excursion. How their eyes locked for several skips of a heartbeat once they were done. "Small scale production for Rent. We were jamming on Seasons of Love backstage."
He chuckles. "Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes...how do you measure, measure a year." His voice is pitch perfect, as usual, and Sage has to bite back the urge to finish the verse with "Measure in love, sweet love". This is not the right time for an impromptu acapella.
But he turns serious a minute later, adjusts himself slightly to face Sage. His brows furrow in that way they do when he asks a question they both know will have answers that scare the shit out of you. "Does she know you're..."
"Yeah. I told her about Eros. It...didn't go as badly as I thought."
He sighs in relief. "Does she know about us?"
"Yep." It was funny how that was the harder conversation to have. Nilukshi's face had been studiously blank when Sage told her about her boyfriend, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. At least for the first five minutes. But the words "open relationship" loosened her up for some reason, and suddenly her gorgeous, long, artist's fingers were stretched out in front of her, eyes laser-focusing on them as if checking out her brand new manicure was the most important task in the world. Cool, she'd said, her voice almost squeaky, cool.
Basil's other hand lightly rubs her arm, encouraging Sage to sink into his embrace. "Did you only realise you wanted to date her now?"
She shakes her head, flushing. "I wanted to believe it was just a crush, not gonna lie. I just didn't think having my feelings returned was possible till now."
He frowns, almost like he's going to say it isn't like you to lack confidence in your charms, Sage. "Why not?"
Sage sighs, slowly inching forward and kissing a corner of his mouth. She looks down, training her gaze over their fingers tangled together.
It hasn't been easy, reliving the last five months of pining and awkwardness and just...the tendency to get ten times clumsier in Nilukshi's presence. Or reliving the last five months of tension and worry and (maybe misplaced) guilt, hoping against hope that she wasn't doing her relationship with Basil an injustice by getting even one step of this revelation wrong. But she'd still do it all over again - for him and for Nilu. For the two people who own her whole heart, the one that doesn't even physically exist in her body.
"Didn't think she'd be interested. Thought it would be a thing I'd tell myself to get over at some point. I'd have told you straightaway the moment I thought I stood a chance." Her eyes are darker and more shadowed as she raises them to meet his. "I did okay...didn't I?"
She feels the rumble of soft laughter from against her as he pulls her closer. "Oh honey. You did better than just okay." Sage sighs softly against his mouth as he draws her closer. "You were perfect."
His hands cup her face, his nose nudges softly against her own, making her giggle. The flavour of the ice cream they'd just shared half an hour ago lingers on his tongue. A bouquet of saffron and rose and clotted cream, coating her palate and making her feel like she is lying on a bed of flowers, sunlight streaming in rays of butter-yellow down her hair.
--
Two weeks later
Nilukshi is here before time at Brooklyn Bridge Park: binoculars, mat, amateur astronomy 101 booklet, backup garbage bags and snacks at hand. Chose tonight because of the new moon, she whispers excitedly. Even in the pitch dark, Sage can see her eyes light up as she approaches.
Comet Hasegawa is best seen in the early hours before dawn, where the sky is dark and unfettered by the thick veil of New York smog, preferably with no moonlight to obscure the intense glow of the stars. It was discovered only last month, by the Japanese scientist it was named after, and they have just this month to capture it in its full, emerald-green glory. This Saturday is the last time it will appear in the night sky. It'll take another 500 years for anyone on Earth to ever catch sight of it again.
Sage knows this because Sloane told her. Because Sage and Basil may have joined her in her backyard stargazing sessions, her trips to the planetarium, taken turns gazing into her humble home telescope just for the smile that lights up her face afterwards...but somewhere along the line they started to look forward to stargazing. Cherish it. Treasure it. It had become their thing.
Nilukshi had stared blankly at Sage the first time she'd yapped on and on about space - something stupidly jargon-y bullshit about Mercury's greatest elongation and seeing Jupiter at opposition. It got so embarrassingly obvious that she was confusing her crush that she'd apologized and backed away, whispering to herself since when did you become such a fucking nerd, Sage!
Nilukshi knows the basics. Orion. Meteor Showers. Total solar eclipses that make the sun look like an enlarged diamond ring; a nighttime sky at noon. She's the kind that would sit out even the major astronomical events because she's so used to city skylines veiled in smog. She, of all people, wouldn't have the time to squint at the night sky searching for constellations and planets.
And...and she set this up. Probably looked up this month's (maybe even this year's) calendar of astronomical events on Google, checked out amateur stargazing clubs, did her research, figured out the perfect timings, the perfect place, even the perfect gear. Chose a suitably dark night where they would need only binoculars. Sage has been through enough of these kinds of trips to know how much work goes into one like this.
And the way she sneaks glances at Sage, from underneath those impossibly long eyelashes of hers, you could tell that the success of every minute of this picnic will hinge on what Sage's own face gives away.
Nilukshi did this. For her. Dove headlong into this...this thing that she barely knew much about before they met, for her.
Goddamit. It should be criminal for that hum beneath her skin - the one that usually tells her that everything in her body is in tip-top shape - to keep running this...this normally. Not when her brain and her soul and her (mechanical) heart feel so out of whack.
Ignorant of the way Sage's thoughts are running riot, Nilukshi rummages through her backpack, not stopping until she takes out a ziplock bag filled with crispy, yellow, star-shaped snacks.
"Koki," her teeth gleam in the darkness. "Amma made these for me when she came over to visit last week."
Sage nods. She remembers Mrs Sigera from the first time she'd come with Nilukshi to the backstage area of the theatre, meeting the cast, clicking poloroids of them all on her cute pink FujiFilm. Sage can almost imagine Nilukshi's features maturing out to look exactly like her mother's when she reaches that age - warm brown skin with faint lines showing, fine crinkles around those wonderful brown eyes, streaks of grey peppering her dark wild hair. She shouldn't hunger for that sight the way she does now - the way she did when she first imagined Basil and Sloane and herself, rocking gently on armchairs, their wizened gnarled hands on her still-youthful ones, watching sunsets - but she does. She does. She wants all of those images to combine and become the truth of her future.
The rice cookies break apart in a satisfying crunch against her teeth, before dissolving into a sweet-savoury blend of coconut milk, and turmeric, with the slightest hint of red chili. The turmeric is perhaps the most prominent flavour - peppery and bright, slightly bitter and earthy and balanced out perfectly with a bit of sugar. If she were to guess, it's the turmeric that gives the koki its distinctive yellow glow, pretty much the way saffron stains Basil's favourite bastani this exact golden hue.
They sit together in a silence that feels both comforting and way too heavy, pretending to focus instead on the emerald glow of Comet Hasegawa, Earth's guest for only a few days before it disappears for another half-millennium. Sage points to the constellation of Leo it passes across; they both smile, recalling the surprise birthday party Dr Eckhart and her team threw, mid-August, for Nilukshi at their rock climbing gym. The comet looks like a streak of glow-in-the-dark phosphorus paint, brushed against the canvas of the sky.
Nilukshi has packed more food than that - maybe too much for this trip - but it's the kokis Sage keeps coming back to, their sweet-saltiness and that mild nuttiness that likely comes from the sesame seeds hidden beneath the surface. She eats slowly, conscious of Nilukshi's expectant gaze.
"Man," Sage whispers, "I could eat my body weight in these, they're so good. Don't tell your mom."
Nilukshi tears her gaze away from her, swallowing as she gazes again at the comet. "Amma only makes them for special people in our lives...and we don't have that many. She'd be pissed if I gave those kokis to anyone else..."
If Sage had any ability to think before she said that, it disappears completely when she hears what Nilukshi says next. "...if I didn't give them to the girl I've fallen so hard for." Fuck. Fuck. Holy shit. She'd been hoping and wishing and terrified of this moment and now it's... "The girl I want to spend the rest of my life with."
Nilukshi says the last one in a terrified whisper. She looks down now, at the grass. Her fingers tremble as they fiddle with a loose thread on the mat.
"Since when?" Sage can barely breathe.
"Since the minute Dr Eckhart dragged Greg Jones' arrogant, trip-sabotaging ass, and then someone let out a belly-laugh that made me think it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard."
Slowly, swayingly, as if they're both in a dream, Sage inches herself towards her, whispering her name like it's a prayer. Balances herself on her knees, cupping her left cheek, making her look up so Sage can bask in the mixture of desire and fear in her eyes. Her fingers have combed through Nilukshi's hair often enough in her dreams that their softness against her fingertips feels like coming home. Sage feels Nilu's breaths turn shallow as she traces a line of kisses, from temple to jawline to corner of mouth, before covering lips thinner than her own. But the moment Sage's tongue brushes hers, Nilu sighs and almost sinks into her. As she is ready to be absorbed into the pores of Sage's skin, if that's what it takes to get closer.
On Nilukshi's tongue she tastes the creaminess of coconut milk and the slightest dusting of sugar, the light heat of the chili powder and the welcome, golden bitterness of turmeric. She tastes like heaven.
Sage can't bear to move away - even as their lips part - so she keeps her forehead against Nilukshi's and her hands buried in her hair.
"You too?" Nilukshi breathes.
"Goddamit, Nilu. Since the minute we met."
"What about..." Nilukshi flushes and looks away.
Sage understands perfectly, smiles softly at her. "Basil knows. He'd probably cuss me out if I didn't stop moping over you and actually do something about it. I bet he'll get along with your mom like a house on fire."
Nilukshi lets out a watery giggle, then gasps as they stop talking altogether. They kiss again, and again, and again, moaning as Nilukshi catches Sage's lower lip with her teeth, as Sage grabs fistfuls of her dress so she won't fall over.
In the sky above them, Comet Hasegawa is close to completing its journey across the constellation of Leo, ready to continue its path across the universe and out of the solar system. Neither Sage, nor Nilukshi, nor any of the people Sage has loved or will ever love in the future, will see such a sight again in their lifetime.
In their minds, that comet has already passed, already streaked its way through their orbit and faded in relevance. All that remains is starlight and quick gasps and hushed kisses and the taste of spicy-sweet kokis.
Tomorrow, Sage promises herself. She and Nilukshi will need to talk, once this afterglow has faded and they have to think about the reality of their situation.
This is a first for Nilukshi, just as the relationship with Basil had been a first for her. Like Sage, there are going to be things that will scare Nilu. And like Basil, Sage will need to take on the lead a bit. Will need to ask the right questions, say the right words to reassure her, read her body language and listen to her voice and understand at least a little of what Nilukshi's boundaries are. Will need to ease her into the realization that as long as they're honest, as long as they trust each other...this will be okay. They will be okay.
Sage breathes in the smell of fresh grass and rice-coconut cookies, smiles at the stray thought of Basil looking at her, with that proud grin, raising his mug of coffee to her like he's making a toast. Baby, you did perfect.
Tomorrow, Sage promises herself, as the comet they came to watch slowly inches its way, half-seen, out of their orbit. There will be other starlit nights, other fantastic things to see and experience together. They will have so much of tomorrow left to savour.
For tonight, the kisses they share will be magic enough.
--
References:
Basil is my polyam MC, and he dates everyone in the group. Sloane and Sage, too, wind up having other relationships and the three of them live together in the current timeline of this fic. Sage is the Adventurer Hayden (Mysterious, Rebellious, Humourous and Impulsive) but she sometimes showcases opposing traits due to the Double Ripple Effect.
Mashti Malone - A Persian ice cream shop, v popular in LA. I used this video about them as a reference
Bastani - Iranian ice cream which is golden and made with saffron, rosewater and pistachios. Bastani Sonnati is the same, sandwiched between wafers.
Faludeh - A traditional Iranian cold dessert similar to a sorbet. It consists of thin vermicelli-sized noodles made from starch in a semi-frozen syrup containing sugar and rose water.
Koki - An all-time favorite Sri Lankan deep-fried snack made specially during festivals such as Sinhalese and Tamil new year, weddings, and ceremonies. The basic Kokis batter is made of rice flour, salt, turmeric powder, and coconut milk.
Sage's lockscreen in this fic (of Basil and Sage's silhouettes against a supermoon), is a reference to the next fic I'm writing, Harvest Moon
Yes the Dr Eckhart I mention here as the rock climbing professional trainer is Madison from The Freshman. I HC that she went on to do her PhD in Volcanology and runs adventurer courses. 😄
Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW, and @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 for Day 14: Poloroid Picture/Clicking special photos of S/O(s) and @choicespride for Bisexual Awareness Week
Tagging @haydenyoungappreciationweek and @sazanes for HYAW 2023 for Day 2: Relationships
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racefortheironthrone · 8 months
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What was Captain America's attitude to German soldiers in WWII? Obviously he despised anyone who was actually a Nazi, but what about just ordinary soldiers?
That's a very good question!
Because of who he was, Captain America had an unusally broad experience of WWII compared to other soldiers in the U.S Army.
As a super-soldier and leader of the Invaders, he spearheaded the Allied effort against super-scientists like Zemo and Zola, HYDRA agents like Strucker and the Red Skull, and Nazi super-soldiers like Master Man, Baron Blood, Warrior Woman, U-Man, etc. Moreover, the Marvel Universe version of WWII significantly differs from real-world history in that both American and Russian super-soldiers were involved in the Battle for Berlin that ended with the Human Torch turning his fire on Hitler himself.
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As a special forces officer, he served in conventional front-line and behind-the-lines operations (often with the Howling Commandos) in the European theater from Anzio and Monte Cassino to the Normandy landings, Arnheim, the Battle of the Bulge, the crossing of the Rhine, and the liberation of Diebenwald; in the African theater from Tunisia to Wakanda; and even in the Pacific Theater, although there he was mostly doing intelligence and special operations work rather than front-line service.
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As the symbol of the American war effort, however, Rogers was dispatched to fronts that American soldiers were usually not engaged in, whether that's fighting with the French Resistance, or being dispatched to the Eastern Front to demonstrate America's commitment to the USSR and counter Nazi super-science and super-soldiers sent to break the stalemate at Stalingrad.
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Between his broad wartime experience and his experience with HYDRA sleeper agents after the war, I don't think Steve Rogers is much of a believer in the "myth of the clean Wehrmacht."
At the same time, he's also not a believer that there was something inherent about German culture that made it vulnerable to fascism and Nazism - indeed, Cap is very insistent that fascism can happen anywhere and must be fought everywhere:
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