#she knows German and French natively

[unhingedselfships]

So. Ishin!Kimi. Let's talk.

So at first I struggled to figure out how this lil American dumbass ended up in Japan.

She didn't. I'm stupid. 1860s Kimi is European. German father, French mother. Merchants for ease sake. She ended up tagging along on a trade trip. Buuut her dumbass got lost and didn't make it back to the boat for days. Long enough in fact, that they had to give her up for dead and leave. Poor Kimi. XD

So here she is, stranded in a foreign country, speaking 5 languages that are not even close to the right one. She manages to pick up bits but for the most part, is lost, confused, and distressed.

By some accidental hijinks I haven't decided on/thought about, she ends up saving the life of someone v important. (Tokugawa? Probably.)

This leads to her being moved in and kept staying as a pet guest.

She tries to help out and do things but is mostly waved off. She does introduce new sweets/snacks. And uses her one talent (I do not have IRL, let me have this ok XD) to indicate when the foreigners are being shittier than normal. Its quite awhile before she picks up enough Japanese to be specific, but she at least learns ways to express threats/etc.

She has a very blatant unsubtle crush on Okita that he gives her a ton of shit for at every chance. Not that she understands. She's just flustered and embarassed. He has more than once sensually recited dumbass shit like rice ball ingrediants or math equations just to fuck with her.

[lollobarcollomanonmollo]

women artists that you should know about!!

-Judith Leyster (Dutch, 1609-1660)

During her life her works were highly recognized, but she got forgotten after her death and rediscovered in the 19th century. In her paintings could be identified the acronym "JL", asually followed by a star, she was the first woman to be inserted in the Guild of St. Luke, the guild Haarlem's artists.

-Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian, 1593-1656)

"... Si è talmente appraticata che posso osar de dire che hoggi non ci sia pare a lei, havendo fatto opere che forse i principali maestri di questa professione non arrivano al suo sapere". This is how the father Orazio talked about his nineteen year old daughter to the Medici's court in Florence.

In 1611, Artemisia got raped, and she had to Undergo a humiliating trial, just to marry so that she could "Restore one's reputation" , according to the morality of the time. Only after a few years Artemisia managed to regain her value, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples and even in England, her oldest surviving work is "Susanna and the elders".

-Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun (French, 1755-1842)

She was a potrait artists who created herself a name during the Ancien Règime, serving as the potrait painting of the Queen of France Marie Antoinette, she painted 600 portraits and 200 landscapes in the course of her life.

-Augusta Savage (Afro-American, 1892-1962)

Augusta started making figures when she was a child, which most of them were small animals made out of red clay of her hometown, she kept model claying, and during 1919, at the Palm Beach County Fair, she won $25 prize and ribbon for most original exhibit. After completing her studies, Savage worked in Manhattan steam laundries to support her family along with herself. After a violent stalking made by Joe Gould that lasted for two decades, the stalker died in 1957 after getting lobotomized. In 2004, a public high school, Augusta Fells Savage Institute of Visual Arts, in Baltimore, opened.

-Marie Ellenrieder (German,1791-1863)

She was known for her portraits and religious paintings. During a two years long stay in Rome, she met some Nazarenes (group of early 19th century German romantic painters who wanted to revive spirituality in art),after becoming a student of Friedrich Overbeck and after being heavily influenced by a friend, she began painting religious image, getting heavily inspired by the Italian renaissance, more specifically by the artist Raphael. In 1829, she became a court painter to Grand Duchess Sophie of Baden.

-Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (French,1841-1893)

Morisot studied at the Louvre, where she met Edouard Manet, which became her friend and professor. During 1874 she participated at her first Impressionist exhibition, and in 1892 sets up her own solo exhibition.

-Edmonia Lewis or also called "wildfire" (mixed African-American and Native American 1844-1907)

Edmonia was born in Upstate New York but she worked for most of her career in Rome, Italy. She was the first ever African American and Native American sculptor to achieve national and international fame, she began to gain prominence in the USA during the Civil Ware. She was the first black woman artist who has participated and has been recognized to any extent by the American artistic mainstream. She Also in on Molefi Kete Asante's list of 100 Greatest African Americans.

-Marie Gulliemine Benoist (French, 1768-1826)

Daughter of a civil servant, Marie was A pupil of Jaques-Louis David, whose she shared the revolutionary ideas with, painting innovative works that have caused whose revolutionary ideals he shared, painting innovative works that caused discussion. She opened a school for young girl artists, but the marriage with the banker Benoist and the political career Of the husband had slowly had effect on her artistic career, forcing her to stop painting. Her most famous work is Potrait of Madeline, which six years before slavery was abolished, so that painting became a simbol for women's emancipation and black people's rights.

-Lavinia Fontana (Italian, 1552-1614)

She is remembered for being the first woman artist to paint an altarpiece and for painting the first female nude by a woman (Minerva in the act of dressing), commissioned by Scipione Borghese.

-Elisabetta Sirani. (Italian, 1698-1665)

Her admirable artistic skills, that would vary from painting, drawing and engraving, permitted her, in 1660, to enter in the National Academy of S. Luca, making her work as s professor. After two years she replaced her father in his work of his Artistic workshop, turning it into an art schools for girls, becoming the first woman in Europe to have a girls' school of painting, like Artemisia Gentileschi, she represent female characters as strong and proud, mainly drawn from Greek and Roman stories. (ex. Timoclea Kills The Captain of Alexander the Great, 1659).

[megistusdiary]

On another note to the anon ask about reader speaking German...

What about Arlecchino speaking French while railing you? Just pounding you into oblivion with her strap/cock from behind while grunting and whispering praises in your ear. She's just so pussydrunk that her brain resorts to her native language 😁

(From Google translate so this is my apology in advance to French speakers)

"Ma chéri," she'd grunt as slams her hips against yours rapidly, forcing you to take all of her. "Toujours si bon pour moi. Tu me prends si bien."

You'd mumbling and slurring in your own native language, asking her to slow down, or for more, or that it's too much as you try to buck your hips in time with hers.

"Une si bonne épouse pour moi," she'd purr as she bites gently onto your earlobe.

"Ma chéri - my darling

"Toujours si bon pour moi. Tu me prends si bien." - Always so good for me. You take me so well.

"Une si bonne épouse pour moi" - such a good wife/partner for me

-🩸

🩸 anon, i miss youuu... i wanna see youuu

also, i am literally devouring this thought wtf. i don't know any french at all, so she could be calling me slut and i'd be like 😁

i now need to hear arlecchino speaking french aughhh oughh it's a need.

her mumbling in french while she's fucking you into her bed. her voice getting low/raspy, breathy grunts 🤤

yum!

[gaysindistress]

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest This fanart has haunted me since the first time I seen it and then I watched the Inglorious Bastards and here we are. There is nothing explicated stated but since Bucky is lowkey inspired by Hans Landa, take care of yourself and skip if you need to.

Footsteps and a knock at the door. 

“Mademoiselle?” the quiet voice of a maid drifts from the cracks of the door, “Mademoiselle are you awake? You have invités.”

The code word is what rouses the girl from her fitful sleep. Sliding out of her warm bed, the girl grabs her robe and slips it on before opening her bedroom door for her maid. 

“Merci, Josette. How many?” The hoarse voice tears its way from her throat as she steps aside for her maid to come in. 

Josette shifts nervously on her feet but stays put before whispering, “One but Mademoiselle, he is… he is the one from the papers.”

The girl nods as she listens to the frightened words of her maid. “Take him to the kitchen and tell him that I will be down momentarily. Give him a glass and a pitcher of water but do not offer him anything else and leave immediately. Wake Monsieur Pierre and tell him that you need him to take you to get honey. Do you understand?”

Josette doesn’t do anything, she just stares at the girl that she’s worked for for the last two years in shock. She begins to tremble and she grips her by the shoulders. 

“Tu comprends, Josette?��

She nods and scurries off down the hall, her blonde hair whipping behind her. The girl closes her door and begins to fix her appearance in her vanity mirror, rebraiding a braid she wore to sleep that night. She changes into her usual pair of cotton dungarees with a worn white blouse under and puts on the terribly knitted cardigan she made when Monsieur Pierre’s wife was first teaching her. Unable to find her boots, she slips on her oxfords and stalls at the door with her hand on the knob. She had hoped that it would’ve taken the bastard longer to find her but alas time is never going to be on her side. 

She pulls the door open and walks to the kitchen. She’d come to love this chateau during her months here and would miss it when she undoubtedly would be forced to flee. Pierre’s hushed voice draws her attention behind her but she doesn’t turn around. He’s telling Josette to hurry up and it almost made her chuckle. He wasn’t fond of the young blonde and would lecture her regularly. It seemed as though nothing would ever change from the sound of his frustrated voice. 

The flicking candle light in the kitchen is a warning, an omen really as she drew closer. She knows who was sitting in there, the man who had been haunting her dreams for years now.

“Monsieur,” she says in demure tone as she steps into the kitchen, “I apologize for my staff. She is a nervous girl. Would you like something to drink other than water? Coffee? Tea?”

“Fräulein,” the menacing voice that plagues her drawls, “you know that’s not how you should address me.”

The switch from French to German causes her to freeze internally but she doesn’t let it show. Instead she feigns nativity and she shakes her head at him, “I’m afraid I do not speak German, only French.”

He only stares at her. His sharp blue eyes are intense as they were before but the evidence of their time together is everlasting. A deep scar that stretches from his eyebrow to the bottom of his eye socket and a milky white eye in the middle of it. 

Her lip curls up in a smirk when she turns her face and sits opposite of him. He’s dressed in the usual attire of a colonel: an immaculately kept black uniform with a long black overcoat. 

“We both know that is a lie, Fräulein.”

She doesn’t respond. 

His own smirk overcomes his painfully beautiful face, “Drop the act, y/n. 

“I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. There is no act to be dropped and no y/n here.”

He leans back in his chair, causing the wood to creak and groan under his weight. He takes a drink of water while holding eye contact with her. Upon setting it down, the sound of gunfire rips through the air and she tenses while he watches for her reaction. When she doesn’t so much as flinch, he cocks his head at her and narrows his eyes. A car barrels down the gravel driveway and crashes into the ancient tree in the center. 

“I would apologize for them but that would be a lie,” he tells her. 

There’s a shift in the air and her demure french woman act is, in fact, dropped. 

Her accented German cuts thick through the air, “What do you want?”

“You.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“No.”

“I will burn this shithole to the ground,” he says as he pulls out a cigarette tin and lights a cigarette. He offers one to her and she takes it, allowing him to light it. 

“Is that meant to scare me into going with you? Come on, James, you have done worse than that and I suspect you will do far more.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees with a shrug of his shoulders. “But you will come with me, y/n. Tonight.”

“No,” she states again, blowing out her smoke and crossing her arms. 

“Defiant as always I see,” he mutters under his breath as he too takes a drag of his cigarette.

There is a long silent pause as the two of them smoke and stare at each other. His beauty hasn’t waned over the years but it’s turned deadly. The scar she gave him when she escaped him that night adds to the murderous edge to his gaze. The uniform that he wears is foul and makes her sick to her stomach. He’d promised to leave, promised to get away before things got bad. He’d promised to come for her once it was safe and they could live the life they had dreamed of. 

He’d broken all of those promises when he put on that uniform. All but one promise that is. He has come for her and he would be able to provide her with his sick verison of safety. 

“One of us is going to die,” she says finally whilst tapping the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor. “That’s the only way this ends.”

“No, Fräulein. There is another way but you will not like it.”

[riality-check]

Out of all the languages she knows, Robin thinks English is the worst.

It’s so… restricted. English has a lot of words, and it has a lot of fun words, but they’re all so broad. English has a few words that mean a lot of things. It’s confusing and takes five more sentences and mental gymnastics to understand the specific meaning of a phrase that could be conveyed much better in Spanish or French.

This is part of the reason why she wants to learn German, once she’s got a good enough grasp on Russian. They have specific words, and they actually use them. That and it should be pretty easy, as a native English speaker.

Reading Cyrillic was fun and all, but her brain needs a break.

All of this, of course, is the subject of her latest ramble to Steve since her parents already know and no one else listens to her the way he does.

(She repays the favor when baseball season rolls around, and he starts spitting stats at her. She thinks that if the word problems in school were about baseball, or if he believed in himself enough to take a statistics course, he would have kicked ass at math.)

“There’s only one way to say I love you in English, and that’s so stupid!” she says, starfished on top of Steve’s bed. God, his sheets are soft. “In other languages, there’s ways to say it to friends, to family, to whoever you’re dating-”

“Wait, really?” Steve glances at her in the mirror. His hands fuss at his hair, which, as always, looks fine.

She’s a little jealous of that.

“Yeah,” she says. She sits up and shakes her hair out of her face. “Like, in Italian, you say ti amo, which means I love you, to who you’re dating, and that’s only if it’s super serious.”

Steve straightens the collar of his shirt, the blue one with the white stripe, and turns back to her. “What do you say otherwise?”

“Ti voglio bene,” she answers automatically.

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks. He moves sits down across from her, tucking his knees to his chest.

That can’t be comfortable in jeans, but that’s what Robin has affectionately dubbed Steve’s listening position, so she knows he’s paying attention and actually cares.

“I means I love you,” she says.

“No, like…”

“Oh, do you mean the literal translation?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “What’s it mean?”

Robin wracks her brain for a few seconds before she remembers. “It means I want you well.”

Steve cocks his head at her in the way that reminds her of a curious, confused dog.

“It doesn’t translate super well,” Robin says. “So it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I think it does.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, if you love someone, you want them to be happy and healthy,” Steve explains. “You want things to be good for them. You want them well.”

And Steve says he isn’t smart.

“It makes a lot of sense when you say it like that,” Robin says.

Steve cracks a small smile. “Can you teach me how to say it?”

“What, ti voglio bene?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Robin says. She reminds herself to not get too excited because that’s weird, then promptly throws that thought out of her head.

She’s with Steve, and she can be as weird and excited as she wants.

“Repeat after me. Tea.”

“Tea.”

“Vole.”

“Vole.”

“Yee.”

“Yee.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Ben.”

“Ben.”

“Ay.”

“Ay.”

“Okay, ti voglio bene,” Robin says.

“Tea vole-yee-oh ben-ay,” Steve says, awkward and stilted.

Robin itches to correct his pronunciation, but she stops herself. She remembers that it’s really hard for native English speakers to get from the “vole” to the “yee” and have it sound correct unless they grew up speaking those sounds.

Mentally, she thanks her nonna for insisting on correct pronunciation.

“Not bad,” she says honestly.

Steve picks at the cuff of his light wash jeans. “It wasn’t great.”

“It wasn’t bad,” she argues.

“I think I’ll stick to English,” Steve says.

“Okay,” Robin says. “But you’ve got potential.”

 “I want you well, Robin,” he says, and then he grimaces. “That sounds prettier in Italian.”

“Everything sounds prettier in Italian. Even insults.”

Steve laughs, and Robin nudges his leg with her foot.

“I want you well, too,” she says, and she thinks that it might actually sound better in the language they both understand.

[miksterrr]

hc that all the ninja are multilingual.

at first, most of them just had a second (or third) language that they grew up with. But as they started saving more and more people, they all started learning more languages too better communicate with the people they save.

This can lead to some funny circumstances of them forgetting words in English or their native language. Sometimes, they don't realize they're speaking a different language.

Under the cut are my personal headcannons of what languages they're able to speak and understand.

They all know ASL and English.

Kai and Nya's native language is Spanish

Kai is fluent in Portuguese. He can get by in Filipino and Thai. He knows bits and pieces of Hindi and Mandarin.

Nya is fluent in Thai and German. She can get by in French, Latin, and Mandarin. She knows bits and pieces of Italian and Portuguesse.

Zane's native language is Russian.

After Zane was rebuilt, he was able to speak and understand every language.

Cole's native language is Tagalog and Hindi.

Cole is fluent in Spanish and Arabic. He can get by in Korean and German. He knows bits and pieces of Polish and Greek.

Jay's native language is French.

Jay is fluent in Italian, Vietnamese, and Japanese. He can get by in Polish and Hindi. He knows bits and pieces of German and Arabic.

Jay only learnt Italian due to it being Cliff Gordon's native language. It worked out when he found out he was Gordon's son.

Pixal was programmed to speak and understand every language.

Lloyd grew up speaking bits of Mandarin and Japanese- growing up at Darkley's exposed him to multiple languages, so he's able to get by in a few but he doesn't necessarily remember the names of them.

Lloyd is fluent in Mandarin, Japanese, and Thai. He can get by in Vietnamese and Spanish. He also knows bits and pieces of Hindi and French.

Lloyd can also understand Oni and Dragon. In some cases he's able to speak both. He doesn't realize when he's doing it.

[muffinsin]

how amused would the sisters be by a multilingual s/o? One that knows at least three languages fluently, is learning more and is definitely planning on learning Romanian too alongside many others.

Let’s see!👀 Hoping this one gets me out of this writer’s block XD

Masterlists

Bela

Bela catches onto your talent- as she likes to call it- early on

She’s incredibly impressed by your vast knowledge as it comes to different languages

While she has taught herself many languages-

such as French, German, Italian and even Spanish

-over the years, she is quite surprised to see a mortal possess such talent and willpower

She knows, it takes time, willpower, patience and determination to learn an entirely new language

She encourages you to learn more whenever you speak of it

She likes to learn with you, or help you learn

Some languages, she doesn’t even know

She only knows those that she finds books written in at the library

When you speak in languages she doesn’t understand or know exist, she is flabbergasted

Usually, she asks you what your words mean

She’s very eager to learn!

Bela is incredibly flustered whenever you call her a petname in a foreign language

Bela grows incredibly flustered with French poems especially

She does think it truly is the most romantic language

She loves Italian petnames

As one or two of the vast languages you speak match with ones she understands, she keeps quiet at first

Though, a gentle, knowing smirk is set on her lips whenever you speak and curse in a different language, thinking she doesn’t understand

It’s a game to her

She likes to let you believe she doesn’t understand you, until she catches you off guard by replying in a proper manner eventually

One thing that surprises her?

When you learn Romanian, one of her native languages

Her cheeks burn bright pink whenever you give her a Romanian petname

Words stammer from her lips when you ask her things in Romanian

She practically melts when you tell her how pretty she is in Romanian

She thinks your accent lacing over the words is incredibly attractive and cute, she encourages you speak more

She also likes to read books together, even more so when they’re in a different language and she gets to hear you speak and read aloud

(Bonus: Bela is very keen on you calling her romanian petnames in bed)

3

Cassandra

She speaks English and Romanian, and that’s about it

Upon hearing you curse in a language foreign to her, her eyes go wide

She’s amused by you

As well as intruiged

When you cup her cheeks and whisper a word, “beautiful” in a language she doesn’t understand, she immediately bares her teeth a little

Cassandra’s default thought?

You’ve just insulted her!

Unfortunately for her, you know she won’t hurt you, and so her reaction only brings a smile to your lips

She can’t help but whine a little when her nose is kissed

“What did that mean?”, she insists to know

She’s very intrigued about the languages you speak

While she won’t actively learn them, she picks up on words you tend to say and their meanings

You chuckle when Cassandra drops her sickle once and curses in Italian

Even she has no idea where that comes from, and just sends you a wise grin

Of course there are other words she picks up on…

Cassandra is surprisingly easy to fluster like that

Her playgirl reputation and lack of proper love have left her incredibly deprived and unprepared as it comes to love and affection

And so, when you cup her cheeks and tell her she’s pretty, she is immediately flustered

When you press yourself against her and ask her about her hunt, she’s barely able to keep talking

She gets flustered by far too easy by simple, affectionate words and gestures

She likes to turn the tables a little by picking up on these words

Beautiful, fierce, golden eyes, beauty. A few of the words she can now understand in the languages you speak

Soon, she pins you

“Mon amour?”

You can’t help but grin at her

When she finds out you’re working on speaking Romanian fluently, she’s incredibly flustered and intruiged

You- speaking Romanian?

She’s into it. Incredibly

Cassandra can be made incredibly flustered when you hold her chin and speak in Romanian

Random bits of words in Romanian

Romanian pet names

But her favorite?

When you offer her to drink from your neck, words spoken soft and in Romanian

She can’t hold back at all, nor does she plan on even attempting it

(Bonus: She loves making you beg for her in Romanian. If you don’t know how yet…ah, that’s your problem then)

Daniela

She speaks a little bit of French

Just enough to understand the petnames and a couple of phrases in her favourite novels

She’s so intruiged by you, even more so when she finds out you speak so many languages

She’s had French and Italian lessons as a “teen”, but nothing ever really stuck

Now, Daniela loves learning new things. Yet, she has such difficulty doing so sometimes

This makes you even more impressive to her

She loves nothing more than to listen to you talk and read her French novels to her

With her head on your chest, she occasionally repeats words she understands

She is flustered easily by being called various petnames in different languages, and will often shyly ask what you’ve said

Her favourite language remains to be French

Sometimes, she throws words right back at you, the pronunciation a little messed up, but with her large grin making up for it

She loves to “help” you study new languages

Really, this just means she giggles along at words she thinks are funny and distracts you by kissing you after each successful sentence

A reward, she insists

After a while, she usually gets bored and opts for laying on top of you as you study out loud

You’re quite impressed when she accidentally picks up on a few words and says them randomly

She’s very easy to convince and inspire, and it shows yet again here

Sometimes, quite often even, you receive little notes of hers in whatever language you speak or are trying to learn

Of course, these are often adorned with little drawn hearts and flowers

Daniela supports you no matter what! And she definitely supports you trying to educate yourself further and learn even more languages

She’ll ask Alcina and the duke for books and dictionaries of different languages, and often gift them to you randomly

Upon turning your attention to Romanian, Daniela in enthusiastic

She insists, she can teach you!

And, really, she’s an amazing teacher. She’s smart and patient, and has a vast vocabulary she loves to share with you

However, your little Daniela is quite the brat

Often she makes you “compliment” her sisters to “gain their favour”

These are the times Bela and Cassandra share an annoyed glance upon being called butt licking donkeys

[eccentrcks]

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐂: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞.

This gorgeous artwork of Marlene was made by my talented baby sister. Give her some applause for this! 🫶 I also made a taglist out of boredom, so don't mind me. Taglist to those who inspired me to make this profile and ref. sheet: @revnah1406, @welldonekhushi, @littlemissclandestine, @alypink, and @darkhazard19.

⎯ 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡:

Name: Marlene

Full Name: Marlene Jamie Monroe

Alias(es): "Mona" (General nickname by her family), "Marlie" (childhood nickname), "Chicky" (Captain Price), "Squirt" or "Baby Girl" (Phillip Graves), "Marl" (David Mason).

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Irish, Native American, Welsh.

Hair Colour: Chestnut brown.

Eye Colour: Light brown

Height: 5’11” (181cm)

Weight: 187lbs (84.8kg)

Body Built: Athletically average.

Languages Spoken: English, Irish, Gaelic, Welsh, Cree, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Bulgarian, Mandarin, French, German, Portuguese, etc.

Date of Birth: August 29, 2002.

Place of Birth: Fairbanks, Alaska.

Blood Type: AB-

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: N/A.

Status: Unknown.

-

⎯ 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦:

Myers-Briggs Type: INTJ-T (The Architect)

Calm and reserved: Despite having her moments of being a spitfire, she is actually a well composed individual and this really helps her in matters of survival. Although pretty social sometimes, then she can be completely asocial, Marlene is not exactly the kind of person who wouldn't instantly show her actual personality to others whom she'd just met. She handles stressful situations with the pressure very well most of time.

Selfless and loyal: Marlene may be an impassive and hardened young woman, but she has a good soul and heart. Those who are lucky to be a genuine friend of hers are privileged to see her display her true self at most times. Has the tendency to put others before herself. Marlene's love language is giving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch- which the latter is a rare thing of her to do frequently as a young adult now. Keeps it discreet though.

Tough as nails: She is unbelievably durable and endures a lot of life-threatening situations. Often gets underestimated by others, but tends to straighten them up with a surprise. It still hurts, yes, although she just quickly learns how to suck it up and keep going without letting it drag her down.

Jaded and weary: It's safe to mention that Marlene didn't had a normal childhood and went through a lot of hardships growing up with a paranoid survivalist of a mother. Kind of a sore spot for her to be asked about. Has a bad case of PTSD and denies her clinical diagnoses constantly. ("I'm fine." is her favourite saying) Has a complex relationship with her mother, her only parent that raised her this way, which means Marlene cares and resents her at the same time, yet she internally respects the woman who taught her most of everything she knows. She suffered from losses who were dearly significant to her... somethings she isn't ready to openly talk about. So the girl is just simply exhausted from existing.

Adaptable and intelligent, also a polyglot: If thrown into an environment that Marlene hadn't been in before, she will learn and adapt if it's necessary. Growing up traveling with her mother had taught her some things. She's quite a multilingual genius, speaks and read around 37(ish) languages, but also graduated high school at sixteen before attending Stanford University and finishing in three years for her computer science degree. So in a shorter summary, she's an eager and fantastic learner.

-

⎯ 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗔𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦:

Primary Weapons: Knife, Karambit neck knife, Remington 700PSS, HK-MP5K, HK-MP5A3, TP-82, XM177E1, and Pipe Bombs.

Fighting Style: Hand-to-hand combat, some MMA.

Special Skills: Great at reading others' body languages and sensing danger.

Talents: She can learn to speak at another language in a short span of time, craft explosives such as a pipe bomb within an hour if she has the resources, and create traps with the right stuff.

Shortcomings: Can get paranoid most of the time, chronically insomniac, has some trust issues, and suffers from terrible migraines.

-

⎯ 𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬:

"Born and grew up outside of Fairbanks in an isolated cabin for five years of her life with her mother, who had Marlene at eighteen, and mostly traveled around on the road after. She grew up with tough love and Melissa, her mother, was fiercely overprotective with her only child. Once they settled somewhere in California when she was eight where Marlene finally got enrolled in a public school where her peers would eventually learn about her intellect. She never knew how, or where, her mother earned her huge incomes to financially support themselves, but knows Melissa just has an every important job whenever she isn't home. Besides, whenever her mother was confronted, she was just met with a firm look by her and the woman stating that it's none of her concern as Marlene should just focus on herself. Eventually this led to her rebellious behaviour before incidents occurred and slowly shaped Marlene into a withdrawn teenager in college."

"Her history with Taskforce 141 was purely platonic. Met them through her mother, one by one when she was an teenager, before the group realized she was Melissa's baby girl and they all knew the same woman who met each of them outside of their occupations. She've met Phillip Graves when she was a kid when he came by to confront her mother before a father-daughter bond was formed between them since then. David Mason is her godfather and one of the people whom Marlene looks up to- much to Graves' dismay."

"When she was done with college at nineteen and the year 2021-[REDACTED]."

"Until 2022, she was brought into the CIA's custody in middle of a late evening walk, more like by Taskforce 141, and interrogated after some evidence of her was caught stealing some invaluable intel and secrets, appearing as one of their employees, before she was picked up by a black van after that. She kept denying the accusations and evidence for weeks until Graves, allegedly dead at the time, safely liberated her despite Marlene being in a frail condition with the help from David Mason and proof that she was truly innocent. Someone had framed her."

"Then not too long hours after she was brought into his protective custody, no one knew who helped her other than the fact that she escaped CIA's custody, as one of The Shadow Company's bases was attacked. Mostly everyone made it out, but Marlene who was soon announced dead after she passed out from the blood loss with the base getting bombed into nothing once they were forced to leave her behind. Leaving Graves and David angry, distraught, and vowed to avenge her once they find the culprits. Her remains were never found after that."

Theme song: Methods of Madness by Secession Studios.

*Profile will be be updated once the story progresses and kept her backstory vague(ish) for now.

[saintsenara]

I really want to hear your thoughts on the wizarding world. So I have a question about British wizards' language skills. Canon tells us very little about British wizards and their relationship to languages. We know that Fleur, Victor and Madame Maxime can speak more than one language. (They are not British). However, we do know that there is at least one British wizard who speaks several languages. Percy and Ludo say that Barty senior speaks over a hundred languages. So, do you think British wizarding society has a general opinion about learning languages or is it more about what class a wizard is born into or what their future career plans are? After all, Hogwarts doesn't teach languages to students. I'd also like to hear your thoughts on these characters and their language skills. Do you think they can speak more than one language? Voldemort (parseltongue doesn't count), Dumbledore, Barty jr and Bill Weasley.

thank you very much for the ask, anon! and what an interesting question!

in harry potter, language-learning is one of those things which - since it's not a key aspect of the story - ends up not having any specific worldbuilding. and so it's one of those parts of the books in which the wizarding attitude towards foreign languages just seems to be exactly the same as the real-world british one.

which is - like everything in britain - enormously rooted in social class, and in things [like race and ethnicity] which intersect with this.

you will often hear, for example, that the working-classes don't bother learning foreign languages - but what is meant by this is that working-class people don't choose in large numbers to become proficient in the specific western european languages [french, german, italian, and spanish] which signify that someone is well-educated, culturally-sophisticated, and mentally non-parochial to the british cultural and intellectual elite. working-class people may very well speak one of these four languages - especially african and caribbean dialects of french - as native or heritage language, and they may very well speak urdu, yoruba, albanian, polish, turkish, and so on for the same reasons... it's just that this isn't recognised as something impressive.

but it is certainly true that language-learning for reasons other than heritage generally isn't considered to be particularly important in class-brackets below a certain threshold in the middle-middle- to upper middle-classes.

partially this is for boorish, parochial reasons which align with certain strains of political and social conservatism. uncle vernon, for example, would regard language-learning as woke nonsense and be horrified if dudley came home from school and asked to be given loads of italian novels for his birthday... he would have a similar reaction if his son announced his intention to start playing the violin, take ballet, write poetry, become interested in impressionist painting, or eat the local food while on holiday.

[the grangers, in contrast, appear to come from the europhile wing of the upper-middle-classes - and would, therefore, regard it as horribly parochial to only speak english. we know they go on holiday to france in prisoner of azkaban - and i think we can imagine that this isn't the first time they do so, and that hermione and her parents can all speak conversational french. indeed, if hermione was privately educated prior to starting hogwarts - and all signs point to yes - she would have studied french at prep school.]

but british monolingualism is also partially because the global hegemony of english means that being able to speak anything else isn't crucial for travel, employment, or - indeed - emigration, since brits who aspire to move abroad often want to go to places like australia and new zealand.

and so language-learning has become - like music - an academic subject which seems to be thought of by many brits as "not a key skill" - unlike, for example, something like maths. nice to have if you've got a grip on everything else, but not a necessity... and so, for british children who are educated in state schools [public schools in the us], foreign languages are only compulsory for three school years [years 7-9, the equivalents of years 1-3 at hogwarts]. some schools insist on a language being taken at gcse [exams taken at the end of year 11 - hogwarts year 5, what owls are a pastiche of], but this is not mandatory.

[although it was at my school. slay.]

so it makes sense within this cultural context that there are no languages on the compulsory hogwarts curriculum - the intended audience isn't expecting there to be.

[although it's worth saying that ancient runes - while i know it has a whole fanon surrounding it which makes it a sort of spellcasting system - is a pastiche of latin/classical greek as school subjects, so there is at least one elective language students can study].

of course, it makes less sense that this is the case when we remember that jkr did french at university... and it also makes less sense that this is the case because hogwarts is based on real-world institutions - britain's elite boarding schools - which do prioritise language-learning, since the students come from class-backgrounds which value multilingualism as a signal of cultural status.

[seriously - while i accept that this is anecdotal - it was so striking to me when i was at university that all but three of the thirty-or-so people i ever met doing a degree in a foreign language, whether a european language or not, was privately educated. add in classical languages and that ratio gets worse.]

but i think we can get around this by noting that hogwarts is set up in a way which presumes that its entire student body has had a wizarding primary education - and not only that, but an elite one [since hogwarts does, even if this isn't the doylist text's intention, seem to apply some sort of selection process which means that students who aren't from well-heeled backgrounds stand out enormously]. and then by presuming that the primary curriculum which someone like draco malfoy would have studied [at home, probably with a governess] would have included some sort of language tuition.

i imagine that this tuition would be in a muggle language - non-human languages [like mermish or gobbledegook] seem to be regarded as sufficiently "niche" in the eyes of the population that they wouldn't be taught as a general skill, but either learned in one's own time or as part of the training for specific careers, such as goblin liaison; the fact that barty crouch sr. speaks so many just for fun is a way canon hints at him being a bit... weird - and i imagine that this muggle language would be french.

this is not, however, because i go in for the fanon that all purebloods are of recent french heritage and retain close family connections in france [names like malfoy and lestrange are anglo-norman - which means they arrived in britain a thousand years ago with william the conqueror, and are as meaningfully english as the word "beef" or "monarchy...], but because french is generally considered the most "useful" language to learn in britain because france is literally next door.

[irish is sobbing.]

when it comes to the characters you specifically asked about...

lord voldemort's pre-hogwarts education is a bit of a mystery - in that the fact that the text isn't concerned about fleshing it out means that he ends up being far better educated than would normally have been the case for a child of his background [simply by virtue of not being functionally illiterate...].

even if he went to a moderately well-resourced school by random chance, though, he's extremely unlikely to have formally learned any foreign languages. but the fact that the most common fanon locations for the orphanage are parts of east london which had historically large jewish communities in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries means that he'd have had a fair chance of picking up snippets of yiddish while he was wheeling and dealing around each day. east london also had a large irish community, and if the orphanage is a catholic one [which doesn't really work canonically but which is a headcanon i'm nonetheless wedded to], then he'd probably also have a bit of latin.

once he's at hogwarts, i presume he must take runes [since he's heavily implied, like all male characters the series considers to be intellectually brilliant, to have taken twelve owls]. nonetheless, while he's clearly a nerd - and while he loves a language puzzle, since he spends his teenage years coming up with an anagram of his own name [...] - he has a slightly harry-ish preference in canon for only enjoying lots of flicking-through-books research if it's for a tangible goal [i.e. opening the chamber of secrets]. i can't see him scouring textbooks in an effort to teach himself the european languages his posh friends would have learned at home unless he thought doing so would be unequivocally beneficial to him.

indeed, we canonically know that voldemort can't speak german, since when he's on his hunt for gregorovitch in deathly hallows a woman speaks to him in that language and he just defaults to the british standard of speaking louder in english... and i think we can reasonably assume on these grounds that he can't speak french either.

but he must be able to speak albanian fluently - simply out of necessity, since he spends so much time in the country.

and it's also interesting to me that during his ten years in europe after murdering hepzibah smith [so c.1955-1965], he is implied to spend a lot of time in communist europe, even if not in countries which were fully behind the iron curtain [he must, for example, meet karkaroff - and potentially dolohov - in some part of the eastern bloc, and the bulgarian delegation at the quidditch world cup know who he is]. i think it's entirely reasonable to suppose, then, that he must also be able to speak some level of russian.

dumbledore - on the other hand - can probably speak french, german, and italian, which would have been expected of the sort of late victorian young man who was preparing to embark on a grand tour, and which he undoubtedly taught himself in order to keep up his correspondence with the "most noted magical names of the day" [including grindelwald, to whom he probably spoke german].

i also quite like the idea of him as the sort of late victorian orientalist who crops up again and again in british history, who speaks a language like hindi, arabic, or ottoman turkish with a cut-glass english accent.

the various non-human language he speaks in canon - such as mermish - are presumably also self-taught, and the question which preoccupies me the most in relation to these is whether dumbledore can speak parseltongue?

after all, we know it's a language which can be learned by non-parselmouths - since ron manages to speak it in deathly hallows - and so it must have an actual structure rather than just be vibes. and if dumbledore can't understand it, then what the hell did he think was going on in the memory of the gaunts he shows harry?

barty crouch jr. was definitely forced to have endless lessons with tutors hired by his father, who wanted him to match his two hundred languages, but then forgot everything he knew about mermish the second he started school.

i am sure that - even if he doesn't seem to be able to during the canon timeline - bill weasley learns how to speak french fluently the second the war's out of the way. since this is a basic courtesy if your partner and her family is from france.

i am also sure that the three delacour-weasley children are raised to be bilingual, and that they take great pleasure in bitching about the three potter-weasley children to their faces.

the more interesting question, though, is whether bill can speak any gobbledegook.

it's implied that he might through his job - and he's asked in order of the phoenix about whether there's any pro-voldemort talk among the goblins at gringotts, which suggests that he's known to be able to understand any gobbledegook chit-chat he overhears. but it still always strikes me in deathly hallows that the imperialism really jumps out when bill's speaking to harry about griphook:

“I know goblins,” said Bill. “I’ve worked for Gringotts ever since I left Hogwarts. As far as there can be friendship between wizards and goblins, I have goblin friends - or, at least, goblins I know well, and like.”

this really doesn't sound like a man who takes the time to speak to his "friends" in their own language...

the fact that even the good guys treat non-human magical communities with - at best - paternalistic contempt is a really noticeable theme in the series [and, crucially, something which the series doesn't seem to think is a particularly bad thing]. and so i quite like the idea that someone like bill would have a lack of ability to communicate in gobbledegook, and that this would never be something he interrogated.

[siilvan]

OC File: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

gorgeous renders by the amazing wonderful phenomenal lovely @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot <33

finally posting my oc to cope with mw3... i've had her since november '22, didn't even mention her name to anyone until august lol. i've never had the confidence (or skill) to do this, so i'm thanking all of my mutuals with their wonderful ocs for giving me the strength to do it, even if they don't know it <3

note: despite petra being reader's callsign in bloodsport, it is not intended to be my oc. so far, the only fics that petra properly appears in are desideria and fortuna redux. i know it's confusing and i'm sorry 😭 more of her (and others) in the future!

very long post BTC...

edit: completely forgot to include this— credit to cptnprice for the file!!

GENERAL

Name: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

Nicknames/Aliases: Petra, Doc, Bravo 0-5, MEDINT 5, Leni (by friends/family)

Rank: Lieutenant (since 2015)

Gender: Female

Birth Date: June 29, 1990

Nationality: Dutch

Affiliations: Royal Netherlands Army, Korps Commandotroepen, Task Force 141, Coalition (Warcom), SpecGru

Birthplace: Rotterdam, Netherlands

Current Residence: The Hague, Netherlands

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Golden Brown

Eye Color: Blue (right), Green (left)

Height: 5'7" (1.70 m)

Weight: 160 lbs (72 kg)

Build: Athletic, hourglass (hips. That's all.)

Blood Type: O-

Marks: Various tattoos (pictured below), scar on cheek

Faceclaim: Rianne Haspels (Carlotta Champagne for body)

DETAILS

Sexuality: Unlabeled (prefers men)

Languages: Dutch (native), English (C2), Spanish (A2), French (B2), German (C1), Danish (C1), Russian (B2), Arabic (B1)

Education: Biochemistry BS from the University of Amsterdam, Biochemistry MSc from the University of Copenhagen

Preferred Hairstyles: Low bun or Dutch braid for missions, 3-strand braid or loose for everyday

Preferred Mission Attire: Anything from jeans and a turtleneck, to slim cargos and a tank top, to proper combat fatigues. Dresses for the weather, but hates anything baggy. Prefers to wear black and green, occasionally wears white, tan, or blue. Very athletic style.

Preferred Civilian Attire: Usually dresses fairly casual. Jeans, cargos, leather pants, leggings. Plain t-shirts, henleys, turtlenecks, off-shoulder tops. Wears bomber jackets or hoodies. Mostly wears black, green, or white. Likes feeling comfortable but cute when she's off the clock.

Favorite Color: Evergreen

Favorite Flower: Magnolia

PERSONALITY

Myers-Briggs Type: ENFJ-T. Extraverted, intuitive, feeling, judging, and turbulent. Petra prioritizes the better of the group over personal benefit and strives to have a positive impact on the world and the people around her. Happy to lead or follow, but preferring to guide others, she is a self-identified humanitarian with a pipe dream of world peace. Reliability, tolerance, passion, and altruism ultimately conflict with overthinking, stubbornness, perfectionism, and indecisiveness – Petra is both helped and hindered by the idea of what things can be or could have been.

FAMILY

Father: Colonel Hendrik "Chimera" Scholten de Ridder. Former KCT commander and military legend-turned terrorist. (deceased)

Mother: Johanna Scholten de Ridder (née van den Bos). Former MEDINT analyst for the BVD and MID. (deceased)

Brother: Sergeant Emiel "Nightfall" Scholten de Ridder. KCT operative and specialist in anything covert; never misses a shot. Ally of TF141, rarely stays in any one place for long due to the nature of his assignments.

Uncle: Unnamed paternal uncle. Father's younger brother, civilian military engineer. Lost his life in a terrorist attack in the mid-1990s. (deceased)

Aunt: Special Agent Merel "Songbird" van den Bos. Mother's older sister, former agent for the BVD and MID. Specialist in foreign relations and espionage. May or may not be living in the USA and married to Frank Woods (spoiler: she is).

Grandfather: General Emiel Scholten de Ridder. Paternal grandfather, former commander of the Royal Netherlands Army. Yes, her brother is named after him. (deceased)

SKILLS

Fighting Style: Adaptable, but prefers to keep her distance. Studied kickboxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Krav Maga in her youth – CQC is influenced by these.

Weapons: Can use whatever is available. Is oddly talented with a quarterstaff despite none of her training involving it.

Preferred Weapons: M4 (Hightower 20" Barrel, Schlager PEQ Box IV laser, Cronen Mini Pro optic, Corio Precio Factory stock), X12, Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife, karambit, throwing knives

Special Skills: Specializes in MEDINT analysis, trauma/medical care, chemical warfare, hostage rescue, asset protection, and foreign military assistance. Can act as a translator. Has received training in sniping, espionage, and stealth combat from allies. Is notorious for her strong fortitude. Very versatile.

Hobbies: Art, cooking, baking, reading, sports (baseball, climbing, kickboxing, swimming, ice skating), music (drums), studying languages

Former Hobbies: Did ballet and gymnastics in her youth. Still enjoys both, doesn't have the time to practice either. Has decent equilibrium thanks to them.

TRIVIA

The name Mylène can mean "merciful", Scholten refers to a schout (government official that handled administration of justice), and de Ridder means "the knight".

Her callsign Petra means "rock, stone" and is not implying that she's a stony person! She earned her callsign due to her high tolerance and endurance; she's also uniquely durable, often recovering from or withstanding injuries that would leave others in worse condition. It's a bit supernatural, don't worry about it.

Was introduced to drumming by her Uncle Frank when she was little. It's canon to me.

Mylène looks like a carbon copy of her aunt, sans some details like hair and eye color. She's also more well-built than her aunt thanks to being in the military.

Has a bunch of small rituals, habits, and very specific ways of doing things thanks to her OCD – nothing too crazy (she has no choice but to manage these thanks to her career), but you'll start to notice them if you're around her enough.

Has polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). She's learned ways to lessen the symptoms and has an IUD that helps immensely, but it's why she still has a decent amount of fat on her body despite working out religiously. (Not projecting my issues shh)

Doesn't date often due to her career and personal reservations. Prefers someone older, though. (I'm not projecting shh x2)

Keeps a journal on her at almost all times. Inside of it is anything from basic medical info for her allies, random drawings, important notes, etc. Likes to pretend it's organized, but it's not. At all.

Skipped a year in primary school, hence why she graduated at 17 instead of 18 despite attending a VWO school.

It was painfully obvious that she learned her Russian in school before she met Nikolai. After he laughed at her, he taught her how to sound more "natural" – AKA, he taught her almost exclusively profanity.

Bouncing off that, she's Mrs. Worldwide. Petra's unintentionally picked up so much slang from her coworkers.

Her favorite genres of literature are romance and philosophy. She can read outrageous smut with a straight face, but blushes and grins over fluffy stuff. Tries to read books in other languages to practice, too!

Will not touch any drug with a 10-foot pole. Same goes for tobacco, she's the type to dramatically cough if the team smokes around her. She's very health-conscious!!

TATTOOS

source 1 source 2

Tattoo One (Hands) I'm not going to lie... originally gave Petra the tattoo (two, actually – she has it on both hands) because I loved Freya's tattoos in GOW and the design is inspired by those. From an in-universe standpoint, it was her first tattoo (age 17) and she just wanted something simple that could be hidden under her gloves to prevent fading. Has to get them touched up every now and then.

Tattoo Two (Right Arm) Full sleeve of willow branches, florals, and butterflies. There's a lot of symbolism in this one. The butterflies represent transformation, hope, and rebirth; the willow branches symbolize a new life, protection, flexibility, and adaptability; the flowers embody anything from growth, joy, transience, hope, love, and death.

source 3 source 4

Tattoo Three (Left Bicep) Two-headed snake with flowers! I don't think I need to rhapsodize about the florals again, so I'll skip to the snake. Depending on the culture, a two-headed serpent can represent wildly different things. It's a symbol of rebirth and resurrection, with each head representing earth and the underworld. It can symbolize indecision and conflicting ideas. Duality, balance, power, healing, insight, and deeper awareness; snakes were often seen as a spiritual messenger, and the dual nature of a two-headed serpent represents learning from both positive and negative experiences. (if I see any "heehoo konni" comments, I will blow up the sun, this ain't about him babygirls 😔)

Tattoo Four (Left Inner Forearm) Compass with an arrow! The symbolism is pretty obvious, I think... Direction, guidance, and navigation; the compass arrow combines the arrow's representation of direction and forward movement and the compass' symbolism of finding your way and staying on course. Together, it represents the idea that, no matter how far away you are, your arrow will always hit its target – even when losing your way, you'll always be able to overcome adversity and find your way back.

BACKGROUND

⋆ CW: themes of child abuse, violence, SA (marked with ***) and overall mary sue levels of tragedy

Born on June 29, 1990 in the city of Rotterdam, Netherlands, to Hendrik Scholten de Ridder and Johanna Scholten de Ridder, Mylène had a normal – if not privileged, thanks to her family's prominent histories – early childhood. At the age of 3, her brother, Emiel, was born. Known to be a clever, compassionate girl, Mylène took to the "big sister" role with ease.

Her father was a captain from a distinguished military family with the callsign "Chimera", who ascended to the rank of colonel and commanded the Royal Netherlands Army’s special forces unit, the Korps Commandotroepen. Her mother was a medical intelligence analyst for the AIVD and MIVD (then-known as the BVD and MID) with a family history in government and politics.

In the late fall of 1999, when Mylène was only 9 years old, she came home from school and discovered her mother's corpse, having been killed by enemies of her father originally seeking to hold the family for ransom. This event, paired with the traumas he sustained over his years in the military, drove her father to "near insanity" as he became consumed with paranoia and grief. The rest of her and her brother's adolescence was defined by the trauma of her father's abuse; he subjected the siblings to rigorous physical and psychological training in order to mold them into "perfect soldiers" and prevent any further loss.

Despite this, her father was publicly viewed as a war hero. He would often leave the two alone when he was on deployment, forcing Mylène to care for herself and her brother with nothing more than a roof over their heads and grocery money provided. The siblings developed an unbreakable bond during this time that would extend into their adulthoods, rendering them a synergic duo both at home and in the field.

After finishing secondary school at 17, Mylène enlisted in the Royal Netherlands Army. She also studied at the University of Amsterdam – taking online classes – and eventually graduated with a BS in Biochemistry. She spent 3 years serving in various military hospitals, clinics, and field units under the 400 Medical Battalion, until she joined selection for the KCT in 2011. She was swiftly recognized for her high tolerance, natural interpersonal skills, and advanced aptitude for MEDINT analysis; she passed selection with top marks, setting several records during the infamous "hell week" exercise.

Mylène operated as a combat medic until August 2013, when she worked with the British SAS's Unit Bravo under the command of Captain John Price. Despite the joint team being greatly reduced in number and separated after a series of heavy artillery attacks from enemy forces, Mylène managed to provide emergency medical care and calm leadership as her party made its way to the rendezvous point that Price's group was defending.

After the joint operation concluded, Price took an interest in her, deciding to train her as a sniper and teach her how to better use her skills in combat. The two quickly developed a close relationship built upon mutual trust and a desire to fight for what's right, regardless of rules or orders. At some point after this, her unflappable nature and composure when faced with challenging conditions earned her the callsign "Petra".

*** By 2014, Mylène was in a several year-long relationship with a National Reserve Corps (NATRES) NCO named Florian Van Aller. On February 14 of that year, he suddenly came to her with an idea that left her speechless: "sharing" her with his unit. Despite his insistence and attempt to pressure her into it, Mylène refused, ending the relationship. They met on base the next day after Florian messaged her claiming to want to apologize – when she came face-to-face with him and his mentor, Captain Jozef Daalmans, she realized what she had been told was a lie.

*** Although the captain's only involvement was restraining her and watching, Mylène felt violated by both men. She was left at the scene, battered and ashamed, until the last person she expected to help found her – Colonel Hendrik Scholten de Ridder. In a rare act that she now describes as "the last time she ever saw her real father," he comforted her and took her to the hospital, where Mylène received treatment for the injuries she sustained in the assault. She never spoke of the incident afterwards, leaving herself, her father, and her attackers as the only people privy to it.

In early 2015, an assault team led by Chimera and Petra on an enemy submarine revealed that there was a traitor within the unit. The entire team, save for Chimera and Petra themselves, was killed onboard the vessel. The traitor was eventually discovered to be Chimera himself, with Petra as the only witness to his admission and subsequent attempt to bury her, and any incriminating evidence, at sea. With her father in the wind and knowing that her word alone wouldn't be enough to implicate him for his crimes, Petra contacted Captain Price, telling him: "You're the only person I can trust."

An unsanctioned operation to capture or kill Chimera was planned by the two, with the help of her brother – now a KCT operative nicknamed "Nightfall" – and Nikolai, a trusted contact of Price's. The small team managed to track the Colonel and his supporters to a base deep in the Alps, where they successfully wiped out the entire group and killed Chimera. After this mission, Petra felt indebted to Price and Nikolai, considering them two of the few people she could trust implicitly.

From then on, Petra lent her services to various humanitarian groups in an effort to provide protection and medical care on missions around the globe. With expertise in frontline trauma and medical care, hostage rescue, asset protection, medical intelligence analysis, chemical warfare, and the training and advising of foreign military units, Petra proved to be an elite operative capable of remaining calm in even the most dire scenarios. She’s been awarded the Military William Order, the Bronze Lion, the Bronze Cross, and the Cross of Merit for both covert and overt operations, establishing herself as a minor legend within the elite commando corps.

However, a little over a year after the unsanctioned operation in the Alps, Petra was captured and imprisoned by Ultranationalist forces. She was regularly tortured during her captivity, often by Vladimir Makarov, whom she now sarcastically describes as "a lovely man."

Sometime in mid-2017, Petra was yet-again assigned to a unit led by Price, tasked with infiltrating and securing an Al-Qatala base located in Kastovia. Another member of the unit was Nightfall, serving as the team's scout sniper. During the mission, while providing overwatch, Nightfall's radio was suddenly cut off. When the rest of the team finally reached his location to investigate, several IEDs planted in the area went off and forced the group to retreat. Petra attempted a rescue, but was prevented from doing so by Price, as it was too dangerous. Demolition teams cleared the area the following day. Once it was safe to extract Nightfall, however, the recovery team found nothing.

With her brother declared dead in absentia, Petra chose to abandon the special forces. She went back to school and earned an MSc in Biochemistry at the University of Copenhagen, refusing to contact any of her former allies so as to avoid being dragged back into the military.

In April 2019, Petra was tracked down in Denmark by Price, who informed her of Vladimir Makarov's plans in Verdansk and urged her to join the SAS team being sent to stop him. After thorough convincing, she agreed to come back for one more mission, seeking revenge against the man that tortured her years ago.

Petra was later handpicked for the task force Price established alongside CIA Station Chief Kate Laswell following the death of General Roman Barkov in November 2019. She was once again sought out by Price – and Nikolai, who was the "final nail in the coffin," according to Price – and convinced to join the team as a commanding officer.

About a month later, Laswell pinpointed the location of a prison in Georgia believed to be used by Al-Qatala to hold POWs. Reconnaissance of the prison confirmed this and the identity of several of the prisoners; Nightfall was identified as one of the POWs. Petra, leading an elite KCT unit, raided the location shortly thereafter, securing the captives, Nightfall, and intel about Al-Qatala's plans.

Between the invasion of Verdansk, Las Almas, and a burgeoning war with Konni group... Petra has fully committed herself to Task Force 141, willing to save the world or die trying.

[lorvdz]

What’s Sophie backstory? Gimme more of our lovely gulag escapee🫡

Hi Arcanister!!^_^

And yes of course I’ll feed you our precious gulag escape, and I get to yap about her:D

MAIN INFO

Name: Sophie Henrietta Schwarz

Alias(es): Sophie, Rietta

Rank: Clandestine special officer

Age: 38(1981)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Native language(s): Swiss-German

Other spoken language(s): English, Italian, Spanish, French, Hungarian, Russian, German

Nationality: Swiss

Date of birth: May 5th 1943

Birthplace: Zermatt, Valias, Switzerland

Eye color: Light blue/Grey-ish blue

Hair color: Ginger

Height: 5'7” / 1.75 cm

Body Type: Lean

GENERAL INFO, PERSONALITY AND TRAITS

Sophie is a very stoic and collected person on the outside but tends to be optimistic and light-hearted, but on the other hand her mind is never calm, she's always thinking and figuring things out along with planning things. She's incredibly secretive and will never ever fully tell the truth; Sophie doesn't lie but she isn't exactly honest either due to her past, and her upbringing. She isn't a social butterfly but she's easy to talk to; she reads people very easily, and has a calming presence about her which tends to draw people in- and there's just something about the way that she words and carries herself which, lures people in. No one's entirely sure of why Sophie was sent to the gulag, since she changes the story every time you ask her, explanations range from: "I escaped through the Berlin wall in broad daylight" to "I killed someone with my ball point pen in the Lubyanka building." or "I mutilated an entire KGB unit." But what is known for a fact is that Sophie is left distraught by whatever happened to her in the Vorkuta gulag; which is the only information that doesn't change when people ask about which she's spent time in. Sophie operates in the clandestine field due to her having gained a lot of information about the USSR and the KGB during her time in Russia, along with Hungary. On several occasions Sophie will also interrogate people(having prior knowledge to human psychological behavior, and learning how the KGB do it). Sophie's only seen wearing black clothes, most of the time its a black turtleneck, or a black leather jacket. She's never seen wearing any other color. No one knows what the exact reason to why that is, but once again she changes the story each time someone asks: "Black is the only color that doesn't hurt my eyes." or "I'm grieving." If she answers the "I'm grieving" explanation she will not elaborate any further. She has pretty good relationships with her work colleagues, but she works perfectly with Russell Adler due to him being her husband- she works extremely well with, Alex Mason, and Frank Woods. And can be found most of the time with Alex Mason and Frank Woods; she's usually working alongside them the most. In "Die Landebahn" CIA Safehouse E9, West Berlin- Sophie can be found in the center of the building where Russell Adler is; and she's often seen smoking. But sometimes she slips away somewhere more private, and can be caught injecting herself with a syringe.

[hedgehog-moss]

[1] `there are often translations available in other languages long before English ones` This is really interesting! I'm familiar with translation in games, where english is often a very early target (a small game might get 0-5 translations, depending on amount of text) because the size of the market is larger.

[2] Do you happen to know why this is different for books? Is it faster to come to a deal about publication rights for some other languages to get started on the translation? Is translation to english harder (at least from French) than to say, Spanish?

The literary translation situation has long been very dismal in the English-speaking world! I don’t know a lot about video games, but are localisations provided by the company that makes the game? Because if that's the case it makes sense that games would get translated into English as a priority. For literary translations which are imported rather than exported, other countries have to decide to translate a foreign author and anglo countries (US, UK and Canada at least) are not very interested in foreign literature. There's something known as the "3% rule" in translation—i.e. about 3% of all published books in the US in any given year are translations. Some recent sources say this figure is outdated and it’s now something like 5% (... god) but note that it encompasses all translations, and most of it is technical translation (instruction manuals, etc). The percentage of novels in translation published in the UK is 5-6% from what I’ve read and it’s lower in the US. In France it's 33%, and that’s not unusually high compared to other European countries.

I don't think it's only because of the global influence of English* and the higher proportion of English speakers in other countries than [insert language] speakers in the US, or poor language education in schools etc, because just consider how many people in the US speak Spanish—I just looked it up and native Spanish speakers in the US represent nearly 2/3rds of the population of France, and yet in 2014 (most recent solid stat I could find) the US published only 67 books translated from Spanish. France with a much smaller % of native Spanish speakers (and literary market) published ~370 translations from Spanish that same year. All languages combined, the total number of new translations published in France in 2014 was 11,859; in Spain it was 19,865; the same year the US published 618 new translations. France translated more books from German alone (754) than the US did from all languages combined, and German is only our 3rd most translated language (and a distant third at that!). The number of new translations I found in the US in 2018 was 632 so the 3% figure is probably still accurate enough.

* When I say it’s not just about the global influence of English—obviously that plays a huge role but I mean there’s also a factor of cultural isolationism at play. If you take English out of the equation there’s still a lot more cultural exchange (in terms of literature) between other countries. Take Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead; it was published in 2009, and (to give a few examples) translated in Swedish 1 year later, in Russian & German 2 years later, in French, Danish & Italian 3 years later, in English 10 years later—only after she won the Nobel. I’m reminded of the former secretary for the Nobel Prize who said Americans “don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature” because they don’t translate enough. I think it's a similar phenomenon as the one described in the "How US culture ate the world" article; the US is more interested in exporting its culture than in importing cultural products from the rest of the world. And sure, anglo culture is spread over most continents so there’s still a diversity of voices that write in English (from India, South Africa, etc etc) but that creates pressure for authors to adopt English as their literary language. The dearth of English translation doesn’t just mean that monolingual anglophones are cut off from a lot of great literature, but also that authors who write in minority languages are cut off from the global visibility an English translation could give them, as it could serve as a bridge to be translated in a lot more languages, and as a way to become eligible for major literary prizes including the Nobel.

Considering that women are less translated than men and represent a minority (about 1/3) of that already abysmally low 3% figure, I find the recent successes of English translations of women writers encouraging—Olga Tokarczuk, Banana Yoshimoto, Han Kang, Valeria Luiselli, Samanta Schweblin, Sayaka Murata, Leila Slimani, of course Elena Ferrante... Hopefully this is a trend that continues & increases! I remember this New Yorker article from years ago, “Do You Have to Win the Nobel Prize to Be Translated?”, in which a US small press owner said “there’s just no demand in this country” (for translated works); but the article acknowledged that it’s also a chicken-and-egg problem. Traditional publishers who have the budget to market them properly don’t release many translations as (among other things) they think US readers are reluctant to read translated foreign literature, and the indie presses who release the lion’s share of translated works (I read it was about 80%) don’t have the budget to promote them so people don’t buy them so the assumption that readers aren’t interested lives on. So maybe social media can slowly change the situation by showing that anglo readers are interested in translated books if they just get to find out about them...

[areinca]

because why not, here is the most likely diegetic language every cabaret (1998) song is in

and yes not all of these songs are technically diegetic but cmon

anyway

Willkommen: German, French, and English, but as likely most of the Kit Kat Klub’s visitors are from Germany the spoken bits not translated twice are probably German.

So What - We can assume English, as based on both Cliff and Fraulein Schneider’s dialogue in the spoken scene it is implied they are both speaking in English (Schneider appears to not understand all of his words and speaks brokenly at times).

Don’t Tell Mama - Mostly English; the word “bitte” is kept in German, and is rhyming with “please, sir,” so it would make most sense if the rest of the song was in English. This would mean that the Kit Kat Girls (apart from Texas) are singing phonetically, which does not have to do with diegetic languages but is interesting to me.

Mein Herr - English and German. Again, it would make most sense that the English parts are English and the German parts are German.

Perfectly Marvelous - English. Cliff and Sally’s native language is English.

Two Ladies - German. There are no German words in the song that could imply otherwise and German is the native language of everybody singing (and the majority of those watching as well).

It Couldn’t Please Me More - German. Schultz and Schneider’s native language is German.

Tomorrow Belongs To Me - German, due to the song’s nationalistic nature.

Maybe This Time - English, as it is Sally’s internal monologue and her native language is English.

Money - See Two Ladies.

Married - Despite the fact that there is a part of the song translated into German, I think the rest of the song is also dietetically in German. It would make the most sense due to the reasons also for It Couldn’t Please Me More, and the intimacy adds to that. This is the one exception to “if there are multiple languages, there are dietetically multiple languages” thesis I’ve been following.

Tomorrow Belongs to Me (Reprise) - See Tomorrow Belongs to Me.

Married (Reprise) - See It Couldn’t Please Me More.

If You Could See Her - The sung part is German, see reasons for Tomorrow Belongs to Me and Two Ladies. However, the spoken part with some double translation (German to French to English) and single translation (German to English) indicates that at least a small portion of the spoken part (that isn’t these translations) is dietetically in English.

What Would You Do - We can assume English with this one too, as Sally reacts to Schneider’s words and seems to have understood what she just said. Sally does not understand German, as she reveals in the scene before Perfectly Marvelous.

I Don’t Care Much - See Tomorrow Belongs to Me.

Cabaret - This is the one I’m least sure about. Sally is singing it, so we might think English. However, now definitely the vast majority of the audience is German and wanting to hear German songs. At the same time though, Sally doesn’t understand German, and she definitely knows what she’s singing. She is also marketed as “a talented young lady from England,” so I’m going to go with English for this one.

Finale - See Willkommen.

[zetsubo-bani]

I really look forward to the green witch arc being animated. Not only because of the great plot, but because I want to hear the dub and sub speak german. Knowing how the dub atleast went with the french speaking scene in bom I can already predict that it will become a wednesday situation again where even as a native speaker like myself you don't understand 60% of what she said.

Though ciel has a free pass this entire arc since it's part of the plot that he can barely speak or understand german.

I just look forward to sieglinde dropping sentences like "wie alt bist du?" Or "wieso sind sie hier?" with a really thick english/japanese accent

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Rosaria Marie Leone

Summary: Chicago native, Rosaria Leone (leh-OHN), was stationed in Aldourne, England awaiting further instructions to her next duty location. She finally received orders to Bastogne after the 326th Medical team was captured on their way to the town by German soldiers.

The church in the town was converted into an aid station to lodge wounded soldiers that came in from the front lines, but with medical supplies running low and shortage of medical personnel, the Americans were in desperate need of more medics and nurses to keep up with the workload. To her surprise, she finds a few silver linings by befriending a local nurse, Renée Lemaire, and Easy Company’s medic, Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe. 

A/N: OC Introduction/Rosaria Marie Leone (leh-OHN), EugeneRoeX!FemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Military Terminology, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Mentions of death, Blood, Medical Terminology, Italian and French with English translations

Story takes place during Episode 6-Bastogne

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

Bastogne September 1944 

“Rosaria Marie Le-Leeee-on-” the charge nurse, Agatha Hannigan began with difficulty, as she looked over her spectacles at the orders given to her by the young woman standing before her. 

“Leone.” The young lady articulated. She was used to people mispronouncing her last name. 

The older lady’s lips pursed into a thin line, clearly displeased with being corrected by a replacement. She scribbled a few things on the orders. The charge nurse looked back at the young woman, scanning her from head to toe with every ounce of disdain behind her eyes. 

“Why are you wearing soldier’s fatigues? Where is your ward dress uniform? And your apron and head scarf?” Hannigan snapped. 

“This is all I ever worn, ma’am. I’m a field medic, so this is my initial issued uniform.” she explained. 

Hannigan sniffed at her, then wrote a few more notes on the orders. 

“Alright, Rosaria Leone-” 

“It’s just Saria-” 

 “-you and Renée report to me and I report to LT Doc Ryan.” she explained paying no mind to Saria’s statement. 

Saria sighed, “Yes, ma’am.” 

As she followed Hannigan, they approached a young nurse stirring a large metal pot hanging over a pit in the fireplace. The smell of the steam proved it wasn’t any kind of food she had been mixing but used bandages that were being laundered. 

“Renée-” Hannigan bellowed. 

The girl turned upon hearing her name. She met the charge nurse and Saria halfway as she dried her hands on her apron. 

“-this is our new nurse, Rosaria Lenonni, just in from Aldourne.” Hannigan introduced. 

Saria rolled her eyes but remained silent, not bothering to correct her again. 

Renée extended her hand, “Bonjour! (Hello!)” she greeted in French. 

“Buongiorno. (Good morning.)” Saria returned in Italian with a warm smile shaking Renée's hand. 

“You speak Italian?” Hannigan asked. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Hm, a lot of good that’ll do you here. You do know you're in Belgium, right? Renée, you got her from here.” Hannigan snipped, waving her hand as she walked away. 

“Oui. (Yes).” Renée replied turning back to Saria, “-Don’t mind her. You’ll get used to her.” she whispered with a grin. 

“I’m sure.” Saria responded. 

“Viens avec moi (Come with me), I’ll show you around.” Renée gestured to Saria to follow her. 

~~~~~~~ 

December 1944 

The months flew by and before Saria could blink, a layer of snow covered the grounds in and around Bastogne. She quickly befriended Renée and the other Congolese nurse, Anna. Together, they worked side by side tending to the wounded, and endured the aftermath of what happened outside of the Church/aid station when soldiers were brought to them. The horrors of blood and gore came in overwhelming waves, but Saria, Anna and Renée worked through the carnage as a team to do what they needed to do to save the men that were brought to them.  

More often than not, soldiers have succumbed to their injuries because medical supplies were becoming scarcer. There was very little of everything they needed, and it seemed more and more men were being brought to them daily. They were unable to evacuate the wounded or receive medical supplies due to heavy German advances. Not only did the Germans prevent escape for the injured, but they also captured the 326th Medical team and integrated them into their own medical team to tend to their wounded soldiers.  

“Lost another one today.” Renée said to Saria as she sat next to her on a pew against the wall. 

Saria shook her head, “Seems to be happening more often, doesn’t it?” she acknowledged. 

“Peut-être (Perhaps).” Renée replied as she reached into her apron pocket pulling out a half-wrapped bar of chocolate. 

She removed the paper and broke off a piece, handing it to Saria. 

“Chocolat?” she asked. 

Saria looked at the candy in Renée's hand and smiled weakly as she took it from her. 

“Merci.” Saria thanked. 

“Prego.” Renée returned in Italian, “Your French is getting better!” she added. 

Saria laughed, “You don’t have to be nice about it, Renée, I know it needs work.”  

“No, I insist! Your practicing is paying off, mon ami (my friend).” Renée encouraged. 

“Well thanks to you.” Saria pointed out. 

As they sat there enjoying the sweet treat, a handful of soldiers came in with an injured man on a stretcher, as a medic walked in after them. 

Renée and Saria rushed to the men with the injured soldier. 

“No, no. Here. Put him here.” Renee instructed. 

“Yes, ma’am.” the head soldier carrying the stretcher obliged as they lifted him onto a bed. 

“Is he bad?” Saria asked the medic. 

“No, lower-leg wound. No morphine.” he replied in a deep calm voice. 

Renée took a quick look at the right leg then nodded. 

“I’ll get more bandages.” Renée relayed to Saria. 

Before Renée could leave the medic was following her, “Nurse, have you got plasma I can--?” 

“Wait. Please.” Renée urged before disappearing into another room. 

The medic furrowed his eyebrows, discouraged by Renée's response. Saria felt a wave of guilt for him.  

She looked back at the soldier on the bed that they just brought in, “What’s your name, soldier?”  

“They call me Skinny.” he responded with labored breathing. 

“I’m Saria. We’ll get you squared away, ok?” She reassured him with a warm smile. 

He nodded with a forced grin since he was obviously in pain. She covered him with a blanket and turned to the same medic standing alone in a doorway watching Anna pack a thigh wound of another soldier while Renée assisted. 

The medic turned to Saria, “Hey, what’s going on here? Why aren't these men being evacuated?” 

Saria was a little taken back by his dismayed tone. 

“We can’t evacuate. We’re cut off, this is far as it goes.” she replied as she side stepped him to get to Renée and Anna. 

~~~~~~~ 

Renée and Saria had returned to Skinny with a bottle of liquor and a glass, pouring him a hefty amount to drink as a pain remedy. 

Skinny looked up at the two nurses then looked at the medic, “I think I’m in heaven, Doc.”  

The medic smirked briefly. 

As Renée and Saria began walking away, the medic called after them, “Nurse-” 

“This way.” Renée said, as she motioned him to follow. 

The medic walked along side Saria while they followed Renée to the rear of the church where all the supplies were being stored at an extravagant altar. 

“I need Morphine. I need bandages. Whatever you got. We’re down to nothin’.” the medic explained. 

“Ok, I can give you a little, but not a lot.” Renée replied gravely. 

Saria picked up a small wooden crate filled with IV bottles, syringes, and a few syrette cases. 

“You can have this today. Do you want that?” Saria asked him. 

“Oui. You got plasma?” he questioned urgently. 

“A little. Are you a surgeon?” Renée queried. 

“No. We don’t got no surgeon.” he replied with a bit of sting behind his voice. 

Saria placed a handful of torn cloth into his crate, “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the bulk of cloth. 

“From the beds.” Saria replied. 

“What, sheets?” he clarified. 

“Yes, for bandages.” 

A look of shock appeared on the medic’s face as he stared at her. 

“It does the job.” Saria said with a soft smile and a shrug. 

He nodded, placing the bandages back in the crate. 

He stood tall before Renée and Saria when they were done packing the crate with supplies,  

“Merci.” he thanked in a low honeyed southern accent. 

“Prego.” Saria responded. 

The medic shot her a look of confusion, tilting his head studying her like a puzzle. 

“Comment vous appelez-vous? (What do you call yourself?)” the man asked Saria and Renée. 

Renée looked at him, then looked at Saria expectantly waiting for her to reply. 

“Go on, this is a perfect time to practice, mon ami. (my friend).” Renée encouraged Saria. 

Saria’s eyes flitted between Renée and the medic,  

“Uh-” was all Saria could manage until she heard Renée again. 

“Tu peux le faire, mon ami (You can do it, friend).”  

Saria took a deep breath, “Je m'appelle Rosaria Leone (My name is Rosaria Leone).”  

A smile tugged at the corners of the medic’s mouth. 

“My name is Renée.”  

“I’m Gene. Eugene Roe.” 

“Where are you from?” Renée asked Eugene. 

“Louisiana. Half-Cajun. Et toi? (And you?)” he returned. 

“Bastogne.” Renée answered. 

Eugene looked at Saria. 

“Chicago.” 

His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. 

“Oh, I thought maybe you-” 

“No, I’m American. My parents were born in Tuscany, Italy.” Saria explained. 

“I see.” he discerned. 

There was a brief silence before he nodded at Saria then turned to follow Renée to the exit. 

“Arrivederci, Eugenio. (Goodbye, Eugene).” Saria called after him in Italian. 

Eugene turned while still walking away displaying a coy smile. 

After some time, Renée returned from showing Eugene out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she wore a subtle smile as she mindlessly stirred the boiling pot of bandages.

“Renée?” 

No response. 

“Renée?” Saria said again a little louder. 

Renée looked at her startled, “Oui?”  

Saria laughed, “You were gone for a good couple of minutes. Où étiez-vous? (Where were you?)” Saria stated. 

Renée smiled, “I caught up with our new friend to give him some chocolat.” 

“That was nice of you, Renée.” 

“You can see in his eyes he’s seen some awful things. He needed to be shown some kindness.” Renée explained. 

~~~~~~~ 

It wasn’t the last time Renée and Saria saw Eugene Roe. The second time he had visited, Renée and Saria were frantically trying to stop a soldier from bleeding out from his mid-section. As Saria tried to pack the wound where the source of the bleeding was while Gene had been wiping the blood away so she could see where the artery was. The soldier expired leaving Renée, Gene, and Saria disheartened and lost in their own thoughts.  

Saria sauntered towards the spiral staircase to the main entrance so she could go outside to get some air. Eventually, Renée and Eugene joined her. Saria sat by a pile of broken furniture in front of the church, with her face buried in her hands. Renée sat next to Saria draping an arm across her shoulders pulling her in for a side hug. 

“Ça va mon ami? (Are you alright, my friend?)” Renée asked. 

Saria only nodded; not even sure she really was ok. 

Eugene observed each of their hands. Saria’s hands, bruised with remanence of the soldier’s blood after failing to wash all of it off her knuckles and nails and Renée's hands bearing the same appearances. Renée pulled a new bar of chocolate from her apron pocket and began tearing away the paper.  

She broke off a section, nudging Saria, “Tiens, belle amie (Here, beautiful friend).” 

Saria accepted the chocolate, “Vous êtes trop gentil. (You’re too kind).” 

Renée offered Eugene the candy, but as he took it from her, he smiled. 

“What?” Renée asked. 

“Your hands.” Eugene gestured to her and Saria. Saria slowly looked up at him. 

“Our hands?” Renée reiterated. 

He nodded, “You’re good nurses.” he complimented. 

Renée looked at her hands, “No. I never want to treat another wounded man again. I’d rather work in a butcher’s shop.” 

Eugene’s eyebrows drew inward hearing her statement. 

“But your touch calms people.” he defended, “That’s a gift from God.” he added. 

Renée shook her head, “No, it’s not a gift,” she flipped her hands over to look at the back of them, “God would never give such a painful thing.” she proclaimed. 

“Renée, you don’t mean that.” Saria insisted. 

“Oh, mais je le fais, mon ami. (Oh, but I do, my friend).” Renee said with a weak smile. 

A jeep pulled up with yet another wounded soldier, “Nurse! Nurse! We need some help over here!” 

Renée looked over her shoulder, “Stay and rest awhile longer, mon ami. I’ll take care of this.” She said to Saria as she gave her an encouraging hug before she stood up and ran off. 

A moment of silence passed before Eugene spoke again. 

“Is that how you feel, too?” he asked her. 

Saria sighed, “No. I don’t.” she replied confidently shaking her head before meeting his gaze. 

“Glad to hear it.” he affirmed with a slight smile as he looked back down at the candy bar in his hand. 

Saria folded her hands in her lap. 

“Comment se porte ton français? (How’s your French coming along?)” Eugene quizzed her with a mischievous grin. 

Saria looked at him alarmed, and slightly embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck and began to blush. 

“Oh, uh-” she began, “-tellement, tellement (so, so.)” she replied. 

Eugene chuckled, “I've heard you do better than that.” he declared, “Tell me something new you’ve learned. Peut-être que je peux aider. (Maybe I can help.)” he offered. 

Saria felt heat rise from her collar. 

“Ce serait généreux de votre part, Eugène (That would be generous of you, Eugene),” she managed to say, “-merci.” 

“Prego.” Eugene answered modestly in Italian with a welcoming smile. 

Saria laughed aloud at his playful response. 

“Guess I could return the favor and teach you some Italian.” she suggested. 

“Sure.” Gene allotted. “Guess I’ll be heading back to the line then. See ya around, mon ami.” He stood and ran towards the jeep to hitch a ride. 

Saria watched the jeep speed off with Eugene in the front seat, saying a silent prayer to herself for him to be safe when he makes it to the front lines. 

~~~~~~~ 

Christmas Eve 1944 

The third run in with Eugene, he brought in an Easy Company soldier, with an IV already applied. As they carried him in setting him down onto a cot, the receiving medic, Jones, began hounding Gene for the man’s information. 

“Where’s his tag?” Jones looked all over the man’s person, then looked at Gene again, “Where’s his tag?” 

Eugene stared at his buddy lying on the cot unable to move. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jones pushed. 

Eugene looked at him calmly, “Paralyzed.” he responded simply. 

“What?” Jones asked. 

Eugene sighed, “He’s paralyzed. Can’t feel a thing.” he clarified. 

Renée saw him from across the room, “Eugene?” 

Gene looked at her, his spirits lifted the moment he saw her smile. 

“Eugene.” Renée greeted him. 

“Renée-” he replied with frail delight in his voice. 

“Are you-” Renee started to ask before she was interrupted. 

“-Renée, I need some help over here!” Jones called from the back. 

“Are you all right?” Renée continued as she walked towards Eugene. 

“Renée! We need you!” Jones called again. 

She looked towards the rear of the church where Jones was then huffed in frustration. She met Gene’s disappointed expression, gave him an apologetic smile then scampered off. 

“Bonjour, Eugène.” Saria greeted. 

“Bonjour, Rosaria, mon ami. (Hello, Rosaria, my friend),” he returned with a fleeting smile. 

Saria looked Gene over, “You ok?”  

He met her concerned guise with soft tired eyes, “Oui.” he responded plainly. 

Saria gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Je suis toujours là, mon ami. (I’m always here, friend.)” Saria reassured him. 

He looked at her and nodded, “Merci, mon ami.” he replied managing a genuine smile. 

Saria returned a smile then proceeded past him. 

“Oh, and Eugene-” she called back to him. 

He turned to her. 

“Joyeux noël. (Merry Christmas.)” she projected somewhat cheerfully to him, sending him a wink before he could reply. 

Eugene smiled to himself, feeling that bit of warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene returned to the line, only to have to go back to Bastogne to bring LT Welsh to the aid station that night. Upon entering the town, everyone was in a panic, running to find cover from an imminent German air raid heading towards the town.  

Upon hearing the siren alerting the town of the attack, Renée and Saria began assisting the wounded who tolerated the ability to move to evacuate the church.  

On the other side of the town, Eugene could see the enemy aircraft approaching. He started to race towards the church to see if Renée, Saria, and Anna had been able to reach safety. As he sprinted towards the aid station, the bombers passed overhead releasing shells on every building in their wake until one hit the church, releasing a mushrooming blast from the steeple. Another bomber deploying a bigger explosive, shattered the foundation of the stone building, sending it to shambles to the ground below. 

Eugene stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes from the piercing light from the blast. Frozen from shock and disbelief, his mind began piecing together the possibility that Renée, Saria, and Anna were still in the church during the bombing. To this thought, he began running again, pushing through the crowds to reach his friends. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene searched relentlessly for the three nurses. As dawn approached, he began to lose hope. He had asked everyone he bumped into if they had seen Renée, Saria, or Anna. Everyone he asked either hadn’t known the whereabouts of any medical personnel or had conflicting stories of who made it out or not.

Just when Eugene was ready to give up, he saw a familiar figure sitting on a pile of stones that had collapsed from the church. As he cautiously approached, he recognized the face of this young woman seated before him. 

“Rosaria?” He addressed the woman with strain behind his voice. 

Saria turned slowly; her bloodshot eyes met his hopeful face while tears trailed through the dirt on her cheeks. When she saw it was Eugene, her tear flow increased beyond her ability to see. 

“Eugene.” she gasped as she tried to stand to meet him. As she did, she lost her footing on the gravel. 

Eugene snaked his arms around her, pulling her into him so she wouldn’t fall forward. 

“Hey, now! Je t'ai eu (I got you).” he exclaimed. 

He helped her stand up right, pulling her square to him so he could talk to her. 

“Are you ok!?” he asked. 

“I-I’m alive.” Saria stuttered. 

Eugene kneaded her shoulders with his hands. 

“Et Renée? (And Renée?) Anna?” he dared to ask holding Saria steady by the shoulders. 

Saria looked away from Eugene and began to sniffle. Eugene waited. 

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a blue head scarf and handed it to him. He took it from her, realizing it was the same one that Renée had worn. 

He stared at the blue cloth in his hand as everything began to sink in. 

“We-” Saria tried to explain but her overwhelming anguish had her struggling to speak, “-we were evacuating as many men as we could. Renée had----gone back inside to find Anna right before the first shell dropped on the church-”  

Eugene redirected his eyes onto Saria. He swallowed hard, biting back the tears he felt building up. 

“When the first bomb hit, I tried to go in to get her...then the second one hit blocking the entrance to the church. I couldn’t get to them, Eugene.” Saria whispered, staring over his shoulder reliving the horrific scene as if it was replaying in front of her on a movie screen. 

She started to shake her head, “If I had only gotten there sooner-” 

“No,” Gene placed a hand on each side of her face bringing her attention to him, “what happened to Renée and Anna is not your fault. You hear me?”  

Saria’s tears spilled over like waterfalls.  

He pulled her into his chest, allowing her to sob into his jacket as he stroked her hair. 

“Ssshhh,” Gene soothed, “Je suis là, belle amie. Je suis là (I’m right here, beautiful friend. I’m here.)” 

~~~~~~~

[maleyhae]

French lesson

bill kaulitz x native French fem reader

warnings- none

A/n- disclaimer! I don't know French that greatly so if i say anything wrong please dm or tell me in the comments thank you<3! and also i made them date if that's not want you wanted anon let me know so I can fix it! also, if it wasn't as long as you want anon, I'm sorry it is probably because i ran out of ideas for it! did i put a french as a laungue on my laptop for this yes adn i regret it

BILL KAULITZS POV:

"Meine Lieb please will you teach me French?" I asked my girlfriend since I wanted to learn French since her parents were coming to our upcoming show in France. to support their daughter.

"Oui" she said getting up and I followed her to the table where I assume she was going to teach me her mother language.

"Okay what do you want to learn mon amour ?" she said. "The basics and stuff so I can impress your family." I say and I hear her laugh.

READERS POV :

"The basics and stuff so i can impress your family." I hear Bill say and i started to laugh. "Is that why you are wanting to learn French?" I asked sill laughing shocked that when I was talking, I didn't speak at least one French word which usually I tend to do (it happens when my mom speaks Italian so kind of basing that of her) "alright mon amour what do you already know from our last tour in France?" i asked not remembering if I had taught them any of them French or not.

BILL POV:

" malheureusement je ne parle pas très bien français, mais j"essaierai de m'améliore pour la prochaine fois" I said since that in all true reality I knew. She looked at me like I was a French man instead of a German man. Wait does that make sense? Oh well.

Time skip due to me not having anymore ideas :3

*still bills pov*

"Chers Monsieur et Madame (Nom de famille), je souhaite demander la main de vos filles/Dear Mr and Mrs. (Last name) I want to ask for your daughters hand in marriage" I said and my girlfriend looked impressed and she looked so beautiful when she was happy.

READS POV:

"Chers Monsieur et Madame (Nom de famille), je souhaite demander la main de vos filles" I heard my boyfriend say I had No clue why he said that but hey it works! " Wow mon amour c'était génial/Wow my love that was great" I say amazed and a little tired. " Allez mon amour, dormons un peu, il est 2 heures du matin/Come on my love let's get some sleep it's 2 in the morning" I said as my French accent got more noticeable (again this happens with my dad with his German accent so based of him)

3rd person:

Très bien mon amour, allons-y/Alright my love let's go" Bill said as he picked you up to put you in y'all shared bed and you had already fallen asleep due to your lack of sleep the previous day.

A/n- sorry if this sucked I'm tired and I'm thinking about putting my one shots and stuff onto my wattpad let me know what y'all think!!