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thrillingdetectivetales · 4 years

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Hi everyone! I am beyond pleased to announce the first annual Heavy Artillery HBO War Holiday Fic Exchange. Sign up to swap a fic with another mystery member of the HBO War fandom on September 21, 2020, and revel in the gift provided to you in exchange on December 23, 2020. If you're unfamiliar with how a fic exchange works, check out the FAQ section below the read more.

SCHEDULE:

September 21, 2020: Sign-ups open at 10 AM CST. (Link will be provided in a separate post.) October 5, 2020: Sign-ups close at 8 PM CST. October 7, 2020: Assignments go out. October 28, 2020: Check in #1. November 18, 2020: Check in #2/default deadline. December 16, 2020: Fic due by 8 PM CST. December 23, 2020: Collection goes live at 10 AM CST. December 30, 2020: Author reveals.

SIGN-UP INFO:

To participate in the Holiday Fic Exchange, you will need:

an AO3 account—to post your fic to the collection

a Dreamwidth account, or an e-mail, or both—to receive your assignment

You'll be allowed to make up to ten requests and up to ten offers total. All completed fic must be at least 1,000 words long, in English, to qualify.

If you have any questions that aren't answered in the FAQ below, feel free to reach out to yours truly here on Tumblr or via Discord: thrillingdetectivetales#5966.

FAQ:

What is a fic exchange? Precisely what it sounds like! You write a fic for another member of fandom while a mystery author writes one for you, and then you exchange them. (Note: the person you are writing for will not necessarily be writing for you, though in a fandom this size it is a possibility.)

How detailed do my requests have to be? As detailed as you like! You can offer as little as "wing!fic plz" or expand into entire paragraphs. Just keep in mind that while fic writers will do their best to accommodate your needs, they are individuals with distinctive styles and voices, and as such will bring their own flare to any request you make. Which is all part of the fun!

Here are some sample requests, to give you an idea of what they could look like*:

What about my offers? Likewise, your offers can be as sparse or as detailed as you like. Here are some sample offers, to give you an idea of what they could look like*:

*Your requests/offers don’t have to follow the exact format of the samples provided. They’re just there to get you started. Am I allowed to request/offer more than one pairing/fandom? You're welcome to request and offer as many pairings in as many fandoms as you like, provided that they fit within the 10 request and offer slots you'll be allotted on the sign-up form.

I only write [insert character/ship here]. Do I have to offer or request more than one character/ship? For the moment, I am allowing participants to only offer to write one character or ship. If this proves too difficult when time comes for matching, I'll reach out to participants who have only offered to write one character/ship and require that they provide two more options to ensure that everyone in the exchange receives a gift. Overall, I would encourage you to at least offer more than one character or pairing, even if you only request one, as variety makes my job considerably simpler. You can limit your requests to a single character or pairing if you'd like, but be aware that it may make pairing you with a writer more difficult. There's some stuff I really don't like. Will I have the option to request that my writer excludes those things and that I don't have to write them? Of course! There will be a DNW option in both the requests and offers portions of the sign-up form that allows you to specify any content you don't want to see or include in both the fic you write and the fic you receive. How are assignments generated? This year, because I anticipate the exchange being pretty small, yours truly will be matching by hand. What does "default" mean? If you don't think you'll be able to finish your story by the deadline, let me know and you will default on your assignment, which will then be awarded to someone else as a pinch hit. Am I going to get in trouble if I default? Nope! Life happens, and the holidays can get hectic. I would request that you be realistic about your schedule and capabilities to let me know that you're going to default by the default deadline so I don't have to scramble to ensure that all recipients receive a fic, but if you elect to sign up next year, when I hope to run the exchange again, you will not be penalized for defaulting. How do I claim a pinch hit? After the default deadline, all pinch hits will be posted here on the community, where you'll be able to claim them via screened comment on a first-come, first-serve basis. Where can I find the collection? I'll drop a link to the collection here once it's open to post in, and will make a separate post on the Heavy Artillery Dreamwidth community as well. A master list will also be provided here in the community once the collection goes live.

THE RULES:

Rules are subject to change or expand at any time as necessary to ensure that this event remains fun and inclusive. Having said that, rules will not change without an explanation or notice. Likewise, nobody will be punished for breaking the rules without the same consideration. If you have questions about any existing rules or need clarification on anything, you're welcome to reach out to me at any time.

1. Don't be a dick. Pretty straightforward, right? 2. Make sure your fic is appropriately tagged. Yes, this includes the option not to tag, so long as you appropriately apply "Author Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings," etc. 3. No kink shaming. That includes within your requests and your DNW list. Keep it civil or get booted. 4. No prioritizing requests. Basically, don’t list out which of your requests you want most and which you want least, as it can make matching tricky. 5. Do not troll fill or purposefully, maliciously include your recipient's Do-Not-Wants in the gift fic you provide for them. Doing so will result in expulsion from all future Heavy Artillery fic events and potentially blacklisting from the community itself. 6. Do not post your fic to the collection unless it could reasonably be construed as finished. You're welcome to edit or expand your fic until the collection goes live, but I ask that you not post an unfinished work. If you're worried about missing the default deadline but still think you might be able to finish your fic, let me know and I'll do my best to work something out with you.

Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, or if you require clarification on anything.

#heavy artillery holiday fic exchange #heavy artillery holiday fic exchange 2020 #band of brothers #the pacific #generation kill #hbo war #heavy artillery #heavy artillery fandom community

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greyias · 4 years

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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 9

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Theron had been right about the communications. As soon as the strike team got on the ground, their signal nearly winked out and only became viable after Darok’s men erected a temporary signal amplifier to cut through the noise. Even with the that, the signal from Bickell’s armor cam wavered wildly on the holoprojector, making the images captured look like something out of a funhouse mirror.

Of course, that was the only thing remotely “fun” about what they were witnessing.

Chaos reigned as far as the wavy, static camera could see. Sediment had been kicked up and hung in the air in giant clouds, natural rock and stone blasted and scattered about, nearly indistinguishable from the ancient ruins that had been in the process of being delicately excavated and renovated. So many of the Tythonian and Jedaii ruins he’d remembered from Theron’s one trip to the planet now reduced to rubble.

He had a hard time placing the feeling welling up inside him at seeing the destruction wrought on the past. They had just done the same to Korriban, but that hadn’t hit him in the same way at all. On one hand, he was not a Jedi. Technically this wasn’t his past or his culture anymore that had been attacked — but there was a small part of him that still… it was stupid. He tried to shove that feeling down with the rest of everything he was very studiously ignoring. Because that was how the job was done.

The camera moved as Bickell started to step out onto the field, but the image jerked wildly as its wearer was yanked back. Moments later, the a mortar shell obliterated the spot the soldier was about to step into. The cacophony in Theron’s headset nearly deafened him while the image from Bickell’s camera stilled into something less likely to trigger motion sickness as the lieutenant and the rest of his squadron ducked back into the relative safety of the landing zone.

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” Somehow over the ringing in his ears, Theron was only able to make out just the slightest quaver in Bickell’s voice. Apparently the close call was enough to rattle even the SpecOp officer’s nearly unflappable demeanor.

“We must look out for each other.” Highwind’s voice was pleasant and warm, and probably meant to be comforting. “It appears that we have quite the task before us.”

“Yeah,” Theron cut in over the comm, “that was definitely a close call.”

“What am I looking at here, Theron?”

“Sensor data is sketchy, but from what I’ve been able to decipher the Imps have dug their heels in, all the way to the temple.”

“I suppose we should expect nothing less,” she said mildly, although there was something in her tone that somehow let him know there was a considerable amount of emotion being suppressed. He could sympathize.

“That heavy artillery is going to make for a lot of casualties if we attempt any large-scale deployment.”

“Then we must do something about that.”

Her small but striking figure stepped into the view of the camera as she surveyed the scene before her. Most subtle expressions would have been hard to interpret with the wildly dancing image, but her deep frown was still evident on this end.

“Sensor data is sketchy at best. The Imp’s signal scrambling is doing a number on getting reliable data.”

Without any preamble, she pulled out a set of macrobinoculars, presenting them to the camera feed. “Can you patch into these?”

He couldn’t readily identify the make or model of the device, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Get me an uplink.”

She made a motioning gesture, and Theron heard Teeseven’s telltale whistle as the droid rolled into view. A quick connection to the port of the macrobinoculars to the astromech later, and the device online.

A message flashed in the HUD on Theron’s ocular implants: T7 = establishing uplink now.

Theron’s fingers flew across the keyboard: Nice to see you again, buddy.

T7 + Theron = unstoppable slicing force.

Despite himself, he let a little grin slip. You got that right. You ready to show these Imps who’s boss?

T7 = always ready.

Yeah, okay. Theron could see why Highwind was fond of the little guy.

The display of the macrobinoculars appeared in the HUD, and he absently grabbed a datapad to help sort through the sensor data that was now flooding through. Those were some very fancy macrobinoculars. Fancier than some he could get from the SIS — and if the situation had been any different, he might have grilled Highwind on where she managed to acquire this kind of tech on a Jedi’s budget. A mystery for later, he reminded himself.

So many mysteries with this woman.

“That structure just behind that line of trees there — can you zoom in on that?”

“Hold on,” Highwind said, following his instructions.

A line of data streamed across his vision, and he frowned as he realized what he was looking at. “That’s it. Damn crafty bastards.”

“What?”

“That’s a Republic artillery targeting array — looks like they decided to take up recycling after trashing the place. It’s what feeding coordinates to the bombardment.”

“I see.” In his mind’s eye, he imagined her lips pressing into a thin line. “Would taking that out stop the artillery so the rest of the troops can land?”

“Yes, but I don’t see how—”

“Leave this to me.”

The feed from the macrobinoculars shifted, zooming out before being set down on a slightly shorter surface. Judging by the height, probably on top of Teeseven’s head.

Over the earpiece, Theron could hear Doc groaning. “Oh no, she’s got that look in her eye again.”

Scourge let out what sounded like the longest, most suffering sigh that could have ever been breathed, a sound Theron hadn’t quite imagined he’d ever hear from a Sith.

Kira cut in quickly, “Maybe I can—”

All of it was cut off instantly when the Jedi in question spoke to them firmly. “You all stay here. I will not be long.”

“Wait,” Theron said, realization slowly dawning that the Defender’s crew seemed to be catching onto something quicker than him, “what exactly is your—?”

A rush of noise took over the audio feed, completely drowning him out. Theron’s gaze cut back over to the feed from Bickell’s armor cam to see the flickering image of a caped figure racing across the battlefield and blasting site at an almost inhuman speed. She bounded from one spot to the next, looking like a rabbit merely hopping about. Showers of dirt and rock exploded into the air as the bombardment followed in her wake.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Theron tried to yell, but the cacophony on the other end drowned him out. There was no way she could hear him, and even if she could, it was doubtful he’d be able to hear any reply over the explosions.

The feed from Bickell’s camera showed that Doc, Rusk, and the rest of the strike team with long range weaponry were laying down cover fire against the ground troops from the relative safety of the landing zone. The targeting array lay at just the edge of the camera’s visual range, and Theron could just make out the clearly insane Jedi whirling in and taking out the guards with lightsabers and the aid of her team’s cover fire. And then.

Then she stopped.

If Theron was being honest with himself, for just one moment, something in his chest thudded to a halt. His breath caught in his throat as the tiny figure on the camera tipped her face to the sky as if she were calling out a challenge. Comprehension dawned on him and he realized what she was doing. But he could only watch in horrified fascination to see if her daft plan would be successful.

It was dangerous. Insane. And if Theron Shan had been gifted with the Force, with all of the extra physical prowess it granted, he was pretty sure it would be something he would try.

His feed beeped at him as the sensors lit up, indicating incoming fire.

“You’ve got a bombardment heading your way,” he growled at her.

“Perfect,” she said, and he was pretty sure he could hear a grin in her voice.

On the wavering feed, Theron watched as she bounded off, cape fluttering behind her as the bombardment came down on the position she had just been in — and took the targeting array with it in an explosion of fire, metal, and smoke that completely obscured the camera’s feed.

As the smoke began to clear, the image did as well, and he could make out Highwind marching back toward the troops. Her cape billowed behind her in full, and between her bearing, the sunlight glinting off her armor, and the grim determination set on her face, she looked like some sort of avenging angel.

Theron’s heart started thumping in his chest in full-time again, even if maybe it skipped one beat or two at the sight. He didn’t notice that as the blood rushed back through his veins, and a wave of relief — and something else he didn’t have the time nor patience to identify — rushed over him, leaving him almost light headed.

Had it been another time or place, he might have even admitted that the entire spectacle was more than a little bit of a—

“Your Jedi is insane, Shan.”

Theron turned his glare onto Darok, although he couldn’t exactly argue with the sentiment as something similar had been running through his head. Similar, but not exactly the same. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, took in a deep breath, and let it out.

Focus, he reminded himself.

“Does that help any?” Highwind asked in that maddeningly deceptive calm of hers, although Theron could still detect just a hint of smugness peeking through.

And for some reason, it was that that made Theron forget himself, for just a moment. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten killed!”

“It worked, though.”

A horrible, no-good thought entered Theron’s mind: Was this what Marcus Trant felt like every day? No. No, she would not have him sympathizing with Marcus over his own stunts in the line of duty. He almost missed the raised eyebrow from Darok, probably amused over the spy clearly having zero control over his asset. In a fit of pique, Theron shoved away from the console to the most remote corner of the room, his voice dropping into an approximation of that deceptive calm Highwind seemed so quick to employ.

“And what would have happened if you had died pulling that stunt?”

“I didn’t — the Force was with me.”

That calm slipped away from him. Theron was never really that good at holding onto it anyway. “This time.”

“I am open to alternative plans if you have a better idea on gaining more ground.”

Theron ground his teeth together, snorting out a breath, as that little voice in the back of his mind reminded him in almost a mocking tone that he was her handler. It was his job to get her to perform — and she had done so admirably. Flashy even. Better than he could have if he’d been there. And he had no idea about what part of that bothered him the most. If any of that was even the real issue.

“You do realize there are two more targeting arrays just like that one?”

She let out a quiet breath, as if maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t occurred to her. “Two more?”

“I doubt they’re just going to blow up the other two for you, no matter how fancy your footwork.”

“Well…” Was that a bit of consternation peeking through that Jedi calm? “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

After this was over, Theron was taking up drinking. Heavily.

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lucemiactura · 3 years

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Heavy Artillery Holiday Exchange Letter

hello there, anonymous gifter!

this little letter is just as a guide to navigate some of the things that are general likes of mine, as well as the things that i tend to avoid.

likes

- stories that deal with internal conflict. character studies are some of my favorite fics to read for the simple reason that introspection is my jam.

- hurt/comfort. physical and emotional hurt/comfort are both good. for emotional h/c, stories that explore the fact that relationships are hard, but worth it. fight-kiss-and-make-up fics are some of my favorites. especially those that deal with seemingly small/unimportant issues that actually are kinda important.

- class difference and sexuality revelations. class difference, sexuality revelations/crisis or other external or internal factors that can cause some real insecurities regarding identity.

- exploration of mental illness. for this fandom, PTSD is the big one. but honest portrayals of what living with that might entail, even the more unsavory details are very appreciated.

- non-verbal communication. mutual understandings conveyed through actions, looks, touches, sighs and just, a general feel that things have resolved.

- canon era aka The Times: for The Pacific, this means the 40s to maybe early 60s. for Generation Kill, it's the early 00's. i don't expect a deep-dive into google for the year a certain brand went out of production. but if stuff like the political climate, especially regarding period-typical homophobia plays a role, it's a huge plus!

- ... and the kinkier tags. for smut, i'm partial to over-stimulation, orgasm denial, outdoors (not exhibitionism!) and doggy style.

dislikes

- overt kink. hints at d/s dynamics, light spontaneous bondage and mild pain play are fine. but in general, less is more. no ropes, leather, whips, anything that needs explicit safe-words etc. etc.

- alternate universes. usually my jam, but not in this fandom or these ships. a little magical realism is fine.

- rule 63 or gender-related conflicts. i'm very picky with these, so i tend to avoid it.

- switching POV. self-explantory.

- happy-ever-afters. no marriage (unless it's for convenience), no kids. a dog is fine.

- Brad/Nate. i like Nate as a character, include him how much or little as you want, but no Brad/Nate please. not even as a background relationship in a GK character study.

more specific things for the ships i've requested:

Brad/Ray: they're a disaster, but also playful. they're interesting because they're opposites and also very alike. i like my Brad as a stoic, competent, intelligent and witty individual who is in tune with his emotions, but an utter disaster at expressing them with words. especially at home and with the people that he cares about. i like my Ray as a Mensa-level genius, both regarding conventional intelligence as well as emotional. he can be his general gremlin-like person, but i also like him more mellowed out and soft-spoken. he's much better at expressing his emotions, and if he has to be a little too patient with Brad and his issues, that's all good!

Sledge/Snafu: they're each other's opposite in almost all the ways. Gene who is gentle, kind and composed until he's not. Snaf who is kinda feral, mean and unhinged, until he's not, and especially around Gene. feel free to do almost whatever with them, as long as the general dynamic stays the same.

thank you so much for taking your time to read through! i hope you found some helpful info, and good luck writing! ♡

#heavy artillery holiday exchange #dear anon letter

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mercurygray · 7 years

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So, I hear you liked TURN.

Apres the Season 4 finale, I know there’s going to be a lot of crying, and hand-wringing, and rewatching, and these are all good and proper things to do in the wake of a TV show you’ve enjoyed.

But after the smoke clears from all of that, you’re maybe going to go looking for your next 18th century fix, just something in between rewatches or while you’re trying to flesh out your next story idea. (Hey, now that we have our canon, go hog-wild on story ideas, guys, seriously.)

So I’ve saved you some trouble and made you all a helpful list.

Obviously there are a lot of movies and TV shows out there - this is just a selection that I wish more people knew about.

Note: Everyone enjoys a show or movie for different reasons. These shows are on this list because of the time period they depict, not because of the quality of their writing, the accuracy of their history or the political nature of their content. Where I’m able to, I’ve mentioned if a book is available if you’d like to read more.

Before we get to the rest of the list, there are three excellent shows that are either currently on television or about to be very soon:

Poldark (BBC/PBS) is based on a series of books by an author named Winston Graham. It was made into a PBS series in the 70s starring Robin Ellis as the handsome Captain Poldark, who returns from the American Revolution to find his family farm in tatters and his long-time love interest married to his cousin. Drama ensues. The 70s series is worth your time, and the recent remake with Aidan Turner in the title role is also definitely worth a go. (If you like leading men who make terrible life decisions and the women who put up with them, this is totally your show.)

Harlots (Hulu) - If you really loved the TURN ladies, thought Lola and Philomena deserved more than they got, or are just interested to learn more about what life might have been like for the lower classes in London in the 1750s, have we got a deal for you. Harlots follows the lives of 18th century sex workers in this new drama, which was just recently renewed for a totally deserved second season. Female-lead ensemble drama. A little violent at points and deals with some pretty heavy-duty topics like rape, murder, and bastardy, but in a humane and understanding way. Totally bingeable.

Outlander (Starz) - Based on the wildly popular series of books by Diana Gabaldon, this time traveling drama jumps between a couple of different centuries and follows the story of Jamie and Claire, two very strong personalities trying to literally find their place in history. (Hewlett talks about the blade his grandfather picked up at Culloden; that battle forms a critical part of this show’s storyline.) It’s a real pretty show with very high production values.

And, without further ado, the rest of the list!

John Adams: If you haven’t watched this already, do yourself a favor and go pick it up from the library. Starring Paul Giametti in the title role, this HBO miniseries follows John Adams’ role in the formation of America, through his early days in Congress up through his own presidency. As with any biographical show, characters that we know and love from other media (Rufus Sewell’s Hamilton comes to mind, but see what you think of David Morse’s Washington, too) are presented in a slightly different light and provide some food for thought about how history can be selective in how it remembers us. The costuming is great, the sets are fantastic, and the acting is first-rate.

The Patriot: An oldie but a goodie. Mel Gibson plays a highly fictionalized version of Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox while Jason Isaacs turns in a really stellar hottie we love to hate in Colonel Tavington. A little heavy-handed at times, this is a good movie to laugh over with friends.

Sons of Liberty: I’ll be really honest - for a show from the History Channel, the history on this show is pretty awful. But the cast is pretty. This one’s up to you, really. It fills a hole.

Garrow’s Law: William Garrow was a barrister and a pioneering legal mind in the 18th century, and this show (which ran for 3 seasons) is based on real Old Bailey cases and Garrow’s defenses, while also working in his fraught social life. Were you interested in learning a little more about Abe Woodhull’s erstwhile legal training? This is the show for you.

City of Vice: A miniseries that explains the origins and work of the Bow Street Runners, one of London’s first police forces. Does a great job of opening up some of the early 18th century underside of London including a smidge of 18th century gay culture.

A Harlot’s Progress: William Hogarth was an 18th century artist, printmaker and social commentator whose “A Harlot’s Progress” famously depicts the downfall of a woman who goes into prostitution. This 2006 series explores the relationship that inspired the ‘Harlot’ piece.

The Incredible Journey of Mary Bryant: At around the same time America was busy trying to figure itself out, halfway around the world another one of Britain’s colonial possessions - Australia - was just getting started. Hundreds of convicts found themselves stuffed in ships and sent to the other side of the world - a sentence deemed almost more humane. This 2005 series with Romala Garai follows a very famous convict, Mary Bryant, and her experiences.

Banished: Another take on penal colonies in Australia. Currently available on Hulu.

Black Sails: A more recent offering from Starz, this show explores the backstory of the pirates in Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island. Lots of great representation issues, a whole lot of ‘how does your story get told’ - and there’s a real big community on Tumblr who loves it and very actively produces all kinds of fic.

Clarissa - Simcoe fans, this one is totally for you. Based on the epistolary novel by Samuel Richardson, Clarissa follows a girl of the same name as the infamous rake Lovelace tries to seduce her. Another look at what how women can be corrupted. Also, for you fandom nerds in the crowd, Lovelace was one of the first characters to inspire fix-it fic. Yes, really! Fix-it fic in the late 1700s. Lovelace is one of the original men for whom the ‘No, really, I can reform him’ trope was created. (Richardson, his creator, was so horrified by this reaction by his fans that he actually revised the book several times to try and make Lovelace even more villainous and irredeemable, with little success. Then as now, women apparently love the idea of a bad boy.)

Amazing Grace - The history of slavery in England and its colonies is complicated and nuanced; this story deals with one of the more famous names from that story, William Wilberforce, and his contribution.

Belle - Based on the true story of Dido Elizabeth Belle, the mixed race daughter of a Royal Navy Admiral. Another look at racial politics in England.

The Aristocrats - One of my all-time favorite TV miniseries and based on the nonfiction book by Stella Tilyard, this show follows the (actual, nonfictional) Lennox sisters, daughters of the Duke of Richmond as they grow up, marry, and adjust to rapid social change from the early 1700s into the 1790s.

The Duchess - About the same time the Lennox sisters were out in society, so was Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire. This is based on (I’m not sure how closely) Amanda Foreman’s biography of Georgiana, one of the leading ladies of her day.

Dangerous Liasons - Another story about corruptible young women, this one has 3 very well deserved Oscars to its name and an absolutely stunning Glenn Close.

Barry Lyndon - a very evocative, sumptuous film by Stanley Kubrick. Short on action, but very, very Aesthetic, as only Kubrick can do.

The Scarlet Pimpernel - Based on the book by Baroness Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel is largely considered to be one of the world’s first ‘superhero with a secret identity’ stories. Sir Percy Blakeney uses his identity as a dim-witted fop to provide cover for his activities rescuing French aristocrats from the guillotine during the French Revolution. The 1982 version with Anthony Andrews and the 1999 version with Richard Grant are both a lot of fun.

Speaking of the French, where would we be without them? Our small domestic dust-up with Britain has far-reaching international consequences, setting in motion so many other social movements in Europe. The French, for instance, will have their own revolution several years after ours, which, of course, will lead to a total political shakeup ending with an artillery officer named Napoleon Bonaparte on the throne as Emperor. (You may have heard of him. He goes on to have his own series of large wars and, you know, completely changes the geo-political landscape of Europe. Like you do.)

La Revolution Francaise, filmed for the 200th anniversary of the Revolution, is available on YouTube in it’s entirety with English subtitles! Starts in 1774 and goes through the 1800s. C’est merveilleux.

Marie Antoinette - Sofia Coppola’s wild, modern romp through the life of one of the 18th century’s most notorious women. It may not be great history, but darn me if it isn’t fun to watch.

Farewell, My Queen - Another story about Marie Antoinette - this one is in French.

Nicolas Le Floch: An 18th century crime procedural set at the court of Louis XVI. The whole show is in French, so watch with subtitles, but the costumes are a lot of fun and it gives an interesting picture of the life a character like Lafayette would have left behind when he came to America. (He gets name dropped a few times, actually, though he never actually appears.)

Ekaterina: A 2014 miniseries from Russia discussing the rise of Catherine the Great, the Empress of Russia from 1762 to 1796, contemporaneous to the Revolution. The 18th century is a fascinating time in Russian history and Catherine is a really, really interesting lady. Totally go and read about her.

Anno 1790: A Swedish crime procedural set in 1790s Sweden and following Johann Däadh, a doctor recently roped into the police force. Däadh is a bit of a reformer, interested in the rights of man and giving everyone a chance to be heard. Costumes are fun, and there’s a really great slow-burn romance between two of the characters, one of whom is (gasp) married. This show only ran for one season, but it was a really, really good season.

If you’re still jonesing for period dramas after the rest of this list, here’s a lot of shows and tv series set during the Napoleonic Wars that are also totally worth your time - the Richard Sharpe miniseries, the Horatio Hornblower miniseries, the BBC’s War and Peace, Master and Commander, and then, of course, anything based on a Jane Austen novel.

Have fun!

#turn amc #so i hear you liked

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xadoheandterra · 6 years

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Title: Don’t Write Me A Postscript Chapter: III (I / II / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X / XI / XII / XIII) Fandom: Red vs Blue Characters: Church | Alpha, Dr. Leonard Church | Director, Jerome Dupris | Agent Nevada Summary: He was all sorts of fucked up and didn’t want to admit it. Being alone for fourteen months didn’t help matters--except, well, Church was tired of being alone. Tired of people leaving and dying--and he thought, no more. I’m done. I’m out.

Won’t Say You’re Sorry (I / II / III)

Do You Even Feel Compassion? (I / II)

The first shipment arrived with the materials that Church expected easily enough. What Church hadn’t expected was the supplies not being airdropped and rather the pelican carrying them landing in front of the busted entrance to High Ground. Nevada stepped off of the pelican and began to oversee the movement of the equipment boxes—most of them were small, light things that contained oils and simple mechanical parts Church knew from previous experience. The larger crates, however, Church was at a loss for. Unless they chose to send him some pretty damn expensive heavy artillery Church couldn’t fathom what the larger crates contained.

(this place was safe, right?)

(right?)

Once each crate and box were offloaded the pilot and the few technicians returned to the pelican. Nevada turned toward Church and handed over the manifest.

“You got some nice computer equipment and the materials of a basic set up,” Nevada said, and he sounded rather wry. “It was determined that leaving you with absolutely nothing to entertain yourself except for shooting things was a bad idea. Oh, and that crate?” Nevada gestured to one of the larger crates that the technicians had trouble offloading, “I was told to ‘consider it a gift’ or something. It’s not on the manifest.”

Nevada tilted his head, and Church thought the man might be winking before he paused, then cursed to himself.

“Anyway, gotta go!” Nevada waved. “Keep in touch; remember, weekly updates, kid!”

Church screamed, “I’m not a kid!” as Nevada raced onto the pelican and the rear hatch slid shut. Church watched the bird take off, and then huffed angrily. What was with Project Freelancer and treating him like he was a child?

(I’m almost seven)

(not a child)

(never a child)

Church shook his head and turned toward the crate that Nevada called a gift. He frowned in thought and wondered if the Director honestly sent him a gift or not. More than likely it was Nevada’ way of a gag—he’d learned the other man had quite the pranking streak, referring to Church as a kid or not. Church considered nobody more childish than Nevada—except, maybe, Washington but—

(oh god no)

hesgonehesgonehesgonehesgonehesgonehesgone

(please)

Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault

(why?)

—Church mimed a calming breath, thought back to the anger management classes he’d had years ago—

(hadn’t he?)

—and grabbed the edge of the high-density polymer crate. He dug into the latches and pried them free, and with a grunt Church shoved the lid off. The crate came up to almost his chest height, and the expensive materials in its design made Church wonder just what was so important. The lid crashed to the ground and kicked up enough dust that for a moment Church’s visor was blinded; when it cleared he stared at a large stack of comics.

Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of comics lay in the crate. Church stared, his mouth fell open and for a second his processor skipped. The Director actually listened to him? He couldn’t fathom it. A part of him wanted to dive right in and screw getting the materials into the safe space Church set up as his quarters. Another part of him wanted to wrap the crate up and stuff it in a deep dark hole, uncertain how to feel about the ‘gift’ from a man he hated-loved.

Carefully placed in the exact center of the crate, on top of all the comics, rested a note. Church eyed it for a minute, noted the Director’s precise and neat handwriting that he reserved for when he felt he needed to be formal—far different from the messy scrawl that dotted every notebook the man ever owned—and addressed simply to Private Church. Church froze, and then with quick movements he grabbed at the top of the crate and pulled it back on.

(no)

(how could you?)

(why?)

Church tightened the clamps back down and turned to focus on the supplies as a whole. He needed to get them in to the secure area that he worked hard to get put together out of the ruins of High Ground.

(what angle is this?)

(what do you want?)

Thankfully in the first few days at High Ground Church found a forklift that he quickly retrieved. He loaded the small boxes onto larger crates, and then drove those crates into the base. He focused entirely on his task, and not on the crate of comics—he did bring them in as well, but he left them sealed within their expensive box and put them out of mind. Instead he worked on a means of organization for all of the new supplies—he’d have to expand the secure area, Church noted.

(haven’t you done enough?)

Church began to plan how the expansion would need to work. He removed his power armor and grabbed the scraps of paper and few writing utensils he’d unearthed and began to scribble down calculations and a rough floorplan to work with. It’d take him maybe a week to clear the full area, another to get systems back up and running—and that all depended upon what he did. Tauntingly, by the bed, sat the crate of comics. Church found himself with a frown as he occasionally glanced back at the crate, confused.

(you never cared before)

(so why now?)

(what changed?)

The “weekly” check ins with Agent Nevada lasted a month. A month of avoiding the crate and the shipment supplies that were dropped off filled with books and comics and video games—things to occupy himself with that confused the hell out of him. A month of once a week chats with someone who didn’t treat him like shit all the time, someone Church didn’t feel the need to cuss out all the time, someone who calmed the rage inside. A month to get to know the man behind Agent Nevada.

(Jerome Dupris)

(I liked him)

(he was…nice)

Then all contact disappeared. When Church attempted to radio Agent Nevada he was met with sharp static and nothing. The channel they used was dead.

It left Church feeling sick. The guy had a wife and child he regularly communicated with—least of all Church himself. To hear the man suddenly go silent pulled Church into a frenzy of panic. Part of him hoped the man returned home—returned to his wife returned to apologize—

(he’d asked once)

(just once)

(he never asked again)

The next shipment of supplies—more materials to care for his android body—came without Agent Nevada. That was when Church knew.

(not another one)

(please)

(I liked him)

Church didn’t need the grim faced random troopers who unloaded the supplies to know what had happened. Or at least what he’d expected. The lack of Agent Nevada—

(Jerome Dupris)

(his name)

(important)

—Church shuddered. He hoped he was wrong—he prayed he was wrong. That was when one trooper handed him a letter, silent as the grave. Church had received several letters nestled within crates filled with time wasting items. He’d never read any one of them. This letter though was handed over carefully, the troopers nodded, and left just as silent as they arrived.

Church stared down at the envelope in one hand. He stared at the familiar scrawl—neat and tidy in the way official letters were. Church could remember—

(UNSC personnel)

(Mr. Church there was an—)

(Allison)

(we’re sorry)

(god Allison)

(—no remains recovered—)

(no, no, no you are wrong you are—)

—he mimed a breath and with controlled hands because being a robot in some ways was awesome and he could stop himself from trembling even though he knew he’d be shaking like a leaf. Church never dealt well with bad news. Not in Blood Gulch and not Before. The seal did not part easily—power armor, Church cursed. Of course he had his power armor on. With a grunt Church shifted the letter and stuffed it between his undersuit and the breastplate. He left the supplies outside and stormed inside, back into safety—

(he nearly killed himself there)

(Nevada—Jerome—was so worried)

(kinda funny)

(fuck)

Church grunted and growled to himself as he worked his gloves off, yanked his helmet free once he’d released the latches and it hissed away from his neck. He scrambled to pull the letter out from between his undersuit and his breastplate and now the envelope parted easily beneath almost-human hands. He pulled out the letter inside, dropped the envelope to the ground—Private Church, it said. He’d rather the envelope were addressed to Alpha. He didn’t want to be Private Church right now.

(not another one)

(I can’t)

(not again)

Church unfolded the letter, steeled himself, and began to read.

Dear Private Church,

(pretentious southern asshole)

I regret to inform you that your contact with Agent Nevada will henceforth be no longer required. Due to the Agent in question being no longer in the employ of Project Freelancer, and for your own continued safety. I do apologize if you feel inconvenienced by this change in routine, but it was determined to be for the best.

(what happened?)

(where is)

(stop lying)

All supplies from here on out will be airdropped to you if they are needed. A request for further assistance can be sent through your terminal. Please be aware flooding the terminal with anything not a request for supplies will revoke the privilege.

(privilege?)

(god)

(you’re not my father)

We will contact you once it is deemed safe for you to return.

Sincerely,

The Director of Project Freelancer

Dr. Leonard L. Church

Church wanted to scream. That told him nothing. That—he wondered if the reason he needed to be placed in such a ‘secure’ and remote facility, a base no longer functioning and therefore a place no one knew to look for him; he wondered if it meant whatever was hunting him, found Agent Nevada. He didn’t have a heart anymore, or organs, or a throat, or even tear ducts, but Church felt like he couldn’t breathe anyway.

(you don’t need air)

(you can’t breathe)

(you’re not human) (I am human)

Church felt like his eyes burned, and unbidden he hissed between his teeth and closed them shut. His fingers gripped the letter tight, tight enough to crinkle the paper, to tear—Church stiffened, then relaxed and hastily began to straighten the letter out. He moved over to his desk and carefully set it down, retrieved the envelope and placed it beside the letter. He’d clean it up, maybe repair the paper, and set it aside for safe keeping later. Right now he needed to get the supplies in, focus on unboxing them.

Church mimed a steading breath, and turned out of his safe space. He could do this. He never needed anybody, after all. He’d said so before, he’d say so again. Church would prefer to be alone.

(no one would die on him then)

Church didn’t need anyone.

(liar)

(don’t leave me please don’t leave me)

(I don’t want to be alone)

(don’t make me be alone)

(I’m scared)

(Tex)

Church didn’t need anyone.

Dr. Leonard Church breathed out heavily as he stared at the report in front of him. He’d known this was long coming for him—the weight of his sins settled heavily upon his back. He knew there’d be retribution. Malcom Hargrove would never take his not-so-subtle theft of property laying down. He’d known what the man planned—suspected at least—as soon as he’d been named Chairman of the Oversight Committee. He knew Hargrove spent a lot of money to set that up.

The UNSC had their own special oversight that watched Leonard closely, watched his comings and goings and kept an eye on the results of his experiments—the results of AI working with neural implants and agents. His dear ‘Counselor’ worked to report his every move to the UNSC after all. There was nothing they didn’t already know, nothing that he could truly hide from them. The Great War took a toll on everyone, and sometimes inhumane acts for the betterment and survival of humanity were required.

It left a sour taste in Leonard’s mouth.

The UNSC and ONI never had a problem with Dr. Halsey until recently—through the grapevine and then the widely publicized events following the end of the Great War Leonard heard about Halsey’s subsequent arrest—and, until Leonard’s own project details became public knowledge he knew they’d have no problems with him. As soon as Hargrove’s ‘investigation’ was finished, however, Leonard could expect a cell in some far distant prison ship, left to rot the rest of his life away, or ONI would take command of whatever happened to him.

Leonard felt resigned to the events to come. He couldn’t stop it if he tried, he knew that. The best he could do was mitigate the damage to the surviving members of Project Freelancer, stop Agent Maine from destroying everything—or perhaps it was Sigma now, Leonard couldn’t be sure. At any rate the agent would need to be carefully lead into a place to be put down, the AI he’d captured decommissioned at most, perhaps salvaged at the least as he knew ONI would desire to have Alpha and his fragments in their grasp.

Under any circumstances Leonard truly did not desire to let Alpha or his fragments fall into ONI hands. He’d rather they be removed from the UNSC as a whole; he’d long suspected Alpha had obtained ‘meta-stability’ and in turn could live out a full life, even if it was one that was pretending to be human or even unknowing of just what exactly he was and had always been. Perhaps Alpha would show signs of rampancy later down the road, but for now—for now Leonard could hope that this one thing would go his way.

Then there was Carolina and Washington to consider and Leonard really did not want his sins to fall on their shoulders—he never wanted his sins to fall upon their shoulders. Leonard knew he’d royally messed up—first in that he’d never quite treated David right out of guilt and shame, and second that he’d never really had been all there for Charmaine like she deserved—but if he could get this one thing, this one thing right then maybe he’d could feel less like a hot mess and more like the barely functioning human disaster that he was.

Agent Texas came to mind as she always did, along with Allison, and the grief that still burned through his chest like an inferno at the sudden, intrusive thoughts. Leonard breathed deep and bowed his head, buried his face into his hands and dug his fingers into his hair. Lord above help him and have mercy; he’d need patience to pull this entire mess off and come out at least somewhat functional, if alive. Maybe ONI would let him—

Leonard grit his teeth.

Don’t think on it. Not now.

The worst part about this mess was the disappearance of Agent Nevada. As far as Leonard could tell them man either deserted his post overseeing the slow transition of releasing the Red and Blue sim troopers from their contract with Project Freelancer, or he’d been killed. Neither option left Leonard with much to work with—he didn’t want to leave Alpha completely cut off but now, with how thin his resources were between carefully dismantling his own Project in preparation for the fall, and trying to halt Maine’s advances and rampage, and then keeping Alpha safely tucked away and out of sight—no, Leonard couldn’t spare anyone to hunt down just where Nevada got to.

Another sin to place on his back, Leonard mused, alongside unrepentant torture of his own mind. Leonard always wondered how he might’ve fractured if he’d been pressed—to know did not make him feel remotely better, even when examined clinically. He wasn’t sure which was right; to be a mess of a human being with his own baggage and trauma, or to be a fractured mess of a human being with no memory of his baggage and trauma except within the fragments of his own mind.

And now David knows, or at least suspects. At least Aiden doesn’t suspect I’ve long since known just what their little ‘talks’ entailed. Leonard sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He removed his glances, squinted at the lenses. He’d need to clean them off from his own fingerprints again; damn it all.

Leonard thought to his little gifts to Alpha—the games, the books, the comics, the limited access to a network connection—and hoped that his AI accepted them. Little acts of kindness do not years of trauma make up, Leonard knew, and yet he couldn’t help but try. He couldn’t help but offer the snippets he’d denied the AI for so long, after so much pain and loss.

It didn’t work on you, why would it work on him? his mind traitorously whispered. Leonard sighed. He just hoped Alpha understood—even if he didn’t remember. Was any of it right? No. Not it wasn’t, and Leonard knew that. Leonard knew that he’d crossed boundaries; he’d long accepted his own sins.

Allison, his thoughts betrayed. Allison, Allison, Allison. She haunted him and Leonard found himself drawn once more back to her. He had to—there was a chance—but only after he’d dealt with Agent Maine. Only after this mess with Hargrove was done. Once Alpha was truly safe, truly free, then, Leonard consoled the specter in his thoughts and in his office, then he’d work on getting it right.

#rvb #red vs blue #leonard chuch #the director #alpha ai #fanfi #fic: don't write me a postscript #walking human disaster #what is even happening now #minor character death #agent nevada #alpha church #mental health issues

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