Called you by your hundred names
Okay. Okay. Calming down. I'm posting this, and then I'm off to lunch. This is the final tally from that Shakespeare drabble request meme. Awesome prompts, you guys! Thank you so much.
1. RICHARD: That was in thy rage.
Ronald Speirs for ceitfiannaIn war he became more himself. He'd suspected that would be the case his whole life, but it unfurled within him during the long years of training, flaring out and around him when he threw himself from a C-47 over the teeth of Normandy. That the war didn't consume him confirmed it: this was where he lived, at his most useful, every fiber and bone and thought in him thrumming with it.
Those so devoted to a thing may set the rules for it. He became leaner after the rumors started, and more effective. To leave when it was over -- to what end? To force himself to lie dormant?
(Landsberg overwhelmed him. The machinery of fighting he understood, but not this. Not this.)
2. Speak it again, and, even with the word
Eugene Roe for chanter_greenieHe still jumps when he hears it, in the news, in passing, in casual conversation, even though it's been years and years since he had to run toward it. There's muscle memory at work there, for which he trained himself too well. Medical bills, medical abnormality, medicinal herbs, medical treatment, medically impossible, medicated, medication, Medicare, Medicaid, medic, medic! Medic! Medic!
3. This hand, for which thy love did kill thy love
Sam Winchester, for varadia (post-5.02, pre-5.04)When Sam dreams of the angels, it's like that year before Cold Oak was just a warm-up. They come sweeping, flooding, crashing against him, the colors not named yet, the light inescapable. He gets it, what Jimmy said about being chained to a comet. The dreams yank him from wakefulness, forcing him to sleep and to see them for hours at a time. It's lost momentum, with no Dean to shake him awake and keep moving. Sam can't get anything he wants to done.
The angel -- one angel? -- the dreams are terrifying, accusatory, a ceaseless, cacaphony (which just figures, since why should they sing like he's always believed?). One night, though, when his head feels thick and his eyes are bruised and swollen, he grips his pillow and looks the dream in the face.
We're brothers, he says quietly. Men. It's what we do. That's how we are.
When he wakes up the first thing he does is reach for his phone.
4. Shall for thy love kill a far truer love.
Eugene Roe for foofighter0234Winters he understands. No way around it: the men are instruments. You can't think of them as men, not like he's used to doing. They're wrapped in human shapes but they are what will bring down the Axis Power, and that takes strategy and movement and the ability to forgive yourself if some of them are lost.
Gene sees it. They're the same coin, different sides. Winters, he has to keep them together, stir emotion without it snaring you in, make them love each other so they'll walk right up to death and fire at it. Gene holds them together with his hands, thinking pressure, morphine, elevate the head, sulfa powder, bandage, shrapnel, splint. Nowhere does he have room for the rest. Alley, father owns a hardware store. Heffron, two other brothers in the service. Hoobler, left his mother and no one else. Perconte, has never seen his baby son.
5. To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory.
Ursa (Avatar: The Last Airbender) for bookelfe"Oh," said her mother-in-law when Ursa brought her suspicion to her. "You must be sure they don't kill each other, then."
She spoke it so calmly, Ursa frowned to hear it. "I speak from experience," she continued. "You cannot help but to raise my son's children as great Firebenders. They are Ozai's children. Your job now becomes to keep them both alive."
Close by in the palace, Zuko was sleeping, his skin baby-sweet and soft. "The next child will be named for your honored husband," Ursa said. "It is decided." Her mother-in-law pressed her lips together and drew in a breath; hands folded, she would not look weary.
6. ANNE: I would I knew thy heart.
Lewis Nixon for mardiaNixon will tell Strayer anything he needs. Sink asks, and Strayer assigns, and Nixon comes back with the shape of the whole countryside, all the pieces and relationships falling in place with brilliant clarity. Strayer appreciates his staff more than he can say, and anything that helps end the war a little earlier, however soberly accomplished, is good for everyone as far as he's concerned.
Some things Strayer finds for himself. He's come to expect a certain level of excellence with Nixon, and it comes through when he scouts ahead of Dog or Fox Company. If Strayer needs something for Easy, though, he makes sure to tell Nixon early. Nixon will range far and wide, and take a little bit longer before he comes back. The intelligence is overwhelming, even for him. These reports are thorough in all the most necessary ways. Strayer doesn't complain, nor has he said anything yet, but he might. If Nixon is so capable, he should take care of all his companies as well as he looks out for Easy.
9. RICHARD: Then never was man true.
Prometheus for adiva_calandiaOh, he laughed when they bound him. The opportunity was there, and so little of it would come his way as the years wore on and the mountains would not escape him.
"It is men did this to you," the hapless forger tried to tell him. "You brought this on yourself."
"Men!" He laughed again, louder and harder, and the sky threatened to crack at it. "Humankind is my gift to the gods, to Zeus most of all." The irons sizzled as the hammers flashed. Prometheus fought, but mostly as a gesture.
"Men," he choked out, as the binders held him still. "My greatest gift. Don't you see it? Don't you see it, Father Zeus? Be good to them always, Brontios, Astrapios. Live well and forever. I made them just like me."
10. ANNE: Well, well, put up your sword.
Zachariah (SPN) for clayworshippersAll right, calm down, calm down. You want an answer? I'll give you an answer. How about you picture this for me: It's the end. The credits have rolled, the lights are up, the reel's been put away. Nothing's left alive, so nothing's left to die, and nobody's watching, so what's to stop the other guy from doing whatever he wants? You think demons are chaotic? Hell is the reflection of Heaven, and let me tell you, we know our places, son. Packs of hyenas, wolves, wild dogs, jackals have nothing on demon hierarchies. Now think about what happens when they're done with minding their place. They've got something to prove, and they're out to prove it to everybody. You really want immortal souls caught in the middle of that?
Good story, right? No. I didn't think so.
That's right, thought you'd forgotten about that thing you're carrying. Take it up again, that's it.
This time, do it right.
11. RICHARD: Say then my peace is made.
Joe Liebgott for eudaimonThe artillery guy hesitates. "You sure you don't want to see her?" Joe doesn't answer: he lies on his back, staring at the ragged hammock above his. His cigarette is still long. The artillery guy nods and hustles toward the stairs that lead to the deck.
Lady Liberty. He's seen her once. She'll still be there when he steps off the gangplank. The Brooklyn Naval Yard -- hell, he never thought he'd go there again.
The hull of the transport ship has gone quiet. First time in too long, that's for certain. Rough seas, ten-day trip. Joe almost picked a fight with a guy, just because, but he couldn't, he couldn't not think fists and legs and son of Abraham.
The officers said there'd be a ceremony. You get off, you mill around, you're thanked for your service and then you're let go. Joe stares at the lit end of his smoke. A big woman with big titties: well, she's waiting for them all in the harbor, and here he still is. Where the hell is he gonna go?
A voice brushes up against him, If you need someplace to stay. Joe rolls onto his side and snuffs the cigarette out.
12. ANNE: That thou shalt know hereafter.
Anna (SPN) for winding_pathThe first time she was an angel, she was so confident in the Plan, all of Creation a latticework of events, all the many worlds perfect in their imperfect arrangements. Even the dissonances were beautiful, even if they grieved her and her band. The certainty was worthy of praise, of hymnals: what work! What craft!
That was very early on. When she became a woman and forgot all those things, she learned on the ground about time's smallest measures, how a moment is constantly breathing and choosing and how that movement can take any direction without dictation. It fortified her love when she was an angel once more: the knowable in the moment only, and then the next, and the next, hereafter and forever, forward, forward, forward and again.
She will choose her next step, one foot before the other. Her heart gladdens that she did not give that back.
13. RICHARD: But shall I live in hope?
Harry Welsh for skew_whiffHe sat there and felt it, every salty bead of sweat slipping down his back. Static hissed over the radio. He opened one eye. "Any word?" His throat was still half-raw.
"Nothing." Luz rolled a dial between his fingers. "Perconte said he got Glenn Miller before, though."
Harry snorted, one corner of his mouth curling. "Wake me when Marlene comes on."
Luz's smirk was fully audible. "Just her, or will any German do?"
His eyes slipped shut against, though a grin stole over his face, sly-cat pleased with itself. "Regular Germans, wake me up. Marlene, get the hell out of here and let her to the honors."
14. ANNE: All men I hope live so.
Donald Malarkey for theartisan7Instructions for surviving the line:
Think of your parents. Think of the girls you left behind. Think of the girls you'd never meet otherwise. Think of the train ride from New York back home. Think of the poets you've always loved. Think of the peace of the journey back. Think of the smell of the tall trees, the pines. Think of your river and the quiet in the woods. Think of the laughter in pubs and bars. Think of the men who also serve. Think of the first drop, the glory jumps, the night you got your wings and bloused your trousers over your boots. Think of the march you made, that beat the Japanese army. Think of the jokes you've made, the smokes you've shared, the friend at your shoulder right now. Think of the arc of your mortar, the things you know that let the Germans get as much as they give. Think that you have this much. Think of the hour you can wash the grime away.
16. ANNE: To take is not to give.
Alton More for pneumatiqueMalarkey stared. "Jesus, where the hell'd you get that?"
Muck chuckled to himself, his eyes almost disappearing. "You'd think that was the guy's name. Think we could train him to answer to it?"
Alton just moved his mouth, that Wild West hint at a smile. "Are you talking or are you taking? I saw Welsh with this stuff, it's probably good."
"Good?" Malarkey took the calvados and examined it. "You could win a war with this stuff. It's heavy-duty."
Muck snatched at the jug, cigarette clamped between his lips. "Sure the French are okay with you lifting their secret weapon, Alton?"
"I ain't here for the French," he said, quiet. His face went stony again, or maybe that was just that the angle and the light.
1. RICHARD: That was in thy rage.
Ronald Speirs for ceitfiannaIn war he became more himself. He'd suspected that would be the case his whole life, but it unfurled within him during the long years of training, flaring out and around him when he threw himself from a C-47 over the teeth of Normandy. That the war didn't consume him confirmed it: this was where he lived, at his most useful, every fiber and bone and thought in him thrumming with it.
Those so devoted to a thing may set the rules for it. He became leaner after the rumors started, and more effective. To leave when it was over -- to what end? To force himself to lie dormant?
(Landsberg overwhelmed him. The machinery of fighting he understood, but not this. Not this.)
2. Speak it again, and, even with the word
Eugene Roe for chanter_greenieHe still jumps when he hears it, in the news, in passing, in casual conversation, even though it's been years and years since he had to run toward it. There's muscle memory at work there, for which he trained himself too well. Medical bills, medical abnormality, medicinal herbs, medical treatment, medically impossible, medicated, medication, Medicare, Medicaid, medic, medic! Medic! Medic!
3. This hand, for which thy love did kill thy love
Sam Winchester, for varadia (post-5.02, pre-5.04)When Sam dreams of the angels, it's like that year before Cold Oak was just a warm-up. They come sweeping, flooding, crashing against him, the colors not named yet, the light inescapable. He gets it, what Jimmy said about being chained to a comet. The dreams yank him from wakefulness, forcing him to sleep and to see them for hours at a time. It's lost momentum, with no Dean to shake him awake and keep moving. Sam can't get anything he wants to done.
The angel -- one angel? -- the dreams are terrifying, accusatory, a ceaseless, cacaphony (which just figures, since why should they sing like he's always believed?). One night, though, when his head feels thick and his eyes are bruised and swollen, he grips his pillow and looks the dream in the face.
We're brothers, he says quietly. Men. It's what we do. That's how we are.
When he wakes up the first thing he does is reach for his phone.
4. Shall for thy love kill a far truer love.
Eugene Roe for foofighter0234Winters he understands. No way around it: the men are instruments. You can't think of them as men, not like he's used to doing. They're wrapped in human shapes but they are what will bring down the Axis Power, and that takes strategy and movement and the ability to forgive yourself if some of them are lost.
Gene sees it. They're the same coin, different sides. Winters, he has to keep them together, stir emotion without it snaring you in, make them love each other so they'll walk right up to death and fire at it. Gene holds them together with his hands, thinking pressure, morphine, elevate the head, sulfa powder, bandage, shrapnel, splint. Nowhere does he have room for the rest. Alley, father owns a hardware store. Heffron, two other brothers in the service. Hoobler, left his mother and no one else. Perconte, has never seen his baby son.
5. To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory.
Ursa (Avatar: The Last Airbender) for bookelfe"Oh," said her mother-in-law when Ursa brought her suspicion to her. "You must be sure they don't kill each other, then."
She spoke it so calmly, Ursa frowned to hear it. "I speak from experience," she continued. "You cannot help but to raise my son's children as great Firebenders. They are Ozai's children. Your job now becomes to keep them both alive."
Close by in the palace, Zuko was sleeping, his skin baby-sweet and soft. "The next child will be named for your honored husband," Ursa said. "It is decided." Her mother-in-law pressed her lips together and drew in a breath; hands folded, she would not look weary.
6. ANNE: I would I knew thy heart.
Lewis Nixon for mardiaNixon will tell Strayer anything he needs. Sink asks, and Strayer assigns, and Nixon comes back with the shape of the whole countryside, all the pieces and relationships falling in place with brilliant clarity. Strayer appreciates his staff more than he can say, and anything that helps end the war a little earlier, however soberly accomplished, is good for everyone as far as he's concerned.
Some things Strayer finds for himself. He's come to expect a certain level of excellence with Nixon, and it comes through when he scouts ahead of Dog or Fox Company. If Strayer needs something for Easy, though, he makes sure to tell Nixon early. Nixon will range far and wide, and take a little bit longer before he comes back. The intelligence is overwhelming, even for him. These reports are thorough in all the most necessary ways. Strayer doesn't complain, nor has he said anything yet, but he might. If Nixon is so capable, he should take care of all his companies as well as he looks out for Easy.
9. RICHARD: Then never was man true.
Prometheus for adiva_calandiaOh, he laughed when they bound him. The opportunity was there, and so little of it would come his way as the years wore on and the mountains would not escape him.
"It is men did this to you," the hapless forger tried to tell him. "You brought this on yourself."
"Men!" He laughed again, louder and harder, and the sky threatened to crack at it. "Humankind is my gift to the gods, to Zeus most of all." The irons sizzled as the hammers flashed. Prometheus fought, but mostly as a gesture.
"Men," he choked out, as the binders held him still. "My greatest gift. Don't you see it? Don't you see it, Father Zeus? Be good to them always, Brontios, Astrapios. Live well and forever. I made them just like me."
10. ANNE: Well, well, put up your sword.
Zachariah (SPN) for clayworshippersAll right, calm down, calm down. You want an answer? I'll give you an answer. How about you picture this for me: It's the end. The credits have rolled, the lights are up, the reel's been put away. Nothing's left alive, so nothing's left to die, and nobody's watching, so what's to stop the other guy from doing whatever he wants? You think demons are chaotic? Hell is the reflection of Heaven, and let me tell you, we know our places, son. Packs of hyenas, wolves, wild dogs, jackals have nothing on demon hierarchies. Now think about what happens when they're done with minding their place. They've got something to prove, and they're out to prove it to everybody. You really want immortal souls caught in the middle of that?
Good story, right? No. I didn't think so.
That's right, thought you'd forgotten about that thing you're carrying. Take it up again, that's it.
This time, do it right.
11. RICHARD: Say then my peace is made.
Joe Liebgott for eudaimonThe artillery guy hesitates. "You sure you don't want to see her?" Joe doesn't answer: he lies on his back, staring at the ragged hammock above his. His cigarette is still long. The artillery guy nods and hustles toward the stairs that lead to the deck.
Lady Liberty. He's seen her once. She'll still be there when he steps off the gangplank. The Brooklyn Naval Yard -- hell, he never thought he'd go there again.
The hull of the transport ship has gone quiet. First time in too long, that's for certain. Rough seas, ten-day trip. Joe almost picked a fight with a guy, just because, but he couldn't, he couldn't not think fists and legs and son of Abraham.
The officers said there'd be a ceremony. You get off, you mill around, you're thanked for your service and then you're let go. Joe stares at the lit end of his smoke. A big woman with big titties: well, she's waiting for them all in the harbor, and here he still is. Where the hell is he gonna go?
A voice brushes up against him, If you need someplace to stay. Joe rolls onto his side and snuffs the cigarette out.
12. ANNE: That thou shalt know hereafter.
Anna (SPN) for winding_pathThe first time she was an angel, she was so confident in the Plan, all of Creation a latticework of events, all the many worlds perfect in their imperfect arrangements. Even the dissonances were beautiful, even if they grieved her and her band. The certainty was worthy of praise, of hymnals: what work! What craft!
That was very early on. When she became a woman and forgot all those things, she learned on the ground about time's smallest measures, how a moment is constantly breathing and choosing and how that movement can take any direction without dictation. It fortified her love when she was an angel once more: the knowable in the moment only, and then the next, and the next, hereafter and forever, forward, forward, forward and again.
She will choose her next step, one foot before the other. Her heart gladdens that she did not give that back.
13. RICHARD: But shall I live in hope?
Harry Welsh for skew_whiffHe sat there and felt it, every salty bead of sweat slipping down his back. Static hissed over the radio. He opened one eye. "Any word?" His throat was still half-raw.
"Nothing." Luz rolled a dial between his fingers. "Perconte said he got Glenn Miller before, though."
Harry snorted, one corner of his mouth curling. "Wake me when Marlene comes on."
Luz's smirk was fully audible. "Just her, or will any German do?"
His eyes slipped shut against, though a grin stole over his face, sly-cat pleased with itself. "Regular Germans, wake me up. Marlene, get the hell out of here and let her to the honors."
14. ANNE: All men I hope live so.
Donald Malarkey for theartisan7Instructions for surviving the line:
Think of your parents. Think of the girls you left behind. Think of the girls you'd never meet otherwise. Think of the train ride from New York back home. Think of the poets you've always loved. Think of the peace of the journey back. Think of the smell of the tall trees, the pines. Think of your river and the quiet in the woods. Think of the laughter in pubs and bars. Think of the men who also serve. Think of the first drop, the glory jumps, the night you got your wings and bloused your trousers over your boots. Think of the march you made, that beat the Japanese army. Think of the jokes you've made, the smokes you've shared, the friend at your shoulder right now. Think of the arc of your mortar, the things you know that let the Germans get as much as they give. Think that you have this much. Think of the hour you can wash the grime away.
16. ANNE: To take is not to give.
Alton More for pneumatiqueMalarkey stared. "Jesus, where the hell'd you get that?"
Muck chuckled to himself, his eyes almost disappearing. "You'd think that was the guy's name. Think we could train him to answer to it?"
Alton just moved his mouth, that Wild West hint at a smile. "Are you talking or are you taking? I saw Welsh with this stuff, it's probably good."
"Good?" Malarkey took the calvados and examined it. "You could win a war with this stuff. It's heavy-duty."
Muck snatched at the jug, cigarette clamped between his lips. "Sure the French are okay with you lifting their secret weapon, Alton?"
"I ain't here for the French," he said, quiet. His face went stony again, or maybe that was just that the angle and the light.