"‘Here was my Gymnasium, over there, facing us, my university, and just a bit further to the left, my office. This small space,’ Kafka said, drawing a few small circles with his finger, ‘encloses my entire life.’”
Unedited fic is unedited. Set in 1918, at the end of the war when Matt is trying to limp his way through the absolute slog of shit that was the proto-blitzkrieg of the last months of the war. Alfred is trying to pretend he's not avoiding trench duty at the Meuse–Argonne because of the trauma of the American Civil War. I was inspired by my Canadian great-grandfather coming home with American buttons on his coat instead of British or Canadian maple leaves that I inherited and made into earrings, lol.
October, 1918
“Give me a hand, Mattie, fuck.” Alfred cursed all the way up as the tailgate of the troop truck dropped. He was stuck on the single cobblestone that managed to give any traction under the three inches of mud. But it may as well have been concrete, for all he could leverage himself out. In the silvery light of the following truck waiting for its turn to round the corner of the checkpoint, Matt was only a hunched-over figure and a pair of gloved hands that grasped him by the wrists and managed to swing him free. His pack landed with a thud ten seconds before he did, and he was pulled roughly to his feet, and his ass finally found a bench. Almost instantly, the cold wood bit through his layers. Matt had disappeared down the benches and into the dark shelter of the canvas cover.
A soldier, looking beat to shit, offered him a light, and he handed out cigarettes, bribing his way into goodwill. They were all lightly dusted in snow, and sleet battered collars turned up even as it got dryer.
“You’re under Lieutenant Williams, yeah? Where’d he get too?”
Weary soldiers nodded up under the cover.
“Mattie!” Alfred handed his cigarette to another man and cupped two hands over his mouth to shout over the engines. “What’re you avoiding me for? Get your sorry ass down here before I start telling embarrassing stories about you.”
No response, no movement. Soldiers looked confused.
“Well, kiddo, guess I’m just going to have to start telling folks about—”
“Just what the fuck is so important—” Matt appeared, just like that, steadying himself on the shoulder of one of his men. They glanced up, a little protective, a little annoyed. Alfred didn’t register it. Matt was a trembling pillar, his face a bright, sharp point above his uniform like a flame over a candle dyed dark with soot.
“You look like shit.” Alfred raised a hand to grab Mattie’s shoulder and he slapped the hand away with a dark expression. The message was clear. He was a leader here, an officer of the British army, not Alfred’s baby brother. Another word and Alfred would be tossed off the back of the truck to enforce the silence.
"Don't use me as a distraction to get out of combat." Matt snapped and disappeared back under the canvas, and Alfred let him. At least it was warmer there. He wasn't avoiding anything.
Soldiers stared at him, and he felt sweaty despite the fall air. He wasn't avoiding anything. Just because he'd had six planes shot out from under him in as many weeks and the thought of another stint in a trench made him want to die didn't mean he didn't care. He offered up cigarettes with a smile, bribing his own Americans up with him.
“Headed up to the line anyways,” He made small talk with the soldiers around him, as popular for his cigarette supply as he was for the chocolate constantly in his coat pockets. Some of them were Americans, volunteering before the US joined the war. Boys from New York, Wisconsin, and other places had easily slid across the border without needing real paperwork. The convoy slid north on the icy roads, following the advance to leapfrog ahead of the infantry currently on the front line and pushing forward to relieve the men presently fighting their way back into Belgium. He dozed between them, one of them. He didn't much like his own under a British flag, but it felt... Solid somehow, that it was with Matt. At least it wasn't the sour old fart. He was thinking about Christmas when he was startled awake.
He awoke to coughing. Everyone had a bit of one, the rough soldier’s coughs that everyone had at some point. But this was horrible, and it was constant, drawing into someone’s lungs. And he recognized it. Alfred was instantly on his feet, weaving through the legs of sleepy men. He flung open a canvas flap and took the lantern swinging on the canvas, support in hand.
Matt was sitting, barely supported between two soldiers, his helmet off, the pale of before replaced with a violent flush, mouth open to breathe, trying to suck in air. His chin was tucked into his chest, and the coughing had not stopped.
“You don’t look so good, sir.” One of the sergeants said. Matt looked up.
“Just cold.” He said, trying to smile. “Everyone’s just cold. We’ll get moving and warm up, eh?”
The laugh he forced just turned into more coughing. Alfred stood there, lantern in hand. The soldiers around Matt looked protective, staring at him like he was an enemy they needed to hide their vulnerable commander from. Then, one sidled up to him. A boy from Wisconsin with a crop of ruddy curls. He pat Alfred on the arm and knew instantly he was a mechanic’s son from Green Bay, nestled right against Canada’s belly on the Great Lakes.
“We took the edge of a gas shell last week, and he’s been coughing like that since. Won’t listen to anyone and get a rest because there’s a shortage of officers.”
“Christ’s sake,” Alfred muttered. He sidled between bodies and inserted himself between his brother and one sergeant. He popped Matt’s helmet on and got close. The professional kind of close, resisting the urge to cradle Matt like he had their entire lives.
“There’s a casualty clearing half a mile up the road. Get fed, get dry, get some sober sack time, and I’ll make sure I get you in a goddamn staff car and back up the line before they’re assaulting anything, all right? Hand to God, I will get you back up here if you get some fucking rest.”
Matt was still, sweating now and fading to pale. He was shaking. And then he nodded.
“Hallelujah, you stupid bastard.” Alfred muttered.
He got Matt down the end of the truck as it jolted along, hands under his brother’s arms. His coat flapped open, and Alfred batted it away from him, annoyed.
“Button your fucking coat before you get pneumonia.”
A deep, curdled-chest cough was his response.
“Can’t.” Matt gasped. “Got caught on a bit of wire while we were digging funk holes, tugged right off.”
Alfred sighed.
“Okay, you poor dumb fuck. Give it here.”
Matt looked confused, and Alfred resisted the urge to feel his forehead. Instead, he shrugged his great coat off.
“Swap me.” He said. Matt just stared. Alfred huffed.
“You’re freezing.”
“I’m used to it.” He said and crossed his arms over his unfastened coat. “I was fucking born cold, I’ll die cold, and there’s not fuck all anyone can do about it in between.”
“Except give you a decent fucking coat you melodramatic shit.” Alfred was this close to smacking upside the head. He felt guilty for even having the thought as Matt exploded into coughing again. He dipped forward, collapsing into the bench at the far end of the truck bed, and Alfred gripped him by the waist, suddenly frightened he’d vomit or tumble over the tailgate and into the mud-churned roads. He pulled him back and took the opportunity to pull his coat off and wrap him in the better American one. Matt glared the entire time, but words were constricted by the endless wheezing when he went to speak. Alfred shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and buttoned it up, the American eagles shining in the lantern light. Matt glared daggers for a split second before he dragged in an inhale so violent he gagged. Every other soldier in the truck looked away. Alfred's chest hurt just listening.
At the next crossroads, American Red Cross nurses half-staffed the Casualty Clearing Station, and Alfred gave their commander his best, crooked, beaming smile and a wink. They gave him one of the visitor’s huts with a stove, a corrugated roof and two cots with clean sheets. Matt could barely stay on his feet. The mud sucked at his boots, and Alfred hauled him along. He considered picking Matt up entirely but wasn’t fully convinced the brass knuckles he’d mailed Matt years back had been lost somewhere along the way and wouldn’t end up embedded in his kidneys. At least not the way Matt was glaring.
He deposited Matt on a bed, dumped water from the pitcher and wash basin into a tin pot resting on the stove and cranked the stove as high as he could. It’d been almost 200 years since he’d needed someone to boil water and strange herbal plants and shove him and all the steam it could produce under a blanket.
Matt immediately listed to the side like a poorly loaded plane.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Alfred hadn’t even sat down yet. “Don’t be stubborn. Just breathe some fucking steam until you don’t sound like you’re about to die.”
“Sorry,” Came a very faint croak.
He frowned and peeked under the wool blanket. Matt had collapsed onto his side, and his eyes were squeezed shut, breathing too shallow to make him cough, but it still didn’t sound like he was getting enough of it.
“Hey.” Alfred pushed what was left of Matt’s damp curls off his forehead. He looked so strange with hair this short. It’d been shorn when Francis gave him up, and the look on him still made him look just as abandoned, even fully grown and in British green. The thought was as gone as quickly as it came.
“You are burning.” Alfred pressed a hand to his forehead. Matt’s eyes hadn’t opened. He made a gentle sound of acknowledgment but didn’t speak, like it didn’t surprise him.
“Have you had the flu yet?”
“No.”
“Is this—?”
“No.” He said. “This just… happens sometimes. I didn’t take the pills because I just— wanted some sleep.”
Still wearing Matt’s coat, Alfred stuck his hand in the pocket. Unmarked bottles of pills. He only recognized the contents of one of the bottles as aspirin.
“Do I want to know what’s in these?”
“No.”
“Can I ask where you got them?”
“Zee, Uncle Alasdair, Dad.”
“Let me guess, none of them knew who else was giving you what. God I am going to ban everything when we get home. Temperance is just the begin—”
Alfred was feeling uncharacteristically like a responsible older brother, ready to give Matt a whole hellfire and brimstone Baptist lecture for a moment before Matt spoke.
“I’m just glad you’re here.” He found his brother looking up at him, gratitude as evident on his face as misery.
The heavy eyes and distinctly sick flush belied an expression Alfred didn't see often. It came fast on the heels of father's anger or Matt's fear dissolving. Grateful, instantly secure and safe usually snuggled up in Alfred's side, burrowed there against his own madness or the household's hostility. He blinked and Alfred felt horrible as he teared up and then exhaled, pushing away the emotion.
But there was still something small to him. “I miss you more when I’m this pathetic. I feel better.”
"I know." Alfred pushed sweaty hair off his feverish face and gave him a tap on the chin. "Get some sleep kiddo, you know I'll keep you safe."
So I finally opened an art tumblr! Actually, I kept this blog hidden for over a month until I finished the first chapter. Reason was, while I was registering for another tumblr, I wanted the user name “rockets” but it was already taken, so I settled with “rocketsfindplanets” instead. Then for some reason, about a week later, I checked the existing “rockets” tumblr again and miraculously it was deleted!!! LOL IDEK So I grabbed this awesome username in an instant. YEAH WHOO HOO its mine!
This blog will mostly have posts related to the doujinshi (as well as articles and photos I find relevant), but I might post other art as well. Another reason why I wanted to do this is because I will also post edited out excerpts of the script that RobinRocks wrote for this story. The doujin would be too long if I drew everything, but there are still some parts I really liked so every now and then I will post the excerpts here.
If you follow this blog I hope you won’t be too disappointed, at least. Welcome! :)
To be completely honest, one of the most infuriating parts of adult life so far has been experiencing the episodic death of my passions due to the toll of everyday life.
okeejjj it's done! I hope you enjoy this comic. It is in no way a medium I am comfortable with but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun. Next time I'm not greyscaling tho.
Some notes under the cut because this pretty much only makes sense to me,,
Context: 1867 after Erszi’s marriage, not too soon but not too after either. They have had very little personal contact for a long time and haven't hunted together since the 18th century (after the repression of the h.ungarian rebellion, I imagine she gradually drops habits that remind her of a different way of life. Also, she's annoyed at him for the wars. She is not /as/ annoyed in this century because she has some newfound ambitions after the spring of the nations and is bitter since 1848 - read: she was ok with austrias ass getting a little whooped in the a.ustro-p.russian war. They have gradually picked up contact again and resumed the old habit following Erszi's suggestion. Gil is thrilled to see her back in the game. But generally speaking he’s a little disappointed that she didn't seize the opportunity coming with the severe weakening of the H.absburgs around this time to claim independence (like he was expecting - even the italys did it.). After the a.ustro-p.russian war he thought she would for sure, and he does not recognize this choice in what he thinks she would do, so he rubs it in. He was wrong in predicting her course of action but is not wrong in thinking she wants more. Erszi, on the other hand, knows that in the current e.uropean landscape she couldn't have survived on her own - and this union was the only way to remain relevant and avoid invasions. She is, however, building up frustration because the balance is still off and she thinks she /should/ be a big deal on her own, So when he hints to it it sets her off because it is precisely what she does not want to hear. She wants something that is unattainable and it is maddening.
On page 3: "Can you even s-(peak your own language)" a hint to some language drama that was going on in the aus.trian empire where bureaucracy and education was at one point to be legally done in g.erman despite the main language of the people in the country. It actually sparked a renaissance for the m.agyar language because scholars picked it up in protest lmao but at this point the answer is yes because those laws were taken down (if I am correct).
The knives: my own hc again but the bunny knife used to belong to Gilbert and he gave it to Erszi in one of their last hunting trips before they stopped (so it's an 18th cent g.erman hunting knife).
Antiques: the knife, their friendship, old habits. Antiques are objects that gain more value in time, are often looked after and maintained, and can sometimes be misunderstood in their purpose due to their age. I hope the meaning I wanted to give it comes across in the comic.
Sorry for the Fr.anz J.oseph jumpscare but I visited 2 hunting manors in s.üdtyrol and both of them had portraits on the fireplaces so that must be it everywhere in the a.ustrian e.mpire obviously.
anon this is uhhh for you??? sorry
Annd massive thanks @doomspiral for helping me out with some of the dialogue because I was STUCK and now it says what I wanted it to say. Ty <3<3
Since my JJK posts are resurfacing again, here's Suguru's hand right before the village incident. Nervous tick? Muscle memory? He's attempting to summon the person that knew what to do with a phantom gesture. "What would Satoru do?" but there's no guidance.
this clip makes me so emotional. i feel like this sometimes, at night especially. That the whole wide world may swallow me whole. That i’m wide-eyed in the face of God. that I’m not a victim of smallness but rather its loving disciple.
Request to consider: erzsi and tolys interacting. Would they get along, etc.
My thoughts + some art under the cut
So there's just two (2) little crumbs in canon of them being in the same space together so not much to go by unfortunately but we ball.
Note: In my translation Erszi uses he/him until 1525, so I'm going with that. Also, this is based on my very flawed and superficial research, so if anyone wants to give me pointers, appreciated. I think they have potential.
So after their little meeting during the crusades, they don't really interact for a couple of centuries. For some time though, h.ungary was in a union with p.oland before l.ithuania was, and they have a history of good relations, so Tolys can have heard something more about him from Feliks after the Krewo union. Based on how their interaction, and h.ungary's history as a knight, I think Tolys would respect him as a fighter, but find him a little too reckless, especially after Varna where they get ther ass handed to them. Erszi on the other hand, would probably have heard some about him from teuton but he knows the guy rewrites history as he sees fit so he's neutral - and perhaps a little curious about what is really going on.
Friends of my friends are not my enemy kind of thing. But also not someone you want to have as your enemy.
They had some more direct relations later (16th century), years after h.ungary was defeated by the O.ttomans and partitioned, when due to a vacancy on the P.olish throne, there was a debate on whether the next king should be a guy from h.ungary or the emperor of the HRE.
In general, p.olish representatives were in favour the of the h.ungarian guy, while L.ithuanians and P.russians (who had no leverage of any kind at the time, but its kinda funny they threw in their two cents as well) favoured the HRE representative. This was mainly because... well you have the HRE on one hand and a very weak, damaged kingdom on the other. On whose bad side do you want to get on. That said, after some heated discussions, they ended up electing the h.ungarian king and it was a good choice actually. He was approved by the Lithuania.ns after a couple of years and gave them lots of concessions to gain their favour. The university of Vilnius was founded under this reign too so, despite it not being the best tactical choice perhaps, and the whole ordeal having led to throwing hands with Feliks a bit, he had to gain from the friendly relations, too. During this time, there was an exchange of scholars and lots of movement between the two countries, so their relationship moved on from friend of my friend to warm aquaintance, despite Erszi being a little annoyed by his initial resistance.
There is a little crumb of canon lore from around this time period where she introduces Tolys and Feliks to potatoes and corn, so they can be farmer buddies too. Very cute potential when she is not cleaning around A.ustria's house. Also, I think she would be a little jealous of how good gilbert is doing after becoming their fief compared to how things are going for her, and he picks on her, so she has a massive grudge dragged from this time period.
17th Century is pretty lacking. She's busy being fought and fucked over by A.ustria, so they grow apart. She keeps occasional relations with Feliks, and he also helps her occasionally in a series of battles, as well as the failed war of independence from A.ustria in 1700, where the PLC and France supported h.ungary's insurrection.
At the time, the PLC had bigger fish to fry so participating in this war was not a great choice, which is mostly why I think Tolys volunteered despite probably already thinking it would be lost. Strategize to the max and keep losses to the minimum. Not that he dislikes her - she has never been bad to him, and he would be happy if her situation improved, but this is not a great time for them so he'd rather there were no distractions. Erszi, on the other hand, though she might be too proud to say it, is deeply grateful to all who aided her in this endeavour, as I imagine this to be her final breaking point after which she becomes compliant.
After this, that's kind of it. Relationships are gradually dropped and there's not much to go on as regards to relations. she would have fought with them for A.ustria, and I could no diplomatic relations of note up until after the s.oviet union. I do think during this time Tolys would have heard of her as a satellite to keep an eye on, considering the events in the 50s, while she has.. virtually no interest in knowing what was going on in the republics in detail. Not a fun topic to bring up when you talk to someone you used to be in friendly relations with some centuries ago the next time you see him. On Erszi's side, though, I do think she admires his ability to get his shit together after indipendence very quickly while she was lagging a bit behind in the Eunion.
The only crumb I could find of direct collaboration is the construction of the via Carpathia, a motorway connecting L.ithuania to G.reece. Apparently they're the only ones that are done with their tracts on time. This, combined with a tentative curiosity on both sides (there is an increase of research on the two countries relations) I think could offer a window for them to get to know each other a little better. Well enough to maybe want to grab a coffee after work and chat but not well enough to know what's going on in either's personal life.
ALL OF THIS to say. Well they have never had that much of a reason to interact much, but plenty for mutual respect to build from a distance and it being confirmed when they got into closer relations. And for many reasons I think they would get along. They're hard workers, tough, are at least aware of what they had to go through to get where they are, have a history of hardships and picking themselves up + share a love for the outdoors. And Tolys deserves a spa episode. maybe.
What better way to spend Valentine's Day than read the epistolary exchanges between Monseigneur-I-was-made-to-live-and-die-with-you-Voltaire and Frederick-a-fool-in-love-with-your-genuis-the-Great.
Do you ever think about how the Bible says In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God. Meanwhile, kami in Japanese can mean paper (紙) or deity (神), and Shintoism teaches that he who masters writing can speak to the gods?
Absolutely devastating news from Australia that at least 11 people were killed in an antisemitic attack on a Hanukkah celebration in Sydney. One of those who was murdered, Alex Kleytman z”l, was a Holocaust survivor. His wife, also a Holocaust survivor, saw as he was shot. I cannot imagine the grief and pain she and many others are feeling.
My heart is with all the victims and their loved ones, as well as the broader Jewish community in Australia. May the memories of the victims be a blessing.
We deserve to be able to congregate and observe Jewish holidays without fear of violence, in Australia and globally.
