Labarboteuse - Welcome To My Shitshow

je suis sick of this shit

Band of Brothers playlist [1/11] ≛ Richard Winters We Were Men by Theory Of A Deadman

Sonate au Clair de Lune (Richard “Dick” Winters x OC)

Hello everyone ! Here is a little something with our favorite ginger-head nobody asked for. I’ve been wanting to try something for a while now, so here it is, see you at the end of the chapter. Enjoy !x 💕

As always, there’s no disrespect towards the real men of the company. It’s only based on their portrayals in the mini serie

Taglist : @supervalcsi  @ourmiraclealigner | Let me know if you want to be added. 😊

Warning : evocation of a dramatic war event

Sitting on a chair among the audience, Jeanne was stood straight as possible to see the scene where the orchestra was playing composition of Beethoven. As a linen maid in a Parisian hotel, she had spared money for months with her two friends and colleagues Gisèle and Solange to have the chance to afford an entrance for tonight’s performance at the Opera Garnier. Her family had never been rich, but she had received an education and music had been part of the instruction for the girls. She had quickly developed a passion for music but never had the financial means to learn to play an instrument or to attend performances.

The first notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” resounded in the Italian style theatre. Shivers came over her as she unconsciously played with the fabric of her little purse on her lap. Jeanne loved this piece that gave her a deep calm, whenever she felt bad, she would play the notes in her head to calm herself. As the composition was coming to an end, it provided to her a feeling of nostalgia, she thought to her parents she hadn’t seen for a while, her parents she had left few years ago to gain the capital city hoping it would be easier to find a job. Her parents had pushed her to leave the countryside in the Southwest of France where they were living, when she was 19 years old, convinced that she would have a better life by reaching Paris. No one had imagined that barely two years after her arrival war would be declared and that a little less than a year later the city would be under German occupation for the next four years. When Jeanne had arrived, she had to live for a few weeks on the meagre savings her parents had given her, then she finally found a small job as a linen maid in a hotel where she met Gisèle and Solange, the three of them having since become inseparable.

Her thoughts lulled by the music made her forget time and it was only when Solange gently pressed her arm that she came back to reality and realized that the performance was over. She gave her friend a friendly smile and stood up putting her brown coat back on before following her friends towards the exit.

She took advantage of each second passed in the building on her way out to admire the architectural beauty of the place she will not see again so soon. Once the three friends outside, they stopped at the foot of the stairs the time Gisèle lights her cigarette.

“C’était merveilleux!” - “It was wonderful!” exclaimed Solange. Jeanne laughed in front of the sparkling eyes of her friend, who had never had the chance to attend this kind of event either.

“Je suis d’accord, c’était magnifique, j’en ai eu des frissons.” - “I agree, it’s was beautiful, I got chills.” Jeanne passed her hands on her arms with a smile on her face.

Gisèle blew the smoke from her cigarette and nodded her head.

“C’est toi que nous devons remercier pour nous avoir persuadé de venir.”  - “We have you to thank for convincing us to attend.” She said to Jeanne and made a small reverence to her friend which made the three of them laugh.

People would walk by and sometimes look at them with curiosity, sometimes with a haughty look. It was the kind of event that attracted the Parisian gratin, dressed in their most beautiful clothes and adorned with their finest jewellery. And sometimes among this worldliness were simple people who had saved months or even a year to afford a place among the least expensive. Needless to say, Jeanne and her friends made a splash among the crowd.

“Allons-nous en avant qu’ils n’appellent la Maréchaussée pour nous évacuer.” - “We should go before they called the police to evacuate us.”  Gisèle mocked sarcastically.

The three girls laughed before leaving arm in arm. It was getting late but the city was far from sleeping, yet they had to return to their sinister little room on the top floor of an old building because they were starting their day very early. Gisèle and Solange separated from Jeanne once they arrived at their subway station to be able to return to their neighbourhood.

The young women kissed each other before saying good night. Once her two friends had left, Jeanne decided to walk along the Seine and enjoy the clear night and the beauty of the city before returning to her bed.

 As she walked along the quays, she couldn’t help but admire the people around her who were enjoying the evening on the terraces of the illuminated bars and restaurants, life went back to normal. Since the Liberation in August, she enjoyed wandering the streets of Paris, especially in the evenings when it was less crowded and it was easier to admire the architectural gems without being pushed around by passers-by. She took pleasure in rediscovering this City of Light that had lost its luster during the past four years. Four years under occupation, fear, constant surveillance, violence generated by the reprisals of German soldiers against the resistance movements of civilians, attacks, shortages and rationing that had led a large part of the population to turn to the black market to provide for their needs, which Jeanne had been a victim of. Her meager salary already did not allow her to live a decent life, she had believed that she would not survive this.

Like many inhabitants, she had been a witness of the arrests of the Vel’ d'Hiv’ Roundup in 1942, an event that had deeply marked the population, many of whom had bitter memories. A deep sadness invaded her thinking of all these victims, which gave her a shiver and she tightened her coat around her.

And then came August of that year 1944, the city had been liberated and Jeanne still remembered the feeling of relief.

Lost in her thoughts and without looking where she was going, she didn’t see the silhouette which also didn’t look where it was going and ran into it.

The shock made her drop her bag and the program of the evening that she was still holding in her hands as if to prove to herself that the evening had indeed taken place. She crouched down to pick up her things and her head hit the head of the person she had collided with. She held her hand to her forehead and grimaced, releasing a sound of pain. The man had also crouched down to pick up her belongings and stammered something in English that sounded like an apology.

She stood up at the same time as he did, his head down, he glanced at the program he had in his hands and a small smile stretched his lips before straightening his head towards her.

“Sonata No. 14?”

A shy smile was born on her lips and she gently nodded her head, she may not have been bilingual but the music with this universal aspect made her understand what he had said. He gently handed her the booklet and she gently grabbed it and they stood there for a few seconds without either of them letting go of the paper and looking into each other’s eyes. Finally, almost embarrassed, he nodded his head without letting go of his little smile and moved aside, passing by her to get back on his way, without taking his eyes off her before finally turning around so as not to bump into someone again.

Jeanne lowered her head towards the program cover with her shy smile still clinging to her lips, a strange feeling in her chest.

She finally returned home without any further incident and went to bed that night-joyful, not really knowing if it was because of her evening or her brief encounter with that soldier.

 ___

The next day she hurried to the hotel where she worked to take her shift. When she arrived she saw that the girls had already arrived and she hastened to take off her coat and put on her black apron, she had lost a few minutes in the subway and this made her arrive slightly late. When she met Solange on the service staircase, she learned that Louise, the fourth girl on the team, was sick and that they had divided up the rooms she should have taken care of between them three.

Jeanne hurried to fetch the clean towels to prepare the rooms before new customers arrived. In her haste she forgot to go upstairs one floor more and opened the door of the second room on the third floor, thinking it was the fourth. She didn’t even realize that the door hadn’t been locked, so there must was already someone in. She walked towards the bed and bent down to put down the towels on it when she stopped and slowly turned her head over a brown uniform lying there. She was abruptly struck by her stupidity and suddenly straightened herself up, perhaps a little too much, as she stumbled over a pair of boots and was about to finish her fall on her buttocks when she was caught by an arm that slipped around her waist.

Surprised, she quickly deviated of it and apologized, her babbling doesn’t really wanted to meant something. She retrieved the towels from the bed before turning around and coming face to face with the same man as the evening before. He was only wearing a white shirt and a black underwear, he was probably in the bathroom when she entered that’s why she didn’t noticed someone was there.

“Vous ?” - “You?”

It was the mysterious stranger she had bump the night before. The same red hair, the same blue-grey eyes and that embarrassed smile so touching.

“Are you following me?” He asked both embarrassed and amused at the same time.

“Pardon ? Non !” - “Sorry?No!”

She tried to add something but nothing came out of her mouth and she shook her confused head.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t know this room was occupied.” She explained herself with a rather wobbly accent, which he found quite charming and which stretched her smile slightly.  

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

Like the day before, they looked at each other in the whites of their eyes without saying anything, and then finally regaining the use of her limbs and speech, she walked towards the door, still stammering.

“I’m Dick.”

Even him was surprised of the words which came out of his mouth, what’s the point of telling her? He asked for himself. Also surprised of his words she turned towards him and it took her a moment before reacting.

“Jeanne.” She finally said calmly before rushing out, feeling her cheeks usually pale white turning into crimson red, so she hurried out before he noticed and that she looked ridiculous, at least more than she already did.

Dick looked at her in amusement and his gaze remained for a few seconds riveted on the door that had just closed.  

“Jeanne.” He says soflty to himself, a smile on the corner of his lips.  

 ____________________________________________

It’s up to you! Do you think it’s better to stop there? 🤔 Or how do you see a potential sequel? 😊

Throw me your ideas, they are the ones that will determine the rest of the story! Or not, it’s up to you!🤷🏼‍♀️ It’s your story!😉

RIP Helen McCrory (1968-2021)

I don’t think I’ve ever been interested in any play about the happy, successful, lighter moments of life. I think that’s a very modern, pervasive idea in our entertainment, whether it’s on Instagram or in fiction, to show only the good and the perfect side of yourself. It’s just a lie and it’s very dull, and it’s nothing that anyone should even strive for.