FadedScribbles; Welcome to the first chapter of a mass collaboration between several of the fan fiction writers amongst the Romantically Apocalyptic fandom. For this chapter, I am simply the moderator, not the actual writer. So if you wish to exert enthusiastic praise for this particular chapter, direct it towards Dark Lady Devinity. Feel free to review, but keep in mind that I won't be the one to reply, and instead you should expect each chapters writer if they so choose to reply.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the hard work of these writers.


The Horrible Life of Mr. Snippy: Thom Snippy, World War I soldier

Dark Lady Devinity

A/n: Imagine this Snippy with a really strong English accent. He's also an ancestor but you can consider him a previous reincarnation too if you want.

I have an entire head-canon dedicated to this now.

The Horrible Life of Mr. Snippy: Thom Snippy, World War I soldier

The man was wandering around No Man's Land seemingly aimlessly until the corporal realised that he was speaking to the dead. The man was near enough to the trenches- and talking rather loudly at that- that the corporal knew the man was speaking German. He didn't look like he was a soldier though. That gas mask looked to be military grade but with the mustard gas frequently choking out all breathable air it would be stupid not to wear a mask. His clothes weren't military grade though and- considering that he was wandering around No Man's Land- he didn't seem all that sane. The poor thing was probably shell shocked. The corporal just had rescued an Australian sergeant from a plane crash a few days ago and that young man had lost a good bit of his memory due to brain trauma. Surely the Germans had the same problems on their side as well.

"Snippy!"

The corporal jumped, not expecting to be yelled at by his superior officer.

Corporal Thomas Snippy turned to face a rather irritable major. Snippy was always doing something to offend his superior officers. He either was too sarcastic or far too prone to talking back. When he first joined the army he was often told he wasn't enthusiastic enough- never mind that Snippy had joined the army because of his father's haunted look when news of the war broke out. James Snippy had fought in the first Boer War when it began and buried two brothers when the second ended. Thomas couldn't bear the thought of war coming to the shores of England to claim what was left of his father's soul.

"Why haven't you shot that man Corporal?" Major Williams asked.

"I don't think he's military sir. I don't kill civilians." Snippy replied. "Besides, he's not doing anything."

"He is disrespecting the dead!"

"He's offering Private Smith's corpse some tea, sir. I don't think he knows that those men are dead."

"Oh, so you speak German now?"

Snippy sighed and rubbed at tired blue eyes. He had to be the unluckiest man in the world. "We just watched him pull a mug out of his coat and give it to the Private. I can't just shoot a crazed civilian. It would be cruel."

Williams gave Snippy a strange look. He was always saying odd things like that. Snippy was a bitter pessimist that was born between the Boer Wars. His father was a damaged war veteran who had lost a leg and his mother barely made enough wages working in the factories. Yet he was still cared deeply for people and was always doing nice things for others under a sarcastic cover. Never mind the fact that he was a skilled sharpshooter and had killed more than his share of German soldiers. Snippy, bad luck and all, was just the type of man who would go offer shelter to an unfortunately mentally ill person from the enemy side and then get shot in the head by said mentally ill person or an enemy sniper.

Williams sighed. Snippy might be his best sharpshooter but the man was an idiot sometimes. "This will come back to bite you in the ass, Thom. Don't say you weren't warned when your little crusade of mercy backfires on you."

Snippy hummed. "My luck can't be that bad."

XxX

Heavy rain poured from the heavens like a thousand lost souls weeping and the ground under their feet had turned to hellish mud. A young private from Liverpool stood beside Snippy in nervous apprehension and then his head was blown clean off. Snippy ignored the gore that stuck to his uniform. The rain should wash the worse of it off.

The squad had attempted to take another mile of No Man's Land when an unexpected storm hit. Soldiers were firing indiscriminately into the black air. Snippy had no idea if his squad mate had been hit by a lucky German soldier or a blinded English soldier. Friendly fire was possible when such weather occurred. Everyone was blind to what was a foot or more ahead of them or behind them.

Snippy regretted the death of each man in his squadron but now wasn't the time to think about them. Every dead man had to be pushed to the back of his mind as the living still needed him; Snippy was the one trying to lead everyone back to their home trench. Their little stretch of trench would be flooded and filled with mud and blood but it would offer some shelter. Snippy preferred fending the rats off of the wounded men to having those same men get their heads shot off. At least in the trenches they could hide and if they choose to cry then the heavy rains would disguise the tears. No one would have to know that they were momentarily weak.

And then he saw him.

Snippy wondered if the major had put a curse on him when he saw the same German from before sitting on a decimated tree stump and singing. The crazed idiot didn't even seem to realise that the sky was trying to drown everybody. Groaning, Snippy dashed forward and grabbed the man. He then proceeded to drag the German back to the trenches with him.

Somewhere along the way Snippy got turned around. He tumbled into a mud filled trench and, although all the trenches were unrecognizable by now, this one was most certainly not his. It was completely empty for one thing. Sighing, Snippy realised he had fallen into one of the abandoned trenches from the last time the army tried to overtake the enemy.

There was no choice but to get comfortable and hope that no rats tried to nibble on his toes while he attempted to simultaneously sleep and not drown. He turned to his crazed German and started to fuss over him. The man seemed unharmed. Snippy stared in horrified amazement at this man that looked like he had gone for a Sunday stroll instead of a terrifying death defying run through the trenches of France.

The German amicably chatted with Snippy about this and that. Snippy nodded conversationally and said, "Yes. I did not understand a word of that. Do you know any English or shall I just say any little thing that comes into my mind?"

The German just continued to talk. Snippy ducked to avoid a hand- that man liked to talk with his hands- and decided he wasn't surprised that his companion was unbothered by the lack of shared language. The man did talk to corpses in No Man's Land after all.

XxX

That night, whenever Snippy managed to get a little bit of sleep, he'd dream strange things. He would dream that Sergeant Jacob Hatchenson- the young Australian pilot Snippy had saved- was infatuated with the crazed German that Snippy had found. Hatchenson didn't seem much saner in those dreams either despite the fact that he was simply amnesic when Snippy last saw him. He certainly hadn't regressed back to a child state. Besides that, Jake and Thom had actually gotten along alright. The Hatchenson in the dream seemed to hate him. Snippy didn't know the Russian man in the dreams. Perhaps he was Snippy's counterpart on the Eastern Front. Snippy hoped not. The Russian seemed to be a klutzy academic instead of a soldier… but this was only supposed to be a quick war so it was possible that the Russian had been duped into thinking that joining the fighting would be fun. He wouldn't have been the first person to have thought that.

Snippy was eventually shaken awake by a somber looking German holding out his mug of… water? The German was stuffing a flask back in his pocket with his free hand. Snippy wondered if he had woken the odd German by crying out in his sleep. He wondered if he could explain that what he had been dreaming wasn't quite a nightmare.

"Why do you have a mug? You can drink directly from the flask." Snippy pondered aloud as he took the mug and studied it. The storm had ended and moon light was shining down on them so Snippy was able to make out a little of the design.

The German paused and seemed to be thinking hard. Finally, he managed to find what he wanted to say. "Daughter's. Is… good luck. Ja?"

Snippy smiled softly and pulled some photos from his breast pocket.

"My brother and his son." Snippy said.

The German nodded enthusiastically. "Familie ist good luck."

Family was the motivation for getting out of hell alive instead of giving in and dying. Snippy could appreciate how someone would think that family brought good luck. The corporal took a large mouthful of water from the mug and then handed it back.

"I wonder what caused you to be wandering around France without any indication that you belong here." Snippy said. Of course his companion could provide no answer.

XxX

He had decided to let the German go. Snippy couldn't bear the thought that he would spend the rest of the war in a POW camp. The corporal was convinced that the man had lost a good portion of his mind and had gotten lost. Perhaps he had lived on the border between France and Germany before the war started. Snippy wondered if he'd ever see the other man again.

Maybe in another life.

END