#and muck talking about faye...:) :(

[rebeccapearson]

I swam across the Niagara once. I swear, on a bet. What, in a barrel? No, I didn't go over the Falls, George. I swam across the river, ten miles up from the Falls. I tell you, that current is damn strong. Must have carried me two miles downstream before I got across but I got across.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Country Roads

So I’m going to prewarn you all now that this fic is very angsty, mentions character death, grief, dying, lots of crying but in a way that is a sort of happyish ending. If not a happy ending then one of acceptance. This is also my first Skip Muck fic so I hope you all enjoy as much as you can.

Skip’s footfall was heavy against the dirt track, as he kicked up the dust allowing the familiar path home. His class A uniform hung to his body as the sun beat down on his back, causing the sweat to tickle uncontrollably between his shoulder blades. He huffed, slinging his bag onto his other shoulder. The local red postal van trundled past him, apparently oblivious to his presence.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He shouted, waving his hand in annoyance as the dust swirled up around him and he brushed down his uniform. “Goddam dust everywhere,” he grumbled as he continued.

The postal van was parked outside his family home and he watched excitedly as his mother came out of the front door to receive the letter. “Hey Ma!” He called, waving his arms frantically. It was the first time he’d seen his mother in two years, but it felt like only yesterday that he’d left for Toccoa.

His mother called out to someone and Faye quickly appeared next to her, her signature beaming smile on her lips, until his mother spoke to her. Faye’s face fell and even from where Skip stood he could visibly see the tears trailing down her cheeks. His mother and Faye embraced, falling to their knees on the decking and Skip found himself breaking out into a run, throwing his kit bag on the verge and sprinting up the driveway.

“MA! Ma, what’s wrong? Faye? Faye, talk to me, sweetheart.” Skip skidded to a halt, bending down beside them and throwing his arms around the sobbing women but no one moved. No one reacted.

“Faye?” Skip placed his hand under her chin but she didn’t look at him, too consumed with grief of the news. “Faye? Ma? What’s going on?” Skip stood up, waving his arms in front of the woman. “Faye, my sweet, why are you crying? I’m home. Faye, listen to me.”

“She can’t hear you Skip, neither of them can.” Skip spun around to see Alex Penkala, also dressed in his class A uniform watching the unusual reunion.

“What do you mean?” Skip looked back at his family before facing his friend again. “What are you doing here, Penk?”

“It’s your time to go Skip. It’s both our time to go.” Alex moved closer, placing a hand on Skip’s shoulder but he shrugged him off.

“Go where? Penk, I just got home. What’s going on?” Skip searched his friend's eyes for any answer but Alex just continued to watch him sympathetically, his hand still raised to support him should he need it.

“You need to come with me now,” Alex leant forward, taking Skip’s hand in his. “I’ll explain everything.”

Skip watched his friend in confusion. “Skip, I’m so sorry. You’ve not come home. You’ve come to say goodbye. Some of us don’t get to go home, Skip. Some of us didn’t make it out of Bastogne.” Alex admitted, his own eyes welling with tears now.

Skip stepped away from Alex, his hands shaking and his vision blurred with tears. This couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be gone. He was only twenty-three, and he had so many plans, so much he wanted to do. Then again Alex was only twenty-one, just a boy really.

“Skip, are you okay?”

“What about them? What about my family?” Skip turned to see his father joining his mother and Faye, falling to his knees beside them. Skip just wanted to hold them, to tell them he wasn’t scared, that he was alright.

“It’s not their time, Skip. They can’t come with us,” Alex’s voice was soft and calm. Skip wasn’t sure how he’d accepted their death so quickly. How was he okay with this?

“Hey guys, what took you so long?” Hoobler called, waving at them as he hurried down the driveway.

“Hoob? What are you doing here?” Skip asked, embracing the bubbly Corporal, who hugged him tightly.

“Come on Skip. Let’s go and see the others,” Hoobler grabbed Skip and Alex’s hands, dragging them after him as he followed the path away from the house.

“The others? What do you mean?” Skip asked, stopping Hoobler in his tracks.

“The others. Well, there’s Miller, Meehan, Evans, Julian, Bloser, Harris, Dukeman and all the others. The gang’s back together.” Hoobler spoke enthusiastically and Skip found himself feeling less fearful at the prospect of leaving his family and the world of the living.

Skip glanced back at his family one last time, watching as his father led his mother and Faye inside. “Goodbye Faye. I love you. I wish I could have married you.”

Skip turned back down the dusty path that had once led him home and now travelled in the opposite direction, and as he followed Penkala and Hoobler he couldn’t help but turn and give his family home one last look. The familiar white shutters, the green front door with child-sized fingerprint smears of the paint from when he was young, the post outside that marked the child’s height as he grew into a young man. A house so full of fond memories of a young life well lived. He only hoped that his family would share many more memories in that house and hoped they would think of him often and fondly when they did.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

[pfctipper]

Slightly hijacking this very accurate post (sorry!) but I have been having Thoughts about this:

Some of the MOTA cast have appeared on various podcasts (esp We Happy Few, which yes I know Matt Leitch can be very Matt Leitchy, but they can talk more candidly than on the official podcast) and basically said that they were given / sought out very little information on the guys they were playing - some people didn’t even know the first names or rank of their own character, where they were from or who they were friends with. So pretty much nothing to base any characterisation on. And that’s fine, obviously. The vets aren’t around, families might choose not to be involved, and not everyone is going to (or should) do a Frank John Hughes and do endless research and stay in character for a full year.

But I think between that + COVID regulations meaning a boot camp that didn’t actually involve living together and generally very little interaction between the cast outside of actually filming scenes + the scattered storyline in general, you were inevitably going to end up with a real lack of the fleshed-out background characters Band has in spades before you even got to a script. Skip Muck is a great example - okay, he’s probably not going to stand out to casual viewers before the Bastogne episodes but Speight/Grimes/Matthew glued themselves together for a year because they knew their characters were and they were on set pretty much every day so you see the cute little background moments of them messing around together (MOTA used extras as body doubles for some scenes, to limit the number of people on set). And of course not all the Band cast were this proactive, and a lot will know way more about their characters now than they did 24 years ago, but it was Speight himself who suggested the references to Faye Tanner and the Niagara swim be added to the script, based on his own research and conversations with the vets.

(And I think it was Laird MacIntosh, a military advisor, who fairly openly said on We Happy Few that MOTA ran out of budget and the number of episodes was changed a few times, which probably explains some of the weird decisions like Quinn and Bailey’s storyline just… ending.)

yeah it’s insane that band of brothers managed to give 20+ guys so much personality and depth of character but mota only managed to do that for like 4 guys if you’re stretching it and even then that might be generous

[rogue-durin-16]

IT'S JUST ME

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n has been playing the matchmaker role for the Easy Company boys since Camp Mackall. Curious about how she is so good at it, George Luz questions his friend about a few things, which leads to one dangerous question; who does the matchmaker fancy?

Pairing: George Luz x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @sparkyluz @chubbypotatoepie

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: mentioned wound, language

A/N: idk man this came to me out of the blue but I kinda liked it. Enjoy some Luz fluff my babies <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Hey!" Luz watched me hop into the observation foxhole in which we were supposed to watch the German lines for the night. "Where were you?"

"Sorry." I apologized for the delay, leaving my rifle by my side in order to nestle against the cold ground behind me, pulling my legs to myself. "I was delivering a message."

"A love message?" He wiggled his brows at me; I smirked, my chest puffed with pride. It seemed stupid, but playing the matchmaker with my friends helped me get by. Kept my head busy and my heart warm at the sight of the men being excited over their respective sweethearts. "Who was it this time?"

"You know Maggie Sullivan?" He shook his head no. Understandable, she had just come into the aid station a few days prior. The only reason I knew her name was because I had been sent to the aid station due to a shrapnel wound three days prior. "New nurse. Irish." I explained, silently thanking Luz when he handed me a can filled with coffee. "A complete sweetheart— you'd love her. Malarkey came to visit me the other day—"

"And he came across this sweetheart." Luz finished with a knowing grin. I nodded and he let out a chuckle, taking back the can he had just given me to take a swig himself. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The go-between, liaison moment." I shrugged indifferent. "How'd you get the information to do that? 'cause you never fail." He pointed out, leaving the coffee aside and lighting on a cigarette.

"Dunno, just talk to people," I leaned over George, taking the cigarette off his lips to take a drag of it.

"You never talk to me."He didn't complain, instead he lit himself another one.

"I always talk to you."

"Not 'bout this."

"Well, you never tell me anything."

"Touché."

"They all eventually spill the beans." I continued, smoke leaving my lips mixed with my frozen breath. "And then I help if I can." George stared at me for a second, his brows furrowed and a smile of disbelief. "What?"

"There's no way you keep track of everyone's flings and heartaches." He shook his head, staring into the seemingly lifeless forest.

"Ask and I'll tell ya." I suggested.

"Well—" George motioned me to come closer to him, probably because the two of us were shivering like crazy, even with the new winter clothing. "I'll start with the easy one— Muck."

I shook my head no. "Doesn't count, he got Faye back at home." I put off the cigarette and shoved it into my front pocket; I'd finish it once I wasn't about to lose my fingers out of frostbite. I buried my gloveless hands into my pockets, but there was no use.

"True." Luz pondered, relocating my scarf so it would cover my neck better. "There." His finger, lightly caressing my freezing cheekbone, along with that distracted smile of his that lit his face warmed me up better than any jacket. "What 'bout Toye?"

"Private Sylvia Williams, from I company." I braced myself, trying to keep the cold at bay once Luz moved back to his place. "Think they've been seein' each other for some time now."

"Guarnere?"

"Alma Reyes." I tsked, wincing. "Unrequited. Though there's a couple of gals after him."

"Penkala?"

"Y'know that WAC officer who used to come in to talk to Winters?"

"Charity Addams?"

"That one." Luz raised his brows in disbelief. "Hope Penk gets to take her dancin' sometime after we leave this hell hole, cause I can't really help with that one."

"Christ." George snorted. "Penk likes 'em older, doesn't he?" I knew he was storing all this information for latter teasing and joking, but I didn't mind; I was aware that the boy besides me knew very well who could and couldn't take a joke.

There was a moment of silence in which we limited ourselves to watch the line, as we were supposed to.

"What about you, Y/n/n?" I hummed questioningly, prompting him to speak. "You fancy someone?"

I spared him a look with my brow quirked and a half smile dancing on my lips.

"Ooohhh" a mischievous smirk tugged on the corners of his lips. "Who d'you fancy?"

"You'd love to know that, wouldn't you?" I spared myself from giving him an answer, turning my eyes back to the woods before us.

"Is it Liebgott?" Oh no, he was at it. "Muck?"

"Luz, you're not gonna—"

"Babe? Is it Babe?" George was like a dog with a bone. If he wanted to know something, he would get that information eventually out of persistence. "It's not Eugene, is it?"

"Luz, c'mon." I began to get nervous. How long would it take for him to name himself? And what would I say to that?

"Buck? Tell me it's not Buck."

"George." I gave him a warning look. "Stop. I'm not tellin' ya."

"Alright."

There was another moment of silence, in which I dared to let go of the tension that had kept me on edge during Luz's little guessing game. Poor me, my peace was soon disturbed by George's knee falling against mine.

At first I thought it was unintentional, but when he scooted closer, the anxiety that had just left my body rushed back in.

I refused to look at him while his gloved hands, after putting his cigarette off too, found mines, gently picking them up. "You're really freezin', aren't ya?"

"Ain't we all?"

"Yeah, but you got no gloves."

"Can't shoot with gloves." I attempted to sound as relaxed as possible, but it was turning out to be a challenge due to him blowing hot air into his hands to warm up mine, his lips ghosting over my fingers. "The ones they got me are way too big."

Then he looked up at me and I saw it. He was doing so well in his attempt to throw me off and lure me into disclosing the information he wanted to hear; sadly, his intentions where plastered a little too clearly in his eyes.

"Luz," I began, leaning painfully slowly on him without breaking eye contact, which turned out to be one of the toughest thing I had done in my life —and I was a paratrooper—. "If you're trying to bribe me into tellin' ya who I fancy," I stopped at mere inches from his lips. "It's not gonna work." I said before retreating to my initial position, looking away and therefore missing the way George's lips had tried to chase mines.

"I'll tell you who I fancy." He tried to make a deal, but I knew better than to trust those words.

"I don't need ya to tell me."

"How come?"

"I know who's caught your eye."

"Really?" The mischievous sparkle of his dark eyes seemed to be dimmed by... fear? Maybe disappointment? With Luz, negative emotions were always so difficult to tell. "And who might the lucky lady be?"

"Who the hell's Harriet?" He inquired with knitted brows, his hands still warming up mines.

"Unlucky, you mean." He smacked my arm at my joke. "Harriet McCoy." I smugly stated, confident on my information. I thought it would be easier to believe the aid station nurse's feelings for the Portuguese jokester were requited, in order to get over my own feelings for him —he was my friend, anything more than that was not even up to consideration—; instead, it just pained me, weighing on my chest like a ton of bricks.

"Luz, we're friends. You won't fool me." I assured him, darting the Technician a knowing glance. "Plus, no need to pretend, she likes you back."

"No, really, who's that?" He asked, shifting on his place in order to turn to me.

"George, c'mon." I didn't know what baffled me more; the clueless look on his face, or the ingrowing grin that twitched up the corner of his lips. "Copper hair, short, sorta shy?"

"Oh! Yeah, she's a looker." George confessed with a shrug, turning to face the line. "I don't fancy her, though."

"In that case, I'm sorry for the poor thing." I responded, remembering how a mere couple of hours ago when I was leaving the aid station, Harriet had been gushing over George to me —something I had found quite unpleasant, but I was used to it.

Silence.

"Is there any other girl who has her eyes on me?"

"A few." I nonchalantly responded.

"Oh really?" He sounded amused, maybe even proud.

"I mean, you're really funny, cheery, loud, and good-looking too." I casually stated. "More than one girl would like that in her life."

"May I know their names?"

Positive side of this turn the conversation had taken? He was no longer pushy about my love life —or lack of it, for what was worth—; negative side? Now I had to talk about all the girls I could lose George to.

"Hazel Smith, Marjorie Warren, Nora Samuels and Ida Donahue." I, for obvious reasons, abstained myself from adding my name to the list.

"Ida Donahue?" He asked in disbelief. "The Ida Donahue? From Able Company? That Ida Donahue?"

"Yes, George." I confirmed, jealousy inevitably slipping through my words like drops of poison staining a healthy conversation between friends. "Stunning, talented, clever Ida Donahue, from A Company."

"Ida fucking Donahue fancies me, huh?" Despite being biased by my feelings, I understood the fuss George was making about the new acquired information.

Ida was the It Girl. She was the first woman to enter the Airborne, paving the way for the handful of us who had managed to get in after her; she was smart, kind, gorgeous and affable, and the best shot Able company had. She was a perfect catch.

George puffed. "Pity I don't fancy her back."

That stupid smirk was still dancing on his face, and for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, it began to anger me.

"Damn, Luz," I scoffed, scrutinizing the woods in front of us in search for a menace. "you must be the only man in the 101st who's not head over heels over Ida fuckin' Donahue."

"Well, only one lady owns my heart, and that's not Ida." He casually said, giving me a side eye, knowing he got me where he wanted to.

"And who's the girl?" I asked, curiosity and jealousy getting the best of me. I didn't really want to know, but something inside me was begging me to ask.

"I'll tell you." He blew air on my hands again, his dark irises promising trouble. "If you tell me who stole our matchmaker's heart."

"Why are you like that?" I inquired, about to burst with the turmoil of emotions that had been mixing in my chest during the whole conversation.

"I'm a curious fella, what can I do?" His voice had dropped an octave, which was never good; for any other girl, it could mean a good time, but for me it only meant torture.

"Curiosity killed the cat." I spat, struggling to get a hold of the mess I was.

"You can kill me after you tell me." He insisted in a whispery tone. "Your secret's safe with me Y/n/n."

Given the thrilled look of anticipation on his gaze, I assumed that he didn't really know where this conversation would end up if he kept it going, or how bad the ending would be.

He couldn't know.

"I really don't wanna tell you." It came out as a mumble fueled by anxiety, which seemed to worry George, but he kept going nonetheless.

"C'mon, Y/n, it's just good ol' George Luz." He murmured insistently, tugging on my hands. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I'm your friend, Y/n, c'mon."

I slowly shook my head no, the duty of watching the line long forgotten, as my body was completely turned to the side, facing him, just like his was facing mine.

"That's the problem." I whined, my head tilted to the side to rest my temple against the cold ground.

"How's that the problem? it's just me." I desperately wanted to move away from George because I couldn't breathe, but it seemed impossible to get my body to obey me when he was so close to me.

In fact, I subconsciously and very slightly scooted closer to him. At some point, my legs had ended up on top of one of his, and I was only now becoming aware of that.

"It's just me." He repeated, even softer this time. I once again shook my head no, my teary eyed orbs falling on George's lips with a defeated gaze.

He knew.

He had to know.

"It's just me." He sounded dazed, but I couldn't tell why. I also couldn't tell how close and tangled we were —not until his nose lightly bumped mine, anyway. For whatever reason, though, I didn't shy away.

George Luz wasn't stupid, if he was pushing so badly about the topic, he must have had a clue of which way the wind was blowing; sadly, I was realizing that just in that instant, when there was no turning back.

No matter how anxious this conversation was making me, George had always and would always mean comfort.

Due to the overwhelming mixture of emotions I was going through, I didn't really put together what was happening, so I just held onto George's hand like I had done countless times before when the world became too much.

Only this time the world was becoming too much because of him, because of his calloused thumb wiping away the one tear I had spilled out of stress, because of his breath tickling my cheeks, because of his hand gripping mine just as tight as mine gripped his.

"It's just me, Y/n." He breathed out one last time, his lips ghosting over mines.

"It's just you." I replied, so quietly that I doubted he had heard me.

We didn't even have to move for our mouths to meet; they fit like puzzle pieces.

The kiss didn't make my heartbeat pound even faster; on the contrary, it slowed it down, making the panic that was flooding my system a moment ago dissipate.

His free hand caressed my cheek in the most loving way before traveling all the way down to my hip; meanwhile, one of my palms had left the comfort of his hold in order to snake my arm around his neck, not to pull him closer but to hold him there.

It then dawned on me that I was the girl in his heart, just like he was the boy in mine, and all of those moments we shared that by default I had passed as close friendship started to make sense.

"Luz! Y/l/n!" We both gasped, pulling away enough for me to instinctively reach for my M1. "The hell are you doin'?!"

"Jesus Christ, Doc." Luz run his hands over his face, exhaling. "One day you're gonna get yourself shot for sneaking up to people like a fuckin' cat."

"Watch the goddamn line." Roe sternly ordered Luz, turning his attention to me. "Just came to check if that shrapnel wound is doin' alright."

He hopped into the foxhole between me and George, making us reluctantly move further from each other.

I removed my scarf and unbuttoned the upper part of my coat, jacket and shirt, letting my most recent wound visible to the medic.

I caught Luz bending to check on me a couple of times, instead of the line, as he had been told to do.

"Okay, you're good." Gene concluded, patting my arm before moving back out of the foxhole, slapping George's helmet on his way. "Do your job."

"Aye, Doc." He watched Roe go and, once he was back in his foxhole, George's head spun to me, brows raised and lips pursed; Luz's facial expressions somehow always made everyone laugh, and I was no exception.

I covered my mouth to muffle my wheezing while George attempted not very efficiently to shush me, as he was cackling too.

Once we managed to quiet down, now sitting relatively far from each other, we kept stealing glances at one another, nervous, pleased and thrilled all at once.

"Y'know," George pushed himself up to move closer to me. "You're like, at least ten times better than Ida Donahue."

"George Luz," I followed his lead, moving so we would sit together at the center of the foxhole. "such a sweetheart you are." He sported a prideful smile as he winked at me. "But you're a horrible liar."

"How dare you?" He gave me a push, feigning indignation. "I'm a magnificent liar, Y/n Y/l/n." I denied with an amused grin; he let that slide, choosing to, instead, take back both my hands in his. "So, where were we— ah, yes." He tugged on me, his eyes twinkling with happiness and his gaze promising tons of teasing. "You were gonna tell me who you fancy."

Tilting my chin up, I leaned in for another kiss, which George very eagerly began to deepen. It was then that I pulled back with a smug plastered on my face, which grew wider when, for a second, I got to see his lips parted and eyelids closed, wistful and eager.

"I'm not telling you." I whispered, giving his nose a peck while he opened his eyes.

"You're terrible." George complained, throwing his arm over my shoulder in order to pull me closer as we watched the line.

[bob-events]

Friendship Bonanza Prompt List!

International Friendship Day is right around the corner, and our AO3 collection is going out to our authors any minute! That means we are excited to announce the prompt list for the friendship bonanza - which we have hidden under the “keep reading” because it’s ridiculously long. If you’d like to make a “gift” for any of the prompters, you are welcome to, and we just ask that you either post it to the AO3 collection and tag them (but please mark it as a “gift fill”) or post it on Tumblr and tag them AND us so we can share it! Happy Friending

@nowinnablewar AO3: unseelieCollapsar Will Accept: Fanfic, Other types of media Prompt 1: Skip bounces ideas off Easy Company for the letter he wants to send to Faye. Prompt 2: Easy Company craft a plan to get back at Sobel without getting caught. Prompt 3: A Yank staff correspondent (Reader or OC) interviews the officers at the Eagle's Nest. Prompt 4: Three Musketeers AU with Toye, Luz, Guarnere, and Buck

@softspeirs AO3: sunlightdances Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: Speirs being soft (either gif moments from the show, art of your choice, or platonically with a canon character, or paired with an OC!) Prompt 2: Nixon + "I wish I didn't care about it" - gifs showing him caring about other characters canonically or fic with platonic friendship or background romance with an OC Prompt 3: Lipton being Easy's Mom and Dad. Fanart, a fic of a missing scene, or gifs from the show! (Post-war AU feat. a background romance is also ok too) Prompt 4: Any happy, smiley moments between Easy boys. Gifs of happy moments, fanart, or a fic of a moment we didn't see on the show! DNW: Character/character slash fic, modern AU

@serasvictoria AO3: Caren80 Will Accept: Fanfic, Other types of media Prompt 1: Chuck and Babe are supposed be doing guard duty at Membury airfield. Chuck takes Babe to a pub instead (this genuinely happened by the way). Prompt 2: It’s Christmas and since Easy is still stuck in Bois Jacques in Belgium, Joe Liebgott decides to share a Hershey bar with Chuck and Tab as a present. Prompt 3: We all know that Luz and Perconte ended up in a barn to steal eggs, but what happened before that scene? Who even came up with the idea to begin with? Prompt 4: It’s 1946 and word reaches Bill that Joe Toye is really struggling with the loss of his leg. He decides to show up at Joe’s place unannounced with Babe and together they will do their utmost to make sure that Joe cracks a smile. Prompt 5: After hearing Joe say that he could use some brass knuckles right before D-Day, Bill finds some for him.

@josephtoye AO3: corawrites Will Accept: Fanfic Prompt 1: Joe Liebgott & Floyd Talbert, one is trying to set the other up, or some other banter-y kind of situation Prompt 2: Johnny Martin & Bull Randleman, any historical AU Prompt 3: Buck Compton & Joe Toye, do with that what you will Prompt 4: Shifty Powers & Carwood Lipton, anything wholesome DNW: Any other characters, angst is okay provided it has a happy ending, no romantic pairings please

@churchkey AO3: churchkey Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Don Malarkey & Skip Muck. Canon-era. Don's not in love with Skip , he just wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Maybe the two of them talking about their plan for being "together" (as besties) after the war. Maybe some cute "I've never told anyone else this before" intimate self-revelations. Maybe Don's reaction to Winters splitting them into different platoons. Basically I just want any chapter in the epic love story of their friendship. Prompt 2: Don Malarkey & Skip Muck Post-War Fix-It. Don's the best man at Skip and Faye's wedding, wondering how this is going to change things and if anyone will over love him the way Skip loves Faye (bonus points for background Don/Joe [Toye that is]; pining, long-distance flirting, whatever) Prompt 3: Dick Winters & Harry Welsh. Post-VE Day. Dick is crestfallen after Nix leaves. Harry feels bad for him. He really does. He's also kind of like "now you know how it feels, don't ya?" Still, he hates to see his friend suffer. Just a couple of sad, lovelorn bastards being miserable together. Prompt 4: Dick Winters & Kitty Grogan/Welsh. Post-war or Modern AU (hence you decide if she takes Harry's name). Would super love these two just doing some GBF things together, shopping, getting coffee, complaining about their husbands and trading gardening tips. Maybe the convo gets a little spicy after dark. Maybe they've each got some private dilemma the other helps to solve. Or maybe they just wander around a flea market looking for good deals on Fiestaware. Prompt 5: Lewis Nixon & Harry Welsh. Post-War. ROADTRIP! (Bonus for background Winnix but it's not necessary). DNW: anything sci-fi/fantasy; OCs; xReader; Tab

@how-are-those-nuts-sarge AO3: whoahersheybars_3up3down Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: Historian AU - one character worked at a museum/was a historian before the war and geeks out over a few things while deployed to their friends = any character/s. Prompt 2: Penmanship - one character has lovely handwriting, but something/s hit them HARD during the war and they write much less pretty; with one of their friends' support, however, their hand steadies and they heal (lotsa metaphors there I know 😅) = any character/s. Prompt 3: Chess - one character teaches the other to play chess = any character/s. Prompt 4: Bicycle - one character finds a tandem bicycle in Austria and convinces the other to go on a ride with them = any character/s. Prompt 5: Anything with Bill & Babe, Malarkey & Skip & Penkala, or Dick & Nix, I love their friendship dynamics so much.

@speirstookmysoul AO3: speirstookmysoul Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: mentor/mentee bonding Prompt 2: shoulder clasps Prompt 3: overdramatic arguments about non-important subjects Prompt 4: "getting mistaken as family and not correcting whoever’s mistaken”

@kmorecoffee AO3: vintagelavenderskies Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: gene and renee: diasastrous, chaotic cookie decorating! the rest of the gang can be involved too for extra chaos because who doesn't love chaos. anyways: gene and renee try to make holiday cookies but something goes awry. too much salt and not enough sugar? distracted and accidentally burn the cookies? luz plays a practical joke and switches out sugar for salt? go crazy! Prompt 2: gene and renee: stargazing!!! all the stargazing :) just two friends, vibing, talking about life and whatever comes to mind Prompt 3: can be modern au: chaos in the coffee shop! just the gang's shenanigans at the local coffee shop. mayhaps there's an ongoing bet of how long it takes luz to get banned? DNW: speirs. i mean, i guess he can be like mentioned or featured. but not too much speirs.

AO3: Muccamukk Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Renee & Augusta/Anna: Any backstory about how/if they knew each other before, their different points of view on things. AU where Renee doesn't die and what they do after the war. Would prefer racism not be the focus of the story, though it can be an element. I like it when there's queer characters and romance isn't the focus. Prompt 2: Winters & Guarnere: Something with them getting to know/respect each other better set early in their relationship, especially between Day of Days and Bastogne. They have such different outlooks, but in the end very similar values, and I'd love to see that explored. Maybe they get stuck together and have to survive? Prompt 3: Randleman & Garcia: I'd love to see more of Bull mentoring the replacements, especially Garcia, and how their relationship changes as the replacements get combat experience and integrate with the company. Would love to see growing respect for each other. I like it when there's queer characters and romance isn't the focus. Prompt 4: Guarnere & Martin: They have matching tattoos! They got in so much trouble with each other and were so ride or die even post war! Bill went to Martin's wedding! Pat and Frannie wrote too each other during the war. I would love them getting to know each other, or small moments of affection. Or just write about Pat and Frannie. That's fun too. Or Bill & Bull & Johnny. Or Bill & Joe Toye. Basically any configuration of this is great! Prompt 5: Powers & McClung: Basically them chilling in the woods silently understanding each other? Healing through chilling in the woods? Comparing their experiences as country boys on opposite sides of the country? Post war stuff where Shifty's so badly hurt and Earl's PTSD? I like it when there's queer characters and romance isn't the focus. DNW: Focus on character death (mention of canon stuff is fine), graphic sexual violence, hopeless endings of utter sadness, character bashing, zombies, AUs that change the setting (turn left AUs fine, AUs that add magic etc fine). PoV characters having strong racist or homophoic views.

@papersergeant-pencilsoldier AO3: papersky_pencilstars Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: Airborne OT5 (Liebgott, Grant, Mcclung, Ramirez, Babe) missing scenes - can be fluffy or angsty (fallout from Chuck getting shot?), dealer's choice! Prompt 2: Mortar Trio - Early days at Camp Taccoa Prompt 3: Dukeman & Perconte & Tab (bonus Trigger?) teasing the replacements Prompt 4: Renée LeMaire  & Gene Roe- (everybody lives AU) connect postwar (I would die if this was a letter fic, but it absolutely does not have to be!) DNW: webgott (platonic or romantic background)

Prompter # 11 Will Accept: Fanfic Prompt 1: Dick, Nix, and Harry being involved in some shenanigans during their downtime in Mourmelon. Prompt 2: Bill and Babe reminiscing and sharing Philly stories. Prompt 3: The friendship between Smokey and Lip because I think it deserves more hype :) DNW: Nothing NSFW

@dansssks​ AO3: danesaber Prompt 1: Dick & Nix: The time they offered to protect Kitty for ice cream and Vat 69. Prompt 2: Spina/Babe/Gene: College AU? Prompt 3: Spina & anyone: They show Spina all their booboos Prompt 4: Mortar Squad: Any au, cannon or modern Prompt 5: Harry and Moose: Go sheep shopping as a present for Winnix on their new farm.

@anthrobrat AO3: anthrobrat Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Any of the Last Patrol OT5 (Chuck, Babe, Lieb, McClung, Ramirez) owning a business together - coffeshop, bar, accounting firm? Don't care. Can either be a post-war or modern AU setting. Prompt 2: Skinny Sisk and anyone being bros during the war. Maybe him and Frank deleted scenes in Bastogne fox holes Prompt 3: Shifty & McClung shenanigans during leave. The cat story is hilarious, and I'm sure there are more, and I just love these two because they are so calm and collected but McClung is a total wild card. I would also take a modern AU of them being besties. Prompt 4: Shifty and Popeye being best friends after the war maybe? I just imagine them at each other's weddings being disasters. I would also take the two of them as friends in a modern AU Prompt 5: Any friendship prompt that gives life to the lesser known characters would be awesome imo. DNW: Speirs or Lipton as main protagonists.

Prompter # 13 Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: shifty powers and floyd talbert - mermaid/fisher au Prompt 2: babe heffron x reader - ice hockey/team manager Prompt 3: dick winters x reader - college au! tutor au Prompt 4: easy company boarding school au DNW: pwp/smut

@mercurygray AO3: mercurygray Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: Harry + Nixon - marriage, divorce, and everything in between. Prompt 2: Shifty + Smokey - Guess we're not in Kansas anymore - or Mississippi, or Virginia. Prompt 3: Tab + Grant - Chuck's really just here to keep Tab out of trouble. Prompt 4: Bill + Babe - First jump's the hardest - and while the jump into Holland is easy, what comes after it is not. Prompt 5: Tipper + Luz -  Tipper's pretty good at impressions, too. DNW: Liebgott and Webster (as a unit; individually they're fine.)

@lyselkatz AO3: Lysel Will Accept: Fanfic Prompt 1: Any group shenanigans/friendship fluff including Skip, Smokey, Nix, Bull. Prompt 2: "The guys are stranded on base without pass (or requisitioned to work overtime to meet an important deadline/exams, if modern AU) Prompt 3: Smokey does his best to cheer his brothers up with his peculiar brand of silly (Valentine) gifts. Extra ❤ if Skip and George offer their help. Chaos and ensemble fluff ensue. (+ playing Cupid/background ships if you like)" Prompt 4: "Lieb and Hoobs are bored so they decide to troll Web. Since it's valentine's day soon they'll play crack!cupid for fun. Prompt 5: Web is a shark nerd and Pat has a great shark smile. Infallible logic, right? (Input from the other guys /ensemble shenanigans are welcome)" DNW: Nothing I can think of, since it's a friendship fest

Prompter #16 Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: found family taking care of each other (feat. liebgott being happy and content <3) domestic fluff Prompt 2: anything fluffy coffee shop AU or flower shop or tattoo parlour or bakery or anything along those lines Prompt 3: university AU but they are the professors! DNW: webgott, fantasy AUS, omegaverse, mpreg, anything mafia related, not too much angst

Prompter #17 Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Era switch: take the boys and put them in the Vietnam War. WWI? The Korean War? The American Revolution? Any conflict that you're comfortable with. Prompt 2: The Pacific AU? Put the BoB men in the Pacific. How they get there or why they are there is all up to you. Maybe their parachute infantry regiment was simply assigned to the PTO instead of the ETO after training. Maybe Japan didn't surrender as quickly as they did. Anything. Prompt 3: Supernatural AUs are my favorite. Preferably I'd love to keep them based in the WWII era, but you can switch it up if you'd like to -- I'd be fine with that! Any type of supernatural is cool with me. I'm aware this might be super vague but I really don't mind whatever you go with :) Prompt 4: Role-switching scenarios: putting men from within the series in each others' positions. DNW: Romantic shipping, characters (Cobb, Sobel, any higher ranking officers above Winters like Sink), modern-day AUs, aged-down AUs (high school/middle school/college with the purpose of aging down = no); a/b/o trope; nsfw (no sexual material; show-level gore okay).

@mariamegale AO3: mariamegale Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Babe and Julian being best friends. They are snarky, excited, happy and having a good time together. Bonus if their boyfriends are Eugene and Spina, accordingly! Prompt 2: Baberoe. They're dating, but they're dating their own best friends. With romantic feelings taking the back seats, I'd love to see a healthy relationship of two people in love but doing normal platonic things because they're also each others' best friends in the whole world! Prompt 3: Roe and Spina being tired doctor friends, meeting up in between shifts or calls, being tired and exasperated and just having their sandwiches and a moment of god damn peace. Prompt 4: George Luz and Babe Heffron being best friends. They'd be a disaster, but that disaster that also knows how to step the fuck up if shit gets serious. But mostly they're a disaster. Prompt 5: Joe Liebgott and Eugene Roe. They're roommates, they're pals, Joe likes smoking weed, playing mario kart and complaining about whatever dipshit he's gone out with now, Eugene is trying to make it through med school and enjoys the soothing background chatter of Joe blabbering on about this guy's shirt, or whatever. DNW: Canon era (Ambiguous era is fine if you don't like writing/drawing modern!), Carwood Lipton, OCs, xReader stuff

@mizunoir AO3: mizunoir (but I use 49thpersona for reblogging stuff) Will Accept: Fanfic, Other types of media Prompt 1: Hogwarts AU! Would be lovely if it would include Babe. I leave it up to the artist if they would like to portray one specific house endeavours or all 4 houses befriending. Prompt 2: Stargazing, can be set in modern times or in the original timeline. For angsty interpretation it would be nice to read/see some Eugene and Spina bonding. Prompt 3: Stargazing (original timeline or modern times). For more crack-ish one it could include for example: Luz, Toye, Guarnere, Babe etc. But I leave it absolutely open - include whoever you want! Boys share their music taste. Bickering and reminiscing of the good times free of war ensues. Can be platonic, can be slightly shippy, AU or modern - up to the artist. Preferably including Babe with Eugene.

@thrillingdetectivetales AO3: ThrillingDetectiveTales Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart, Other types of media Prompt 1: Bill & Babe: Bill talks Babe through gay panic about his extremely obvious crush on one John T. Julian, convinces him to ask Julian out, and demands to officiate their wedding (not necessarily in that order) Prompt 2: Harry & Nix (with bonus Buck?): commiserating about trying to keep Dick out of trouble Prompt 3: Blanche Nixon & Ann Winters: they know each other because their idiot brothers are """"friends"""" but they both know what's up and cover for Dick and Nix at various times throughout their lives Prompt 4: Kitty Grogan & Franny Guarnere & Pat Martin: they meet because their fellas are on the line together and keep each other sane throughout the war Prompt 5: Floyd Talbert is everyone's best buddy DNW: No mpreg/pregnancy in general, no rape/non-con (dub-con like drunk!sex or sex pollen or hatesex is fine), no modern AUs, no ABO/dynamics, no kidfic.

Prompter #21 Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Speirs & Shames: These stern, "unlikable" men are just not very social or nice, but they get each other. Outcast gay solidarity. Prompt 2: Kitty & Nixon/Winters: Nixon and/or Winters gets to meet Harry's special girl at last. Harry's made her sound like the romantic lead of a novel and really cool, and they are completely unprepared for the tall, awkward chess club captain. Prompt 3: Babe & Guarnere: Post-war readjusting of a friendship. Disability, marriage, kids on the way, Babe is gay. You know, the usual. DNW: xReader, OCs, hopeless angst, AUs, heavy focus on heterosexuality

@aloraundomiel AO3: ElfLadyArwen Will Accept: Fanfic, Fanart Prompt 1: Dick admires Eugene’s medical skill and always shows interest in learning from him while he’s on the job. Eugene uses it to his advantage, making sure Dick takes care of himself (because shaving doesn’t count) under the guise of ‘teachable moments.’ Any battlefield setting would work. Prompt 2: Nix and Harry are joined at the hip, two class clowns who wind each other up.  When one gets them into deep trouble, the other one is always there to get them out again. Prompt 3: Dick Winters is jealous of Ronald Spiers ruthlessness/ability to detach and athletic prowess. Ronald Spiers is jealous of Dick’s empathy and ability to earn loyalty through compassion. Each man agrees to give the other lessons in order to be more well rounded leaders. DNW: Please no Blithe. Never Blithe. You can leave out Compton too.

@bandofmorons AO3: bandofmorons (pseud for sonsofmahal) Will Accept: Fanfic Prompt 1: Babe & Lieb friendship!! I don't have a ton of specifics for this, I just want them being friends and getting into shenanigans but also being supportive of each other... like they're just guys bein' dudes but they're also pretty close ya know! They take care of each other when they need to! Ideally this would be a modern AU, maybe they're college roommates or something? Prompt 2: But mostly I just want to see them goofing off but also being helpful when shit goes down or something, because that's what friends are for. Prompt 3: Some kind of traveling AU with the 5 officers (Winters, Nix, Harry, Lip and Speirs) all as friends and how going on a big trip like that can strain a friendship when something goes wrong or just from people being tired from traveling so much... maybe it's a cross-county roadtrip, maybe it's spring break in Europe, maybe they're going backpacking in New Zealand or something.. I just wanna see how all those 5 boys' different personalities interact on a big logistical venture! Prompt 4: I'm not picky about who necessarily but I want to see Webster getting close to & forming a close friendship with someone in Easy! I feel like in the show/fandom he gets a bad rap for being pretentious (which, fair) but I think it would be awesome to see him becoming good friends with someone and feeling more accepted among the company bc of it. This could be a canon-compliant thing or it could be a modern AU where the boys are all friends. Background Webgott would also be cool as long as Lieb is supportive of Web befriending more people. DNW: explicit sex

[hasereshdoneanythingwrong]

Innkeeper AU (Part 3)

Once more Faye woke from her slumber. Did the first time in days, her head felt clear, her body still slightly heavy, but not leaden as it had previously been. Daylight shone through the window lighting up the room. Across from her bed, Faye’s clothes lay neatly folded with a small folded paper on top of them. She swung her legs out and carefully made her way over to the table.

“I made sure to get everything washed. Looks like they hadn’t been in weeks! -Eresh”

Faye looked closer at the note. Nice, neat letters filled the page. A strong opposition to the usual commoner’s garbled writing for work. She even signed neatly too!

Putting the note on the table, Faye dressed herself. Her clothes felt softer, lighter. Then again, the last time she’d work them they were soaked through with rain and muck. No wonder they’d be lighter. A light flowery scent came from her tunic.

Perfume? I don’t-

Faye blushed but shook it away as she finished dressing herself. She walked towards the wooden door, its brass handle old and worn, yet as firmly attached as it would have been when it was first installed. The door opened with a quiet creaking, the only noise in the hallway. Faye walked down the hall, a handful of rooms lay between her and the end, each one’s door open to indicate vacancy. The ones she passed seemed small, not like hers where there was plenty of leg room. As she neared the end of the hallway, a cracking could be heard. A fireplace.

Faye rounded the corner to see the main room. Tables scattered throughout, each with a handful of old wooden chairs. A bench along one wall and a handful of chairs near an ornate fireplace. At the opposite end of the room from the fireplace stood a bar. Kegs and shelves filled with odds and ends behind it. In front of those kegs and shelves stood a woman leaning somewhat disinterestedly in on the counter. She looked exactly like Eresh, except her hair was a midnight black rather than the now familiar golden locks she’d seen recently. This woman also had the same deep red eyes that the innkeeper had, if not slightly different. Rather than a deep pool of blood, this woman appeared to have eyes filled with a fine red wine, like she expects the finer things in life. Faye stepped forward, creaking a loose board and catching the attention of the woman at the bar.

???: You’re finally awake! Good to see you up and about.

Faye: Hello there. Who’re you?

As the woman spoke, Faye walked to the bar, the two scanning each other on the approach.

???: I’m Ishtar. I own this inn.

Faye: I see. You’re the sister Eresh mentioned. Thank you for letting me stay at your inn. I’m sorry if I’ve been a burden.

Faye bowed her head as Ishtar laughed. Her laugh was haughty but kind.

Ishtar: A burden? Far from it. Without you here we’d have all gone mad from boredom by now. Besides, it’s not every day someone catches my sister’s eye.

Faye fought back a heavy blush.

Faye: She’s been.... very kind to me. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to repay you.

Ishtar: Well, we’ll think of something. For now our focus is getting you better. After all, we’ve put so much energy into helping you, we might as well see it through to the end. Plus Jack likes you, and it’d break her little heart if anything happened to you.

Faye chuckled: Where are those two anyways? I didn’t see them anywhere when I was walking down.

Ishtar: Oh they went to the market. Had to get some more food since our stores were starting to run low. Should be back soon.

Faye: I see. Any news on the bridge?

Ishtar shook her head mournfully.

Ishtar: At the earliest it’ll take a week based off my best guess. May be more than that thought. The storm really messed a lot of things up. I’m just glad the inn was safe.

Faye: So am I, in more ways than one.

Ishtar took a couple mugs from behind the bar and a bottle, gesturing to one of the empty tables for Faye to sit. The two take their seats as Ishtar pours their beverages.

Ishtar: Speaking of, how’d you end up out this way in the first place? This area’s not exactly a tourist spot.

Faye looked down at her mug, the dark liquid inside still swirling from being poured.

Faye: It’s a...long story.

Ishtar took a swig.

Ishtar: Well no ones going to be able to go anytime soon. You’ll have plenty of time to tell if you’d like. In the meantime please, make yourself at home.

Faye took a light sip, examining the woman in front of her. What a curious lady...

The two continued their chat a while longer, Faye asking more about the area and the nearby town, Ishtar asking counter questions. An eye for an eye, it would seem. Their talk kept going until a door could be heard opening. Turning, the two saw Eresh and Jack make their way inside, baskets under their arms. Eresh pulled back the hood of her crimson cloak, eyes wide with surprise.

Eresh: Faye, you’re up! I expected you to rest a bit longer.

Faye: Yeah. I woke up after you two had left. Your sister has been kind enough to keep me company this whole time.

Eresh narrowed her eyes as Ishtar nervously chuckled.

Eresh: Kind enough, eh? Was she kind enough to open one of our oldest bottles?

Faye swallowed hard as she glanced to the side. Sure enough the label on the bottle painted it as a vintage wine. How had she not noticed? Faye began to stammer as Eresh put her hands on her hips. Ishtar quickly stood, picking Jack and her basket up.

Ishtar: Well, it’s been nice chatting gotta help Jack, bye!

Her words were rushed as she quickly took the girl to the storeroom, leaving Eresh and Faye alone. Eresh sighed and took Ishtar’s seat, resting her basket on the table.

Eresh: I swear, I leave her alone for half a day...

Faye: I’m sorry, Eresh. If I’d realized sooner I would t have drank any.

Eresh waved off her apology, grabbing the mug from Ishtar’s side and taking a sip.

Eresh: Well, it was going to get used someday. Don’t worry Faye it’s not any fault of yours. My sister has a bad habit of talking into our vintage whenever she’s got guests. I think she does it for herself but the excuse of entertaining keeps me from lecturing her too much.

Eresh finished what remained in the mug before standing, recorking the bottle.

Eresh: Well, it’s getting late, and I have to see that all these supplies are put away properly. Plus I’ve got to speak with my loving sister. Rest up, okay? We can talk tomorrow if you feel up to it.

Faye stood, bowing her head slightly, a small smile on her face.

Faye: Of course. I look forward to it.

With a nod and a small smile of her own, Eresh picked up her basket and the bottle, leaving for the storeroom. Faye picked up the mugs, leaving them on the bar counter and pushing the chairs in. She walked back to her room, her steps less wary than they’d been this morning.

Starlight spilled into her room from the window, a gentle breeze rustled the bushes outside. Faye climbed into bed. Allowing her consciousness to slowly drift off, her last thoughts were for once on peace and the brightest smile she’d seen today.

Mentions:

@hasishtardoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasquetzdoneanythingwrong @hasabbydoneanythingwrong

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there?

/ Part 4 /

If I ever felt like my feet were going to fall off, it was today. I has just successfully passed my physical fitness test. I was feeling great, but I honestly couldn’t feel my legs. The whole night before I had been practicing to get over those walls over at the training obstacle. Which meant that that none of us in our barrack got that much sleep last night, with Lewis and Richard having been at the map exercise at dusk. 

But here I was once again, at night wondering around to find Skip. I wasn’t completely sure which barrack he was in, but I was determined to check up on his ankle, which had once again been bothering him today. I knew this was inappropriate, but I wasn’t going to drop this. He needed it supported for tomorrow for him to keep it from overexerting. 

“Nurse!”, came a call from behind me. The voice was so sharp it made me jump. When I turned around I was met with a piercing hazel gaze. It was the Dog company lieutenant, Ronald Speirs. 

“Forgive me sir, I’m looking for E-company, Second Platoon. A private needs first aid”, I quickly explain. He just looks at me with even more determination. He then offers me his hand, which I shake firmly. “Ronald Speirs”

I smile at little: “Sonja Winters”. At that the corner of his mouth turns up and he smirks. “I think everyone in this regimen knows who you are, Nurse Winters.” Then he once again turns serious. “You do realize that this could get you into some trouble. With the higher ups and with the men”, he scolds. It’s clear to see the irritation in his eyes. 

“As I said sir, I just need to check up on a comrade”, I reason. I knew he was correct, but I still wanted to make sure Skip was fully alright.

“Well then, Follow me”, he says and turns around. And we walk very very quietly. 

--------------

Once we are in front of the barrack, I thank him. But before I can even fully get my thanks out, he walks away. What an odd man. 

I knock on the barrack door timidly. When the door opens I am greeted by Bill. “The hell are you doing here, come in you mick”, he says and quickly pulls me inside. “You outta your mind Bambi, there are slimy men all over the place”, he then scolds. 

I look around the room and see most of the men in looking at me. I turn to Guarnere to ease my nerves. “I just came to see Skip, Bill. No one except Lt.Speirs saw me”, I softly try to calm him. 

His eyes almost bulge out of his head. “Okay let’s talk about crazy maggots then and not slimy men”, he grunts. Skip luckily comes to my rescue and bows with his hand out “Milady, how can I be of service?”

I grin and take a cotton bandage from my pocket. “Not this again, I don’t need any bandages”, he groans. I push his shoulders and sit him down on a bed. “Private Muck, your ankle is acting up again, it needs to be supported so the twinge doesn’t come back and have worse causes! Do you want Sobel to have you out of training?”, I ask with my hands on my hips.

“Listen to Bambi, Skip. Better have it wrapped up now, than in a cast tomorrow”, Joe comments from his bed. I smile and nod at him. Sweet Joe Toye always having my back. 

Everyone goes back to their own things as I lower myself to bandage Warren’s ankle tightly. Once I’m done I give him a bandage roll. “Have this near, because with all the sweating we do, this probably will be ruined soon. Once you don’t feel hesitation to step on the ankle, take it off and save it for later. I know you don’t want to take a day off, but please be merciful with these skinny things”, I gently guide him. 

He just pats my head and smirks. “Okay Bambi, wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” I shake my head at his antics. “Think of Faye when you take care of yourself, God knows she wouldn’t want her sweetheart hurt”, I reason with a gentle grin. The way Skip talked about his sweet Faye Tanner was adorable. I actually gave him a couple romantic poems from my books so he could use them in his letters. It was a little secret of ours, the guys would ruin the sweetness of the gesture. 

I stay at the barrack for a little while. Chatting with Muck, Don and Penk. I mostly just sat and listened...and giggled. These boys lightened my heart with their jokes. 

“Let’s get you back before someone comes looking”, Joe says jumping up. I shake my head “I can find my way out”, I say and go to the door. Until Bill stoops in front of me. “You ain’t going outta this door without an escort”, he says tapping my nose. 

I roll my eyes smiling and wait for Joe to come. I gently wave at everyone and let Joe lead me out. Once we are out we start softly talking. With Joe it was easy, he was comfortable with silence, and he never saw the need to judge or lie. 

“You miss home yet?”, he asks while lighting a cigarette. I start thinking. Do I miss home? What is home? Me and Richard lived in a barn house in Lancaster. Desperately trying to gather money for our own lot. Do I miss it? Yes I do. In the end there was nothing better than sinking next to Richard after a long day, cuddling up to him in the chilly bedroom. It was not a fancy dream, but it was the nest me and Richard have started with, and that was enough. 

“I do, sometimes it’s just better to not think of it”, I answer. He nods in agreement. “You miss your husband? You seem so invested in Faye and Skip, it’s odd that you never talk about your own sweetheart”, he says blowing out the smoke. 

I gulp and wring my hands together. He seems to notice my nervous reaction and furrows his brows. “You ain’t gotta talk about it if you don’t want to”, he then adds. “But if he hurt you, he’s never walking again”

My cheeks hurt as I smile at him. After the Sobel incident weeks ago, he really had become a dear friend to me. He just needed to see that I was worth the effort. And I sure am happy that I was to him. 

“It’s not like that Joe, it really isn’t. He just..he is in the army too”, I tell him soothingly. His brows lift and he nods. Then he says something that makes me freeze:

“Yeah the LT seems like a proper fella”

My eyes bulge out of my head as I halt my step. “What?!”, I ask sharply. He just shakes his head and smirks. “You look at Winters like a lost puppy and he looks at you like a protective bear with it’s cubs. At first I thought it was nothing, but then I saw him help you with your gear and those looks ain’t just your regular ‘well thank you sir’”

I shake my head and my hands tremble. “Joe you can’t tell anyone, does anyone else know? Oh no they are going to see me as a hussy”, I almost start pulling my hair. It feels like a carpet has been just pulled from under my feet. All my achievements would mean nothing to the men from now on. 

“Hey, hey, Sonja! SONJA!”, Joe raises his voice making me halt. “No one has said a word about you two. I just happened to notice. What you told me made me guess. You two are so professional it’s hard to even tell if he likes you or not”, he soothes rubbing my upper arms. I bite my lip and look at the ground. 

“You are such a proper girl, not one of us would call you a hussy. You ain’t like that, Winters isn’t like that”, he continues. I look at him in the eye and only see kindness. Kindness and honesty in those button eyes. I nod and take one hand that’s on my shoulder. “thank you”, I whisper. 

For the rest of the walk we just walk while he sings softly. Once we come to my barrack he takes my hand again. “You can trust me Sonja, Joe’s cotcha”, he smiles and then takes off. I smile softly too. He and Skip just might be the only friends I’ve ever truly had. 

-------------------

The maneuvers with Sobel have been getting worse and worse. He is jumpy, he is unprofessional and most sadly: he does not know how to work theory in practice. 

Nix also got moved to the battalion staff. He was now packing the rest of his stuff. It felt odd, I had come used to spending time with the man. He was very odd company, but the more you get used to him, the more pleasant you see him. 

“What are you gonna do?”, Lewis asks as we discuss Sobel’s field work. I know it is very unprofessional of me, but my eyes almost become stars when I look at my husband in his Ike jacket. I shake my head and grin at the thought. 

“Nothing, just keep training the men”, Richard answers, just as a short fellow hops in. I quickly stand up too. 

“Am I interrupting?”, the man asks. As me and Nix look at each other. Richard answers for us as he rises up: “No, no. Lt. Lewis Nixon, Nurse Sonja Winters, Lt. Harry Welsh just in from the 82nd”, he introduces. I smile at Harry kindly and shake his hand. “Ahh the beautiful lady wife”, He grins with his tooth gap. 

I smile too, all the officers know the setting.It was easier that way and when things got serious, it was very practical. “Beautiful wife for a beautiful man”, I say knowing it would make my husband flush. 

Harry chuckles and moves to shake hands with Lew.  “Congratulations on the promotion”

“Ah, thanks. If you wanna call it that. You’ll learn them pretty quickly. She’s holy Mary, biblical little lady with a husband to match: No flaws, no vices, no sense of humor”, Lewis manages to hint. I glare at him and he just looks at me with a million dollar smile. 

“Just like your chums up at Battalion Staff?”, Richard quips. I grin at him and go to gently brush his jacket straight. Which it already was, but better be as neat as possible. While I do that Dick turns his head to Harry: “What’s up?”

“I’m hearing a lot of rumblings”, you can hear the concern in Harry’s voice. Lew catches on quickly: “Sobel? We were just talking about that”

“So he gets a little jumpy in the field?”, Harry confirms as I turn back to him and Lewis. “He gets jumpy and you get killed”, Lewis nods. I look at him with raised brows and a dry expression. “What?”, he asks. 

“Aren’t you just tactful”, I say pointedly. He chuckles: “haha, sorry Dick, I’ve rubbed up on her.” I roll my eyes, in his eyes you could see the pride of being bad influence. And I am in deep shame that I’m not immune to it.

Richard just continues with the topic of Sobel. “Listen, if we discuss it, it should be among ourselves”, he says looking at all of us very pointedly. We all quickly agree, and then the devil himself jumps in. 

We are moving out.

@iilovemusic12us​

[band-of-bitches]

Don’t Call Him ‘Sparky’

Summary: Malarkey, Penkala and Skip try to entertain themselves during a long night in Bastogne AKA they learn to be careful who they talk about when they think no one is listening.

Author’s Note: This is something I thought up when I wrote that shit post about how Speirs’s nickname was “Sparky” but no one actually calls him that in the show. This is also my first fanfic I’ve ever written for a fandom so be nice to me plz.

Word count: 1048

No Pairings

Warnings: Some mild cursing

-

“Sparky? What kind of a nickname is ‘Sparky’?”

“Better question; how does a man like Speirs get nicknamed something Faye would name a cat?”

Malarkey laughed, but quickly regretted it when cold air stung at his lungs. Skip, Penkala and himself sat huddled in a foxhole, trying to ignore the freezing temperatures that kept the trio glued close together.

Malarkey had never experienced cold like he did during the nights at Bastogne, where he could hear the sounds of gunfire going off all around him, or the screams for medics to then be followed by a quick flash of a red armband running by. Sometimes he’d see the same armband coming back clutching a wounded soldier. Sometimes not.

Nights like this are when he was glad he had Muck and Penkala to distract him with their crude jokes and constant quips that never ended. He was thankful that all three of them could find a topic to go on about and use to distract themselves from the war and violence that surrounded them. On that particular cold night in Bastogne, the main topic of conversation seemed to be what they loved most to bug Malarkey about: Ronald Speirs.

“I don’t know how he got it, but I heard that a replacement in Dog Company called him ‘Sparky’ once, and the next day he disappeared from his foxhole,” said Penkala, muffled by the scarf that he had wrapped around his mouth and nose.

“Bullshit,” said Malarkey. “You’re making that up!”

“No, I swear! I heard it from a Bill who heard it from Luz who heard it from someone from Dog Company.”

“Jesus Christ, I feel like a high school girl” retorted Skip.

“Aww, you upset Billy didn’t ask you to the prom?” Malarkey mocked, putting on his best pouty face. Skip leaned forward and reached across Penkala to smack Malarkey across the helmet, getting a small chuckle out of Penkala. Malarkey could see the cold air leave through Penkala’s scarf as he laughed. He doubted the piece of cloth was helping much.

Skip retreated back and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. “Well, no matter how he got it, I doubt anyone actually calls that to his face. Imagine calling a man like Speirs ‘Sparky’.”

Malarkey couldn't imagine it. He came to the conclusion that only those with a death wish would even dare to utter the nickname. He remembered the POW’s back on Normandy and how one minute he was chatting his fellow Oregonian up, and then the next him and the other POW’s were just more names to be etched on a gravestone. He thinks a name like “Scary as shit” or “Jesus Christ that’s him” would be much more befitting for the Dog Company officer. That’s already what most of Easy Company say when Speirs makes one of his rare appearances.

Malarkey thought back to what Skip said. The nickname did kind of sound like something a cat would be called. Maybe a dog. He let out a small chuckle. 

“Sparky, huh? I guess ‘Spot’ was already taken?”

They all laughed, and Malarkey ignored the cold air that stung his lungs that came with laughing. He was still laughing when he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned around to see who was approaching the foxhole Penk, Skip and himself were couped up in, half-expecting it to be Buck to tell them to quiet down. The laughing subdued when he saw the face the footsteps belonged to.

“Hello, boys,” Speirs greeted. He stood above their foxhole, peering down at the three friends, his gun held in both hands carrying the neutral expression that never seemed to leave his face. Malarkey couldn't help but stare slightly wide-eyed at the man, and although he couldn't see their faces, he knew Penk and Skip were sporting similar expressions, the grins that were previously occupying their faces most likely long gone. Malarkey wasn’t sure if he noticed the shift of the atmosphere, but if he did, Speirs didn’t show it. 

“Do any of you know where Captain Winters is?”

No one said anything.

“Um, no but, uh...Sergeant Compton probably knows, Sir,” Skip piped up, the usual liveliness of his tone missing

Speirs didn’t move for a moment and just stared into the foxhole for what felt like an eternity. His cold, hard eyes not moving and his neutral expression staying put. Malarkey didn’t dare move or say anything. Realistically, he knew Speirs wasn’t going to gun them down then and there, but there was an energy to the man that sent shivers down his spine each time he saw him. 

He couldn't be sure, but Malarkey swore he saw a smirk meet the side of Speirs’s lips before he finally spoke.

“Thank you.” He turned around to leave. “Have a good night, boys.”

Malarkey watched Speirs as he retreated to go find Buck. He didn’t relax until the man completely disappeared behind the snow covered trees and into the night, the darkness enveloping him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. He turned to look at Penk and Skip, only to find them both expressing a shocked but relieved expression, an expression he was probably sporting himself.

“Holy shit, you think he heard what you said, Malark?” asked Penkala, eyes wide and brows raised.

“I don’t know,” replied Malarkey. He really needed to get into the habit of not talking about superior officers behind their backs. He swore it would be the death of him.

Skip apparently read his mind.

“Well, when you wake up dead tomorrow, I’ll make sure your cause of death says you did something heroic, not ‘called Ronald Speirs ‘Sparky’’.”

Malarkey snorted. “Thanks a lot, Skip.”

“Yeah,” said Penkala “It could say something else stupid instead, like ‘ran into the middle of a battle field to pick a lugar of a dead Kraut’.”

This time it was Malarkey's turn to smack Penkala across the helmet.

Soon all three were laughing again on that cold night in Bastogne. Malarkey swore that as soon as the sun rolled up across the horizon in a couple hours, Skip would immediately tell the other guys about their encounter with the oh-so-scary Rondald Speirs. He also swore that he would never utter the word “Sparky” again for the rest of his life.

[ansgar-martinsson]

Fair Winds and a Following Sky - Part 12

Nowhere Oklahoma, One and One Half Years Ago

It was a dry winter, or so he’d been told. Dry, he supposed, meant mild; as the weather was more like autumn or spring in his estimation, than a true winter. He’d never spent a winter in the Southern United States before, but he knew that the winter there paled in comparison to the dark, Swedish winters he was accustomed to.

Which was why he never once complained about working in the barn, why he never once balked at mucking out the stables or feeding the horses, or even putting the great beasts through their daily winter paces. There wasn’t much he could have done construction wise around the ranch. Most of it - the barn, the porch decking, the siding, the garage door - was done, anyway. 

His work there was essentially complete. And yet, for numerous reasons, he stayed.

It was six in the evening, an hour after sunset. The sky was a grayish haze yet - the day was over, but it was not quite night. He, as he was every night for the past few months, was in the stable. It was warm there, heated by the hay and the horses; and he enjoyed the sounds of the breeze through the corridor, the whisper of the straw, and the whickering of horses.

He had just finished brushing Condor’s Flight, one of Anna’s prized racehorses, when he heard tires in the driveway followed by the slam of a single car door. It didn’t sound at all like Anna’s Chevy.  If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the distinct sound of a newer model BMW, which, from his knowledge of the local trucks, SUVs, and beaters with heaters, was quite odd.

He dipped his hands into a trough of warm water, wiped them with the towel that hung from the tack post, pushed the man door open and stepped onto the edge of the pathway. In the beam of a pair of bluish headlights, he saw the shape of a woman - shorter, stockier, thickly dressed - definitely not Anna.

The woman called out. “Boy! Come here.” She gestured wildly in the air with one hand, beckoning him to her as she took quick, shuffling steps toward him. In spite of her demands, he remained in place, his hands on his hips. “I said, come here boy.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” he replied, “I tend not to answer to ‘boy.”

“Ooh,” she sang, “a proud one, huh? Well,” she stepped forward, pulled off one of her gloves and held her hand out to him. “Let me try this again, hm? I’m Bessie Travidge. Folks call me ‘Mama.’ Supposing you can too, call me Mama.”

He sighed behind a tight-lipped smile. “A pleasure, Mrs. Travidge,” he shook her hand, his grip tight and firm. “I’m Alan Easterberg.”

“You’re the help,” she perked. “I know all about you, boy.”

He curled his lip and sneered. “Madam....” 

“Sorry, sorry,” she held her hands up. “Don’t mean to insult y’all.”

He grinned, showing his teeth in an irritated rictus. “How may I help you, Mrs. Travidge?”

“Oh, do call me Mama, will y’all?”

“How may I help you... Mama?” he repeated, the name dripping like venom from his lips.  “Anna isn’t home right now. She’ll be returning shortly if you’d like to wait inside.”

“Oh no,” her eyes widened. “I ain’t here to see Fair Sky.”

He cocked his head. “Then why are you here?”

“To talk to you, for sure.”

He blinked. “Me? What could you possibly want with me?”

She peered at him, then, her aspect morphing from one of blithe friendliness to a hard, stern facade. “I’m here to talk to you about your leavin’ this place. Quick like.”

“I assure you I have no intention of leaving, not yet at least,” he replied cooly. 

“Don’t matter your intention, boy....”

“Don’t call me boy....”

“Mm hmm,” she guffawed sardonically. “Don’t matter much your intention, sir,” she emphasized. “You’re leaving and quick like.”

“I assume, madam, that there is an ‘or else’ hanging at the end of that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest - mainly in an attempt to show dominance, but truthfully in an attempt to hide the damnable shaking of his hands. He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes, also a show of strength mixed with the desire to conceal the fear swimming in the blue. “And that ‘or else’ is?”

“Or else I tell them where you are.”

“Tell them where I am,” he repeated slowly, as if trying to decipher the ramblings of a maddened child. “Tell whom?”

She chuckled, lifted one hand, and with the other, she ticked off her fingers. “Well, the police for starters, then the CIA, FBI, Interpol, and some fellas from the Swedish Secret Service what came round to my office last week.”

His heart was a caged lion. It pulsed and strained and pounded against his chest. His mind went cold and he seemed to have lost his stomach altogether. Yet, he fought hard not to show any of his discomfiture. Fought to keep his mask firmly in place, but time and emotional trauma and lack of practice made it fragile, paper thin, full of deep fissures. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said clearly. “There’s no reason any of those people would be looking for me.”

“Because you’re just a carpenter, ain’t that right?”

“That is correct,” he averred. “I think you must have me confused with someone else.”

“Does the name Rufus Valentine ring any bells with you?”

Crack.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his jaw from clenching, his eyes from watering. “No,” he lied. 

“How about Isak Pettersen?”

Crack.

He blinked. “No.”

“Ansgar Martinsson?”

Jesus Christ, he thought. She knows. She fucking knows.

“I’m afraid I have no idea who that is.”

“Well,” she smiled, serpent-like. She paced in front of him, back and forth over the short width of the gravel walkway. “He is a very important fella, he is. The CEO of some big international company, got his sticky fingers in projects in just about every country on this planet.”

“What does that have to ---”

“Quiet now, boy,” she barked. “Just hush yourself for a spell and listen to me.” 

His nose flared and his eyes hardened, but he stayed, he listened. There was nowhere for him to go, regardless. “Go on.”

“Turns out,” she continued, “he up and disappeared ‘bout a year or so ago. Left New York City one morning, and ain’t been heard of since. Folks have been looking up and down for him, and nothin.’ They want him back, you see. Guess he’s, how’d they say it? He’s vital to ongoing government operations or something like that. What’s more he’s wanted for assault, they say. Somethin’ about tearing up some bar in Pennsylvania and threatening this Valentine fella with a gun. Should I go on?”

He remained silent. 

“See, and they’re gettin’ real close to finding him, they say. He was good, real talented at slippin’ away, at hiding. Didn’t leave much of a trail. But the FBI, they’re dang good at what they do too.”

Shatter.

“Apparently they are,” he said. He knew full well that to say as such constituted an uncontrovertable admission. He sighed and fluttered his eyes with deep-seated annoyance. “So, what do you want?”

“Told y’all. I want you gone,” she demanded. “Pack up your shit, get in that rust bucket Bronco of yours and high tail it out of here. And don’t come back.”

“Why don’t you just turn me in? Just tell them who I am and where I am?”

“’Cause I don’t want no trouble.”

He cocked his head, squinting. “For Anna?”

“No, for my family. I don’t give a rat’s ass about that injun bitch,” she spat. “I don’t want the Travidge name dragged through whatever mud you’ve been wallowing in. If they ask me, I’ll deny ever knowing what I know or ever seeing y’all. I’ll deny we had this conversation, but you gotta skedaddle. Now.”

He nodded slowly, understanding. “What if I refuse?”

“My boys are out by the car,” she indicated with a lift of her chin. “Brian’s been itchin’ to have at y’all again after the beatin’ you gave him this summer. He ain’t drunk now, and that’s all I’ll say about that.”

“And if I don’t leave, how will you turn me in without, as you say, dragging your family through the mud?”

“The FBI loves an anonymous tip, don’t it?” She tapped the side of her nose and winked. “Easy as pie.”

He licked his lips. “I see. What about Anna?”

“What about her?” 

He closed his eyes in thought. The last thing he wanted was for this woman... this Mama... to know that he and Anna had been intimate, that they’d forged some semblance of a relationship, that maybe, just maybe, he was falling for her. “Nothing,” he clipped, shaking his head. “Nothing at all.”

“So I guess you’ve got a choice don’t y’all? You can either leave, disappear again, and get home to Sweden on your own terms -- when you want, how you want -- or you can go by force, in custody, and under the watchful eye of the press. Your choice, Bucko.”

And later that night, he made his choice. And because of that choice he loathed himself even more, if that were possible.  Like Faye, he packed his bag, tossed it in the back of his car, and left. Left in the night. Left without discussion. Left without saying goodbye. He vanished from Anna’s home, her bed, and her life. 

But unlike Faye, at least he’d left a note. 

He wondered, as he turned his Bronco toward the Eastbound Highway 40 on-ramp, whether Faye had hurt as much, or had cried as hard as he did when she left him. 

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Tender

Pairing: Ivar x OFC

Series: Brynhilda’s Saga

Warnings: Angst

Tagging: @tiyetiye @sammi-faye @anunhealthydoseofangst @salimahbicharara-comun @bluearchersstuff, @novumlibellum

        Ivar lays comfortable in the furs, a smile on his face. He still feels Brynhilda’s rough, gentle hands running themselves along his legs, getting rid of the knots within the atrophied muscle. He licks his lips, still tasting the blueberry mead she enjoys so much. He enjoys the new relationship with her. She loves as fiercely as she fights.

        There’s no pressure being with her. He doesn’t have to posture or perform, he doesn’t have to fight for her affections. Brynhilda is a woman unlike any other, she’s entirely self-reliant, capable of finding her own pleasure and happiness without him. His smile widens, she’s with him because he’s a challenge. Her words, not his. He doesn’t break under her gaze, he isn’t afraid to get nasty with her. He’s what she needed in a man. He can’t help the unadulterated joy that rises within him. She thinks of him as a man, different of course, but a man nonetheless.

        He rolls over, looking at the form next to him. Though the firelight is low, he can still see the long, ragged scar that runs down her back. The sign of betrayal she’ll never be rid of. He swallows the rage building within him, he swallows the guilt, he has yet to tell her, he doesn’t want to think about it, not now, not when everything is so peaceful.

        Brynhilda is going to wreak havoc on those that crossed her. She’s going to raise an army, spread her vengeance across the kingdom. He can see it in his mind. She’s haughty, fresh off her latest victory. Her armor is soiled with muck and blood, her hair in it’s characteristically long braid is matted with sweat, on her face is the smile of a woman who delights in warmongering. That is his Brynhilda, and he feels oh so guilty that he’ll never get to see it.

        He’s going to England with his father, and hasn’t told her yet. He can’t bear to do it, not when they just found this new peace with each other. He gulps, fearing this is his last night with her. He wants it to be meaningful, a memory they’ll remember forever. She’ll leave to wage her war, and he’ll leave for England, and they’ll never see each other again. Or if they do, she will no longer love him. Still, going to England was something he must do.

        He wants to wake her from her slumber but can’t bear to do it. She has a long day ahead of her, prepping for travel, trading for supplies. He settles with staring at her, running his fingers down the scar across her back. “Stop touching me,” He freezes at the sound of her voice. “I didn’t know you were awake,” He admits, cheeks flushing at being caught in such a tender moment. He lays his hand flat against her lower back, ignoring her request.

        “I wasn’t, until you started touching me.”

“You’ve never complained about me touching you before.” He points out, moving his hand to her ass and giving it a squeeze. She growls, shifting under the furs. “I don’t like it touched,” She admits. Her voice is so low, he strains to hear her. “My scars are connected to painful memories I’d rather not relive.” His eye dart across her back, jumping from scar to scar.

        Ivar’s brows furrow. It dawns on him that Brynhilda isn’t someone that knew true tenderness. If she did, it had been a long time. She came home from battle to a cold hut, body aching, no one to say they missed her. You’ve been used all your life, he thinks. Boggvir used you, and when you served no purpose other than to scare him, he tried to kill you.

        Ivar shifts as best he can, resting his hands on either side of her. “What are you doing?” She asks, turning around. He hushes her, pressing her shoulder, trying to keep her on her belly. “I’m giving you pleasant memories.” He says. He begins with the arrow shaped scar on the back of her neck. No doubt an assassination attempt. He presses a kiss to it. Brynhilda stiffens underneath him, but says nothing. Emboldened, he continues. Every scrape, every scratch, every scar received a kiss. It takes him awhile to accomplish this, for she has many, but he manages to do it.

He’s pressing his last kiss to the tail end of the back scar when he hears a sniffle. “Brynhilda?” He calls. Had he done something wrong? “Brynhilda, are you crying?” He crawls back up to her. She’s hiding her face in the pillow, shoulders shaking. “Brynhilda I-”

“Shut up,” She says, grabbing his arm. She yanks him on top of her, lacing her fingers with his. He smiles, he’d done something right apparently. He allows his weight to settle on her. This may be their last night together, but it would be a memorable one.

What Brynhilda can’t tell Ivar is how he makes her feel. Across her twenty odd years of life, she’d had a string of lovers. Men, women, young, old, warrior, farmer, none of them compared to Ivar, for none of them had thought of her insecurities. For as long as she could remember she hated her scars. They made for great battle stories around the fire, but when it came to the realm of love, they were constant reminders of how undesirable she was.

She remembers look at all the married women in her life, they had been smooth skinned beauties, the lot of them. She’d never have that. Then she had to go and fall in love with the biggest asshole she’d ever met. He made her feel so beautiful, with the look her gave her after they kissed. The one that makes it clear he wants her. Blue eyes would rove the planes of her naked body, she never slept with clothes on is she could help it. He’d wet his lips and make a lewd comment, even though nothing would come of it. Gods, he’d never know how much she cared for him, how much all of it meant. She wouldn’t dare tell him.

Instead, she lies there, Ivar on top of her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, making sure she knew how he felt. She closes her eyes and sends a rare prayer to the gods, let me keep him. She thinks. I couldn’t keep my family or my king, but please, let me keep him.

*

        Brynhilda is up with the sun that morning. She is heading out today, she knows it, and Ivar will be at her side. They will be an unstoppable force together. Brynhilda’s might and Ivar’s cunning. She smiles at the thought, surely it would be a battle to go be sung in the Sagas forever more, they’d be immortalized in rhyme. She snorts, better stop that train of thought, you’ve had your time to be a proud fool, and look where it got you.

        Ivar still sleeps in her temporary home, on the edge of Kattegat. Aslaug graciously allowed her to have it for the time being, a place she and Ivar can be away from prying eyes. Of course, when you’re delcared the lover of the youngest son of Ragnar, tongues start wagging. She has the idea that she’ll go pick some fruits for breakfast when she sees Ragnar cresting the hill, heading straight for her house.

        She waits for him to arrive at her gate, unwilling to move from her door. She doesn’t trust him, he has an air of desperation about him. “Hello!” He says, rather cheerfully, waving. “Ivar’s inside, he isn’t awake yet.” She tells him, jerking her thumb towards the door. “Oh, no, I didn’t want to talk to Ivar, I wanted to talk to you.” Brynhilda crosses her arms, she has a feeling she knows exactly what he’s going to say. “Speak, make it quick. I refuse to suffer long talks with old men.” Ragnar’s smile falters. “I am going to England!” He announces. “I was wondering if you would like to come with me, to make your fortune. Surely I’d be successful with Boggvir’s greatest shieldmaiden at me side.

        Brynhilda can’t help the snap reaction. She rushes Ragnar, grabs his beard, and yanks him down to her eye level. “Listen and listen well,” She snarls, “I am no one’s Shieldmaiden. The next time you mention that traitor’s name in front of me, I’ll cut out your tongue.” Ragnar gives her a shaky laugh, then gulps when she doesn’t laugh with him. “I just thought you’d like to come, considering Ivar-” Brynhilda pushes him away from her. “Ivar is going with you.” It isn’t a question. Ragnar lets out another sheepish laugh. “You didn’t know?”

        Brynhilda crosses her arms, hurt. “It’s none of my business, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you my son’s love?” Ragnar is frowning. Brynhilda can’t help her cheeks heating. She thanks Odin she’s dark enough that Ragnar doesn’t see it. “I am,” She says. “But Ivar is a person all his own. He’s able to make his own decisions.” Ragnar is going to say something else, probably try to convince her to go with him when Sigrid comes running, calling her name. “Brynhilda!” She says, skidding to a dusty stop behind Ragnar. “It’s Aslaug, she wants to see you, come quickly.”

        Brynhilda leaps over her small fence. Before she rushes off, she turns to Ragnar. “Ivar is just inside. Help yourself,” She then takes off at a trot, Sigrid keeping pace with her.

When she reaches the Great Hall, it’s empty. Aslaug is pacing, muttering to herself. “Your Majesty?” She whispers. Aslaug stops dead in her tracks. “Brynhilda!” She gasps, rushing towards her. “I know you will see reason,” she says, grabbing the girl’s shoulders. The grip is surprisingly strong, “I know Ivar will listen to you. You must convince him not to go to England. I don’t care what you tell him, just do it.” Brynhilda frowns, stepping out from Aslaug’s grasp. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Aslaug yells. “Ivar is his own person, capable of making decisions for himself. I love him, but I’m not going to stop him.”

“He will die Brynhilda! Don’t you care about that?”

“Of course, I do,” Brynhilda says softly, wrapping her arms around herself. Aslaug had seen his death, this day just kept getting worse. Life without Ivar would be hard. She’d only have her revenge to live for, not someone to come home victorious to. Then what? Without her love, there would be nothing beyond her victory. Somehow, she manages to keep herself together, her voice is calm, “It is still his decision.”

“Then go with him. Protect him, make sure he’s safe.”

“We both know I won’t do that.”

“Why because of your silly war?”

“It’s not war! I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine!” Brynhilda would’ve kept yelling if the change over Aslaug’s face hadn’t been so terrifying. Looking much like the death hag, Aslaug rushes at her. “You snake!” Aslaug roars, slapping Brynhilda soundly across her cheek. “You filthy traitor! You care no more for my son than anyone else!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t care!” Brynhilda says, stopping the next slap. Aslaug stops her ranting in shock, no one had ever dared to accuse her of not loving her son. “You have coddled Ivar all his life, kept him from the world, from experience because you wanted something, anything to hold close to your heart. It is time to stop being selfish, your majesty. It’s time to let Ivar go, he is grown enough to take command of his own destiny. Allow him the dignity to do so.”

        Aslaug wrenches her hand away from Brynhilda. “Go,” She says, eyes filled with tears. Brynhilda doesn’t need to be told twice.

*

        There is something off about Brynhilda, Ivar just can’t tell what. She hasn’t spoken to him since she came back from wherever she had been. He hasn’t said anything to break the silence. Her savagery is lurking just beneath her beautiful green eyes. “Brynhilda?” He asks, quietly. She slams her hand on the table, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going with Ragnar?” She growls, looking at him. Ivar gulps, shit. “I didn’t want to upset you,” He whispers truthfully. Things had been so good these last weeks, he couldn’t help it if he wanted it to last a little longer. “I wouldn’t have been upset!” She admits. “Ivar, I wouldn’t have held it against you. I know what something like this must mean to you. Hell, if MY father walked through that door right now and told me we were going to the Mediterranean, I wouldn’t ask any questions. What did you think I was going to do?”

“Hit me,” Ivar answers honestly. “Yell at me, beg me not to go.” There’s a look of hurt that crosses her face.

“Then you don’t really know me at all, do you?” She whispers.  Ivar frowns, he knows her well enough, doesn’t he? “Ivar, I understand that there are things one must do in life. I understand that you must go to England, and I must go to war.” She sits down, grabbing his hands in hers. “I would not try to stop you from doing what you need to do. It would be cruel of me, selfish. I do not want to be that sort of woman.”

        Ivar takes her face in his hands and brings her close for a kiss. It’s soft, and full of thanks on his behalf. To find someone who understands him so completely is refreshing. “Mother says I am going to die.” Brynhilda nods. “I will mourn you,” She says, sniffing. “Ass that you are,”

“Man that you love?” Ivar asks hopefully. Brynhilda laughs, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Man that I love,” She agrees. They look at each other for a few moments. “Ok,” She says, standing. “I don’t want to stay in this smelly hut all day feeling sorry for our future. I want to enjoy my last day with you.”

        Ivar crawls off his seat, “It sounds like a plan,”

[shiftyskip]

Donald “Don” George Malarkey

(This is a really long post about Malarkey. Feel free to skim it or read it all.)

The real Donald Malarkey:

Donald George Malarkey was born on July 31, 1921 in Astoria, Oregon. His mother, Helen, and father, Leo, had four children: Leo who was called John (his middle name), Don, Bob, and Marilyn (who Don called Molly). Leo was about two years older than Don. Bob was about five years younger. Molly was fifteen years younger.

While growing up, Leo never stayed with his children much. He was gone most of the time for work, leaving Don, his siblings, and his mom alone in their cabin. His father was drunk and Malarkey was a high school senior working in a grill. Malarkey recalls his father had looked at him and had yelled, in front of God and everyone, “There’s my no-good son.” Malarkey’s mother was loving on the other hand. She took them to church every Sunday, where Malarkey would become an alter boy (much like Skip Muck, his later best friend). She would take her children berry-picking. He describes these times as the happiest memories he had.

Malarkey learned how to trap and hunt with a bow and arrow from his half-Indian friend Louie Jacobson. Malarkey said that the outside was the place he felt closet to God and not in church. The boys spent most of their time in the woods. Malarkey loved nature, it seemed it loved him back because he got in trouble with a nun for carrying a chipmunk around in his shirt pocket when he was 12. 

After that his father sent him to work at a dairy farm. A forest fire sadly raged against him and took that barn. He worked against it till 10:00 PM, trying to put it out until he was taken home. He went to bed, only for an hour again to be awoken again. The fire had shifted and was headed towards their house. His family found themselves in the middle of a raging forest fire. They grabbed the things they wanted the most into their car and a little trailer and drove off to a nearby field that was safe from the fire. In the morning, his house was gone. 

The Great Depression hit around when Malarkey was 8. He started working when money started getting short when he was 15. His father’s insurance business went bankrupt in 1938. Malarkey claimed it was because he trusted people too much. He didn’t want to go after money that was owed him and Malarkey admired him for that. 

A month later they lost the house. His brother John moved out to California with relatives. The younger siblings, Molly and Bob, were to move to a replacement cabin with his mother and father while Malarkey was to go live with his grandmother. Malarkey was deeply upset at his loss. He lost the dream of playing Catholic All-State Basketball for Astoria High, he had transferred into Astoria High for his final year of high school. He couldn’t get rides home if he attended the games so he gave up. He was injured and also had to give up football.

His father gave up on a deeper level. He retreated further and further after the bankruptcy. He wanted nothing to do with his family, especially his children. He drank more and more. Helen would stay in the cabin and his father would go out every night. No one knew where he went. Malarkey became the sole aid for his family. He vowed he would never do what his father did; he would never quit. 

After his family separated, music became a “serious addiction”. He used to sing for his mother and would go out with his buddies on Sunday campfire nights. Malarkey says that music was a salvation. It made him forget everything else. 

Malarkey graduated in 1939 and got a job to afford his dream college, the University of Oregon. He worked at the Pillsbury Flour Mill.. He eventually made enough money to get through college and bought a ‘36 Chevrolet. He bought his own apartment Bernice, his girlfriend, and her father owned the apartment that he bought. 

Malarkey enrolled in college in 1941, after eventually selling his car to afford it. He joined the fraternity Sigma Nu and the members eventually persuaded him to break up with Bernice because she wasn’t a part of a sorority. Malarkey sang in their choir while also pursuing a business administration degree. He was required to take the ROTC class. After being sick and missing a test, his instructor flunked him. Malarkey handed his uniform back. He went home and worked as a machinist. 

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Malarkey had first attempted to enlist in the Marines but was denied. When he was 21, Malarkey was drafted. On September 12, 1942, Malarkey arrived at Fort Lewis and volunteered to be in the Paratroopers. He headed to St. Louis (near the author’s house actually) where he met Robert Rader, Don Hoobler, and William Howell before they were shipped to Toccoa.

Malarkey was under the command of Sobel during his training. There he met Skip Muck. They bonded over their mutual hate of Sobel, who Muck described as “the devil in jump boots”. They became a team and belonged to the same mortar squad. They ran Currahee side by side and would often get in trouble with Sobel for talking while doing so. They both were adventurous, happy-go-lucky, witty, and loved a good laugh. Their real bond was in the same music: Glenn Miller, Mills Brothers, Harry James, and others. They loved Frank Sinatra’s Moonlight Serenade. They’d go out to the PX and listen to the jukebox there daily. Malarkey was corresponding with Bernice again and Muck had Faye Tanner, both of their girls back home. They would talk about the girls often and would read their letters on a daily. Malarkey says that Muck replaced his family and friends back home as the person he was closest to. They would talk about they’d visit each other after the war and go fishing. 

In the 118 mile march in late November, Muck stayed near Malarkey. When Malarkey was so sore he couldn’t walk, Muck grabbed them both food and sat next to Malarkey. He told Malarkey, “No friend of mine crawls anywhere” when Malarkey had attempted to crawl to Mess. When Malarkey told him he didn’t think he could make it, Muck told him “I’ll get you to Atlanta if I have to drag you.” When they crossed into Atlanta, Skip was right there with Malarkey, yelling he’s make it if he had to carry him. Sadly this dynamic duo would not be together long. Skip and Malarkey crossed over to England, only to find out they were being so staged. Winters said the reason he split them up was because they were practically brothers. If Muck went down, either killed our wounded, the other will be of no use and vice versa.

In April in England, Malarkey got a head cold. It got so bad that he had to go to the hospital in London. When he arrived, he had a 105 fever and was given a ton of medicine. He woke up bleeding from his ears and nose. Later he was told that if he hadn’t arrived at that time, the infection would’ve spread to his brain. He was transferred to St. Albans. He was there for two weeks. When the Doctor threatened that Malarkey should not jump out of an airplane and should be removed from the paratroopers, Malarkey told him he’d risk permanent damage to his ears and was discharged back to Easy.

Malarkey jumped on D-Day into Normandy. He connected with Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye near Ste. Mère-Énglise. When they reached the rest of their batallion, Malarkey ran into the German prisoners. One of men asked if the POWS were from Brooklyn, one responded that he was from Portland, Oregon. Malarkey hung back to talk to him. Malarkey and this POW had worked right across the street from each other. He fought with Winters and his small group of men to secure ground against the Germans. Throughout the whole day, Malarkey carried a picture of Bernice in his helmet.

In Carentan, Malarkey witnessed Father John Maloney walking down the middle of the road, holding a cross, and adminstrating last rites for the dying men. Malarkey was wounded in his right hand by shrapnel. He ran to Doc Roe, who without looking informed him it was a Purple Heart wound. He refused it, saying it was not bad enough. After the battle, Winters asked Malarkey to put a wounded German out of his misery, and Malarkey did.

Malarkey went back to Aldbourne, England with Alton More for a short three day break. Easy had jumped with 139 men, it now had 74. In the end, they were joined by the rest of Easy. The men were struggling with physical and mental wounds.Malarkey saved Joe Toye from jumping off a roof by convincing him to come back down.

September 17, 1944 Malarkey jumped easily into Holland. They were treated with open arms by the Dutch. When they reached fighting, Malarkey, Heffron, Guarnere, and Toye stumbled upon Compton. Compton was getting shot in the ass a lot and begged them to leave him and run. They ripped the door off a farm and dragged him with them until they reached a tank to put him on.

When they left for France, the Dutch cheered for them again. They chanted “September 17!” Which was the day Easy has helped liberate them.When they arrived in France, they stayed in Camp Mourmelon. Compton found him and thanked him for the “barn-door ride”. Malarkey convinced Skip to let him gamble for him and earned several times more than what he had been given.

On December 16, Malarkey learned Easy was being sent to Belgium. Muck passed him in another truck and the boys smiled at each other. They reached Foy around December 19 and were orders to stay in the wooded area near Foy. They dug fox holes in the cold, wet ground and slid in. They tried to expand their foxholes but the temperature was dropping too fast.

Father Maloney had a service with the Catholic members of Easy. It was Skip’s idea to help with the spiritual encouragement. Muck, Penkala, Malarkey, and a few others gathered together. Skip and Malarkey had not gotten to see each other since Mourmelon and when the group parted, Malarkey saw the rosary Skip had carried everywhere and told him to stay safe. Skip told him he’d see him again, they shook hands, and separated.

Malarkey became a unit sergeant and started watching out for any of the men that might need a break. After witnessing a man lose both of his feet, Malark began to wear burlap bags around his feet. He didn’t care much for his pride and let the Easy men poke fun at him.

In early January, JoeToye lost his leg after the Germans rattled the forest with heavy artillery fire. Guarnere raced to help his struggling friend and ended up losing his leg as well. Malarkey ran to Joe Toye’s side. Malarkey tried to convince his friend that everything would be okay, his mind playing back to that night he found him up on the roof. Toye simply asked him for a cigarette. Malarkey gave it to him. Joe asked him, “What’s a guy gotta go do to die, Malark?”. Malarkey didn’t have an answer.

After witnessing most of his friends be horribly injured or killed, Buck Compton was sent back to Paris and he said his sad goodbyes to Malarkey. Before he left, he asked Malarkey what the other man thought of him. Malarkey replied, “They think you’re a hell of an officer, Buck.”

On January 10, Skip Muck, Mallark’s best friend, died. A direct hit on his and Penkala’s foxhole killed them instantly. Malarkey lost the man who was a brother to him, but he couldn’t cry, he had to keep strong. Roe broke the news to Malarkey and gave him Muck’s rosary. Winters tried to send him back to recover but Malarkey refused and instead stayed with the men.

Malarkey fought survived the Battle of Foy. He was enraged at the death of another commander and shot a German. He learned the boy was 16. Malarkey kept his records and recalled his face for the rest of his life. Malarkey considers the war had officially ended for him is Bastogne, although it was far from over.

In Haguenau, about 160 miles from Bastogne, Easy received replacements. They regained Webster, who had been out since Holland or Normandy. Webster didn’t notice Malarkey didn’t want to talk much about the men they lost and kept asking him where the others were. Malarkey responded patiently but not happily. He received letters from Toye on how him and Guarnere were recovering but not Bernice, who hadn’t been writing him lately. 

In February of 1945, a patrol was sent out across the Moder River and capture Germans. Malarkey was originally supposed to go but he was replaced by another. This was the final patrol of Easy.  After three weeks in Haguenau, they returned to Mourmelon, where he wrote to Faye Tanner. They continued to write to each other for a while.

Malark came down with some form of Rhine River Malaria and was sent to an army hospital on Belgium. He stayed there with people who were faking to be sick to stay out of fighting. It made him furious that the men were such cowards. He demanded to return to his unit for days on end until eventually he was discharged.

When the war with Germany ended, Malarkey was by himself in a pub in Belgium. He believed it was just to be him that day when he ran into Frank Perconte. Frank was on his way back to Easy from England and the two men were joined by Burr Smith, also returning back to Easy. These men spent the victory day with each other, leaving Malarkey feeling a bit better. 

In Mid-May the three returned to Easy. They had missed the capture of Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest, but still got a few things. They all believed they were to be sent home but the war had not ended in Japan. It was believed that 101st Airborne would be sent to the Pacific theater. If they were to be shipped to the Pacific, they would all get 21 days in the states. They moved to Austria where they swam, boated, and enjoyed the warm weather. At this point, Malarkey had seen 177 days of war.

At Kaprun, Winters offered Malarkey a position as a technical adivsor in Paris. Malarkey took it eagerly and Winters offered to drive him to the airport. They had stopped once before the airport, where they met Sobel. He commented that Malarkey had obviously been doing things. Malarkey writes about the famous “we salute the rank, not the man” incident and says that by the end of the war he had an odd respect for the man. 

Malarkey was discharged on November 25, 1945. He spent three days after discharging with Bernice, who had come to see him. He did not go meet Faye Tanner, out of fear he might disrespect Skip by falling in love with her. He got a salute from the premier tenor of the New York Metropolitan Opera, Lauritz Melchoir, which made him feel extremely proud of himself. He returned home in time for Christmas.

Malarkey at the age 24 started college at the University of Oregon again. Although he tried his best to make his life the same again, Malarkey suffered from after affects from the war everywhere he went. A car backfiring sent him ducking for cover, saw Toye and Guarnere wounded again, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, or imagined a German bayoneting him. He didn’t tell anyone about his struggles. He took a photo he had of Easy and marked every man that had died or been severly wounded. There were 34 KIA and 61 wounded. Every time he looked at that photo, he suffered from survivor's guilt. 

In March he broke up with Bernice. Later he met a girl named Irene Moor. They fell in love. Malarkey proposed to her around Easter by planting a ring in an Easter egg in her basket. They married and had one son and three daughters. His father would die in 1955 and his mother in 1965. Bernice went on to be a famous singer. 

Malarkey never returned to normal. He hated the winter and tried to drink the months away. He became closer with Joe Toye over drunk phone calls. While living in Portland, at age 60, he drove home during a snow storm. He was depressed and had been out drinking and was driving toward Mount Hood, where there was a thousand foot canyon he planned to drive off of. He wanted to be buried in the snow, “like Skip had been buried in that snowy foxhole”. He talked himself out of it and told himself he’d never quit. 

In 1980, Malarkey started attending the reunions and learned he actually had a fear of heights. Malarkey met Faye Tanner at an Easy Company reunion in the 90s, where they both broke down and cried. She’d saved his jump wings and other items. 

The series Band of Brothers led Malarkey becoming close with Richard Speight Jr., who played Skip. When Richard had first called to ask questions about Skip, Malarkey hung up on him because he couldn’t take the pain. In 1991, Malarkey visited Skip’s grave for the first time. He did not cry. He returned in 2004 and visited once more. He stopped and pictured Skip and all their moments together. He cried what he called ‘sixty years’ worth of tears’. 

Irene died in 2006. Malarkey would go on to public speaking until his death on September 30, 2017.

[justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses]

Blindsided

Hi there! This is my first time requesting a B.O.B reader insert, but I was thinking that if you could make a reader!combat nurse/Joe Liebgott ( one sided Skip Muck) where the reader has a crush on her best & childhood friend, Skip Muck, but is blind by Joe’s feelings towards her. After Skip dies, the reader finds out that Joe’s comfort and friendship towards her slowly makes her fall in love with him. I know its kinda cheesy, but I hope you would accept it! - anon

A/N- sorry this has taken so long but I may have gotten a little carried away, this has taken like three weeks to write and got way longer than i intended but i hope you like it

—

Faye Tanner was perfect in every way. She was sweet, beautiful and funny, you couldn’t even hate her. There was no question as to why Skip had fallen in love with her. Skip was your best friend and always had been, you couldn’t remember a time in your life when he wasn’t in it, you realised that somewhere along the way you had fallen in love with him, only it was too late. He was in love with Faye Tanner, the girl who had moved into town a few months ago.

You tried to hate her, to find a flaw that made her unworthy, but she was perfect and nice and love him back. They were the perfect couple.

Skip didn’t stop hanging out with you, perhaps that would have been easier, he remained your best friend and you still did everything together with the notable addition of Faye. Then Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia and started a whole mess, when Skip joined up to fight you weren’t going to let him go alone. So, you joined up to be a combat nurse, by some miracle you were assigned to tag along with the company that Skip was in.

You trained separately to the company with the other nurses and occasionally the medics would join you, whenever you got the time you would seek out Skip and his new friends Penkala and Malarkey. He was always talking about Faye, it hurt but you kept a smile on your face - you didn’t want to ruin your best friend’s happiness. He talked about her so much that the whole company knew about sweet Faye Tanner.

Faye sent him a multitude of letters which would always have him gushing to you about her, you couldn’t stop the thoughts about what your life would be like if Skip felt the way he felt about Faye about you. You knew one thing for sure, Faye was the luckiest girl in the world.

—

The restaurant you had set up as a med bay was full of soldiers, most of which had been bandaged up by now. “I’m gonna go see if I can round anyone up,” you told Roe as you walked past and out into the streets of Carentan. You kept close to the walls lest there were any more German soldiers hidden.

You rounded a corner and saw a soldier holding another who was bloodied and lay on the floor. Rushing over you dropped next to them, “It’s Tipper,” you looked up and met Joe’s eyes. You pulled out some sulfa and began to sprinkle it over the wound on his face, eyeing his leg with concern.

“Go get a stretcher,” you order the other two soldiers who ran off quickly.

“Will he be okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“Of course,” you replied, though there was worry in your eyes. He needed some serious medical attention and soon. You patted Joe’s shoulder and helped him lift Tipper onto the stretcher the others had brought back and carry him back to the med bay.

—

You were laid out on the steps with Skip as the sun shined brightly on you, he and the guys were gossiping about Speirs who had supposedly gunned down 20 POW’s on D-Day. You were so enthralled by Skip’s story telling that you didn’t notice Liebgott looking at you from across the courtyard. “As long as he sticks to shooting POW’s then I don’t care,” you commented.

“Well I heard he shot his own sergeant,” Penkala countered.

“What?”

“No way!” you exclaimed, this was the first time since D-Day that everything felt almost normal again. Sitting around with Skip and your friends, laughing without a care in a world, though the absence of Faye did seem almost unsettling - you hated to admit that seeing Skip without her felt wrong now. You pushed the thought aside, this was the first time in forever that she hadn’t been at Skip’s side and you were going to enjoy this time together; it’d be like old times, with the notable addition of German artillery.

—

Everyone was going to London on 48 hour passes and Skip had saddled you into going with him, you managed to bag a window seat on the train with him and Malarkey before it got too jam packed. You paid half attention to their card game as you looked out the window, the two got on incredibly well - you didn’t even mind that Don could be considered Skip’s best friend because he was always so nice and genuine, plus Skip hadn’t edged you out because of him (he was too caring to do such a thing which was why you had fallen for him so hard).

London was busy and smoggy and so full of life, it was easy to get lost in the winding streets but somehow all of the easy boys had managed to end up in the same pub. A small live band played an uptempo tune, most of the guys were playing cards or flirting with the local girls. You stayed close to the bar as Skip and Penkala had a game of darts beside you and sipped at a beer, not your favourite drink but it was something to do. “We’re on leave, you’re supposed to look happy,” Joe smirked as he slid in next to you.

You shot him a smile and turned to face him, “Drinking beer at the back of a pub is hardly a girl’s idea of a good time.”

He smirked, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You were a little shocked but nodded, “Sure thing.” You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor where a few other couples had congregated to dance to the band.

You swayed with him and let out a surprised squeal when he suddenly spun you outwards then tugged you back in, you gently collided with his chest. “Oh, that’s how you wanna play?” you laughed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe smirked.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” you restored as you tugged him suddenly into a correct dancing position and he let out a surprised ‘oof’. “I’d let you lead but I don’t think you’d know what to do,” you teased.

“That so?” He stepped you back and you were shocked that he knew the right steps to the dance, the two of you stepped quickly in time to the beat of the music not noticing the attention you began to get from the patrons sitting at the tables. Joe spun you around effortlessly maneuver the two of you across the dance floor, this was a thousand times better than watching the dart game you had already forgotten about.

The song cane to an end just as Joe dipped you, you received a round of applause and a few whistles as he brought you back up causing you to smile and duck your head to hide your blush. “That was really fun,” you grinned, the band started up a new song and the bar returned to their previous activities and Joe les you off to the side. “You’re such a great friend, Joe.”

You didn’t see his smile falter. “No problem,” he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though you had no idea why.

“Hey, Y/N, come over here!” Skip yelled across the bar.

“I’m coming,” you yelled back over your shoulder, “Thanks for the dance,” you smiled at Joe once more before making your way over to Skip.

—

Winters came up to you after the attack, you were patching up a small wound on a man whose finger had gotten jammed in his gun. “Y/L/N, can I speak to you for a second?”

“Of course, sir,” you tightened the bandage and stood up to face him, “What is it?”

“I just sent Liebgott back to HQ, he has a gunshot wound that I don’t think he’ll get patched up.”

You nodded with a frown, “I’m on it, sir.”

You caught up with Joe just as he had dropped off the German POW’s and your eyes instantly hones in on the bloodied bandage tied badly around your neck. “What the hell is this?” you cried, hands flying to his neck to assess the damage but he brushed your hands off.

“It’s fine.”

You shot him your best unimpressed look that you had to use on soldiers reluctant to have their wounds looked at. “Sit,” you stated firmly, pointing at the wooden boxes that lay outside the building.

With a roll of his eyes he sat and you knelt in front of him, you could feel his eyes on you as you undid the bandage and sprinkled some sulfa over the wound. “You’re lucky, it’s not infected. It’ll leave a scar, though,” you told him and tied a clean bandage securely around his neck.

Leaning back you made eye contact with him, “Keep it clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you smiled as you packed up your aid kit.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify, “Must’ve forgot.”

—

You were sat next to Skip as you watched the film in front of you, it was your tenth time seeing it and Luz had been doing impressions for the last eight so you had learned by now sit as far away as possible from him.

“Skip! Come on! -Where you been?” Malarkey came into the screening, leaning over you to get to Skip and earning shushes from Lipton and Toye at the front.

“Well, l was at home in Tonawanda then Hitler started this, so now I’m here,” snarked Skip and you chuckled quietly.

“How’d you make out in craps?” you asked Malarkey.

He grinned and produced a wad of cash and handed over to Skip, “Here’s the $60 l borrowed.”

“You’re paying me back?” Skip asked incredulously, no one ever got the money back that they had borrowed other guys.

“And as thank-you,”

“Surprising.”

“A tip!” Malarkey gleefully handed over another handful of cash.

“Jesus!”

“Shut up!”

“Only $3600 left.”

“What’ll you do with that?” you asked.

“Blow most of it in Paris as soon as possible.”

“Give me a tip.”

It was not to be, the movie got shut off and you were told that you were going to be shuffled onto the front line again. You had no food supplies, ammo or winter clothing. You were fucked.

—

You were squished into the back of a truck, pressed against Joe’s side and desperately trying to steal warmth from the guys around you, you had tried to get in next to Skip but the truck had filled up too quickly leaving you exposed to the frosty air at the back of the truck with Joe.

“Christ I miss those C-47’s,” Guarnere complained and you were inclined to agree.

“Where are we going with no ammo?” someone question, as a combat nurse you couldn’t carry a gun but not that it would make much of a difference. You could feel it in your bones that you were all walking into something bad.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name?” another guy bothered a replacement.

“Suerth Jr.”

“You got any ammo junior?”

“Just what I’m carrying.”

“Any extra socks?”

“A pair.”

“You need four minimum,” Skip piped up, “Feet, neck, hands, balls.”

“Extra sock warms them all,” you chimed in with the rest of the guys with a small smile that was tucked away in your jacket collar.

Skip laughed, “Good, we all remember that one. But did we remember the socks!?”

“I want a cigarette.”

“I want ammo and socks.”

“I bet juniors got plenty of both.” The replacement protested but the guys were all throwing requests at him.

“A hat?”

“Extra ammo?”

“An aid kit?” you chipped in, knowing you’d need all you can get your hands on.

“How about a coat? You got a coat?” Joe asked.

Someone figured out he had smokes which quickly got passed around, you didn’t smoke yourself but you appreciated the hot smoke that was coming off the end of Joe’s right next to you even if it was only minuscule.

—

You shivered against a tree and scooped up a spoonful of beans, you were sick of Bastogne. As if the cold wasn’t bad enough you were called out of the safety of your foxhole during almost every barrage or after to treat another man severely wounded, with no aid kits to go around. You were using bed sheets from the hospital in the town.

The only thing you couldn’t complain about was the company, you watched with a grin as Skip narrated the wounds the guys had garnered since Normandy. “George Luz has never been hit, you’re one lucky bastard, George.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Ah, consider us blessed.”

“Better keep it that way gentlemen,” you tossed over, you smiled but it was the truth that you never wanted to treat another friend.

“You bet,” Skip winked at you and your heart fluttered, you ducked your head to hide your blush, glad that the cold made your cheeks flushed already.

—

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Lipton crouched at the edge of your foxhole.

“Sure, what is it?” you flashed him a smile. He sighed heavily and looked away and a bad feeling settled into your gut. “What is it? Is someone hurt?” You stood up in an instant.

You were halfway out of your foxhole when- “It’s Skip.” Your heart stopped cold.

“Is-is he okay? How bad is he hurt?” you asked frantically.

Lipton sighed heavily and shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, “Where?” your voice was thick and your eyes stung but no tears fell.

Lipton lead you over to a crater that was already being covered with a dusting of snow. This was where it had happened. This was his foxhole. Here one minute and gone the next. It was a direct hit. You vaguely registered the chatter of the men around you, Muck and Penkala.

In the corner of your eye you saw Luz hand Malarkey a piece of broken rosary but your eyes were fixed on the foxhole. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be alive and go home and marry Faye and have babies and live a long happy life.

Luz came and stood next to you, snapping your attention away from the ground. “I saw it happen.”

“Was he in pain?” you asked, you could barely hear yourself your mind was so full of grief.

“No,” Luz shook his head, “No, they didn’t feel a thing.”

Eventually they began to filter away until only you and Malarkey remained, both overcome with sorrow and unable to express it.

Malarkey held out the broken rosary, “You should have this, you were his best friend.”

You glanced at the rosary in his outstretched palm, thinking back of the perfect choir boy he had been when he wasn’t getting himself in danger, you closed Malarkey’s fingers back around the rosary and shook your head. “No, he would have wanted you to have it.” There was no way you could have faith in God after this.

You gave him a sad smile and patted his shoulder as you walked away, Malarkey was the only one who came close to knowing exactly what you were going through. The only difference being he wasn’t secretly in love with your mutual best friend, at least as far as you were aware. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay with him, you had duties and now wasn’t a time to grieve.

Someone had to answer the calls for medic, someone had to tell Faye, someone had to make sure everyone was doing alright. It had to be you and you wouldn’t lose yourself to this loss, not now when you were on the front lines.

—

You heard snow crunch above you and you tensed, relaxing when you saw Joe’s silhouette appear at the edge of your foxhole and crouch. “Lieb? Do you need something?”

“You got a foxhole buddy?” he asked.

“No, hop in.” Joe jumped in and sat next to you, it wasn’t much but the extra warmth was appreciated as you tossed your blanket over him and squished into his side.

“How you doing?” he asked quietly and you instantly knew what he meant.

Despite your earlier promise to push off the grief you couldn’t stop your eyes welling up and your throat becoming thick, “It’s not fair.” That was the sentence that broke the dam, tears fell freely and you shook from the sobs and the cold.

Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him as you sobbed silently against his chest, “It’s okay,” he murmured, “It’ll be okay.”

—

You don’t know how it happened but you found yourself coming back to Joe often, no matter which foxhole he was staying in. He was the only one of the guys (barring Skip) who had ever seen you cry, seen you so vulnerable and the fact that he didn’t blab about it sparked a connection.

It was easy to feel overcome with misery as you watched Foy endlessly and hid away during barrages, losing yet another friend in your arms. Joe was a comfort, a small relief from the horrors you faced daily.

“Hey, Joe,” you slid in next to him, your teeth chattering. After a moment’s hesitation Joe wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to warm you up. You smirked, “Cuddling, Leib? Didn’t take you as the type.”

“Shut up, it’s cold,” he reasoned.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes with a small smile, noting that your teeth had at least stopped chattering.

—

“Smoke?”

“Sure.”

Joe couldn’t contain his surprise when you plucked the lit cigarette from him and took a drag, by now so used to the smoke permeating from the boys that you only choked a little.

“What’s with the change of heart?”

“We might die today.”

“We might die every day,” Joe pointed out.

“Today in particular.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joe sighed as you looked out across the open field before Foy. Dike had asked you to stick with him and Luz during the assault, maybe it was because he didn’t trust you or maybe it was because he didn’t want to have to wait for a medic if he got hit. Either way you were unhappy with the choice.

You smoked the cigarette until it was burning your fingers and crushed it into the snow beneath your boot. You were not going to die today.

“I’ll see you on the other side, alright?” Joe squeezed your shoulder and went to join his platoon.

—

Speirs was a godsend, bat shit crazy but you were glad he was on your side. Morale was significantly raised, Dike was done for and we had captured the town we had been looking over for a month. You were stood next to the soldiers on the tank who were singing for the cameras when a gunshot sounded.

A man above you fell from the tank, just as you were about to check another shot sounded at the same time as you felt something embed in your stomach. You fell back to the ground as a searing pain spread through your abdomen.

You were unaware of the chaos as you stared up at the sky, it was grey and clouds swirled above. You couldn’t feel the cold, though you shivered and convulsed as warm blood spilled over your fingers, down your wrists, spread across your OD’s.

A muffled shot, applaud, then Joe’s face appeared above yours and blocked out the sky. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear what he was saying, more faces gathered in your vision but you couldn’t focus on any other than Joe’s frantic face. You tried to speak but your tongue was heavy, you were so tired. You were going to die today. Your eyes slipped shut and someone patted your cheek gently, then hard.

Snapping your eyes open you saw Roe had taken Joe’s place, his eyes full of fury and worry at the same time.

At the same time as the voices could be heard again a sharp pain sparked through you. You screamed out in pain.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Joe’s voice yelled near you.

“There’s no exit wound. Gotta get the bullet out,” Roe snapped back, jaw clenched as his fingers dug into your open wound.

The pain lasted for 15 more agonising seconds before he procured the bullet and tossed the crumpled bloodied metal aside. It was a strange relief and you sagged against someone who had propped you up into a sitting position. You could feel the blood pulsing heavier now.

Roe expertly sprinkled half a pack of sulfa, all he had left, and tied a bandage tightly around you. You glanced down and saw the pool of blood on your clothes and snow around you, you had gotten so used to seeing it but it still shocked you.

“Will she be okay?” You heard Joe ask, you realised he was the person who you were leaning back against.

Roe gave a nod, “She’ll live.”

—

Despite the thought that you would be taken off the line the company pressed on, Noville and Rachamps were next on the list. You weren’t allowed to take part, obviously, but there was no aid station nearby. You hung back with Perconte and a few others, unsettled by the sounds of the battle you couldn’t help with.

At the end of it all the company was given board in a church, the first time you had slept indoors in a month. Perconte was laid out on a stretcher near you and you were sat next to Joe on a pew. The bullet hadn’t hit anything major so you knew you’d be back soon, and the guys were getting pulled off the line tomorrow anyway.

All you wanted to do was sleep but you wanted to savour this moment, safe, warm and listening to the sweet voices of the choir. It reminded you of being dragged to church back home, sitting next to Faye as Skip sang in the boys choir. It still hurt to think of Skip, you wondered if Faye knew yet, what surprised you was that though the pain of his loss was deep for the first time you weren’t associating Faye with your unrequited love.

Skip would always be your first love but maybe now he was gone you could move on, maybe that sounded selfish but you knew that he wouldn’t want you or Faye to be hung up over him. Joe had played a big part in keeping you sane, you wished you could have done more to help Malarkey who was sinking into himself like you would have done if not for Joe.

“What are you thinking about?” Joe whispered.

“Everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said, the choir began another soft song that you didn’t know the words to. You reached an laced your fingers with Joe’s which layed on his leg. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze forward on the choir until he too averted his eyes from you. Finally you let your eyes slip shut, warm and content with Joe’s hand in yours.

—

Webster walked along the line of trucks trying to find second platoon, finally he recognised the guys on the back. “This second platoon.” The men looked at him silently. “Some lieutenant from first told me to come here.”

“Yeah this is second.”

“Jackson, right? Help me up?” Jackson reluctantly helped pull him up onto the truck and he looked down at the few men on the back of the truck.

“So, you just got back from the from the hospital?” Jackson asked

“Yeah.”

“Must have liked that hospital, because we left Holland four months ago,” Liebgott inputted, not looking at him.

“l wasn’t only there. There was rehab, the replacement depot,” Webster tried to explain.

“I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne..”

“How would l have done that?”

“Popeye found a way. So did Alley, back in Holland. And Guarnere–”

“Where is Guarnere? He still platoon sergeant?” “No.”

“Well where’s Y/L/N? She get transferred?” Webster asked, noting the lack of their female combat medic.

He saw Joe tense up, “No,” he bit out, “She got shot. Sniper in Foy.”

“Is she going home?”

Joe scoffed, “She’ll be back.”

“Let’s go.”

“Bill got hit in January,” Babe said as they hopped off the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he got hit. Blew his whole leg off.”

—

The aid station was hell, there were hardly enough beds or supplies but thankfully you managed to stay with Perconte who was on the bed next to you.

You were both were healing nicely, well at least enough to go AWOL so you didn’t get lumped in with a new company. Easy hadn’t been pulled off the line and they needed whatever help they could get. You had been keeping an eye on the rounds the nurses made looking for the right opportunity, you were both dressed in clean uniforms and showered (what a fucking blessing) and you were anxious to get back to the guys, back to Joe.

You managed to sneak out of the hospital and hitch a ride to the city centre, badgering people on where Easy was until you caught word of a small town named Hagenau near the Rhine. That was where you had to go, you got a ride on the back of a runner’s truck and you bounced your leg the whole time.

The town was drab and grey, mortar damage evident. “Where shall we start?” Perconte asked.

“Supply room?”

“Of course.”

You heard squabbling coming from within, recognising the lilt of Joe’s voice, there was some very serious talk of hershey bars. Frank stepped into the room first and you followed after him, you were surprised to see Webster back amongst the men and a new Lieutenant which was less surprising. “Hey fellas.”

The group turned their attention to the two of you standing in the doorway. Joe’s face lit up at the sight of you and you gave him a beaming smile back. Martin came over and slung his arms around yours and Percontes shoulders, “Would you look at that? I try and get these two out of the war and they come straight back.”

“No kidding, I’d be lost without my boys,” you grinned and walked over to join the group. You stood next to Joe, “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi back,” he whispered.

“Here’s a hershey bar,” George tossed Perconte a chocolate bar, “And for the lovely medic,” he passed you one and winked exaggeratedly.

“Such a charmer,” you flirted back, a large amused smirk on your face. George was the first one to break character and laugh, you followed seconds after.

“They get a fucking hershey bar?” Joe asked indignantly.

George shrugged unapologetically, “They got shot in combat.”

“I’ll share mine,” you told Joe quietly, glad to see a small smile slip back on his face.

“I heard the Germans are done for,” Perconte said as he waddled over.

You saw everyone shift. “Yeah well just to make sure they want us to row across the river tonight, grab a few and make sure.”

“You’re serious?”

“Wish I was. Welcome back Frank.”

You sighed, you were officially sick of war.

—

You watched Joe speak German to the prisoners of the camp, there were too many thin frail bodies in the crowd to get to him yourself. You saw him collapse onto the truck bench and the other soldiers began to herd them back into the camp, you pushed on through the crowd and sat next to Joe who was still sobbing.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, Joe clung to you tightly as he cried for his people and what he just had to do. No words were said, they didn’t need to be, you would always be there to comfort one another without judgement. It was just how you worked.

—

“Do you have enough points?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

You sighed, you were sick of the waiting game to jump into Japan. You heard through the rumour mill that Winters had applied to transfer to the 13th airborne to get it over with and you were tempted to do the same but you couldn’t leave easy. You couldn’t leave Joe.

For months now you had been pushing aside your feelings towards Joe. Perhaps it was the relative peace you now lived in, the rolling hills and glistening lakes did little to quell these thoughts. You didn’t know when they began, was it Bastogne or even earlier? Either way they were here and didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, you always did fall much too deeply.

“If we make it out of Japan what’ll you do?” Joe asked. The two of you were laying back in a field, enjoying the sun and cloud watching having just come off from patrol duty.

“I never really thought about it,” you admitted, “What about you?”

“Get my job back at the cab company.”

“What if we never see eachother again?” you thought out loud.

Joe turned his head to look at you, “We would if you moved to San Francisco.”

You huffed a laugh, “And where would I live in San Fran?”

Joe bit his lip, “You could live with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Joe huffed, turning away from you, “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal.”

You rolled your eyes and tugged him back to look at you, before you could lose your nerve you planted a kiss on his lips. “I’d love to. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Joe smiled, pulling you back so he could kiss you again.

****

A/N- This was hell to write, let me just tell you. I have no idea how to write cheesy fluffy things so I hope this is good enough for you. Thanks for reading xxx

[appreciatetheunderappreciated]

Hi, love your blog it's awesome, could you do a preference for the BoB guys on them falling for a nurse or Women's Air Corps member and asking them to marry them, please and thank you.

BoB Falling for a Nurse: 

Bill Guarnere: Bill would have been so overprotective of you right from the beginning of the war and he would constantly be taking care of you. If he ever thought things during the war were beginning to take a toll on you, like if you couldn’t help save someone and beat yourself up over it, he would be the first person by your side comforting you. You two would always be joking around together and it would be obvious that you guys cared for each other, he would always tell you that when the war is over he would take you to the Philadelphia Zoo for your first official date because awwwwww little baby. When he gets hurt though you would immediately become overprotective of him and you wouldn’t want anyone else near him because you would just need to make sure he was okay, also because you wanted to make sure he gets away safely. He wouldn’t want you to see him though because he didn’t want you to worry about him but you wouldn’t leave and would probably be in tears while holding his hand, he would reassure you that he would be there for your first date which would bring a small smile to your face.

Eugene Roe: He would know better than anyone else the stresses and hardships of being a nurse. I mean, we all saw how he was with Renee. If you ever lost it after not being able to save someone he would try to comfort you, even if this meant just sitting next to you in silence. You two would always have each others backs. Also, you would have to chase him around all the time to make sure he’s okay and to make sure he’s eating enough and sleeping enough, he would do the same for you. It’s safe to say that you guys would be a really great duo together, except when he would want to borrow your scissors and you would say no because I mean lets face it, he’s so cute when he’s angry/ sassy. You two would share a foxhole and even though he was freezing he would wait until you fall asleep before draping his jacket over you to make sure that you stay warm.

Buck Compton: Once he sees Toye and Guarnere on the ground after the bomb shell went off next to them he would be so just not okay. You would follow him to the small medic station, refusing to leave his side. At first he wouldn’t talk to you because he didn’t even talk to Malarkey when he went there to visit him but you would always bring him whatever you thought he would need/ want like any extra Hershey bars, blankets, etc. He would start to open up to you after a while and before he leaves he would confess his feelings for you and he would thank you for always being there for him through his hardest times. He would promise you that he would come back for you someday.

Warren Muck: Okay so personally, I think you and Muck would be best friends. This is only because he’s pretty much in love with Faye and he’s running out of people to talk to about her. When he realizes that you’re willing to listen he never leaves your side and this begins his long journey of talk about his sweet love and the long journey of your friendship. He would also ask you if you thought any of the guys were cute and he would try to set you up with them. When the two of you actually go off to war and you have to be more serious about your nursing duties, he would not talk about Faye as much as he used to but late at night in your foxholes you would secretly love it when he brought her up because it would take you back to the days at training which was really comforting to you. Whenever you were stressing out, he would try to joke around with you because he would just want to see a smile on your face. If that didn’t make you feel better he would find whatever food he could and attempt to cook it for you before he sat besides you in silence and made sure you ate. You would probably be close by when the bombshell hit his foxhole and you would be emotionally unstable because he was your absolute best friend and he was with you since the beginning so living without him was going to be hard and you’re a nurse so all you wanted to do was make sure everyone was okay. I believe this would tighten your bonds with Malarkey however because you both lost him.

Donald Malarkey: He pretty much loses all of his friends and I feel like you would want to help him because that’s your job but you just wouldn’t know how and you wouldn’t want to be overbearing so you would kind of just watch him from a distance to make sure that he was okay. At night you would walk over to his foxhole and you would ask him how he’s feeling even though you know the answer already. This would lead to you guys talking all night and it would take his mind off of things and make him feel better. Also, you guys would talk about all of the times you spent with Skip which would make you both start laughing a little before probably crying again. You two would be pretty much inseparable after that and would always be together. After the war is over and Winters talks to him about leaving you would be so upset because it’ll be the first time that the two of you are apart since Skip and you wouldn’t know what to do if you lost Malarkey too but he would promise you that he would find you one day.

Carwood Lipton: Right from the start you and Lipton would get along. You two are the glue that holds together Easy company, especially during their hardest struggles. He would admire you for how much you care about the men and how you would do anything to help them. I feel like he would always have a little crush on you but would never admit it because he wouldn’t want anyone to know and because he wouldn’t want you to get weird around him. When you fix up his cheekbone from his shrapnel wounds you would try to be really gentle with him, trying not to hurt him further and he would just glance up at with a little smile on his face. This would make you blush a little bit and you would ask him what he’s looking at but he would just shake his head a little bit and not say anything. I guess it would be pretty obvious to others that the two of you liked each other but you guys were oblivious to it.

George Luz: He would flirt with you endlessly but you would return his actions and flirt with him right back. At the same time though you guys would always be joking around with each other. You two would never be apart from each other and would most likely never be mad at one another because you just have so much in common. He would be lowkey protective over you. He knows that you can handle being a nurse but he just cares about you so much and he knows that if there is ever something bothering you, you would keep it to yourself because you wouldn’t want to annoy anyone else. Even though you two joke around all the time, he knows when he would have to be serious around you. This would usually only be if you were in a bad mood though. He would stay up late talking to you and anytime their was bomb shell droppings in Bastogne he would pull you down into a foxhole and hold you so close to him that it hurt.

Frank Perconte: Thank you to @lovingunderratedcharacters for helping me with some background of Perconte! Okay so he was one of the first four soldier that were assigned to Easy so this would have been the first time you guys meet. He would be confused at first as to why there’s a girl there but he would take this opportunity to talk to you before more people were assigned to the company. You two would get to talking before realizing that you have so much in common. After this you guys would always be next to each other. He would get really pissy when another guy would flirt with you and he didn’t understand why at first but when you flirted back with them then he would realize that you were never just a friend to him and that he’s always had stronger feelings for you. He would avoid you a little bit because he didn’t want to admit that he had feelings for you, he thought it would jeopardize your relationship. You would confront him though about how he’s been ignoring you and there would probably be a small argument between the two of you. This would lead to him blurting out that he likes you and you would just smile a little bit because you like him too.

Joe Liebgott: Joe would give you so many problems. He would constantly remind you of how the war is no place for a lady and he would be constantly told by the guys to shut up anytime he opened his mouth about you. Further in the war when someone you are close to is killed and you tried everything you could to save them you would kind of just sit there holding back tears because the last thing you want is for all of the guys to see you crying over someone. Joe would probably make a remark about how the person could have lived if it was Doc Roe or someone else trying to save them. This would kind of just push you to the edge and you would most likely be in his face screaming about how you’re sick of him and how rude he is. Little do you know, your little moment of screaming made him fall for you and he was crazy for thinking that you were just another girl. Later that night in your foxhole you would be kind of dozing off before you heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Lieb standing above you. He would just look at you for a minute and would sit down besides you, ignoring you when you yelled at him to go away. For a couple of minutes he would sit there in silence before gathering his courage to apologize. After this night though he would be making sure you’re okay, not through you directly but through the other guys. Whenever you helped someone he would watch you in awe before just smiling to himself.

Joe Toye: So Joe is like a big tough guy but he would have a giant weak spot for you. If you were nervous about jumping from the plane he would reassure you that you would be okay and that he would find you when you get to the bottom. This, of course, he does. On the way down he didn’t take his eyes off of you and right when he hit the ground he ran to wherever you were to make sure you were okay. He wouldn’t leave your side once but when he and Guarnere are hit you almost lose it and you would have lost it if it weren’t for Toye telling you, like always, that you were going to be okay.

I’m sorry I left some people out, I think it was only Speirs but I was really excited to publish this :) 

[deanmiles13]

AND THE AWARD GOES TO... My time on Hollywoods dime.

The Musicians Wanted ad in the back of The Rocket read: 

Guitarist looking to join up with like minded individuals. Influences include Iggy and The Stooges, Sonic Youth, and The Cramps. 

That was all I needed to see. This had to be my guy. I was looking for musicians, having just left Rancid Vat and Alcoholics Unanimous. 

AT SMEGMA STUDIOS WITH RANCID VAT 1992

My own project, for the 1st time. 

Actually, I had another “project band” in Tucson called Butchers 4 Piece. 

I wanted to start a “Dirge” band. Pre “Grunge” The Melvins were pretty much as heavy as you could get. B4P was my need to play heavy guitar and write with my best buddy Abel. We picked on every clique in the scene with the lyrics. 

Having heard the Melvins on tour in 87’, I was blown away. We were in Riverside CA with a band called Twisted. 

The band I was in, Opinion Zero from Tucson, was gonna be on Alchemy Records, which is the label the Melvins 1st album was on.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mascara_Snake

 SO, these Twisted fellas say… “Hey, you ever heard of these dudes, The Melvins?” 

“Uh…. NO. What kinda name is The MELVINS!!!” 

The sound that came out was a methed out, metal riffing, band that stopped on a dime and then went into a heroin paced dirge that was heavier than Black Sabbath.

I loved it!!! 

Song titles likeThe Heaviness of the Load, Big as a Mountain, Over From Under the Excrement. Man!!!

Anyway… 

I was hoping to get back to doing a HEAVY band again and this ad just spoke to me. The Rocket was a Seattle-Portland Rock magazine, in newsprint form. 

It was the Bible for what was happening throughout each month in Seattle and Portland. Feature articles on local musicians and all the club listings and personal ads! It was priceless, in that sweet spot we had going in the 90’s. 

I get on the old land line phone and end up gettin a hold of this “Jerry” guy and we make plans for him to come over with his guitar to jam. The day comes, he shows up with his guitar, amp and a 6 pack.

We set up in the attic at 27 N. Thompson, where I was living. We make small talk and then I’m propose…

“Lets play a Cramps song!!!” 

I can see this makes him a slightly uncomfortable and he shifts in his seat and says 

“Which one?” 

“Anyone!” I replied. 

He starts to play Goo Goo Muck or Human Fly, and it’s not really all there. Already, I can see the ad was more of a description of bands he was INTO and not really his ability level or influences. 

No worries… 

We jam a bit more, and in my mind, I figure I’ll just keep on looking. After wrapping up our best attempts at a jam, we talk some more. 

Little did I know that I would be spending more time with this guy, inside of a van, than ANY band I have EVER been in.

 He starts by telling me he is from Portland (Salem actually) and had moved to L.A. for a bit and was just getting back to Portland. He played with a band called Trashcan School, a band I knew of and had read about. 

JERRY LA BUCK AND HIS FIRST BORN.

I was impressed!!! 

I asked what he did for work, he said he ran a security company in L.A. 

He told me, mainly set security for movies. 

Now, this IS “Hollywood” and his resume had titles like, oh…

Chopper Chicks From Zombietown

 https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0103959/

Your usual B list movies, I thought, but he explained that movies worked under working titles sometimes to keep people off the scent. You couldn’t say “Yeah, we are filming Rocky 8 but keep it under your lid!” Although that would have been good….

So this all sounded pretty interesting to my ear.

Myself, I had done security before and had actually recently been fired from my job of 3 years. It was my first job in Portland and it’s where I learned Screen Printing. 

My profession, basically. 

It was at Goldsmiths in Old Town on 5th and Burnside.

https://goldsmithcompany.com/our-story/

Anyway, I got fired from there. Can you believe it? 

ON a side note… 

One day I got a call right after this, and it was the daughter of one of the older Vietnamese women that I worked with. She was old school and spoke no english. 

Mooey!!! 

That’s was her name…. 

I loved all 4’5” of her. Such a lovely woman. 

So her daughter called the house one day and it sounds like someone on tour or something.

A foreign voice and kind of broken up, and we are speaking over each other… 

I can’t really think of who I know on tour in Japan. 

It’s Mooey, having her daughter translate to me that she misses me at work and can’t believe they fired me. She said she loved me and I was a good guy. 

Man, I will never forget that phone call EVER.  I tried real hard to learn what I could while I worked with that crew of Vietnamese. What I learned was, that you can come to America after being lost on the ocean for 3 weeks on a raft, and end up owning 3 homes and a small market. That’s just one of the many incredible things I learned. 

Inspiring/Respect

Back to Jerry…. 

He said he wanted to do something similar up here with the movies and security thing. 

He had a few connections with location managers, but what he really needed was security team. 

He had been doing most of all this work by himself. A lot of this was just sitting in a car and watching a trailer or some prop on set. But still, that could be hard work. And he needed help. So, I threw my hat in the ring and said let me know if you end up getting a movie.

 Right away, he had a gig. 

And it was big. 

I wanna say, a 3 month shoot?

Almost all of it being shot in Portland. 

Timothy Hutton, Faye Dunaway, and Murdock from the A-Team were the main actors he said. 

I had no car at the time and Jerry had a 65 Dodge Dart we called the Clam. 

The trunk didn’t latch and had been connected with bungee cords. Every single bump in the road, that thing would start bouncing up and down. It looked like it was talking to you. 

Man, we had barricades and cones and all sorts of stuff in that car.

We had to block off parking spots and various roads at certain hours for shoots. 

(To annoy a Portland that WAS NOT Hollywood friendly)- Pre Portlandia. 

“Go back to California!!!” was the most common one you were guaranteed to hear. 

We had half of Downtown ready to kill us one afternoon. The shot never even made the final cut. 

Another incident we had all lanes of the Marquam Bridge blocked on a Friday morning, at rush hour, just to get a helicopter shot. 4 TIMES AROUND!!!! There was one guy who followed us to the off ramp, down to Old Spaghetti Factory. 

Pretty scary!!! 

I mean SCARY, like when we had to move all the big wigs out of their personal apartments. 

We found dildos, handcuffs and all sorts of stuff. All the crap they were definitely not taking home. 

There were many things I can recall from those long days on my feet, but I’ll just throw a couple at you.

Towards the end of the shoot one day, Timothy Hutton had a tape he wanted the Make Up guys to play. 

It was a tape of prank phone calls. 

The Jerky Boys. 

First time most people had heard that stuff at that point.

Speaking of Make Up, I witnessed nothing short of miracles come out of those Make Up  trailers. 

The magic they can do with the human face.

Speaking of magic and faces… 

I ended up gettin some face time with Faye Dunaway.

I had my Barfly book, by Bukowski, with me and had an angle to get it signed by the time she was done. 

On the last day, it was the day to do it. 

I asked her P.A. and she shut me down. 

NO WAY. 

Well, this WAS her last day and Faye seemed in a really good mood. 

As she was leaving, Some people were  getting autographs. I wasn’t too much concerned how we looked as a security team, as I was a fan and wanted MY book signed. 

I put it in the mix of outreached hand and she looked at it with a surprised expression. 

She said she had not seen this. NICE… 

I had the page marked and she thumbed her way towards it, stopping to remark on certain pictures and relate little stories. Everyone was enraptured and I was the hero.

Man, was her P.A. fuming by this time. 

Faye signed it and handed it back to me with that smile. 

NO WIRE HANGERS!!!

I shrunk off a little awkward but victorious.

I ended up working one last movie with Jerry and Buckeye Security. 

This one was awesome. 

It was…  Even Cowgirls Get The Blues.

From Wiki:

According to film critic/historian Leonard Maltin, "The novel was hopelessly dated, and there is not enough peyote in the entire American Southwest to render this movie comprehensible or endurable...K.D. Lang's score is the picture's sole worthy component.”

Directed by Gus Van Sant. 

A legend in Portland. 

Whole slew of stars in this one. Uma Thurman, Keanu Reeves, Crispin Glover et al. 

Totally different vibe on this movie. 

With Gus, you had a more laid back, punk rock, “we are all in this together” feel. 

Most actors made themselves available to chat up and get to know. 

This set was SO laid back, I remember Gus had some Nitrous Oxide delivered to the Camera Truck for the purpose of “cleaning lenses” he said. 

Well, as soon as they gave a brief rundown of the how’s and what not’s, we all made a B line to get a hit from the tit. 

It was pretty sweet. 

It ended up at his house later that night, I heard, for his NO on 9 benefit party. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_Oregon_Ballot_Measure_9

  The wrap party itself was pretty cool, because Tom Robbins the author of Cowgirls showed up to the tiny little bar they had rented. 

The premier that afternoon, was a trip as well. It was the first showing ever and in the opening credits he had JUST ADDED a dedication to River Phoenix. 

River was in Gus’s “Private Idaho” and was also in Cowgirls. 

Pretty sad day. 

There were a lot of actors in this film that made cameos and also just NW legend types. 

We had hired a kid to help us on security and he told us he was the son of Ken Babbs. 

His name was Simon Babbs, and he was a total sweetheart. 

His father was joined at the hip with Ken Kesey and these cats were the real deal when it came to being there on the edge of counter culture. 

They practiced what they preached, and also I wanted some of the sacred sacrament. 

This was the guy who turned the nation on as far as I’m concerned and punks is hippies.

Well… I put my request in via the son of the gun who road shotgun with Kesey. 

It came through. Nice stuff. 

Years later, I would end up on the Further Bus with Ken Kesey’s son, buying sheets of acid art (non electrified!), but that’s another story.

ON BOARD FURTHR2 WITH ZANE KESEY 

We also had a dude on our crew that was training to be a fire fighter. 

He and his lady had recently split and he was moping around, being a sad sack. 

This really got to him and his good friend could really notice his mood changes etc. 

He actually felt sorry for this hard working kid and saw his determination to be a fire fighter, to train all day and then come and do this stupid job. 

So this friend put pen to paper. 

He told Aaron’s girl that she was really missing out on a good guy and that if she maybe just gave it another shot, who knows?!?! 

I watched this whole thing go down. I then watched him give Aaron the note, to give to his uncertain lover. 

And that “friend” of his was none other than Keanu Reeves. 

That guy was so down to earth and a genuine, righteous dude. 

I don’t know if this whole thing worked for the girl or not, but I sure know it worked for me. 

It was one of the coolest things I’ve seen. 

Really…. From Bill and Ted to Rivers Edge, that guy may come off like a “HImbo”, but I saw just the opposite. Totally aware and compassionate person.

I would like to thank Jerry for letting me make mad money while getting to zip up Sean Young’s dress when she couldn’t reach it. 

For being able to help Crispin Glover get in character. 

He had asked me for a cigarette and I told him “I don’t smoke! I don’t have any cigarettes.” 

He said “Neither do I.” and walked away. 

It was totally Crispin Glover. 

CRISIN GLOVER AUTOGRAPH.

He later walked past me holding a cigarette very awkward and asked me how to hold one. Weird dude for sure.

And, thanks Jerry Sandifer for putting that ad in the Rocket. 

If you hadn’t we would have never met and I would have never met Ken Stevenson. 

It’s this connection that brought my wife and I together. Ken would come to mean so much to me in my life and would later marry me and Darcy. 

Jerry and I would eventually live together for a while, 

THIS IS ME PLAYING JERRY’S GUITAR (WHICH I OWN) PLUS THIS IS AT THE HOUSE WE LIVED IN TOGETHER ON SHERMAN ST. IN BETWEEN CHRIS TENSE FROM POISON IDEA AND THE BLOODMEN HOUSE.

We would also play music in a Halloween themed cover band called the Punkins. So, I guess the ad did work… Just took us a while.

Kind of a full circle thing… 

Friends for life my brother.

[ashnadir]

freddiewatts:

Freddie stiffened slightly at the mention of suffering, sitting up a little straighter and turning his head, keeping his blue eyes trained calmly on his friend. Curious as to where Iann was going, and more than prepared to defend his husband if he had to - as, where Faye Andrews was concerned, Freddie’s patience for explanations of good intentions and lack of understanding had long since run out.

But, of course, this was Iann he was speaking to, and as such, Iann’s thoughts on the subject were very much more… dispassionate than all that. And Freddie found that he agreed to a certain extent, feeling that Faye had proven herself time and again to be incapable of the sort of care that Ephram had hoped for when she’d promised to be a sister to him. But try as he might, the fairy was completely unable to see where and how Ephram might have let Faye down in return. 

He was aware of his bias - and aware that that bias meant he would forever be accused of acting blindly, nothing more than Ephram’s knee-jerk ‘white knight’ - but to Freddie, the facts spoke for themselves. Ephram had loved Faye, cared for her, supported her - and done the same for her daughter. He had been a consistent loving presence in their lives, and in return, he’d been brutalised and betrayed. More than once.

Obviously, it was true that Ephram had expected too much of the ‘sister’ he’d found - and he would bear the scars of those expectations for the rest of his life - but unless an unwillingness to absolve Faye absolutely of any and all responsibility for whatever she might choose to visit upon him could be counted as a failure to her, Freddie just didn’t see a two-way street.

Especially since she had eventually been granted the forgiveness she felt that she so richly deserved, anyway. To what the fairy knew to be his husband’s continued detriment.

But Freddie wasn’t going to waste his time, and Iann’s, debating it. Firstly, because it was all very personal and messy, and Iann would likely rather scoop his own eyes out with a spoon than have to pretend to be invested in any of it; and secondly, selfishly, because Freddie had no desire to argue with the man beside him. This wasn’t the sort of subject that leant itself well to ‘tomayto, tomahto’.

There was no grey area for Freddie here - and he wasn’t sure Iann ever dealt in black and white.

(After all, he himself certainly never had until he’d fallen in love with Ephram Pettaline.)

“Iann, darling,” Freddie said, just as airily, “-considering that I see a world of difference between that woman’s self-inflicted, attention-seeking, Martyrdom-of-Saint-Faye suffering, and what my husband believes to be his rightful punishment at the hands of the Almighty, perhaps we’d better leave the entire topic well enough alone, yeah?” 

The fairy shot his friend a bit of a smile. “I mean, haven’t we mucked about with enough emotion tonight?”

“And besides,” he went on, his smile ratcheting up into a smirk, “-as you said, we were talking about you any road.”

“So I suppose I can see your point with all that suicide business,” Freddie murmured, still sipping his boozy little sugar-bomb of a coffee. “Though I do feel the need to point out that if you turn and your old man’s only got one good century or so left in him anyway, it’s you who’ll be wiping up spittle and spoon-feeding him plasma for the duration.”

“I mean, I see it to a certain extent at least, because Ephram and I have had similar conversations ourselves before. Mostly in terms of any sort of ‘noble sacrifice’ rubbish - but it translates the same, really.” 

“I would never want him to give his life for me, nor would he want me to do it for him, because ultimately we’d both be left miserable without each other. It’s a fallacy straight from the start.”

“And if I’m honest, I suppose I have to admit that we did have a bit of a suicide pact of our own at one point, so I can’t very well throw stones at you and the Queen Mum now…”

Freddie was surprised to hear that Iann had yet to really consider anything fae as a possible means to his end though. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Given the way we age, what you know fairy dust to be capable of, what you’ve seen sugarplums - and our little one -” he touched his stomach with a wry sort of a grin, “-do; not to mention the fact that the key ingredient to Martin’s stopping of his own clock was a diamond that I had to incubate for twenty-odd years, you’ve seriously not given any thought to fae magic?” Freddie smirked, “Iann Cardero, I think I’m genuinely disappointed in you.”

And he waved off the Blackwater coven. “Oh, it all goes back to David Johnson and that witch he kidnapped. I happened to be there when her son was recovered, so they think they owe me - as well as Ephram and Elizabeth - something on her behalf. I’ve a card at home somewhere that’ll get their attention if I add a drop of my blood to it - though, having seen what some witches can do with a bit of blood, I think I’d prefer to knock on their door, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I mean, they never said exactly what sort of a favour they were willing to provide, but I’d imagine there’s a bit of wiggle room there, dependent on what I might need.”

Freddie watched Iann fondly as the other man murmured all their various smush name options to himself, seeming progressively more pleased with ‘Friann’, and then grinned broadly when his friend seized on ‘Stonefruit Inn’ as the name of their soon-to-be erected hotel. “You did all the heavy-lifting there, love,” the fairy laughed, “But that’s perfect - Stonefruit Inn it is.”

“And you can order 25 horrible caps, yeah?” he added, still chuckling, “Any more than that floating around and we’ll be forced to lower our price points and actively consider a children’s menu.”

Iann resisted rolling his eyes at the mention of Pettaline’s black hills snake-handling zealotry; but in the end, Freddie was right.  So Iann smirked and waggled a finger at Freddie.  “I like when you call me ‘darling’ and you totally don’t mean it.  That’s my favourite,” he decided. 

He shook his head,  “No way, man.  Why would I bother with life once he reaches his expiry date?  The moment Tuah starts getting moldy, I’ll get his daylight charm off and shove him into the sunlight.  And then I’ll off myself.  Done and squared away.”  He looked smug when Freddie confessed the same sort of pact drawn up for himself and his spouse-person.  

“Well there you go.  It’s not my fault that he’s long-lived and I’m not.  I’m thinking pragmatically here.” Maybe the only difference was that Iann did want Tuah to give his life up for him.  On the understanding that if the situation was reversed, Iann would do the same.  

Okay, also the second difference: Anaxis.

“You know I think it’s more important to plan what Pettaline should and would do if...”  Iann tapped his lips, then waved a hand.  “You know what?  Never mind.  That’s a discussion for another day.”

He wagged his head this way and that, conceding about the fairy magic consideration.  “I’ll be honest, Freddie, I haven’t given it that much thought other than the idle ‘oh yeah, that’ every now and again,” Iann confessed.  And if one knew Iann and thought about it, in a sick and sad way it made sense.  Iann rarely took the time to thoughtfully troubleshoot his own problems, not when he was so busy diving head-first into other people’s lives and needs.  Likely if he felt Faye and Fane’s similar conundrum was his business (it wasn’t, so Iann stayed away), then Iann might have searched all possibilities, including fae magic.

But, it was about him, so.  Backburner, until the last minute.  That suited Iann’s way of dealing with himself the most.

He listened with curiousity about the Blackwater Coven, the drop of blood thing ringing a bell.  “Right! I remember that, the calling card that no one wants to use,”  Iann started to chuckle.  “That’s kind of a great strategy don’t you think?  No one will ever share a drop of their blood to call on them, but the Coven still gets to look like they’re ready to pay a favour back.”  Iann mimed dusting his hands.  “That’s tidy.”

He was pleased that Freddie also agreed on Stonefruit Inn, and Iann took Freddie’s hand to shake on it.  “Oye, remember - we’re sticking to mid-range, hm?  And what’s mid-range - families...”  Iann grinned.  “This ain’t the Danforth, buddy.  Kid’s menus are a great idea.”  Because of course Iann was imagining that staff would be handling little humans and their germs and jam-hands, not him.

planning