Band of Brothers Week: Day 4: Funny Moment

“What’s the god damn hold up Mr. Sobel?”

All pictures were found on Google

the way im going insane over Sobel and I'm genuinely making 3 fics for him x my oc is FUCKING CRAZY

man saying he likes spaghetti 😔

Ok this was really quick, i simplified the background since i kinda suck at it-

😗 is this a lie?

Band of Brothers Asks!

I couldn’t find a list of questions like this so I thought I’d make one:

What is your favorite episode?

What is your least favorite episode?

Which episode wrecks your emotions the most?

Which character do you relate to the most?

Who is your favorite character?

Who is your least favorite character?

How did you first find out about the show?

When did you first watch the show?

Which actor in the show is most suited for their role?

Do you have a favorite Band of Brothers fic? If so, could you link it?

Which characters death hit you the hardest?

Which aspect of the show shocked you the most when you found out it wasn’t true?

Have you read any of the books the real life people wrote about their time in Easy company? If so, which ones?

Is there a part in the show you always skip?

Do you have a comfort character?

Which character do you think deserves more love?

Be honest: what do you think of Sobel?

What’s a character you used to like but don’t anymore?

Which character would you let babysit? (Pets or humans)

Which storyline do you like the most?

Who was your favorite side character?

What is your favorite quote from the show?

Do you prefer watching it via dvd, streaming service, or another method?

Which character would you want to be your best friend?

Favorite friend pair in the show?

Have you watched the show multiple times? If so, how many?

Do you have any merchandise related to the show?

If you had a child, who would you let date them?

Sobel was the classic chickenshit. He generated maximum anxiety over matters of minimum significance. Paul Fussell, in his book Wartime, has the best definition: "Chickenshit refers to behavior that makes military life worse than it need be: petty harassment of the weak by the strong; open scrimmage for power and authority and prestige; sadism thinly disguised as necessary discipline; a constant 'paying off of old scores'; and insistence on the letter rather than the spirit of ordinances. Chickenshit is so called - instead of horse- or bull- or elephant shit - because it is small-minded and ignoble and takes the trivial seriously.

Band of Brothers, Stephen Ambrose

Just Hold Him (Lipton x Speirs)

Title: Just Hold Him (Part 1 of 2) - (Part 2 here) Ship: Lipton x Speirs Summary: When snow reminds Lipton of what he's lost, what he's witnessed... Grief pierced him through the heart with an icicle shard. Themes: Grief, Hurt-Comfort Author Note: Since when has there been a character limit on tumblr? I gotta post this in two parts now. What the sobel crap is this!?

Since being back from the war, Lipton kept himself busy. Helping his Mom out with the Boarding House, getting his own apartment closer to the college that he had been accepted into to finish his education, school work… and when he had free time, he always found something to do. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. If he stopped…he started thinking…and he just couldn’t sit around and mope. Had to keep himself busy and distracted. Perhaps the Sergeant – or Lieutenant, rather – in him, also made him feel like he should be doing something useful. People tend to bring the war home…and Lipton certainly did that. Perhaps not in the means of trauma and PTSD… but things that were drilled into him either during Bootcamp, Training, being a soldier in general... Things such as how he makes the bed…and it gets done every morning. No excuses. How he folds his socks. Even waking up 10 minutes before 6am. Granted he didn’t have to haul his ass out of bed, but he still wakes up like his body clock is still in Toccoa. These wintry months were slightly different… Ron was on leave for a few weeks, therefore he was home. Which meant those early mornings weren’t spent alone, in bed. It was almost humorous the first morning… Lipton was excited to wake up and be the first to look over at Ron, sleeping. Only for his hazel eyes to meet another set of hazel eyes. “Oh. Hi.” Speirs couldn’t help the little sleepy laugh that crept out at Lipton’s disappointed response. Lipton’s eyes quickly danced over Ron’s softly laughing features, drinking in that beautiful sight. If it’s one thing he loves about Ron…it’s when he smiles. “You sound disappointed to see me, Carwood.” “No..Not at all.” Lipton turned the rest of his body around so he was fully facing Ron. He pressed his semi-hardened erection against Ron, causing the brunette’s brows to shoot up, smile turning into a small smirk, hazel eyes softening into a mixed gaze of lustful mischievousness and just general love for Lipton. “Definitely not at all.” Lipton muttered as his neck craned up to press a kiss on the corner of Ron’s lips, only for Ron to catch his lips and pull him into a deeper kiss…. This is what Lipton should be thinking about when he stopped moving, stopped finding ways to distract himself… But no… He had just finished putting a few products away that he was using to fix some squeaking hinges, when he walked out into the open living area and just stared out the window. The bright light of…white… caught his attention. And he found himself staring at the snow-fall. It’s been, what? Almost two years? But the snow has a tendency to pull him right back. The snow will never match the coldness of what they felt in Bastogne, but the same white residue can bring back a flood of memories. The sound of shells going off, shells dropping and exploding the trees, grounds, foxholes… The sound of Luz’s voice in his ear screaming to be heard that Muck and Penkala got hit. Ron had just turned the corner to make a start on dinner when he stopped and watched the man he loves just stare off. Something Lipton doesn’t do. Immediately, the odd behavior was something Ron picked up on. He followed Lipton’s gaze and could only see nothing but snow and – snow. Ron was smart. Observant. Particularly with Lipton. “Carwood?” He gently called out, not making any movement to avoid startling the man. But he got no response. Dark hazel eyes looked around quickly for an answer on how to deal with this situation… this was more Lipton’s department than it was Rons… but Lipton was the one needing the softer approach… “Carwood…?” Speirs started again…this time carefully stepping closer. A mistake, perhaps, in keeping his footfalls on the quieter side as he cautiously walked up to the man who was staring off. The haunted look of war physically evident over his features.

WAIT I didn't realize you reblogged this so I'm probably hella late, but 🗑️ and 🤠 for the ask game? 🤗

🗑️ Share an excerpt where a character is up to some embarrassing, unflattering, or mildly unsavory nonsense.

We’re gonna go with something from WAFH for this 🤭

“Swear to God I’m gonna shove my fist so far down that guy’s throat he’s gonna taste my fuckin’ armpit hairs.” Paulina declares, stabbing at the slab of meatloaf on her plate with a certain ferocity to it. Next to her, Dot snickers and grins.

“So is that supposed to be Toye or Captain B?” she gestures with her own fork. Paulina stops stabbing at her food to shoot the girl next to her a grin.

“Flip a coin and take your pick, Dot. They’ll all get what’s comin’ to ‘em.”

Don’t know if this counts but … unsavory in the literal way of girl please stop stabbing ur military grade meatloaf and also unsavory in the “scheming against someone Paulina doesn’t like” way. Also one of my favorite lines of hers.

🤠 ”Spoil” the ending of your WIP using only memes.

SBT spoilers and yet a staple meme on this account, I am now presenting:

That is all.

from this ask!

What Your Favorite Band of Brothers character says about you (revamped and based on personal experiences)

Winters- You’re either a pretty level headed person or your life is in complete shambles and you find comfort in characters that know how to handle stress.

Nixon- You love a good self destructive character and more than likely see yourself in them. Also, how is your undiagnosed mental illness treating u lately?

Lipton- You just want to be held and cared for so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

Speirs- You most DEFINITELY read wattpad stories as a kid. The mafia kind. You’re also unnecessarily horny on the internet and probably say he’s “Lana-coded.”

Roe- You love a good tragic and tortured character, I’ll give you that. You also listen to boygenius and love religious imagery.

Babe- I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re on some type of lgbt or autism spectrum.

Liebgott- You have a really weird self-confidence complex and read a LOT of enemies to lovers. I’m lowkey scared of you even though you’ve probably never hit anyone in your life.

Webster- You’re an artist at heart and view the world in a way that might set you apart from your peers. You can never and will never tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. Also you call grown men “babygirl.”

Guarnere- You have TERRIBLE taste in men and can never tell the difference between being mean or flirting.

Toye- Ditto ^ but also may I add you probably have a thing for people in uniform.

Buck- You are a very simple person. You like everything to just be kind of normal and calm all of the time. Sometimes you dip your toes in the water, but it’s more of a once a year kind of thing. Your favorite superhero as a kid was Captain America.

Luz- You are just cool. Very Ferris Beuller, Bill and Ted, Matthew Lillard kind of cool. You’re also probably transmasc or into guys to some degree.

Shifty- You’re either one of those “omg smol bean” people or you just love a good ray of sunshine kind of character. Your favorite pony as a kid was probably Fluttershy.

Malarkey- I’m so deeply upset just looking into your eyes dawg you need to take a nap and book a therapy session. Not a single one of you guys is completely and totally stable.

Renee- You so desperately wanted this show to pass the bechdel test and wished more women were included in the production. You’re also into women.

Perconte- You’re either really cool or you’re really annoying. No inbetween.

Bull- You really liked the SNL “Big Boy” skit with SZA

Muck- You want to be the funny friend so bad and you’re still not sure if you’ve earned that title yet. Mad respect though bc I know ur ass has seen supernatural in full. More than once.

Welsh, Penkala, Spina, Talbert, Grant, Martin, Penkala, Hoobler, Skinny- Either you’re lying to be different or you genuinely love a good underrated background character.

Blithe- Mm you’re lying lol

Sobel- Hey, girl! What the fuck!

things better left unsaid. (dick winters x nurse! reader)

summary: you find out that perhaps war is not the best time for romance. (written as two letters from the two of you)

word count: 1650+

warnings: sappiness, angst of the pining variety, breakup(?), and ofc mentions of war

notes: any feedback would be appreciated 🫶, also inspired by @currahee's post about dick's "completely platonic" female penpal. since i've never read the letters between him and that woman myself, i took one line and ran with it

Letters written two days before D-Day. Though they were never meant to, both letters accidentally, and in no way aided by nurses and Easy Company men (specifically a man named Lewis Nixon) alike, make their way to their receiver.

Dear Dick,

I still remember the day you came into the base's hospital, looking for one of your men who’d been injured during a field exercise. You had made it difficult to pay attention to the soldier I was treating, asking like a concerned father if he would be alright. Not to mention your flaming red hair out of the corner of my eye.

Noting stupidly in the back of my mind the entrancing blue-green shade of your eyes, I had smiled and told you he would make a quick recovery. You’d returned my smile and said you'd be back to check on him. Like some silly schoolgirl, I had secretly looked forward to the return of this tall, attractive man.

Over the course of your several returns, we’d talked about ourselves while your private slept. Our easy conversations concerned simple topics, like where we came from, what we did before the war, and what we would do after it was over—though the fighting had yet to truly begin for us. There was a rumor going around base that you were a Quaker; lucky me, I found out you weren't before everyone else did.

There weren't many injuries at that time, and I guess you'd decided to stick around to watch your soldier recover. I was grateful for your company, as you were unlike a lot of the men I had encountered working here: flirty, overconfident, vulgar, you know the like. You were reserved and gentlemanly, with a small smile that I could tell you didn't show many others and a dry sense of humor. I suppose your humble beginnings in Pennsylvania had shaped you into a humble man.

Even after your soldier was released from the hospital, you came to visit me. I wasn’t sure why, and still am not today. You were a busy man after all—why spend time with a random, dime-a-dozen nurse? I wasn't complaining, though; like the fool I am, I had already began catching feelings for you, which I was sure were unreciprocated. You were probably just being respectful, I reasoned when I found my mind was full of thoughts of you, someone so upstanding wouldn't risk a relationship in times like these. If only I knew I was right. I wouldn't have bothered staying up at night overthinking every little thing you did.

During your free time, you would help me treat other patients, keep stock, move boxes, routine things like that. Over time your visits grew in frequency; so much so that your men had started teasing you whenever they saw you enter — sneak away to, rather — the nurse’s facility. I missed your company when you couldn't come visit, when arduous training took up too much of your time.

Fortunately for me, we started meeting while I was off-duty. Not surrounded by dozens of men, these stolen moments proved to be much more intimate. Taking walks around the base during the early morning before anyone else had risen or late at night when the base was fast-asleep was one of my favorite past times with you. You'd walk me to my small living quarters and offer me your jacket if it was cold, tell me about the seemingly universally hated Captain Sobel and how your men were doing. Sometimes our hands would brush, and I would feel my cheeks get warmer despite the biting cold. I could've sworn I saw your cheeks redden as well as your eyes snapped to our hands and just as quickly were averted.

Winter was coming to an end, and as the planned date for the Normandy invasion came closer, nerves were rising all around base. One mild evening, after a week of not being able to visit, you confided to me your concerns about the war. I boldly, brazenly, took your hands in mine and reassured you that everything would work out in the end. Holding my breath, we stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime before you tentatively leaned your head down and kissed me. That was the first time I’d ever seen you unsure of yourself. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest; what if we got caught? What would they do to us, to you, after everything you'd gone through? But at that moment, time slowed down. Nothing mattered. It was just you and me, my hands in yours, and your lips on mine.

After our kiss, your visits started becoming more sporadic, until days without you stretched into weeks of silence. Do you know how much I longed to hear your calm, steady voice during a busy day, to watch the dew on the grass in the morning with you, to feel the warmth of your presence next to me as the stars twinkled in the sky? Eventually, I resolved to pull you away somewhere private the next time I saw you and give you a piece of my mind.

And so I did. As soon as I saw your tall figure, I took you behind the hospital and confessed everything I was feeling towards you: the hurt, the bitterness, the betrayal, the love. Irritatingly composed, you firmly told me that you had no time for such frivolities in war. As the words left your lips, I felt my heart shatter into a million different pieces and settle like glass in my gut. I told you, my voice not even sounding like my own, “if that's what you want,” and I entered the hospital again.

It's been a week since then, and two days before you drop into Normandy. And though you'll never read this, I yearn ask you: is that what I was all along? Some distraction that you entertained before I had to be pushed aside? I would've waited for you to come back to me after the war, would've waited for a better time. Is this it for us?

Although it pains me to say that I still love you, it seems that some things are better left unsaid.

Sincerely, (Y/N)

-

Dear (Y/N),

It’s now two days before our drop into Normandy. Much has happened to Easy Company since Toccoa. Much has happened between you and I since we met here in England, while you were treating one of my men.

I never regarded you as a potential suitor; I couldn't do that to you. Knowing that in a few months time we would be parachuting into France, I was reluctant to develop things any further. As it stood, I had already taken an unprofessional liking to you since that day we met in the base's hospital. Our following conversations certainly did not help the matter. Starting a relationship would have jeopardized my men and myself. I had to focus on running the company, and when we got deployed, I knew having a sweetheart back somewhere safe would have fogged my mind and gotten me or someone else killed.

Yet in spite of my reservations, I got ahead of myself and began spending more and more time with you. Though it was never explicitly confirmed between the two of us, and though we never said it, many would have considered us dating. We both knew what we were doing. For a while, and with the encouragement of Nixon, I relished being with you, taking you out every morning and night, assisting you with your tasks for the day. It was nice to get away from the duty of watching over my men and focus on the person I adored.

In the spring, as the day of the invasion loomed ahead of us, things were ramping up. I couldn't see you as often as I used to or would've liked to. The day I could ended up being the day we kissed, when things changed irrevocably between us. I wasn’t acting like myself that day; I let my feelings get in the way. When I stared into your eyes, I saw a lifetime with you, and without meaning to and without much due thought, I leaned down and pressed my lips to yours. From that day on, I knew I couldn't let this continue.

I needed space from you after that, before I went careening into the uncharted territory that is romance. It pained me to avoid you, but it was for the best: I'm a ranking officer, and you're a ranking nurse. Being caught fraternizing puts us both at risk.

But more importantly, it wasn't fair to you, my men, or myself. Easy Company needs a levelheaded leader. If I were to panic in the midst of enemy fire thinking about getting back to a lover, I'd be letting them and myself down. And the thought of you receiving a letter informing you of my death is something I could never forgive myself for.

I said as much when I told you I had no time for such frivolities in war. You didn't deserve that. I'll never forget the hurt that flashed across your face. I see it every day, reflected in the morning dew on the grass and in the stars at night. In everything I used to enjoy with you.

Nixon has since convinced me to rethink my decision to break things off. Nix is a very persistent man, you could guess. I don't think two days is enough to mend what is irreparable. But I can start with a letter I'll never send, so that if the Lord allows us to meet again, I can tell you this personally:

There may not be time for frivolities in war. But when the war ends, there will be time enough for you.

Sincerely, Richard Winters

(Dick wrote about personnel changes in Easy Company during their stay in Camp Mackall in his memoir)

In addition, a number of Easy Company's officers were transferred to battalion staff, including Lewis Nixon, Clarence Hester, and George Lavenson. As I had grown quite fond of Nixon, I was sad to see him leave Easy Company. Only later on did I discover that Lieutenant Colonel Strayer had learned that Nixon was seeking a transfer to get away from Captain Sobel. After discussing the situation with Major Oliver Horton, his executive officer, the battalion commander decided to bring Nixon to staff and made him intelligence officer even though there was no Table of Organization and Equipment (TO&E) slot for a Battalion S-2. It would prove to be one of Strayer's more inspired decisions.

I remembered Dick also mentioned Strayer’s ineffectiveness in combat leadership, like during Bastogne Strayer’s orders were often unclear to Dick, so Nix would go to Regiment to get a better understanding and then come back to tell Dick, thus helped the 2nd Battalion a lot. So I can’t stop myself grinning when Dick wrote creating a pre-nonexistent S2 slot for Nix is Strayer’s “more inspired decision.”

Sobel … sobel trying to debate if he’s gay or not …

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: sexual images at the start, swearing, minor mentions of wounds, Julian and George being adorable.

Masterlist

Welcome to Hell - December 1944

His lips trailed feather-like kisses down her neck, trailing between the valley of her breast and down her stomach. Hot breath mingled between their lips as he kissed her passionately, his fingers digging into her hip bones.

“Lewis…please,” Josie's voice was hoarse and came out barely above a whisper but Lewis heard every word.

“Use your words my Darling. Tell me what you want,” Lewis growled, he could feel himself growing impatient and the urge to ravage his wife grew stronger by the minute. It had been months since they lay together and despite Lewis enjoying Josie’s company in the daytime, he couldn’t help the jealousy growing within him as he watched her laughing with Webster and Luz. As soon as he managed to drag her away from them and back to his own room, well the room he shared with Dick but Dick knew better than to come back to his room tonight.

“You’ve been teasing me all day Darlin’, how do you expect me to control myself,” he’d whined when he finally kissed his wife, tugging her lip between his teeth teasingly.

“Well Lewis, I’m sure you’ll find a way to reward yourself for such restraint,” Josie laughed, trailing her fingers across his shoulders, tugging at the lapel of his jacket.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

“Lew? Lew, come on. You’ve got to get up. Elements of the first and sixth Panzer Divisions have broken through in the Ardennes forest. We’re moving out in an hour. Come on Nix, get up!” Dick demanded, shoving Lewis causing him to nearly topple out of the bed.

“Jesus Christ Dick! What’s a man gotta do to get some sleep around here?”

“Not be in the 101st Airborne apparently,” Dick joked, throwing Lewis’ ODs at him. “Hurry up Lew.”

Lewis stomped out of his room, trailing after Dick at an increasingly slow pace, his jump boots scuffing at the tarmac as he dragged his way towards the jeep.

“This is bullshit. Why does everything seem to become the issue of the 101st? You’d think we were the only damn battalion in the whole ETO,” Lewis grumbled, glaring at Dick who sat with an amused smile on his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re so chirpy about. It’s not like we’re going on vacation.”

“No. I just find it humorous watching you complain.” Dick groaned slightly as Lewis thrust his elbow into his friend's stomach.

“You just keep laughing, Winters.”

“Nixon, may I have a word?” The matron's stern voice caused Josie to turn hastily, hurrying over in her direction.

“Yes Matron,” Josie resisted the urge to salute her, despite neither of them being in the army the Mateon ruled with an iron fist and reminded Josie of how Lewis had described Captain Sobel.

“I need to send some nurses to help at a field hospital in Bastogne, Belgium. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any nurses so I thought I could send some VADs instead. Would you be interested?”

Josie nodded and accepted the Matron's offer, not that the Matron showed any kind of enthusiasm towards the situation.

“Good, you’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow morning. Be ready to leave at 0700 sharp.”

“George, do ya think you could keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some Goddamn sleep,” Bill's voice squawked from his foxhole causing George to laugh louder.

“For fuck sake!” Bill continued to grumble but George couldn’t contain his laughter, burying his head into Julian’s neck who was spluttering, trying to contain his own giggle.

The loud crouching of boots approaching from behind them caused the pair to pull away, Julian frantically trying to straighten his jacket where George had shimmied his hands inside to keep warm.

“Captain Nixon, Sir,” they both saluted the captain but Lewis just watched them with a bemused grin. The pair sorely saluted him, managing to get away with it as Josie’s close friends so this behaviour was unusual for them.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two are up to something?” Lewis asked, sliding down opposite them in the foxhole. “You look suspicious.”

“What? Us?”

“No!”

“We’re not..”

“I mean..”

“Guys, relax. I’m just messing with you. It’s okay I know about you anyway.” Lewis relaxed, leaning his head back against the cold, icy ground.

The pair opposite him looked confused, George’s chin chattered as he went to speak. “What do you know?”

Julian’s eyes were wide and he resembled Lewis’ dog when she thought she was in trouble for something. Although most of the time Lewis never punished her for anything, he had been besotted with that dog.

“You know? I know… about you two. Josie told me everything. It’s fine,” Lewis smiled at them reassuringly but his confession did nothing to lessen their nerves.

“You know everything? But you know it’s illegal right?” George asked, leaning forward as if Lewis couldn’t hear what they were trying to tell him. “We could be shot!”

Lewis had never seen George Luz so serious and it broke his heart to realise just how worried the pair were about him finding out the truth.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Alright. I swear I won’t say a word. I’m happy for you both, I really am. You mean a lot to Josie, which means you also mean a lot to me too.” Lewis looked at the pair sincerely, reaching his hand forward to shake both their hands, cold fingers brushing against each other in a shaky handshake.

“She did what?” Julian’s face was panicked, he looked at George worriedly, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

“It’s alright. My lips are sealed,” Lewis assured them and felt as much relief as they did when the pair visibly relaxed against each other once more.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon,” Julian spoke up, his pink nose peeking out from beneath the scratchy, brown blanket he was wrapped in.

“Call me Lewis, you’re family after all.”

“I can’t believe she told him,” Julian sighed, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes ready to overflow. “I trusted her.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Don’t cry, okay? We’ll be alright. Captain Nixon is a friend after all. I’m sure it will be okay,” George tried to comfort him, pulling Julian close into his chest and wrapping them both up in the blanket.

“But what if it’s not?” Julian whimpered, his face buried further into George’s neck.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You’re stuck with me.”

Lewis’ numb feet ached as his feet connected with the frozen ground, his legs swinging in long strides as he hurried towards the aid station. Ever since he’d received Josie’s letter informing him of her move to Bastogne he’d been desperate to see her, desperate to hold her, to kiss her.

He passed two wounded soldiers by the front door, one had his arm wrapped in some dirty, grey cloth while the other had an aid kit bandage wrapped around his head. Lewis' feet echoed on the cobbled, stone floor as he marched through the church, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies for any sign of his wife.

“Lewis?” A voice called from behind him. “Lewis, are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

Josie hurried towards him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Josie,” he whispered into her hair, his arms finding their home around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. What are you doing here, Lew?” Josie asked, running her fingers through her husband's dishevelled brown locks as she looked up at him worriedly.

“I came to see you. As soon as I got your letter I had to know you were okay.” Lewis admitted, feeling a little pathetic but also no longer caring, as long as his wife was safe that’s all that mattered.

Shouts from behind them caused the couples to pull apart and Josie hurried towards Eugene who was bringing in another wounded soldier.

“Lewis, I have to go but if you’re still here later then we can talk some more.”

Lewis felt lost as his wife slipped from his arms and ran over to the medic who was already reeling off the man’s condition. Lewis felt out of place here, he was of no use in a hospital but watching as his wife hurriedly applied a bandage he knew that Josie was where she belonged

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

hey, quick question for my followers or anyone who reads this. Has anyone had a headmaster/principal like Sobel or is it just me?

“Supply officers made ridiculous demands on subordinate headquarters, which culminated in the height of absurdity when senior headquarters directed all officers who had received a silk escape map before the jump into Normandy to turn them in or be fined $75. I had kept my escape map sewn in the belt lining of my pants all through the war.

After four campaigns, that map had sentimental value. There are times that the army comes up with some rules and orders that defy common sense and are meant to be disobeyed. This time I took a firm stand and I borrowed a punch line from General McAuliffe at Bastogne. Writing a short note to Captain Sobel, still serving as regimental S-4, I wrote, "Nuts!" To add salt into Sobel's wound, I signed the message, "Richard D. Winters, Major, Commanding." That ended it.”

- Beyond Band of Brothers

Dick being absolutely savage.

Hi! Hope you are doing well. I read your headcanon on what they would do if reader wouldn't date a smoker. I was wonder if you could expand on luz? I love the I idea of him and his hands and it got me thinking if maybe he would star playing with readers hair. Just to have something to do with his hands.

Cold Turkey

George Luz x reader

A/N: As always, this is written for the fictionalized characters from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! You can find the hc that this request was based on here! I was so happy to get this request - I feel like I don't get to write for Luz all that often. I'm currently in a very loud environment, though, so if this is riddled with mistakes, I'm sorry! Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️ Warnings: smoking, language, war

“Damnit Luz!” Joe’s chair screeches across the floor as he scoots it away from the radioman. A deep scowl marks his face as he glares at his friend. Everyone else at the table snickers, including Luz, who brushes it off with a shrug. Joe, however, isn’t done. “You’re gonna take out someone’s eye if you keep waving your hands around like that!”

“Oh, come on Joe,” Skinny cuts in. “He only hit your shoulder. Wasn’t even close to your eye.”

George nods along. “Yeah Joe. Come on.”

Joe only shakes his head. “All I’m saying is that the danger of being injured around you has gone up exponentially since you stopped smoking.”

At this, everyone at the table glances at you. They’re not very subtle. Under their sudden attention, you set down the glass you’ve been sipping from and sit up a bit straighter.

“I never told Luz to quit smoking,” you point out.

“No,” Guarnere agrees. “But you did say that you would never be with someone who smokes.”

Joe snaps his fingers, one loud click that exclaims, My point exactly!

Well, they’ve got you there.

Yes, one time while sitting around with the rest of the company and shooting the shit, you may have casually mentioned that you could never date a man who has the fondness for cigarettes that so many of the Easy Company men display. Honestly, though, some of them smoke like chimneys. Having that much smoke blown in your face when you’re around them has led to many splitting headaches. When this war is over, it would be nice to never again worry about experiencing the waves of nausea that overtake you at the scent of cigarette smoke.

To be fair, though – “I can’t help the fact that George likes me so much that he decided to go cold turkey.”

None of them can argue with that. George smiles so wide that he can’t even crack a joke about your relationship or how much he likes you.

It is, however, an undeniable fact that ever since Luz quit smoking, he hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his hands. And as someone who likes to talk, to crack jokes, tell stories, it has led to a lot of expressive gestures that no one seemed to expect from him. Also undeniable is the fact that he often accidentally smacks into whoever is nearest him. Like Toye, his newest and unwitting victim from a few seconds ago.

Bill stands and, leaning across the table, grabs one of your hands and one of George’s, and places them together on the table. The two of you automatically intwine your fingers and Bill retakes his seat with a nod, satisfied by his work.

“There. (Y/N) can just hold his hand to make sure that he doesn’t take out anyone’s eye.”

“Hmmm, that could work.” You smile. “Except, with the fraternization policy, what will we do if Captain Sobel catches us?” After all, there may be some well-known relationships between male and female paratroopers, but the only reason that they’ve lasted so long is that the captain has been unable to find any proof of them. When the others at the table sigh, you shrug. “What? Can I not play devil’s advocate?”

“Just keep your boyfriend from taking out anyone’s eye,” Guarnere grumbles. “Figure something out.”

. . .

To be fair, George does try his best not to go smacking into people when he talks. Big, sweeping hand gestures are reserved for when he gets really excited. Becoming bruised by sitting next to Luz during a story becomes less of a concern as the war drags on. But it’s not until Hagenau that you realize why.

 The skeletal, hollow buildings, so sad in their stature and dingey in appearance, offer more privacy than the foxholes of Holland and Belgium. And, once you get placed on supply duty with George, they provide more time with him.

Side by side, you take a break from sorting boxes, sitting on the floor with your backs against the wall. George is slowly coming back to himself after Bastogne. He’s . . . different, somehow, but his jokes are no longer as dark and he doesn’t scowl so much.

It hits you then, alone with him. George’s voice is light. He’s in the middle of a story about something that happened when he was in high school, and not once have you been at risk of being hit by his gesticulations. Then you realize why – as he talks, George has had his arm around your shoulders, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger as he talks.

No one has ever played with your hair like this before. George is so gentle about it, too – not at all like the big, dramatic hand gestures that the rest of the company used to tease him about. There’s something very intimate about it. You could melt right there on the spot.

More supplies are brought in to sort, forcing the two of you to break away from each other and get back to work. As you work, you can’t help but think about the tenderness of his actions. Has he done this before? No, surely you would have noticed. George has held your hand, held you tight in an embrace, plenty of times before. This, though, is something entirely new. Where did it come from?

Asking him is the obvious answer. The opportunity presents itself when you’re alone again.

“Hey, George?”

The radioman looks up from the box he’s sorting through. His eyes are bright, but there’s a weariness about them that wasn’t there before that month in the freezing cold – before the injuries and the deaths of his closest friends.

“Yes?” He asks.

What if he never does it again? you wonder, just because you asked about it?

You press your lips into a smile. “Nothing,” you lie.

George raises his eyebrows but says nothing. He offers you a grin. “Okay.”

. . .

“I’m glad I didn’t ask.”

You say it casually, offering no explanation. After a moment of silence, of waiting for more, the mattress shifts as George pushes himself up on his elbow beside you. In the rosy morning light that leaks through the windows, he’s beautiful as he looks down at you with a raised brow.

“You gonna elaborate, or - ?”

“Back in Hagenau.”

“Uh huh. What about it?”

 He doesn’t seem to have any clue what you’re talking about, even though the very thing you’re talking about is happening right now; his fingers are gently carding themselves through a lock of your hair as he watches you. A smile spreads across your lips, causing George to huff a laugh.

“What?” He asks.

“This.”

“This?”

Gently, you reach up to touch his hand that is playing with your hair. George glances down at it, never stopping his gentle motions. After a moment, he looks back at you.

“Your hair?”

“Yes.” You tap a finger against his hand. “Playing with it, I mean. I noticed it back in Hagenau, and I was worried that if I asked about it that you might stop.”

“You like it?” When you nod, George pauses to smile before he resumes playing with your tresses. “You know what’s funny? I never even really realized that I was doing it. I guess it just felt kind of natural, somehow.”

“Well don’t stop now,” you say. After all, it’s been years. Which has given you lots of time to enjoy George’s affections in this way. Still, you hope that it never stops. Not when you’re so used to it. Not when you like it so much.

George lays back down beside you now, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. His hands are still in your hair when he says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”