#hbo war show fanfiction
Text
56. Where You Go, I'm Going/So Jump, And I'm Jumping
Leslie Sheppard
Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @coco-bean-1218 @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
June 5th came and went in a blur. Before Leslie knew it, night had fallen. Where the lamps would usually have been lit stood dark, empty poles that more than one man had run into by not looking up from the shadows. Leslie ducked around the metal beast, knowing she'd never see it again and not sure why she cared enough to think about that. She'd be in France by morning, and it would be dismantled as soon as the airfield could shrink again post-Normandy. Strange things. A relic from old London, she suspected, nothing like the electric lamps she knew from home. These ones stood alone, entirely disconnected from one another. They had to be lit by hand individually, lighting up the night in a slow spread from the center outward. They stood alone. Like the men always said about Currahee.
We stand alone—
Together.
The sun set just after 8:30 in the evening. 20:30 in military time. Leslie's mind had kept slipping all day, falling back upon old manners she once knew. In that last fading light not ten minutes ago, Mama E had gravely informed the Mechorps that their DZ had changed. Gathered in a clump outside their commander's tent, the men and women of the company kicked at the crusty, dried mud and muttered condolences but never fears. They couldn't be afraid. Not soldiers. Leslie was afraid but not surprised to hear they'd be jumping to meet up with the 2nd Armored Infantry now. Kiko, hollow-faced and silent, seemed to have completely forgotten Mama E ever gave them that warning in the long age that had passed since yesterday. Tink was somewhere else, busying herself with packing or food or what have you. She knew someone would tell her if there was news.
"We've got news."
Once told, Tink sat quietly on her bunk, staring at the emptiness of the tent. Everything but her bunk and the support pole in the center of the tent frame had been dismantled and packed away for another regiment's use somewhere to the north. Leslie blinked for a moment, then looked out the tent flap at the beckoning stars. She took a deep breath and crossed herself, small, so maybe no one but God would see if he cared to look.
"I'm gonna go find a priest or somethin'," she said.
"I think I'll pray here," Tink replied, looking at Kiko, who hesitated. Tink beckoned her over to the bunk, and she went and sat, leaning on Tink's shoulder.
"I think I'll stay here," she told Leslie, weary in the eyes.
"Okay."
Leslie stepped over, kissed them each on the forehead, and left.
Now, walking through the night towards the last remaining sector of light in the camp, she looked out towards the lights of the Airfield and took another deep breath. She stopped to let a British platoon pass by uninterrupted and ducked into a tent with a torn side. No luck; just a mess tent that had been raided for last-minute snacks. Leslie couldn't imagine how anyone could eat before the advance. She'd barely touched her dinner.
Feeling her stomach lurch, she picked up a half of an orange and kept going.
The only man of the cloth she could locate in the darkness was Father Maloney, a chaplain who served with Easy Company. She found him by following the words of his prayers, though at first, she hadn't been able to hear what exactly he was saying. As she drew closer, she recognized some of the Latin, in the sense that she would have recognized a face from her childhood or a story she hadn't read in many years. Maloney's face, lit by candles, appeared around the bend of a brick wall, and Leslie continued forward over the mossy ground until she'd joined the makeshift congregation. They stood clumped together in the shadow of a large tent that now housed a group of British anti-aircraft gunners. Not three hours ago, American paratroopers had laid their heads in those beds for the last time.
Skip was there, fingering his rosary near the back of the group. He wrapped his arm around Leslie protectively as she came up to his side, almost as if he'd known she'd come.
"No Tink?" he whispered.
Leslie shook her head, leaning into his arm as if she needed the warmth despite the early June air.
"Said she'd rather pray with Kiko."
He nodded.
"We'll see you on the ground, then."
Leslie froze. Skip felt it and squeezed his arm around her.
"Won't we?"
"No," she sighed, her shoulders falling as her chest tightened. "No, you won't."
"What?" He stepped back and stared at her, even though Father Maloney had started up a new prayer. "Why?"
"Hey, Sheppard!"
Archie Potts didn't seem to notice he was interrupting a service. Maloney glanced at him but kept leading the prayer. Archie waved at Leslie, his watch glinting in the light from the torn-side mess tent.
"C'mon, we gotta go, we gotta go!"
"Gimme a sec!" she whisper-shouted back, then turned back to Skip, grabbing his hand to squeeze where it still hung close to her side. "We just got the news, right before I came over here."
"Shit."
"Yeah, no shit. I mean, yes, it's shit, but no shit, it's shit."
They laughed, but there wasn't much humor to be had, and after a beat of silence as Maloney's even voice filled the air, they pulled each other into a tight hug.
"Watch out for yourself out there," she told him.
"You watch out, too."
"I will. Tell Don I love 'im, yeah?"
"I can't do that," he refused, shaking his head. "That's something you've gotta tell him yourself."
"Oh, I know," she replied without thinking about it. "I didn't mean like that, not yet."
He stared at her, astonished, but then he smiled, and she knew he was trying to find the silver lining in all this.
"Not yet?"
She flushed.
"Skip—don't."
"You could go find him. Right now. You could-"
"No. Just tell him the way I always mean it, alright? Please?"
"I'll tell him," he promised, softening. "Not like that, but— I'll tell him."
She grabbed his hand and squeezed, looking him in the eye for what she prayed would not be the last time.
"Godspeed, Skippy old boy."
He squeezed back.
"See you on the other side."
Archie came over to drag her away, and Leslie went with him, muttering a quick amen so as not to offend Father Maloney with her early dismissal. Archie scolded her for making the both of them late and as Leslie went back around the brick wall bend, she lost sight of Skip in the dark.
22:00 hours. 10 p.m. Whichever time you called it, the time was ripe. Time to load up the planes.
Out of all her friends, Skip was the only one from Easy who Leslie had seen since early that morning when she and Tink snuck over to have their breakfast with him, Don, Alton More, and a few of the other Easy boys they didn't know all that well. Kiko said she wasn't hungry and stayed in bed. She was still there three hours later when they came back from the morning run, and Tink bribed her to get out of bed with a Hershey bar and a few rounds of canasta to get her mind off things. Leslie had said goodbye to Don right after that breakfast, and that was it. It felt strange to be without him, especially now since she knew they would no longer have a chance of meeting up on the ground.
She missed him already.
It didn't take long to load up the planes, but then came the waiting until everyone had boarded and checked their equipment and cleared the runways. Officially, D-Day would begin on the 6th of June. It would be past midnight by the time the Mechorps—and Easy, and all the 506th, for that matter—flew over their DZ. Leslie was starting to doze off when she felt the engines of their plane start. Not doze off into sleep—into a trance. She saw shapes in the shadows around her friends' legs and boots. They started taxiing to the runway and that was that. No turning back now. Not there ever had been before. Not for Leslie. She stuck her clammy hands into her pants pockets and found the paper wrapping of a stick of gum sticking to her left hand. She pulled it out and squinted at it, feeling the engines thrum louder and louder behind her head.
The planes lined up on the runway and waited for their signal to take off.
Leslie folded the wrapper into and out of the shape of a crane over and over again until her hands became too sweaty to get the little folds right. Thinking about all the things she could have said to Don but didn't as they were saying goodbye, she felt the crane slip through her fingers. It fell from her lap and bounced away across the unsteady floor. No one else saw or noticed, and she looked away from it, focusing on the stars outside instead.
Don fiddled with his hands and wished he'd kissed Leslie when he had the chance.
Skip wrapped his rosary beads around his finger and prayed to live to see his home, his family, his friends, and Faye again.
Penk listened to the sounds of the plane—the engine, the shifting of his comrades' boots across the floor and their bodies across the benches, the rattling of the metal frame as the wheels inched forward over the asphalt—and tried not to think about all he could lose. Life. Limb. Happiness. His friends. Kiko—if he hadn't lost her already.
He bowed his head.
Next to Leslie, Danny Huff pointed out the open door at the spotlights turning on all down the runway. The planes in front began to move, propellers pulling them forward.
Kiko tried to focus on her breathing. Now was a bad time to let her emotions get the better of her. If she had only done it sooner. Or later. Or never.
She wished it had been never.
Tink thought about her brothers back home. She thought about her cousin Janie. She held her rosary to her lips and ushered up a prayer that everyone she loved would live through the night.
Especially George, she thought, feeling guilty for the preference but unwilling to take it back.
George thought about Tink. About how long she hugged him in the shadows behind the tent after the last dinner they'd shared. About how long it took her to let go, and about the kiss she ran back to press to his cheek, her eyes shining with tears, before she left for good. Even as Liebgott started to cough and dry-heave and the other men shied away from his impending vomit, George stayed lost in his mind, sitting still and cold and afraid.
Captain Eades, Mama E, sat at the front of the pack, gripping the edge of the doorframe with her good hand. The metal felt warm against her palm from how long she'd held it there. She looked across at her mechanics—her soldiers—her boys and girls—and saw their faces, one by one. She saw the fear they tried or didn't even bother to hide. She saw the nausea and the calm. She saw the strength and the weakness. She saw Luchette reach across the aisle and grab Sheppard's hand, then again beside her to take Palekiko's. Sheppard and Palekiko leaned forward and connected the third side of the triangle, and the minds of the men looking upon them seemed to ease at the sight. Captain Mercedes Eades looked at her watch, lifting her tiny flashlight to read the surface as the plane began to gather speed.
Tick-tick-tick.
Hands met at midnight and the plane bucked into the air. Flight, flight from all things known and toward the great, black night. Flight across the Channel and on to France, to war and bloody glory.
So be it. The 506th Mechanical Corps—the first in history, the unsung heroes of 101st Airborne—would get the job done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#leslie sheppard#destiny carries a wrench#audra 'tink' luchette#kelani palekiko#band of the brothers#leslie sheppard 56: where you go I'm going/so jump and I'm jumping#donald malarkey#donald malarkey x oc#band of brothers oc#band of brothers oc ficlet#band of brothers ficlet#hbo war show#hbo war show oc#hbo war show oc ficlet#hbo war show ficlet#hbo war show fanfiction#band of brothers fanfiction#hbo war show fic#band of brothers fic#fanfiction#oc fanfiction#oc ficlet#destiny carries a wrench ficlet#destiny carries a wrench update
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
honestly as an american i am also vexed by the tone of mota. mostly bc there is no tone? like i know that all war tv shows and movies are basically historical fanfiction but this takes it to a different level. the only way i can really describe it is "too pc". not in the "people are too sensitive these days" way but the "everything has to be so perfect that nothing means anything" way. to be fair that is a gripe that i have had with many shows and movies made in the past 10 years or so. feels bad man.
honestly, I feel this. you're right. I was talking to my lolo about it... even Band of Brothers, arguably the one that's most tainted by WW2 nostalgia-propaganda of the Bush Regime, has something to say about war. MotA... doesn't. it doesn't have anything to say that the other 3 shows of HBO War haven't already said. it's literally just a bunch of epithets about how War is Hell, War Takes, Death Does Not Discriminate, etc... without actually putting it together and making a thesis statement of it, ya know!
Band of Brothers' thesis is in the title-- From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered-- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother. It's about the brothers you gain in and you lose to war! And, with the addition of the actual veterans being part of the production, it's about the importance of stories! Of making sure people don't forget! that these things happened to these people!! and that it should never happen again!! ok! great!
Generation Kill's thesis is sewed through the tapestry of the whole show (in the best way, btw, idk why ppl don't recognize it as the best HBO War show writing-wise like... guys. c'mon.)-- War is a Hell that benefits only the few and fucks everyone else!! Oh, and the Military Industrial Complex that likes to depict and sanitize War Crimes is spit to the face of all the victims of America's Imperialism-- American war vets we mercilessly left to die on the front lines and when they come home, included!! ok! great!
The Pacific's thesis is much the same, but with an additional criticism of the WW2 nostalgia-propaganda of the Bush Regime (not just BoB, but also Saving Private Ryan, Pearl Harbor, etc etc)-- oh, we're the greatest generation, huh? Look at the shit we had to do. Look at the people we killed. This is the reality of War in any generation. This is the reality of the War that just happened. You wanted war this bad? Look at it!! You think Peace is an easy and appeasing reward? think the fuck again!!!
Hell, it's not HBO War, but M*A*S*H has the same message-- is war worth it, just as long as we can justify it? Really? How ethical, really, is the Hippocratic Oath of a Doctor when you're at War? Do No Harm? How can you say that? I fix soldiers to send them back to die. How am I not complicit in their harm and the harm they do unto others, then?
......... What does MotA say? War is Hell. Yes, and? We know that. We've known that for a long time now. What else, huh? What else? Airplanes... pretty. Yeah. Ok. Those effects are lovely, yes. What else? Uuuuhhhh....... we have Austin Butler? hm. Try again.
#ask#you are correct anon and you should say it#anyway I'm waiting for the last episode to watch it all together and actually take note of the themes. just to make some fucking sense of i#because right now it doesn't make any fucking sense!!#I'm gonna catch some flak for this aren't I#masters of the air#mota#mota meta
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am BEGGING you to watch Otter Dynasty on HBOMax.
Imagine someone took high budget documentary footage of otters, asked George R R Martin to write fanfiction about the otters, then spent a ton of money producing it into a tv show where British people voice over the first-person narrative of the otters to put on HBO.
I am literally only on episode one and so far the exposition has included high society otter queens talking absolute royal smack about each other, musing their plans for war, and worrying about their territory and linage, all whilst praying for guidance from their otter ancestors and gathering information from their TURTLE SPIES.
TURTLE. SPIES.
It is positively UNHINGED.
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gift for @softguarnere for @hbowardaily holiday gift exchange; Happy Christmas, love! <3
Waiting For Your Reply: A Playlist and Fanfiction:
Lewis Nixon x Reader [Accompanying Playlist here [x]]
Prompt for HBO War Daily Holiday Exchange: Lewis Nixon x Reader, Secret Relationship, United after D-Day
(I tilted this slightly to be United after V.E. Day!)
Author's Notes: This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect meant to the real life veterans.
Warnings: Language, sexually suggestive language, you are reading a fanfiction.
Summary: Lewis Nixon's mother, in her own planning for her son's eventual divorce (and heading for her own divorce historically from Mr. Nixon in 1945), encourages our main character, "new money" pushed by her society-climbing mother, to write to Nixon during the course of World War Two. Written between Christmas 1944 and Christmas 1945.
California, 1944
You met Mrs. Doris Nixon at a charity meet you'd been roped into by your mother- half out of an obligation to genuinely help the war effort, half at the prodding to sidle up to society heads.
"I thought we went to California to escape the snow in New England," You mutter, but fixing your gloves to enter the country club, the juxtaposition between cheerful candy canes hanging from nearby palm trees making the upcoming Christmas holidays seem positively comical.
"Yes, and to support the war effort. Their family makes explosives- you think that's going to end anytime soon?" Your mother says dryly, fixing your collar before rebuttoning the top of your blouse. "Now go. And remember her titles- Founder and President of Guide Dogs for the Blind, State Commander of the California Cancer Society, and the National Vice-President of the American Women's Voluntary Services, in addition to the President of the California Chapter-"
"Yes- yes- I remember-" You mutter, practically swatting away Mrs. Nixon's listed credentials that were supposed to be a talking point in order to connect with her. "I can walk in myself, Mother. You know how people react to you in high society-"
Your mother bristles, before sniffing and holding her head high. "They're always afraid of someone who challenges them. That's where you come in. Now go." She reemphasizes, practically swatting your behind to push you forward, but even your mother realizing this wouldn't exactly endear anyone to you.
-----
As soon as you enter the conference room, you could see that any organic way of approaching Mrs. Nixon was all but impossible.
As much as your mother saw you rubbing elbows with old money elites, it seemed every other woman and their daughter in California with two red cents to rub together had the same idea. Your senses were overwhelmed as soon as you entered the room, with women upon women snaking past each other in order to get closer to anyone with a fortune or a son (Preferably, both).
Overwhelmed despite your best (or perhaps, your mother's worst) intentions, all you could do was stare from a distance, before shaking your head and leaning down at the catering table to grab a spinach puff.
"My son loves those," A voice commented, as you look up to meet Mrs. Nixon's gaze. Of course. True society women met every new person who came in with warmth and civility- she was saving you the embarrassment of having to elbow through the crowd, as well as making you feel welcome.
"Oh?" You ask lightly, afraid to pop one in your mouth and to talk through food, instead perching it awkwardly on the edge of your plate. A second's silence, but enough to make you realize you needed to elaborate, or you'd lose her fast.
"Is that why you have such a connection to the cause, ma'am?" You finally manage to say, but saying it softly enough that it came across as genuine and not prying. Your mother would be proud.
Mrs. Nixon's face clouded momentarily, before the serene socialite mask resettled on her face.
"Yes. Lewis is working as an Intelligence Officer, overseas-"
"Well, at least he's certified intelligent. Not just a mother's bias." You can't help but tease, the words out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.
Women turn around to shoot you disapproving looks, as you swallow, looking down and about to excuse yourself, before hearing a bark of laughter, looking up and seeing Mrs. Nixon pull a photo out of her purse, analyzing you for a moment, before turning the photo over and scrawling something on the back.
"Write him. I think he could use a laugh."
You stare down at the general military address given to you, gaping, before looking up and stammering weakly. "Y-You don't even know my name-"
Mrs. Nixon gave you a wry smile, the same smile mirrored in her son in the palm of your hand.
"Bold of you to assume I don't know your mother is waiting right outside. Tell her it's unfortunate, but we don't have time for her to stop in, today. And Lewis is married. Not that has stopped any of the other Nixon men from taking into account the affections of a pretty lady-" She says dryly, pointedly taking two spinach puffs and taking her leave.
-----
New England, 1944
A month later, the address Mrs. Nixon had given you danced between your fingers, along with the face of Mr. Lewis Nixon with it.
"The longer you stare at it, the less likely he'll appear in the flesh-" Your domestic help notes as she brings up your dinner to your bedside.
"That will be all, Betty-" You say evenly, but trying not to smile as she taps the side of her nose, as if to know why you were hesitating.
You never wrote to Lewis Nixon, you were never disappointed.
Plus he was married...
Two seconds later, you were fishing for your best stationary out of your side table, pulling a nearby book onto your bed to use as a desk, and diving in with all the vigour you'd held back for the past few weeks.
Dear Lewis Nixon,
In the spirit of complete transparency, I want to let you know that your mother gave me your mailing address. She seems to think you’re lonely, but I suppose all mothers assume their sons are.
Even those who are married.
So I don’t exactly know what you want from me. I suppose I can pretend to be what you actually wanted when opening up a letter from overseas. A happy surprise.
What’s your type? A Hedy Lamarr? Betty Grable? Even a Katherine Hepburn?
Let me know what I should be to you, and my bust size will expand and contract accordingly.
In the meantime, I will pretend you are Cary Grant.
Yours sincerely, Me, xoxo
You scrawl your name and address on the front, slide it between the letters of your father's to be mailed out in the morning, and promptly assume you'll never hear from the photo now hidden between The Bible your mother forced you to still keep in your bedside table.
---
The letter came back just before Christmas, where your mother was launching into another lecture about you entering your mid-twenties and not having found a suitable match.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Not that!" You argue, throwing your mother's latest option back in her face.
"You've been out in society for six years- all the best choices are taken or divorced-!"
"Well, next time a man shows up on our doorstep, mother, I'll be sure to tell him I'm a pathetic old spinster with no other options, so he better take me now or lose me forever!" You snap, shoving back from the table with a satisfying squeak on the newly varnished wooden floors and storming out of the house, ignoring your mother's shrill condemnation of unladylike behaviour.
It was only when you got to the front of the waterfront near your house did you pull out the mail handed to you that day, sorting through your correspondence, before pulling out a foreign, shaky scrawl, stamped with approval from the U.S. Army.
Hey, Rita Hayworth:
Nice to know my mother continues to be involved in my love life at least three continents over and while I'm in the middle of a Belgian forest.
My ideal bust size is 36, but I don't complain, as I take what I can get.
I don't know exactly what you want from me, either. But perhaps we can find out together.
Nice to know you, too.
Yours,
Cary
(P.S: Send a photo, if you're brave enough).
You look down at the letter, blinking a couple of times, before a smile slowly grows on your face.
You liked a challenge.
----
Your correspondence continued into 1945, kept hidden from your mother and prying eyes, and considering Lewis' marital status, you assumed he kept your correspondence relatively low key.
You both pretended it was nothing, really. At least, on your part. Only you knew that you spent hours getting ready to take a proper photo at the local department store to send off.
There was a lull in activity in spring with V.E. Day in May, although you had a sense of why. Everyone heard the Japanese were on the verge of surrendering after the Germans had effectively turned it in. It was only a matter of time.
The last letter you got from Lewis Nixon was messier than usual. It contained something heavy.
When you opened it, gold ring. Drunk, failure, with failure rubbed out so hard it had ripped the page. Followed by the words. "I write to you from the dead. Divorced."
All you could do was write back and say "That's not funny."
Your first instinct to respond immediately. Next morning down to the water, the only place to write away from prying eyes. The only thing she could think to do was circle the erased bit and draw a line through it, before folding it to go inside the envelope.
You stared at the blank pieces of paper that remained in your hands, before writing down all your own insecurities.
"I'm a coward." You write. "I'm sheltered. I complain about luxuries while enjoying them. I'm a disappointment to my parents. I haven't done half of what I could have done for this war. And I don't want anything- all I know is what I don't want. I keep waiting for what I want to hit me, but it never does. But I know you're not dead. And you're not a failure. And if anything's hit me, it's you."
You post it that day, avoiding the advances of yet another of your father's tennis partners.
-------
By the time Christmas 1945 rolled around, you hadn't heard from Lewis Nixon in months. You knew he wasn't dead, having unanticipatedly received a glowing but generic mailing list letter from the former Mrs. Nixon from Palm Beach, Florida. Your mother could hardly contain her excitement as you look headed past your mother's Christmas party guests and made a strategic beeline past the mistletoe to people-watch in the corner all the people who were barely affected by the war that had occurred almost a world away.
Suddenly, you felt a knock behind you on the window.
You looked down, and were directly looking into the face of the photo still kept within your Bible upstairs.
You gaped, the snow swirling around him outside, wearing a clearly well-designed wool coat, but the intensity in his gaze obvious, it hard to tell whether he was focused or drunk, or what exactly he was doing there.
You looked across the room to see your mother none the wiser to her potential cash cow outside, before looking back down, unable to keep from putting your fingertips to the glass. "I-It's cold out." You finally mouth, as he looks up at you.
"You're not a coward." Lewis looks up at you, before a hint of the humour you had grown to miss over the past couple of months, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Not if you come with me now."
You imagine yourself hearing things, but Lewis' words definitely audible through the single-pane glass. You look back as if on instinct, but Lewis immediately tapping the glass, forcing you to focus back on him, the drifting of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" now seemingly the only thing coming between you two.
"Come with me."
"Where?" You mouth back, but a smile slowly growing on your face.
Lewis gives a little shrug, but his own smile growing to mirror yours.
"Wherever you want to go, Rita. As long as it doesn't involve your mother."
Within five minutes, you had a small bag packed and made an excuse to excuse yourself outside, the feeling of Lewis' arm around your shoulder making you giddy as you threw your bag into the back of a luxury car, with Lewis' ring in your back pocket.
"Cary," You tease as you move over to crank the heat in the car, before cuddling close on the bench seating, pulling your yellow wool coat closer around you.
"You're a couple inches shorter than you look in the movies."
"A Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart."
-----
Playlist:
Sweet Talk by Saint Motel
Moving- The Happy Fits
Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey
The Last Great American Dynasty by Taylor Swift
Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift
This Boy by The Beatles
What You’re Doing by The Beatles
If I Fell by The Beatles
Baby I’m Yours by The Arctic Monkeys
No 1. Party Anthem by The Arctic Monkeys
#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#lewis nixon x reader#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagine#my writing#my edits#I wrote this in November LOL hopefully you like <3#lewis nixon#hbo war#softguarnere#hbowardaily
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
only you (and you alone)
(i wanted to upload this earlier, but my respiratory allergy has struck again and i am fighting for my life 😂) hi @hell-it-was-you! i'm your assigned writer for the HBO war short story exchange. i've never written a story in English before so this is a first for me, and it was fun! i hope you like it. thank you for participating in this exchange, and thanks to those who organized it! 🫶
show: band of brothers
ship: speirton
word count: 999 words
fanfiction prompts: a private bet at officers poker night. a drunken very sloppy confession of feelings
warnings: none
a/n: they're so silly here. i'm sorry lmao
Ron often wondered about the how's and why's as a puzzle he must resolve at any cost. Most likely, he wondered about those matters that didn't really need a resolution outside the battlefield.
Whenever a dead soldier’s face appeared in his dreams—a name he could barely remember—and Ron’s façade would crumble down, asking himself, ‘Why are we still fighting?’
He had no idea.
Following orders felt natural to him. In and of itself, Speirs belonged to that certainty and what it involved: the rush.
His heart pounding loudly in his ears, and not a single doubt disturbing him. Later, Ron'd think about how in the hell he was still alive.
He wouldn't tell anyone about his thoughts.
Perhaps it was luck. Some people were lucky, and some were not. These questions always got him into an endless spiral, and he dawned on a new, unfair question.
Ron was so far beyond surprise he couldn't even open his mouth. He stared at Carwood, half-heartedly hearing Harry and Nixon, cards strewn all over the table, and drinks of whiskey Nix looted for each of them.
And Speirs wondered and wondered and wondered. Even after losing another hand.
He slumped his shoulders; what a lost cause.
How was it possible that Lieutenant Lipton was able to so easily read all of his moves? Infuriating. And what was more than infuriating? The unsolved why.
Why did he keep waiting for it? To be read by him?
Was it the rush?
Was it the way Lipton, with his lazy smirk and flushed, rosy cheeks, glanced at him like he knew what he was doing?
Probably.
Lip looked back at him through his lidded eyes, and Ron took a deep breath to ground himself.
He was getting sidetracked.
They had been drinking for hours when Harry and Nix called it a night. Ron could tell by Harry’s slurred speech and the unsteadiness of his feet that he was tipsy. Nix stood up, completely unaffected by what he’d drunk, and mocked a cheerful Lipton—the drunkest of them—by telling him to drink more wisely the next time. Nix, of all people.
Ron promised them to take care of him before the officers left.
He began to regret it.
Who would have thought Lipton was the silliest and most talkative drunk?
The room seemed to float around like a boat, making Lipton stumble around when he tried to stand. He was about to take the whole bottle, but Speirs stopped him by his wrist.
"Don't."
Lip read the stern expression on Ron's face and shook his head. "I'm not that drunk, sir."
"You’ve had too much. I can’t give you any more."
Ron placed a hand over Lip's shoulders, and he leaned into his touch. Not a single complaint from Carwood, just following his CO. As usual.
He carried him to their shared billet. Ron squinted at the darkness, swallowing the light, and was careful in his walking. A difficult task when Lipton couldn't stop talking soothingly into his ear.
"Remember when… you ran straight through the German line at Foy… and came back unscathed?"
Ron's eyes crinkled; he couldn't hold his smile for much longer.
"I remember it."
"You were… the bravest man I've ever seen… I’ll never forget that… as long as I live."
Lip did not speak afterward; his eyes were fixed on Speirs. His heart might burst at any moment, mesmerized by the sight.
Ron found he was still staring.
"Like what you see?"
That snapped Lipton out of the trance, blinking in his direction. He laughed, and his hot breath sent shivers down Ron's spine.
"I always do, sir." Lip said, matter-of-factly.
The conviction in Carwood's voice surprised Ron. They have been keeping things professional, but the major breakthrough came almost by accident.
Ron smiled, and controlled by a force outside himself, he whispered, tongue in cheek, "Are you flirting with me, Lieutenant?"
Lipton was silent for a good minute. It was so long that Speirs checked if he was still awake.
"Now that I think of it… I am, sir."
A straightforward answer that caught Ron off guard. Again. His face turned up to Lip in awe as he continued.
"I know… I'm not supposed to want you." Lipton closed his eyes. The words were just too difficult to force out of his own mouth. Finally, he managed to slur, "But I do."
And of course, Speirs wouldn't waste Lip's honesty.
"So you want me?"
Lipton glanced at Ron's lips, unaware that Ron was doing the same.
Carwood didn't bother to consider the consequences. The whiskey was causing him to say things he wouldn't have said otherwise, and he might blame himself for it in the morning, but not tonight.
"Yessir."
Ron hummed in response, amused.
Speirs had to hold himself back from kissing him. He knew by then that he never wanted anything more than to have Carwood's lips over his.
He thought about catching the nape of Carwood's neck and pulling him forward, cherishing a sweet gasp from his mouth. Ron let his thoughts run wild, Lip's fingers tangled into his curls to hold him closer, and the taste of whiskey in—
That would have to wait.
It was just a moment, but Ron's question had already been answered.
Neither of them said a word, just looking into each other's eyes and knowing the untold truth.
Carwood tilted his head from side to side, frowning. He had started to feel the effects of the alcohol long before he sobered up, so Ron made him drink a full glass of water before allowing him to lie down and sleep.
Settling in for his shut-eye, Lip mumbled.
"Good night, sir."
Ron chuckled unabashedly. How funny. Calling him "sir" after confessing his feelings, drunk and sloppy.
He pondered how Lipton would behave during his inevitable morning hangover.
"It's Ron."
Lip repeated to himself his name, a tender whisper, and he didn't know the effect it had on Speirs.
"Good night, Ron."
#hbowarshort23#short story exchange#band of brothers#ronald speirs#carwood lipton#speirton#hbo war#yeah i am sucker for these two
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Miscellaneous Tag game
Created by the amazing @ronald-speirs
Favorite place in the world you’ve visited? - I haven't travelled much outside of Canada, but I loved Halifax! I visited the Titanic Museum while there.
Something you’re proud of yourself for? - Choosing to build skills that are outside of my comfort zone and a career that forces me to develop my weaknesses into strengths (i.e.: becoming a teacher when I used to shake with fright when public speaking).
Favorite books? - I'm loving MXTX's danmei novels, especially TCGF/Heaven Officials Blessing.
Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?- All my mutuals (that was an easy out right there and I'll accept any tomatoes thrown my way)
Favorite thing about your culture? - Storytelling
When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched? - Joined around 2012 with Band of Brothers. My mom watched it solely for Damian Lewis and one day it worked for me; I haven't left since.
Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite? - Ambrose's novel & Parachute Infantry
Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?- Doc Roe he's so bbygirl & probably that part where he tells guarnere his uti will have to wait another day (also any shot of his hands I have a problem)
Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content? - I make graphics and gifsets for band of brothers (haven't made any gifs since 2018)
Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs? - I don't think I have a favourite anymore tbh. I've always loved Rachel Weisz.
Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others? - "You can't dwell on any of it"
Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you? - I used to read harvest moon fanfiction and don't you judge me for it farming can get hot and heavy
If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)? - I've got tons of ideas and no talent to write anything...but I'd also be willing to beta so also hit me up
Three things that make you smile?
reading mutuals tags cause you're all so funny and make me laugh
posting ridiculous content
bickering with @snarkyliebgott
Any nicknames you like? - My name is simple enough it never needed one - my parents have nicknames for me but those aren't interesting enough to share.
List some people you love to see around on tumblr! - Everyone below that I'll be tagging and more!!!!!!!!! If I follow you that means I love your content, whether that be things you create or things you share.
What would you do during a zombie apocalypse? - Peace out
Favorite movie? - The Secret Garden (1993)
Do you like horror movies? - Absolutely I do! Horror movies and BOB are the only things I can watch where I'm completely engrossed and am not drifting into my own thoughts.
Tagging:
@snarkyliebgott @staud @1waveshortofashipwreck @ewipandora @josephtoye @bobparkhurst @flashnthunder (I'd tag more but I feel bad since I already spammed y'all with one of these yesterday)
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Made by the amazing @ronald-speirs (my sister wrote this part, but I've seen your stuff and I agree so I'm leaving it). And thanks @1waveshortofashipwreck for the tag
Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?
Mt. Etna. When I was little (like, 3rd grade) we lived in Sicily, and one winter my brother and I wanted desperately to play in the snow, but it hadn't snowed where we lived in a long time. So we took a drive up Etna until we saw snow, where we stopped and spent the day playing around in it. (It was later that there was a horrible eruption that caused a bad earthquake where we lived, but I sleep like Nixon so I was dead to the world throughout the event.)
Something you’re proud of yourself for?
Making it through fire academy. Other than playing basketball one year in childhood I had never been very athletic, but I was out there doing bleacher runs, blackout drills, and climbing ladders to drag giant hoses to the top of buildings with the rest of them. I'm driven by the desire to not make an ass out of myself in front of others, and somehow I was able to do all those things, and ultimately participate in a live burn at the end of the program.
Favorite books?
Making my way through the books written by and about the troopers, so I gotta go with Band of Brothers. But my other favorites are anything by Kurt Vonnegut, the Dark Tower series, the Black Company series, Les Miserables, Moby Dick, Practical Demonkeeping (and almost anything by Christopher Moore), Hitchhiker's Guide...I'm sure I'm leaving some out, I love to read (Dick Tracy and Flash Gordon mostly...I couldn't resist).
Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?
.........band of brothers. Specifically my background characters. Specifically Smokey and McClung.
Favorite thing about your culture? About being American?
When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?
It was a long road.......it came out when my family was stationed in Japan, so I didn't really know about it until I moved back. Streaming wasn't a thing then, so I would catch parts here and there, and I eventually figured I had seen the whole thing. Spent a long time thinking that people overreacted to it and that it was overrated. But I'm also leaving out one thing: that I am stupid. Figured my sister would appreciate having seen it, and suggested we watch it. I realized at the end of the first episode just how stupid I am.
Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?
I have a growing collection, but work often gets in the way. I've only read Ambrose's Band of Brothers. I've also read the Smokey portion of A Company of Heroes by Marcus Brotherton.
Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?
Have I mentioned how much I love Smokey yet.... One of his best moments (I think) is when he meets with Roe in Bastogne in his foxhole and gives him the morphine, tells him where to find scissors, and about Toye's boots.
Also McClung. And I love "ask him to dance, doc." The battle on the outskirts of Carentan has to be one of my favorite parts of the series though.
Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?
Just some gifs so far. I do like to write, but I've never dabbled in fanfiction.
Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?
Russell Crowe and Michael Fassbender are the ones where I'll pretty much watch anything as long as one of them is in it, even if it's bad (like Jonah Hex...horrible movie, but worth it to see Fassbender's little villain character doing his little tee-hee leprechaun laugh through all his scenes). I'll also watch almost anything with Emily Blunt, she is fantastic and a hilarious human being.
Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?
So many by Kurt Vonnegut, but I'll just put two:
"If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind."
"We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane."
Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?
I had a bearded dragon named Ichabod years ago. And I still love that name for a lizard.
If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?
If I ever start writing again, then yes. 😊
Three things that make you smile?
Anything band of brothers (obviously)
my remote-controlled tank (which I did not expect to love so much)
Facial muscles
Any nicknames you like?
You can call me anything and I won't care. If it's an insult I'll probably just wind up more confused than offended.
List some people you love to see around on tumblr!
I can't even think of all the people I see around here, but of course my sister @1waveshortofashipwreck, also @executethyself35, @love--persevering. And the ones I see around like @panzershrike-pretz, @dustyjumpwjngs, @blood-mocha-latte, @ewipandora, @cody-helix02, @blueberry-ovaries, @grumpy-liebgott, @hanniewinnix, @kafka-ohdear, @malarkgirlypop, @whollyjoly (i'm sure i'm leaving some out, sorry....)
What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?
Finally have a job I like probably. Not like I have a crowbar, axe, jacket with a thousand pockets, and combat boots hoping for something to happen...
Favorite movie?
So, so many. The 12th Man, Four Lions, The Nice Guys, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, The Professional, Headhunters, the Full Monty, anything in the Mad Max franchise, Death of Stalin, Tremors, District 9, the Right Stuff, Children of Men, Suddenly Last Summer, Banshees of Inisherin, Dunkirk, 1917, Fury, 28 Days Later, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Drop Dead Fred, Sicario, Lars and the Real Girl, Casablanca, Three Kings, the Great Escape, the Fifth Element, Hud, Stand By Me, Tucker & Dale vs Evil, Evolution...I could go on
Do you like horror movies?
Yup. 28 Days Later is up there in my favorites. The Descent is an EXCELLENT horror movie for anyone that hasn't seen it (and has made it this far down my rambling answers). Ravenous isn't very well known, and it's not perfect, but it's fun and weird. Stir of Echoes is an unconventional horror movie, but an excellent one-off story. Slither is a fun one with a decent cast (Elizabeth Banks, Nathan Fillion, Michael Rooker, among others).
No pressure tags!!
I'm just gonna copy and paste the people I put up in my answers. Sorry if you already did this, but enjoy another tag: @executethyself35, @love--persevering, @panzershrike-pretz, @dustyjumpwjngs, @blood-mocha-latte, @ewipandora, @cody-helix02, @blueberry-ovaries, @grumpy-liebgott, @hanniewinnix, @kafka-ohdear, @malarkgirlypop, @whollyjoly
#tag game#hbowar tag game#late night ramblings#i wrote more here than i did for my last homework assignment
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
thanks @ep6bastogne @hellofanidea @lewis-winters @lamialamia @merriell-allesandro-shelton @footprintsinthesxnd and @heystovepipeboys for tagging me in this!
WIP Ask Game
RULES: post the names of all of the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.
eddie jones made it home from the war (andy did not)
notes for thing
the ballroom extravaganza
i know i won't stop searching for the moment when the world stopped for you (tbe notes)
how does it feel to be alive again?
hbowar f1 zoom zoomies
gay pirates in space
babe got a tamagotchi!!!
harry welsh punk band frontman!!! spin off? prequel?
what if i wrote a football au for hbo war where the different shows are different teams in the same league?
the adventures of campbell and owens
giving nix a hot mess of a boyfriend (oliver)
tommy monet loml
ronnix apocalypse au
what if eddie jones was in the strokes (kind of) and andy haldane booked acts for new york music venues
oh no i think i'm writing bradnate
TENNIS
something something nate vomiting caterpillar
stupid bondi rescue au for the pacific what r u doing stop typing
jjk au for hbo war i might go feral idk
no i'm not writing fanfiction about the two gay lib dems from the thick of it look away i hate myself
i think everyone on this entire website has done this already so i don't think there's anyone left for me to tag, but if you haven't already, then feel free to consider yourself tagged here!
#this is a mix of my scrivener files and my notes app files where i put a lot of my initial ideas#also i would have loved to have sent asks in about all your wips but i feel like everyone has already asked about everything#since i missed it all due to being inactive bc of work#julian did a tag game#julian's ask games#julian writes#my wips
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?
Guadeloupe! (It’s a tiny French island in the Caribbean.) It’s warm and beautiful, and that’s the place that made me appreciate the beauty of hiking, even though I never did manage to get into it after that x)
It’s also where part of my family is from so that helps too :D
Something you’re proud of yourself for?
I’m really proud of how much I’ve grown as a person these past few years. I’m proud of the fact that I’m still standing even though it sometimes felt like I wouldn’t be able to.
Also I’m proud of my writing to be honest. I think that’s the most solid ‘I’m good at this’ part of my life and it was the cornerstone of me building any kind of self esteem. I hope I get even better as time goes by :D
Favorite books?
I think the Hunger Games books are the ones I reread the most often (sidebar: I absolutely recommend you read Spin Control by Trovia in this fandom. It’s still pretty high on my ‘Introducing people to quality fanfic’ list!)
That being said, Pride and Prejudice is also a big favorite! A lot of my favorite stories are fanfics, though, it’s my favorite medium x)
Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?
My cats, my goddaughter, my niece, my friends 😊
Favorite thing about your culture?
The fact that we’re used to pushing back against authority (make fun of the French all you want for striking all the time, we sure do it a lot and even too much at times, but sometimes it’s useful to have a coworker who’s not afraid to be frank xD)
Also: how affordable books are! I miss paying only 5-10 euros for pocket-format paperbacks, especially when I can’t find anything under 13 dollars here ;_;
When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?
Last year, and late in the year at that! Although whether I’ve really joined the fandom is debatable, given how bad I am at socializing, but I’ve definitely written fic xD
What can I say, I watched this show twice before I caught the fic/shipping bug for it! Now I’m trying to decide whether I can actually watch The Pacific without damaging my mental health because I am not a gore fan xD
Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?
None so far, though I’m still looking around for Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron’s book…and I’d like to get my hands on David Webster’s book as well, if I can. Not that the others aren’t interesting to me, but I’d say these are the two at the top of my list.
Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?
To my own surprise, I had a hard time deciding between Webster, Guarnere and Liebgott for this one! But I think David is the one that rotates the most in my mind, and I do absolutely love his whole “Can you believe I said that?” bullshit when he gets shot like, man what are your priorities xD
Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?
Well, I’m coming up on a million words of fanfiction published on AO3, the most recent works being largely Band of Brothers fic, but I also occasionally fiddle on Canva to make fic covers!
Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?
I think I still have to answer Tom Hiddleston, and Thor (the first one).
Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?
I do love Mika’s lyrics in Rio: “Maybe I’ll be myself when I’m somebody else.”
It really resonates with me, and if I’m going to tattoo any words on my body it’ll be those.
Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?
When I go cross eyed I can make it look like my eyes move independently like a chameleon’s.
If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?
Beta reader, cheerleader, whichever you prefer! I have too many fics on the backburner tbh! Right now I’m trying to wrestle the one where modern AU!Don Malarkey and David Webster met on Grindr, disliked each other too much to actually sleep together, but accidentally become ride or die friends anyway x)
Three things that make you smile?
I’m going to count my cats as only one thing, even though there’s three of them :P
Whenever my students compliment me.
The smell of rain on a hot road or warm grass.
And, because I can: swimming in a river/lake it hot weather.
Any nicknames you like?
I would describe myself as largely indifferent to nicknames on the whole? I’m fine with Matt tbh, I picked it myself and it’s only one syllable so it works x)
I do have two people who refer to me by a (different) nickname though, and I would feel very strange if they stopped ;_;
List some people you love to see around on tumblr!
Well, @almost-a-class-act, who tagged me, is a pretty nice presence :D I'm also always happy to see posts from @formerlyknownas-delight, @liesmyth (enjoying the Italian blogging at the moment even if I don't understand most of it), @lectorel, @nemainofthewater and @talysalankil
Lately, I've also really enjoyed the works of @renegadepublishing, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @atlaculture
What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?
Freeze and try to be as quiet as possible? Probably slowly kill myself with stress over my cats’ wellbeing.
Favorite movie?
The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but also The Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.
Do you like horror movies?
No D:
Tag list: @ronsparky @cinnamonmalarkey @1waveshortofashipwreck and whoever else wants to do this :D
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fool For Love
Pairing: George Luz x Female OC
Word count: 5144
Tone: Friends to lovers, pining, angst, late-night phone calls, risky decisions, is it too late?
Summary: She’s more than a little tired at work, but then he comes on the line, after all this time, and she can’t hang up. They get to talking about their days in the war and upcoming reunions, and as it becomes increasingly clear she is hiding from him (and everyone), he resolves to bring her back to them as best he knows how—with his unerring love.
Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @onlyyouexisthere
I originally wrote this with Nixon but found it worked much better with George; I was also inspired to write more of George and Talbert’s friendship by the scene in “Points” where they play cards and George’s soothes Tab’s unease. This is also partially a fix-it fic, I must admit, because Talbert all but disappeared from Easy post-war. In this fic, he sticks around.
"Yes, that's exactly it."
George peered down the hall, spying the phone that was usually latched neatly over the kitchen counter now placed to Talbert's ear. His friend nodded slowly, listening to the speaker on the other end.
"Right, you're... busy."
A muffled something from the other end that might have been 'got to run' or 'give him my love', George couldn't quite tell. Tab swiveled, shuffling over the threshold into the hall. He peered one way, missing the eavesdropper, then spotted him down the other. Waving George over, he pressed the phone to his shoulder.
"Somebody from Easy's on the line. Come say 'hi'."
George grinned. It would be good to hear from one of the guys. The annual reunion was swiftly approaching, and the time of year had rolled about when he really missed the men and the camaraderie they had shared. Sloughing off his jacket, he draped it over the countertop stools as he came up to the phone. Tab held up a finger as he fronted an introduction.
"Yeah, hey, do you have another minute?" A beat, listening. "Great. I've got somebody here who wants to speak to you." A half-smile. "Yes, it's George. Uh-huh. Okay. Talk soon."
"Heya."
Silence for a beat and George had made up his mind to repeat the greeting when:
"Hey, George."
His heart leaped into his throat, and he smoothed his palm over the receiver, swallowing hard.
"Leah." He pinched his nose. "Uh, Corporal Hedgecomb."
"Hey. Hey, how are you?"
"Good." Better now that I'm hearing your voice again.
Had she always sounded this weary? For most of the war, yes, he remembered well, but he would have thought peacetime would restore her spirits and vigor. He missed the lightheartedness she'd born all throughout Toccoa and Aldbourne, despite Sobel, despite the war, despite the back-breaking sexism she had to carry on top of it all every damn day.
"Look, George, I'd love to chat, but I'm real busy-"
"Please don't go."
He could almost picture her pursing her lips, those sweet lips, the ones he should have kissed so long ago.
"Oh, alright."
She leaned away from the receiver and called to someone nearby, her voice distant as she pleaded with an apparent coworker to take up her station for another few minutes.
"I can stay a little longer."
"Good. Great." He searched for something to say that wouldn't scare her away. Realizing too late he hadn't returned the cordial question, he extended it now: "How're you, Corporal?"
"Busy," she said, and it seemed almost a joke but for the strain present in her voice when she answered. "It's not bad, though, work keeps me occupied."
He smiled fondly down at his shoes. "You haven't changed, then."
"What do you mean?"
"You said that a lot back in, uh, Mourmelon, and Hemmen."
"Did I? It seems like so long ago."
"But not long enough."
They both knew he meant the absence of war, not the distance its end put between them.
"Hear-hear. Oh, and George—you don't need to call me ‘Corporal’. We're not in the service anymore."
"Ah. Right."
A few seconds as George considered whether or not to just be out with it already or mention something less monumental. On one hand, he was running out of time, on the other, he could mess this all up with three little words and listen to the phone click off, his ardor dismissing him from her cares.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Leah asked, soothing the tension steadily rising like a high tide up to their chests and their hearts.
"It's good to hear your voice."
"Yeah, yours, too."
He glanced at a split envelope on the counter and gathered a question he hadn't realized was burning him up until that very instant.
"About the reunion...?"
"Yeah, yeah. I got your letter, and the one from Sink, with the fancy seal and the flag stamp and the big, official heading-"
"You're not coming."
A long, long pause, broken only by a sigh that barely bled through the wiring.
"Yeah."
"That's not really an answer, Leah."
"No, I'm not coming."
"Why not?"
"I- it just doesn't- it wouldn't work out."
George squared his jaw, scared she was implying what he feared she always might.
"I mean, business really kicks up around here this time of the year, and I don't know if they can spare me. Not that I'm vital to the department, or anything, but any personnel they can keep will help."
"Uh-huh."
At her slow sigh, he gathered she'd easily picked up on his skepticism.
"What's the real reason, Leah?"
She didn't answer for a good fifteen seconds. George attended his watch to distract himself from the weight of her silence.
"George, I'm sorry, but d'you really think any of the fellas wanna remember they served with a broad? No."
"What? That's bullshit! Why the hell would you think that?"
"Watch your mouth, buster, you're a bad influence."
"What?"
"If you go off like that, I'll do it, too, and I can't be swearing like a sailor anymore. I've gotta be all proper in the office."
"What about out of it?"
"Since when am I ever not at work, these days?" She scoffed wryly, drily. "Nevermind."
"Corporal Hedgecomb, I swear to God, if I have to send Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron to kidnap you from whatever martyr's pit you've dug for yourself, I will."
She managed a chuckle, and he could tell it was more for his sake than her own. "Nah, no more foxholes for me. Or for you."
"Or Bill or Babe."
"Don't send them," she warned. "They've got families of their own, right? Kiddos to tend to and others on the way, not to mention their wives, the lovely ladies with enough smarts to handle the three brain cells those two split amongst themselves."
George snorted. "So, no envoys. Alright, I'll drive up there myself and take Perconte with me. God knows he could use the break. Can you believe he doesn't even get Christmas off?"
"No!"
"I know, right? It's the post office, not the goddamn army-"
"No, no, it's not..." Leah audibly cleared her throat. "I meant about you, um..."
"Oh."
"What I mean to say is it's alright. I don't need the persuasion in person."
"Without it, you won't come to the reunion."
"With it, I'm more likely to stay put. So we're at an impasse."
"Alright, fine, but still, you never answered my question."
"Your question?"
"Why the heck-" He hoped she was smiling. "-would you think the men wouldn't want to remember you?"
"... If I was a man, it'd be different."
"Yeah, no shit, but I just don't get it, Leah. You were everybody's sister, cousin—heck, mother. Without you, Jackson wouldn't still have his face and Hoobler would be missing a whole lot more than a foot."
"But-"
"No. You really should come, doll, you haven't been to the last two."
"And nobody but Lip's seemed to care," she blurted in a voice small even for her five-foot-one frame. "Ignore that, please."
"No, I definitely will not." George glowered at the begonias in the calendar that hung opposite the kitchen counter. "Whoever told you I didn't care is a lying sonuva-"
"George."
It was by her tone that he abruptly understood: no one had imposed this opinion on her, she had conjured it for herself.
His cheeks flamed, akin to his heart. "Goddamnit, Leah, the only people I care as much about as you are Tab and Lip, and you know with them, it's not- it's not the same."
He knew he'd said too much when she didn't try a joke or a chuckle or even a dismissive cough. Instead, she remained silent. A muted voice, another woman's, asked her something and she replied she'd be there in a minute. Her voice returned to him as she brought it back to the receiver.
"I know you tried to find me, once."
George tried and failed to steady his breathing. He hoped Leah couldn't hear just how anxious he'd become.
"How'd you figure that out?"
"You sent Lipton to my door with the biggest bouquet in the state of New York. Now, I've never seen a man more committed to his wife than the good lieutenant, and he doesn't even live up here. What the hell could he be doing so far north other than carrying out some favor for somebody we both knew?"
"And you figured it was me?"
"I didn't have to think too hard on it once I saw the flowers."
"You remember them?"
"They were lilacs, George," she all but whispered. "You're the only one I ever told about those being my favorite."
George sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his shoulders stiffening as the breeze against the roof of his mouth went straight to his brain.
"Lip told me you'd just about vanished."
"I wasn't home that day."
A frown creased his brow. "But you saw the flowers."
"A neighbor did, out the window-"
"Don't lie to me, Leah." He set his jaw, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "You never were a good liar."
"Fine! I was there and I didn't open the door. Happy?"
"You hid from him."
The accusation caused her to deflate, signifying its truth. He could sense the change even from the receiving end, her face invisible to his eyes, miles and miles away.
"I thought it was for the best-"
Feeling unable to endure another voice crack from the cage of weary isolation Leah had forced herself into, George interrupted.
"The best? For who?"
"For you!"
"But not for you."
She choked on her words and coughed to regain them.
"I'm not some pretty little housewife, George!” she cried. “The war was the only time in my life I felt reasonably put together, and like I could do something. Even better, something worth doing. Really, I don't know what I expected, after it was all over. I can hardly keep myself afloat, nevertheless- no, shit, no, pretend you didn't hear that."
"So that's it." His finger, twirling the spiraling cord around each knuckle, stilled. "You won't come because you don't want their pity."
"Or yours," she reminded with a sternness he knew she rarely possessed. "I want them to remember me better."
"If they can't see you're still our beloved-" My beloved. "-Leah, with a chocolate bar always at hand for some poor homesick sap and the best hugs in the company, then they've all gone crazy and they don't deserve the honor of knowing you."
"The honor?" She scoffed. "Come on, George."
"I mean it. They'll be glad—no, overjoyed—to see you, and if they're not, then- then I'll-"
"What am I supposed to do, pretend everything's fine? While they're off getting married and having families and buying houses and securing steady, profitable occupations, I'm wasting away in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, so far up New York state, you'd be surprised it wasn't Canada, trying not to end up on the streets and so bitterly alone I've started writing poetry! I’m writing sonnets, George, sonnets!”
Leah laughed a sob. George was already reaching for his car keys.
"I'll be there tonight."
"What?"
"I will be there-"
"No. No, you won't."
"Yes, I will. I don't care if it's a five-and-a-half-hour drive. I don't care if you're scared. I don't care if I'm the last person you want to see."
Silence for long enough he guessed she might have hung up. He'd begun to fiddle with the left cuff of his button-down when Leah finally spoke.
"You know how long it would take you to get here."
"What kind of enamored moron would I be if I didn't?"
She laughed, and George wished he could believe it was the call signal that made her sound so hopeless.
"Only if you bring Tab along with you," she said, and he got the sense she was only playing along. "Roll down the windows, the fresh air'll do him good."
"It's December. He'd rather sit in a sauna for five hours."
"Remind me why he still hasn't moved out to California yet?"
"Me," George joked half honestly. "But hey, you're getting me sidetracked. So I'll bring Tab... anything else you want me to pick up on the road?"
"Um." A pause, amid which he could guess she tried to swallow but found her throat too dry. "No."
"If you say so." He checked his watch again, something of a nervous habit. "Y'know, I could probably make it in five hours. The traffic's bound to be lighter the later it gets."
"Uh-huh. You might have to wake me, depending on how late you get here."
"You won't wait up?"
"I work three shifts for two different jobs, George. Sleep is a blessing."
"Right." He swallowed. "Well, you can call in sick tomorrow. To both jobs. And maybe for all the days after that."
"No. No, I can't do that."
"You don't think I'll actually come."
"No, I don't, because I'm really not worth the trip."
Her words sounded like a hammer falling upon a bare anvil, the elements rebounding off of each other with a deafening, heartwrenching clang.
"Leah?"
"Yeah?"
"There's one thing I won't stand from you, and it's that kind of bullshit."
"Wha- what?"
"Don't ever talk like that about my future Mrs. Luz again."
She inhaled sharply into the phone. George squeezed his wrist and prayed that what he was about to do wasn't the most reckless undertaking of his life.
"I'll see you tonight. Probably with a ring. No, not probably. Definitely."
Leah squeaked.
"Damnit, I love you, and I'm not about to stand here while your neverending, wonderful, harmful selflessness keeps you away from the great thing we could be. And from your friends! And happiness! But mostly me. Because I'm selfish like that. But hey, if it means saving you-"
He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
"-then I'll be the most selfish man in the world."
"George-"
"I love you. See you in five hours."
He shoved the phone so jaggedly into its cusp that he missed the latch entirely and the implement took a bungee jump toward the kitchen floor. Yelping a curse, he swung it back up and placed it where it belonged, stepping back from the counter with a long sigh. He glanced at the liquor cabinet above the sink in wistfulness but didn't bother to address it further. He'd drive better if he could see straight. Still, the thought of going to her like he'd wanted to all these months and the absurdity of what he was about to do combined were more than enough to make him dizzy. Tab might have to take over for the last of the journey—or, even better, the first, the middle, and the last.
Speaking of the devil's best friend, he'd vanished upstairs to the third-floor study. He never listened in when someone made phone calls like this, even if they were from his own line. Kind of funny, how George wouldn't think twice about eavesdropping whereas Tab went out of his way to avoid overhearing.
"Floyd! Floyd, get down here!"
Swift, steady footsteps, barely preceded by the scrambling scuffs of a chair being shoved backward.
"What is it?" queried his friend from the top of the stairs.
"No time to explain, just get down here!"
Tab proceeded to make his way speedily down, taking the steps two at a time. He followed George around the corner to the garage door, calling his name with another question mark to follow when he received no direct answer. George spun the car keys around so they pressed into his palm, feeling the metal indent his skin as he opened and pushed through the narrow aperture.
"I'm going to go bring my future home, and you're coming with me."
Tab's sigh was almost feigned as he reached back through the doorway to retrieve his coat as well as his friend's. "George, it's almost seven p.m. And I have work tomorrow, as do you."
"So? Love won't wait, my friend." He twirled the keys again and tossed them over the hood of the first of the three vehicles before them. "Besides, you get to drive."
Tab shook his head. "I get to?"
George flashed him a lopsided smile and slid into the passenger's seat. After a beat's more hesitation, his friend followed his prediction and joined him in the car. Tab turned the ignition and they each settled into their accommodations, preparing for the lengthy drive ahead. The garage door rumbled upward—only the most up-to-date technology for friends of the Nixons—and they pulled out into the fading light, the wet afternoon bleeding into a thankfully drier evening.
"How much did you have to drink before deciding on this mad chase?" Tab asked as he leaned over the backseat to watch where he was reversing.
"None."
"None?"
"None," George repeated, and whatever he'd mustered in his tone to guarantee the truth softened something in Tab's tired eyes. His friend sat up a little straighter, and the energy so often sapped from him by hours clerking behind a desk began to return in increments as they drove. At first, they spoke of the usual things; the clearing clouds, an unruly driver here and there, the meaning of life and what changes peace had brought to their world in the past three years.
"Three," George mused after a time, "isn't that a strange number to decide on a reunion? One, I understand for a high school, two for a college, but three doesn't fit anything. A birthday, maybe, but-"
"It's one for me," Tab reminded him with no shortage of gentle reprehension. "I skipped the last two."
"So did she. But she won't be skipping this time, and neither will you."
"... Yeah. About that—what's your plan, here?"
"With what?"
Tab glanced off the road for just an instant to shoot George that disbelieving eyebrow that had always been able to pry any damn thing out of him, all the way back to Toccoa.
"I know, I know, with Leah." George swallowed. "Leah Hedgecomb."
"Yeah, with Leah."
George waved his hand in front of his face as if reading aloud a banner. "Hopefully the future Mrs. Leah Lowry Hedgecomb Luz." He couldn't help a small smile. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He snapped, remembering something vital to his mission. "Oh, shit, right, I've gotta get a- Why are you looking at me like that?"
Tab's spine had gone so taut, it almost seemed to be imitating the straightness of the lampposts they were driving beneath on this long, northbound route. The light from each lamp faded into and back out of the car within a half-second. Once the darkness of the night truly settled it, they would seem ever the brighter and the quicker, keeping the men awake and alert but allowing them no more than a passing glance at each other's expressions.
"Does she know that?"
"Know what?"
"That you're gunning for her to be your wife?"
"As of, uh-" George studied his wristwatch. "-an hour and ten minutes ago, yes."
"Jesus Christ."
His daredevil friend gave a low whistle. "Well, now I know this is a crazy plan. What else could make the pious Floyd Talbert take the savior's name in vain?"
"Oh, come on, Luz. Me? Pious?"
George snickered, and Tab sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry, but you gotta admit this is nuts! You're in love with a woman you haven't seen in a year—a woman who's been purposefully avoiding you, I might add."
"She loves me, too."
"What?"
"She told me back in Austria the day she left." George thumbed his belt loops anxiously. "She told me she loved me and I oughta come find her after the war if I felt the same."
"And you did, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but we never spoke of it again." George licked his lips, then confessed, "I have to believe she meant it. It's all I've got, Floyd."
"You need to stop for a minute and think this through."
"And you," his determined compatriot contested, "need to shut up and turn left."
"Why?" Tab asked, nonetheless rounding the requested corner.
"Because we need to make a detour to Cartier before they close at eight-thirty, and right now, it's eight-o'-one."
"Woah, woah, woah."
Tab pulled over to the side of the otherwise empty street. He shifted the car into park and turned as fully as he could in his seat toward George.
"Are you serious about this?"
"Floyd," George replied softly, almost timidly, "this is the first time I haven't second-guessed myself in three years. Yes, I'm serious."
His friend considered, glancing out the windshield onto the pavement and gravel of the road and its side.
"Besides, this is partially your fault."
"What?"
"You know I've loved her since Benning."
Tab's brow twitched. "Well, yes..."
"And you put me on the phone with her just like that, like you knew it was the best thing for us both."
"Um..."
"Come on, Floyd," George pleaded, flashing a smile, "help me out just this once-"
Tab visibly stifled a snort of laughter.
"-and you can be the best man—nay, the officiant—at our wedding."
"Sometimes, I think you've finally gone mad." Tab smiled as he shifted the car back into drive. "Alright. Let's go get the ring, and then the girl."
George let out a whoop, tossing his hands up and smacking them on the ceiling. He winced, shaking out his fingers, though his grin never faltered.
"By the way, I meant it, about the wedding."
"I'm not ordained."
"So? I don't particularly care what denomination ya are, so long as you can marry us."
"... I don't know if that's legal, Luz."
"What, freedom of religion?" His friend shot him a skeptical look. "So sayeth the Quaker's best friend."
"What- George, he's not-"
Tab huffed and went quiet, giving in (and up).
"I'll look it up and figure it out when we get back," he relented. "Dick probably knows something or somebody..."
George smirked, turning his face toward the window to hide the true warmth of his enthusiasm.
"Yeah. He prob'ly does."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leah meant to stay up, to wait. She knew she'd feel like the worst idiot in the world should morning come and she was still sitting in her dark living room, alone; nevertheless, she allowed herself hope and trust for the first time in many years. She tried to keep her eyes open, but seeing the toll of midnight after a sixteen-hour shift proved a difficult task, and she drifted off in her old, raggedy armchair with a blanket over her legs and one shoe half-off her foot.
When the rapping on her door startled her awake, it was precisely 12:46 a.m. When she stepped up to the door, it was 12:50. When she gathered up enough courage to actually turn the knob and pull, it was 12:52.
"-so let's just go and come back in the morning, she's clearly not-"
The two men standing under her porch light, their heads and shoulders dusted with snow, froze and stared at her. Talbert's hand dropped from the back of his neck. George looked like he was trying to convince himself she was more than a memory.
"... home."
"George?"
He stumbled forward and she couldn't help but lurch into his embrace.
"What- what are you doing here?!" she gasped, wide awake now that he was really here with her, his arms sending shockwaves up and down her body. "George, you drove all this way?"
"I drove," Tab suggested sheepishly, raising his hand in a sheepish wave, and Leah forced herself to let go of George to hug him.
"I didn't believe- You actually- How? Why?"
"He loves you," Tab chuckled, nodding at George. "Thought that was pretty clear by now. You mind if I come in? I thought it couldn't get any colder than Rhode Island, but sheesh, New York's something else..."
Leah started nodding without really understanding what he'd asked, and he started humming “White Christmas” as he stepped past her and into the semi-heated house. Left alone on the porch, George and Leah stared at each other for a beat. Once they'd remembered the other was truly here, they all but leaped back into each other's arms. Leah's chest felt tight. She heaved each exhalation into his shoulder like it just might be her last. How long ago was it that such a fear could become their reality at the drop of a hairpin, or, in their case, the flick of a grenade pin? Too recent, too fresh.
"Hey, hey, catch your breath," George said, stepping back to cup her cheeks in his hands, scanning her face worriedly. "You cold? You want my scarf? My coat? My sweater? Hell, I'll give you my socks, if you want, though I don't think you do-"
"You came."
"Of course, I came," he cut himself off. "I brought Tab, just like I promised, and a ring to boot."
Leah flushed. "You didn't."
George dropped down on one knee.
"I did."
Leah squeaked. George beamed to hide the terrific pounding of his heart.
"Leah? Sweetheart?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Marry me."
She couldn't seem to speak, but she was nodding so fast George could only take it to mean yes. He put the ring on her finger, and she promptly flung herself into his arms and knocked them both off the porch into the nearest snowbank. George burst into such laughter that it woke the neighbors.
"Screw them," he muttered as the complaining started from an upstairs window. "I'm not afraid of nobody and nothing anymore."
"Oh, yeah?" Leah giggled, still half-certain she was dreaming, shivering a little. "When'd you get so brave?"
George smiled, drawing his thumb tenderly across her cheek to brush away a wispy curl.
"When I got you."
A beat.
"You will marry me, right?"
Leah turned and kissed his cheek, then his lips, and George felt like he could take on the world.
"I love you," she whispered, "and I've waited six years for you to ask me that question, so yes, George Luz, yes, I will marry you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You drove how far to get to her?"
Leah and George shared an amused smile. No matter how many times they told this story, there was always someone who'd only heard snippets and couldn't quite believe it until they got the straight facts from the source itself. This time—most entertainingly—it was Speirs, their former captain. The humor of his confusion was only added to by Lipton, who was standing beside him with such an expression of This is the farthest thing from a surprise, Ronald that it made Leah stifle a laugh against her hand.
"As far as I had to," George answered Speirs, squeezing Leah's hip affectionately. "I'd have driven all the way to California if I had to. Up through Canada, down into Mexico, or all the way into South America—I'd go anywhere. I'd even sneak aboard a ship if she was somewhere overseas."
"So... how far?"
"Five hours," Leah chuckled. "Five hours and them some, 'cause he had to stop to get the ring."
"And I was the one behind the wheel," Tab reminded with a twinkle in his eye, and George lit up, delighted that he'd made it to the reunion after all.
"And you still get to officiate, Floyd!"
"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me when I'm needed, and I'll be there."
"Huh." Speirs paused to think, then took a sip from his whiskey glass. "I'll admit, I never pictured..." He waved at George and Leah, though not at all rudely. "This."
George's arm was slung around Leah's waist and her cardigan was tied just above his hips—the only thing more obviously signifying their relationship was the silver band gleaming on Leah's left hand. Leah pressed a kiss to George's cheek, and as Speirs shook his head, astonished, George let loose a delirious peal of laughter.
"Stop that," Leah giggled, ruffling his hair. "You sound like you're already drunk."
"Oh, honey, I am."
She quirked a brow. "Oh, yeah? Since when? You’ve only had one- oop!"
He'd dipped her toward the floor, his lips ghosting over hers, and when she realized she was not, in fact, falling, she smiled.
"Drunk off you, sweetheart," he whispered as their friends started to holler, noticing the couple's open display of affection.
"Then kiss me, Mr. Luz."
"Happily, Mrs. Luz."
"Wait-" She put her finger against his lips, teasing him. "I'm not the missus just yet."
He groaned. "Why must you remind me? Cruel woman..."
A slight shift in his stance let Leah know he was starting to strain himself by holding her there, so she grabbed him by the collar and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, bolstered by their friends' whistling and cheering.
"I don't think I can wait much longer," George admitted as he brought his fiancée back up to stand. "Literally and figuratively. What with you in that dress, and everybody here—heck, why don't we do it tonight?"
"Do it? Get married, you mean?"
"Get married, run away, honeymoon, hook the moon and drag it down to earth," George hummed, swaying her to an imaginary tune. "You name it, I'll make it happen, sweetheart."
Leah looked at him, and her eyes, brimming with tears of gratitude, struck him with so much love he felt faint.
"So? Whaddaya say, my dearest Leah?"
"Yes. Tonight!"
"Huzzah!" George leaned over his shoulder. "Floyd! It would seem your services are needed much sooner than planned!"
Tab looked up from the buffet table, a slice of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. George and Leah shared a look, then burst into teary laughter, holding on to each other with no intent to ever let go.
"I think they're really gonna do it."
"About time." Dick Winters sidled up to his friend, then nodded at the cake in his hand. "Is that any good?"
Still watching George and Leah, Tab wordlessly passed the cake to Dick, who, in turn, Dick handed it off to a salivating Frank Perconte.
"Dick," Tab queried, "do you know how to officiate an elopement?"
"Not officially-"
"Didn't think so."
"-but I know a guy."
"Of course, you do."
They eyed the happy couple, now dancing to the music Lipton had conjured from the radio, and shared a small smile despite themselves.
"Think you could get him here within the next half-hour?"
Dick checked his watch.
"Uh..."
"Correction: think you could call him up and have him teach me this whole honorary pastor business on the fly?"
Smiling, Dick started for the payphone on the other end of the bar.
"Now that, I can do."
#george luz#george luz x oc#george luz fanfiction#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfiction#band of brothers one shot#hbo war show#hbo war show one shot#hbo war show fanfiction#one shot#fanfiction
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
tumblr nuked my answer to your ask @ronsparky ANYWAY--
9. worst part of canon
I've talked about this at length here, here, here, here, and here!
and I had another post about why I don't like the tonal shift between ep.9 and ep. 10 of bob but I can't find it so I'll get back to you on that!!
but yeah. I'm still salty about the Augusta Chiwy thing. like. it's like the BoB writers didn't even try 🙄🙄🙄 oops, maybe they didn't. I mean, they were already operating on the logic that if Stephen Ambrose didn't bother to exercise proper historical research, why should they? 🙄🙄🙄
10. worst part of fanon
because fanfiction is the medium in which I interact the most with fandom, the ills of it are the ones I encounter the most. some of ya'll don't know proper characterization if it bit you in the ass. it's like. did we even watch the same show? each one has 10 episodes each!! how could you POSSIBLY get any of this wrong????
sometimes, you read a fic, and already you can tell the author has an agenda just by how terribly wrong a fic is. they villainize random boys so much to make others look better. the amount of times I go "he would NOT say that!" is infinity.
17. there should be more of this type of fic/art
ensemble fics with stupid grp of friends level shenanigans. exploration of platonic relationships fics (though there are a few of these already that I really like, I want more). queer platonic relationships. POC OCs; asexual, aromantic, lesbian, and trans OCs. there are a few already that I very much like, I know this. I have a trans OC myself. idc. I want more.
.......... honestly sometimes I get the feeling that some hbo war writers are afraid to make aroace OCs, trans OCs or POC OCs bc they themselves are cis, allosexual/alloromantic, or white and therefore they might get it wrong. to which I say banish the thought and EXPLORE, damnit.
also like. let's trans some genders. I've said this before. but I think. we should be allowed!! to trans some dead american soldier's genders. more transmasc paratroopers!! more transmasc marines!! c'mon now.
21. part of canon you think is overhyped
lewis nixon's alcoholism. my dude. apart from dick winters, EVERYBODY was an alcoholic, ok? harry welsh had to be dragged out of enemy fire bc he was passed out drunk in the middle of the road. they were ALL alcoholic. ALL of them.
I'm not saying stop exploring lewis nixon as an alcoholic, oh no. I love that shit. I'm saying start exploring EVERYONE ELSE as an alcoholic. could be fun!
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii I wanted to know , did helaena and aemond died on the same day ? I saw many antis on Twitter claiming they don't and helaena die few days later after aemond died. Now antis saying the Rise of dragons books has timeline and they dont die the same day
saying RoTD says aemond and helaena died on different days.They even contacted the mod to edited the wiki page.
You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders - the most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia" - but only slightly less well-known is this: You believed George RR Martin's canon is rock-solid!
In all seriousness.
I've been apart of the ASoIaF fandom for going on thirteen years - before the show. I picked up the books the moment I heard that Lena Headey got cast in some pilot for a new fantasy show project called "Game of Thrones" - being a huge "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" fan I had to check it out.
In all twelve and a half years ... never once has GRRM ever settled on one thing or the other. He has constantly retconned and changed canon to fit whatever gaff or inconsistency he put in the later books. The history of "The Dance of the Dragons" has changed so many fucking times in the last ten years that it'll make your head spin. Rhaenyra went from being an well established tyrant and villain in the ASoIaF Historical canon - written into the fucking books for Twenty Years! - to being a grey character, to now being the protagonist of the story.
Alicent was introduced as a ghost that allegedly haunts the Queen's chambers in Cersei's POV chapters, described by Cersei as a former queen who loved her Kingsguard and leapt off the balcony when he died - Cersei thinks that she could relate. This is followed earlier by Jaime's POV talking about Criston Cole who was loyal to his queen to the very end - a man he admires. You're supposed to but two and two together.
Now, some Black-Stan or Reply Guy will come into this post and go "Na-ugh, asshole! That's not in the books!"
Yeah, not anymore, mother fucker! It was taken out of the book in later printings once GRRM got the development deals with HBO to do "House of the Dragon" and started writing "Fire & Blood" as a pitch bible for his tv show ideas.
Do you know how many times "The Disaster of Summerhall" has been rewritten and changed by GRRM? Do you know that in the original book it is said that Rhaegar was the sole survivor of the fire, saved by Jenny of Oldstones - and that he saw something that night that made him realize the coming of the "Long Night"? Now, GRRM changed it so that Rhaegar was born during the disaster. Once more the new printings of the book changed the text to fit with what was written in "The World of Ice and Fire".
Even the "Fire & Blood" on the shelves right now is not the same book that got released five or six years ago. Whole section are rewritten to gel with "House of the Dragon".
All I can say is welcome to the fold, Nonny. Get used to smug jerk-offs coming into your DMs and Asks claiming that canon which has been established for nearly a decade is now not canon and that you're spreading "Misinformation" or "Fanfiction" when its simply that Evil Santa Clause changed his mind again and they got the new update before you.
#House of the Dragon#Helaena Targaryen#Aemond Targaryen#Helaemond#Alicole#Alicent Hightower#Criston Cole
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
when i was on livejournal i used to review, like, everything i watched or read (bc i did not have a job). i kind of miss that so here are some notes about some of the things i read/watched in january!
the hour (s1 - rewatch): i feel like unless you were In It you can't understand the hold the hour had over us when it was airing. whishaw! romola! dominic west as a rake who wants to Learn! the looks! the fonts! jamie parker and anna chancellor and andrew scott and joshua mcguire!! the mechanics of how we bear witness!!!! nobody not even the rain has such small hands!!!! jesus christ. anyway here's 1k of space stuff from yuletide 2012
justified (s1&2 - rewatch): inspired by @love-leah's vital boyd/raylan fanfictions honestly, this whole show should be about boyd/raylan. i remember first time around i was very into the tim stuff because we were living that hbo war miniseries life and honestly the episode where he has to babysit raylan is still very good.
eyes wide shut: for some reason i watched this like new year's morning?? anyway i had fun with that one nicole kidman monologue and the like gaping chasm of blank panic under tom cruise's good guy mask. if you have seen barry lyndon should i watch barry lyndon?
mr malcolm's list: zawe ashton forever obviously!! very sweet for oliver jackson-cohen to be allowed to be funny for once, sope disiru can do literally anything. i rented this on amazon and i wish i had just bought it lol
white noise: obviously the supermarket dance sequence is the best part. idk i feel weird about don delillo ever since i had to read out a fisting scene from cosmopolis as a 17 year old virgin in english extension class 🙃
evil under the sun: my first ustinov poirot, worth the price of admission for the incredible diana rigg and maggie smith bitchfight energy (including an amazingly agressive performance of you're the top). i would like to go to an island please
emma (2020) (rewatch): i love it So much!! everything i said in this deranged letterboxd review still stands!!
aftersun: mescal and corio both wonderful, i can't get over calum's despair developing like a polaroid
the sting: good old-fashioned homoerotic fun etc. paul newman's eyes are So blue
best in show: i watched the christopher guest mockumentary trilogy thing with my sister and this was our favourite. the dogs!!! also there's a thing catherine o'hara does with her knee that killed me
babylon: i loved the parts that were about making films and didn't care for most of the rest of it! could really have done with less of a lecture about why cinema is important
the fabelmans: by contrast i loved the stuff here about why this one specific person is drawn to make films! paul dano has my heart forever and michelle williams' performance did not really work for me whoops
kate beaton, ducks: two years in the oil sands: hark a vagrant was such a touchstone for me, i read this all in one sitting and immediately wanted to give it to three of my friends - her anger is so palpable
19 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://mobile.twitter.com/chrkrose/status/1602015380100333569?s=46&t=aFL21jC0F5rnIw-bwaWIGw
IMO,the Targ stans constantly gaslighting themselves and then throwing tantrums when their headcanons get destroyed. Like can they not argue he was pining did his teenage niece he groomed while they say in the same breath how they love N so much and don’t want her to be groomed by D since she’s so young. I mean R in the show is N’s age(when N gets with D I mean)by the time the scandal happens. Not to mention she’s even younger when D’s creeping on her. Ofc him seeing R as extension of V whom he’s actually in love with makes considering R is a child at the begging of the show. He probably saw this as the ideal opportunity to groom her to be what he wishes he had or still had with V it’s creepy AF. Them also trying to make Ryan into a misogynist to justify their ridiculous mealtdowns when you can criticise the show’s writing choices but what he actually said is that DAEMON sees her as extension of V which makes perfect sense considering how he treats the women in his life. Pls stop gaslighting others to buy into your BS just because your analytical skills are shit.Anyone who watched the show not through shipper googles would see what Ryan’s saying’s true. I know the GOT fandom got really bad in its last treads with the Jonerys vs Jonsa ship wars but the HOTD fandom has turned the show into a CW show where all they care is their incest ships and anyone who shows interest in other characters or want to properly analyse the story is harassed for it. Then again these are the same people who thought D was young to say he wanted R to V at Laena’s funeral when he clearly felt emotional over his brother and was probably going to say he wanted to be by his side.Same with them making gifs showing how “wrong”V was about D not lusting for R but for his throne which he was wrong about not the R bit but the reason D went after R(which was to hurt V).If you watch the show from the very begging you’ll see what D wanted like R says he tells V that in the very first ep when his character description is about wanting V’s love. PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN (Male, 40-50) – The younger brother to King Viserys, Daemon wasn’t born with “naked ambition” for the throne despite being in line for it. He’s less methodical and more impetuous. Not to mention easily bored…stumbling from one distraction to the next with the subconscious yet singular obsession with earning the love and acceptance of his brother the king. Most of Daemon’s joy is found at sword-point. But even as the most experienced warrior of his time, he vacillates between vile and heroic, making him the true rogue of the series.https://redanianintelligence.com/2020/08/18/hbos-house-of-the-dragon-is-looking-to-cast-the-rogue-prince-daemon-targaryen/ This was from 2 years ago and what was on screen hadn’t contradicted that.Everything D does is in response to V from wanting to be his Hand to going to fight in the Stepstones to prove to himself he can manage without V’s help to going suicidal over V sending help to grooming R because he wants to get back at V.I know the stans have been writing fics of D being obsessed with R and pining for her through all the time jumps which ok write what you want if it gives you joy lol but in the show the only things he’s obsessed with is V and bringing the glory back to House Targ by being with R who he sees as replacement for his brother.
All I can say about these people is that they suffer from
Like read the books and watch the show. Rhaenyra is hardly the love of Daemon’s life. This is not some fanfiction nor is it the Daemyra show.
Daemon is about House Targaryen, Viserys, and Daemon. Rhaenyra is an extension of the first two. If anyone is “in love” with anyone in this relationship it’s Rhaenyra. She was groomed(and it’s hinted at in the books as well) by Daemon and molded into what he wanted(at least sexually), but Daemon was not in love with her like they are saying.
Daemon is a beautifully complex man. He’s morally gray. The fact that these people are trying to turn him into something he’s not it just 🫠 Cheering him on for being with one underage woman (Rhaenyra) then saying that’s wrong for the next(Nettles) is laughable. Honestly at this point I just want season 2 to hurry up.
Maybe seeing what plays on the show(hopefully sticking to book canon will make them see this). Who am I kidding these people are nuts 🥜 They are fine with avoiding canon/getting mad at the show creators for anything that doesn’t center around Daemyra 🙃
As I have said, Daemyra is now my #️⃣1️⃣ most hated ship(notp x1000). I’ve hated many a ship, but this one takes the 🎂 and it’s in large part due to the crazy stans. Forget about them being racist towards Nettles. They are literally insufferable.
I thought Jonaerys was bad(I’m a Jonsa stan), but these people are on another level. Like all they care about is Daemyra. You are right that they are trying to turn this into a CW show. I’m getting Riverfail flashbacks and I don’t like this. Are these people teenagers or something? Cause this is sad behavior for grown women.
Of course I have to reiterate this, not all Daemyra stans/shippers are horrible, but a large percentage seem to be 🫠
When Nettles 👩🏾🐑🐉 comes on screen I know the breakdowns and mental gymnastics🤸♀️ is gonna become x1000 worse
#i am tireeeed#ask#answered#this fandom is a god damn mess#ignore my rants guys#anti daemyra#hotd ask#anti rhaenyra targaryen#bnhotdask#bnhotdasks#bnasks#bnask
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
hello there! ♡
my name is sharline freire, my pronouns are she/her, i am brazilian, writer, journalist student, vegetarian and i love films, tv shows, fanfictions, books, comics and music.
my fav artists:
fav actors: jack quaid, diego luna, michael fassbender, matthew macfadyen, bill hader, colin farrell, adam scott;
fav directors: greta gerwig, céline sciamma, guillermo del toro, m. night shyamalan, paul thomas anderson, darren aronofsky, steven spielberg, jonas mekas;
fav writers: pedro bandeira, neil gaiman, elena ferrante, clarice lispector, taylor jenkins reid;
fav singers/bands: taylor swift, sufjan stevens, hozier, florence and the machine, lorde, mitski, the lumineers, the national, kodaline, glee cast, elton john, the beatles, imagine dragons, coldplay, bts;
my fav shows, films and characters:
my fav shows: good omens, doctor who, hannibal, sherlock bbc, house m.d, star trek tos, cobra kai, what we do in the shadows, dirk gently's holistic detective agency, glee, dexter, twin peaks, better call saul, succession, my brilliant friend, ozark, the office, the big bang theory, anne with an e, this is us, over the garden wall, queer eye, mr. bean;
my fav characters: sherlock holmes, john watson, the doctor, donna noble, aziraphale, crowley, tom wambsgans, magneto, johnny lawrence, daniel larusso, gregory house, james wilson, hannibal lecter, mr. spock, loki laufeyson, dexter morgan, dale cooper, benji dunn, obi-wan kenobi, cassian andor, mike wazowski, mr. bean;
my ships/couples:
aziraphale/crowley (good omens); canon!
clara/12th doctor (doctor who);
donna/10th+14th doctor (doctor who);
obs: aziraphale and crowley are non-binary and the doctor is agender/gender fluid so i don't put them in m/m or f/m.
my m/m ships:
sherlock/john (sherlock holmes);
house/wilson (house m.d);
charles/erik (x-men, marvel);
jim/dwight (the office);
daniel/johnny (karate kid, cobra kai);
jack/ennis (brokeback mountain); canon!
butcher/hughie (the boys);
tom/greg (succession, hbo);
spock/kirk (star trek);
finn/poe (star wars);
hannibal/will (hannibal, nbc); canon!
merlin/arthur (merlin, bbc);
dean/castiel (supernatural);
benji/ethan (mission impossible);
stede/edward (our flag means death); canon!
dirk/todd (dirk gently's holistic detective agency);
rajesh/howard (the big bang theory);
félix/nico (amor à vida); canon!
steve/tony (avengers, marvel);
abed/troy (community);
nick/gatsby (the great gatsby);
nandor/guillermo (what we do in the shadows);
connor/oliver (how to get away with murder); canon!
my f/f ships:
emma/regina (once upon a time);
eve/villanelle (killing eve); canon!
rory/paris (gilmore girls);
my f/m ships:
amy/sheldon (the big bang theory); canon!
sydney/carmy (the bear, fx);
kim/jimmy (better call saul); canon!
scully/mulder (x-files) canon!
lorelai/luke (gilmore girls); canon!
eleanor/chidi (the good place); canon!
gerri/roman (succession); ???
willa/connor (succession); canon!
leia/han (star wars); canon!
anyway, my ao3 account is sharlinefreire and my user on twitter is also sharlinefreire.
check my carrd of more informations: sharlinefreire.carrd.co
welcome to my tumblr! ♡
#about me#hi i am sharline#welcome to my tumblr#fixed post#pinned post#this is my life i guess#unfortunately i love queerbaiting im sorry
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
House of The Dragon s01 - Review
Time jumps
I understand why they have to happen, and I'm glad Martin told HBO to make the prelude of the Dance, since the ideia was to make the Dance happen right away.
And as a prelude, all that happened before the Dance was well put and made. Criston and Alicent relationship with Rhaenyra, Otto's intentions, Daemon and Rhaenyra, Viserys being a weak and good king, The Velaryons, The Strongs, the kids.... All that happened was well done. We could see why characters stood by team Green or team Black, we see what happened to characters have certain decisions and feelings towards each other.
Yet, as a fan, I wish I've got to see more of Alicent and Rhaenyra relationship before all goes to hell, Rhaenyra and Harwin, Daemon and Laena, Rhaenyra and Laena, the kids being kids and then turn into life long enemies. For me, they could easily make a season one of 10 episodes that would have ended right after the major time skip. And the in the 9 episode of the s2, Luke will be murdered and then the Dance as we know would started, and why episode 9? Because in the season finale we would see the aftermath of Luke's death and Aemond actions.
I feel that the showrunners may have fear that this structure wouldn't please the fans since the last seasons of GOT was about battle and high stakes and not the slow burning of the first ones.
Alicent and Rhaenyra
Let's be honest, they own the show. Doesn't matter how much we like Daemon, the kids, or any other characters, Alicent and Nyra are the main characters and carry the show on their backs, especially Nyra.
The show really took time to humanize Alicent, which is great, makes her an compelling villain (or a grey character in the eyes of many)
I think that the prophecy being one of Rhaenyra motivations for the throne was also good, gives her a sense of sacrificing for the "greater good". I don't like that they give it to Alicent too.
But I miss the "I want because I want" mentality that both have in the book. Anyway,They were the best part of the show and Olivia Cooke deserves a Emmy nomination for her work. Emma did a great job too but Alicent scenes was more of a heavy work, I think Emma will get more of those in s2
Changes, changes and changes
This reviews was supposed to be bigger and better but after learning what's happened in the season finally, I needed to include this here.
I understand that some changes need to be made, not only as a form to adapt something that wouldn't work on live action but also as choosing the version of events the show will portray. Let's not forget that the history of the Dance is tell by people's versions of what happens and they can or cannot be true and the show was supposed to show us what actually happened and for the most part I've gotta say, they did good.
But when the season finale was getting closer, they really started to turn all into a fanfiction, the bad type fanfiction.
Are you telling me that the biggest war between the Targaryen's happened mostly because of misunderstandings and accidents? Really? Why can you give the characters their own acts, the credit for their acts? Oh, because you don't want your fav being caught doing something bad right?
And just how they took a season worth of character development and throw all of that in window because you want the enemies of your favs looking bad in the eyes of the audience. Daemon murdered a man just because he insulted his beloved wife but know all of sudden he becomes violently with her? What? And that scene with Luke's death? Bullshit. Aemond must be a terrible Dragonrider for, even after years, he didn't bond enough with Vhagar for her to listen to him, or he really is just dumb enough to think that "prank" wouldn't end with a death.
Anyway, so according to the showrunners the war that cause the end of the dragons happened because Alicent misheard the words of a dying old man and because some old ass dragon was so old that probably didn't heard her Dragonrider command. God forbid if the characters was actually the responsible for the war thanks to their wish's.
#house of the dragon#game of thrones#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#aemond targaryen#lucerys velaryon#got#hotd spoilers#arrax#vhagar#otto hightower#jacerys velaryon#aegon ii targaryen#olivia cooke#emma darcy
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
