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softguarnere · 2 years

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The Freudian Slip (Part 2/2)

Part (2/2) - you can call me names if you call me up

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: You guys ever mishear a song lyric and center a fic idea around it, only to realize later that you've been singing it wrong for months? Yeah, that's me with "3 Nights" by Dominic Fike. I could have sworn the lyrics were "you can call me names if you call me yours", so at this point, we're just gonna have to commit to it, because this fic took me way too long to finish to change it now lol. (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Also thank you to all the lovely tumblr friends who helped with ideas for this fic or offered encouragement 😌 I'm honestly so honored that people reached out to tell me they were excited for part 2💕🕊️

Warnings: depictions of war, language

Things have been different since that day in the foxhole. But you can't find the words the express why it feels that way. Or at least, you can't until Liebgott swipes some Hershey Bars from Luz and tosses one to you.

"He's acting so weird," you confide in Luz, who shoots you a mildly annoyed look when you rip open the wrapper and take a bite. The radioman sighs as he readies himself for the patrol. You roll your eyes, gently knocking your foot against his leg. "I'm sorry I got one of the chocolate bars. You can have half if you want."

Luz laughs, but it's not his usual upbeat chuckle. "No, (Y/N). It's just that he was right."

"Who?"

"Liebgott."

"Well I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day. What was he right about?"

"You." George gives you his full attention. He looks exasperated. "You really haven't picked up on any of his hints." When you raise your eyebrows in question, he sighs again. "(Y/N), are you telling me that you really haven't realized that Liebgott has feelings for you?"

The next bite of chocolate almost lodges itself in your throat as you take a surprised inhale. Carefully, you finish chewing it, wrapping up the rest of the Hershey Bar for later before you ask, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Luz curses softly under his breath. "I can't believe it."

"George, I don't even know what you're talking about. Liebgott hates me." I don't hate you, he had said back in the foxhole that day. "Okay, he doesn't like me very much. That's why he's so mean to me."

Except for recently, when he's suddenly been so different around you. While you've still been tossing teasing remarks his way and trying to ignore the affection you've developed for him through the course of the war, Joe has suddenly stopped his teasing, instead settling for always making sure that you have a K Ration before anyone else, or that you're okay after any sort of run-in with the Germans.

But what does that mean?

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, Luz provides an answer. "You guys were always sort of hard on each other. But then when he realized that he had feelings for you --"

"How would you know?"

"Because he told me," Luz deadpans. "After Bastogne and Foy and everything, we got to talking one day, and he said that after what you said he realized that he liked you. I told him I didn't know how you felt, but that maybe if he changed how he acted around you, you would catch on."

More questions swirl through your mind at a million miles an hour. You manage to catch onto a few of the more coherent ones. "You mean you knew? And you didn't tell me?"

"He came to me because I'm your friend. I thought that you would catch on and you guys would work it out. I didn't know it would get dragged out like this!"

"And what do you mean, 'after what I said'?" Nothing particularly interesting had happened in the foxhole. Liebgott had established that he didn't completely despise you, you had acted perfectly normal considering that you were stuck with your crush for a whole day, and then he had let you rest. There was hardly any conversation, all things considered.

George's eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks. "Something you called him. Sweetheart, or something. But in German."

"Liebling," you translate automatically.

It feels as if ice water has just been dropped over your head, chilling your spine and then settling in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Liebling. Liebgott. What did you do?

Before you can even start to think that maybe calling the man you've secretly been in love with Darling isn't as bad as you might think, Luz's mouth falls into a capital O. The icy water in your stomach churns. "I've messed up."

Instead of grinding to a halt, the world around you continues on. Luz even begins readying his gear again. But you need time to think.

"What do I do?"

"Well that depends," your friend says. "How do you feel about Liebgott?" He shoots you a quizzical sideways glance. When you bite your lip, you suddenly have his full attention again. "Oh shit. So you do like him back." There's no question in his voice -- it's a statement of fact.

The very fact you had hoped to keep hidden. The fact that you somehow revealed to the person you were trying to hide it from.

"You're not going on the patrol, and neither is he," Luz points out gently. "Maybe . . ."

. . . you can talk to him while everyone else is away, he doesn't finish, but for the first time in forever, you manage to take a hint.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth while you think. "Yeah. Maybe."

By some stroke of luck – good or bad, you have yet to figure out – you get paired up with Liebgott to man one of the machine guns on the American side of the river. Not the most appropriate time to have a conversation about your feelings towards each other. But then again, there’s a war going on. If not now, when? Something else will always come up. There could always be some other excuse not to talk to him, and then you would just put it off forever. No time like the present.

If only you could find the right words . . . like you had back in the foxhole, when it had been an accident.

“Something wrong?” Liebgott asks as you set up the machine gun. Down below the building, everyone who will be crossing the river is starting to group up, getting final orders before they head out.

“Just thinking. I’m glad it’s not us.” It’s only half a lie. You are glad that you’re not going to be in a tiny boat on a cold river. But it’s not necessarily the thought at the forefront of your mind.

Liebgott nods. “Yeah, well, they didn’t need three translators. High time that Webster pulled his weight around here, after four months in that hospital.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes you suspect he had something to do with the last-minute notice that you wouldn’t be crossing the river. “Did you do something?”

“Technically, Webster came to the decision on his own. After I pointed out that his German is just as good as ours.”

Just as good as ours. Huh. In the past, he was never willing to put the two of you on par with each other. In your chest, your heart fumbles and it feels like tripping over your own feet when you run.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“No, but . . .” Damnit, where are the words when you need them? You huff a sigh. “I’ve been thinking. About when you got hit in the neck in Holland.”

His eyebrows disappear beneath the brim of his helmet as he raises them. “And why is that?”

Your throat goes dry. A second before, you had convinced yourself that there was no time like the present. And now that it’s here . . . You’ve been less nervous in high-stress combat situations.

“That was when I realized how I felt about you,” you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush before you can hold them back. “That was when I realized that I like you.”

Cool, confident Liebgott is good at keeping his face neutral when he wants to. It’s one of the things that you’ve picked up on from watching him, one of those little things about him that you’ve come to adore just because it’s part of what makes him him. For a split second, he freezes. Being so close to him, you can’t miss it. His face starts to go neutral, but the side of his mouth twitches upwards a bit.

“(Y/N), if you’re fuckin’ with me . . .”

“I’m not.”

He laughs louder than someone trying to set up in a stealthy position probably should. It’s not his usual laugh; its half relieved, half confused. “You called me Liebling, but kept pestering me like it was any other day.”

“You used to poke fun at me all the time!”

“Yeah, used to. Then I realized why I was doing it. I thought you would have figured it all out.” He smirks. “I kind of miss giving you a hard time, though. Calling you names and challenging you.”

“Well, you could call me names if you call me yours.” You both blink, taking in what you’ve said. His careful expression cracks to reveal a smile.

“You called me Liebling,” Liebgott remembers. For the first time – or actually, the first time that you’ve noticed – he looks at you with a soft expression as he fondly takes you in instead of sizing you up for competition. “So how does that fit into this?”

“To be fair, I don’t remember saying it,” you admit. You rush on before he can look disappointed, “A Freudian slip; I was worn out and kind of excited about being a foxhole with you.”

He gives you one of his goofier smiles. “Well if I had known that at the time . . .”

You roll your eyes. “Oh yeah. What an experience that would have been.”

“Still . . .” He steps around the machine gun, closing the distance between you. “Do you want me to call you mine? Even if I tease you sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” Liebgott’s smile is bright enough to light up the night and give away your position. “But what if I call you Darling instead?”

Keeping your eyes on him, you reach out and find his hand, intertwining your fingers together; it makes it feel official, somehow. “Then I would like that very much.” You squeeze his hand. It’s surprisingly soft, like his heart, which he has chosen to expose part of to you. “And what should I call you?”

“Anything you want. As long as you call me yours.”

#soft!Liebgott my beloved #it's been over a month since I posted the first part of this?!#I am so sorry about that y'all #I thought I would have more time #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #my writing #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #george luz #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine

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hyunjining · 1 year

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i guess i didn’t process that people would actually be watching the doc today… lovely

#i thought i would have more time

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stil-lindigo · 20 days

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lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

#cw: suicidal ideation #cw: suicide #cw: self harm #cw: mental health #cw: depression #i made the balloon the main representation of my self destructive urges for a reason but im not going to explain it #i tried to keep a lot of the details in this vague #it would be my worst nightmare if this comic encouraged someone to hurt themselves #so. please dont #for a long time even the thought of making this comic felt so insipid and narcissistic #with the state of the world as it is #having the only threat to your life be yourself felt so privileged and trite and shameful #but doing this comic made me sit down and process things in full #and im just. very grateful i didn't give in to my thoughts back when i sincerely felt i'd be more useful to the world dead #i also feel the need to say that this wont represent everyone's battle with mental illness. its unfortunately different for all of us #there is no fix-all #and im afraid this might be one of those comics that either resonates a lot or misses the target by a mile #i made it for myself foremost. and now that its done im glad i did it #thank you for reading #and please stay alive #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics

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egophiliac · 1 month

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roll out the red carpet guys we're going to the SHAFTLANDS

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #tapis rouge #i have nothing else right now i'm sorry i just got excited by that vil hairstyle #(and i got REALLY excited for a second because i thought red carpet = movie premiere and i always love it when vil gets to be an ~acteur~)#(but 'luxe couture' makes me think fashion show instead. ah well.)#anyway it's time for the vil hometown event!!!! or...travel event at least?#are we gonna get to meet eric or is it gonna be someone else 👀 👀 👀#like i would love to see eric but i kind of think it won't be him since he had that little main story cameo #(as portrayed by Generic Man Silhouette with some hair drawn on)#but feel free to prove me wrong twst! show us how much more glorious his hair has gotten in the last ten-ish years

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hailsatanacab · 5 months

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Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."