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fayestardust · 5 months

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for bob tours: was there a moment (or more than one) at a place where you felt ~connected to a scene from bob/the real events?

All the tours I’ve been on have special moments, though some more than others. Thank you for asking me about this, as I love recounting these memories. Some of this is actually what you asked for; the rest is just me being sappy.

Okay, ready? Behind the read more because it's SUPER long.

Eindhoven tour, April 2022

This was the first WW2 tour I’ve ever been on and the first of We Happy Few 506’s Band of Brothers tours. Special for that reason alone. It was a one-day tour with a Q&A the day before, and only four out of six actors who were supposed to join actually made it over to Eindhoven. First up: Matthew Leitch (Floyd ‘Tab’ Talbert), our fierce leader on all of the tours so I won’t mention him every time. He co-founded WHF506. He’s kind of a very annoying older brother to me now. Also there were Tim Matthews (Alex Penkala), Doug Allen (Alton More) and Mark Lawrence (William H. Dukeman).

I enjoyed the Q&A, though at that point was far too insecure to ask anything about Band because the room was filled with much bigger WW2 nerds (at the time, I’ve now caught up) who all seemed to ask very profound questions. I also shied away from taking any photos with the actors because people pretty much swarmed them, and I’m slightly claustrophobic.

I was making art already at that point, and for this trip had managed to draw Matt and Mark. See here a moment of joy for me.

The next day was the day of the tour, and I was pretty nervous about it because I’d never done a bus tour before, but in my experience, buses aren’t particularly wheelchair-friendly. Such was the case here, too, but the moment I approached the daunting steps of the Megabus, guests (special and not) flocked over to help me up them. All doubt evaporated. I got appointed the spacious back-of-the-bus seat, with my cousin on one side and Mark Lawrence on the other.

I’ll single Mark out for this tour because our conversations on the bus were very real and important to me. But also because one of the most moving moments on the tour happened when we visited the Crossroads. This is where Mark’s character and the real Dukeman died. If you ever get to visit... the Crossroads in the show looks exactly like the real location. Easily one of the most true-to-life set locations. And Mark had never been to the Netherlands. It tore him up. We all sniffled, watching him cry. The thing you have to realise is that he feels like he owes his entire life to the show. He met his lovely wife because she saw him on tv, and they fell in love. He has Dukeman’s service number tattooed on his body. And he’s the kindest, sweetest soul.

Later, months after the tour, he called me up to sing me happy birthday at six in the morning.

Both Doug and Tim remain my friends to this day. I’m perhaps most grateful for the connections made on these tours. Some of the other guests are now also like family.

Bastogne tour - part 1, November 2022

Bastogne is a magical place for me. I took one of my geekiest friends on this second tour. Special guests were Freddie Joe Farnsworth (military advisor on both BoB and the Pacific) and Phil McKee (Strayer). Not the most well-known people in this fandom I think. But interesting. And funny.

This tour was led by Reg Jans, and he’s THE guide who knows everything you could ever want to know about the Battle of the Bulge. So, during this tour, I feel like I learned a lot more about that, beyond what we see in Band.

Of course, we also visited Easy Company’s foxholes in the Bois Jacques. There was no snow (stay tuned for that on a later tour), so it’s not like it is in the show. But the woods are eerily quiet. I don’t know if I believe in anything supernatural beyond things like intuition, but if I were to start anywhere, it’d be there. Freddie Joe explained the consequences of sleep deprivation for your brain to us, to help us understand the soldiers better. Sometimes, they were their own worst enemies. They were freezing, underfed, underdressed and barraged by artillery, and most of the time, could not even see the Germans.

We also visited where John Julian was pinned down by Germans for hours. It’s still unclear what exactly happened to him, or when or how he died. We only see seconds of it in the show. It's like that with many things in the show actually. All the battles took a long, long time.

This tour isn’t my favourite - there’s a better one right after this, but this did solidify the idea that I would go on these tours just to see the people I’ve met while there.

Bastogne tour - part 2, January 2023

Here it is, my favourite tour. Barely two months after the last one. Bastogne in the very dead of winter. Let me tell you: it was COLD. But it would have been, for the soldiers of Easy.

The special guests on the second day of the tour were Shane Taylor (Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe), and Lucie Jeanne (Renee Lemaire). Doug (Alton More) was also there, and it was lovely to see him again. But as you can guess, having Doc Roe and Renee on the tour in Bastogne is pretty amazing. Eugene and Renee never actually met each other, one of the few dramatisations of the show. It serves a purpose, though, so it’s mostly seen as acceptable. Renee’s story is quite tragic, and she died very close to where she had lived with her parents and her body was wrapped in the fine silk of parachutes and brought back to them.

There were also some good hugs at the 'Nuts' bar! But the absolutely most amazing part of the tour happened without them. Our second day started really, really early. We got up at 5 am, got on the bus, and drove to the Bois Jacques. It was still pitch black when we got out, freezing cold and fresh snow crunched underneath our sleepy feet.

Reg Jans was on this tour again, and he had something truly haunting in store for us. We all stood in a circle around him with our (mostly just purchased for this trip) head torches on as he recited a prayer by Lt. Col. Robert L. Wolverton, commanding officer of 3rd battalion, 506th PIR.

Here it is.

Men, I am not a religious man and I don't know your feelings in this matter, but I am going to ask you to pray with me for the success of the mission before us. And while we pray, let us get on our knees and not look down but up with faces raised to the sky so that we can see God and ask His blessing in what we are about to do: God almighty, in a few short hours we will be in battle with the enemy. We do not join battle afraid. We do not ask favors or indulgence but ask that, if You will, use us as Your instrument for the right and an aid in returning peace to the world. We do not know or seek what our fate will be. We ask only this, that if die we must, that we die as men would die, without complaining, without pleading and safe in the feeling that we have done our best for what we believed was right. O Lord, protect our loved ones and be near us in the fire ahead and with us now as we pray to you.

And into the woods, we went. You have to remember, there are no cars at this hour. It’s dark. It’s quiet. We were told to be quiet. We were told to sit in the foxholes in the snow. We switched off our lights. No one was shooting at us, but we felt, in part, what the men of Easy Company would have felt. And then we watched the sun come up. It’s the closest thing to a religious experience I’ve ever felt.

I met one of my favourite people in the world on this tour, too. He took these wonderful photos of me and inspired me to take up photography again, myself.

Normandy tour, June 2023

This tour was a bit of an odd one out. It felt chaotic because it was scheduled around D-Day, which made Normandy really poorly accessible. It’s so busy, so our tour was mostly improvised around areas with the least amount of traffic jams.

It did have its moments, though. Normandy is a cool place. And we had the amazing Pete McCabe (Donald Hoobler) with us.

The day before the tour, I actually got to meet three Normandy veterans. Humbling, to say the least. I also met several more Band actors (Peter Youngblood Hills, Alex Sagba-Brady, Christian Black, Nolan Hemmings) and Scott Gibson, who played Captain Haldane in the Pacific. We still keep in touch. Christian Black is now a Still Photographer, and mostly shoots Tom Cruise’s movie stills. He also took this photo of Nolan Hemmings, this painting of him and little old me.

I was really glad to see many friends again. And I brought my own camera and took amazing pictures (teehee). We saw most of Easy’s known landing spots in Sainte Mère Eglise, like Winters’ and Lipton’s, to name a few.

Our guide here was Paul ‘Woody’ Woodadge, an English guy married to a French woman. He’s nice, but critical of Easy’s fame, not so much on account of Easy, but mostly because Easy was just one of the many companies that did incredible things. We visited the area around Brécourt Manor, where we learned that other company Paratroopers cleared the way for Easy’s famous mission. It doesn’t make it less impressive, but it adds loads of context.

Another thing that I found incredibly moving was the reading of Lt. Meehan’s last letter home. It’s easy to forget how young these men were. And how wise. Meehan’s plane crashed in a field, and nearly 80 years later, you can still see where it landed because while the field is fully planted, there’s a part near a hedgerow that remains barren to this day. Haunting.

We also visited Marmion Farm, where many famous Easy Company photos were taken (it’s where they more or less come back together after the jump).

One of my favourite stories, though, is that of medics Robert Wright and Ken Moore of the 101st Airborne. They treated 80 injured American and German soldiers and a child in a church in Angoville-au-Plain. There are still bloodstains on the pews.

So, as you can tell, not everything had to do with Easy, because we also went to Omaha Beach, where I got out of my chair and walked. Just to walk where these brave men had walked and really feel the history.

Eindhoven/Arnhem Market Garden Tour, October 2023

My second favourite tour after Bastogne in winter. Our guest here was Mark Huberman (Lester Hashey) who was meant to come on the original Eindhoven tour but couldn’t. He’s delightfully Irish, and had the best anecdotes from the set. Also absolutely hilarious.

Many of my friends weren’t on this tour, so going on to it, I couldn’t have guessed it would rank among my favourites.

It was split between two things. Some Easy Company sites and stories (some repeats from the first tour, but often with a slightly different angle or experience), and the British side of Operation Market Garden!

By the way, did you know that Hoobler picks up the Luger that ends up killing him in Bastogne, at the Crossroads? I think they changed it in the show to let the story flow better.

Anyway. I loved this tour. We visited Schoonderlogt and the Crossroads again. This time I sat in the grassy field while everyone else did the famous run across. It’s such a long way!

But the stories of the British troops were perhaps even cooler to me. Because that all happened right on my doorstep. I knew the bigger picture, but we had Reg Jans on this tour again, which is synonymous with really personal stories. So for our British troops day, we followed in the footsteps of leaders and soldiers alike, until we met them again in their final resting place in the military cemetery. A really rewarding journey. Mark also read a letter by Ivar Rowberry, which I posted about here. There’s an audio recording of it too, which is well worth a listen.

If you want to read more about any of these tours (I’m a bit tired of writing so much, check out my actual - non tumblr - blog over here. There is an entry for each one, there.

#band of brothers #ww2 tours #ask me things in my askbox please thanks

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softguarnere · 2 years

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Call A Medic (But Not For Me)

Babe Heffron x reader

Request: Can I get a reader that embodies the "call an ambulance call an ambulance but not for me" meme, but the reader actually gets hurt? I have not have a specific pairing in mind. How about do a character that you haven't written yet? Also, welcome to the fandom!

A/N: Thanks for the welcome, Anon! :) I'm not gonna lie, this fic didn't really turn out the way that I wanted it to (just one of those days where the characters won't do or say what you want them to, ya know?), but I hope that it's okay and that you like it. 💕 (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: The usual HBOwar stuff: blood, injury, swearing, guns

It's not difficult for the replacements to find themselves in awe of the original Toccoa paratroopers. But Babe finds it especially easy to be impressed by you. Because if he's being honest with himself, you're one of the bravest and most badass people that he's ever met. From the second that he first saw you in a pub shortly before the jump into Holland, drinking Nixon under the table and then still beating him at darts, he knew you were a force to be reckoned with -- a notion that was only confirmed after he saw how well you handled yourself after everything that happened with Market Garden and Arnhem.

So even though Bastogne is cold, and he's spent a lot of time in his foxhole feeling almost hopeless, if there's one person that he's glad to still have with the company, it's you. Which is exactly what he's thinking about as the two of you tromp through the snow-covered woods, trying to find the line after another failed attempt at bringing back plasma for Roe and Spina.

"Babe," your voice brings him back to the present moment. "Where the hell are we?"

Frosty air burns his eyes as he squints through the snow, trying to make out any familiar landmarks. All the trees look the same. The snow is falling so fast that any footprints start to be filled in as soon as they're made. You've been walking forever -- you should have found third battalion by now.

Snap!

Before he can answer, you gasp as the ground before you gives way, swallowing you up to your hips. You look back at him and laugh, your eyes crinkling, like you didn't just scare both him and yourself.

He extends a hand to you. "You need any - "

"Wer ist da?" A muffled voice from underneath the snow in front of you demands.

"Shit!" You're reaching for Babe's hand when the snow in front of you lifts as a German soldier jumps up from his foxhole -- the very hole that you've just found yourself in.

It happens so fast that Babe feels like he's moving in slow motion, watching it all play out in disbelief. The German cries out in shock, raising his gun as he points it at you. Your own gun is slipped off your shoulder in a split second as you whip it forward, using it to knock the German's out of his hands.

The snow keeps it from skidding as far as you would like, but at least it's no longer aimed at your chest. You aim your own gun and squeeze the trigger, only to be met with a strange sound.

"It's jammed!"

The German starts to make a move to grab his gun. He lunges forward, hands outstretched, only to be stopped by you cracking your rifle against his head like a baseball player hitting a homerun. By some stroke of luck for him, and utter misfortune for you, he's moving so quickly that the hit doesn't inflict much damage, but does elicit a string of loud German words that Babe can only assume are curses.

With the German distracted, he reaches down into the foxhole, hooks his hands under your arms, and drags you up out of the hole. "Come on! We gotta get outta here!"

"I almost got him!" You've trained your jammed gun on the German -- still scrambling for his own -- but Babe grabs you by the forearm and tugs you after him.

"What? Are you tryin' to end up back at an aide station?! We gotta move!"

"I'm movin'! I'm movin'!" His grip is so tight that you have to wrench your arm from his hand so that you can turn around and run properly rather than have him drag you back towards the line.

Scattered gunshots fill the air and you stumble slightly as you run, the both of you panting and heaving as snow kicks up around you. Babe only stops when he reaches his foxhole, sliding down inside and running a hand over his sweaty face as he gasps. He expects for you to slide down next to him a second later, but you don't.

"(Y/N)?" He peers over the edge of the foxhole.

You stand a few feet away, staring down at your hand. It takes a second for him to register than it's stained red. And then suddenly he's out of the foxhole, by your side and yelling, "Medic!"

"Babe, I'm okay."

"Okay?! Christ, (Y/N), you're bleedin'!"

"He grazed me, that's all." Footsteps crunch through the snow behind you as Doc Roe approaches. Your eyes widen, darting between him, your bloody hand, and Babe. "Babe, don't let them take me off the line."

"(Y/N), you got hit!"

"He grazed my arm!"

Roe pauses a few feet away, wary at the panicked and angry tone of your voice. When he approaches, he walks slowly, hands out, voice soft, like he's just encountered a wild animal that he's trying not to spook. "Hey, (Y/N), you wanna let me look at that?"

You clamp your bloody hand back over the wound on your arm. "Doc, I'm fine, honest. You should see the other guy. If anyone needs a medic, it's him, really."

Roe doesn't listen. There's still some distance between you, but he squints at your arm and nods. "It doesn't look too bad."

"Like I said, he grazed me."

"Probably just need to be bandaged up." He meets Babe's eyes and nods, assuring him that you're okay.

"So I won't have to be shipped out?"

"No, I don't see why you would."

No one misses the way you mutter, "Oh, thank Christ" under your breath, or how you flinch a little under Roe's gentle hands as he bandages your arm, but for your sake, Doc pretends not to notice it. Babe, on the other hand . . .

It's another unforgivingly cold and sleepless night on the line. Even huddled together under a blanket and with the tarp covering the top of the foxhole, any morsel of heat you can produce manages to escape before it can do any good.

It doesn't matter, though. Not really. Babe wouldn't be able to sleep if he tried -- not with the image of you staring down at your blood-covered hand etching itself onto the backs of his eyelids any time that he so much as blinks.

"You're stubborn."

The back of your helmet almost knocks against his chin as you turn to look at him in the darkness. "What?"

Babe just nods. "Just thinkin' about how you didn't want to admit you needed a medic. You're stubborn."

"Not stubborn," you huff -- very stubbornly, proving his point. "Just . . . Can I tell you a secret?"

If you didn't have his attention before, you do now. "Of course."

"Scared."

"What?"

"I wasn't being stubborn, Babe. I was just scared."

"Of what?" There are countless horrors that everyone has encountered since coming to Bastogne, but after being stuck with them day in and day out, they start to lose their power, until they dull, like an old knife, no longer inspiring fear. Then you start to feel brave, like you can handle being on the line, until a new horror that you didn't even know you could fear comes along and the process starts again.

But you, being scared? Babe can't imagine anything in this frosted nightmare of a place that could inspire such a feeling in someone so confident and composed.

You let out a small laugh. It sounds defeated. "Never mind. You'll think I'm stupid."

"No I won't." He nudges you under the blanket. "Promise."

You huff out another small laugh. "I was afraid that I would be taken off the line and to a field hospital or something. I was afraid of being separated from the company . . . Of being separated from you."

Oh.

"From me?"

"Yeah." A pause while neither of you can quite figure out what to say. Then you, always so brave, "I'm glad that we found each other, even under the circumstances."

"Me too." It takes him a minute, but under the blanket, his hand finds yours and he squeezes it lightly. "I wouldn't let them separate us."

"I know you wouldn't." He feels you squeeze his hand in return. "Guess we're stuck with each other for the rest of the war, huh?"

"Well, since we're both so stubborn about it, I guess we are," he teases. Through the darkness, he can hear your small laugh, and picture your smile as you tuck yourself closer beside him under the blanket.

Babe can be stubborn when he wants to be -- and, like your earlier stubbornness -- maybe part of his reaction is born out of fear. But he makes up his mind then and there that nothing is going to come close to hurting you the rest of the war. If anyone tries, they're going to be the one who needs a medic.

#someone tell me why I work on/go to upload fics in the middle of the night #and am shocked every time that I find typos #as if I didn't think it would happen?#babe heffron x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #babe heffron #eugene roe #band of brothers fanfic #anonymous #band of brothers imagine #my writing

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inglourious-imagines · 2 years

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Broken Hearts Lie All Around Me (Lewis Nixon x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: @warmommy - Yes hey hello hi, may I please request #4 with Lewis Nixon 👀 (also on mobile your bio links are almost invisible, I’m not sure if that was on purpose ❤️❤️)

Prompt: 4 - I'm here. You can talk to me or not to talk to me but I'm here.

Summary: Bastogne, the prompt says it all.

Warnings: some f words

Author's Note: Did I totally freak out when warmommy followed me and then even requested something for Lew? Yes. Did I try real hard for this to be real good? Yes. Did i fail at that more than I thought I would? Fuck yes. Anyway, thanks for requesting and hope you like it!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

Links in bio! (anyone has an idea how to make those visible? cause i don't.)

"We make each other alive. Does it matter if it hurts?"

Bastogne felt... Y/N Y/L/N didn't even find the right words to desribe their situation. There were moments when she did not feel anything at all, just pure numbness that filled her every sense.

Then there were times, when one thing was absolutely dominating so she could not simply focus on anything else; like the never-ending cold, the feeling of fresh blood on her fingers, or fear.

But most importantly, there were times when Y/N was feeling everything at once; worry, grief, love, hope, pain, warmth and cold; for those times she blamed Lewis Nixon for he was the sole source of her longing, strength and heartbreak.

Y/N desperately wanted to help him, to relieve him from his pain and suffering, she'd do anything just so she could see Lew's face light up with that typical grin of his. Like in Toccoa, two whole years ago that rather felt like 20 years.

•••

Again, like yesterday, the day before that and the day before that, Y/N made her rounds, walking from foxhole to foxhole, asking if everyone's okay or in need of medical attention. Eugene gave her a whole speech to focus on finding him a pair of scissors, to which she just nodded.

Y/N wandered further than she truly intended to; the trees and snow appearing all the same everywhere. Just the never-ending white following her wherever she went.

It was quieter than usual. Even the wind seemed to cease, as if the whole world stopped, trapping her within the time itself, as she shivered and with helpless expression kept on looking around for any familiar spots to indicate her where she actually was.

"Lost again?" a deep voice broke the eerie silence and Y/N sighed, maybe too loudly, in relief. She turned on her heel and for the first time during that day, she laid her eyes upon her favourite Captain.

He looked more disheveled than she saw him last almost a week ago, his eyes more tired, the bags under them more visible, his whole posture radiating utter exhaustion. Y/N would bet that none of the soldiers saw this, not really, for in times like these, there was no place for such emotions, as horrible as it sounds, and she knew it. Sometimes it almost made her cry, how desperate it made her feel.

"Following me again?" Y/N tried her best to smile but she had a suspicion that Lewis Nixon saw through it all.

"Well," he replied, "I've got to make sure my favourite medic is alright. "

Her cheeks blushed despite the miserable cold. Nixon immediately acknowledged it and grinned. This was the first time Y/N saw him genuinely smile in days, if not weeks.

"Come," Lewis spoke up again, mentioning for her to follow him. "Let's get back before some damn Kraut sees us here."

Y/N fell into step beside him without a word, her hand itching to grab his, not for the warmth it would provide but rather for the comfort she desperately needed.

Y/N could feel Lew's stare on her, studying her closely with absolutely no shame.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." The most basic line of all times slipped out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying it, when the female paratrooper couldn't take his gaze any longer.

"Oh, I will," Lewis said, "as soon as I get my hands on some camera."

His reply took her so off guard that she tripped on a fallen branch and nearly fell right onto her face. Nixon instinctively grabbed her arm to steady her as they found themselves in quite the proximity of the other.

"You should be careful, more careful." Lewis whispered this time, his voice soothing and full of worry which she couldn't quite understand.

Lewis sighed. "You see everybody's pain, all the grief and anger, trying to fix it all, that you completely forget about yourself."

Y/N stared at him. It took her some time to form an answer. "It's my job as a medic to take care of people."

Nixon just shook his head, his face adorned with a soft smile as he looked at her. "You still don't get it, do you. Dick has been pestering me about it since fucking Aldbourne."

She blinked a few times, not really sure what was Lewis getting at. "Get what? Just spill it out."

The soldier sighed in frustration. "That I fucking care about you, okay! That I'm worried sick every single time the Germans decide to send us a little something! That I simply need you with me, as you are, and no different."

His voice was calmer now, as he took a small step closer to her. "I'm here, Y/N. You can talk to me or not talk to me but I'm here."

She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and for the first time in a very long time she did absolutely nothing about it. Her hand instinctively found his, both of them cold as ice, but when their bodies collided, it was like thousands of suns erupted at once.

Y/N was not alone. She had never been alone, it just took another broken soul to make her realize that. The female soldier felt all the words and emotions raging within her but for the time being she swallowed them once again and only pressed her body into Lew's even more.

They will have their whole lives to share everything but in that moment, she was there, he was there, they were both there and that was enough.

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon #band of brothers fanfic #imagine #hbo war #fanfic #love #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #george luz #ronald speirs #eugene roe #band of brothers imagine

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auxiliarydetective · 7 months

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The OC Halloween Challenge - Day 18

You can find the challenge here!

Today's prompt was...

What’s The Opposite Of Miracles?

Places of worship are supposed to be places of good, where people go for guidance and safety, places full of good beings and devoid of sin. But what if the bad beings sneak in or the sinless place is just a hiding place for those full of sin?

Once again, inspiration struck me for this only once, so there was no poll. I simply remembered a fairly famous scene in a convent about a certain group of paratroopers and realized I needed to write something for Anita. So, here you go:

Anita felt the water run down her skin, a feeling she had missed very dearly these last few months. Week after week, day after day, huddled up in foxholes, not having showered in ages. She had tried to decline the sisters' generous offer multiple times at first. The men weren't allowed inside the living area of the sisters where they had their showers, only Anita was, because she was a woman. Usually it was always her who was denied something because of her gender, so she had tried not to abuse this situation. But in the end, after Lip had encouraged her multiple times, Captain Speirs had ordered her, and so she had taken up the offer in the end. At first she had still felt a little guilty, but the water raining down on her had washed the guilt away along with the dirt.

Anita stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, including her hair, as best as she could. She braided her hair into two braids along her head, turning them into snail-like buns above her neck, the way she had done it so many times since first putting on her jump boots. Finally, she slipped back into the same old, worn-out uniform as before, only that, beneath the fabric, she finally felt clean again.

When she stepped out of the shower room, she was greeted by a whistle and a familiar voice:

"Heeey, Anita! Lookin' sharp! Ready to perform a striptease again?"

Anita scoffed, the response coming out as a reflex:

"Shut up, Skip."

But then she remembered. It hit her like a mortar shell directly to the heart, exploding her flesh without harming it at all, yet the pain was the same. Everything that she had miraculously managed to ignore during her shower came back to her now, all at once. Immediately, tears formed in her eyes. She was frozen in place, couldn't move, couldn't think, only remember.

"You don't wanna talk to your old pals?" Another voice asked, clearly that of Alex Penkala. "Come on, it hasn't been that long."

Shakily, Anita managed to turn around. Behind her stood Skip Muck and Alex Penkala, clothes and bodies stained by dirt and remains of a mortar shell. But there was no blood. Immediately, Anita started sobbing, doubling over.

"Sh," Alex said softly. "It's okay, don't cry."

"Please, don't cry," Skip continued. "We can only have one person see us, so, please, keep quiet if you can."

Anita nodded, covering her mouth with her hands, trying to steady her breathing. This couldn't be real. It had to be a hallucination. By everything she knew, she had probably gotten shot during Dike's awful attempt at an assault on Foy, and everything after that had been either something she was cooking up during a coma or her way of dealing with the journey to the afterlife. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to resist. Even if she was definitely only imagining Skip and Alex being there, she was going to cherish every minute she had with them. They sat down against a wall together, Anita in the middle, Skip on one side, Alex on the other. Their arms touched hers, an odd coldness radiating off of them like a foggy mist. She didn't comment on it, and neither did she mention the fact that they were supposed to be dead. They definitely were dead. But she feared that saying it out loud would cause their apparitions to disappear.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Anita saw silhouettes around her. She recognized them immediately, having grown so used to identifying them in pitch black nights. Donald Hoobler, Kenneth Webb, Harold Webb, Herron, Mellet, Sowosky... They were the fallen of Bastogne and Foy. All of them gathered together, sitting down in a circle on the floor.

"So, what did we miss?" Skip asked, throwing Anita a smile.

So, Anita started to tell them everything, trying not to sob too much. She couldn't stop herself from crying, the tears steadily flowing down her cheeks, dropping down onto her uniform. All the while, she kept talking, as if there were nothing odd about the situation at all. She summarized the action of the last few days like she would to someone who had just gotten back from the aid station. Nevermind the fact that these people had been even further away. After she was done recounting the events of Foy, they started reminiscing about Toccoa, about Aldbourne, D-Day, Holland... That was until there were steps down the hallway. One by one, the images of her brothers in arms faded as Anita gave them one last smile, doing her hardest to swallow her cries.

"There you are."

"Johnny," Anita replied, giving him her best fake smile. It was just now that she realized how exhausted she actually was. She felt like she couldn’t get up, so she stayed right there, on the ground, where she had been surrounded by fallen friends only a few seconds ago.

"You were expecting someone else, huh?"

"Kinda. But it’s not a bad surprise." Anita patted the floor next to her, prompting Johnny to sit down where a corpse had been sitting a minute before.

"I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in the showers. I wouldn’t blame you. Nice way to die, compared to out there. At least it's warm. I was worried you'd had the same thought."

"What, and take Don down with me? You know damn well that, at this point, if I die, Don’s gonna follow right behind. I can't do that to him. He's gotta live."

"So do you. Your dad would be losing his only daughter, Arizona would lose a hell of a performer, and we'd all be losing a great friend. Some even more than that."

Anita smiled and shook her head. "You'd be losing your chance at seeing me naked is what you'd do."

"I didn't say that but you did promise that you'd perform for us one day. All the way back in Aldbourne, a few days before D-Day."

"And as long as there's one Toccoa guy still alive, I'll keep that promise."

"See? You don't get to die."

"Hm."

They sat in silence for a while, just staring down the hallway and enjoying the warmth of being inside after so long. But the memory of Skip, Penkala and the others didn't want to leave Anita alone.

"Johnny, do you believe in ghosts?" she finally asked.

Johnny shrugged. "Can't say I've ever seen one. But I could've sworn I heard you talking to someone on my way here and then there was just nobody there."

"I was talking to Skip and the others," Anita admitted before she'd had any time to think about it. "I figured they might wanna know Dike is gone, maybe celebrate a little now that they're not busy fighting anymore."

Johnny scoffed and shook his head. "I hope they get beer in the afterlife. They can make a toast to Dike's incompetence and send a poltergeist to trip 'im up."

Anita sighed. "Please don't tell anyone I talked to dead people, I don't want a Section 8. I'd rather bite a bullet than that."

"I'll stay quiet."

"Be honest, do you think I'm insane?"

"No, I just think you’re tired and you need to sleep." Johnny patted her back, then got to his feet, holding a hand out to her. "C'mon, up we go." Anita took his hand and let herself be pulled up from the ground. "Go cuddle with your boyfriend, hm? Maybe it'll help you both fall asleep. Last time I checked, he was sitting there like an exhausted toddler with a beard. I think he needs a kiss and I'm not giving it to him."

Anita smiled. "I get it. Do you need a kiss? Special offer, you know I'm taken."

"If Don tries to beat me up tomorrow because of this, I'll steal your hairbrush."

"Jokes on you, I won’t be needing it for the next few days."

Anita gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then pulled him back towards were the others were.

"Come on, you need sleep too, otherwise you'll be permanently grumpy again."

#this is just a very weird mix of angst fluff and banter #i kinda love it #band of brothers #skip muck #alex penkala #johnny martin #band of brothers oc #oc: anita reed #ohc2023 #tw suicide allusion

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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I posted 1,773 times in 2022

That's 1,144 more posts than 2021!

132 posts created (7%)

1,641 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@softguarnere

@latibvles

@emmythespacecowgirl

@mccall-muffin

@hbowardaily

I tagged 1,767 of my posts in 2022

#omgg - 410 posts

#bob - 187 posts

#band of brothers - 164 posts

#daww - 103 posts

#reminders - 102 posts

#nature - 96 posts

#oooh - 91 posts

#hbo war - 86 posts

#relatable tbh - 86 posts

#joe liebgott - 83 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and i find the pov of this so interesting bc for parts of it it's like seeing 2 ppl fall in love thru the eyes of the ppl around them 🥺💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

Starry the Musical: Vincent Van Gogh (1/4)

"The sight of the starry night makes me dream"

31 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

And to celebrate the end of Pride Month, the Duffer brothers have generously revamped a new version of homophobia just for us 🥴

43 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Starry the Musical: Theo Van Gogh (4/4)

"You've carried me more than you'll ever know..."

45 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

Fire On Fire: Chapter 1

(Ch. 2)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: With WWII raging across the European Theatre, OSS agent Alix "Pyro" Martinelli and paratrooper Joe Liebgott are forced to navigate their star-crossed romance at the worst possible time. With the knowledge that one or both of them could end up dead before the war's end, will their secret love survive the horrors that await them or break under the pressure? Simultaneously, as he prepares to send her into enemy territory, first-time case officer/handler Lewis Nixon struggles to shoulder the ever-present fear that the agent he's come to see as his little sister may not make it back alive.

A/N: Here it is!! Y'all know the drill lol, everything BoB is strictly based on the miniseries & my own headcanons, not the real-life ppl. Also pls be nice to me, this is the first thing I've written since like 2018-2019. It'll get better hopefully lol. (And yes, I'm making y'all wait for that coveted first interaction between Lieb x Alix lol bc I'm evil) 💖

See the full post

47 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed.

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view.

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in.

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there.

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end.

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high.

Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t.

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself.

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged.

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys.

See the full post

60 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #ayee jazz hands

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ammcgee-author · 8 months

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207. Birthday

I wish I had anything deep to say, about the nature of Life and Death; I’ve had so many near-death experiences, that I really should say more, not less.

And I wish I had something more to say, about The Afterlife and Philosophy; that would comfort you, on your way, more than a mere dream or fantasy.

I wish I could say my Faith was always strong, and that I never doubted; but the unholy truth about my faith is that I could do more or less without it.

And I wish I was never ungrateful, blasphemous, or full of foolish folly; that I was always steadfast, brave, and true — and above all worldly things, like ego, lust, and vanity.

I wish I could always pull myself up, like a bum out of the gutter; like a soldier in a foxhole, without the help of another.

But the truth is my faith is wavering, like a torn flag in the wind, to the storms of doubt and sin.

I’m Agnostic in all ways, and don’t really care that much about anything.

Though somewhere in my lack of Faith, lies my belief in Peace, Harmony, and in Balance; but I do not worship those things, either, not Science or Nature; nor fall into the short-sighted idolatry of worshipping the Creation over the Creator.

I’ve died and seen green meadows full of golden sunlight, white robed angels, and wildflowers; and felt myself pulled apart by the cold and cruel hands of the Universe into my component parts.

Eyes and mind floating, like light and energy, into the vortex of eternal darkness; while vomiting, feeling crushed, and suffocating. All my thoughts and memories painfully obliterated into atoms.

I’m not trying to convince you that what I saw is real or fake; or that when facing death you should be brave or afraid.

I only know that my Faith is composed of Doubt; I have so much doubt, about my faith, that I often doubt my doubts.

And although I cannot show you a glimpse of the Afterlife that was only meant for me, I know there is an Eternal Fate for each of us to meet.

You’ll say that there’s a scientific explanation for what I experienced, and to not “lean on my own understanding;” that I’m delusional, traumatized, or maybe just exaggerating; but I’m a Pragmatist, I believe my own eyes, even when my heart is still, and my brain lacks oxygen.

I only know that I believe in Eternal things, and that everything else is only ephemeral dust; I can’t tell you what to believe, where to go, or who to trust.

We’re each on our own Spiritual Journeys, what is mine you were never meant to see; I can’t tell you the difference between Reality and a Dream.

And I can’t tell you what to do, what to say, how to pray, or how to live your life; I can’t tell you that your ways are always wrong, or that mine are always right.

I only know that my Doubt is stronger than most peoples’ Faith; and I hope we can see one another, again, after our Judgment Day.

— A.M. McGee

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #mortality #immortality #literature #writing #poetry that rhymes #poetry on tumblr

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sergeant-spoons · 2 years

Text

101. What Pain There Might Have Been

Verity/Victor Rich

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time marched on and duty never ceased. Verity had hardly drifted off when an oblivious Babe Heffron woke her for her turn on the frontline watch. This hour of the day was usually her favorite, the best of the worst, watching the world brighten even if the sun was nowhere to be seen. It reassured her, in a way, and gave her hope for a bit more warmth than the night had provided and for one slow day to pass without the loss of a friend. The thunder of the shellings was no friendly symphony, as the Americans and Germans knew alike. The only difference was that, so far as Verity could recall, her people had not launched an artillery attack on the German lines since arriving at Bastogne.

For the first time, watching the faint sunrise through the battered trees and the first flecks of falling snow, Verity was not at all soothed by the morning light but felt a wave of grief instead.

She crawled and then walked back from her post with that heavy feeling. Only one of the foxholes nearest to the line was occupied, and Verity's heart leaped into her throat to discover it was Perry and Toye's. And Perry was awake and alone and staring the way Gene had yesterday, and Verity shoved everything else in her mind and heart aside as she slid into the foxhole. Perry looked at her, recognized her, and that was a relief, at least she wasn't all that far gone. Still, she absolutely should not be dealing with yesterday's events alone. As Verity watched, Perry tugged at her gloves, took them off, shook them free of some invisible invader, and put them back on. Her fingers trembled more without the gloves than with, and so when she returned them for the fourth time, Verity gently laid her hands over her friend's.

Perry did not speak, only cuddled closer, shoving her hands into her pockets. Verity wrapped her arms around her friend and bit back a sigh, wishing just the same as Perry that it was Joe Toye here instead of her. In the silence and the cold, they huddled, and Verity disliked how similar the air felt to yesterday right before the bombardment. Her mind drifted treacherously into the firestorm and she saw Lip, incredibly vividly, laughing. A chill shook her from head to toe, and Perry tucked herself even further against her friend. Verity kissed the top of Perry's head, grimacing at how her hair was undoubtedly just as grimy as her friend's, and wondered what on earth she could say to ease the blow. The poet, wordless, hollow.

"Red?"

"Yeah?"

"I never told you..."

Verity waited a few seconds, then a few more, waiting for Perry to go on. Oh, Gene, the best teacher of patience she'd ever known. For a moment, she missed him, but she knew he was alive and physically unharmed, and that was much more than Perry had. As such, Verity forced herself to forget him, for the time being.

"I never told you," Perry repeated at last, "why I joined up."

"No, you didn't." Verity squeezed her shoulder. "Wanna tell me now?"

"Yes."

Perry took a minute to think. Verity took a sip from her canteen and wished her lips were not so dry as to crack and bleed just from the contact with the cold metal.

"I got a brother," she said. "A younger one. By 7 years. Loves basketball and model boats."

"He sounds nice."

"Nice? He's brilliant. And funny. And real peaceful." Perry shook her head, almost enough to disguise her shiver as the wind swooped overhead and dusted her and Verity with snow. "Clever as they come, you know? You would like him, Red."

"I'm sure I would."

"Thing is, he's not- he can't do most of the stuff you and I can." She tucked her cheek against Verity's scarf. "He can't walk."

Verity wasn't sure what to say. "Oh."

"He's been in a chair all his life- a wheelchair." Perry sniffled. "My fuckin' stupid mother- if she didn't drink so much, I bet- I bet Clyde would-"

A single tear fell upon her cheek, and before Verity could stop her, Perry just about punched herself in the face, trying to get rid of it. Verity winced and checked out her friend's cheek, brushing away the tear with a gentle thumb, and concluded but did not say aloud that the spot was bound to bruise. It was some time before Perry spoke again, long enough that Verity began to wonder if she'd fallen asleep.

"Clyde's his name. Clyde Blomme."

"Clyde," Verity realized, "that's the name you put on the enlistment papers as your middle name."

The ghost of a smile passed upon Perry's face. "That's right. My real middle name is Clémence. But I wanted to- to remember Clyde, even as this different person, you know? To keep my brother as a part of me."

"Of course."

"And then if I- if I got hit-" Perry took a stuttering breath. "Well, then, he'd know it was me. You'd have to send word, of course, but-"

"What? Why?"

Perry blinked tiredly, starting to frown. "I never told you?"

"Told me what?"

She turned a sad, grateful, vulnerable gaze upon Verity.

"I put you down as my next-of-kin on my life insurance."

Verity felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her. She gasped for air, and Perry blanched.

"Sorry, I didn't mean- I thought it was the best idea at the time, since-"

"No, no," Verity managed to get out, "I don't mind. Not at all. I just- I didn't know."

"Ah."

"I didn't know."

The two women relapsed into silence. Perry started to tug at her gloves again, and before Verity could find the words to persuade her to stop for the sake of her poor, cold hands, Johnny Martin appeared and called them both out. They arose from the foxhole in grim camaraderie, a greater understanding between them than ever before, and that was saying something. Perry's brother felt like Verity's charge, now, too- if Perry didn't make it home, who knows what would happen to Clyde? Ever the more reason to keep her friend alive at any cost. The seeds of sacrifice sprouted in Verity's chest, and for the next several days, she watered them with grief and the growing conviction that if something else should happen, she may be the next to go. But not Perry. Never Perry.

"Never seen you so quiet, Bloom," Sgt. Martin mused as they came up to the small patrol planned for that morning, scouting the woods just south of their current positions. The area was supposedly one of inaction, and a walk would do good to warm up frozen limbs and ligaments. Skip and Penkala came over to see them off, especially Perry, and Verity's heart trembled at their kindness. She mouthed a thank-you after them as the patrol departed, and they nodded, the smiles they'd put up for Perry still strong despite how their hopes, just like everybody else's, were undoubtedly suffering.

"Bloom? You gonna say something?"

"Didn't sleep well," was all that Perry replied, and Sgt. Martin wisely let the matter be.

The patrol passed with hardly any action- saw an owl and took a potshot, receiving several reprimands from one sergeant after another -and they returned to the line just before noon. Domingus served the food, as always, and Skip and Luz joked around, and laughter was had, though it came weary. Each day was the same and yet worse than the last. Barely six minutes into the meal, Perry rose abruptly and started walking off. Sergeant Lipton went after her, and as he went by, Verity passed him Perry's gloves, left in her empty mess tin. At least she'd eaten, Verity supposed, then realized Perry had never gone up in the line for food after all. Verity sighed, rising to collect her friend's portion for when Lipton convinced her to come back. Indeed, Perry returned in short order, trailing after their devoted sergeant, and when Verity put the mess tin right in her lap, she began to eat, slowly but surely.

They spent a week in that position, avoiding the marred ground where Toye and Guarnere lost a lot more than just their legs. Perry especially took the long way 'round. Nobody blamed her. Nobody talked about her much, either, and that was good, very good. Verity had feared- ever since the shock and pain from the shelling had diminished (but never left) -Perry's discovery for days. Her fears appeared unfounded; nevertheless, she stuck close to her friend as much as she could. Perry was never much good at being alone, always trailing behind some Toccoa trooper ever since Aldbourne before Market Garden. More recently, she walked side by side with the veterans, an endorsement only she and Babe Heffron had yet received. Chance no longer seemed fit just for the dealing of the cards at a low-lit table in some basement just a few miles shy of Saint-Marie-du-Mont. It was a struggle everyone endured in this hellish forest, a fear just as present as the cold and the German artillery and the war itself:

When is my luck going to run out?

It was the seventh day after that most destructive shelling when Easy Company arose from their position east of Foy and moved out to clear the woods to the west of the treacherous town. A snowstorm had delayed them from the objective for nearly three days, and the men were antsy to move out. They sought friendlier groves, most especially those with healthy, full-standing trees and the fewest possible shell craters. The snow was still heavy by nightfall, but not nearly as thick as the past afternoon. Last night, men hardly left their foxholes for fear of disappearing into the darkness and never returning. It was nearly 22:00 hours when Verity wiped the cold sweat from her brow and looked up to see Moe Alley dragging a beefy branch over to the foxhole she and Bull were digging.

"Look at those fronds," she praised, and Alley flashed a smile.

"Only the best for you, Red."

She snorted a laugh, pushing his arm. "Suck-up."

"To who?" He snickered. "I'm the sergeant here, not you."

"Alley," Bull drawled, "get us another branch, would you?"

"Sure thing, Sarge."

"Oh, so sad, I'm the lowly private." Verity sighed, shaking her head, and Bull chuckled, easily able to tell she wasn't put off in the slightest.

"Hey, Bull..."

He stopped digging and climbed halfway out of the foxhole, one boot on the edge. Verity rose from her crouch to see who had come their way. It was Lipton, and she tipped her helmet respectfully at him as Bull pointed the way to the last known place of Lieutenant Dike. The name of their useless commander (what an oxymoron) still set a bubble of fire bursting in Verity's chest, but she said nothing, only took Bull's shovel and continued digging. Alley returned with another branch from the fallen tree a few yards away and hopped into the foxhole, laying his rifle to the side.

"Thanks."

Verity paused, watching Lip walk away, and sighed. Bull raised his eyebrow at her, and though she waffled for a moment, she knew she'd have to answer his unspoken question sooner than later.

"I don't envy him," she admitted softly. "He does so much for us, and he hardly gets a break... The man has to deal with Dike directly, every day- I can't figure how he does it."

Bull lit up one of his familiar cigars- somehow he'd managed to ration them better than anybody and their cigarettes out here -as he listened. When she was done speaking, he nodded, and even Alley expressed his agreement before hopping out of the foxhole to drag the second branch to match the first. Verity helped him from her position below, and together, they positioned it well enough for both cover and ease of access. Bull thanked them through a puff of smoke, and Verity eyed his cigar with a glimmer of interest her friends recognized from their days in Georgia, the kind of youthful inquisitiveness she'd carried over from childhood into her quiet friendliness and strength. Bull held back a sigh, smoke searing his throat in a comforting way. Alley bowed his head and plopped down beside his pack, settling in for the night.

"My dad smoked cigars all his life," Verity mentioned. "Still does, I bet. He always said I could try one when I was older." A soft chuckle. "He even said that the day I left."

Bull held his cigar out in front of him as if appreciating it anew, then passed it to her. She accepted the offering with reverence, and the humble surprise on her face made Bull wonder how such a benign creature had made it this far in a war. On her first puff, she coughed, and for a while, too, but the second time, she tasted the smoke and felt her lungs fill with an artificial, smoky warmth she didn't altogether dislike. She thanked Bull with a slight raspiness in her voice, and he hummed a note of recognition as he tucked it back between his lips where it best belonged.

"Cigarette?" Penkala offered when she stepped up to him and several other friends around twenty minutes later, but she shook her head.

"Had my fill of smoking tonight. Thanks, though."

"Suit yourself."

"I think the wind's let up," she said, although her buddies were all huddling into their clothing to try and keep warm, clustered as close as briars in a bush.

"Maybe," Malarkey agreed. "I hope it has."

"I think you're right, Red," Skip declared. "The snow's lighter and the wind isn't comin' in, ah- what's the word, Private Poet?"

"Gusts?"

"Yeah, that's it." Skip rubbed his hands together, then stuck them under his armpits, a position several of the others already held. "Hey, you seen any Germans around, Red?"

"No, things've been pretty quiet with my platoon. You?"

"Same here."

"Yeah, not even somebody shoutin' for sauerkraut."

Verity chuckled along with the others. "Evening, Luz."

"How's it goin', Red?" He bumped his shoulder against hers, almost at the same height. "Was it you that built that snowman by CP?"

"No, not me," she said, "but I kinda wish it was. Sounds like a good bit of fun."

"Then let's do it tomorrow," Skip declared, and the group all nodded along.

"Just so long as we can make it look like Dike," Penkala chuckled, and Verity snickered into her scarf.

"Hey, speakin' o' Dike..." George shuffled a bit closer, and the rest of the group followed suit. "You fellas know I got no reason to bullshit ya, right?"

"Yeah, right," Skip said before he was even done speaking, and Penkala and Malarkey laughed while Verity elbowed Skip in mock disapproval.

"I'm not gonna bullshit ya," George protested. "This is what I saw. It's so unbelievable, ya might not believe it."

The wind kicked up, but the friends hardly realized it, focusing on the much more pleasant thing that was George's story. Verity

"You-know-who comes runnin' up to Lip. He's got no helmet, no gear, no nothin'. Ah- First Sergeant Lipton?"

Verity nearly choked on the precious sip of water she'd just taken from her canteen as Luz abruptly switched from his own voice to a brilliant impression of Lieutenant Dike.

"You- organize things here- and I'm- gonna go- for- help."

The stunted cadence and the voice itself- it was quite spot-on. Verity laughed along with Skip, Penk, and Malark, and she could tell Luz was trying not to grin as he went on.

"I need to go polish my oak-leaf clusters!"

More laughter. Skip shook his head, grinning in the disbelief they all wished was real.

"Complete asshole," he said, and George's wide-eyed impression of Dike finally split into a smile of his own. Verity's giggling was only stopped when he turned a mischievous and slightly proud gaze on her, and she realized he meant to continue the scene.

"And then Victory Riches here," he declared, "starts shoutin' after the idiot, brave as a lion." He cleared his throat. "Sir! Sir! Sir!"

"Luz," she groaned reluctantly, but he would not be dissuaded.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

As her friends looked to her, smiling in shock, Verity withdrew her hand from her pocket and tugged at George's sleeve.

"Dike! Lieutenant Dike, you-"

"Hey, Luz- Luz! First off, that is not what I sound like-"

"Yes, it is," the other three chorused, and she made a face as they laughed.

"Secondly-" She frowned at George, and that got his attention. "-you can't go on like that, telling people what I said."

"Hell, Red," George teased, "I woulda thought you'd be preenin' like a peacock. I'm makin' you the hero, here. What'd you call him again? A 'fucking coward'?"

His grin soothed some of her cares, and her buddies teasingly jostled her, impressed.

"A toothpick's more useful than that piece of shit, I'm with you on that," she agreed, lowering her voice in the hopes it would persuade him to do the same, "but you gotta keep what I said on the down-low."

"Why?" George asked, and he wasn't the only one to do so.

"Dike's an idiot, but he's still our CO. There's plenty he could do if... Well, I don't mean to make anybody more important than anybody else, but so far as I can tell, we can't spare anybody off the line. And that includes you."

"And you," Penkala agreed. "'Specially if word gets 'round it was you that said all that."

"Exactly." Verity shot George a semi-apologetic look. "I just don't wanna see anybody in hot water- not me, but especially not you, not any of you."

"Hell, I dunno about you, but hot water..."

The entire crew sighed, wistful.

"But really- you're always lookin' out for us, Red." Skip clapped her on the shoulder. "Sometimes, I dunno what we'd do without ya."

She blushed as her friends began to hear-hear, but they were interrupted by Lipton clearing his throat and nodding George and Verity over to him.

"You're just as good as me, Skippy old boy. Better, really." She glanced to the other three, a smile appearing on her lips. "You all are."

"Aww, don't go all soft on us now, Red," Penk teased as the group began to disperse.

"Now?" she chuckled. "I thought that happened years ago."

"Alright." Malarkey nodded, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. "Goodnight, all."

"Yeah," Skip agreed, "see ya, Luz! See ya, Red! See you, Malark."

"'Night, everybody," Verity called over her shoulder as she and George came up to Lip, who was shivering just as much as anybody but looked a bit colder than most.

"What can we do for you, Sarge?"

"Two things," Lip replied as the trio strolled a few steps away from eavesdropping ears. "First- great impression of Dike."

"You think so?" George couldn't help his smile. "I thought it was a little off."

"Nah, you got it pretty good. Second- don't do it anymore. Especially the part about what he said to me."

They stopped walking, and Verity glanced aside towards a tired-looking tree (they were all tired-looking, really), gathering she wasn't yet meant to be part of the discussion. The falling snow made for a captivating visual. It might have been pleasant, to stand out here in the night and feel it fall upon her shoulders and head and eyelashes, had the circumstances been anything but what they were.

"And," Lip added, "especially don't repeat what Rich said."

Verity turned back, but the sergeant didn't look mad or disappointed, just weary and careful. Her anxiety at the summons dissipated as she remembered he only meant to protect them. George took a drag from his cigarette, listening well.

"Doesn't do anybody any good, okay?"

"Yeah," George agreed, "I gotcha."

"And Rich?"

"Yes, sir?"

Lip paused as if he'd almost forgotten his station, and he reached to pat her arm, just once. "Be more careful from here on out, okay? I know you're not usually like that- like how you were yesterday -but... try to keep a low profile the next few days, just in case."

Verity grimaced. "Not like he's around enough to track me down, sarge."

Lip frowned. "Rich-"

Quickly, she added, "I'll stick to the edge of the pack, Lip, I promise."

"Alright," he said, keeping an eye on both her and George as they slowly began to depart. George yawned dramatically and as Verity stifled her laughter into her scarf, she heard Lip chuckling behind them.

"Wiseass."

Chuckling, George and Verity went on their way. George took the last puff he could get out of his cigarette and as he flicked its glowing nub aside, Verity opened her mouth to say something about the snow that was never heard by his ears, nor hers. A shell exploded deafeningly near, and as George toppled towards the ground, she scrambled to keep him upright. She was shouting for him to run, to hurry, but he pushed her aside as he grasped for his helmet, and they ended up racing in separate directions. The snow's flurry was nothing in comparison to the storm raging all around, on high as well as upon the earth. Verity was alone, and then she wasn't, tumbling into an occupied foxhole, the weight of her pack hitting the back of her head hard enough to bring stars to her vision.

"Jesus!" came a shout that somehow cut through the cacophony. "Shit, Red, you okay?"

She didn't have it in her to respond other than nodding, and that sent her vision spotting again, so she stopped. She clumsily rolled over and stared up past the log ceiling she'd narrowly missed hitting her head against during her fall. The sky was as bright as day, and she hated it. Now it wasn't just snow flying through the air, but debris from the trees and the ground and, worst of all, the soldiers. She tried to hope it was just somebody's blanket torn to shreds by that blast over there, an unattended blanket, to little avail. And then the barrage stopped, and she was still there, staring out into the cataclysm, lights flashing behind her eyes though the sky was dark once more. Malarkey shook her by the arm but she didn't respond, and he and Alton More left her there as they carefully got up and checked out the damage. Every bombardment felt like the first and the last all at once- for some, it was. Two replacements from Dog Company died that day, a sergeant from Fox, a runner from Battalion...

The hardest pill to swallow came eleven minutes past midnight, conveyed to a still-stagnant Verity by a dull-eyed Lieutenant Shames. She listened through frozen ears, one tired and one maimed. All the breath left her body. She brought her hands up over her mouth with such vehemence, she nearly broke her nose.

Skip, always laughing just as hard at his own jokes as at somebody else's, the adventurer, the one who loved Faye Tanner more than life itself.

Penkala, always snacking on some sudden treat, the mediator, the one Verity always felt the most akin to.

They first said hello to her on that bus to Toccoa, grinning across the aisle, offering her the corner of a granola bar and their friendship-

But they never said goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*All credits for screencaps of Skip and Penkala go to the delightful @tvserie-s-world. 💕

#verity/victor rich #verity/victor rich ficlet #verity/victor rich 101: what pain there might have been #band of brothers #in defense of chicanery #perrine blomme/perry bloom #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #tw: violence #tw: explosions #tw: war

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labarboteuse · 3 years

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Your requests are open?! I'd love to ask for something with Babe, if you don't mind luv 🥰

Hello dear! You asked for it and here it is! Sorry it took so long. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy ! ❤️

As always, there's no disrespect towards the real men of the company. It's only based on their portrayals in the mini serie.

The scarf (Edward "Babe" Heffron x reader)

After months of trying to hide their relationship from others, Babe and the reader are finally getting busted.

Warning: coarse language

Also I’m creating a taglist, tell me in comment if you want to be added and be notified of the following ones! ☺️

Recently arrived in Germany the Company had moved to Landsberg am Lech, a town in Bavaria, and their mission had become much calmer than it had been in Bastogne and Haguenau. Everyone was enjoying the nice weather of April and went about their business while waiting for orders. Y/N had enjoyed this morning to sit quietly in a corner and write letters to her family and friends, informing them she was still alive, that she was fine and that she was now in Germany. She had then gone to the post office where Allen Vest was in charge of the mail.

“Morning Vest!” She sang in a cheerful voice as she approached the counter where she put down her letters and dragged them towards him.

“Hi Y/N, hey, that's a lot of letters for one person.”

She smiled and put her both hands on the counter, tapping the varnished wood with her fingertips. Indeed, she had taken the time to write to her parents, her sister, her uncle and a general letter addressed to her group of friends who met each time to read her letters.

“Yes, I’m enjoying this time of lull, after all we don’t know where we’re going to be sent next time.”

Allen took the letters while gently smiling at her and then went to the back of the room to classify the letters to be sent and rummaging through a pile of other letters he came back to her one in his hand.

“I thought well I saw one with your name on it.”

He reached out to her and was about to add something when the door opened sharply and Speirs appeared with his arms full of objects shining in the sunlight. As he approached the counter, Allen nodded to Y/N to make her understand he had to take care of Speirs. She smiled at him and walked out of the building with her letter in her hands. She immediately recognized the fine italicized handwriting and smiled excited to know what it was about. She walked along the buildings as she read the letter, which provoked a huge smile on her lips when she was suddenly pulled into a corner between two buildings and drawn away from prying eyes.

She began to laugh as the man who had lured her there, placed behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, came to place a kiss on her neck and put his head on her shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

“We've literally been living together for eight months.” She laughed, placing her hands on his forearms resting on her belly.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He moaned as he put his chin on her shoulder and looked at the letter she was still holding in her hands. “What is it?”

She looked down at the letter and unfolded it to put it in front of his eyes.

“My sister announces me that she’s finally getting married! It's planned for next winter, she obviously hopes that by then it will all be over and I'll be home.” Her voice became lower and dull at the end of her sentence. Of course everyone was hoping for it, but no one really knew what tomorrow was all about and where they would be and when.

Babe tightened his clinch and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you planning to go alone?” His question caused her to pout and then she laughed.

“Are you asking me if, if all this happy mess is over, I'll ask you to come with me?” He shrugged his shoulders and had a sly smile. “We don't even know where we'll be, and let's say we go back, we'll pick up our lives where we left it off, and they probably weren't going in the same direction.” She continued.

She fell silent and stared at the letter in her hands, for the few months she have been going out with Babe she had never thought what would happen once they got home, if they got home. Babe untied his arms around her and slid his hands over her hips to make her turn to him.

“I know that wherever yours goes, I will follow it.”

Her heart clutched to his words, she had not expected him to make this kind of announcement at all, the smile on his face made her melt and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him tenderly and then came to put her head on his shoulder. They stayed hidden like that for a few minutes, taking advantage of finally being able to speak to each other with more than just distant smiles.

Since the Company had returned to England after the D-Day and had met the replacements Y/N and Babe had become inseparable, at last, until they started dating. They had chosen not to tell the others about it so that the others wouldn’t spend their time teasing them. They had managed to keep the secret until now, which had been difficult since they were constantly surrounded by the other men. In order to prevent them from suspecting something Y/N and Babe had to stick to the friendly relationship that the others knew about them. Nevertheless, they had always managed to slip away for a moment for a hug or a kiss, all the way to Bastogne. They had never been so far away from each other when they were closer than ever physically. Being constantly surrounded by others in the middle of the woods and sharing their foxholes with different people, they could only look at each other from a distance. At best, they sat next to each other during the few moments when everyone was together, constantly living with the frustration of, at least, not being able to touch each other's hands.

A couple of times, Babe had managed join her when she was alone, while McClung, with who she was shearing her foxhole, was going out for a ride. But it had happened only a few times, and further apart so as not to arouse suspicion. These times would had been counted on the fingers of only one hand. She too had sometimes managed to join him but unfortunately they were almost never alone. One of the only contacts they could have had without anyone questioning was when Julian was killed, she would have died of pain if she hadn't been able to comfort him, it was the only time they could hold each other without it seeming weird. After that, for several days, it had been unbearable for him not to be able to take her in his arms when it was she who started brooding. To be able to take her in his arms, to interlace her fingers with his own, to caress her cheek and whisper to her that everything would be all right. This time he had been on the verge of cracking up, because instead of his place, there was Toye. Joe was constantly near her to cheering up her moral and several times had taken her in his arms. Bill's recurring jokes about Toye flirting with Y/N were upsetting Babe, who would have wanted told his friend to shut up. Being almost always with Guarnere, he therefore constantly heard his jokes. His only comfort was the smiles and looks of Y/N to reassure him.

But now they were away from it all, they just had to take advantage of the lull that presented itself and allowed them to spend time together out of sight.

“We'd better get to the others before they wonder where we are.” She reluctantly detached herself from him. “You're leaving first?” Obviously they weren’t to be seen coming out of a corner together, that would have been the worst thing to attract attention.

He nodded and kissed her before taking a look at the street so he can get out. Y/N waited few minutes before being able to follow in his footsteps and reached the building where she was staying. Entering the building, she heard noises coming from one of the rooms of the first floor which was a big living-room and headed there. Liebgott was sitting on a chair, crossed legs on the table, was discussing with Popeye and Babe who had probably come here voluntarily to be in the same vicinity as her, which had the merit of making her smile, was leaning next to them against a piece of furniture. She joined them as Alley, Talbert, Janovec, and More arrived in the biggest racket they could make and took their places around the table.

Y/N remained standing on the other side of the table, leaning against the wall, while Babe in front of her was join by Skinny who had just arrived. Her eyes were drawn to something sticking out of Babe's pocket, her heart quickened and she tried to catch his attention with desperate glances, if he didn't notice then they were busted.

A small scarf she had given him was sticking out of his jacket pocket. She had taken with her a scarf that had belonged to her grandmother and that she had recovered when she died. She had always kept it on her ever since and had always managed to hide it so that it wouldn't be taken away like the rest of their personal belongings when she arrived in Toccoa. She valued it very highly, and when she was feeling bad, she would take it out and hold it close to her, remembering happy memories of her grandmother who she missed terribly.

The only person today for who she had been able to part with it, was someone who meant as much to her as her grandmother, Babe. She gave it to him as the most important thing for her, making him understand how much she cared for him. As they didn’t belong to the same platoon they were not always brought to be close to each other, and the scarf was like her presence to him, so that somehow they are always together. Since then he kept it preciously knowing what it meant to her.

When Babe's gaze caught hers, she tried to make him understand that the object was sticking out of his pocket by throwing looks at him and then at his pocket several times before anyone saw it, but he didn't understand and it was too late. Joe had turned his head to address him and his gaze had landed on the object of the crime. With a small laugh he gently pulled it out.

“Well, well, well, what do we have there? Isn't there something you're not telling us Babe?”

Embarrassed, he understood what she had wanted to warn him about and babbled, not knowing what to say. Y/N came to his rescue, looking surprised, she approached Joe and took the scarf of his hands.

“Eh that’s mine! Where did you find it?”

It took Babe a split second before he realized she was saving his ass and played along.

“I found it by chance on the floor this morning and I was going to bring it back to you, it must have slipped my mind in the meantime.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked sorry.

Joe looked at them suspiciously, not at all convinced, his gaze going back and forth between Y/N and Babe who unfortunately always seemed embarrassed. Feeling Joe's insistent gaze on her, she finally dropped a “What?” He squinted his eyes as if he was trying to read her soul.

“Throw out the crap that burns your lips, Joe.”

“Are you two fucking together?”

All heads turned to Y/N and Babe, some surprised, others giving the impression of having heard the biggest gossip of the century.

“No!” They both exclaimed.

“He’s like my baby brother!”

Babe flinched at her words, he knew she was just saying that to keep up appearances, but all the same, this false friendzoning was rather violent.

“So you're fucking your baby brother?” Joe continued with a smirk on his face, still not believing it for a second.

“Jeez, Joe!” She exclaimed in disgust.

Malarky arrived at that moment having only heard the end of the conversation.

“Who's fucking who?”

“Y/N is debauching Babe.” Laughed More.

“Jeez!” Malark exclaimed as he sat down, a more than amused look on his face.

“Stop it! All of you! Nobody fucks anybody!”

Babe was still silent next to her, completely uptight. The boys were laughing at their greatest embarrassment when Luz, who had heard only fragments of the conversation from the next room, arrived with a cigarette lit.

“Who's gonna have a baby?”

Which fueled the boys' hilarity, Y/N raised her hands and clenched them in fists and roared in frustration before going out cursing them. As for Babe, he didn't know what to do, if he stayed there he was going to be teased by his friends, but if he followed her he would agree with them and would grill himself.

With her cheeks on fire, Y/N left the building to get some fresh air, finding a small wall in the shade and, away from the crowd, she sat down and lit a cigarette before puffed at it when a shadow came and hid the sun from her. She raised her head, squinting because of the brightness, and reached out her arm, offering her cigarette to Luz who had just joined her. He picked it up and as he held it to his lips, sat down on the wall beside her.

“You and Babe then?” he asked with a sly smile on his lips. So her diversion hadn't worked, at least she had tried. She turned her head towards him raising an eyebrow, a slight smile on the corners of her lips as she waited for him to pull out a joke. But he didn't, instead, he took the cigarette from his lips with his right hand, and as he blew the smoke, passed his left arm around her shoulders.

“If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have accepted it. But Heffron? I can get used to it.”

She laughed and took the cigarette from his hands and puffed at it again.

“Is this your way to give me your blessing?”

George was the person she was closest to since Toccoa. Even without the incident that had just happened, he had probably guessed what had been going on for a few months. The two had quickly went together like horse and carriage, they had found each other in their humour, and their ability to make others laugh and make jokes. George soon considered her as a little sister and she as a big brother. As soon as the replacements had arrived he saw that she and Babe had gradually grown closer and that they had probably become more than friends. He had been happy for her and continued to look after her from afar.

“So everyone knows about it? Or did you just sniff it out?” She asked, shoving him gently, which made him giggle.

“Let's say I've seen you gradually change, especially when you're with him.”

If the others probably didn't suspect anything, after the scene that just happened, they will most likely have suspicions.Y/N bit the inside of her cheek and made a grimace that made George smile and took the cigarette out of her hand.

“What are you worried about? No one will say anything, at worst they will tease you for a while before they get bored and move on.”

“That's exactly what we wanted to avoid.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know it will be just joking, in all kindness.”

She turned her eyes towards him and he gently pushed her around, which made her smile. George was right, there wouldn't be anything mean about it, and she never doubted it, it would just make her embarrassed that everyone would turn to them and tease them every time they were in each other's presence. But as he said, it would only be temporary, the time they spend on something else.

“You're right, it wouldn't be the end of the world, and we wouldn't have to hide anymore.”

He nodded his head and winked at her.

“Listen to the voice of reason.” She guffawed what made him smile, he stood up and kissed her on the forehead before returning to the building. Y/N stayed sitting on the wall for a few minutes thinking about what George had said. She had finally agreed with herself that her fear was unjustified, the Company members were so benevolent to each other, why would they go against this relationship? Other than to tease and embarrass them, what could they possibly say? They were already spending all their time making fun of each other and joking that nothing would be different. It was out of fear of being embarrassed by the mockery of others that they had chosen to hide, when they would only be mocked among so many others. She shook her head gently as she realized that this decision had been ridiculous. To have done otherwise would surely have saved them from frustration when they had found themselves far away when they needed each other the most. They had to stop hiding, and once the others knew about it, they could enjoy each other in peace. Loud noises of voices caught her attention and she turned her head towards the group of men a few yards away. She put out her cigarette and stood up to see what was going on. Two groups had formed, one playing soccer and the other surrounding them, each one cheering for the team they stood for.

She saw Babe from afar and made her way to him. As she stood next to him, she slipped her hand into his as he turned his head towards her with a questioning look. Y/N gave him a warm smile that he returned to her. To hell with what they might say.

#band of brothers #babe heffron #edward heffron #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers request

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kropotkindersurprise · 4 years

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I just finished reading Bloods; An oral history of the Vietnam war by black veterans by Wallace Terry. It’s a good book, and it has a lot of interesting accounts of the daily life before, during, and after the Vietnam war of African-American Vietnam veterans, but mostly it’s just page upon page of horrific, senseless war crimes.

However, there are also some heartwarming accounts of men threatening, attacking, and fragging officers and racists, of which I wanted to share a few.

Harold “Light Bulb“ Bryant:

Well, I ran into this officer. Second Lieutenant. Just got out of OCS. He asked me if I was authorized to wear a combat infantryman’s badge and jump wings. I told him, “You damn right. I earned them.“ He didn’t like that answer. So I said, “You can harass me now, sir, but you can’t go over in Vietnam and do that shit.“ [...]

So when I heard he had orders for ‘Nam, I went and found him and laughed at him and told him that he wasn’t gon’ make it back. “Somebody’s gon’ kill you,“ I said. “One of your own men is gon’ kill you.“

Richard J. Ford III:

In the rear sometimes we got a grenade, dump the gunpowder out, break the firing pin. Then you’ll go inside one of them little bourgeois clubs. [...] We act real crazy. Yell out, “Kill all y’all motherfuckers!“ Pull the pin and throw the grenade. And everybody would haul ass and get out. It would make a little pop sound. And we would laugh. You didn’t see anybody jumpin’ on them grenades.

One time we saw these [Confederate] flags in Nha Trang on the MP barracks. They was playing hillbilly music. Had their shoes off dancing. Had nice, pretty bunks. Mosquito nets over the top of the bunks. And had the nerve to have this camouflaged covers. Air conditioning. Cement floors. We just came out the jungles. We dirty, we smelly, hadn’t shaved. We just went off. Said, “Y’all the real enemy. We stayin’ here.“ We turned the bunks over, started tearing up the stereo. They just ran out. Next morning, they shipped us back up.

Before I went home, the company commanders in Bravo and Echo got killed. And rumor said their own men did it. Those companies were pressed because the captains do everything by the book. And the book didn’t work for Vietnam. They had this West Point thing about how you dug a foxhole at night. Put sandbags around it. You couldn’t expect a man to cut through that jungle all day, then dig a hole, fill up the sandbags, then in the morning time dump the sandbags out, fill your foxhole back up, and then cut down another mountain.

Guys said the hell with some foxhole. And every time you get in a fire fight, you looking around for somebody to cover your back, and he looking around to see where the captain is ‘cause he gon’ fire a couple rounds at him. See, the thing about Vietnam, your own men could shoot you and no one could tell, because we always left weapons around and the Viet Congs could get them.

Haywood T. Kirkland:

You would see the racialism in the base-camp area. Like red-necks flying rebel flags from their jeeps. I would feel insulated, intimidated. The brothers they was calling quote unquote troublemakers, they would send to the fields. A lot of brothers who had supply clerk or cook MOS when they came over ended up in the field. And when the brothers who was shot came out of the field, most of them got the jobs burning shit in these 50-gallon drums. Most of the white dudes got jobs as supply clerks or in the mess hall.

So we began to talk to each other, close our ranks, and be more organized amongst ourselves to deal with some of this stuff. The ones like me from the field would tell the brothers in base camp, “Look, man, you know how to use grenades. If you run into any problems, just throw a grenade in their hootch.“

Robert E. Holcomb:

One night, we had come in for a stand-down. I was laying in bed, just about to go to sleep. We hear this burst, and the bullets went through the tent. Everybody jumped off on the floor. We didn’t have any weapons, ‘cause they’d always disarm us when we came in. What happened was this black soldier had taken some drugs, and he just sort of went crazy. A lot of his anxieties and hostilities came out. He got an M-16, and he sprayed a Sergeant, killed him and two others.

After another stand-down, we lost a second-lieutenant. A white guy. He had been in country about six months. And he had made a lot of enemies because he was really tough on some of his people in the field even though the pullout had started. Someone wired a claymore mine to the door of his hootch.

Arthur E. “Gene“ Woodley, Jr.:

So on [this Sergeant’s] birthday, which was three days [after he demoted me], he was havin’ all the officers in his barracks. They was partyin’. Music was playin’. Me and some friends of mine got a M-79 grenade launcher, got behind some sandbags, and we M-79′ed his birthday party. A couple of people got hurt.

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luna-moon-26-20 · 3 years

Text

Foxhole Force EXTRA SCENE!

(TW for mentions of past drugging. Nothing much though)

Episode 5.5: Is that even legal?

—————————————————————————————————-

Half way through their morning shift, Andrew walked past him in the hallway that held the locker rooms. He called Neil's attention with a quick look and mumbled the words as he passed him.

"Meet me at the command centre at midnight"

Neil watched his retreating back as he asked. "Why?"

But the blond didn't answer. Neil frowned and pushed his cart forward. Andrew was certainly a cryptic one.

The past week at the youth centre had been a surprisingly quiet one, meaning he hadn't had to run off to save the city in a bright spandex suit, so Coach had made him focus on his training. Was Andrew supposed to give him another lesson? Neil gulped at the thought.

By now he already knew Coach had never tasked Andrew with the fake fighting lesson, that drugging him for his secrets had been all Andrew's idea and he'd just fallen for it like a fool, but at least he could admit that, even if the lesson had been an excuse, he'd picked up some useful pointers on how to fight unmorphed. Neil thought it was too bad he hadn't gotten the chance to try out the moves Andrew had taught him, but then again it was also a good thing he hadn't found himself in a tough situation unmorphed. Maybe if he asked Andrew... Nah, he would never agree. He would have to settle with Renee's lessons, not that they weren't useful, but it would’ve been good to test his new skills on someone else.

Neil shrugged. Maybe Andrew had decided to give him a new lesson all on his own. Why else would he have said to meet him at midnight? He was probably trying to avoid the others getting on his case about it. The rest of the foxes were never too lenient on him to begin with, not that he seemed to care, but ever since the fake training lesson situation they'd been more than hostile with him, specially if they caught them together, something that was a little difficult to avoid given that they had the same job. Neil didn't really understand why everyone else was so protective of him, mainly Allison, Matt and Dan. It's not like getting drugged is the worst thing that's ever happened to him, but he guessed the others didn't know that so... yeah, maybe Andrew wanted to give him another fighting lesson and was just avoiding the inconvenience that was everyone else knowing about it.

So when the time came and midnight rolled around, Neil put on some sweats and a t-shirt telling Matt, who had been nodding off on the couch in front of the tv, that he was going for a run.

If he was going to spend the next hour or so sparring, then running at least gave him an excuse to come back sweaty if anyone happened to see him.

When he reached the floor below, turns out that was not what the blond had in mind at all.

"Going somewhere?" the blond asked, seeing as Neil had jogged down the stairs in an effort to warm up some. Andrew himself was dressed comfortably in a dark pair of sweats and a short sleeved gray t-shirt. If anything, he looked like he could go to sleep in those clothes as soon as they were done doing whatever they were supposed to do. Now that he thought about it, it was the first time he saw the other boy wearing something other than long sleeves. There was a pair of black armbands covering from his wrists to his elbows on either arm, but Neil refrained from asking about them, mainly because Andrew kept looking expectantly at him for an answer.

"Umm..."

"Sit down" Andrew ordered and motioned to the main desk of the command centre, the one Dan always used. The blond rolled another chair closer to him.

"This is Dan's computer" Neil stated, hoping for an explanation.

"I am aware" an explanation that he didn't get.

"So what are we doing?"

Andrew pinned him with an assessing look before focusing his attention on the screen. "Looking for your mother in a smarter way"

The sudden mention of his mother had him stunned enough to let slide the jab about his last plan being stupid. Instead of that, he simply accepted Andrew's reply and nodded, taking his eyes off the blond and fixing them on the screen as well.

"How exactly are we doing that?"

"What's your mother's name?" Neil was caught off guard once again and he forced himself to meet the blond's eyes when Andrew stared unimpressed at him again. "You can at least tell me that if I'm going to help you find her"

The redhead gulped. "It's not that. It's... she's had so many names I wouldn't know which one to give you"

Andrew's gaze didn't waver. "Have you had many names?"

Neil took a minute before answering, avoiding Andrew's question completely.

"Try Annaleigh Peterson" but when the blond didn't move, Neil let out a huff. "What? It's not your turn to ask"

"You haven't used yours"

"Which still means it's not your turn to ask"

They stared unflinchingly at each other for a few seconds before Neil sighed, rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen.

"So what are you gonna do?"

To his credit, Andrew went back to business as well. "Cross reference every name you can give me with hospitals or police reports. Dan's network has access to many databases"

As he talked, Andrew typed in the name Annaleigh Peterson and a series of algorithms appeared on screen. The search was officially ongoing.

"Is that even legal?" Neil asked.

"Do you care?" fair enough. Neil shrugged.

"Not really"

As expected, the search turned up empty. The few Annaleigh Peterson's that popped up just didn't match the mental picture he had of his mother.

"Give me another name"

And so Neil did.

"She wouldn't have gone to a hospital"

"Animal clinic?"

"Uh-uh"

"Let's try another name"

It went on like this for some time. Andrew asked a name, typed it in and they watched as every coincidence ended in a disappointing result.

"You see why I went looking for her on the streets? She would never go to a hospital, she'd stay away from the news and she wouldn't have gotten caught by the police"

"You make her sound like a ghost”

Neil sighed and leaned back on the chair. "That's what she taught me to be too"

Neil didn't see him, but he could almost picture the arched eyebrow Andrew most definitely sent his way. Neil thought he was being a bit dramatic too. But hey, it was past midnight and this was sensitive subject for him, so he cut himself some slack.

After another beat, Andrew spoke again. "I'm assuming we haven't tried her real name"

Neil's eyes widened marginally. "God, no. She would never..."

"Are you sure you're not telling me because I might find out who your father is through her?"

"What?" Neil's heart rate spiked at the words. "No, no. She just... she would never use that name. Ever. It's not that I... I mean, I told you I don't want you to—"

"Relax. I won't"

When Andrew went back to the search, Neil let out an inaudible breath and straightened himself on the chair. Andrew had promised he wouldn't ask about his father and though it was too soon to tell, so far the other boy had kept his word. No, Andrew wouldn't ask. Neil had to believe that.

"What are you doing now?" Neil asked, seeing as Andrew began typing again.

"Searching for Jane Does"

Neil stuttered on his next breath. "Why?"

"You've been assuming she's alive. What if she's not?"

"She's not dead"

"How would you know?"

"I..."

"It's worth a shot" Andrew said with an indifferent shrug, as if he hadn't just come up with the idea of his mother being dead at all. But Neil refused to believe it. He refused to believe that after all this time, after everything he'd done to find her, she would just be dead at the end of the road. Still, he found himself at the edge of his seat, leaning closer to the screen as Andrew went through all the Palmetto Police reports about a Jane Doe.

"Do you recognize any of them?"

Neil was nauseated enough he could only shake his head no.

"Well, this was productive" Andrew said with what Neil assumed was sarcasm but he couldn't be entirely sure. The blond closed every tab on the screen and opened a new one. "Time to try it your way"

"What do you mean?"

"You went door to door hoping to find people who could forge documents. I'm gonna find them through the police records, make a list and then we can see about paying them a visit. Quietly, not with the ruckus you made last time"

Neil's cheeks burnt hot with embarrassment but he stayed silent as Andrew worked on what was probably more illegal hacking. "How do you know how to do that?"

The blond didn't take his eyes off the screen as he answered. "I'm smart"

Neil couldn't really deny that but he decided to snort out of principle.

"There. That's as much as we can do from here tonight" he said after a while and Neil glanced at the time at the bottom of the screen to realize it was already 1:20 a.m.

"Right. We should probably go upstairs. We have work in the morning" Neil got up from the chair and stretched his stiff back until he heard a satisfying pop. "So when are we hitting these places?"

For some reason, Andrew glared at him as if he'd personally offended him with that question. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Andrew probably didn't like him very much and that he was helping him look for his mother out of a sense of obligation more than anything. It was easy to forget because the blond could go from drugging him and wanting to figure him out to ignoring him for days on end in the span of mere days. As always, dealing with Andrew Minyard was an unpredictable affair.

"I'll let you know" he said and Neil shrugged in acknowledgement before heading back upstairs. Andrew didn't inmediately follow but Neil didn't think much about that.

When he reached his apartment at the end of the hall, he crept silently back to his room. He didn't know when he'd go out again to search for his mother but, no matter when, at least there was something he could agree with Andrew on: he needed to go about it more quietly than before. He couldn't let his impatience and desperation get to him again or he risked leaving a trail behind him for his father's people to pick up. If doing that meant following Andrew's lead for a while, then it was a compromise he was willing to make.

He also refused to believe his mother was dead, there was just no way. His mother was strong and she was smart. She would have found a way to survive and she was probably out there looking for him right now. Yes. She must be. He was sure.

Neil sighed and got ready for bed. Whatever happened at least he knew he wasn't alone anymore and that was more than he had three weeks ago when he'd arrived to the city of Palmetto.

A warm hum spread on his chest all the way up to his mind and Neil smiled softly up at the ceiling. The Red Fox agreed with him.

He wasn't alone.

Not anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

So this ended up being a bit longer than anticipated but I thought you guys wouldn’t mind so... there.

I’m working on Episode 6 as we speak so hopefully I’ll post a preview soon 😇

#all for the game #power rangers #aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #aftg fandom #ao3 #fanart #multichapter

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Sing Me a Song (Joseph Liebgott x reader)

Can be read as a reader or OFC piece. I was playing around with writing in first person.

The song referenced is Only Forever by Bing Crosby.

Warnings: um...none really. fluff?

Tags: @evelynshelby

It was a cold, white hell. Snow covered everything. Well everything that had not been destroyed by the most recent barrage. The air was frigid, the cold seeping into my clothes until it felt like my bones had been replaced with icicles. Splintered trees surrounded us, an ode to the destruction we faced. Stains on the ground reminded us where someone had been hit, either injured or died.

The only thing that made this place even remotely tolerable was my fellow paratroopers...and him.

I sat next to Muck, sides pressed against one another with the idea of sharing warmth. Even if neither one of us had warmth to share. Our legs dangled over the side of Luz's foxhole, listening to him and Malark joke about something. A few other guys were around, listening in and adding their own commentary. Specifically, he sat across from me in the foxhole, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, fingers tapping out a silent beat on his thigh.

I remember the exact moment I met Joseph Liebgott. I knew he would be trouble for me. That messy hair, dark eyes and the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. Sure I found that attractive and his dry humor always made me laugh. Although his stubbornness and ability to pick a fight with almost anyone did irk me. He was untouchable. It was obvious he was a ladies-man, and knew it. I was...well, not someone typically picked up at a bar. I had always been alright with my lack of male attention, but for once, I wish I knew how to charm and flirt, to beguile a man and have the audacity to kiss one.

But that was not me. So I sat and watched from the sidelines.

"What the fuck are they singing about now?" Liebgott complained, glaring across the no-man's land between us and the Germans in the Bois Jacques.

Sure enough, German singing could be heard, carrying with the wind. They seemed to be singing more lately, either to boost their own morale or annoy the Americans.

It sure got a rise out of some of the paratroopers.

"They just serenading you, Joe." Malark joked then called over to a passing Sergeant, "Ain't that right, Lip?"

Lipton just shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "Whatever you say, Malark. You boys make sure to keep your heads down. Ma'am too." He kept walking, probably to find Dike.

I giggled, smiling as Lipton walked away. No matter how many times I told him to stop, he still called me 'ma'am'. Something about it being disrespectful and even in the middle of a war his mother would find him and spank him with her wooden spoon if she thought he was being disrespectful.

Liebgott kept scowling. "Well I wish they'd shut the fuck up." He mumbled something under his breath, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"Oh I see, you prefer me to serenade you." Luz smiled. "I mean, all you had to do was ask, really. Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping…"

"Shut it. I'm sick of your singing."

"Joe…" I reprimanded softly. He glanced over at me and gave the briefest of winks. That simple action, every time, always set my cheeks ablaze and a fire in my belly. I scrubbed a hand over my face, praying no one saw how flustered I was.

"Well what do you want? Not a lot of options here, unless you know where some band is hiding nearby." Muck said, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"Shit, I don't know. I just miss music, good music I guess. Always had the radio playing in my cab."

My heart broke at the forlorn look on his face. We all had our moments where the longing for home, to be anywhere but this terrible place, overwhelmed us. It was up to our friends around to cheer us up, however they could, but lately it was getting harder and harder to do. The constant threat of bombardment, the frigid cold, lack of food and watching our friends get injured and/or die. It killed the small hints of hope left in us. That we would survive. That we would escape this place.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh, some song probably playing in his head. Even those around us had grown silent, lost in their own memories of before. Who knew such a simple thing as music could be so meaningful.

"I'll sing for you."

Then I realized the words I blurted out. Shit.

"Yeah? You sing?"

Luz butted in. "Since when do you sing? And why are we hearing about this now? We could have been singing duets this whole time!"

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Liebgott. "I used to sing in school. Nothing special."

That may have been the biggest lie of my life. I used to sing all the time, whenever I could. I even sang for our local radio a couple times. Then war happened. It did not feel right to sing during training, just gave Sobel another reason to despise me, and here surrounded by blood and bullets, I did not even think about it.

For him though, I would do it. To make him smile in this frozen hell. I would sing for him.

"What are you going to sing?"

"What would you like?"

He paused for a moment before smirking. "Surprise me."

Well there was no going back now. Butterflies were throwing a lively party in my belly, my hands were sweaty and my mind continued to berate me for my idiotic decisions. I pushed it all away. I had survived D-Day. I had helped take Carentan. I had fought at the Crossroads. I could sing one song for the man that made my knees weak with a wink.

Right?

Shit.

Carefully I stood up, dusting the snow off my ODs as I mentally chose a song. What did I want to sing? In my mind I imagined myself back home, the sun shining on my face, sand between my toes and the sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. Then I imagined him next to me. A huge smile on his face, like the ones from back in Toccoa when he would hide Guarnere's boots just to see him furious and swearing to make even a sailor blush.

So I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and let the song pour forth.

Do I want to be with you

As the years come and go

Only forever

If you care to know.

Would I grant all your wishes

And be proud of the task

Only forever

If someone should ask.

How long would it take me

To be near if you beckon?

Off hand I would figure

Less than a second.

Do you think I'll remember

How you looked when you smile?

Only forever

That's puttin' it mild.

When I finished the song, barely a sound was heard. Self-conscious, I opened my eyes to meet the stares and dropped jaws of my fellow paratroopers.

I met those dark eyes that I adored and softly said, "happy Hanukkah, Joe."

Then my nerves gave out and I quickly dropped back down to sit next to Muck.

"What the hell was that? Were you planning on keep that from us this whole time?" Luz demanded, looking both offended and awed.

I just shrugged.

"That was beautiful." Muck whispered, nudging me in the side.

"Thank you."

Buck called my name from behind, so I turned to see all the officers standing nearby probably making a plan since Dike was not around. Honestly I was mortified that they had heard also but the smiles on their faces alleviated some of the anxiety. "From now on, only you should be singing for Easy."

"Hey!" Luz placed a hand over his heart, cigarette between his fingers. "You wound me, Buck. You love my singing."

"Keep telling yourself that, George."

Smiling at their silly antics, I was glad the attention was momentarily off me but I knew it would not be for long. It had felt good to sing again. I wondered if my self-imposed denial was without merit. If it boosted the morale of my friends, was it selfish of me to hold back? I figured I should talk to Doc about it later. He gave the best advice.

"You sang that….for me?"

The question startled me out of my musings. I looked over the foxhole to see Liebgott staring at me with an intensity I had never seen before. It made a fire grow in my belly and my toes curl.

I nodded, biting my chapped lip.

His eyes bore into mine for a long moment. Then without warning, he shoved off the side of the foxhole he sat on and in two steps stood before me. Before a word could escape me, his lips crushed against mine with an almost bruising passion.

It felt as if the world faded away and the only thing that mattered was his soft, equally chapped lips, his warm breath and the feeling of his hands cupping my cheeks. Once my brain restarted, I kissed him back with equal passion. For a moment I was unsure if this was a dream or real. Either way I intended to enjoy it. I knocked his helmet off so I could card my fingers through his messy hair like I had fantasized about so many times. It was greasy and dirty but it was perfect.

Eventually the world resumed and I could hear the hooting and cheering of the guys around us. I pulled back slightly from Liebgott, my cheeks flaming from more than just the cold.

"Hell of a kiss you laid on her, Joe." Malarkey teased.

"Hell of a dame." Liebgott replied, his eyes never leaving mine as one of his thumbs brushed gently over my swollen, bottom lip. I could not help the small smile, amazed that this was real.

Quickly he snuck a brief kiss once more before pulling himself up and sitting next to me, his arm tucking me into his side. Not that I complained.

"Why don't you kiss me after I sing to you? Huh?" Luz pouted but the huge smile on his face gave him away.

"I guess you didn't know the right song."

They laughed at my joke, the tension that typically hung over us like an axe gone for the time. The guys heckled one another and tried to convince me to sing again amidst pretending to recreate The Kiss scene Liebgott and I just gave them, like some high school play.

The snow and cold seeped through our clothes, threatening that we would never feel warmth again. The enemy sat in wait not far from us. For now, I pretended those dangers were imaginary. I laughed as Luz tried to sing like me, only to fail spectacularly, and be bombarded with snow balls.

Most of all, I felt a fresh breath of life in me as I scooted closer and laid my head on Liebgott's shoulder, his arm tight around my side. The faintest press of a kiss on the top of my head made my smile grow.

I wondered if I should have sang months ago or maybe it was this moment, that finally allowed me to show him how I felt.

His fingers thread through mine, and I realized it did not matter. I was happy. And that was something I planned on never letting go.

#easy company #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x ofc #george luz #donald malarkey #buck compton #skip muck #reader insert #mzwrites

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wonderful-writer · 4 years

Text

13 - Wartime

Summary: The camp prepares to make a trip to the ocean, but the grounder army puts a stop in their plans, forcing them back to camp to fight a war.

Word Count: 2.94k

Based Off: 01x13, “We Are Grounders, Part Two”

Everyone outside of the dropship prepared to leave while Clarke cauterized Raven’s wound and Finn held her hand.

“That should stop the external bleeding.” She put the knife in a basin and Finn started talking.

“I don’t understand, how did Murphy get a gun?” He asked.

“Long story,” Bellamy said.

“We got lucky,” Raven moaned. “If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we’d all be dead.”

“Wait, there’s rocket fuel down there?” Clarke asked the brunette. “Enough to build a bomb?”

“Enough to build 100 bombs.” Raven replied. “If we had any gunpowder left.”

“Let’s get back to the reapers.” Bellamy lifted Lincoln’s book to show a sketch of one. “Maybe they’ll help us.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” You asked.

“Not this enemy.” Clarke said. “We saw them. Trust me, it’s not an option.”

“There’s no time for this.” Finn chimed in. “Can she walk or not?”

“No.” Clarke responded. “We have to carry her.”

“The hell you will.” Raven tried to sit up. “I’m good to go.” Her attempts at sitting up were feeble, and she put herself in more pain trying to do so.

“Hey,” Clarke got her attention. “Listen to me. That bullet is still inside you. If, by some miracle, there’s no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?”

Raven nodded and laid back down on the table while Finn went to get the stretcher to put her on.

“Can’t run away fast enough, huh? That’s brave, real brave.” Bellamy commented in a snide tone.

Finn turned at his comment and walked back over to the man. “Dying in a fight you can’t win isn’t brave, Bellamy. It’s stupid.”

“Spoken like every coward who’s ever run from a fight.” Bellamy walked closer to Finn as he spoke, getting dangerously close. The tension in the room was high due to their verbal fight, and you could feel that this was going to escalate quickly.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You spoke up from beside Raven. “You two need to stop. We have to go.”

“If they follow, it’s a 120 mile walk to the ocean.” Bellamy informed you.

“Like I said,” You moved closer to Bellamy. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take to make sure my people don’t die.”

“Look, we’re wasting time.” Finn interrupted. “If he wants to stay, he can stay.”

“No, he can’t,” Clarke replied, but Finn was already out of the dropship. She turned and walked up to Bellamy to try and get him to come along.

“We can’t do this without you, Bellamy.” She told him.

“What do you want me to say, Clarke?” He replied angrily and with a steeled expression, keeping his gaze looking over her shoulder.

“I want you to say that you’re with us.” She said.

“Those kids out there,” You stepped in to help persuade him. “They listen to you, Bellamy.”

“They’re lining up to go. They clearly listen to you more.” He countered.

“We gave them an easy choice.” Clarke said. “But 5 minutes ago they were willing to fight and die for you. You inspire them.”

He looked up at the doors, and then to you without saying a word. “I’m afraid we’re gonna need that again before this day is through.”

She turned and walked out of the ship, while you took her spot in front of Bellamy and out a reassuring hand on his arm. “Come with us, Bellamy. You’re one of us, and like it or not, we need you.”

Not long after, everyone was ready to leave camp. The gunners were leading the walk to protect against any attacks, while the others stayed behind them and carried what they could. You and Clarke waited until everyone else was out of the camp to make your way to Bellamy, who was still looking at the ship.

“You did good here, Bellamy.” Clarke assured.

“18 dead.” He said.

“And 82 alive.” You countered. “You did good.”

He nodded and tossed a bucket of water onto the fire, throwing it to the ground and walking away with you and Clarke.

You’d walked a fair bit, keeping your hand on your sword’s hilt in case there was someone you needed to fight. It wasn’t very long until the group stopped moving, and from where you, Bellamy and Clarke were, you couldn’t see what was going on. It was then that you heard a loud thump and Jasper scream out that the grounders attacked did everyone rush to get back to camp.

You and Bellamy directed everyone inside the walls of camp and everyone moved to their own stations or foxholes, prepping hastily for the battle. You helped to close the door and unsheathed your sword while Bellamy was at the watchtower.

“Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive.” Clarke said, directing her sentence to Finn.

“If it’s just scouts then we can fight our way out.” Octavia chimed in. “That’s what Lincoln would do.”

“We’re done doing what that grounder would do.” Bellamy jumped down from his post. “We tried it and now Drew’s dead. Do you wanna be next?”

“That grounder saved our lives.” Finn defended. “I agree with Octavia. For all we know there’s one scout out there.”

“Yeah, a scout with insanely good aim.” Jasper said.

“Clarke, Y/n, we can still do this.” Octavia pleaded.

“Looking at you guys, what’s it gonna be?” Bellamy asked you. “Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?”

You took a mental step back and assessed the situation. If you agreed with Octavia and fought your way to the ocean, you might not make it out alive. The grounders would surround you and you’d be in their territory, vulnerable to a major loss. If you stayed in camp and tried to do what you could to fight, you’d have a better chance of surviving and you’d likely lose less people to the grounders.

You looked at Clarke and voiced your opinion as she looked out into the woods before jumping back down. “I say we’re staying. If we use everything we’ve got and fight like hell, we could actually make it out alive.”

“Clarke,” Finn grabbed the blonde’s arm. “If we’re still here when Tristan gets here-”

“Lincoln said ‘scouts’. More than one. He told us to get home before the scouts arrived. Finn, they’re already here.” She turned to Bellamy. “Looks like you’ve got your fight.”

“Okay then.” He spoke loudly to address the other campers. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. Kill them before they kill us.”

“Gunners, to your posts!” You shouted beside him. “Use the tunnels to get in and out. From now on, the gate stays closed.”

You watched everyone move into position as Octavia did, too, but Bellamy caught her arm, telling her she wasn’t a gunner and she defended herself before moving to the exit to help with the battle.

“So, how the hell do we do this?” Clarke asked. You all moved into the dropship to explain the plan and information you had to her, Finn, and Raven.

“We’ve got 25 rifles with 20 rounds each, give or take.” Bellamy said. “Roughly 500 rounds of ammo.”

“While you two were gone, we made some improvements.” You took over. “Thanks to Raven, the gully is mined.”

“Partially mined.” Raven corrected painfully. “Thanks to Murphy.”

“Still, it’s the main route in. If the grounders use it, we’ll know.” Bellamy told the room.

“She also made grenades.” You picked one up to show Clarke and Finn.

“There’s not many,” Clarke commented.

“Again. Thank you, Murphy.” Raven said sarcastically.

“We’ll make them count. If the grounders make it through the front gate, guns and grenades should force them back.” Bellamy pointed to the scale model of the front gate on the table.

“And then?” Clarke asked worriedly.

“Then, we close the door and pray.” Raven said.

“And pray what? That the ship keeps them out?” She asked. “Because it won’t.”

“Then let’s not let them get past the front gate.” You said, looking at the scale model and gripping your jacket sleeve in hopes to relieve some stress.

“All foxholes, listen up.” Bellamy spoke into the radio. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.”

“That’s always your plan.” Finn said. “Just like the bomb at the bridge.”

“Damn right. You got a better idea?”

“I think I do.” You spoke up. “Raven, you said there’s fuel in those rockets, right? Enough to build 100 bombs.”

“I also said we’ve got no gunpowder left.” She told you.

“I don’t want to build a bomb.” You said. “I want to blast off.”

“Draw them in close, fire the rockets. A ring of fire.” Clarke explained simply, smirking along with Raven.

“Barbequed grounders. I like it.” Bellamy agreed.

“Will it work?” Finn asked Raven.

“The wiring is a mess down there, but yeah.” She turned to you and Bellamy. “If you give me enough time, I’ll cook ‘em real good.”

You smirked at her and nodded, liking that you had an even better plan than what was formed before. Clarke and Finn went underneath the floor of the dropship to look for the ignition system while Raven sat near the floor entrance and worked on repairing the electrical board, while you and Bellamy headed out to prep for the impending and inevitable war.

It was nightfall when you heard the drums. You were by the fire, sharpening your own and other people’s blades in case it came time to use them. You looked to Bellamy, who seemed to have the same idea as you, and ran to the main foxhole.

“Where’s Octavia?” He asked Miller.

“No idea. She left 5 minutes ago, didn’t say where to.” He responded. “She thinks she’s a damn samurai.”

“Do you see anything?” You asked, sword drawn.

“No.” Monroe replied frustratedly. “What the hell are they waiting for?”

“The longer they wait, the better. This is about buying time for Raven.” He told her.

“I see them! They’re moving!” Sterling’s voice cut through the air, slightly staticy. “I count 2, 3- no, wait, there’s more. I don’t know man, there’s too damn many of them!”

A gunshot rang through the air and Bellamy asked Miller who was on the radio. “Sterling, I think. South foxhole.”

More gunshots rang out as Bellamy pulled out his radio. “South foxhole, report now.”

“Yeah, yeah, We’re okay. They didn’t attack. It’s like shooting at ghosts.”

You kept your eyes on the terrain ahead of you, seeing grounders move across your field of vision. “There!”

“I see them!” Monroe shouted, shooting at the grounders. Miller joined her and Bellamy shouted at them to stop.

“Reload, now.” He commanded, as they were both out of bullets.

“Those were our last clips.” Miller told him.

“We should- we should fall back.” Monroe suggested, panicked.

“No.” Bellamy said. “If this position falls, they’ll walk right through the front door.”

You unsteadily readied your sword as Bellamy positioned himself to look through the scope of his gun. You kept your stance and listened to the radio, Jasper confirming that the land mines worked.

“Jasper, we need you in the dropship, now.” Clarke’s voice came through.

“Negative.” Bellamy responded. “We can’t give up the west woods.”

“The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out.” Clarke said. “Jasper, get in here.”

“All gunners, listen up.” Jasper spoke. “The grounders are not attacking. They’re making us waste bullets. Don’t shoot when they’re running laterally.”

“Jasper’s right,” Bellamy confirmed. “Don’t fire until you’re sure it’s an attack. Repeat, do not fire until you are sure.”

Jasper then told Clarke that he was coming to help out, and you looked around worriedly. Something was feeling off to you. You didn’t know what it was, but your gut instincts were telling you to flee, to leave now and save yourself. But you knew to go against them, that you had to stay and fight. This was your battle, too.

Then it came. The gunfire, the battlecry. Grounders were headed straight towards you. You swung your sword as they ran for you, Monroe falling back with Miller. You slashed one grounder's throat and spun as you did so, plunging your sword into another grounder’s chest.

One of them attacked Bellamy and pushed him to the ground, Miller attempting to go after him, but failing when another grounder shoved his spear into Miller’s shoulder. Bellamy managed to fight the grounder, but failed when he was pushed to the ground again, the grounder’s hands tightening themselves around Bellamy’s neck.

You were busy fighting one of the other grounders and couldn’t help, but once you had killed him, you saw Octavia shove her sword through the back of the grounder’s head and straight through his eye, saving her brother.

“Admit it, you want one.” She said, panting. Before she could help her brother up off the ground, an arrow fired from behind her and struck her in the leg, causing her to falter and fall, Bellamy catching her.

“Miller! Fall back! Now!” He stood and grabbed Octavia by the arms to support her. “Can you walk?”

She stumbled and he put her arm over his shoulder. “O, hey. Hold on to me. Let me get you behind that wall.” He carried her bridal style and you followed behind, serving as cover for the siblings in case any grounders tried to attack them while they were vulnerable.

When you neared the gate, you heard screaming and metal clashing, causing Bellamy and you to skid to a halt.

“What is that?” Octavia asked.

“I don’t know, but they’re distracted.” Her brother responded, placing her against a tree. “Let’s move.”

“We’ll never make it.” Octavia panted. “Leave me. I’ll find another way.”

“No way in hell are we leaving you here.” You said.

“Octavia!” Lincoln said from behind you as he broke through the trees. A small smile came to your lips as they hugged.

“You did this?” Bellamy asked, nodding his head towards the reapers and grounders fighting one another.

“With Finn.” He told Bellamy. He looked down at the broken arrow in Octavia’s leg. “It’s deep.”

A grunt came from nearby and Lincoln spoke quickly. “I can help you, but you have to come with me now.”

“Go.” Bellamy said. “Let him help you.”

“No way,” Said Octavia. “I have to see this through.”

“You can’t walk and we can’t get you to the dropship.” You intervened.

“They’re right. This fight is over for you.” Lincoln told Octavia.

“O. O, listen to me.” Bellamy said. “I told you my life ended the day you were born. The truth is, it didn’t start until then. So go with him. I need you to live. Besides, we’ve got this.”

You put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled at her, letting go so she could hug Bellamy and say their own goodbyes before being carried away by Lincoln so she could remain safe.

You both paused for a minute until the shouting began again, revealing that the grounders were advancing on the wall. You and Bellamy picked up the pace and ran to the entrance. Clarke and Finn spotted the both of you, screaming for you to run, which you did. Bellamy picked up a gun and attempted to shoot at Tristan, but it was out of ammo.

You didn't make it very far from the entrance when four grounders closed in on you. You managed to take down the first one with relative ease, slicing his throat. One of the others attempted to bash your head in but you sliced his arm, causing him to fall with pain. You kicked him over forcefully and plunged your sword into his heart.

You spun around to face another grounder, thrusting yourself and your sword forward, stabbing him in the stomach. You watched the dropship door close, and you feared you were running out of time. You froze in your spot, but not for very long when the last grounder that had surrounded you shoved his dagger all the way into your right side, more towards your back.

The grounder left you once you collapsed to your knees, attempting to tear the dropship down to nothing with the rest of the army. You knew the blast was coming soon, so you dragged yourself to the exit and attempted pulling yourself to your feet. You groaned in pain, coughing at the sting of the blade. ‘I’ve been here for what, a month? And I’ve already been stabbed twice.’

You stumbled to the path that led out to the main gate as the rumbling of fire and the heat touched your skin. You slowly walked as the energy further drained from your body, feeling blood drip down your skin. The knife moved and tore your flesh every time you made a movement, but you knew it was important that you got to the main gate. You needed to survive. You needed to live.

You felt yourself getting lighter with every step, pushing through bushes and shrubbery. A sigh escaped your dry and pale lips as you saw the treeline, the wall. You reached out to stabilize yourself on it, but you fell to your knees instead, collapsing as darkness surrounded you. Your torso and head hit the ground with a thud, but no pain was felt when you hit the dirt. You just closed your eyes, feeling at peace.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #this is war series

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enklavefest · 3 years

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Don't Let Me Go

Tumblr / AO3: @funkylittleseance Instagram: celestial.seabreeze EnKlave Fest 2021: Klaus has a close call in Vietnam. Trigger warnings: Injury, blood, war violence and mild language. The ground quaked as another grenade detonated near Klaus and his brothers-in-arms. Crouched in a foxhole beside Dave, the seance clutched at his stomach, desperately trying to staunch the blood flow. Cowering, he sank deeper beneath the barricade while bullets whizzed around him; a cry tore past his lips at the white hot pain surging through his torso. He slumped against the foxhole as his life source oozed from the wound at an alarming rate, and no matter how hard he tried, the puddle beneath him expanded. In a weakened state, he felt dizzy, and his body trembled; heavy with fatigue, the sounds of battle began to fade, and darkness wormed its way into his periphery. As his eyes rolled back into his head, he collapsed against the muddy terrain; he vaguely heard his boyfriend’s pleading voice begging him to hold on and recognized the gentle sensation of fingers carding through his damp, sweaty curls.

The seance gasped, bolting upright with a pained expression contorting his features. He felt as though he’d awoken from a terrible nightmare, but as he pressed his palm to the persistent ache in his abdomen, it made him realize that what happened was real. He’d been wounded in combat in Vietnam. His chest heaved, each breath escaping in rapid bursts from his discomfort and fear.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Dave soothed, and it was then that he registered a set of familiar, gentle hands holding his own. His teary green eyes fell onto Dave’s concerned blue ones. “Dave,” Klaus choked out, leaning against him as he moved closer. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here,” the soldier murmured. Klaus tightened his grip on his hands and cried out in agony. “H - hurts…” “Shh, my love, I know,” he assured, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s curls. “Try to stay calm. You’re in the medical tent. You need to slow down and rest…” “No,” he interrupted with more strength than Dave deemed possible given his condition. “No more sleep…”

The soldier saw the terror in his love’s eyes, and he frowned as he tucked a few loose curls behind his ear. He knew that the seance struggled with recurring nightmares; who didn’t when living each day the way they did? But Klaus’ bad dreams stemmed from something much darker that even Dave couldn’t completely understand. He risked pecking his lips; it was no secret that they were closer than their other comrades, but they still did their best to conceal their love for one another. Here, Dave didn’t care. His boyfriend had nearly lost his life, and he’d be damned if he didn’t offer him comfort. “Sweetheart,” he hummed, “I’ll be right here. I promise I won’t leave you.” “What if…” Klaus began, swallowing thickly “…you get called away and have to go back out there? Dave, I … I can’t — I can’t lose you.” “Shh, breathe,” he whispered as he placed his companion’s hands over his own heart. “Do you feel that? I’m right here, okay? You won’t lose me.” “Dave, stop…” The response came out harsher than he’d intended. “‘m sorry, it’s just, I—” He cried out in pain, unable to continue. Dave’s brows furrowed, and he wiped the sweat from his companion’s forehead. The seance pushed past his discomfort. “Dave, this war … it was … was pointless, and so many lives were lost … I don’t want you to become part of that body count. I love you,” he whimpered, tightening his grip on the soldier’s hand like a vice. “I - I wasn’t even supposed to be here…” “None of us should be here, darling.” “No, that’s not — I mean here,” he said, eyes snapping shut, “in the war. 1968. Me being here shouldn’t be possible.” “Shh, babe, calm down.” The soldier’s expression revealed a new level of concern. “What are you saying? You aren’t making any sense.” Klaus buried his face in the crook of Dave’s neck and cried as he brokenly repeated that he didn’t know how to explain it. Confused, the soldier raised his brow. The seance must be feeling worse than he thought given that he wasn’t making much sense. What did he mean he wasn’t supposed to be here? That it shouldn’t be possible? Why was he speaking of the war as though it had already ended and was something from the past? Despite observing the panic in his boyfriend’s eyes, he was doubtful and at a loss for words. He loved the seance more than he’d ever loved anyone, and he wanted to believe him. Attributing his ramblings to the trauma he’d endured on the battlefield, he sighed, perched on the edge of the small cot and gingerly scooped him up into his arms. “Of course many lives were lost. We’re at war.” “Dave, I know how this sounds,” Klaus tried to reason, “but do you remember when I first got here?” “Yes, I remember…” He kissed the top of his head. “And you recall how I seemed to appear out of thin air?” “Of course … how could I forget?” Dave reminisced, his features soft. “I always felt as though you were a gift sent to me from above…” “I was sent to you, sunshine, but not from above. I’m from the future.” “Klaus, what do you mean? You need to rest. You’re not well.” “That briefcase I was holding … that’s how I got here. It’s like a time machine or something.” “A what?” “A time machine … please…” Klaus’ strength ebbed, and his exhaustion crept up on him. “Don’t … don’t you trust me?” “With my life, angel,” the soldier hummed. “You need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake.” Sighing in defeat, Klaus slumped against Dave’s muscular chest and nuzzled his neck. He didn’t want to sleep, but he couldn’t stave it off any longer and succumbed to his fatigue. Hours later, he woke to find that the blankets were tucked around him. He drew in a sharp breath, pressing a palm to his abdomen; his pain had worsened, but more than anything, he realized that he was alone. With unsteady limbs, he attempted to sit up, but his body protested; the wound screamed in agony. He cried out, closing his eyes as he fell back onto the sweat-soaked cot. Begging for relief, he clutched the frame as a nurse approached him and used a cold, damp cloth to brush the sweat away from his forehead. Startled, his eyes flew open, and he flinched away. “Where’s Dave?” he weakly questioned. “His presence was requested. He had to return to the field,” she reluctantly answered, setting her cloth down. “I’m sorry, honey. Get some rest.” “I can’t,” he sobbed. “It hurts so much … I need to get home. I need Dave … he promised he’d be here…” “Don’t work yourself up,” the nurse calmly said as she cleansed the wound on his abdomen and applied a fresh bandage. “I’m sure he’ll return soon. You’re in good hands. Here, drink this. You must be parched.” She offered Klaus a small cup of water, and with shaking hands, he accepted the beverage and downed it in a matter of seconds. Too uneasy to return to sleep, he curled onto his side and hugged himself despite his pain and sniffled quietly, wincing when the nurse touched his shoulder. She quickly withdrew her hand, offering him an apologetic smile before tending to other wounded soldiers. Eventually, the seance cried himself to sleep, waking at dusk embraced in a familiar set of arms. Dave. Trembling, he weakly clutched the soldier’s flak vest and choked out a sob. “Dave, you … promised you’d be here when I woke…” “I know, love,” Dave whispered, brushing the damp curls away from his forehead. “I’m sorry, but I’m here now.” “Please don’t leave me again,” he whispered faintly. “I won’t, Klaus,” he promised, quickly brushing his own tears away. “I won’t. I swear, baby. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to get better.” Was he telling himself that to ease his own fears, or was he doing it for the sake of his boyfriend? He was well aware that his condition was deteriorating, and he was terrified that the words he spoke may prove to be untrue. “Hang in there, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you.” Klaus coughed and sputtered, struggling to stay conscious. “Dave, if I stay here, I’ll die. I — I’m not…” He drew in a sharp breath at an unexpected bout of pain, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks, and twisted his fingers in the jacket’s fabric. “It hurts so much. ‘m not … not getting better. We have to leave…” “Sweetheart,” Dave said, lowering his voice as he glanced over his shoulder at the nurses staring, “we can’t just leave. Going AWOL is a criminal offense. The military will find us, and we’ll be arrested.”

“Dave, please,” he frantically sobbed, “we can - no one will find us. I have a way. You said that you trusted me.”

“And I do more than anything.” He noticed a nurse approaching them and put his hand up. “We need a minute,” he told her as he drew the curtain, blocking their view from her prying eyes. “Shit,” the seance gasped, clutching at his belly as his discomfort flared up, “it hurts. The briefcase…” He cried out in agony, and Dave cupped his cheek, watching him worriedly. Klaus swallowed his pain before continuing. “It’s … in our tent … under my cot. We can use it to get away from here.”

“Klaus, baby, I’m sorry, I don’t understand…” The seance fisted Dave’s shirt with the last of his strength. “Sunshine,” he stammered, “I already told you … the briefcase will get us out of here. All you have to do is bring it here, and we’ll open it … together.”

“Klaus, I…” Dave began only to be interrupted.

“Dave, before I landed by your cot, I was on a city bus in the year 2019. That briefcase will take us both back there. I don’t know how else to explain it…” He coughed and whimpered “…and I know it’s a lot to process, but please, I need you to listen to me. If I stay here…” Klaus’ words faltered, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I’ll die, love. This wound requires special treatment … treatment that I can’t get here. But if you bring me that briefcase, we can leave … and I can get the help I need back at home … at the Academy.” Dave couldn’t comprehend how a briefcase could save Klaus’ life, but as he assessed his boyfriend, his skin crawled. The color was draining from the seance’s face, and heat radiated from his skin; he knew that Klaus was right. He was fading, and if the soldier didn’t at least try to flee, he would lose him. No matter how outlandish the solution seemed, he was desperate to prevent his untimely demise. Gently massaging his scalp, he quietly said, “Klaus, I’m scared … what if I do it wrong and something bad happens?” “I’m scared, too, baby, but this might be the only chance we have to make it out alive. I trust you, and I love you.” “I love you too, darling.”

The seance’s words were grim, and truthfully, in his condition he didn’t know if he and Dave would make it back to 2019 safely - Five always said that time travel was a crap shoot. As reluctant as he was to take such a leap with Dave, he knew that in order to survive … to continue his life with his love by his side … he had no other options. He had to take that chance. His grip on the soldier’s jacket faltered, and he drew out a shuddering breath. Dave gently took Klaus’ face in his hands and desperately kissed his forehead, frowning immediately at his elevated temperature. It frightened him how quickly Klaus was deteriorating, but he had to try. Time was not on their side. Afraid to handle a time traveling briefcase, his fear for his boyfriend’s life drove him to brush the curls from his face and whisper, “Listen to me now, okay? I need you to hold on for me, sweetheart. I’ll come back for you. I promise. I love you.” He kissed Klaus’ lips gently, blue gaze fierce with determination. “I suppose we have a date with a briefcase,” he chuckled. “Yeah,” the seance agreed, a weak laugh escaping his throat. “I guess we do.” He squeezed Dave’s hand. “I love you.” Dave pressed one more kiss to the seance’s brow before slipping out of the small bed. Pulling the curtain open, he scanned the area to be sure no one was watching. Keeping his head low, he exited the medical tent, hastily trekking across the muddy grounds of the military compound until he made it to their sleeping quarters. Relieved that not a single soul was in sight, he made his way over to the seance’s cot. Slowly, he ducked beneath the frame and retrieved the briefcase out from under it. Now that he held it in his hands, he stared at the unusual device for a moment. Intrigued, he wondered if Klaus was right. Could a task as simple as opening this case transport them to a whole new time? It seemed insane, but he couldn’t stop to think about that now; he’d already been gone too long. The seance was running out of time. The soldier ran as fast as his legs would carry him, happy that he made it back to his companion. Breathlessly, he drew the curtains closed behind him as he propped himself up beside Klaus on the bed. “I’ve got it, love,” he hummed, carding his fingers through his boyfriend’s curls as he gently pulled him against his chest. Klaus’ eyes fluttered open. He was fading, but they were so close, and he had to hang on. “Tell me what I need to do,” Dave whispered. “I … I don’t…” He shivered at his pain and clutched the soldier’s shirt. “I think … it just needs to be adjusted,” he said, breathing labored as his arms weakly reached for the dials. Dave noticed that he was shaking. “Easy, love, let me do it…” He gently placed the seance’s hands back into his lap. “2019,” Klaus whispered. “What?” the soldier questioned, barely able to hear him. His boyfriend’s energy was dwindling, and his eyes began to close. “Hey, no, no, no,” Dave murmured, softly tapping his cheek, desperately trying to rouse him. “Stay with me, baby. What did you say?” The seance coughed as he squeezed Dave’s hand. Swallowing thickly, he found the strength to speak. “2019.” “All right…” Dave swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’ll get you there…” “Like you have before?” Klaus snorted, but his body protested, and he hissed in pain. The soldier’s face turned bright red. “You know I don’t mean like that, and quit making jokes. You need to save your strength.” Dave peppered Klaus’ hairline with kisses. He knew he had to be fast. Fidgeting with the dials on the case, he hoped he did it correctly; he tightened his grip on his boyfriend and closed his eyes. “Please work,” he pleaded before popping the latches open. A flash of blue light swallowed them, and in a matter of seconds, they had been transplanted onto a city bus. Dave’s eyes widened as he peered around the new, unfamiliar territory. He swallowed thickly as he frantically observed the shocked expressions on the other passengers’ faces before the bus driver blurted, “What the hell?” He slammed on the brakes, pulling over to face them. “What — where did you two come from?” he demanded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Um, I - I…” Dave stammered. “Spit it out, boy!” the driver demanded. “He needs…” The soldier began to explain, halting when Klaus groaned, head tipping forward as he clutched his belly. He felt his panic building when he saw blood beginning to seep through the seance’s shirt. “Shit…” he cursed, knowing he must’ve ripped the stitches. Wracking his brain, he recalled, “Academy.”

“Academy? He needs a hospital,” someone countered.

“Take us to the Academy,” Dave snapped, wrapping his arms around his love’s weakened and trembling figure. “Hurry!” The driver nodded, complying to Dave’s request. He pulled the bus back onto the road and began the commute towards the Academy. Dave pressed his forehead to Klaus’. His own tears began to slide down his cheeks, and he whispered, “Are you still with me, baby?” “‘m here, sunshine…” He searched for his hand. “Did we make it?” “I think so. It’s a lot different than Vietnam.” “‘s’okay … I promise. I love you, Dave…”

“I love you, too, angel. Hold on. You’re going to be okay.” When the bus rolled to a stop, the operator announced that they had arrived. Dave looked at Klaus; his skin was sickly pale, and he was drenched in sweat. He knew there was no way he could walk in his condition, so he gingerly carried the seance off of the vehicle and took in the building. He gawked at the massive structure, having never seen anything like it. A shuddering breath from the seance pushed the soldier to nudge the wrought iron gates open and pass through the threshold. Nervously, he called out for help only to be ambushed by Diego, who wielded a knife, and Five. “Who the hell are you?” Diego demanded, knife poised, ready to strike. His features softened when he recognized the person clutched within Dave’s trembling arms. “Klaus … what’d you do to him?” “N - nothing. I—” “What did you do to my brother?” Diego took a threatening step forward before the sound of him yelling drew Allison down the steps into the foyer. “What’s going on?” she questioned. Gasping, she covered her mouth in shock when she saw Klaus. Diego raised his knife, pointing it at Dave. “That bastard hurt our brother.” “No, that’s not … I didn’t! Please, he needs help!” Allison’s brows drew together in concern. She noticed that the soldier was petrified, and something in his eyes led her to believe that he was telling the truth. “Drop it, Diego.” “What? Allison—” “That’s enough,” she firmly stated, slowly approaching Dave. Her soft hazel eyes met the soldier’s teary blue ones, and she offered him a kind smile. “He’s going to be okay.“ Grace entered the room and approached the soldiers. She quickly assessed the seance’s condition and instructed Diego to carry him to the infirmary and to prepare him for immediate surgery. Number Two obliged and shot the soldier a suspicious look as he took his brother into his own arms, but Dave couldn’t bring himself to protest. Grace smiled warmly and reassured him that Klaus would recover before she departed. Overwhelmed by his growing anxiety, the soldier’s knees buckled. Allison gasped, acting quickly to support him so he wouldn’t fall.. “Easy,” she soothed, offering him a smile. “Hey … it’s okay.” “I…” Dave mechanically glanced down at the blood — Klaus’ blood — staining his trembling hands. “I feel sick…” “Yeah, well, time travel will do that to you,” Five informed, eyebrow quirked as he examined the soldier’s fatigues. “Judging by your outfit, I’d guess army. What year?” “1968 … A Shau Valley…” Dave whispered. “Wait, as in Vietnam?” Five stepped forward, prepared to ask more questions. How did Klaus of all people wind up in that hellscape? “Drop it, Five. This isn’t an interrogation,” Allison chastised, returning her attention to Dave. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Allison guided the soldier upstairs, ushering him into Klaus’ bedroom. The door creaked as she swung it open, and she gestured for Dave to go inside. He slowly wandered around the room, taking in the surroundings. The space was fitting for his companion; it was oversized and contained his unique personality within its walls. On the far wall, there was a twin bed. It was unkempt; blankets were strewn about the mattress in a chaotic heap. His gaze trailed over each surface within the room. Dark script covered nearly every inch of the plaster, with the occasional drawing littered among the fonts. Delicate strings of fairy lights garnered the wall above his bed and window, contrasting perfectly with the harsh scribbles. It felt so right yet so wrong for Dave to be in this dwelling now. This was Klaus’ room — his Klaus’ room. He could see and feel his presence all around him. He smelled his scent so strongly that it was almost as if he was there beside him holding his hand … but he wasn’t. Dave wiped a tear from his eye at the realization that Klaus may not ever be there again. Allison stepped toward the soldier, features soft as she laid her hand upon his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He flinched, startled by her touch. “Yeah … sorry, I was thinking…” “It’s all right.” She smiled softly, taking him by his elbow. “Come with me.” Allison led him toward the bathroom, helping to ease him down onto the closed toilet seat lid. Nodding, he took a seat and watched her as she retrieved a cloth and dampened it in the nearby sink. Turning to face the soldier, she smiled at him gently and ran the warm cloth over his fingers and palms. In an effort to help him relax, she began to converse with him. She started by introducing herself, pleased that she was able to coax Dave to do the same. “So, Dave,” she spoke quietly, features soft and inviting, “how did you and my brother meet?” “Well…” Dave exhaled a laugh at the question. “It’s difficult to explain,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the toilet as Allison continued tending to his blood stained hands. “He just … kind of appeared. It had been a long day, and I was tired … I was nearly asleep when suddenly there was a flash of light,” he reminisced, a fond smile forming across his lips, “and then there he was … covered in blood from head to toe with the most beautifully wild eyes I had ever seen.” “That sounds like my brother,” Allison laughed, “always showing up unannounced.” The soldier tipped his head back, chest bouncing with laughter. “Yeah … yeah, he does. He always has to be the center of attention. I always joke that he’s two parts crazy to one part sane, but…” He trailed off as a single tear slid down his cheek. “He might drive me insane at times, but he’s the most charming, funny and goddam beautiful person that I have been fortunate enough to meet.” Allison looked at Dave, really looked at him for the first time as everything drew into focus. “Wow,” she said, hands tightening around his, “you love him, don’t you?” Scared to admit the truth to anyone other than himself or Klaus, the soldier closed his eyes and nodded. “More than anything in this world.” Allison finished cleaning the blood from his hands, placing the cloth in the sink as she smiled at him. Dave nodded appreciatively as he got to his feet. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” she answered as she wrapped her arm gently around his waist and led him toward Klaus’ bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a change of clothes and make you something to eat, you must be starving.” “Are you sure?” he quietly asked, turning to face her. “You don’t have to. I don’t want to be any trouble.” “It’s no trouble to me at all,” she assured, smiling softly as she released her grip on his waist. She frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she watched the way Dave wearily sat on the edge of Klaus’ bed. “Besides, you can only do so much for Klaus when you’re running on fumes. You need to take care of yourself, too, Dave.” She gripped the door knob. “I’ll be right back, okay?” “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. “Thank you.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Of course.”

She left the soldier to settle in before she descended down the steps. Once in the kitchen, she knew that she had to help Dave, ensuring that he stayed fed and hydrated, otherwise she’d likely never hear the end of it from her brother when he was feeling better. You let my boyfriend starve? Allieee! She could almost hear him now. Shaking her head, she chuckled and decided to brew a pot of chamomile tea, knowing that its soothing properties might calm the soldier’s frayed nerves. While waiting for the kettle to boil, she got to work on preparing him some food. Not wanting to leave him alone for too long with his thoughts, she opted to make something simple that could be whipped up in a snap. Nothing said comfort food like a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup. She smiled, thinking that it would be the perfect meal. Once everything was ready, she divided the portions out, placing them on an easier to manage tray. Being extra cautious, she climbed up the steps with the meal and headed straight for Diego’s room. She set the tray on his bedside table before taking the opportunity to ransack his wardrobe in search of an outfit that would fit Dave. Surely out of anyone in the household, Diego’s clothes would offer the best fit. Pleased enough with her selection, she neatly tucked the items beneath her arm before lifting the tray and wandering back across the hall toward Klaus’ room.

As she nudged the door open with her shoulder, she realized that Dave hadn’t budged. She frowned, noticing the way he stared at his trembling hands. Placing the tray of food onto the nightstand, she offered him the clothes. “Here,” she said, ensuring that she kept her voice light and comforting. “They’re Diego’s. The fit might be a bit off, but I imagine it’ll be better than Luther’s.” “Thank you,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper. “I made you some tea. It’s chamomile, might make you feel better,” she informed him, gesturing toward the tray. “I also brought you some soup and a sandwich. It’s not much, but it should help. Anyway, it’s there for when you’re ready to try to eat, okay?” “Thank you — I appreciate it.” He offered a half smile and glanced at the clothing. Blushing, he stood, gesturing over his shoulder towards the bathroom. “Um, I’ll just…”

Dave entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him, being sure to lock it. Once he had changed into the outfit, he emerged from the bathroom and glanced at the food. He was hesitant to accept the meal, but he didn’t want to be impolite, so he smiled as he picked up the grilled cheese. He quickly realized that he was hungrier than he’d anticipated as he ravenously tore into the sandwich. Chewing a bite, he slurped a spoonful of the soup before chasing it down with a large gulp of tea. Allison watched the soldier with satisfaction, an amused expression contorting her features as he ate. She couldn’t control her giggles at the sound of him wolfing everything down. “Wow, either you were starving or I’m a better cook than I thought.” “Both,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food. He met her gaze; embarrassed by his piggish behavior, he swallowed his bite, offering her a shy smile as he patted a napkin over his lips. “Sorry,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you … for everything. This was very kind of you.” “You’re welcome,” she chimed as she smiled warmly and squeezed his hand.

The soldier finished off the remaining portions and moved the tray to the side. “You should rest,” Allison told him, picking up the tray, steadying the dishes with her hand to prevent them from falling. Dave ran his palms over his face. “What? No, I’m fine—” “Please, you’re exhausted. Don’t think you can hide that from me. I’m a mother, and I know all,” she said, sharing a laugh with the soldier. Admittedly, he was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Not with Klaus wounded and potentially dying. He needed to stay alert. “I can’t. What if—” “Dave, I need you to listen to me, all right?” She sat beside him on the bed, laying her palm over his knee. “My brother? He’s going to be fine. He’s a lot stronger than any of us gave him credit for. I know in my heart that he will pull through this. I think you know that, too. Now, rest. You’re going to need your full strength to handle him once he’s awake.” Dave felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes at her kind words. He only hoped that she was right. He glanced at her as he stifled a yawn. “You really think he’ll be okay?” “I know he will,” she assured, smiling at him again as she squeezed his hand. “Get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything else, all right?” “Okay…” He returned the smile and rubbed his eyes, more exhausted than he’d anticipated. “Thank you again, Allison. You’re too kind.” “Of course,” she said, clutching the tray in her hands as she stood. “Dave?” He glanced up at her through tired, hooded eyes. “Yeah?” “I’m glad my brother has you.” The soldier felt warmth fill his chest, and he offered her a nod. “I’m glad I have him, too.” She gave his hand another squeeze before she left the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her. The soldier sighed heavily as he curled up beneath the offered warmth of the blankets and hugged Klaus’ pillow to his chest. He could smell his love’s scent on the soft fabric. He breathed it in, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He clutched it tightly within his trembling arms, pressing it against himself as his tears began to flow. He could feel his heart shattering and wished it was Klaus he was holding. He’ll be okay, he thought, sniffling through his tears, hopeful that Allison would be right. Klaus would be okay. Consumed by his exhaustion, Dave drifted off into the void of sleep, but his peaceful slumber was short lived. He began to twitch and whimper, fingers twisting into the sheets, as visions of the war haunted his dreams. Eyes locked on his target, Dave crouched low in the foxhole beside Klaus, doing what he could to avoid being hit while trying to protect his boyfriend. Gun aimed and ready to fire, the soldier lost focus when a grenade detonated dangerously close to them. Shrapnel flew in every direction as bullets raced past them, and he acted quickly to get to safety. When he realized that Klaus was not following him, he panicked and caught a glimpse of him through the dense smoke. Staying low, he called for a medic as he crawled toward him. He paled when he saw the blood seeping between the seance’s fingers from a wound on his stomach. With trembling hands, Dave applied pressure to it and pleaded with his love to hold on as he looked into his wide, teary eyes. The soldier bolted upright in bed with a gasp, chest heaving and heart pounding wildly. “Klaus!” he called, but the wounded veteran was not there. Slowly as the smog of gunpowder dissipated and his head began to clear, he realized that it wasn’t mud or blood in between his fingers. It was something softer, more familiar — Klaus’ blanket. Unsteadily, he heaved himself to his feet, stumbled into the bathroom to splash water over his face. Too unsettled to return to sleep, he ambled downstairs and silently ventured into the great room. He sat on the couch, tucking his knees against his chest, and tried to shake the horrible images from his mind. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the footsteps heading down the hall and winced at the unexpected voice. “You okay?” Allison asked softly, leaning against the wall. “Oh, yeah,” he answered too quickly, eyes falling onto hers. “Couldn’t sleep…” “Bad dream?” She frowned. “Something like that…” He sighed audibly. “It was a memory … how he got hurt…” “Dave,” she soothed as she sat beside him and took his hand, “it’s okay. You got him here in time, and he’s on the mend. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I was just coming to get you. Mom finished the surgery. He’s in recovery, and he’s still asleep, but he made it, Dave. He’s going to be okay.”

Dave perked up at her words. Klaus was okay. Allison saw the way the soldier’s face lit up, and she smiled. “I’m sure he’d love to wake up with you by his side. Come on,” she said, clutching his hand, “I’ll take you to him.” “Yes, please,” he whispered, lips wobbly from glee. “Thank you.”

Allison helped guide Dave to his feet, and the two of them walked toward the infirmary. When his gaze fell onto Klaus, his breath hitched, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He tightened his grip on Allison’s hand and exhaled a shaky breath. She looked at him, concern in her eyes. “Do you need a moment?” she whispered. “No…” He reluctantly released her hand. “I’m okay.” Dave swallowed his anxiety as he entered the infirmary and approached the bed; his legs felt heavy, but he pushed himself to keep going. His boyfriend needed him. When he reached the bed, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Klaus no longer looked as though he was on death’s doorstep. The color had returned to his face, and the wound on his abdomen was cleaner and less angry. He was no longer drenched in sweat, and as Dave brushed his curls from his forehead, there was no lingering heat. The soldier smiled softly as he sat in the bedside chair and gently ran his fingers through his companion’s hair. “I’m here, love,” he whispered. Allison smiled before giving him privacy to spend time with Klaus, knowing that they’d both be okay. The soldier continued carding his fingers through Klaus’ curls, occasionally pressing delicate kisses to his forehead. He used his other hand to clutch one of the seance’s and eventually rested his head on the edge of the pillow. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a light slumber. The sensation of fingers loosely squeezing his hand roused him. He lifted his head and smiled when Klaus’ eyes fluttered open and fell onto his. Dave whispered, “Hi, sweetheart,” and leaned down to innocently kiss his lips. “Hey, sunshine,” Klaus murmured tiredly. “‘m glad you’re here.” “I’m glad you’re okay.” He brushed the hair from his face. “How are you feeling?” “A little sore and sleepy, but a lot better. Will you hold me?” Without a second thought, Dave carefully joined him on the small bed and cradled him against his muscular chest, ensuring the blankets still covered him. Klaus winced at the change in position, but his desire to be close to his boyfriend outweighed his discomfort. He nuzzled his neck, searched for his hand and clutched it between his own as he breathed in his scent. The soldier tenderly cupped the seance’s cheek, ran his fingers along the bone and closed his eyes, taking in the intimate moment. As he held Klaus in his arms, he peppered his hairline with kisses and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Having his love close to him made all of his previous fears vanish, and he knew that he was safe. Before succumbing to his own exhaustion, the soldier hummed, “I love you more than anything in the world, darling.” “And I love you more than the moon loves the stars, sunshine,” Klaus murmured, snuggling closer to him. The two soldiers fell asleep together, content to be wrapped up within the safety of each other’s strong but gentle arms.

#EnKlave Fest 2021 #TUA #the umbrella academy #klave #klaus/dave #submission #fanfic #funkylittleseance

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cieloclercs · 3 years

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Issy and Evangeline had never known such luxury, as to be able to sleep on a wooden bench. Compared to the snowy foxholes they had been forced to huddle inside for all those weeks in Bastogne, a church pew was heaven. And the girls’ choir singing Plaisir D’amour were the angels.

“My mama used to play this song on the piano.” Evangeline - also aptly nicknamed ‘Angel’ by her comrades - recalled with a wistful smile. Geneveive Dubois had played many songs on their piano back home in Annecy, but Plaisir D’amour was always her favourite.

“Is there anything your mother can’t do? Last week you told me she painted a portrait for Coco Chanel!” Issy laughed, then shrank back into her seat as the nun observing the choir girls shot her a disapproving look.

“She did! Mama is a very good artist!” Angel defended with a small smile, the first one that had fully graced her lips in weeks.

“And apparently a musician, too.” Issy murmured quietly, careful not to catch the strict nun’s attention again. She always seemed to find a way of getting into trouble without intending to.

Angel glanced down at her friend with a fond smile, chuckling softly at the way she shied away from the nun’s gaze. For as long as she had known her, Issy always had a gift for getting on the wrong side of people she shouldn’t. Angel could practically hear Sobel screaming, “Private Castro, if you turn up late for PT one more time this week, your weekend pass will be revoked for the rest of your life!”

Issy never did get to join them for weekend drinks.

Angel suddenly found herself missing the good old days at Camp Toccoa. Looking back on it, the daily PT sessions where Sobel would scream at them for not making it over the wall, and their long and exhausting runs up Currahee felt like a lifetime ago. Angel would have given anything to go back, with the Black Swan and all. Even Sobel’s insults were better than Bastogne.

But nothing could be worse than Bastogne.

Angel just knew Lieutenant Dike was going to be their downfall. She knew it from the moment Issy and George nicknamed him, ‘Foxhole Norman’ in Holland. That man was not a soldier. He never should have been allowed to command Easy Company. And he had cost them so much.

It made her angry.

Lip had been their guardian angel in the dark days of Bastogne. He was the leader Easy Company needed more than anything, as strong as decisive as Winters, and one of the best people she knew. Angel often found herself praying, just praying to God that Lip would take over, give Easy a little hope. He would have got the whole company back on their feet, given them something to fight for again.

But instead they had Foxhole Norman.

When Dike was put in charge of the attack on Foy, Angel wanted to scream. They had already lost too many soldiers, good soldiers. Skinny had been evacuated, Smokey paralysed, Toye and Guarnere lost their legs in one of the last barrages in the Bois Jacques woods, Skip, Penkala... and two of the bravest women she ever knew. They were going to lose even more with Dike in charge.

Then came Easy Company’s saviour.

Ronald Speirs was - in all honesty - the last person Angel expected to come to their rescue. She had only met him a few times, but the rumours... the rumours were hard to ignore. Even for someone like her, and Angel had never been one to gossip.

Ronald Speirs saved them all.

He came charging through Foye like a man on a mission, not even glancing at the Germans on his either side. The attack was failing, thanks to Dike’s idiocy, and too many good men were losing their lives. Speirs turned it all around single handedly.

He was a hero.

Angel was glad he was their new CO. The whole company was glad. She had spoken to Lipton only two hours before, and even he had expressed his deep relief that Dike was gone, and they finally had a good leader in charge. Maybe things would start looking up for Easy.

“You wanna ask me don’t ya?”

Angel blinked rapidly, the image of that frost-bitten battlefield fading from before her eyes. She glanced to her side, and realised that Issy had fallen asleep; her head lolled to the side and there was a contented smile on her lips. She still looked like a girl, even after everything they had been through.

“Ask you what, sir?”

Angel turned away from Issy’s sleeping figure, her eyes instead focussing on the two men in her line of sight; Speirs and Lipton. The former was collecting his equipment, presumably to make his way back to Battalion, while the latter watched him with a curious gaze. Angel sat up a little straighter in her seat.

“You wanna know if they’re true or not, the stories about me.”

Lipton seemed amused, and maybe a little apprehensive. Speirs never really spoke to anyone, let alone spoke to them about his darkest secrets. And the rumours... were the darkest it could get.

“Did you ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they heard it from someone who was there, but when you ask that person, they say they heard it from someone who was there.”

Speirs spoke about the rumours like they didn’t bother him, with such nonchalance, and perhaps even a hint of smugness. Angel watched a slight smirk stretch across his face, and suddenly, she wasn’t so convinced by the rumours anymore.

“I bet if you went back 2,000 years, ya’d here a couple of centurions standin’ around, yakkin’ about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”

“Well, maybe they kept talkin’ about it ‘cause they never heard Tertius deny it.”

Angel got the feeling they weren’t really talking about Tertius.

“Hm, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value to the men thinkin’ he was the meanest, toughest sonofabitch in the whole Roman Legion.”

Oh.

Now she understood.

Angel supposed a reputation like that was useful, especially in a war such as this. Fear was a natural thing to feel in the presence of someone like him. The rumours about Speirs were known by all of Easy Company, and possibly even the whole 506th. Everyone knew he was a cold-blooded, merciless, perhaps slightly insane killer. Or at least, they thought they did.

“Sir, these men aren’t really concerned about the stories. They’re just glad to have you as their CO. They’re happy to have a good leader again.”

Lipton’s eyes weren’t so guarded anymore, but curiosity still lingered within them. Perhaps he was just realising - a little like Angel - that there was a lot more to Ronald Speirs than meets the eye.

“Well from what I heard, they’ve always had one. I’ve been told there’s always been one man they could count on. Led ‘em in the Bois Jacques, held ‘em together when they had the crap shelled outta them in the woods. Every day he kept his spirits up, kept the men focussed, gave ‘em direction. All the things a good combat leader does.”

Angel couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, because no truer words had ever been spoken. And the best thing about it, Lip was completely oblivious. He had no idea just how much Easy Company had relied on him through Bastogne. He was a pillar, a friend to lean on, to listen to their problems, to offer advice, all while being an exceptional leader. They owed their lives to him. Because without Lipton, Angel was sure she wouldn’t have been able to go on.

“You don’t have any idea who I’m talkin’ about do ya?”

“No, sir.”

“Hell, it was you, First Sergeant.”

As Lipton’s eyebrows raised in surprise, Angel saw - for the first time - a real, genuine smile on Speirs’ face. It made her grin widen even further. Lip was the glue that held them together. Even Speirs - who had run straight through German fire for Easy Company - was acknowledging it. It was all down to Lipton.

“Oh, and you’re not gonna be a first sergeant for much longer, First Sergeant.”

“Sir?”

“Winters put in for a Battlefield commission, and Sink approved on your behalf. You should get the official nod in a few days.”

Angel could have cried.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Lipton looked like he couldn’t quite believe it, even as Speirs sent him a brief smile before walking away. He was stood motionless for a few seconds, the shock immobilising his limbs.

Lip deserved this.

With Speirs as their new CO, and Lipton getting a Battlefield commission, it seemed that Easy’s darkest days might finally be behind them. Bastogne truly had been hell on Earth, the kind of thing that no one should ever have to endure. Just the shriek of a shell, or the faint whistle of a bullet was enough to strike terror into the hearts of every single soldier in the Bois Jacques woods. Angel had never known anything like it.

She wouldn’t allow herself to relax, even now Dike was gone. War was much too complicated to hope for its end at any point, let alone when it was so close to finally being won. It would only hurt more in the end. Hope could be a very dangerous thing.

But it could also be your salvation.

Band of Brothers Appreciation Week Day 5, One scene ~ Rachamps Church

introducing OFC no. 4, Evangeline Dubois!

introducing OFC no. 5, Isidra Castro!

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers appreciation week #bobweek #hbowardaily #ronald speirs #carwood lipton

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