#skip and penk

[malarkgirlypop]

What the Easy men are ticketed for when driving

Richard Winters:

He has all of his paperwork at the ready the police officer doesn’t even have to ask. He’s very apologetic, but he didn’t do anything wrong. Dick politely chats with the officer, he’s not intimidated by the man but he’s being cautious. When the officer says he made a mistake and lets him go, Dick is very understanding. They even exchange information, talk about meeting up. You feel like a third wheel for a hot sec. He has never had a ticket.

Lewis Nixon:

IM NOT DRUNK!!!! I CAN DANCE, I’LL PROVE IT!!! 'Darling stay in the car', proceeds to fall out of the car while trying to exit. The cop and you exchange a glance. You follow the cop car to the station, you can see Nixon’s little head in the back window. He was indeed drunk. Yeah you should've seen it coming he had to blow into a breathalyser before starting the car, turns out that's why you were there.

Harry Welsh:

Nervous around the cop, tries to make small talk but the guy isn’t having it. You sit there in awkward silence as the cops leaves to fill out the paperwork. Harry got pulled over cause he was trying to show you a trick, but the trick was swerving back and forward across the lanes and wasn’t very impressive. Sheepishly takes the fine, with a mumbled apology.

Ronald Speirs:

Asserts dominance over the cop, uses his killer stare. The cop is jumpy under his cold glare. He’s not smug about it, stating facts about the law making the cop look dumb. The officer can tell he’s fighting a losing battle so tries to rescind the fine. Ron is very happy about this reaching out if the window to give the cop a pat on his arm. "It’s ok, people make mistakes". Leaves the police man in the dust before the interaction is truly over. He was speeding, but it was fine, he had somewhere important to be.

Carwood Lipton:

I feel like he would be the same as Winters. Very calm and collected, hearing out the officer. Obviously it's our baby boy and he hasn't done anything wrong. Even if the cop was a total dick, Lip would be so polite and understanding. I think it would piss off the cop that he wasn't talking back, giving a "Have a good night officer", as the cop marches away muttering under his breath. I'm sure he would turn to you saying, "shall we?" before pulling away from the curb. He did nothing wrong, Lip getting fined. Ha! You wish.

George Luz:

Thinks he is a stand up comedian and can get out of the ticket by telling jokes. Unfortunately for Luz he gets the most grumpy, stoic officer of all time. George crashes and burns with each quip and pun, you sink lower in your seat hoping the ground will swallow you whole, (we all know second hand embarrassment is the silent killer). Finally he receives the ticket and you sit in silence while he re-thinks his entire life. Before making the most ridiculous remark sending everyone into hysterics. He is very proud of himself, "I knew I still got it. He was just a bad crowd." Very pleased with himself he doesn't even care he got a ticket. What was the ticket you ask. Trying to stand and drive. Yeah this isn't his first time either, yikes George.

Joe Toye:

Yeah no this man never gets pulled over. Even if he does, he will evade the police. His brag is that he has never been ticketed. Well, they have never been able to catch him to give it to him. He will never tell you what he does to be chased by the police, the mystery of it all. Bill says its cause he's a shit driver.

Bill Guarnere:

Knows everyone, so when he is pulled over all you get is, "Wild Bill you mad dog, I haven't seen you in years!" Buddies with the whole police force, gets let off the hook way too often. Has broken all the laws, but hey when you know everyone, what really are laws?

Joe Liebgott:

You all might think he's a bad boy rebel with the most tickets out of the lot. But you forget, hes a tried and true cabby. Like Bill he knows everyone, all you have to do is utter his name and you can get a million stories about the man. His brag is that he has never been ticketed, sure he's broken the law, but he never gets caught. Unlike some people *cough cough* Toye. But hey Toye hasn't actually been caught, just been in multiple car chases.

David Webster:

He's offended you think he drives. Clearly passenger seat princess, put some respect on his name. Has been fined for not wearing a seatbelt and standing up through the sun roof singing Unwritten, but that's just a vibe and he has the ticket framed on his wall.

Buck Compton:

The self proclaimed 'best driver of the group'. He's daddy and drives around his baby boy's. He's like the dad that picks you up from Saturday sport, 'who wants to stop at McDonalds?' His car is the vibe, everyone always fights over who rides with him on road trips. Has the best songs and snacks for the road trips, he laughs in the face of tickets, this man is untouchable and has a squeaky clean record. May have tried to do a donut, but he'll never tell.

Eugene Roe:

Pfft, this man getting pulled over. You're dreaming. The most calm driver. He's like my nana, anyone heard of the story the tortoise and the hare, yeah well he's the tortoise. No one wants to drive with him if they need to be somewhere in a hurry, he's too nice and gives way to everyone. This man panics when the police pass him, even when he's doing nothing wrong.

Babe Heffron:

If Gene is the tortoise, then Babe is definitely the hare. Hold on for dear life if you ride with this man. The most chaotic driving of all time. Over taking, under taking, side by side taking? Yeah he does it all. You see orange light, he sees pedal to the metal. Speed limits are just suggestions to this man. The amount of fines and tickets this man gets in a year he could buy a whole other car.

Donald Malarkey:

He's a good driver, but boy oh boy he's easily distracted. If you're sitting in the back showing photos to the rest of the boys, he's turning around fully in the seat to see what's going on. The most common phrase in his car is, "Don watch the road!" He's a fun driver having the best songs and also has karaoke mics in the car that he hands back, but please encourage him to keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road. The ads the are on the side of the road are catered just for him, he can't help himself when he sees something flashy. Has rear ended a car or two, maybe one of them was a police officer, but no one was there to see it.

Skip and Penk:

They don't drive. Skip is clearly a passenger princess and Alex is a backseat babe! Just tell them to please keep all limbs inside the car. Should not be allowed in Malarks car as they are the reason for his distraction but the love it, you will have to pry them out of the car they aren't splitting up!!

[balladofthe101st]

malarkey, skip, and penk should've met at college, not at a camp, training to go to war. they should've learned math, english, history, not how to use a gun and mortar. they should be gossiping about who's rita hayworth dating, not whether or not speirs shot those pows on dday. they should be complaining about their grades, not how cold they are, huddled in their foxholes, freezing their asses. they should be tired over studying for their exams, not worn out over night patrols. they should be listening to artie shaw and glenn miller over the radio in their dorm, not to the sound of bullets and artillery over their heads. malarkey and penk should've been the best men at skip and faye's wedding and skip at theirs, not skip and penk never having a wedding, and not them not being at malarkey's

[sidsledge]

do you guys ever think about how palpable joe's absence was for the rest of the show after episode 7. really had me thinking about how much i missed him during the baseball scene in 'points'

[daretobeking]

@froggishg

"He's alive, he's got a couch—got a goddamn blanket. Snug as a bug."

CARWOOD LIPTON and GEORGE LUZ Easy Company Dynamics 1/?* | Band of Brothers *inspired by character dynamics

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[hbowartournament]

rarepair polls quarter finals

learn how to steal this poll

[danopdf]

dream band of brothers blunt rotation:

- malarkey, skip and penk (obv)

- talbert

- eugene roe and babe (they would just be laying all over each other i feel)

- joe toye

- speirs (he would get BLASTED and appear totally normal, but i think he wouldn’t be able to walk)

- bill

pls rb with your dream BofB blunt rotations, for scientific purposes obv…

[luzlylovely]

skip, penk, and malark are like super into beyblades

[hellofanidea]

who am i to ask for seconds when you already cooked a full meal but “Saint or Sinner” for babelieb? (but only if it’s on your heart)

Babe prays in Rachamps for the first time in a while. He tilts his tired face into the golden candlelight of the church, winds his rosary around his knuckles, and asks God to keep an eye on Bill, and Toye, and Perco, and then everyone they've lost for good, like John Julian and Hoobler and Skip and Penk. He wants to be angry instead, wants to throw down the string of beads and howl blasphemy to the rafters, to claw at God's face and ask why?, but he's so goddamn tired, so he settles for begging for things to just get slightly fucking easier.

Beside him, Joe is curled up on their bench, half asleep but keeping one eye on him, like always. When he's finished, Babe sinks down so they're pressed body to body, the way they do in foxholes for warmth, and thinks this is enough - keeping him with me is enough.

[malarkgirlypop]

Easy Men Pranksters

How easy company men prank

Richard Winters:

I feel like he would do the most unnoticeable prank, like move an item one inch to the side. I'm sure he would think it was funny, he would've seen someone do it on facebook reels lmao. He tries it on Nix, who does not notice. But every time Nix walks into the room, Dick has a good chuckle to himself, knowing what he did.

Lewis Nixon:

He would throw a party and say he put out spiked punch. Turns out is wasn't spiked punch, just normal juice and fruit. He just wanted to weed out the fake bitches who pretend to get drunk. But that's not the true reason he did the prank. No way is he sharing his collection of alcohol, if you want to get drunk BYO.

Harry Welsh:

I think he would try to prank Lew and Dick. When they are hanging out without him, he calls the house and asks if the fridge is running. But jokes on him, he didn't turn off caller ID. "Harry, please stop calling the house. If you want to come over, just come over." Tries to pretend it wasn't him that called. He tried to convince Kitty to prank call the house so he doesn't look suspicious, but again forgot to turn off caller ID and it's his phone she has.

Ronald Speirs:

Leaves a horse head in the persons bed. Doesn't know the difference between a death threat and a prank.

"You should've seen his face."

"Speirs he had a heart attack."

"Yeah, ahaha, classic."

Please don't let this man prank.

Carwood Lipton:

The most harmless prankster. Like you don't get the prank. He has to explain it.

"Come over to the window and look at all these deer!"

"Where?"

"Got you!!"

"What?"

"You've been punked son!"

"I'm confused."

"There were never deer!!"

Oh Lip no. That's so bad. BOOOOO ahahah.

George Luz:

Loves getting pranked more than pranking. But he always is trying to get people to prank him, so he never get tricked. 100% would sneak into your house and replace all of your family photos with just pictures of himself. He has especially gone to JCpenney to get those hilarious awkward family photos, but it's all just him duplicated. It's a family of Luz's!

Joe Toye:

He's a mean prankster. One of those guys who has fake bugs and insects and tricks you into looking at what's in his hands. Also will hide around the house in the dark just to scare you. You're so used to it, that when you come home you have to scope out each room, only to find he actually went out for a drink and you're home alone. You call him and tell him what you have just done for the past hour and he thinks it's the funniest thing he has ever heard. Will definitely brag about it to the boys.

Bill Guarnere:

Classic prankster. Cling wrap on the toilet, cling wrap in the door way, putting everything in jello, wrapping the room in tinfoil. Causes the most mayhem and the biggest clean ups. He spends more time on the prank than the reaction is worth. Spent a whole night putting post it notes on your car, only to find out it was the neighbours and now they are pissed.

Joe Liebgott:

100% buy you those fake lotto tickets and let you believe it for the longest time. He would get Web countless times with it. Every time the man falls for it and Lieb just finds it so funny. He let's Web call all of his family members every time he "wins". It happens so often that the family members on the phone know it's a prank and try to explain it to him.

David Webster:

None of his pranks have ever been successful. OR when he does pull pranks he accidentally gets himself. He does the cling wrap on the toilet, forgets about it, pees all over the ground. Fills a room with water cups, forgets about it and walks into said room and tips over all of the cups. Like this man just can't win. Poor guy.

Buck Compton:

The only prank he does in the warm bucket prank. He is convinced it will work every time. It never does. He literally does tests, he's so invested on getting it to work. It's basically become an experiment for him. He tries out different water temps, different vessels he puts the water in, how deep he puts the hand in the water. He has a little notebooks of each time he has tried the prank and the method he used.

Eugene Roe:

He's a cute prankster. He opens two boxes of cereal and switches the bags. So you think you are getting lucky charms, but instead you get frosted flakes. Gene thinks it is the funniest thing seeing sleepy Babe questioning every thing in existence as frosted flakes appear out of the lucky charms box. Babe still being half asleep just shrugs and tucks into his breakfast. Gene has to explain the prank to him later.

Babe Heffron:

Does the, "oh yeah I put premium air into the tires." To Gene. Gene is losing his mind, thinking babe paid $100 for air. Also has a bunch of fake items, like vomit and dog poo that he gets Gene with all the time. "Gene the cats puked all over the lap top!!" Poor Gene is stressed to the max with Babe lmao.

Don, Skip and Penk:

The trio is trioing. If there is one group that is forever pranking, it's these lot. Whether it's each other or their friends, they are always down for a cheeky prank. Fill a room with ball pit balls, foam, balloons. Breaks into your house and turn it into a full out haunted house. These boys are hard out, it's go big or go home. Nothing is off the table, they will invest life savings into a good prank. Watch your backs they are after you, they will punk you. They seriously talk about starting and producing their own punked series. 100% has a prank youtube channel that blows up.

[balladofthe101st]

skip and penk's last words being "luz" and last thoughts being hoping that luz survives the shelling

[luckyreds]

the way Skip, Penk and Malark keep sharing cigarettes with each other throughout the whole series...

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Do this whenever you have the time to, for the love letters could i get Skip Muck, but if you don't write for him, then our one and only George Luz, no pressure whatsoever!!

ALEXI THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE!!!!

I've never written for Skip before but honestly I had so much fun writing this!!! Thank you for requesting (and for your patience!) and I hope you enjoy it!!! 🩷💕✨

8 May 1945

Alexi my beloved!

The Germans just surrendered! The war over here is OVER! They said we’re gonna get re-deployed to go fight in the Pacific, but if we have enough points we can go home! You get points from being wounded and how long you have been fighting, and guess who has enough points to come home to the person he loves most in this world!

IT’S ALEX PENK-

Sorry, Penk took my pen

It’s ME! I’m coming home to you Alexi! We can finally go to the soda shop together again! And play cards until 3 in the morning, and play pranks on those fuddy-duddies in your neighborhood.

So, I know that this would be better coming from me in person, but knowing I’m coming home, I can’t keep it inside any longer. Alexi, when I say I love you, I don’t just mean it as close friends. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since before I left for Toccoa, but I was too afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to say anything while I was in Europe in case anything happened to me.

I’m so scared to tell you this. If you don’t feel the same way, please just pretend I never wrote this, because to lose you as my best friend would hurt more than any hit I took during the war. Thinking about you has been the only thing keeping me going over here. My favorite memory to think about is one of the last days before I left - you and I were sitting on the roof of your house. The sky had more stars than I’d ever seen before. There was a point when I looked over at you, and you were looking up at the stars, you just looked so ethereal and wonderful. I knew then I had more than just a little crush on my best friend.

The way you are so unapologetically yourself, your compassion, your honesty, your love for shenanigans and chaos, the way we just click when we're together and the fact that you accept me just how I am are just a small part of why I have fallen in love with you. When I get home, I would be honored to take you out to dinner and a movie as more than friends, if that’s ok with you. Again, if you do not feel the same way, please just forget I ever wrote this. I would rather have you in my life as my best friend than lose you like this.

I love you Alexi, I’ll see you soon,

Skip

*scribbled at the bottom of the paper*

Please go out on a date with him, he won’t shut up about you.

Penkala

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Country Roads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Skip, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bloodstainedsaint]

thank you thank you thank yooou!! And I don’t mind waiting for good stuff 🤷‍♀️

Okay so my idea kinda was in episode 7 when George and Lipton is in the same foxhole. So they get “hit” by the dud but the reader is so scared something actually happened to George, so she is running towards their foxhole and George is screaming for her to stay put cuz he’s okay and then she gets hit….or almost…I mean something tragic. I wanna bawl my eyes out.

And of course…feel free to not do it, if you think it sucks🧡 Love your stuff and have a good day !

louder than bombs (george luz x reader)

word count: 1800+

warnings: blood, gore, death, angst (w happy ending), bff! roe, mutual pining, i hint at both renée x roe AND baberoe

notes: used some hcs from this (shameless self-plug), and happy new year to all! i hope that 2024 is your year :)

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

Despite Lieutenant Dike’s request not to (like you'd listen to a coward like him anyway, even if he did have a good point), you and Eugene were sharing a foxhole — one a few meters behind where Skip, Penk, Don, and Luz were standing around in a circle, joking and laughing.

Taking your eyes off the man in question — you'd been staring at him from afar for too long, anyway — you turned to Eugene with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean, ‘You and Luz?’”

He took one look at your face and chuckled around the cigarette in his mouth. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“You say that as if we’re together or something, Gene,” you scoffed and held yourself tighter for warmth.

“Practically. Seen yourself lately? You blush and smile whenever he talks to you.”

Spluttering in response, you could feel your ears going red. “Well, Bayou, what if I’m blushing because it's zero degrees out here? And what if he’s just a funny guy in general?”

Eugene glanced over to the group of men, and, as if on cue, they were cracking up at George’s impression of the chickenshit lieutenant. “He’s a good match for you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, I'm so glad you approve,” you said, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Gonna read our wedding rites now?”

He put out his cigarette. “He makes you laugh. We could all use some of that.”

You inspected the faraway look in Eugene’s eyes, and you knew he was right. The fatal accident with the goddamned Luger that killed Hoobler recently, the barrage earlier today that sent both Joe Toye and Bill home with missing right legs, the overall misery of this frozen hell. You’d all seen your fair share of blood and open flesh; the company needed the beam of light that was George Luz.

Watching Luz as he was pulled aside by Lipton, you exhaled, nodded, and huddled a little closer to Eugene. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” After a few quiet, thoughtful moments, a small smile creeped back up on your face when you thought of something to bring up the mood again.

“You never heard me teasing you about Renée,” you muttered beneath your breath, loud enough for him to hear and correct you on because you had teased him about the Belgian nurse. Before he could, you pushed on, your grin growing, “Hey, what about you and Babe, huh?”

Now it was his turn to turn to you shocked. Your snickering was interrupted by the roaring, deafening sound of a bombardment shredding trees around you.

“Shit!” you cursed, the night sky lighting up with fireworks of yellow and white. Snow and dirt erupted from the ground like spurts of lava from a volcano. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard bellows of “Incoming!” and other indistinct cries.

Turning to the man next to you, you shouted above the din, “Eugene, you alright?”

“Fine,” he shouted back as he clutched his helmet tight to his head. “You?”

“Fine,” you echoed with a nod, though maybe your head had moved on its own with the shaking ground beneath you. You strained your ears to single out cries for a medic; you didn't catch any, and you weren't sure if that was because no one had gotten hurt yet or because they were dead within an instant.

You peeped over the edge of your foxhole. In the flashes of light, you could make out amongst the silhouette of wrecked trees George hurriedly crawling on the ground towards a foxhole with two soldiers in it, yelling for him to come on. If your hearing wasn't failing you, you recognized their voices as Skip and Penk.

“What d’ya see?” Eugene poked his head out of the foxhole.

Your voice was strangled in your throat as you helplessly watched George inch his way toward cover. “I—” you started, before a shell directly hit the two men in the middle of their calls. Frantically, you backed into your foxhole. “Skip and Penk, they’re…”

“What?” Eugene shouted, and you realized you had only murmured it.

“Muck and Penkala got hit!” you cried. The look you gave Eugene told him that there would be no saving them.

You got back up to peek over your foxhole and saw that Luz had vanished. Your heart sank in your chest, right down to the pits of your stomach.

Before your mind could register what was going on, your feet lifted you up and out of the foxhole. You could faintly hear Eugene yelling at you to come back, (Y/N), what the hell are you doing? You hit the ground at the same time a shell did just meters away from you, showering you in debris. Yet, you felt distant from the thought of danger or bodily harm, your raw instinct on overdrive; the only thing that was running through your mind as you dashed through the devastated forest was if George was okay.

Eyes flitting around, you caught a glimpse of him getting into a foxhole with Lip. As waves of relief washed over you, you jumped into a foxhole a distance behind them. A shell impacted nearby and swept the fallen trees acting as their cover towards you. You pulled your knees close to your chest and covered your head, staying like that as the barrage kept up.

Then, for just a second, it was silent. Closing your eyes, you caught your breath. A whistling sound ceased the brief respite, and you peered over just in time to see smoke coming from George and Lipton’s foxhole. Your mind disconnected itself from your body once again; it felt like you were moving in slow motion as your feet took you to them. That smoke clouded your senses, your thoughts — all you could see and hear were the vivid memories of Hoobler’s wound gushing blood and his dull eyes closing shut for the last time; you treating Bill’s still twitching leg while Toye’s shredded one was being bandaged by Eugene only feet away; and Muck and Penkala’s foxhole going up in a spray of dirt and a show of light, abruptly cutting off their shouting.

What were you going to see when you arrived at their foxhole? Bloodstained snow? Mangled limbs? Ruined corpses? Even the thought made you want to sob.

Your heart thundered in your ear, louder than any bombs or artillery the Germans could send at you, but you could vaguely discern George’s voice in your trance.

“Damn it, am I yelling medic? Stay right fucking there, (Y/N)!”

Right as you were shaken out of your own head, your eyes focusing on the two unharmed men as they yelled for you to stay put, a shell hit a tree hardly an arm’s length away from you. The burst launched you backwards, lodging shrapnel into your face and all over your body.

You let your eyes flutter closed as the screaming started.

-

“(Y/N)!” George bawled, witnessing the last shell of the bombardment blast the tree right next to you.

“George, get down!” Lip pushed George down into the foxhole from where he'd been peeking over to helplessly watch your unsteady advance.

George couldn't get the image of you shielding yourself at the last second out of his head. He broke free from Lipton and crawled out of his foxhole to your unmoving figure, relieved to find that you were still breathing out clouds of vapor, albeit unevenly. Your right cheek was cut and bleeding, as well as your arms, legs, torso — hell, was there anywhere you weren’t bleeding from?

He cradled your head to his, whispering that it's gonna be alright and you’re gonna be just dandy, (Y/N), even though he didn't believe those words himself. He lifted his head from yours and yelled for a medic with a hoarse voice, already scratched up from having to shout over the booming to tell Lipton that Muck and Penkala got hit.

George then realized that he had gotten extremely lucky that day; Muck and Penkala had been shelled just before he reached their foxhole, and the shell that had landed next to him and Lipton was a dud. Staring down at your bloodied form, he darkly concluded that maybe he wasn't lucky — maybe he just brought bad luck to everyone else.

Eugene seemed to materialize out of thin air at the panicked calls for a doctor and kneeled over you, ordering, “Set ‘em down, set ‘em down!” George laid you down on the icy ground, and he saw that your eyes were open now, darting around at your surroundings. You looked frightened and pained, yet when your eyes finally settled on him, you seemed somewhat at ease.

“Jesus, what did I tell you, (Y/N)?” Eugene reprimanded, but the concern in his voice was evident. He began picking out the shrapnel from your flesh, and you wailed out in agony. Ripping open a sulfa packet with his teeth, he then shook the powder onto your countless wounds.

In the back of his mind, George knew that your pained whimpers would haunt him forever if you didn't pull through, acting as the price of his "good luck".

“Told me to come back, Genie,” you smiled mirthlessly, which quickly became a wince with the gash in your cheek. The white medic band around your arm was stained the same color as the red cross on it.

Lipton was out of the foxhole at this point and assisting Eugene with bandaging your injuries. “You’ll be fine, alright? Just hang in there.”

George registered that he had only been staring, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your clammy hand, to which you weakly squeezed back.

Grimacing while he injected you with morphine, Eugene said to Lipton, “They’re bleeding bad, Sarge; we gotta get ‘em back to an aid station.”

George’s voice sounded far off from himself. “I’ll radio for a jeep.” As he did so, his hand still clutching yours, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the excruciation on your face. For some reason, he felt guilty.

Though it felt like years to him, the jeep arrived shortly, and the three of them carried you to the stretcher on the hood of the vehicle and gingerly placed you upon it.

Gazing down upon you on that stretcher, your face streaked with crimson, your hair matted with dried blood, George wanted to say, “I still find you beautiful, Bloody Mary," but for what felt like first time in his life, the words weren't there and the wiseass comment just refused to come out right.

What came tumbling out of his lips instead was, “I love you.”

Pausing, Lipton and Eugene exchanged a knowing look and watched with bated breath. Meanwhile, George wanted to smack himself for letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins get to him; this was definitely not what you wanted to hear — rejecting him should be the least of your worries right now.

To his utter disbelief, you smiled, in spite of yourself and the grim circumstances. “I love you too, George.”

Once his brain wrapped around the fact that you needed him as much as he needed you, he implored, "Come back to me, alright?” He gently caressed your cheek, his voice sounding different to himself with the undertone of desperation. “I—I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You placed a feeble hand over his and turned to press a kiss to it. “I'm counting on it.”

The driver finally grew tired of the delay and urged them to get moving. George stepped away as Eugene hopped in the jeep’s shotgun seat to escort you back to the aid station.

Lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, George watched the jeep dissipate into the blanket of night.

-

Eugene let things sink in for a while; you were grateful for the time to rest as the morphine kicked in. When you arrived, though, you were awake enough to hear him ask again, a rare smirk hidden in his voice:

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @fxxiva

[hbowartournament]

rarepair polls round two:

learn how to steal this poll