Bullet Train Blog: bullettrainbitch OFMD Blog: stedesimp *Basically nothing on this account is serious and I intend no disrespect to the real men of Easy Company, all content is based off the actors’ portrayals in the series :)
i have a little more time on my hands atm, so i decided to take another crack at digital art! i usually am a very traditional paper/ink girl but im really happy how my little liebgott drawing turned out! i think im gonna try to do more stuff on my ipad since i had fun!
Thank you SO much, I love this! I’ve never received a moodboard before!!! I literally cannot remember if it asked about what colors I wanted in the form but THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE COLORS SO I LOVE IT EVEN MORE!!!!
Merry Christmas and thank you again for my beautiful gift! ♥️♥️♥️
Here is the link to your Sledge x Snafu fic! It was a bit intimidating writing for uncharted territory but I had a lot of fun with these characters. December was kind of hectic for me so there’s a chance I might need to go back and make some edits that I missed, but I hope you enjoy what I came up with nonetheless. Thank you so much for your help and responses to my asks!
Secret santa here: what are some of your favorite tropes?
Hi!! I’m really big on fluff (though I can handle hurt/angst if there’s comfort), so I love all those sappy tropes. If you’re writing about more than just the pairing or one character, my all time favorite is found family.
Specifically for relationships, I love reading about intimacy (physical touch, quality time, etc.). Caretaking & sick fics are definitely up there. Love domestic fluff if you’re going for something post-war.
I really love when characters are happy and are just able to love each other (platonically or romantically) without hesitation!
Thank you for asking, I hope some of this helped. Let me know if you need any more ideas since this is a bit vague! Good luck writing, I look forward to it :)
one of these days I'm gonna write that "the five times Dick Winters could not control his face around Lewis Nixon" outsider pov fic and ya'll won't SURVIVE
I've been thinking about posting some HC's I have since I found out there's an actual fandom of BoB (I recently found all those AO3's fics and I'm living). They are, mostly, wishful thinking and lots of what-if's, but since my only contribution to the fandom so far is lots of reblogging...
Speirton HC: I have this feeling that Speirs is really Intense. He would have this impulse to give Lip everything to make him happy and more, meaning he would give him like, Idk, every single chocolate bar from a specific brand he scavenges if he ever found out it is Lip¡'s favorite. That'd translate to the bedroom (I'll try to make it vague enough so it's not NSFW). He'd pleasure Lip, find all the spots that make him shiver and gasp and moan, and don't stop. He'd do it until Lip is practically shaking with overstimulation and crying, and keep going even then. He'd just stop when he's sure he's wrung out every single drop of pleasure out of him and Lip's pliable in his arms. Because he takes his sweet time to compromise, but once he's in, he's all in. All of him.
Winnix HC: More wishful thinking, but I like to imagine that Nix would take his time wooing Dick. He'd take him to the movies and pay for snacks every single time (Dick's always frustrated because he only manages to pay for tickets half of the times they go), they'd go together on dates, hidden dates so no one ever knows. One particular scene I imagine is of them still in Toccoa (with Sobel) and Nix promising Dick he'd take him out to a wonderful diner with the best ice cream ever made by man (his words). Unfortunately, E-Company get all their passes withdrawn and Nix can't take Dick out.
But.
Somehow he manages to get his hands on some ice cream (bribe? blackmail? he'd do any and all of that for Dick) and a small quiet place in which to put a table and two chairs and somehow, somehow, they get that date. They share the ice cream and talk, they go on a walk together, knuckles brushing, and Nix, the gentleman he is, makes sure Dick gets home (aka the billet they share) safely, just to get inside five minutes later, swooning and saying he just had the best date ever with a blue-eyed redhead with legs for days. Just to make Dick laugh. And then he'd kiss him, closed-mouth and sweet. Because he cares for Dick and wants to do everything by the book, because that's what Dick deserves.
And lastly, Webgott HC: I'm sure, I'm sO SURE OF IT, Joe is the kind of motherfucker that pulled the girl he liked by her piggytails and he would do the same. exact. thing. to Web. He'd tease him and calle him names (Harvard and college boy and bookworm) and drive him up the walls and get in this personal space until Web storms out cussing him. And one day he'd see him reading and demand (not ask) him to read it out loud for him, that he needs something to put him to sleep. And Webster does, annoyed. And Joes sleeps deeply and peacefully for the first time in weeks. But not because the reading is boring, as he says, but because Web's voice is soft and steady and calm and it lulls him into safety. And soon he's getting in Web's bed and forcing him to read something, whatever, and Webster does even though there's no light and no book to read. Because, in the night hours, after Liebgott gets under his sheets but before he leaves to his own bed, David gets to hold him tightly by his waist and pet his hair like an overgrown grumpy cat, soft and unburdened by the war.
(Jesus-fucking-Christ it's my first time writing something so long in English, so very sorry if some wording sounds weird)
Hello! @eugeneroehoe ! I’m your secret gift-giver! I had a really great time writing this, but can you tell I’m long-winded? Paring this down was a challenge!
I’ll post the story here below the cut and link to my AO3. I hope you like it!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Winter’s comin’ in hard. Only October and the season’s first long drift of snow has blown over their village swiftly these past three days. His Andy has been sleeping poorly—says the cold air makes his head hurt, but Eddie hardly sleeps anyway and he’s been watching Andy fight his way in and outta dreams for months. Years. Puts him back to bed with his mouth when Andy wakes up gasping or crying. Could almost appreciate the arrangement, if it didn’t mean Andy were so far away, somewhere in the Solomons without him.
Massachusetts and Maryland don’t seem all that far apart, but the winters up North ain’t like nothin’ Eddie’s ever seen. Eight years out and six years here, Eddie still don’t understand how Andy can smoke barefoot on their back porch like it ain’t 15 degrees in the sunshine, like Eddie ain’t shivering in a blanket by their wood stove.
This morning, Eddie regrets having to leave him before dawn. He dresses in his own trousers and Andy’s flannel shirt and jacket, his own boots and belt and Andy’s wool coat. When he gets to the Matthews’, they won’t be able to see it, the way he’s got Andy’s love dripping off him, but he’ll know. It’s what keeps him company on these odd jobs.
On the roof, Eddie yanks off one glove with his teeth, needs to get a better hold on this shingle and nail, but the sun has only been shining on his back for thirty minutes, so it shouldn’t surprise that his fingers freeze near-solid and clumsy. He near deserves it when his hammer comes down to shatter them.
“Skip?” Eddie calls into their home, nose nipped red, his dumb, injured fingers curled up into his sleeve, as he shucks out of Andy’s coat. He gives up on his bootlaces without much effort, instead stomps the packed snow from the tread and calls again when he receives no answer, “Andy?”
He finds him in the back of their home where the kitchen in sunk, a step down from the rest of the house, and bathed yellow in late morning light. Impossibly inviting with his cotton shirt and blue jeans and pale, bare feet. He’s turned away, his hip leant against the kitchen counter, head cocked to the side as he examines their refrigerator. Eddie knows just from the set of his shoulders that he’s scowling at it.
“As much as I admire that look in a CO, I doubt you could win a staring contest with a machine, Skip.” teases Eddie, stepping down into the kitchen. Always fuckin’ cold in here, three bare walls tryin’ to keep out the winter. Failing most days, too.
But Andy doesn’t move. Outside, the weather is picking up again, the window above the sink has frosted shut despite the sun’s better efforts to thaw it. Eddie’s frozen, busted fingers throb in sympathy.
“Hey,” Eddie comes to his back, tapping the counter next to Andy’s hip, and wrapping an arm around his waist as he startles some. Andy blinks, and Eddie catches the moment he realizes it’s him. When he sighs and smiles and leans back into his embrace, Eddie’s own darlin’. He squeezes him ‘round the middle, kisses his temple—that secret and favorite place of his, where Andy’s startin’ to gray—and looks over Andy’s shoulder to find what he’d been glarin’ at: the note Eddie left him this morning.
He sets another kiss below Andy’s ear—right where the wire oughtta be—and hums a realization into his neck. Gently twisting Andy to face him, Eddie signs and asks aloud, “Where are your ears?”
They’re new, and fucking expensive. Seven years and some months of living with one ear out of commission, Andy cried and told Eddie, I’d forgotten what your voice was like all around me.
Now, Andy shakes his head and tells him, “Took ‘em out, was bothering me. Everything makes so much noise now. Did you know this goddamn thing buzzes?” He jabs a thumb at the fridge. Andy never bothers to sign back, even after all the time spent learning.
“That what’s bothering you?” Eddie raises his brow. He curls his fingers around the shell of Andy’s ear, like he might soothe him.
“That—and then this.” He turns and snatches down the note. “I remember there was something today, you told me yesterday.”
“That’s right.”
“But I couldn’t remember what. And then this... Like it’s written in fucking Chinese. I can’t read the damn thing.”
Eddie assures him, “It ain’t important,” and takes the note from Andy’s fist, “Says I was at the Matthew’s.” Andy watches Eddie as he throws it away, asking, signing, “you remember me sayin’ that last night?”
“I do. Now, I do.”
Eddie dips in for a kiss, but Andy’s sour scowl is still there when he pulls away.
“Head’s like cotton today.” Andy says.
Andy’s winter is comin’ in hard. So, Eddie kisses him again and brews them coffee while Andy curls up by the window, cracked open so he can smoke inside. When Eddie passes him his drink, Andy snatches up his half-broken hand and flattens it against his palm. Worries at where his fingernails have gone purple.
“What did you do?”
Andy don’t believe him when he says it’s nothing. Gently, he curls his hand around Eddie’s battered fingers and brings them to his lips to kiss them right, and nothing can quell the falling and flying of Eddie’s heart, a fluttering bird. Andy is the best man Eddie knows; it’s a marvel sometimes, to be loved by him.
Eddie settles into his place behind Andy, curving around him like a river. Hums a song he’s heard somewhere, low and warm, and Andy keeps his place in Eddie’s arms until the quiet of the snow and the warmth of Eddie’s body have lulled him to sleep. Hands cradling Eddie’s precious fingers, even here he doesn’t let go.
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I love it bro I’m like speechless (as I continue to type more things to say) This is so much better than anything I could imagine 😩 YOU’RE EXTREMELY TALENTED, THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR GIFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“I’d forgotten what your voice was like all around me.” SHUT THE FUCK UP BRO. THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED
The melancholy moments blended so well with the bits of humor, it’s literally so well balanced and I laughed out loud while reading ‼️
AGAIN THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES!!! THIS WAS PERFECT AND EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED ♥️♥️♥️💞💞💞
(Also I totally get it about being long-winded, when I was writing my own I was like 😨 when I saw I went over 1k and was nowhere near done LMFAO, it’s not easy!! But you pulled it off so well oh my god 😩)
Hi, @mylastresortiswriting! I was your short story gifter for HBO War Daily’s short story event! Thanks for your help in letting me know what you wanted from my anon ask. It was VERY difficult for me to write something within the word count, but I hope you enjoy what I came up with :)
Home
Edward ‘Babe’ Heffron & Eugene Roe
Babe can’t figure out how to deal with the after effects of war, and goes to the only person he knows can help.
Word count: 994
Going home was harder than Babe could’ve ever expected, somehow. War seemed like hell, but it wasn’t until it was over that he realized how used to it he’d become. And he wasn’t even one of the guys who had been in it from the start.
He thought about how this was the last time he’d have any reason to wear this uniform on the train home. Unless Hitler had a brother he didn’t know about, or something.
No more uniform, no more explosions, no more death. That should be a comforting thought. But when he laid back down on his real bed at home the first night, he didn’t sleep at all. He got up and went for a walk around his neighborhood as though floating, just a presence rather than a person. It was his home, and somehow he felt like he no longer belonged to it.
His family wanted to celebrate his safe return, but it only reminded him of Bill’s not-so-safe return, and made him upset. They opted for a special dinner of all of Babe’s favorite foods, but resisted inviting the entirety of Pennsylvania over and kept it to close family only. It was nice, but Babe was mostly quiet.
Anytime someone asked him a question about what he saw while he was gone, he just shook his head. There was no way he was going to ruin the innocence of his loved ones by giving them even a hint of what it really was to feed their imaginations. Imaginations were usually worse than reality when it came to thinking of horrors, but Babe thought this might be the only exception. What he saw was worse than anything a mind could conjure up.
Days turned into weeks, then months, and eventually his family gave up on asking him if he was okay. They knew the answer would always be the same lie.
Working a regular job was weird. He woke up to his mother’s soft voice calling to him instead of screaming or explosions. He’d go in, talk to his coworkers, many of whom were in the exact same situation as him, and pretend like nothing was wrong.
He visited Bill a lot after work, so much so that Bill’s ma stopped asking who was at the door when he knocked, instead just opening it for him with a smile.
Sometimes he and Bill talked, other times they said not much at all. This time had been different, though. Bill wasn’t exactly the most intuitive guy, but even he could tell something was on Babe’s mind.
“What’s wrong, kid?”
“Have you talked to any of the guys? Since?” Babe mumbled, fumbling with his sleeve to get some of his nervous energy out. He kept his eyes downcast, but he could feel Bill staring holes into his face.
“A little,” Bill answered with a small shrug that Babe couldn’t see. “Mostly Toye. I thought about writing to Winters just to say…well, I don’t know what. Somethin’. But I haven’t yet. Why?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout them. A lot. ‘Specially Gene,” Babe admits quietly, glancing up and then back down quickly, as though afraid of what Bill’s reaction would be.
Bill nodded slowly, rubbing his chin with his hand. “Hard not to. You took a liking to him, I seem to remember.”
“Oh, Christ, Heffron. I can’t believe you of all people are worryin’ about manners.” Bill rolls his eyes and shifts on his bed.
“But if I don’t know what to say now, how the hell will I when I’m standin’ right in front of him?”
“If you really miss him, you’ll have something to say,” Bill says simply, almost dismissively. Babe knew then that he’d lost.
Then he was on the front steps of Eugene’s house, taking it in as if it were something more grand than it really was. When he’d gotten off his bus and asked the first person he saw for directions, he immediately recognized the accent and only then did he truly know how much he’d wanted to hear it again.
He’d much prefer it coming from the mouth of his friend, which would come true if he could bring himself to knock on the damn door. He sits down on the steps instead.
“Edward.”
Babe nearly jumps out of his skin and turns to look over his shoulder. After the war, he’d been so sensitized to sound, but he hadn’t even heard the door open. Gene was always like that, silent.
“How did you know I was out here?” Babe asks dumbly, too stunned to think of anything a little more touching. He quickly takes in the sight of Gene in civilian clothes, almost stunned by it. Like he’d been expecting him to open the door to his home with that same red cross on his arm.
Gene’s lips pull into one of his almost-smiles, small and subtle, and Babe feels like he might cry. “I saw your shadow through the window. Thought maybe you were a ghost.”
“Funny, I kind of feel like I am.”
“Is that why you’re here? I can’t bring back a dead person.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Gene’s eyes are empty as he says it.
“Gene, I-” Babe’s own throat won’t let him speak, and his eyes burn.
Eugene tilts his head a little, gently closes the door behind him and approaches Babe. When Babe continues to say nothing, he sits down on the step beside him. Babe just looks at him.
Babe inhales sharply. “I thought I’d know what to say.”
“Then maybe you don’t need to say anything at all.”
Babe’s shoulders drop, then he pulls the man into a hug. They stay like that, and for the first time in months, Babe feels okay.
thank you for the tag @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not!
Last song: The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance.
Last show/movie: The Bear/The Last Voyage of the Demeter.
Currently watching: No matter when you ask me this question, the answer will always be Band of Brothers.
Currently reading: With the Old Bread by Eugene Sledge.
Current obsession: Speirs' eyelashes, editing BoB, Carwood's smile in ep04<3 LOOK AT HIM!!!
tagging (no pressure, only if you want to do it!): @blvestxr @noneedtoamputate @kafka-ohdear @mads-weasley @iceman-kazansky @sonne-liebgott @midgetlover6 @teabights @multifandomfanfic
i also have no idea if i’m doing this right (i’m rlly bad at tumblr) so i’m sorry if this is formatted wrong or something!
last song: dancing on the ceiling- chet baker
last show/movie: revolutionary road (guys don’t watch it unless you want to have an existential crisis)
currently watching: the pacific + band of brothers (also again)
currently reading: a raisin in the sun- lorraine hansbury
current obsession: band of brothers, bts, keanu reeves, miniature dachshunds (ik that’s not a fandom or anything but i really want one)
im gonna tag my new friend! @eugeneroehoe
i’ve gotten a ton of new mutuals this week but i’m sure they’ve already been tagged. if not and i missed you i’m so sorry! happy to be here y’all, thanks for being so welcoming!
areudirty
origamiaround
theartofmadeline
dededos
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
blakekathryn
