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 actorsâ portrayals in the series :)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
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! Iâve 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! âĽď¸âĽď¸âĽď¸
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 thereâs 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!! Iâm really big on fluff (though I can handle hurt/angst if thereâs comfort), so I love all those sappy tropes. If youâre 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 youâre 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 :)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
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 LipÂĄ'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 ! Iâm your secret gift-giver! I had a really great time writing this, but can you tell Iâm long-winded? Paring this down was a challenge!
Iâll 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
Winterâs cominâ in hard. Only October and the seasonâs first long drift of snow has blown over their village swiftly these past three days. His Andy has been sleeping poorlyâsays the cold air makes his head hurt, but Eddie hardly sleeps anyway and heâs 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 didnât mean Andy were so far away, somewhere in the Solomons without him.
Massachusetts and Maryland donât seem all that far apart, but the winters up North ainât like nothinâ Eddieâs ever seen. Eight years out and six years here, Eddie still donât understand how Andy can smoke barefoot on their back porch like it ainât 15 degrees in the sunshine, like Eddie ainât 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 Andyâs flannel shirt and jacket, his own boots and belt and Andyâs wool coat. When he gets to the Matthewsâ, they wonât be able to see it, the way heâs got Andyâs love dripping off him, but heâll know. Itâs 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 shouldnât surprise that his fingers freeze near-solid and clumsy. He near deserves it when his hammer comes down to shatter them.
âSkip?â Eddie calls into their home, nose nipped red, his dumb, injured fingers curled up into his sleeve, as he shucks out of Andyâs 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, âAndy?â
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. Heâs 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 heâs scowling at it.
âAs much as I admire that look in a CO, I doubt you could win a staring contest with a machine, Skip.â teases Eddie, stepping down into the kitchen. Always fuckinâ cold in here, three bare walls tryinâ to keep out the winter. Failing most days, too.
But Andy doesnât move. Outside, the weather is picking up again, the window above the sink has frosted shut despite the sunâs better efforts to thaw it. Eddieâs frozen, busted fingers throb in sympathy.
âHey,â Eddie comes to his back, tapping the counter next to Andyâs hip, and wrapping an arm around his waist as he startles some. Andy blinks, and Eddie catches the moment he realizes itâs him. When he sighs and smiles and leans back into his embrace, Eddieâs own darlinâ. He squeezes him âround the middle, kisses his templeâthat secret and favorite place of his, where Andyâs startinâ to grayâand looks over Andyâs shoulder to find what heâd been glarinâ at: the note Eddie left him this morning.
He sets another kiss below Andyâs earâright where the wire oughtta beâand hums a realization into his neck. Gently twisting Andy to face him, Eddie signs and asks aloud, âWhere are your ears?â
Theyâre new, and fucking expensive. Seven years and some months of living with one ear out of commission, Andy cried and told Eddie, Iâd forgotten what your voice was like all around me.
Now, Andy shakes his head and tells him, âTook âem out, was bothering me. Everything makes so much noise now. Did you know this goddamn thing buzzes?â He jabs a thumb at the fridge. Andy never bothers to sign back, even after all the time spent learning.
âThat whatâs bothering you?â Eddie raises his brow. He curls his fingers around the shell of Andyâs ear, like he might soothe him.
âThatâand then this.â He turns and snatches down the note. âI remember there was something today, you told me yesterday.â
âThatâs right.â
âBut I couldnât remember what. And then this... Like itâs written in fucking Chinese. I canât read the damn thing.â
Eddie assures him, âIt ainât important,â and takes the note from Andyâs fist, âSays I was at the Matthewâs.â Andy watches Eddie as he throws it away, asking, signing, âyou remember me sayinâ that last night?â
âI do. Now, I do.â
Eddie dips in for a kiss, but Andyâs sour scowl is still there when he pulls away.
âHeadâs like cotton today.â Andy says.
Andyâs winter is cominâ 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.
âWhat did you do?â
Andy donât believe him when he says itâs nothing. Gently, he curls his hand around Eddieâs battered fingers and brings them to his lips to kiss them right, and nothing can quell the falling and flying of Eddieâs heart, a fluttering bird. Andy is the best man Eddie knows; itâs a marvel sometimes, to be loved by him.
Eddie settles into his place behind Andy, curving around him like a river. Hums a song heâs heard somewhere, low and warm, and Andy keeps his place in Eddieâs arms until the quiet of the snow and the warmth of Eddieâs body have lulled him to sleep. Hands cradling Eddieâs precious fingers, even here he doesnât let go.
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I love it bro Iâm like speechless (as I continue to type more things to say) This is so much better than anything I could imagine đŠ YOUâRE EXTREMELY TALENTED, THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR GIFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
âIâd forgotten what your voice was like all around me.â SHUT THE FUCK UP BRO. THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED
The melancholy moments blended so well with the bits of humor, itâs literally so well balanced and I laughed out loud while reading âźď¸
AGAIN THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES!!! THIS WAS PERFECT AND EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED âĽď¸âĽď¸âĽď¸đđđ
(Also I totally get it about being long-winded, when I was writing my own I was like đ¨ when I saw I went over 1k and was nowhere near done LMFAO, itâs not easy!! But you pulled it off so well oh my god đŠ)
Hi, @mylastresortiswriting! I was your short story gifter for HBO War Dailyâs 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 âBabeâ Heffron & Eugene Roe
Babe canât 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 couldâve ever expected, somehow. War seemed like hell, but it wasnât until it was over that he realized how used to it heâd become. And he wasnât even one of the guys who had been in it from the start.
He thought about how this was the last time heâd have any reason to wear this uniform on the train home. Unless Hitler had a brother he didnât 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 didnât 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 Billâs not-so-safe return, and made him upset. They opted for a special dinner of all of Babeâs 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 motherâs soft voice calling to him instead of screaming or explosions. Heâd 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 Billâs 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 wasnât exactly the most intuitive guy, but even he could tell something was on Babeâs mind.
âWhatâs wrong, kid?â
âHave you talked to any of the guys? Since?â 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.
âA little,â Bill answered with a small shrug that Babe couldnât see. âMostly Toye. I thought about writing to Winters just to sayâŚwell, I donât know what. Somethinâ. But I havenât yet. Why?â
âIâve been thinkinâ âbout them. A lot. âSpecially Gene,â Babe admits quietly, glancing up and then back down quickly, as though afraid of what Billâs reaction would be.
Bill nodded slowly, rubbing his chin with his hand. âHard not to. You took a liking to him, I seem to remember.â
âOh, Christ, Heffron. I canât believe you of all people are worryinâ about manners.â Bill rolls his eyes and shifts on his bed.
âBut if I donât know what to say now, how the hell will I when Iâm standinâ right in front of him?â
âIf you really miss him, youâll have something to say,â Bill says simply, almost dismissively. Babe knew then that heâd lost.
Then he was on the front steps of Eugeneâs house, taking it in as if it were something more grand than it really was. When heâd 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 heâd wanted to hear it again.
Heâd 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.
âEdward.â
Babe nearly jumps out of his skin and turns to look over his shoulder. After the war, heâd been so sensitized to sound, but he hadnât even heard the door open. Gene was always like that, silent.
âHow did you know I was out here?â 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 heâd been expecting him to open the door to his home with that same red cross on his arm.
Geneâs lips pull into one of his almost-smiles, small and subtle, and Babe feels like he might cry. âI saw your shadow through the window. Thought maybe you were a ghost.â
âFunny, I kind of feel like I am.â
âIs that why youâre here? I canât bring back a dead person.â Itâs meant to be a joke, but Geneâs eyes are empty as he says it.
âGene, I-â Babeâs own throat wonât 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. âI thought Iâd know what to say.â
âThen maybe you donât need to say anything at all.â
Babeâs shoulders drop, then he pulls the man into a hug. They stay like that, and for the first time in months, Babe feels okay.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
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 iâm doing this right (iâm rlly bad at tumblr) so iâm sorry if this is formatted wrong or something!
last song: dancing on the ceiling- chet baker
last show/movie: revolutionary road (guys donât 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 thatâs not a fandom or anything but i really want one)
im gonna tag my new friend! @eugeneroehoe
iâve gotten a ton of new mutuals this week but iâm sure theyâve already been tagged. if not and i missed you iâm so sorry! happy to be here yâall, thanks for being so welcoming!
stormborns
romaincrisis
2087
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
