#Hoosier tires | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softspeirs · 1 month

Text

Then and There, Wind in Your Hair (Bill “Hoosier” Smith x OC)

Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (could be read as an un-named OC or a reader insert) Summary: After their meeting in Melbourne, Hoosier writes a few letters, dreams a few dreams, and finds her again after coming home. A/N: I know what you’re thinking - “Katie, aren’t you neck deep in your Masters of the Air hyper fixation?!” and the answer is yes, but I just had to write a companion piece to Clouds Overhead. You don’t have to read that one first, but some elements might make more sense if you do. Disclaimer: I don’t own The Pacific. Please don’t repost, translate, or use this fic for AI without my permission.

And we both laid entwined, stared at the night Clouds overhead, but that was all right ‘Cause then and there with the wind in your hair Heaven was jealous to merely look fair against you

He can’t remember how many days it’s been since he was in Melbourne.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he’s able to block out the rapid pounding of his heart and the distant ack-ack of machine gun fire and remember the sound of the waves on the beach, the feeling of her hair tickling his jaw.

There’s a part of him that’s worried he’s going to forget her face, though he’s not sure how that’s possible.

He’s worried about a lot of things. Worried is standard operating procedure these days.

They haven’t been able to get mail out in weeks, the shelling too intense for anything even resembling a CP or a supply depot to be set up, even behind the lines. The lines change rapidly in the Pacific, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to try to find it even if he did have a letter to send to her.

He’s surprised when they’re finally taken off the line, and there’s mail waiting for him.

Bill, it starts, and he smiles, because she’s the first person in a long time that almost outright refuses to call him Hoosier.

Bill,

I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off. The War Department has us all running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready for our next deployment.

I’m not sure where we’ll be going yet, and I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you if I did. I just hope wherever it is, it’s not as hot as it was in the Philippines when I was there.

Mostly, I hope this whole thing is over soon. I know it’s naïve of me. I signed up to go to war, and I don’t regret it, but I’m tired. I know you are too.

I hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

Thinking of you.

She signs it off with a metaphorical kiss, and he feels his heart kick into overdrive. He knows it’s dangerous, but he’s starting to dream about someday, and he can’t stop himself.

Surprisingly, the other guys don’t rag on him about it. They ask him a few questions, but they’re all so distracted about whatever’s coming next, there’s no thought about razzing anyone who’s finding a little slice of joy in anything outside of this hell hole.

He writes her back when he finally has a minute to think.

It’s been a long week, I think. He tells her.

I don’t really know how long it’s been since we were in Melbourne, but I think about it almost every day.

He wonders if he’s showing his hand too much, but he can’t help himself.

I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re far from the lines, wherever they are, and that things aren’t too bad. We were pulled off the line for a few days here, but I don’t think it’s going to last long.

“Hoosier.” Leckie says, voice hesitant like he hates to be the one to break him out of his letter writing. “We’re moving out.”

Bill sighs. Of course. Not a moment’s reprieve.

I think about you often. He scratches, hesitating only a moment. And I hope that’s okay with you, because it’s just about the only thing getting me out of the trench in the morning.

I hope you’re safe. I’m going to do my best to try to stay safe too.

Yours,

Bill

He writes to her nearly every day. He knows she’ll probably get a few of the letters all at once since the mail is so backed up, but he has nowhere else to put his thoughts, and it’s sending him half insane.

Most of his notes to her are mundane, stories about his guys and only a little bit about the mess going on in his brain. If she were here in person, he’s sure she’d look him dead in the eyes and demand he tell her what he’s thinking, but he tries to shield her from it, at least a little bit.

Her letters are the same, stories about the friends she’s making and at the bottom of one, a piece he rips off and shoves in his trunk - her address back home in Chicago.

Just in case something unexpected happens, I expect you to call on me, Private Smith. I’ll wait for you. There’s no one else.

It brands him like a tattoo right above his heart, on his breastbone where no one but him can see.

I’ll wait for you.

It’s the last thought he has right before it all goes to hell.

When he wakes up in a hospital a week later, he’s half out of his mind with exhaustion and morphine. Still, his first thought is of her.

He asks about her, and the nurse frowns at him. “No one here with that name, sugar. Sorry.”

Did he dream her?

Did his brain invent her just as a survival tactic to make it out alive?

When he sleeps, he does dream of her. He dreams of them. He dreams of that cookie cutter life with the white picket fence, and her smile. He pictures tangerine sunsets and a backyard barbecue. He pictures a little girl with her eyes and his smile.

When he wakes, he wishes he could fall back asleep.

He doesn’t get any mail, and he doesn’t have the time or the energy to write any letters himself. He’s hauled day after day into an empty room for rehabilitation, where a nice Lieutenant named Lanie listens to him curse a blue streak as he tries to put weight on his leg.

“Lanie, I’m beggin’ you to just write down that you saw me walk.”

She frowns. “No can do, Private. Besides, what good is that going to do you? Don’t want to get your dancing shoes on again someday?”

He snorts. “Who’s going to teach me how not to have two left feet?”

She shrugs. “I’ll do it. Or how about that girl you keep asking after? I bet she’d be a willing participant.”

He levels her with a hard gaze. “Lanie, if you know something...”

“Honest, Hoosier. I don’t know.” She leans in a little closer. “The hospital unit is still on the island and they’re socked in. I haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend there to ask her. You know how it can be.”

He sighs. “I know. Thanks for trying.”

“Now do me a favor, will you? Take a few steps so I can get rid of you and go eat some lunch.”

That night when he can’t sleep, he limps his way down to the mess. There’s a few other guys there, but he finds a table alone. Under dim light, he pens out another letter that he hopes makes it to her.

I’m in the hospital, he writes, his hand shaking a little bit from lack of use.

I have no idea if you’ll ever get this. I hope you do. I don’t want you to wonder.

What you told me in the last letter I got from you has kept me going. And it goes without saying (hopefully) that I’ll wait for you too.

Another nurse here, Lieutenant Elaine Meadows (don’t call her that, though, she’ll rip your head off. We call her Lanie) said she’ll keep her eyes and ears open for you if you ever make it here, or if one of your letters ever shows up here for me.

At the bottom is my home address in Indiana. Sorry to say, but I think I’ve got a ticket home.

If you find yourself stateside soon, and God, I really hope you do, please let me know.

I owe you a date.

Twelve weeks go by. He goes home. And between the agony of his leg and the mess inside his mind, Bill’s morale plummets.

He’s thrown back into the absolutely insane situation of having to find a job, but he can’t even fathom trying to work for someone so soon after fighting for his life. He has no idea how any of it makes sense anymore.

He almost sleeps through V-E Day, but manages to drag himself out of his bedroom and have a drink with his dad on V-J Day. They’re both quiet, out on the front porch of the house, listening to the revelry from the neighbors.

“You should get out of town for a few days.” His dad says, out of nowhere.

He frowns. “Pop?” He leans forward, wincing as he straightens his leg. “What do you mean?”

“You need-- you need to get your mind busy again. Take a break from all this, get your mind right, and decide what’s next.” He gives Bill a wry grin. “Besides, where’s that girl of yours, anyway?”

Bill feels himself pale. “I don’t--”

“Oh, don’t bother. You’re not a very good liar.”

Bill chuckles. “Guess not.” His hands tap out a rhythm on his knees, his body and mind unable to be still for too long these days. “Chicago.” He says finally. “She’ll be in Chicago.”

His dad nods. “Interesting.”

He still hasn’t heard from her by the time he makes up his mind to just go for it. He’s been seeing in the paper article after article about men and women coming home from overseas, and he just hopes that she’s one of them.

He really doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he shows up on her mother’s doorstep and she’s not there.

The train feels like it’s going slow as molasses. He sits among men and women in uniform, and he feels out of place. He fidgets. He eavesdrops on conversations about the war and about friends they used to know and what happened to them.

His palms start to itch.

When he arrives at Union Station, he only second guesses himself for a few moments before he seeks a taxi. The ride to the suburbs is nice, and he enjoys watching the trees change color the farther they get from the city. It seems to drag on and yet be over in a flash. He pays the driver, and gets out in front of a large house on a beautiful tree-lined street.

Bill’s hands are sweating. He hears chatter inside the large house, the windows open to let in the autumn breeze, and one voice in particular makes him stop in his tracks and shut his eyes briefly, trying to gather himself.

He knocks, takes a few steps back.

A screen door opens and shuts.

“Oh my god.”

He finally looks up.

They sit together on the back porch of her parent’s house, mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, her free hand tucked into his. Her eyes are closed, but the small smile on her lips proves she’s still awake.

He never thought he’d be here. He never thought he’d get this.

“Bill?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m--” she sits up, takes her hand out of his. He’s surprised to see her eyes filling with tears, and his heart kicks into overdrive.

“What?”

She smiles again. “Sorry. I’m okay, I just-- I can’t really believe we’re here.” She sniffs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most.” She glances down at his long legs that are stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

He’s shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. He straightens, turning sideways to face her. “You were there for me.” He reaches for her face, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Whether you realized it or not, you were.”

“You didn’t even get a single one of my letters the whole time you were in the hospital--”

Ever since she opened the front door and ran into his arms, he’s felt more at ease than he ever did in Indiana. Despite his mother’s best efforts, he felt unsettled, and this was the final piece he was missing. Even if he had showed up and she apologized and told him it was just a fling, just a wartime romance never destined to go anywhere, at least he would have known.

But this -- this has the potential to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice soft but firm. “The thought of you kept me going. It kept me alive, as far as I’m concerned.”

Her face is a picture. Those doe eyes, a little drier now, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for her. Doesn’t she know that he thinks that about her, too? He realizes with startling clarity that it’s very possible she has no clue.

“I’m in this,” he gestures between them, “If you are. You owe me a dance, after all.”

She grins, laughs. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugs. “Well, maybe now I’ve got an excuse to be bad at it.”

“I’m in this too. All in.” She whispers. Their faces are so close she could tilt her head only a fraction and close the gap between them.

They linger there, in that so-close-but-not-close-enough state of almost euphoria so long that Bill starts to wonder if he didn’t die on that godforsaken airfield, and this is all something his mind has made up.

But then she finally kisses him, and it’s just as sweet as the first time, and it sends all his senses kicking into overdrive, and it just confirms it: he’s home.

A/N: If you’re craving more of their post-war reunion, a few of those lines are directly from this fic, which has a little more of that scene included.

#softspeirs the pacific fanfiction #bill hoosier smith x oc #hoosier smith x oc #bill smith x oc #the pacific fanfiction #the pacific fanfic #me: writing for hoosier in 2024? more likely than you think!!!!

29 notes · View notes

eugenesmorphine · 3 months

Note

Could you use prompt 52. “Don’t look at me like that.” And a foxhole kiss for Bill Hoosier Smith of the Pacific?

Sky Full Of Stars // Bill "Hoosier" Smith Imagine

AN: Long time since writing. I have definitely missed it. I might be a bit rusty but I hope ya'll enjoy. And I used to have a taglist, but I honestly lost track. So just comment if I should make a post for people to comment on, making a new taglist!

Word Count: 1,711

Y/N sat in the foxhole, staring up at the stars that remained in the sky above. Her mind was mostly blank at that moment. It was a rough day for all of the Marines. A lot of loss, a lot of hunger, and a lot of lost morale. It was war after all. But, Y/N couldn’t help but just stare at the sky and think of nothing. She would rather think of nothing than think about how much she was truly hating life at this moment. Hating how hungry she was. Hating how tired she was. Hating how sweaty, unclean, and hating the stretch that her nearly rotten uniform stunk of after days to months of wearing it with no opportunity to shower. So nothing was peaceful at the moment. The silence, well more like the absent sound of gunfire, bombs, or screaming, was peaceful.

The thought of nothing was quickly interrupted but a thud of boots hitting the dirt of the female’s foxhole. Blinking, snapping out of her quiet glance, her head snapped over to the sound of the thud. Quickly reaching and grabbing her rifle just out of spite.

“Hey! Easy now, L/N. It’s just me,” rang the voice. Once Y/N heard the voice, and her eyes adjusted to the Marine’s face whilst in the dark, the female Marine relaxed. It was just Mr. Bill Hoosier Smith, a close friend of hers within the company. The breath she held was now exhaled as she slowly released her tightened grip on her firearm. “See, that’s more like it,” the male spoke as he gently sat down across from her. Letting out a heavy sigh as his knees popped whilst he sat. Y/N just sat quietly in response, kind of just staring at Bill.

Bill eyed her closely. Well as well as he could in the near pitch black night. Y/N’s silence was something new that came over the female Marine. A once bubbly woman, who always had quick responses for every snarky remark, question, or sarcastic statement ever said to her. Always willing to share a cigarette with her group of friends and always willing to speak up or talk into late hours of the night. Now it was quiet, and closed off. He didn’t blame her, but was still a little surprised at the sudden change in character. Of course he, and a few others had questioned Y/N before. But was met with it being shrugged off her shoulders and no true answers. But Bill, being the man he was, wasn’t taking no for an answer this time.

“Alright, I’m sick of this,” Bill started, after about five minutes of complete silence. While he was waiting for his female counterpart to say something. Anything at all. But nothing to his wishes. Y/N just looked at him, her face not changing at all. A blank, closed off stare. It was like Bill was looking at a stranger.

“Sick of what?” She debuted. Not a change in face still. No raising eyebrows. Not even a hint of attitude. Just a straight, monotone voice. That grinded Bill’s gears. Her eyebrows knitted together. He wasn’t mad at her. Not at all. He could think of a billion reasons of why she was starting to act the way she was. For christ sakes they were in the middle of World War II! But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. And Bill Hoosier never showed himself worrying.

“Seriously? Y/N, you have single handedly sectioned yourself away from our friends and I. And you haven’t even noticed. Or maybe you have,” Bill paused in his words. Hoping Y/N would say something. But she didn’t. Her eyes shifted. They became glossy for a moment he swore he saw. But she quickly blinked and turned her head away for a moment before turning her head back over to Hoosier. This time her eyes showed more frustration, more emotion. But yet, nothing left her mouth. No explanation, not even any questions. And that grinded Bill’s gears even more. “Don’t look at me like that!” he whisper-shouted. Careful not to alert any other Marines resting in other foxholes.

Y/N’s eyes now definitely softened to the tone change. Her eyes become glossy once more. Now Bill was now frustrated, and highly confused. And that’s when Y/N’s eyes began to pour out tears. And a few stifled sobs left her lips.

To be truthful, Y/N had been slowly pulling herself away from everyone. Partially she herself noticed her actions, though partially she didn’t. More so, didn’t recognize how hard she actually was doing it. And now, all her emotions were coming up to the surface. Everything she had tried so hard to push down and away, was spilling over like a boiling pot.

“I'm sorry,” was all that spilled out of her lips. Bill sat shocked as he watched the female’s tears quietly slide down her mud caked cheeks. Getting onto his knees and shuffling to her side of the foxhole, he placed a caring and comforting hand to her shoulder. Y/N leaned into his touch. “I just-” she started and then she stopped. Trying to contain her heavy emotions and get her thoughts in order before she tried to speak.

In her world, in her mind, she believed if she had closed herself off from anyone, it would protect her own well being. Y/N had seen so much loss in her service on the Japanese islands, so many men dying in such horrific ways. Watching friends be shot, blown up, or both. Seeing so much death, destruction, and sadness. She couldn't bear the sight, or even the idea, of her closest friends falling victim to this war. Especially Bill Hoosier Smith. Who she thought more than just a close friend, a fondness of feelings had grown whilst their time spent together. Foxholes shared, ducking for cover with each other, and one night in Australia that the pair shared that stayed between them and only them. Never to be spoken about, but the thought remained in both their minds ever since. But, Y/N thought that if she just separated herself from the group, especially from Bill; that if anything was to happen to any one of them, it wouldn’t cloud her mind. That it wouldn’t take over her wellbeing so bad that she couldn’t bear to see the end of war. That plan seemed great in the beginning. Until she realized that the isolation made her feel a billion times worse. It made her feel alone and scared. But she thought she was already far too far into her plan already to back out of it now.

“Look, you know I’m not one for all that emotional shit,” Bill paused. Turning his head to the side momentarily to try to process his words properly. Not only was he not good with anything with emotions; he also wasn’t the best with women either. “Just talk to me about it, or don’t- well do whatever you want to do. But stop kicking us, especially me, to the side. We miss you damn it,” Bill took another pause. Y/N finally looked up at him, stifling her quiet cries for just a moment. Taking a deep breath and locking eyes with the female Marine. “I fucking miss you, god damn it.”

It didn’t take Y/N a second thought before she grasped the sides of her dear friend’s face and planted her lips onto his. Bill’s eyes widened, but he quickly grabbed the side of her face as well. Gently squeezing it, as her messy hair stuck between his hands.

Pulling away quickly Y/N looked at him, a few more tears rolling down her face. “I haven’t stopped missing you since that night we were in Australia,” she finally spilled. Her breathing became a bit more labored, and Bill just sat there staring at her. Still in a slight feeling of shock. “We brushed it off like it was nothing! And ever since then, and ever since things really started getting bad here. With all this death and dying happening all around us,” Y/N stopped to take a breath. Wiping a few stray tears that leaked from her eyes. “The thought of you had been clouding my judgment, making me make mistakes on the field. Which isn’t your fault, but I thought if I had just distanced myself and not thought of anything to do with you; my mind would clear up,” Glancing down at her hands and sucking in her bottom lip. “But it didn’t. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed you. And it was distracting me even more,” Placing her face in her hands and shaking her head. “God this is so embarrassing,” she muttered through her hands.

Bill was now a little shocked by the confession. Of course, he felt the same way. He was just some idiot Marine that didn’t know how to express his feelings in the slightest way. He thought if he just didn’t talk about it, the nagging thought would just go away. But clearly, that didn’t work for either of them. So now here they were, both sitting in silence. Bill just sat trying to figure out what he should say next.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bill started, Y/N peaked up through her hands. Scratching the back of his head for a moment, with a soft sigh. “All I’ve thought about for the past few months has been how bad I wished we were back in Australia,” taking another deep breath. Pausing just for a second longer. “And I wished it was just you and me back home in Indiana. Out of all this mess,” he stated. Scooting himself to sit besides her. Resting his elbows on his knees and staring up at the black sky full of stars.

Y/N sat up and rested her head on his shoulder. “We can do that. After all this,” she whispered. Now also looking up at the stars. Bill looked back down at the woman and a small smile formed on his lips.

“Alright then, Corporal L/N. You got yourself a deal.”

#band of brothers #hbo war #hbo #hbo series #band of brothers imagine #the pacific #the pacific imagine #imagines #imagine #bill hoosier smith #bill hoosier smith imagines #x reader #hbo war x reader

22 notes · View notes

mads-nixon · 7 months

Text

Hoosier Dating an Extrovert Headcannons

Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Extrovert!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Jacob Pitts...so you're welcome :) this is about the fictional portrayal of H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

You and Bill get along from the beginning, and y'all are the epitome of the grump x sunshine trope!!

Sarcasm and your endless optimism go perfectly together, even if no one fully comprehends it.

Where Bill sits and observes most of the time, you never seem to tire from the excitement, telling him about every second of your day with a bright smile on your face.

He won't admit it, but he finds it incredibly adorable.

When things slow down at night and you're sitting in your foxhole, you two often find yourselves talking about everything from back home to the future.

In the quiet when it's just the two of you, Bill seems to stray away from his usual snarky and blunt attitude for one that's much softer. If Leckie or Runner ever got wind of it, he knows he'll never hear the end of it.

You slowly pick up on some of his traits, your own sarcastic and witty side becoming more prominent. Of course, Bill notices and he feels a sense of pride knowing that he's influenced you...and he teases you relentlessly.

"Now, who'd you get that fine sense of humor from?" he asks you, a smirk adorning his lips.

You just roll your eyes. "Definitely not you, honey. You're not as funny as you think."

The teasing NEVER ends, and the H company guys all love the two of you, so they go along with it.

When the terrible shelling on Guadalcanal started, you happened to be on your way back from the bathroom, so you sprinted towards the first hole you saw.

The men inside were calling for you, and right as you were about to slide in, it was hit with a shell, throwing you onto your back. Seeing the horrific remains of the men inside tore at your insides, and you froze. A second later, you snapped out of it and ran to the next hole over, which happened to be your hole with the boys.

You slide into the hole, and someone grabs you and holds you to their chest. It doesn't take long for you to realize it's Bill. He's got you in one arm and a whimpering dog in the other.

He was going insane not knowing where you were, and having you in his arms calms his nerves slightly despite the bombardment happening around you.

The next morning, he holds your shaking form (wrapped in his *signature* blanket) tightly as you sit outside your hole, staring numbly at the ground ahead of you. From then on, you seem to be more reserved...more quiet, and it worries him and the guys to death.

Whenever things got rough, they (especially bill) always knew you to be the one happy thing in their life (not that you didn't make them happy still ofc, but seeing you so shaken hurt them).

He does anything and everything to make you smile, laugh, and seem like your old self again. You never tell him exactly what happened, but it doesn't take much for him to imagine something along those lines.

You know those little habits that you picked up from Bill? Well, he picked some up from you, too, and he finds himself having a more energetic and extroverted attitude while he's trying to be there for you, cheering you up to the best of his ability.

Slowly, with Bill and the other guy's help, things get better, and you become more like yourself again. Although he's overjoyed that you're back to your bubbly and extroverted self, he's soooo relieved that he doesn't have to pick up the slack on that front...because it is exhausting for him to act like that. He'll leave that to you!

Tag List: @footprintsinthesxnd

#hbo war #the pacific imagine #the pacific imagines #the pacific #the pacific x reader #bill hoosier smith imagines #bill hoosier smith x reader #bill smith #bill hoosier smith #the pacific headcannons #bill smith headcannons #hoosier smith headcannon #hoosier headcannon

34 notes · View notes

compendiumhistoria · 4 months

Text

HI Y'ALL you ready for the Absolute Brainrot I got outta nowhere for NPCs in a campaign I haven't written? no? too bad, here they are anyways. Art (left, shaved down horns) & Dusk (right, broken horn), the Telodomic Tiefling Two. they're sibwings with a few things wrong with them in different ways. they're generally friendly though!

I'll put More Official Sounding Info under the cut!

Dusk and Art are a rare sort, given that tieflings born and raised in the country of Telodom are few and far between amidst the land's cold climate and general distrust of both divine and demonic influences. The siblings now live in Estellus, reluctant refugees displaced thanks to a civil war between Telodom's ruler and its people. They both more or less work to clear their debt to the "old friends" who helped their escape southward, with Art running a shop to sell their myriad creations and Dusk traveling on various odd-jobs when he isn't contributing to his sibling's stock.

Once specialized in medicine-making and the effects of chemicals on the body, Dusk's studies have veered away from the living and onto the dead and the space between the soul and the physical, the shift from magic to mortal, turning the man of science into a self-taught wizard of necromany. Though why the change in field and to what end, Dusk is too cagey a fellow to give a straight answer. But he is happy to have left behind his fraught and frozen homeland and continue practicing both his physical and magical skills… even when his constant running and lack of rest puts enough strain on his fickle body to warrant the cane he carries around.

Art does not have their older brother's stomach for such visceral things, sometimes literally getting nauseous over it. Sympathetic and anxious, Art prefers craftsman trades to keep their hands and mind busy. Their shop sells many an enchanted accessory and even some paintings, but Art themself has also been known to write, embroider, often taking brief apprenticeships with other makers. Most everything they wear is handmade or otherwise customized with this varied interest in creative arts, and while Art considers it something of a dream come true to have their new life and run their shop, they worry deeply about the fate of the people they left behind.

Songs for Dusk:

Weird Science by Oingo Boingo (From my heart and from my hand, why don't people understand my intentions?)

Too Tired to Wink by Ludo (I'm sloughin' brain cells every day, smearing the globe, my lobe frontally frayed)

Bloody Nose by Jack Conte (With your tattered clothes and your bloody nose, aren't you glad to be rid of the smell? Not at all? Not at all)

One-eyed Maestro by Kevin MacLeod (royalty-free in-campaign theme song)

Songs for Art:

Scary World by Steam Powered Giraffe ('Cause I'm safe right here, we know who we are, and It's kind of scary thinking of what is out there…)

Unlikely Hero by the Hoosiers (I like everybody, but not everybody likes me! My love's not an island, it's the tip of a volcano!)

Journey of the Featherless by Cloud Cult (I say that it's worth dreamin' just for the dream of it, it's all about passion, it's all about perception)

Padanaya Blokov by Kevin MacLeod (shop's theme song!)

#Kris draws #Art the Artificer #Dusk #w: Stupor

14 notes · View notes

blood-mocha-latte · 2 months

Note

Okay hear me out. A Valentine's Day ficlet wherein everyone in H Company is out on fancy dates except ace!Chuckler, who is S T O K E D to have the apartment to himself. He's gonna Tom Cruise underwear dance yo.

bestie you absolute GENIUS by god. ace!chuckler my beloved!! loosier sort of Shoved themselves into this, which i hope is okay!

i love this too much. so much. all the much. i hope you enjoy <3

“Please don’t tell me those are what I think they are.”

Chuckler smiled, smug, and adjusted the sunglasses across the bridge of his nose. “I think I look classy.” He said, and Lucky looked at him with something that matched vague horror.

“They’re bigger than the continental US.” He said, sounding somewhat impressed. “And pink.”

“And stylish.” Runner jumped in easily, rounding their kitchen island with a cup of coffee and sitting across from Leckie. “You could be on the cover of Vogue.”

Lew grinned, and tilted his face up so the sunglasses wouldn’t fall off. “Because of my stunning good looks?”

He’d gotten the glasses for half off at the gas station that sat kitty-corner from their apartment, and it was, in short, the best three quarters and a dime he ever spent.

“I think I’m gonna wear them everywhere.” He said, and took them off only to admire them, the heart-shape of their frames, the red tint of the shades. “Paint ‘em green, go out for a night in the town.”

“Get horribly lost again.” Runner agreed, and Chuckler made a face at him.

“Okay, well, that wasn’t on me.” He said loftily, crossing his arms and setting the glasses down on the table. “Someone took the charger so my phone was dead, so I couldn’t Google-walk home—”

“—that was extenuating-fucking-circumstances, I was supposed to get a call from a publisher—” Leckie is jumping in with a protest before Lew can even finishing talking, holding up his hands defensively, and Runner started talking over him after that, a large jumble of shouting that ceased only when Leckie’s door cracked open.

Lucky nearly fell out of his chair when Hoosier shuffled out of his room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, hair sticking up in every direction. “Coffee.” He said, and Hoosier grunted, a nonverbal confirmation that sounded only slightly murderous.

“I hate you.” He said, shuffling the short distance between their bedroom and the dining room table and dropping into Leckie’s now unoccupied seat. Leckie in question was pouring a second mug of coffee, still steaming, and was quick to move and set it in front of Bill, pressing a kiss to his temple that Hoosier was too slow to bat away.

“I love you, and I’ll get you whatever you want tonight.” He promised, already turning back into the kitchen to find the creamer. Hoosier curved his hands around the mug, bringing his face down to inhale the steam.

“I want a new boyfriend.” He muttered to it, and Runner snorted.

“Bad night?” He asked, and Chuckler raised his eyebrows, pushing his glasses closer to Hoosier when the other just gave him a blank look.

“I was having trouble with my novel.” Leckie said absently, clattering around at the counter as he did something that Lew couldn’t see. “And was trying to force myself to write, which—”

“Which means that I got one and a half hours of sleep last night, and also am going to get a gun.” Hoosier said over him, face still against his mug. “To kill you, Bob, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It’s very clear. And very understandable.” Leckie said, turning back around with one of the semi-stale croissants they’d gotten at the same gas station that Chuckler had acquired his glasses at. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Hoosier said. “We’re done. Get out of my house.” Leckie hummed, setting the croissant in front of him and crossing an arm over the front of his chest, dropping his face down to his hair before kissing his forehead.

“I’ve got an awesome day planned.” He said, and Hoosier groaned, holding up a hand to fend him off. “You’re gonna love it—”

“I’m gonna be too tired to enjoy it—”

“Well,” Chuckler interrupted, pushing his sunglasses back onto his face when Hoosier showed no interest in them. “I mean. I slept great.”

Hoosier just blinked at him. “Would you like company tonight?”

“Baby—” Leckie started, holding his hands out, but Lew was already shaking his head, vehement.

“No way in hell!” He said cheerfully, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “Today for me is about me. Today for you is about you and Lucky, it’s not my fault he’s a terrible partner.”

Hoosier dropped his forehead to the table with a groan, and Leckie shot Chuckler a vaguely threatening look. Lew just shrugged, still grinning, and Runner snorted.

“I mean. I’m gonna have a great day too.” He offered, and Chuckler held his hand up in a high five.

“Hell yeah!” He said, enthused. “But you can’t stay here. I have dibs.”

Leckie made some sort of frustrated sound, still clattering around in something that seemed to be in an effort to reap forgiveness. “When can we come back?” He asked, complaining, and Hoosier snorted.

“Why do you care?” He muttered to the table. “You’re never getting laid again.”

Chuckler just shrugged. “Sleep over at Hoosier’s place.” He offered to Lucky, and Hoosier groaned over him in protest.

“He’s sleeping in the fucking street before he’s getting into my bed again.” He said, and Leckie sighed.

So. Very par for the course.

“I’ll give you seven dollars if we can come back by nine.” Lucky offered, and Lew grinned, delighted.

“Nope! This is the first time I get to be by myself in nine months, by darling friends, and I don’t want to see any of your faces for the next twenty-four hours. You have thirty minutes to get out of here.”

He finished off his own coffee, and Hoosier pushed his face off of the table to squint at him, under eyes bruised purple. Leckie moved around him again, attempting to kiss his cheek, and Hoosier steered him away with an open palm to the face.

“I like your glasses.” He told Chuckler.

“Thanks.” Lew said, cheerful. “I like your croissant.”

“Thanks. You can have it, if you want. You can have the man who made it, too.”

“Babe—”

Chuckler snorted, wrinkling his nose. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

His plan for the night, as written out:

Wrap all of Leckie’s shoes in cellophane.

Last month, Lew had woken up at four in the morning with his singularly obtained Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic book shrink wrapped, and Leckie sitting at their kitchen table, sipping at coffee, calmly writing out what seemed to be a letter.

Finally, he had time to seek his revenge.

(He had also conveniently forgotten that the reason Leckie’d wrapped his comic book at all was because Chuckler had replaced all of Hoosier’s keys with plastic baby rings.)

Do his laundry. In peace.

Last time, Runner had gotten cheetos in the dryer. Lew wasn’t even sure how he managed that, but never again. Never again.

Text Hoosier to make sure he hasn’t actually killed Lucky.

“Hi.”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine. It’s all fine. I’m still mad, though, so. Uh.”

“Lucky plan something good?”

“Ugh. Yeah. It’s really sweet, the motherfucker. I’m never gonna forgive him for this.”

“He took you to the Observatory, didn’t he?”

“Yep. The bastard. How’s it going for you?”

“I mean. If it makes you feel better, he has a nice present at home, now.”

“Hm. Make him suffer for me.”

“Okay! But don’t make him too upset. This is, like, a big night for him.”

“...”

“Hello?”

“Chuckler. You have to tell me if he’s going to propose. Legally. It’s — you can get arrested if you don’t.”

“Hm. I don’t think I can. But he’s not gonna propose—”

“I — I mean, we’ve talked about this, and I’d say yes, but if he proposes on fucking Valentines day—”

“He’s not gonna propose! I promise. Scouts honor! Roommates honor!”

“That is the most cliche shit I’ve ever heard—”

“All I did was tell you to be nice to him! That doesn’t mean he’s going to ask you to marry him—”

“Oh, holy fuck, I knew that he was being weirdly nice—”

Make a cake.

Although whatever drama Hoosier and Leckie were going through was interesting enough, he also had a recipe that he wanted to try and last time he’d tried to bake anything of any sort, Hoosier had poured jalapeno sauce into it.

Which, come to think of it, may have been because Chuckler popped all of the keys out of Leckie’s laptop.

Listen to Simon and Garfunkel.

Runner hated Simon and Garfunkel, and because Chuckler was to be a good person, he didn’t blast it through the house when he was home.

But he wasn’t home, was he!

Lew loved Valentine's Day.

Call Hoosier one more time. Just to be extra certain Leckie isn’t dead.

“Oh, good, you picked up! Please tell me you haven’t got engaged—”

“What? Oh, no. Bob has been, uh. Well. Bob’s been arrested, so—”

“Bob’s been what—”

“But it’s not my fault, I feel I should make that incredibly clear—”

“Uh-huh. Okay, well, I’m not coming and getting you. Call Runner.”

“No, no—”

“It’s my day, Hoosier! You know this! It’s my day, I’m not dragging my ass down to the station—”

“My boyfriend’s in jail, Lew, I think that’s extenuating circumstances—”

“Ope, the Sound of Silence just came on, so I’m gonna obey its wise title and hang up. Call Runner!”

“I — uh. Fine. It’s your day.”

“It really is! Good luck. Don’t say anything without a lawyer.”

Yeah. Lew loved Valentine’s Day.

#rie writes #peace and love and ace chuckler on planet earth <3 #thank you for the prompt i ADORED it #the pacific #chuckler juergens #loosier #hbo war

13 notes · View notes

egipci · 10 months

Text

Miles Ahead

(for @wincestwednesdays)

What I was trying to tell you — we were in the car heading out of Gary, going a hundred miles an hour, a hundred twenty. It was Memorial Day. We drove with the windows down and you had one hand on the wheel and you were talking about fucking hoosiers and goddamn fourth of July rehearsal because you could hear fireworks if you listened close enough, and you started talking crazy about Mexico, about going down there for fourth of July. You said, we should go down there for fourth of July. You said, we should go down to Tijuana. You called it TJ. I laughed at you. I said, did you just call it TJ? No one calls it TJ. You said, everyone calls it TJ. I said, who’s everyone? You don’t know anyone who’s been to Mexico. Name everyone. You said, Dad, Dad’s been to Mexico, he calls it TJ. You were talking like you do and waving your hand but you had one eye always on the road, trying so hard to keep up with him. You kept switching lanes and gunning it whenever he went out of sight so we wouldn’t lose him. He was driving so fast like always and you were scared of losing him. You said, yeah man we’ll go down to TJ. I said, you wanna go down to Mexico for America’s birthday. You said, sure thing, gonna put on my little speedo and have a pina colada, you know with a little umbrella. I said, oh man, you at the beach. I’d like to see that. You said, what happens in TJ, kid. I said, we don’t have passports. You said, we don’t need passports, we just drive right across, no one cares. I said, they care down there I’m pretty sure. You said, it’s all Americans down there. I said, whatever you say, we go that far south you’ll catch on fire. You said, I swear to god I’ll turn the car around right now, let’s go right now. I rolled my eyes at you. You shoved me and you said, fuck you don’t roll your eyes at me. Besides we can get passports. I said, you mean make them at Kinko's. You said, damn right we’ll make them at Kinko's. Then you pulled up to the shoulder because Dad had slowed down and we got out of the car and you two did your low and serious talking. He said we’re splitting up. You hung your head down. He touched your neck then he touched your cheek. You watched him turn around and walk away and get in the car and drive. You saw me looking and you cuffed me across the back of the head just to make something happen. I said, how does Mexico sound now? And you said, nah it’s just Memorial Day and you walked back to the car and stopped and looked down at your keys in your hand like it was the first time you ever saw them. Then you threw them at me. You smiled when I caught them. You said, I’m tired, your turn. You let me drive. I had no license, but you let me drive and we promised not to tell Dad. We didn’t even say it out loud, no words, we just both agreed. When we got in the car you leaned back and you crossed your arms over your chest and closed your eyes and pretended to fall asleep so I would know you trusted me. I knew you were watching me. I could feel you smiling. Thank god it was dark. I said, TJ, last call. You laughed. I didn’t know where we were going. I just drove. I was so scared because you were watching me and it was your car and if I fucked up I could end us or best case scenario I’d wreck it and I wouldn’t know how to fix it. I kept both hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road and all the miles ahead. You were pretending to sleep and every once in a while a car would pass by and the headlights would fill up the inside of the car like midday and then I would look at you out the corner of my eye. All the way I thought about Mexico and you there sunburnt. I was so scared then I couldn’t speak but what I wanted to say is I’ll take you anywhere.

#hello yes this is indeed a repost for the simple reason that I don’t like the other version of this that’s getting reblogged [shrugs]#and which is now invisible and unrebloggable #if she comes on your dash ignore her #Anyway 1) title is from the Miles Davis album #2) sorry for the j/d #and 3) happy #wincest wednesday #and many more to those who celebrate etc etc #my fic

44 notes · View notes

mellorphic · 11 months

Note

do you have any songs that remind you of dsmp characters? if so, please gimme

(also what is your favorite song/band/artist in general)

Tysm for the ask! I could literally talk about this for hours on end.

Favourite song/band/artist changes all the goddamn time but right now Scum by Lovejoy

In terms of characters you are opening a rabbit hole for me, buckle in.

Tommy

What Can I Do if The Fire Goes Out? By Gang Of Youths fits his exile arc, his relationship with Dream at the time as well as grieving Wilbur - “Do I throw my hopes in the fire? Do I throw my clothes in the fire? Do those things grow in the fire, or burn just to keep me compliant?”

Worried About Ray by The Hoosiers gives Pogtopia!Tommy vibes, with the way he wanted to protect L’Manberg and protect Wilbur - “the truth be told, the truth be told, I’m worried about the future holds, the future holds. I’m so tired of being worried about Ray.”

A lot of AURORA songs give me Tommy vibes but especially It Happened Quiet which reminds me of his third death. She uses a lot of nature related metaphors in her songs which I think fit his character - “Eyes blue and hollow as it rains against their will”

Good Grief by Bastille is such a c!tommy song about grief and how he processes people dying/leaving. I can’t emphasise this enough - “You might have to excuse me, I’ve lost control of all of my senses. You might have to excuse me, I’ve lost control of all of my words.”

Wilbur

Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears In Trees, specifically for the election era but probably fits most of his L’Manberg arc - “Cause all my friends are dying, some faster than the others. I’m trying to distract myself from the fears that I’ve discovered.”

Youth by Daughter reminds me of the legacy that Wilbur left behind once he died on Nov 16th after blowing up L’Manberg. It’s such a sympathetic song, too - “Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked this home, it was a flood that wrecked this home, and you caused it”

Saint Bernard by Lincoln fits Revivedbur so so much, but specifically in Hitting On 16, his relationships with Quackity, Tommy, and how he felt about the way people treated Dream (read: how he felt they treated him) at this time - “I said ‘make me love myself so that I might love you’, don’t make me a liar, cause I swear to god, when I said it I thought it was true.”

So many Lucy Spraggan songs?? It’s so hard to pick just one but I’m gonna go with Roots for reflecting on the early days of the L’Manberg era - “I bought a big house in the country, I live there now, does nothing for me. Bought a fast car, white and sporty, when I look back I was pretty poorly.”

Niki

Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives as a puffychu song during Niki’s rocket duo arc? Pain. Pain and suffering - “Abandon all your stupid dreams about the girl I could’ve been, my dear. Cuz in the night I know you burn with feelings I cannot return, my dear. Oh, my dear.”

The Calling by The Amazing Devil is such a Doomsday Niki song about her looking back on her life and who she used to be - “I look into the water and see a face I don’t understand. We’re both unwanted daughters, but there’s more than water in these autumn hands.”

Moonsickness by Penelope Scott is literally Manberg Niki and how she was trying so hard to fight for her home but it was futile - “And in your blood you know what’s right, and in your bones you know what’s wrong, and in your throat you know that you’re lying to kids and you know nobody belongs in this hell”

ilomilo by Billie Eilish about post-nov-16th rain duo from Niki’s pov - “I tried not to upset you, let you rescue me the day I met you, I just wanted to protect you, but now I’ll never get to.”

I also think that The Call by Regina Spektor fits all of the L’Manbergians and what they value and their experiences during and after that arc - “And then that word grew louder and louder, till it was a battle cry. I’ll come back, when you call me. No need to say goodbye.”

I’ve been saying since 2021 that The Horror and The Wild by The Amazing Devil is literally Phil and Wilbur talking in the button room, with Phil being the part of Madeline Hyland and Wilbur being Joey Batey - “Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring, I promise you, they’ll sing of every time you pass your fingers through my hair and call me child - witness me, old man, I am the wild.”

If you’d like me to assign songs to specific duos, arcs or characters I can 100% do that! Or if you want a more in depth analysis of any of these songs, I can do that to (this is open for anyone to ask me about, not just Mayrine!)

#tommyinnit #c!tommy #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #nihachu #c!niki #dream smp #dsmp #niki nihachu #orphic talks #song analysis #dsmp analysis #L’Manberg #Pogtopia

41 notes · View notes

i-m-a-leaf-on-the-wind · 1 year

Note

hey! do you have any recommendations of milex fics that are during the taotu era?

Sorry love, I’m late ! My life is bit complicated these weeks

Elorianna (@elorianna) :

In My Wildest Dreams = Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. [Words:9582] It's a few days before their first ever Shadow Puppets festival gig, and Miles and Alex are having a quiet night in. Chilling on his bed while Miles plays the guitar, Alex finds himself in a reflective mood, and he begins to quietly ponder the nature of their friendship and the fondness of his feelings for Miles. But their peaceful companionship is about to be interrupted, and their evening soon takes a turn for the strange after the arrival of two very unexpected guests...

Gasdancer (@gasdancer) :

Young Volcanoes => - (Part 1) Joie de Vivre = Rating: Explicit. [Words:39020] "Two young men decamp to rural France to make an album together. It ~is like love." - (Part 2) The Boy with the Thorn in His Side = Rating: Explicit. [Words:32226] "In a world where music-making frequently seems to resemble just another career choice, theirs is an old-fashioned affection, one based on humour, shared tastes and the fact they can both knock out dozens of tunes in the time it takes most bands to take a toilet break. Watching them finish each other's sentences, agonize over their answers to questions of how well they know each other and embrace when it's time to leave... well, you'd need a heart made of Hoosiers CDs not to find it incredibly sickly sweet."

GloriousBlackout (@glorious-blackout) :

Hold Each Other Close the Whole Night Through = Rating : General Audiences. [Words:6534]

With the end of their idyllic French adventure fast approaching, Miles and Alex take a moment to reminisce over classic records, while Miles muses on the predicament of falling deeply in love with one's best friend.

Set during the recording of 'The Age of the Understatement'.

AventuriereSideral :

Sleeping = Rating: General Audiences. [Words:1659] The French countryside gets really warm in summer, making music is really tiring, and it's absolutely possible to sing in your sleep.

Dontcareajot :

Cigarette Kiss = Rating: Explicit. [Words:26252] It all starts in Paris. Miles starts to notice some things about his supposedly platonic friend Alex- some things he probably shouldn't be noticing, especially since Alex has Alexa waiting on him back home. Unfortunately Miles has never been very good at impulse control, Alex doesn't do anything to deter him, and their relationship quickly becomes less than platonic, leaving them to figure out what exactly they mean to each other, and what exactly will happen when it's time to leave Paris. [Please can you help me to add more fics in this list 😉]

#alex turner #miles kane #milex #milex fanfic #milex authors are the best #thanks you so so much

48 notes · View notes

turn0nthemoon · 1 year

Text

Thanks for the lemonade

Note: I used the idea of meeting Hoosier and Chuckler for the first time as a basis for easing myself into fanfiction writing. It’s meant as an exercise so it’s pretty tame, but read along if you like. :)

Wordcount: 1262

Warning: smoking??

Pairing: Hoosier x Reader

Summary: You’re pouring lemonade at the nurses stand when two marines take your mind off of gloomy thinking with some cheerful chatting.

The sun was burning your cheeks as you poured cups of fresh lemonade for the row of tired marines lining up at the nurses’ stand. Some were watching you with expressions of confusion, some disbelief, some amusement and some were looking right through you, making you feel as hollow as the gaze with which they beheld you.

You poured as much care and gentleness as possible into every cup while you passed them into dirty hands. Every once in a while you heard croaky voices mutter “thanks or “ma’am” in your general direction, but most marines took the cups silently. You had seen and heard the horrible aftermath of battle in your time as a military nurse, but this was your first time looking into the faces of those still stuck in the nightmare from which some never wake. Feet dragging with the heaviness of knowing that each step taken is a step closer to their doom.

You thought of all the wounds of war you had healed and how only few of them would be as crippling as the one these men already carried. A wound that in the hospitals had been masked to you by the relief of escape.

“Too lovely a day to be frownin’ on isn’t it ma’am?”

The words interrupting your heavy thoughts were spoken by a tall dark-haired man that had just taken a cup of lemonade from your hand. He looked rather too battered to be speaking of lovely days you thought, but the friendly smile that shone on his grimy face suspended your disbelief for a moment.

“oh, I don’t know” you blinked at him, not wanting to disagree and started to pour another cup.

“Not exactly a sight for sore eyes eh?” – a slightly shorter man next to first one joked as you passed him some lemonade. You let an unsure smile graze your face as you studied them both for a hint of whether the comment was an invite for pity or for fun. Despite the appearance of it, you guessed that the second man to speak had fair hair underneath all that dust and muck.

He saw you hesitate and continued to speak;

“I clean up nice believe it or not, but unfortunately for my friend here he always looks sick as a dawg” he said and slapped the tall guy on the shoulder. That got a laugh out of you and you watched the taller guy scoff and roll his eyes, looking amused.

“Lotta ladies beg to differ” he replied smugly; “Ain’t that right Hoosier?”

“Ain’t right at all” the shorter guy retorted and caught your eye as you laughed at their banter.

Your laugh was about the sweetest thing the men had heard in a long time. Especially the one called Hoosier thought so and it made him straighten up a bit. In fact your laugh was just as sweet as you looked - cheeks red from the sun and loose strands of hair tucked behind your ears… Hoosier kept his appreciation to himself and hoped that you might extend the interaction with an answer. You noticed the anticipation.

“Well…” you smiled, deciding to join in on his joke, “the lemonade was supposed to liven you up a bit, but if your friend’s looking no better by tomorrow I’ll get you your money back.” Hoosier let out a chuckle at your reply. Not a full toothy grin but an upwards tug of the corner of his lips that despite its modesty reached his eyes. Bright eyes that bored into yours with what you thought was approval and suddenly hoped was a little more than that.

“Oi!” The taller man exclaimed with a grin as you shifted your eyes to him, “the friend has a name! I’m Chuckler” he said and stretched out a dirty hand towards you, taking no notice of your joke being on his expense.

“Chuckler?” You asked and shook his hand when an officer yelled in your direction.

“You two! Quit bothering the nurse! You’re holding up the line!” Chuckler let go of your hand and eyed the officer with blatant annoyance.

“Are we bothering you Ma’m?” he asked politely.

“Not at all…” You smiled at them. “But I don’t know if the same can be said for him” you looked discretely in the direction of the officer that had yelled, and was now staring intensely at the marines in front of you.

“Guess we better get movin… Thanks for the lemonade” Hoosier said and they both quickly emptied the small cups and put them down. Chuckler started moving away to neutralise the dissatisfaction of the glaring officer. Hoosier made to follow but then leaned back and offered you a handshake.

“‘Don’t believe I gotcher name, miss?” He said. The hand open in front of you was as dirty as the one his friend had offered, with scraped knuckles and dust that had settled in to darken every fine line. You were happy to take it.

“Y/L/N” you told him. You felt a tingle up your spine as his fingers closed around your small soft hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Y/N Y/L/N” you elaborated. His head was angled so his brow shielded his eyes from the sharp sun but you thought they glimmered still.

“Pleasure to meet ya, miss Y/L/N” he said “I’m-”

“Hoosier?” You interrupted and he nodded with an amused expression. You felt the name bear a weight on your tongue as if you had spoken a big important word whose meaning you had yet to discover.

“That’s right” he said still holding your hand. He let go with a slight jolt when Chuckler grabbed onto his shoulders with a tug.

“Officer’s getting real red in the face over there buddy” he said and Hoosier looked over nonchalantly. The officers jaw was tightly clenched, apparently debating what effect repeating himself would have.

“Looks like yer right” Hoosier commented and turned back to you.

“‘Scuse us Ma’am” he said and they left you to your task. You absentmindedly continued the repetitive motion of pouring and handing over cups of lemonade as you followed the two marines with your eyes.

In the tired oncoming of battle-worn men, it lifted your spirit to see good humor among some of them. Chuckler and Hoosier had made their way to a small group of marines who you guessed might be part of their company. Some of them were laughing and a few of them looking extremely tired, but all content in each others presence as they awaited orders on where to move.

Although he had his back turned you could see Hoosier pull a cigarette from his pocket and swiftly pull out a lighter after it. He let the cigarette hang loose from this lips as he lighted it with ease. You thought he moved with a sort of careless elegance, that despite the pitiful state of his uniform and dirty skin made him look quite charming. Then he flicked the lighter closed and as he placed it back in his pocket he swung his head around and looked at you. Lightening went through you as his blue eyes met yours – caught already staring. You thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips before you turned your eyes down. You could feel your cheeks flush from something other than the sun.

Though intently focusing on keeping your eyes on what your hands were doing, you eventually gave in to the temptation to steal another glance at Hoosier, but when you looked up, him and his companions had gone.

#the pacific #the pacific imagine #fanfic #bill hoosier smith #hoosier #hoosier x reader #hbo war #chuckler juergens #the pacific fanfic #imagine

56 notes · View notes

forgeline · 1 year

Photo

It helps to have the right tools for the job. Congrats to Tank for his podium finish, at the 2023 UAE Time Attack, in his 2016 Dodge Viper ACR Extreme rolling on 315/30ZR18 & 345/30ZR19 Hoosier R7 tires and 18x12/19x13 Forgeline one piece forged monoblock GTD1-Viper wheels finished in Satin Gunmetal! See more at: https://forgeline.com/customer-gallery/tank

#forgeline #forgelinewheels #forgedwheels #customwheels #forgedmonoblock #GTD1 #GTD1Viper #6Lug #openlug #forgelinegtd1 #forgelinegtd1viper #notjustanotherprettywheel #doyourhomework #madeinUSA #dodge #viper #acr #DodgeViperACR #DodgeViperACRExtreme

34 notes · View notes

iluvchanniesposts · 2 years

Text

skz when you fall asleep

pairings - skz x reader

genre - fluff, fanfiction

warnings - mentions of food.

MAKNAE LINE

han -

it’s an often occurrence he brings you along to the 3racha dorm. typically, you hang around with hyunjin since the other three are always busy with songs. hyunjin wasn’t there, it got late and you sat on the leather sofa to get some rest. you honestly didn’t mind though, han would always check if you’re okay every now and then. their new song was taking so long, you grew tired and decided to curl up on the sofa, drifting off into a light sleep. “you okay baby?” han says before even turning around to check. he swivels his chair around and sees you in a deep slumber, smiling to himself and placing some sound cancelling headphones on you since they’re all so loud.

felix -

“wanna come to the practice room with me and minho?” he asked as you laid slumped on the sofa. “hmm, okay.” with a yawn and a big stretch, you pulled yourself up and got ready. felix and minho always practice their new dances late at night when everyone else is sleeping, that way they can’t get distracted. unlike felix, you sleep at normal times, hence why you’re so tired now. the beat of the music kept you awake, but it started to annoy you too; you laid down on the sofa and put your earphones in to watch netflix. “she’s out for the count.” minho pointed at your reflection in the huge mirror. felix couldn’t stop looking at you whilst dancing with a big smile on his face.

seungmin -

it’s no joke how backed up you were with college work and work in general. seungmin was amazing with you every time, calming you down and sometimes even helping you with the work. he was laying in bed behind you just scrolling on his phone as you sat at the desk. “why don’t you just come to bed now?” he spoke soothingly as he glanced away from his phone. your head was resting on the table and you was absolutely gone. “wake up sleepy head.” he gently shook your shoulders before carrying you to bed.

jeongin -

“let’s go then.” jeongin held his hand out for you as you two left to go to the cinema. it’s like a tradition, every time a new film comes out, you both have to go and see it. common interests are shared between the two of you which only makes you closer. the film was more boring than you expected, and you had already eaten all of your snacks so you were bored. the recliner seats weren’t helping, your feet up and resting made you drowsy and the warm feeling of the cinema engulfed you. “oh my god! did you see th-oh.” jeongin got excited at one part of the film, nudging your shoulder to share the excitement. he noticed you sleeping peacefully, draping his hoosier over your arms and legs.

#stray kids #bang chan #skz x reader #lee minho #skz #stray kids minho #hwang hyunjin #skz soft hours #skz soft thoughts #skz imagines #skz seungmin #seungmin #jeongin #lee felix #han jisung

190 notes · View notes

ginzburgjake · 2 years

Text

HOOOO BOY LETS GO—

so for the last month I’ve been severely plagued by the idea of a space pirate/android au, and here’s what I’ve managed to come up with, which is a rant accompanied by sketches :)

The setting is vaguely futuristic. “The Revenge”, a custom ship with solar sails, is captained by a wannabe space pirate Stede Bonnet fleeting from his past. His crew consists of both humans and androids, who are free to fall in love without prejudice and harassment. Lucius (lu-spr199s) is a construction designer robot who instead chose drawing dicks and polyamory as his hobbies (both not programmed by his initial settings). Pete is just some guy engineer who conveniently likes the ideas of 1) polyamory and 2) having his dick drawn.

Jim (cuz I’m tired of the alien/robot/eldritch god enby sterotype) is a human. They are a street kid, good with tech and violence, very agile and competitive. Frenchie (fr3nn4) is a tad glitchy. He stutters, stumbles over words, makes repetitive motions and sometimes gets distracted/spaces out. Yes I made him into an autistic android. No I will not take criticisms. Others that I might sketch later are as such: Roach, Oluwande, The Swede are androids. Ivan, Fang, Wee John are humans. No one knows what the fuck Buttons is.

I imagine Stede’s ship to look something like this (not my artwork sry):

On the other hand, there is “Queen Anne”, ruled by the most wanted man this side of the galaxy, Edward Teach. His First Mate, Izzy (iz-1701), is a former battle android that was set out to be deconstructed after four decades of missions. Ed accidentally acquired him when raiding a transporting vessel, and Izzy has been in his service for ten years now. He completes logs and maintenance around the ship and also fixes himself up when needed (although it’s becoming increasingly difficult due to the age of his model — the company stopped producing details for him long ago).

And this is how I approximately see Queen Anne, inspired by the concepts of Nemo’s Nautilus:

In the wake of Stede’s crushing into their lives, Izzy struggles with overcoming his programming and breaking the three laws of Azimov: do not harm a human being, do not resist orders, protect own existence if it’s not against the first two rules. Stede, meanwhile, also has some skeletons in his closet that are bound to be discovered. And Ed is just along for the ride.

Will Izzy finally admit to having emotions? Will Ed stop perceiving him as a mere object and not a person with opinions? Will Stede help bring about the necessary changes and insights?? *whispers* remains to be seen…

Also if you want to have a grasp on what inspired this idea and what I see this au’s Izzy as, listen to The Hoosiers’ “Goodbye Mr A”. I think it captures the essence of Izzy’s internal conflict quite well. Also also, I have some plot ideas but I am seemingly unable to sit down and write a cohesive multi-chapter fic, so bear with me as I post updates to this insanity :>

57 notes · View notes

boowomp · 4 days

Note

3, 11, 12, 29 for the music asks. smile

3:A song that reminds you of summertime

haha i actually just started a sunshine-y vibes playlist :)

11:A song that you never get tired of

12:A song from your preteen years

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

absolute fucking banger

4 notes · View notes

buffalojournal · 10 months

Text

Two Poems by Jessie Lynn McMains

Secret

is I stabbed summer watched it twitch and spurt, dark, arterial crunched the husks of late cicadas esoteric as the leaves we use to cross our sacred wounds mystic is her lemonlips the fuzz soft above them charcoal smudge of shadow over her clavicle I wanna wake up in November with a sprig of verbena planted in the pocket of my leather jacket her fingers fuzzing on the stubble of my brooding clouds crisp wind rustle in the oaktrees how sweet how soft she sing to me

At the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in Mid-October

everyone’s loonier than a junebug in a Canadian goose- feathered bed. One middle-aged fella in a Van Halen t-shirt with the sleeves torn off stuffs his mouth fulla straws and whistles “Dusty Crabapple Pie.” The old-timers in the back booth play poker for packets of non-dairy creamer and Sweet n’ Low, sling stories of glory days hunting Mud Mermaids and Wild Men. There’s a drunk lady who’s 30 or 45 or maybe 67, she doesn’t need anybody but she wants somebody to love. She stumbles from table to table, asks every man and half the women if they want to go neck in the bathroom. Her hair is the color of motor oil puddled on the floor of Moore’s Auto Repair, and if she’s especially fond of ya she’ll pull her shorts down and give you a flash of her star-freckled ass— but she’ll smack ya if you try to trace the constellations.

At the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in mid-October they have a secret menu. Sure, you can get the Grand Slam Slugger or the Moons Over My Hammy, but you should ask about the house specialities. Like Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammo, where they cut the flapjacks into crosses and arrange the bacon in the shape of a gun, and the eggs are boiled hard as bullets. Or Uncle Sam’s Thanksgiving—a deep-fried turkey leg stuck through with lit sparklers. Sometimes, if the fishing was good that day, they have fillet of Mud Mermaid. Once in a blue moon you can get The Elvis Platter.

At the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in mid-October they only play one song, which is a mashup of songs by the most famous Hoosier musicians. It’s called “Hurts So Good Runnin’ With the Devil Billie Jean in Paradise City.” It would be obnoxious if you could hear it over the din of spoons and trash talk, if you weren’t so tired you’d pass out facedown in your flapjacks if you didn’t have to get back on the road to Michigan.

At the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in mid-October the night manager—who’s also the host—is the spitting ghost- twin of latter-day Elvis. Fat and bedazzled with a queasy quaalude smile. When you arrive, he greets you with a ‘hunka-hunka-burnin’ love,’ and when you leave he says: “It’s so good to see ya, darlin’. I haven’t seen ya ‘round here in years.” When you tell him you’ve never been to that Denny’s, or to Michigan City, before in your life, he says: “Of course ya have. I knew ya when you were knee-high to a soybean. We’d go down to the Town of Pines and boogie with the Wild Men. We’d go up to the state park and have hotdog-eating contests on the sand dunes. Don’t ya remember?”

At the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in mid-October you say no, you don’t remember, that wasn’t you, he must have mistaken you for someone else. “Not possible,” Elvis says. “Not possible.” And at the Denny’s in Michigan City, Indiana, at 2 a.m. in mid-October when you’re goose-tired and fulla greased hash and headed for Kalamazoo you never know. Darlin’, you just never know.

🦬 Jessie Lynn McMains

15 notes · View notes