#this has been a webgott post

[blood-mocha-latte]

hozier tweets as band of brothers part one

[ww2yaoi]

Unfortunately, I don’t have anything official to post for @webgottweek because I’ve been sick (and unprepared), but here’s a scene from my still yet untitled webgott wip for the day 6 prompt: haircut. Enjoy!

Joe makes good on his offer to cut David’s hair a few days later. They take their leave after dinner while most of the guys are downstairs playing cards. Joe drags David’s desk chair from their room into the bathroom and sets it up in front of the sink. He lays out his comb and scissors as David watches from the doorway with his arms crossed, not entirely thrilled to be parting with his mop. He only agreed because Joe seemed so adamant about doing something nice for him, and the last thing David wants is to deny him the chance to feel useful, especially now that the war is over and most of the company is stuck in limbo.

“Not too short, okay?” David says as Joe pushes him down into the chair.

“Jesus Christ, Web,” Joe says, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “All the officers trust me with their hair, why can’t you?”

“Yeah, right, like you’d give Captain Speirs a bad haircut,” David says as Joe wraps a towel around his neck. “You know I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Would you shut up? I’m not going to give you a bad haircut. I wouldn’t risk my reputation like that.” Joe takes a drag of his cigarette then ashes it in a tray on the back of the toilet. “Now lean back.”

David huffs, but does as he’s told, tipping his head back into the sink. Joe runs the lukewarm water, drenches David’s head, then lathers his hair with soap. Admittedly, it feels good. The last time David washed his hair was over a week ago, seeing as their billet has limited showers and insufficient hot water to facilitate so many men bathing daily. Usually, David just jumps in the lake and lets it wash away the sweat and grime from drills and training exercises. He’ll probably never be as dirty as he was in Normandy or Holland ever again, and he thanks God for that.

Joe massages his fingers into David’s scalp and David nearly groans. Joe must see the contentment on David’s face because he smirks.

“Feels good, right?”

“Yes,” David says flatly.

Joe runs his fingers through David’s hair from root to tip, then rinses out the soap. The act is oddly intimate, Joe hovering over him, touching his head and maneuvering it from side to side, using his hands so deftly. David is completely at his mercy. He wonders if Joe washes the hair of every man that asks him for a trim, if the officers get to see Joe like this, get to feel his fingers on their scalps. David suddenly feels jealous, possessive, but he knows the feeling makes no sense, that Joe is just doing a job for extra pocket money.

Joe uses a spare towel to ring most of the water out of David’s hair, then beckons him to stand up. He moves the chair away from the sink so he has enough room to walk around it, then gets David to sit back down again. He proceeds to comb David’s hair, gently working out the knots and parting it where the strands naturally fall.

“Not too short,” David reminds Joe as he grabs his scissors.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joe says. “I’m only taking an inch off.”

David listens to the snip, snip, snip of the scissors as Joe begins cutting his hair, starting at the back, and the sound is unexpectedly relaxing, almost enough to raise goosebumps on his arms. He watches as the trimmings fall to the floor like dark feathers, interrupting the white tiles below. Joe alternates between combing his hair, measuring the sections with his fingers, and trimming them down. He works quickly and quietly, gently ushering David’s head back and forth and to the side wherever he needs it to go.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” David asks.

“My dad was a barber,” Joe explains as he moves around the chair to face David and work on the front ends of his hair. “I used to help him at the shop on weekends, sweeping up clippings, answering the phone, cleaning windows, that sort of thing. I would watch him and learned that way until eventually he let me practice on him, with mixed results.”

Joe smiles, seemingly at the memory. David likes listening to Joe talk about his family. His voice has a softer quality to it when he does it. David probably sounds the opposite when discussing his parents or his siblings. Usually when he speaks of them, he’s pissed off about something they said or did.

“Then when I dropped out of school as a teenager I would do odd jobs, including cutting hair,” Joe continues. “I got pretty good at it.”

“Wait, you dropped out of school?” David asks.

He tries not to sound too dismayed, but his face must betray him. Joe gives him a skeptical look.

“Does that offend your very being, Harvard?”

“No,” David insists. “I’m just shocked, is all. You’re so—”

The word ‘smart’ dries up in David’s mouth. Joe is looking right at him as he measures the front pieces of his hair to ensure the length is even. His eyebrows are raised.

“I just didn’t expect it,” David says.

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of mouths to feed in my house growing up,” Joe says. “I would’ve rathered my sisters stay in school than me.” Joe makes a few more cuts around David’s head. “What does your dad do?”

“Uh, he’s a businessman,” David says.

“Yeah? That’s vague. What kind of businessman?”

“I don’t know.” David tries to stifle the resentment in his voice. “He’s the vice president of a trade company. It’s one of those jobs where half of his time is spent going out to lunch.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal,” Joe says, setting down his scissors.

“It’s a nothing kind of job,” David admits. “At least cutting hair you’re doing something. Dealing with a bunch of sales projections and ass-kissers all day doesn’t do anyone any good, unless you’re some self-satisfied prick in a suit.”

Joe snickers. “Jesus, Web. What are you, a Stalinist?”

“No, I just think there are better things to do with your life.”

Joe grabs a towel and runs it over David’s hair to finish drying it. “So what do you want to do with your life? If we ever get out of here?”

“I don’t know,” David says. “Write.”

“Yeah? Sounds nice.”

Joe tosses the towel aside and grabs a bottle of something off the back of the toilet.

“What is that?” David asks.

“Hair oil,” Joe says.

“You’ve been carting hair oil around war-torn Europe?”

Joe smirks. “Only the best for my customers.”

He unscrews the cap, dabs some into the center of his palm, sets the bottle aside, then warms the oil up in his hands. It smells strong and musky, and David is reminded of the other night, of the oil that coated his cock and Joe’s fingers and his thighs. They have yet to fuck like that again. Their days have been so filled with training and drills that they’re both too exhausted by night’s end to do anything but fall asleep in the same bed.

At the same time, David thinks there must be some other reason. It must be because when they fucked on David’s birthday, it was his first time with a man. Admitting that must have put Joe off, made him believe he’ll turn out to be some lovelorn kid who will just grow attached. Or maybe, Joe is waiting for him to make the next move. Maybe Joe thinks he’s too chickenshit to do it.

Joe stoops down to eye level and passes his hands through David’s new haircut, adjusting a strand here and a strand there. David just stares at Joe as he focuses intently on his styling, combing David’s curls back with his fingers, following the waves as they naturally form. He brushes a stray hair behind David’s ear then smiles.

“Can I see it?” David asks.

“Not yet.” Joe reaches out and runs his thumb along David’s jaw. “Do you want me to shave you? You’re looking pretty stubbly.”

“I shaved this morning,” David says.

“Come on, Web. You’re the kind of guy that gets five o’clock shadow at noon,” Joe says. “Your haircut won’t look as good if I don’t shave you.”

“I can handle you with scissors around my head but I don’t know how I feel about you wielding a razor near my throat,” David deadpans.

“Oh, please. I’m a professional.” Joe straightens. “Let me get my shaving kit.”

He opens the bathroom door and slips out into the hallway. David is tempted to look at himself in the mirror while Joe is gone but unfortunately agrees that the end product will look better if he shaves. Joe returns a minute later anyway. He unrolls his kit on the toilet lid, takes the shaving brush, soaps it up and lathers the lower half of David’s face. Joe is even closer now than he was when he was cutting David’s hair, and he’s looking at him, really looking at him.

“You’re getting tan,” Joe says as he reaches for his razor.

“I like the sun,” David replies.

“Why the hell do you live on the upper East Coast then?”

David shrugs. “Victim of circumstance.”

Joe chuckles. He wipes down the blade of the straight razor with a towel.

“I’ve always wanted to move somewhere warm,” David confesses. “Like Florida or California.”

Joe’s eyes flicker at that. The change in his expression is nearly imperceptible, but something like curiosity, or maybe even recognition, passes over his face. It fades in an instant, then Joe is hovering the razor above David’s cheekbone.

“Okay, don’t move, unless you want me to cut you.”

David sits as still as possible as Joe glides the razor over his cheeks and down the immediate curve of his neck, pulling his skin taut with his thumb, then wiping the soap and stubble off the blade with the towel. If David was at Joe’s mercy before, he’s completely vulnerable now. Their conversation gets put on hold as Joe works the razor over David’s skin. His hands are very steady, which is at least reassuring. As far as David can tell, Joe has always had steady hands, along with an obedient trigger finger. At least, obedient to himself. He’s a much better shot than David ever was, and David can understand why. He’s precise.

Joe finishes shaving David with one last swipe over the ball of his jaw, and David feels like he can breathe full and deep again. Joe goes to the sink to wet the towel, then returns to wipe the remaining soap from David’s cheeks.

“Wait,” Joe says. He removes the other towel from David’s shoulders and fixes his hair one more time. “Okay, you can look now.”

David gets up from the chair and turns to face the mirror. His reflection greets him like a stranger he once saw on the street but swears he’s met before in a dream. He recognizes himself, obviously, but he looks more youthful, yet without being young somehow. He’s molted his old skin, the skin that became mottled and toughened by the war, and settled into a new one. He has colour in his cheeks for once, which look impossibly smooth, and his hair is maybe the most well-groomed he’s ever seen it, at least since the war started. Shorter, yes, but shiny and expertly coiffed into a wave off his forehead. David stares at himself. He feels clean, fresh, but most of all, he feels meticulously cared for.

“Well, do you like it?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, Joe, I do,” David says, turning to him and smiling. “I really like it. Thank you.”

Joe returns his grin and winks. “I knew you would, you nonbeliever,” he says. “You look like Carey fucking Grant.”

David laughs. “Do I?”

“Well, not really, but your hair does.” Joe looks down at all the clippings on the floor. “I need to find a broom.”

“I think there’s a broom closet in the hallway,” David says. “I’ll go check.”

He slips out of the bathroom and walks down to the end of the hall, opening a thin door beside the stairs. Thankfully, there’s a broom and dustpan inside, propped up against the wall. David grabs them both just as footsteps echo up the stairwell. Luz appears at the top, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Ayy, Web. Looking spiffy,” he says. “What is this, the fucking Ritz?”

“Joe cut my hair,” David explains, fighting back a smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Lookin’ good, kid.” Luz claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll have to get him to do me next.”

Luz disappears into his room a few doors over and David returns to the bathroom. Joe is sitting on the toilet lid and smoking the cigarette he ashed earlier. They clean up, collecting the clippings from the floor and throwing them in the dustbin. Joe gathers his tools and his shaving kit and they head back to their room, David carrying the chair.

David returns it to his desk then flops down on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. He’s afraid to ruin his hair, but his head is too heavy to keep off the pillow. He closes his eyes and a few minutes later, he feels the mattress sink as Joe lies down beside him.

David cracks open an eye and sees that Joe is facing his direction, his head resting on the adjacent pillow, just looking at him in the lamplight.

“Inspecting your handiwork?” David asks.

Joe nods. “A little bit.”

“I feel like we should be going out somewhere,” David muses. “To a jazz club or something.”

“You like jazz clubs?”

“Not particularly. I just feel like it’s a waste. If I fall asleep I’m going to mess up my hair, and I’ll have to shave again in the morning.”

“Don’t be vain, Web,” Joe says.

“It’s not vanity. I want people to see your work.”

Joe laughs through his nose. “Well, I see it.”

“You and Luz.”

“Luz?”

“He saw me in the hallway. He said I looked spiffy.”

“And that ain’t enough for you?”

“Shut up.”

A beat passes, then Joe reaches out and strokes David’s cheek, his thumb tracing the smooth, clean-shaven line of his jaw back and forth, back and forth.

“My sisters would be obsessed with you.”

David smirks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, they would want to have your babies,” Joe says. “Except that you’re a goy.”

“Ugh.” David makes a face. “I don’t want to think about your sisters that way.”

Joe laughs and the sound cuts through the quiet. David ignores him, too disturbed by the concept. He nuzzles further into Joe’s warm palm, feeling himself being pulled towards sleep. He wants to kiss Joe, but he doubts he has the energy to start anything right now. Instead, he shuts his eyes, his body growing heavier and heavier. Joe’s hand migrates to his hair, fixing it even as he verges on unconsciousness. He brushes a loose strand from David’s forehead, smoothes his sideburns down with his fingertips. David is nearly asleep when he hears it.

“Gut aussehend,” Joe mutters. “If only they knew, Web. If only they knew.”

[terresdebrume]

More fic covers | More fic recs

I mentioned I made fic cover in a recent post and it reminded me that I'd meant to make one for SJTrinity's Band of Brothers fic: Under Thunder and Rain which is THE Webgott fic, as far as I'm concerned. I've reread it something like five time in the past three months, it's ridiculous. You should read it to.

More about my thought process under the cut, with some spoilers.

So, the entire fic is amazing, of course, but the scene that keeps standing up in my mind is the one in chapter 4, where David is about to sail away on the Tusitala and Joe tries to convince him not to. I love this scene, the vulnerability in both of them, the fact that they find each other, the fact that Joe doesn't realize that it's him David was looking for in the sea. (I know David compares himself to the Shark from the Frisco chapter, but to me his fight to catch said shark is also an excellent parallel of the way he constantly has to reel Joe in and then give him some slack before he breaks the line in his struggle.)

All this to say: I had to have the Tusitala on the cover, if only because if this boat could talk it would be able to tell the tale of how Joe and David finally stop struggling and come together for good. The rain, of course, is a reference to the title and the poem David writes Joe in chapter 5, but I still wanted a bright blue sky as the background because I feel like the vivid and peaceful color are a good contrast to the way they struggle to find their way to one another (and also it reminds me of Episode 10 of BOB, where the color is back in the world and it feels like everything should be alright, but Easy is still losing men and none of them is free of the weight of the war.

The title and author name being on pieces of paper is, of course, a nod to Joe's box full of David's letters and notes, which is also featured against the title card. I wanted watercolor of a bag of groceries for the upper left corner, to further reference that first note and the fact that we don't know how significant it is until the end of the story, because Joe keeps all his cards fucking close to the chest, even if he also betrays himself in his struggle.

(Full disclosure, on my latest rereads the bits that caught my brain were

the time David asks Joe if his future wife does have a smile to die for and Joe says "yeah, it's a great smile. Drives me nuts." While running a finger over David's lips

"He wouldn't add or take away a single thing, and the people who read that book would know how fucking lucky he had been, how he had fought against it and gotten it anyways, this symphony of a life.")

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any graphic on Canva that fit the style of the rest of the cover, so I got a pastry instead. I picked the croissant because, while not extremely sweet for a delicatessen, it's very buttery, and, well: "Copious amounts of sugar and butter clearly loosened him in a way even sex couldn't achieve, because when David came and stood beside him by the stove, Joe threw an arm around his shoulder and bumped their heads together, then playfully tried to wrestle him off his feet." which I feel is also a delightfully deep insight into Joe in general.

And last but not least: the transparent text is the last note David writes Joe in the fic, standing in as the last page of Joe's unwritten book of them.

[lewis-winters]

3 and 6 for the positivity meme?

I'll answer this backwards because my answer to no. 3 got long.

6 - what's a headcanon that you'll die on that hill?

Lewis Nixon III was a theater kid and has done drag in his life. This is forreal. The ghost of Dick Winters revealed this to me in a dream.

3 - what are some fics you go back and read again and again?

oh I love this question. in the last ask I did say I left out some creators and now is my time to redeem myself! (also another reminder that I desperately need to finish this massive fic rec post I have been steadily adding fics to since January BUT ANYWAY)

under the cut!

all of @churchkey's Winnix and ToyeMalarkey fics! god do I love them so much. I re-read A Spell of Riot once a year since it was completed.

and of course @anthrobrat's Bob, TP, and Gen Kill fics!

all of BristlingBassoon's Winnix fics - Queen for a Day inspired my "Lewis has done drag" conviction and When we met, you'd never expect this series is just. divine.

@marycontraire's Contact Tracing. of course.

make it up as we go along - Joe drives his cab, Chuck plays Call of Duty, and Babe just wants to pass Biochem; their apartment is like Grand Central at the best of times and that’s without the two possible fugitives they decided to harbor in the guest room; Luz’s life is turning into a terrible romcom about a coffee shop; Harry’s friends are bad at running a bar but they’re trying their best; somebody got punched in the face; and someday there will be a New York Times Bestseller about all of it.

Or, the interlinked soap opera-worthy drama of a group of millennials in Philadelphia, told day by day.

Lie if God is Sleeping - Gene flipped the puzzle over to read the back. “My name is Edward Heffron,” he read aloud. “I killed a man, and now I’m paying the price. 18,000 pieces. It will take approximately seven days to complete me. For experienced players only.”

What the fuck was a curse this nasty doing in a Philadelphia used bookstore?

rivers always reach the sea - my favorite webgott canon era series fic ever

Situation Normal - Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.

By Small and Small - Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

Dear Lover - A group of friends who supervise soldiers' mail are secretly very invested in one Major Winters' letters to a woman he seems to be having a secret affair with.

all or SJtrinity's Band of Brothers (webgott) fics and The Pacific (sledgefu and andyeddie) fics

Green and Gold - Merriell has dark magic and a guilty conscious. He never considered how the war would change them.

The American Sublime - "Tactician that he is, he finds the likelihood of still being loved by someone who, thanks to him, has just awakened to a wicked hangover and a face full of cold piss next to nil."

Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon billet together at a farmhouse in Holland for a rare few weeks of peace and privacy, while Dick struggles to process his promotion and his time away from Easy Company. Set during the first minutes of Episode 5, "Crossroads."

Cows. Wildflowers. Feelings. Handjobs.

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines - It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs.

In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.

Baby You Can Drive My Car - Everyone has their thing. Perco takes watches. Nix scrounges for liquor. Welsh continues his never-ending quest for anything that will please Kitty Grogan. Even Eugene robs abandoned apothecaries with only a touch of guilt, making off with as many bandages and sulfa packets as he can carry. And then there’s Speirs, sweeping behind them like a shadow and carrying away anything they leave behind that sparkles or shines.

Babe steals cars. He’s getting pretty good at it.

Come in From the Cold - In which Smokey Gordon's coffee shop 'Bastogne' saves lives by lending cutting instruments and offering a steady supply of caffeine and sugary goodness. The shenanigans are just a by-product.

Call me 'sweetheart', Please? by @mariamegale - A not-relationship in the making. (baberoe)

anthroposcene, interrupted - Three months ago, Ray Person was a Philosophy major at Harvard. Now, he's dodging Runners trying to get from St. Louis to Cambridge without a) starving, b) dying by accident or c) offing himself. However, three's company, and it comes in the form of a dog with no bark and a taciturn Marine Staff Sergeant who's last name is Not-Pitt, which has gotta count for something.

[flashnthunder]

it's me, bel ep6bastogne, on my knees BEGGING for a crumb, a sliver, of webgott small town coastal mystery. i'm imagining broadchurch-style lieb a la grizzled DI hardy with web doing his best impression of intrepid local girl sidekick DS miller!!!

@ep6bastogne ahh okay what i had written for this wip is a little bit of a different vibe but i am now lowkey obsessed with that concept of a broadcurch-y lieb omg maybe i'll see if it goes in that direction

(snippet under the cut)

The pier stinks of fish. Gulls walk the far edge of the weathered wood, digging between the joints of crab shells and fighting over fish guts. There had been a time when Joe had hated them in the way everyone hates a pest that follows them. They were there from the moment he woke in the morning, following him out to his boat and never leaving as he worked until he went home in the evening. They followed boats out into the ocean when they stayed in sight of the coast. There was no point in trying to chase them off. He had long since learned to live with the noise and flap of wings, the extra stench they brought in with them.

Leaning against the old shed built onto the pier, he smokes until until the sun sags near the horizon. Eventually, even the birds will leave to roost for the night. Water licks up the sides of the posts that hold up the pier, salt spray coating the old wood. Joe can feel it down in his bones, the dry and cracking salt that permeates everything.

The only disturbance in the squawking of the galls is a footfall at the top of the ramp leading down from the shore. A man is standing at the top, looking down at the pier. He almost looks familiar, but Joe can’t quite place his face. Joe squints up at him, the dying daylight casting flickering shadows that warp off the water. He’s wearing a sweater, too clean to have just come off a boat. No one else has come in since Joe had moored his own boat half an hour before. He hasn’t heard any cars running up on the road either. The wind skims off the water and blows through his hair.

There are times when Joe can feel the air change. Not in a way he could ever explain to anyone, but the feeling of standing on a boat out in the unbridled wind and knowing it was pulling something along behind it. It was looking at low waves and knowing the next few swells would grow. It’s never a calm before the storm on the ocean, never perfect stillness like there is standing on land. It’s a change in the rhythm that is the tell instead. For some reason, he can feel it now like he’s looking out on the gray ocean with no land in sight. Something is wrong. The wind is screaming the warning at him, and his whole body prickles with it.

The man shifts but doesn’t move. He looks just as surprised as Joe is to see another living soul out. Slowly, Joe puts his cigarette out on the side of the shed that has more stripped wood than paint left. He flicks the butt into a bucket near his feet. He doesn’t know why, but something tells him to start walking back up. It’s the same thing that tells him when there’s a storm building and when to watch for the next surging wave to break into whitewater.

As if in a mirror image, the man starts walking too. The creaking boards under his feet sound louder with two pairs of boots on them. They stop near the middle and Joe can see his face now, easier to recognize with the distance closed. He’s seen him in town, or maybe outside of the little church that stands perched within walking distance of the old lighthouse. The kind of person who hasn’t stopped to give Joe the time of day, even if he had been in the mood to talk when they’ve crossed paths before. He's still striking enough to remember, and Joe can think of even fewer reasons for him to be at the pier this late. There is still a good ten feet between them where they've stopped.

There’s blood staining the collar of his sweater. Not that much, just a few drops bleeding into an off-white fabric that draws his eye. Joe notices that before he notices his split lip, still fresh enough to be welling up with more blood. There’s a bag tightly clenched in his right hand, fingers curled so hard into the fabric that his knuckles are white.

The gulls have quieted. All he can hear now is the waves lapping against the land.

[pfctipper]

bee!! 📚🥑🦴

ty for enabling more yapping from me! <3

📚 what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

a friend's new address to send them a 'congratulations' card!

🥑 you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

this is absolutely you yna please stop Enabling me (please don't). although high statistical chance we'd get distracted halfway through burying the body and start talking about blond jock dick.

🦴 is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

every fandom i've been in has been rpf or at least historical so i usually just lean very heavily on canon and history tbh! but i was thinking about merchant & ivory and in particular maurice (1987) earlier today and i do think as a cishet woman i subconsciously draw on that a lot to interpret same-sex relationships.

also you asking this inspired me to make a post about the song that i keep associating with webgott and truly if that doesn't sum up why i will never be a 'beautiful playlist to accompany fic' girlie...

[georgieluz]

ok sorry but julian. my sweet dear julian. i will never ever ever shut the fuck up about babe got a tamagotchi i need to know everything about it and when you're finished with it i need you to bypass posting it on ao3 and inject it into my veins

hello, m'love! i'm glad you're ready to be as hyperfixated on babe and his tamagotchi as i am, but i fear you may be disappointed as this is just the title of my early 2000s battle of the bands au.

babe won't play a gig without his trusty tamagotchi attached to his belt loop, and it has somehow become the main visual representation of this fic in my mind. and bc i keep changing the actual title for this damn thing, it's still "babe got a tamagotchi!!!" as a file

but, about the fic itself!

babe plays keyboard and is the very enthusiastic second vocalist of george luz's two-month old garage band. and yes, he will absolutely bite if you try and call him a backing vocalist. especially bc skip muck will never let him forget that he's the main vocalist and frontman of the band. george disagrees and is constantly trying to explain how actually, despite him being on guitar, he's actually the frontman of the band bc he created it. then we've got malarkey on bass, who frankly does not want to be a part of this competition whatsoever, and lieb on drums, who's not particularly bothered but thinks it will probably be hilarious so has agreed to go along with it.

they've played two gigs total in their entire career. neither of which paid them. one was an impromptu performance at a friend's party and the other was in the retirement home of george's grandfather, where they were asked to cover songs by the beach boys and nothing else. malarkey threatened to end everyone and himself that day, so they've never played a beach boys song since.

george is convinced they're gonna win the local battle of the bands competition, and enters them without telling any of the others. unfortunately for them, local favourites, the bastognes, fresh off their very first tour and supposedly on the precipice of being signed to an actual record label, are also competing. and are probably going to win. no, they're definitely going to win. no doubt about it.

the bastognes are ofc very familiar faces, but i'll leave that for future discussion. outside of the band scene, we also have david webster, classical pianist, who really doesn't want to be dragged into a sticky dive bar to deal with these idiots and their antics, but is definitely going to be. mainly bc he writes for the local university paper and has been assigned to cover the competition. then we have joe toye, who bartends at said dive bar, aka the music venue holding the competition. he may or may not be fucking a certain band member who may or may not also be his boyfriend.

yes, there's webgott. yes, there's baberoe.

babe and his tamagotchi frequent heavily bc the bar is so low for me and it does in fact have me frothing at the mouth

and if you're curious, his tamagotchi is yellow with pink and orange buttons and detailing

if you still want it injected into your veins i am ready and waiting with the syringe!

for this ask/tag wip game :)

[krakerjaksstuff]

✨ 🛳️ 🔁 💌 :3

I don't even remember when you asked me this but better late than never!

✨ (fic you wish to reread for the first time)

Lifer by reservoirbetweenus/@coldarena. I'll be honest that one of the main reasons I finally got around to finishing this draft was because I wanted an excuse to scream about this fic. IT'S SO FLIPPING GOOD AND I WISH I COULD INJECT IT INTO MY VEINS. I read it all in one (1) day and I rewish I can go back to it just to feel it again. It's a hilldane fic that is also an Ack Ack character study and it's phenomenal. It's almost 40k, the prose is absolutely stunning and it's canon-divergence where they both live so! It's also non-linear and so expertly explores both the war and post-war life. If anyone likes hilldane or just wonderful writing in general, 100% check this fic out.

🛥️ (fic that made you ship a new ship)

you keep flipping the coin and it comes down heads by gericault/@momfriendlipton. Aka: the speirton fic for me, and you were the one who introduced me to it! Not only did it get me into speirton, but also Band of Brothers in general so my life has been fundamentally rerouted just because of it.

🔁 (reread several times)

OH THERE'S SO MANY! But I will say that south of your shoulder west of your spine by rydia has a very dear place in my heart <3 It’s hanahaki, it’s fwb, it’s got all the tenderness and angst. What more could you want? I was literally talking to you about it today and was still getting emotional about it even though it's been years since my first read through. It's also my first sylvix bookmark which is insane to me.

💌 (inspired to create from)

Basically every fic I like I am inspired to create from it. Mostly because if I like a fic enough, my brain will automatically go into Comic Mode tm and think of it in comic format. Do I actually draw these? No...but I really would like to one day! Honestly, the only fanart for a fic I've drawn would be my two doodles of your webgott cruise ship au, In Defiance of All Expectations. Y'all should go read it if you like fluff and webgott :3. I got cavities so many times from reading it <3

[roadtogracelandx45]

Unexpected 2 | Webgott x Olivia Stewart

masterlist

part one

This pairing and Olivia are slowly becoming my favorite. Right up there with Liv and Winnix. I can't help myself. Though Webster and Olivia's relationship with Webster is more platonic than her relationship with Dick. But that will be more in Courage Under Fire and Under False Pretenses.

Also posted on ao3: here

Blurry blue eyes watched as Joe helped his wife stand up and lead her back to the stairs, his ears perking when he heard his name and spare room. That was the Captain, no, Major, Stewart, he knew. 

He had forgotten that after her attack and they were settled in the South of France again, Colonel Sink on General Forbes's orders promoted her to Major. She would never let one of the Toccoa boys be out in the cold without a roof over his head and they all knew that. 

He flicked his eyes back over to the couple who were still standing by the stairs, Olivia on the second step cupping her husband's cheek and whispering to him with a small tender smile on her face. Joe turned his head and pressed several kisses to her wrist and palm before pressing a kiss to her mouth and watched as she walked up the stairs to their bedroom. He waited until the door shut behind her before he turned back to Webster who straightened.

"How is she?" He figured that Olivia was going to be a safe subject to start with. Joe didn't answer at first, instead, he went over to the drink cart and started sifting through it. "Joe?" "I am lucky to still have her. And the baby. She almost lost the baby again when we got to Charleston." 

The guilt that he had been trying to push down came back up as did the remaining whiskey, he fought off the feeling of wanting to throw it all up.

"She was on death's door again. General Stewart was able to get a doctor friend of General Forbes to come down from Manhattan. There was a lot of blood." 

Seeing how tense he was, David pulled himself up from his chair and stumbled towards the skinny man.

"They were able to find a heartbeat."

 Tentatively, he reached his hand out and clasped his friend's bare shoulder. He had seen Joe furious before, borderline murderous and devastated yes but scared never.

This was a new side to him. 

"I heard it, it was faint but it was there. I have never heard anything like that before. And Liv, she was freaked out, like how she was that night, begging me to still," Joe trailed off and turned his head so their eyes could meet and Webster wasn't surprised to see the unshed tears in them.

"To still what?"

 "Still love her and not leave her if she lost our baby." He paused before shaking his head, not wanting to talk about the fear that had settled in the pit of his stomach and how it wasn't going away. It probably wouldn't until the baby came and they were both safe. Or how her screams and cries begging the doctor to let him stay with her woke him up in the middle of the night and he pulled her closer to him while she slept.

 "She was in the hospital for over a week to rest and replenish her blood. I had to leave her there."

He tightened his hand on his shoulder as his free hand started pouring some of the Vat 69 whiskey into the glass for him. He felt like a total tool for coming here and bringing up memories that were still fresh, he didn't know that things had been that bad for them. He thought that honestly some of it was for show. That Olivia had been over dramatic but seeing Joe now and how almost tender he was with Olivia changed his mind. 

 "It was one of the two hardest things I have ever had to do. I wasn't allowed in to see her. Marla," 

Webster vaguely remembered the brunette younger sister of the Stewart twins from the 10-day pass they had right after the start of the new year after jump school, she hadn't been afraid to start cursing at him when she heard some of the comments that he made about her sister to Joe, Floyd, and Grant, "stayed with her. Liv, she begged to not be left alone."

 "What about Alice?" The two girls had been inseparable throughout their time together. "Her father was sick." He supplied, "Olivia insisted that she stayed with her parents. She put  her life on hold for long enough to follow Liv everywhere." 

Webster pressed the glass into his trembling hand, urging him to drink.

 "I was ready to stay in Charleston until the baby came. But Katherine was getting released from prison." 

Whiskey splashed over the side of the second glass, "What?! She tried to kill  them in front of an officer." They, along with most of the men in Easy Company, met Katherine McHale on the same trip. Olivia went from this bright shining girl to a shell who retreated to the safety of Lewis Nixon's protection and Katherine flipped her lid and pulled Olivia from the safety of Lewis and Dick Winters.

"My reaction exactly.' Joe found his lighter on the cart and lit a cigarette, " Her getting out changed that, we wanted her out of there quickly. There was no way she was getting on another plane."

Webster's mouth twitched, and he remembered Olivia's aversion to flying especially after their jump into Normandy. According to Buck who landed near her in Holland, he could hear her cursing the entire way down. "So her stepmom and grandma flew out and started finding us a place and we took the train." Joe had been relieved that she had been cleared to take the train out of Charleston, if Katherine had known that she was still in the hospital she would have shown up and caused more issues for Olivia. But thankfully she was released and they were on

 the train before Katherine found out anything from Marla. California would be the last place that Katherine would look for her, especially since she was still under the impression that Olivia was still with Lewis and not with a poor barber from San Francisco.

The man pulled away from him and sat on the loveseat again.

Taking a breath, Webster followed him and sat down next to him, deciding to lead him away from his wife, especially with how bad things were with her health was a horrendous choice and he was regretting it. 

 "Was this your choice?" He motioned around the living room.

 "Liv's, she saw it and fell in love with it." He returned, "You should have seen her face light up when she saw it. Her grandparents insisted said it was Christmas, birthdays, and wedding presents from the last few years

Webster nodded his head and looked at the coffee table that had papers scattered across it. A thick cream invitation caught his attention and he picked up.

The words were still blurry but he could make out Olivia's and Joe's names and the date of July 12th, 1946. 

Two years after their original wedding date.

"Are you getting remarried?"

"On our second anniversary, yes. If you are still here you should come with us." The invitation seemed innocent but there was something lingering behind Joe's words, something that David had desperately wanted to hear. He had needed to know that there was still something with Joe, that

 he wasn't just constantly reliving the past. 

"If I am still here? Do you want me around?" He repeated after swallowing a mouthful of Vat .69. Joe nodded his head as he exhaled a billow of smoke, he knew that he wasn't going to let him go again and he was sure once Olivia got over her anger and hurt towards him, she would agree that the wedding wouldn't be the same without David there.

Just like it wouldn't be the same without Nixon or Dick there. Now that anger faded, all of those feelings that he had previously towards him came rushing back to him. And he was at a loss for it.

Yes, he cared for David and always would but his life was upstairs in bed hopefully sleeping. When he married Olivia after they got back from France, that was it for him, he wanted her and a life with her since the moment he laid eyes on her way back in Toccoa but David offered a rougher side of things.

The side that he tried to keep hidden from Olivia. Yes, he got rough with her but not how he would with him.

David couldn't help the hope that soared up. He knew that he couldn't compete with everything that Olivia was but him wanting him there was a sign. But he had to ask, he had to know before he made any decision to stay. "What was the second hardest thing you had to do?

"Leaving you behind in New York."

[educationalporpoises]

Helloooo! Hru? I saw you reblogged an ask game post and figured I'd drop by :)

Would you care to answer ⛔, 🎶, and 🤩? Absolutely love ur blog btw!

Thank you!! I'm well, how are you?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped? Tons! Way more has been scrapped than I have published/current wips. Due to my writing process (the single giant wip document) it's rare things are 'scrapped' but instead relegated to more of a detritus status I might steal lines from. I certainly have a few fics I don't think I'll write more of but I don't like to delete things unless I'm really sure.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? I am always listening to music no matter what. I tend to match what I'm listening to with whatever I'm writing-- "Longing to Linger With You" has a playlist with the songs in the fic and songs I listened to while writing. A couple of my current wips have playlists -- "Louder Than Bombs" and "American Dust" in particular. Currently I've been listening to a lot of Bob Dylan and The Velvet Underground while writing.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write? I've been having a great time writing Liebgott and the Webgott dynamic for BoB. Also like writing Winters but he's a bit subtler. For Star Wars I love love writing Din. Also like writing Crozier for The Terror a lot.

[theverakeller]

Perhaps often joke they never imagined being with someone like each other. But it would not be this abusive horrible relationship. Do you have some other HC's to share? (4 of 4). I wrote an essay back so LOL.

Anon, YOUR headcanons are everything omg. I JUST HAVE TO AGREE YESSSS!!! WITH EVERYTHING YOU SAID. YES Web wouldn’t take Lieb’s shit and Lieb would be quick to apologize. And yes Lieb would struggle a lot with his PTSD and so many arguments start becomes of his anger because of that but Web would shut that down and he just would be SUCH a support system for Lieb and vice versa and they literally would just need each other so much and UGH.

But MY HC’s? omg okay so I don’t have many but literally my biggest one is that throughout the series, Lieb has a huge crush on Web and anytime he is around him he’s a super dork. LIKE COME ON. HE IS AND NO ONE CAN DENY THAT. So OBVIOUSLY when Lieb first saw Web he was like ‘holy shit this dude is super beautiful, way too pretty to be in the army what is he doing here whatever liebgott don’t get distracted’ but the thing is, is that Lieb CANNOT get Web out of his mind? He literally cannot look away when he’s near him his senses are just super heightened when Web’s around and so when he FINALLY says something to Web, he says something super stupid and is immediately ‘oh fuck you idiot he went to harvard he probably thinks you’re an idiot’ and then starts laughing it off and promptly insults Web for something dumb. As time goes on and they’re off in England and eventually further into Europe, the game that Lieb comes up with himself is to see how many times he can touch Web or make him laugh (so he says stupid shit) which is hard bc Web is always so solemn and writing in his damn journal and basically Lieb is just head over heels for this dude ok. When Web gets shot, Lieb heart almost jumps out of his chest when he finds out and so before Web gets shipped off to the hospital he makes sure that he goes and makes fun of him for getting shot or something but honestly he’s dying on the inside at the fact that Web got shot and is going away but is super glad that it wasn’t any worse AND MIND YOU THIS IS ALSO THE FIRST TIME THAT LIEB SHOWS WEB A LITTLE BIT OF SOFTNESS and not his usual dumb, sarcastic self that he usually is. Like after he makes fun of Web for getting shot, Lieb goes to leave but then turns back around and makes sure to softly put a hand on Web’s warm for a moment too long and tells him that he’s glad he didn’t get hurt too bad.

When Web comes back from the hospital Lieb is a different Lieb obvs, he is exhausted and SO ANGRY that Web wasn’t there in the Ardennes but at the same time he can’t stop the dumb fluttery feeling that pops up whenever Web comes around again and he’s just so happy that he’s back and seeks him out all the time and just touches him whenever he can. For example:

AND LIEB JUST PINES OKAY.  HE PINES!!! And he continues to be a dork in front of Web because WEB IS JUST EVERYTHING THAT LIEB IS NOT, HE WENT TO HARVARD! HE’S SMART! HE’S NOT A LOUDMOUTH! AND JUST EVERYTHING THAT LIEB NEVER KNEW HE WANTED BUT HE WANTS!!!! Lieb’s crush continues once Web comes back and there he is just being a dork and literally everyone in easy is like ‘bro?? what is your problem?? why are you such a loser when Web is around??” and so since this crush and pining just continues CAUSE IT COULD NEVER COME TO FRUITION BC LIEB THINKS WEB IS TOO GOOD FOR HIM. So the whole scene with the finding out that Web never finished school and Web freaks out on Lieb and then LIEB COMFORTS TO LET HIM KNOW THAT HE DOESN’T THINK ANY LESS OF HIM FOR NOT FINISHING and so when he asks him what he studied and Web is like ‘Lit’ and since Lieb is still in that trying to make Web feel better zone, his mind literally does a haywire when responding and without even thinking about it he’s like “I LOVE TO READ” and starts naming off comic books and then once he realizes what he’s done that’s when he puts the cigarette in his mouth bc ‘OMG JOSEPH LIEBGOTT, YOU ARE AN IDIOT, WEB ALREADY THINKS YOU’RE AN IDIOT AND YOU HAD TO GO STICK YOUR FOOT IN YOUR MOUTH’ and he’s just embarrassed and dying. MEANWHILE HE DOESN’T NOTICE THAT WEB HAS A BLUSH ON HIS FACE AFTER THIS CONVERSATION.

Meanwhile after finding the Landsburg camp, Lieb kind of curls in on himself and isn’t Lieb and Web is alarmed and notices and so he finds himself actively searching out Lieb to make sure he’s okay and to keep his mind off things and just wants to comfort him and all the time, even though he’s in his mind, Lieb is still like BUTTERFLIES IN TUMMY and it’s the cutest but since he’s not trying so hard he’s not being a loser and dumb and they just become closer and ugh it’s beautiful.

WHICH LEADS ME TO THE FACT THAT IDK HOW BUT THEIR FIRST KISS HAPPENS AFTER THE WAR IS OVER, IN FACT THEIR FIRST KISS HAPPENS V-E DAY NIGHT WHEN THEY’RE BOTH DRUNK OUT OF THEIR MINDS BUT THEN WHEN THEY REALIZE WHAT THEY DID BOTH OF THEM ,ESP LIEB AVOID EACH OTHER LIKE THE PLAGUE but they can’t do that forever bc reasons and so they have to talk about it eventually but that leads to more kisses and Lieb is like ‘wtf I thought you thought I was an idiot??’ and Web is just like ‘You are an idiot bc i’VE LITERALLY WANTED TO KISS YOU SINCE YOU SAW ME OFF WHEN I GOT SHOT’ and basically both have had feelings for each other since idk when and they didn’t know bc they’re both idiots.

ANYWAY MORAL OF THIS VERY LONG STORY IS THAT THEY ARE SUPER IN LOVE AND SUPER SOFT WITH ONE ANOTHER DESPITE THEIR VERY HEATED ARGUMENTS WHICH DO HAPPEN AT TIMES BUT THEY GO TOE TO TOE AND EVENTUALLY GIVE IN TO ONE ANOTHER BC THEY LOVE EACH OTHER TOO MUCH. AND LIEB DOES DUMB SHIT AND SAY STUPID STUFF WHEN WEB IS AROUND.

I’m sorry that was literally just one headcanon and I have other (not many) but there isn’t enough space and I already talked too much anyway lmao

[blood-mocha-latte]

literally just realised someone else asked you that already 😅 so...fave webgott headcanons instead?

bestie i am happy to answer ANY ask of yours do not Fret. anything for u truly. now!! have some post-war webgott <3.

- they don’t end up with each other. at least in a conventional way: there’s no staying at the same house, or eating dinner together, or even being on the same coast.

- even when it’s been years, and there’s no reason to fear something happening, or either of them being caught, or they could do it, maybe, they could maybe make it, it doesn’t matter. because in their heads, maybe they can’t.

- webster still comes down to california, of course. liebgott tends to not find himself in the east, he says it’s too cold and it’s the same thought of not making it that keeps webster from complaining.

- they’ll spend maybe a week together, fighting and annoying and bothering each other.

- web leaves, doesn’t write to liebgott and liebgott doesn’t write to him. then one of them will call and have the same conversation about california and webster is buying a train ticket all over again.

- and so the cycle begins anew.

- liebgott is prone to anger. to fighting back. always has been, but after the war it seems to become drier, like a husk that he can’t peel away from his organs.

- and, well, websters father was prone to dry anger. he isn’t real good at fighting back against it.

- they clash against each other and into each other and with each other but it’s always dry anger, and on the offset that it’s more gentle than thought doesn’t matter because the anger comes right on back with the nightmares and lost thoughts of guilt and grieving and the whole cycle starts all over again.

- webster reads and re-reads and re-re-reads the hollow men by ts eliot. next to him in a too-small bed, liebgott puts a cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and tells him that if the world is going to end, it sure as hell won’t be with a whimper.

- there’s a bell in the kitchen that webster thinks that liebgott might have stolen from a restaurant; he likes to ring it to make the other come out and make him breakfast.

- liebgott never does, so webster rings the bell to entertain himself and then sorts through the cupboards that he memorized years ago to find pans and mugs and plates.

- web may not be catholic anymore, but a cross isn’t a skin that can be shrugged off. it isn’t a coat or an idea, it’s as core to someone as the knowledge that lungs inflate when someone inhales. it’s believing with every atom in your body that something doesn’t exist, but still having a small part in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like a child asking are you sure?

- he carries around a bible, the only tab in it opens onto leviticus 18 22.

- the cover is dusty and hardly seems to have ever been opened. liebgott sees it only once, carefully packed into websters back with ts eliot and oscar wilde and doesn’t say a thing on it

- once, when webster came down in november, he opened it. read where the tab marked and closed the book again. he didn’t touch it, after that.

- webster was awake when he flipped through the bible. the next time he went down to california, he left it at home in a box under his bed.

- guilt is a funny thing, and he has a lot of it.

- over the book. over his own thoughts. over a war that ended a millennia ago that he missed out on, and doesn’t regret, but does look back on and wish. for what, he doesn’t know, but he’s always been an outsider, so he supposes it doesn’t matter.

- of course, it doesn’t matter. it never did, it never will, it never has.

- liebgott pretends that he forgets websters first name. won’t say it, ever, and webster can’t figure out why. it makes him angry, but not the angry that liebgott is, that his father was.

- a shakier kind of upset, that’s more grief than rage. all it seems to do is prove an argument he made inside his own head.

- webster always leaves the same way. in a huff. slams the door shut, liebgott won’t accompany him down to the train station. he won’t call him, either, and webster had given up on writing to him years ago.

- but maybe liebgott sits down and writes a letter, one day. maybe he writes, and it’s the first thing he’s ever written to web and the war ended twelve years ago and there’s a bell sitting in his kitchen, deathly quiet.

- and webster always tends to be predictable. he always has to get the last word in.

- the next visit down to california is much, much longer.

[ww2yaoi]

the response to my webgott fic has been so damn nice so far thank you so much guys… having not posted on ao3 in four months was driving me CRAZY from dopamine withdrawal and now I feel validated again yay 🩷

[terresdebrume]

Fic writing tags index

Note: All tags linked here will contain a mix of snippets, liveblogging my writing process, requests for beta, and other writing related musings. Every fic published here can be found on my AO3 account, where it will generally be proofread, edited, and slightly longer. Note 2: The way I tagged my writing stuff has been quite inconsistent up until now, and I'm only tagging my more recent posts so... if you see a post that doesn't fit in the system outlined here, that's why. Please send the stragglers my way so I can corral them in with the rest of the things :3 Note 3: For the purpose of keeping things convenient for me and this post reasonably short, I will not be listing all my fics here. If you wanna see all 370+ of my published fics, please head to AO3. Some fics have individual tags but they'll probably be mixed in the relevant series tags

General tag (for writing woes, comments and other stuff aside from fic) : Matt writes

HBO War fic

Category: HBO War Fic (So far exclusively Band of Brothers)

Series: Domestic Postwar Webgott (In progress)

Series: The Limo driver!Joe Verse (In progress)

Dead Boy Detectives fic

Category: DBDA Fanfic

Series: DBD Microfic (Complete)

Series: I'm down on my knees (In progress)

Series: Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency (Drafting)

Stranger Things

Category: Stranger Fic

Series: Steve in the City

Saint Seiya Fic

Category: Saint Seiya Fanfic

Series: Times Between Us (In progress)

The Mortal Instruments

Category: TMI Fic

Series: Immortal Instruments (In progress)

The Witcher

Series: Witcher of the Rings (Complete)

[in-the-ether]

Band of Brothers + Welcome to Night Vale (part 1 / part 2)

[lewis-winters]

Pls talk us through your Austen and BoB pairing choices because they sound incredible

Anon, whoever you are, I want to kiss you on the mouth.

Ok, so, I think you're talking about this post, yes? I know I said in the tags that I'd only elaborate with moodboards but, truly, the only moodboard I made was one for Emma!Winnix; certain screenshots c/o of @lupoteodoro):

and, idk, but something about Emma just hits me as a Winnix Jane Austen AU, yeah know? it's just so clear cut when I think about it. on one hand, Dick as your upright, never wrong, severely repressed, and hopelessly in love Mr. Knightley, who is so SO proper he's practically a walking etiquette manual, but manages to lose all basic composure when confronted with his best friend, who he cannot help but love and adore, despite being spoilt and selfish and apathetic at the worst times while also being probably the kindest, bravest man he knows at the best of times.

and Nix as Emma Woodhouse! handsome. charming. rich. and so SO bored with his life-- so SO lonely, rather, trapped under his father's thumb and pretending that it doesn't quite bother him. and so SO nosy but so SO loving, despite what he thinks, despite what he feels he's capable of. he loves people, wants them to be happy, and falls over himself just to make sure they get as much happiness as he could give them. his arrogance is his downfall, but his heart will always pull him to do what's right.

then later on, after everything, Dick stands before Lew under a great big tree, cradling his face in his hands, frantically wiping away tears with his thumbs while his own run down his face. "Lew," he croaks, trembling with fear and anticipation and an inability to keep it all in any more. He must say it, otherwise he just might explode. "I'm sorry--"

Lew shaking his head. Confused. "What--"

"I just. I'm so silent, and here you are, always so honest, with everything out on the table," Dick lets out a shaky exhale. "I cannot make speeches... Perhaps, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

... more under the cut because I rambled:

So. I know when people think Pride and Prejudice, their first idea would obviously be Webgott, and honestly I don't disagree. Web as a snobby, arrogant Mr Darcy who is actually just socially inept but so willing to change, so willing to break through his own apathy in order to meet Elizabeth!Joe's standards-- not to win him, or anything, but simply because he thinks Joe has some merit, despite looking down on him for his lack of wealth. And Joe as a fiesty Ms Elizabeth Bennet, who simultaneously loves and hates his family, who loathes this arrogant man, who never has a nice thing to say about Joe, who only ever insults him, only to turn around and proclaim to have been bewitched, body and soul, by Joe's supposed charm-- Joe likes to pretend nothing in him softens at the admission, and he does well at first. But the more he gets to know him, the more he can't seem to stay away.

Except, I also love the idea of Persuasion Webgott-- particularly with a focus on this post, a meta from Wentworth's POV of the novel. Where they're old lovers who were thwarted by Anne!Web's awful family, intervening because they think they know better, that Wentworth!Joe will lead Web to nothing but ruin. Except, Joe becomes a rather successful navy captain, while David rots in his family home, largely ignored and sometimes exploited, wasting away as regret and yearning eats at him from the inside.

When Joe comes back, he has every intention to rub it in David's face-- finally! after years of hurt and resentment, he can come back a wealthy man and watch the boy who broke his heart lead a miserable life while Joe himself gets everything he thinks he deserves.

Except he doesn't enjoy it. Because no matter how much he has stewed in his resentment, he can never actually wish Web any harm. He watches this once vibrant, laughing boy turn into a shy, miserable young man, who keeps his blue eyes trained on the floor, whose attempts at conversation get pushed aside. Nobody seems to realize that he's hilarious and utterly enlightening when he gets passionate enough, and that he can take a joke more gracefully than anybody gives him credit for, and that children adore him, because he's the only one willing to treat them like actual people. Nobody knows these sides to him-- nobody but Joe. And seeing them so forcibly smothered by the oppressive air of the Webster clan is far more painful than Joe thought it would ever be. How could people ignore him like that? treat him like he's dead? Why? Don't they know how funny he is? how kind? Joe wants to scream.

Meanwhile, David carries his cross with all the grace of a man beaten down by everything. He made a mistake-- he was young and in love and afraid and now, he's paying for it. But Joe looks so happy. He's moved on, and though it hurts, Web knows that he has nobody else to blame but himself, and so he moves through the world like a burden and nurses the regret in him like a leaden stone.

And while there's Persuasion!Webgott, I want there to be P&P!Speirton, particularly based of the 2005 movie-- do not come into my house and tell me Ron wouldn't be the most emotionally constipated and socially inept Darcy ever because he would be PERFECT and Lip. Oh wonderful Lip, who doesn't quite stand up for himself all the time, but who finds the way this man looks down on him grating at best, and downright offensive at worst. He's hissing and spitting at Ron the whole damn time while Ron is looking at him with stars in his eyes, utterly confused but loving every second of it.

And lastly, Northanger Abbey!Baberoe, with Cathy!Babe, his head perpetually in the clouds, his imagination a wild, wild thing, and Tilney!Eugene, who is this mysterious heir to this massive, southern gothic estate. Who has the looks of Byronic, brooding hero and is anything but. Who is kind and gentle and absolutely smitten by this bright-eyed, fiesty redhead who's stumbled into his world, head filled with stories. Babe is a breath of fresh air on the Roe estate, and Eugene, against his better judgement, is drawn to him all the more.

Except this time, Babe's stories have opened new doors for him, and perhaps, out of everyone in this genre confused tale, he is the only one who sees reality for what it is. And what he sees might not be anything Eugene would like.

... I just might create a moodboard for this one too, mostly because Southern Gothic is an aesthetic I adore and would love to put together an edit for HOWEVER I haven't managed to find the right pictures just yet. Also I want to read Northanger Abbey again. So this is a great excuse.