#band of brothers au

[theweirdgoodbyes]

misadventures at nix’s tavern

“Joe, you’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

Lewis Nixon put his head in his hands and wonders why the fuck this needed to be happening today of all days. Despite never advertising as such, but possibly having to do with his brusque employees and inability to keep a female hire, Nix’s Tavern had gotten the reputation as both an Irish bar and a gay bar; March 17th and June 28th were their busiest days of the year. It was the morning of Saint Patrick’s Day and all hands were on deck to keep shit as together as possible: Joe was an active hindrance to that. Joe, all 135 pounds of him, was his best bartender and worst nightmare rolled into one. He could make a drink quicker and better than anyone, was never late, and managed to piss off everyone who stepped in the door, highlighted by last night’s disaster.

“Joe, don’t do this to me today. C‘mon, man.”

“You can’t fire me. What did I do wrong?” Joe, who he doesn’t even remember hiring by the way, throws his arms up.

“What did you-Joe, do you remember calling a woman a troglodyte last night? Because I do. Do you remember her throwing one of my martini glasses at your head? You still smell like olives.”

“I didn’t call her a troglodyte, I called her boyfriend one,” Joe shrugs, looking back at the bar he had been summoned from, “Can I get back to my prep?”

“Her boyfriend, oh, my deepest apologies,“ Nix presses his hands together in mock remorse, “Yes, you called her boyfriend a troglodyte. That makes it so much better. Joe, I cannot fucking have you here tonight. Just go home. Please, man.”

“You can’t expect Welsh and Luz to be on bar alone!” Joe cries, pointing at the two other bartenders who are supposed to be cutting limes but seem to be having more fun balancing shot glasses on their palms.

“They have each other. Put the fucking glass down, George!” George shoots Nix a quick thumbs up before the three glasses he has balancing in his other hand fall to the floor and shatter. George just gives him a shrug. God, this day needs to be done with already.

“Lew, are you fucking stupid?”

“Stupid for letting you work here? Stupid for opening this place? I’m the biggest idiot on fucking earth.”

“Lew,” Joe says, as serious as Joe can ever be, “I’ll be good tonight. Promise.” It’s a bold faced lie, but they both know that Joe needs to be here. A fact that Nix hates and Joe will never let him forget. For all his flaws and abilities to irritate the shit out of most of their customers, Joe had been a godsend after Buck quit.

“Joe, I swear to God,” Nix says, the same warning he’s given him time and time again, “Last chance.”

“Last chance.” Joe gives him a shit eating grin and a wink before getting up from their table and heading back to the bar, grabbing a pan and broom on the way to clean up George’s mess.

Joe fucking Liebgott, Nix laments as he gets up and makes him way to the kitchen to check on Malarkey, I hope you get your ass kicked tonight.

Enjoy this little add on to my other dive bar!au posts, all of which are now tagged under “misadventures at nix’s tavern!

#misadventures at nix’s tavern #enjoy this little snippet! I think this au will end up being mostly little screenshots of moments at the bar #because who needs a plot #hbo war #band of brothers #band of brothers au #band of brothers fanfiction #hbo war fanfic #Lewis Nixon #joseph liebgott #maddie writes

[claudycod]

we need more BoB AU

I saw here something about Winnix music critic/rockstar or something like that and HONESTLY I WOULD LOVE IT

#band of brothers #lewis nixon #dick winters #winnix #band of brothers au #someone make this happen

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I just HAD to write something for the Ron x Val Medieval AU. We all knew this was coming. They're ingrained in my brain and I'm going absolutely insane. Shout out to @xxluckystrike and @dcyllom for hyping this up, love you guys!!!

The smell of smoke, ale and blood filled the air of the tourney ground, the deafening clang of sword against armour suppressing all other sound, save for the raucous cheers of the crowds, the peasants and nobility alike leaping to their feet to clap and shout for each victory or violent loss. It was near halfway through the third day of the tournament - an ironic way to celebrate the returning troops who now risked their very life and limb in the games, Valerie thought - but her father had always enjoyed marking their victories with indulgence and sport.

Hidden away from the action and excitement, Valerie crouched beside one of the huge barrels of wine, waiting in the dimly lit tent for the returning knights to drink and celebrate, pouring a thin stream of the red liquid into her goblet, tongue drawn between her teeth in concentration. It was likely she had another thirty minutes before the King and Queen noticed her prolonged absence from the festivities and sent someone to find her, and she aimed to make the most of this time. So concentrated was she in pouring herself a glass - balanced on the balls of her feet, eyes level with the spout in the low light - that she did not notice another figure enter the tent behind her.

"Your Highness?" An almost familiar voice spoke, low and smooth, but enough to surprise her, the goblet tumbling onto the grass below.

"Oh, damn it all," She muttered, stretching up to stand, gaze fixed on the wine as it soaked into the dirt until it was gone.

"My apologies," Ronald Speirs, somewhat shrouded in shadow, stepped forward, and Valerie watched as he bent down to retrieve the cup for her, brow furrowed as he momentarily considered refilling it before reaching for a clean one instead. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Her brow furrowed as he pressed the newly filled goblet into her palm. Everyone knew about Ronald Speirs - of his bravery, his reputation as one of the greatest warriors their kingdom had ever seen - and yet here he stood, entirely plainclothed, not so much as a shoulder plate to armour himself.

"You're not competing?" She asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm no tourney knight," He frowned, scoffing, reverential tone almost gone before he seemed to remember who he was talking to. He offered a respectful nod in penance.

Valerie almost laughed. "Uh oh. Is the Great Warrior Ser too good for such things?" Teasing, she took another goblet from the table nearby, pouring a second cup of wine and handing it to him.

"Entirely," Ron smirked, raising the cup to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. If she had been one of the more sheepish women of the court, Valerie might have blushed. Instead, the self-same smirk mirrored itself in her expression, cheeks creasing in the dim light.

"Well, in that case, you'll just have to come and watch," She shrugged, making her way towards the half-open tent flap.

He let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. "No, I don't watch."

Valerie looked over at him, raising a brow in scrutiny. "I hope you're not about to make a habit of disobeying your princess," She remarked, a humourous glint in her eye that he could scarcely refuse.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The joust was in full swing, wooden shields exploding into clouds of splinters as lances collided at speed, the crowd whooping and jeering as the occasional knight was flung from his horse into the mud below. In a narrow gap between the huge stands, Valerie watched on, out of sight from the crowds, her official seat as princess notably empty in the royal box. Ron stood a short distance behind her, a presumed attempt to preserve propriety, as the space was barely wide enough for them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and he didn't like the idea of being caught in such a position.

She laughed as another knight was toppled from his horse, polished armour muddied and scratched as he rolled sideways along the field. "Come here, you can't see it from back there," Val glanced back at Ron, gesturing for him to approach. He stood still for a moment, opening his mouth to protest before she interrupted. "That's an order, Ser. I thought you were usually good at following those."

Shoulders tensed, he awkwardly approached, the pair standing with their backs pressed against opposite walls, a last-ditch attempt at preserving some space between them. As the current round of jousting ended, and the victor was declared, Ron realised she had noticed the scowl that creased his expression as he watched over the proceedings.

"He's a pompous ass," He muttered, gesturing to the winner. "Fathered three bastards whilst we were away, too."

"Really?" Val gasped, a chuckle escaping her throat as he nodded in affirmation. Ron had not struck her as the type to know about his comrade's personal lives, let alone gossip about them. But she had always been enthralled by the scandalous secrets of others, for she had none of her own... yet.

"Oh, yes, on three different women," He continued, awkward restraint ebbing away as she realised he was beginning to enjoy himself, pointing out various knights visible from where they stood. "Today is the first time I've seen that one sober in weeks - terrible drunkard. The one next to him's no better - spent every peaceful night of the campaign in the whorehouse... forgive me, your Highness, that was improper."

"No, no," She grinned, shaking her head. "I'm having a marvellous time."

It was at that moment, across the joust field, that Valerie noticed her mother appear suddenly incensed, gesturing irritably at her daughter's empty seat, sending away a small group of guards, presumably to locate her. "Damn," She uttered.

"What is it?" Ron asked, surveying their surroundings for any possible issue. His eyes widened as she seized his hand, the softness of her palm starkly contrasting his, the rough, calloused skin a result of years of work, a scattering of scars as testament to a youth spent training with a blade. She tugged him from their hidden alcove and out into the maze of tents behind the tourney ground, darting between them as he followed, brow furrowed in confusion.

"My mother's looking for me," Val explained hurriedly, eyes wide as she paused for a moment, the pair shrouded by the canvas canopies. "Quick, you know this place better than I do. Where do I go?"

Ron paused, feeling her hurried heartbeat against his fingertips as they briefly brushed against her wrist. Earlier that morning, she had almost certainly looked immaculate, but now her intricately braided hairstyle was undoing itself, a few loose strands hanging low in her face.

She was almost certainly going to get him in trouble.

He found he didn't care.

"This way."

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #medieval au #ron x val #oc: valerie #band of brothers oc #band of brothers au

[latibvles]

who asked for history teacher Ron? Nobody? Well, here he is anyway on this episode of "AUs that make it out the group chat" : History teacher Ron, Principal Welsh, Coach Winters, Convenience Store Owner Chuck Grant, and a new biology teacher that's really hard to say no to. Convenience Store Owner Chuck is 100% on loan from @almost-a-class-act as per usual. this turned out way longer than I originally planned.

Teenagers were entirely too curious.

Which, he figures, he might be enabling, mentally allotting them those five minutes when they’re all finding their seats to ask him their too-curious questions and not giving them any straight answers. But if they don’t ask him at the start of class they’ll just ask him at the end of class anyway. At least this way no one’s late for their next period.

With the year coming to an end, it left more time for questions. Last week, they’d been trying to guess what color he’d wear to chaperone prom (the dark blue suit in the back of his closet that he wore to Lewis’ wedding. Dick paid for the dry cleaning as a ‘thank you’ for taking his spot). The week before that, the seniors in his history class started arguing over who Ron would miss the most once they graduated. He pretended not to hear them every time they asked who his favorite was.

This week it was, once again and inexplicably so, about his love life. In all its forms. Monday was about if he wanted kids (if they’re anything like you? I’ll pass, he’d said, biting his cheek to withhold the smile at the noises of melodramatic teenage offense), Tuesday was if he had a crush (one of the boys in the class, a football player, named Jennifer Lawrence and Ron just tilted his coffee cup in his general direction in acknowledgement).

Wednesday was a bit funny, they’d asked him to weigh in on their “sexiest Presidents” debate and hoot and hollered when Ron simply said “John F. Kennedy” as he pulled up the final review for Thursday's final. Yesterday was the final itself, and today, before the seniors circled back to the classic question before they were called down to the football field for graduation practice.

If he had a wife, or a husband, or a whatever, even though they knew after a whole school year with him that he wouldn’t answer the question.

Once again, teenagers were entirely too curious.

Ron rubs a hand over his mouth. He’d spent the first twenty minutes of his prep period writing recommendation letters for some of his juniors who were getting everything ready for their fall applications. He was fairly certain if he didn’t get up and do a lap or something he would go stir crazy, though, and his underclassmen lacked a lot of the clever tact that his seniors had when it came to asking him things he wasn’t going to answer — so he was mentally preparing for that, too.

He also hadn’t eaten, and eating during his elective would result in at least five different 15-17-year-olds asking for a bite of his lunch, as if they hadn’t, in some cases, just come from their lunch period.

There’s a sandwich he picked up from Chuck’s spot on Main in the fridge in the teacher’s lounge with his name on it, literally.

He’s quick to lock the door to his room, making his way down the hall in that direction.

He hears the laughter before he sees who it is, but he recognizes Dick’s voice as the other one as he pokes his head in before stepping in entirely. Dick was the one facing the door, a grin on his face, dark blue whistle hanging from his neck, looking at the person across from him. Ron catches his attention albeit unintentionally.

“Hey, Ron,” he greets easily like usual, before his eyes once again fall on the person across from him. “Mm, you haven’t met yet, have you?”

Even if the question’s directed at the woman sitting with him, Ron already knows the answer. They haven’t, he definitely wouldn’t forget a face like that.

She turns around in the chair and Ron’s met with dark, dark eyes and a braid falling over her shoulder, wisps of brown hair brushing the sides of her face. Long lashes and dimpled cheeks, her smile’s inexplicably bright and she isn’t even flashing her teeth. She looks back at Dick with a slight roll of her eyes, a smile still prevalent.

“Principal Welsh didn’t get to that part yet,” Ron withholds a snort. He’d gotten so used to calling him Harry that hearing someone call him Principal Welsh almost felt a little weird. She rises to her feet and Ron takes her in for the few beats it takes for her to cross over to him. Pale green skirt brushing her ankles and a white blouse. He holds out his hand for her to take, and she shakes it.

“Ron Speirs, then,” he offers, and she seems to smile a little wider at that.

“Passed by your room before Principal Welsh got seized by the seniors,” she remarks. “They always that busy?”

“In June, yeah.”

“Senioritis?” There’s something behind her eyes as she says it, mischief or amusement, something like that. He just nods his assent, and she lets out a quiet hum, understanding.

“Daisy Clarke, I’m Mr. Corrigan’s replacement for the fall.”

Mr. Corrigan was an eighty-something-year-old biology teacher with thinning white hair who, according to Ron’s sophomores, repeated himself way too often and didn’t accept typed-up papers. Ron hardly knew the guy beyond the few times he came down the hall to ask him to set up his slideshows, unable to find them himself. One of the school nurses, Nurse Kegley, brought him balloons and a card to congratulate him on his retirement.

Daisy still hasn’t let go of his hand.

“Biology, then?” he asks, and Daisy nods. “U.S History and Ancient Civ.” She squeezes one last time before letting go.

He was reminded once again, of his too-curious seniors who wanted even a crumb of information about his love life. If anything, he felt like them, his eyes quickly falling to her hand in a moment of brief curiosity. Daisy looks back at Dick, and then back to him.

“Dick and I were gonna figure out what to do for lunch. I think Welsh is gonna be busy until after graduation practice, I don’t know if you wanted to come with…”

“I know a spot on Main. Good sandwiches. It’s a short walk,” He says it before he thinks to not say it, and if he weren’t standing in front of her, he might’ve pulled a face at his own misplaced impulses. He’s usually not the one to offer himself up like this, and considering the knowing look Dick shoots at him from behind Daisy, Dick knows it too.

But her face brightens and she nods, looking back at Dick.

“That sound good?” And Dick, easy-to-please as ever, agrees.

She grabs her purse from its spot on the table and Dick rises to his feet and collectively the three walk out the door. Ron looks over at her, trying to think of something to say so he doesn’t have to mull over what he’s just said for too long.

“How do you know Dick?”

Friend’s boyfriend, is what she gives him, a fond smile on her face as she talks about it. She goes over meeting him at a Labor Day party last year on her friend Ginny’s arm. How she worked at an inner-city school in Boston before coming here to teach Honors Biology. Dick put in word to Harry about her. She looks over at him when they approach the convenience store and goes Celtics fan?, to which Ron nods.

“You and Dick must argue a lot then,” She notes, to their half-baked denials, knowing full and well how “annoying” they were during playoffs season, according to Harry.

Chuck gives him a look like Dick’s when he walks in, and Ron approaches the register, hoping that she doesn’t ask him the obvious as she walks over to the counter where Chuck has a guy on sandwiches. Arched brow, but still going for the pack of cigarettes Ron asks for.

“Who’s she?” He asks, sending a look over to her, who was talking to Dick about something Ron wasn’t really honed in on.

“New biology teacher,” Ron taps his fingers against the counter. “Was looking for a lunch spot,” Chuck grins, something toothy, bordering on shit-eating as he rings up the pack.

“Always appreciate the free advertisement,” He teases, and Ron rolls his eyes.

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.”

“No, you’re not,” Eyes narrowing at Chuck’s snickering, but he resteels his features when Daisy brushes by him to pay.

They’re quick about returning, after that — Ron reaching the end of his prep period. When Daisy realizes he didn’t get anything to eat, she’s immediately offering half of her sandwich. And Ron really doesn’t know why he agrees as though he doesn’t have his lunch waiting for him in the fridge, but he figures it might have something to do with dark eyes and pale green skirts and her apology every single time that her arm bumps against his.

Harry’s waiting in the teacher’s lounge, and Ron says goodbye, and Daisy once again squeezes his hand when she shakes it. He’s got half a sandwich that isn’t even his in his other hand, and sure as shit, when he unlocks his classroom door and lets his elective students in, a handful of them are already asking him to share.

“Maybe if you didn’t talk so much in that cafeteria you’d have time to eat.” Ron offers sarcastically, which garners a few snickers and a melodramatic whine of ‘Sir!’ from the boy in question. Ron takes a bite of it and sets it to the side for a moment to pull up his attendance roster for the period.

“Mr. Speirs?” A voice pipes up, a girl named Brienne. Ron makes a show of rolling his eyes.

“Oh God, not you again,” He doesn’t mean it and they know that, because the junior starts giggling as he marks her as present. He looks over at her. “Was that lady you were walking with with Coach Winters your girlfriend?” Ron narrows his eyes at her, rolls them, then keeps going down the list.

No doubt about it, teenagers were wholly, entirely, too curious.

#poet’s notepad #. daisy clarke #the teacher au #ron x daisy #band of brothers fic #band of brothers au #the 76ers v Celtics beef continues #hbowar au #important takeaways from this? #Ron likes the Celtics Turkey and cheese and allegedly his celebrity crush is Jennifer Lawrence

[meowneos]

i’d appreciate the help :3

#band of brothers #band of brothers au #hbo war

[roadtogracelandx45]

Under False Pretenses Rewrite 2| Band of Brothers AU

@marycorleone

masterlist

part one

Two 

Olivia blinked her eyes open and looked around the bedroom, the bitter resentment of her reality came crashing down around her again. She had been abandoned by the man that she thought loved her and was going to be her husband and the father of her child. And she was going to be

 stuck fulfilling a stupid promise that her great-grandfather made with Lewis's great-grandfather. For as long as she could remember she was with Lewis, or with his family, even her college education was done at the same schools as him. 

Whatever this business arrangement was, it was controlling her whole life, she was the only one that James had left to fulfill the promise. His daughters, Olivia's aunts, refused saying the whole arranged marriage thing was outdated and cruel. And Olivia agreed wholeheartedly. But in a way, she was happy that it was Lewis she had to marry, they did love each other deeply, not on the same level as her love for Joe but still it was there and then there was Dick. he loved them both and was ready for the long haul. 

As if he could read her mind Dick squeezed the hip he was still holding, "Good morning. Happy birthday.'  his voice was still thick with sleep. " Thank you." She returned softly, "Sorry about last night." Dick pressed his lips against her forehead and pulled her closer to him, "You have nothing to be sorry about love. This is what I am here for." He wouldn't admit that he had laid awake after Lewis dropped off to sleep wanting to escape back home but couldn't leave them both.

 Olivia was already falling apart about Joe leaving, his flight would bring as much damage. And then there was Lewis, he wasn't ready for all of this. He asked Olivia to marry him because it was what was promised between the Nixon and Stewart family and it was almost expected at this point that they would get married but the two were happy where they were with.

 Lewis with him and her with Joe.

 It all just made sense.

 Lewis shuffled closer to her, his lips finding the back of her neck and his fingers tracing a pattern on her bare skin. "Morning.' He mumbled kissing his way up the side of her neck to her jaw, "Happy birthday." Turning her head Olivia let him kiss her lips several times. He knew the best way to distract her from the feelings and their reality was all physical touch. Dick sensing that he wasn't going to be needed went to slide out of the bed but was stopped by Olivia's hand grasping his and pulling him back towards them her legs tangling with his pulling him flush against her. "Stay please."

 This was the first time that all three of them were together like this. Previously had just been watching or stealing glances and touches.  “Liv.” He started, his breath hitching in his throat when her lips found his throat, pressing soft kisses and nips against it.  Lewis’ hand grabbed his and squeezed letting him know it was okay, that they all needed this. 

**

Bobby Stewart sighed heavily as he let himself back into the condo early the next morning, he hated that he was going to be the one who had to tell his twin that Joe was gone, and they were having a hard time tracking him down.

 Even Hoobs and Alton, the two guys who found a rare bottle of whiskey for Olivia to give Lewis' for his birthday were having a hard time locating him. His phone was shut off, and the credit cards that he normally used hadn't been used since. The last time it had been used was when he went to a vintage jewelry store and purchased a ring. A ring that they had found sitting on the kitchen counter with a card with his sister's name scrawled on the front in Joe's chicken starch. 

"Livvy!" He called, sitting the packages he had brought down on the table that lined the front hallway, "Come on sis! Papa is waiting for us."

"She is coming." Dick's voice floated down the stairs as he came down them fastening the cufflinks Olivia insisted he wore to impress her grandfather and uncles. If he was going to be a part of their family, they had to prove to them that Dick was worthy of joining their family to be associated with the granddaughter of  Robert Stewart Sr. 

 "Is she okay?" He asked leaning against the doorframe.

 The tall redheaded man swallowed the lump that was in his throat, he didn't want to give anything away. "No, but can you blame her? She was with Joe for years. And he was her one true love." Bobby froze as he took the smoke out of the pack.

"Don't get me wrong she loves Lewis but it's not that maddening I have to be with you every second of the day or I am going to go crazy type of love." "I thought it was the same for Joe. But." The older twin cleared his throat and flashed the card at him, "This is saying otherwise." 

"You snooped into your sister's mail?" Dick was floored, he knew the twins were close but not that close. The only time that Bobby had been furious with his sister was when he found out that Olivia was sleeping with Joe. And had flirted with Floyd and Chuck, his friends. He didn’t mind her being a flirt but when it was his friends that's when he started to draw a line. 

“I don't know if this is going to help her or upset her even more.” 

Sighing, Dick reached out for the card and box that the older Stewart twin produced from his pocket, he knew that if they kept it from her and she found out, she would flip like she had when she found out that Bobby had tried to seduce Alice, one of Olivia's childhood best friends who was dating Bull Randleman, who when he found out about it first, took matters into his own hands and went after him. And then when Olivia found out about it went off the handle, cursing and throwing things at him. If it hadn’t been for Joe and Floyd pulling her away, she would have launched herself at him. She had been a firm believer in Alice and Bull being together and still was even after all the crap that they had been through together.

Before he could look at it, Olivia and Lewis appeared at the top of the stairs looking like a couple out of one of the magazines that Mrs. Stewart insisted that Olivia got every month. “Bobby, have you heard anything?” “No.” He returned, ‘The apartment was empty of all his belongings, he left this though.’ Dick held out the items to her causing her  to retreat up a few steps behind Lewis, like the items were going to burn if she touched them. “I don’t want to open them. I don’t want it confirmed that he is really and truly gone.”  Lewis turned to look at her, his hand catching hers again, squeezing it. “Read it, babe, it will help you.”  Her suddenly teary eyes searched Lewis’ dark eyes for several long moments before she nodded her head causing Dick to step forward and hand the items over to her. 

Growing more uncomfortable about what was going to happen, Bobby turned so his back was facing them, he couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak and pain that she was going to go through.  He couldn’t handle it.

**

Finally shaking off some of the guilt, Joe turned his phone on and frowned seeing the number of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages he had. Not only from Olivia but from her twin, Floyd Talbert, Chuck Grant, Mary Corleone, Alice and Bull Randleman, and Johnny Martin. The last one surprised him, normally Johnny stayed out of the petty drama was calling him on his bs. “I don’t know what the fuck you are thinking Joe, but leaving your pregnant girlfriend for whatever stupid fucking reason is bullshit.” The phone slipped out of his hands and clattered to the ground,  his Olivia was pregnant? With his baby? No, that was probably just an excuse they made up to have him come back.  Not even this would make him come home and back to Olivia and their baby. Their lives weren’t worth it.  

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #oc: olivia stewart nixon #band of brothers #band of brothers au #band of brothers modern day #lewis nixon #dick winters #lewis nixon x olivia stewart #livnix #winnix #dick x liv x lew #series: under false pretenses

[panzershrike-pretz]

I'm back to my Hadestown bullshit again but it just popped into my head: some kind of Orpheus/Eurydice kind of au with Band of Brothers 😳😳

#band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers fanart #band of brothers au #i may be stupid... but like. yeaH #if someone want to take this idea and write... 😳 i wouldn't being tagged #🥨🪶

[softguarnere]

@mrs-murder-daddy

I will eventually get around to writing all of these but hear me out:

Tangled AU with Lieb as Flynn Rider

Little Mermaid AU with Web as Prince Eric

Mulan AU with Winters as Shang

Princess and the Frog AU with Doc as Tiana

Beauty and the Beast AU with Babe as Belle

Lieb as Flynn Rider and Webster as Eric, when I tell you I am WEAK 🤌🏼😍

These all sound so good, and I am super excited to see where you go with them 💖 I hope you'll tag me whenever you post them 😁

#staring at the ceiling with no thoughts except for these aus #Webster as Eric I am in love actually #and Babe as Belle? 🥺 It suits him so well 😌 #friend you really spoil us with your awesome aus! #tumblr friends #asks #mrs-murder-daddy #band of brothers au #band of brothers

[spicyraeman]

my lae'zel doodle for today

#bg3 #lae'zel #bg3 band au #you cant convince me lae'zel isn't a lightweight #she drinks like 3 times a year and has 0% body fat #give her 3 beers and a shot and shes gone brother #my art

[cherrirui-official]

I hope u guys don't mind me posting these au doodles while I work on things ahaha

I also gave JD slightly longer hair in these doodles as a funny haha but I don't think it's funny anymore he looks genuinely good with his hair like that ahahaha I hope you're not mad at me for changing his au design a bit

#first of all ahem DONT TAG THIS AS SHIP OR WHATEVER!!! ILL THROW ROCKS AT YOU!!!!! BITCH!!!!!!! #troIlcest (or whatever you call yourselves idk) DONT TOUCH my SHIT! Ty :] anyways... #For context I like to hc that when he was younger Bruce would always have JD brush his hair #and like... whenever lil Bruce was upset it would help calm him down i think ahhauysgjiodk do u guys see the vision?? #and since it's my au i can make reality whatever i want it to be sooooo :] #I like to imagine that it still helps Bruce calm down even tho they're older now.. Big bro brushing his lil bros hair to soothe him UUGH #Let JD be a good older brother pleeease #also gave JD flowers in his hair too bc he deserves them me thinks... Now him and Bruce are matching!!! #i dont have any specific flowers in mind for the ones in their hair i just picked a color for the flowers that looked pretty and ran with i #also saying it again i love love LOOOOVE the crayon tool in mspaint using it to make gradients is so!!!! UUUGHUHHH!!!! /pos #the pattern on JD's jacket fur will never be consistent shhhhh #trolls #trolls band together #john dory trolls #trolls john dory #bruce trolls #trolls bruce #beach bros au #cherris canvas #I made that last image btw #everytime i saw that screenshot of jd it made me think of the spongebob scene where its a pov of flats waking up #and the first thing he sees is spongebob waiting for him with flowers in his hand and smiling

[bzjohndory]

YOUNGER BROTHER SUPREMACY

Copied and pasted from twt

-Idk some. Made up family rule that the younger brothers have to do the dishes. (Definitely made up by john dory when they first started out so he wouldn’t have to do them)

-ALSO I THINK WHEN THEYRE SIDE BY SIDE YOU CAN REALLY TELL I MADE BRANCH AND FLOYD’S HAIR PARALLELS OF EACHOTHER :] branch’s black going into blue and floyd is white going into pink 👻👻 giggles and runs away at younger brother duo designs

-sorry doing dishes at a restaurant suck so bad i am always questioning “is the food that good/bad ur fuckin up the plate like this???” Cleaning in general is the brothers’ least favorite thing to do besides branch and john dory

+bonus

#trolls band together #john dory #trolls john dory #trolls 3 #brozone diner #trolls floyd #trolls branch #trolls clay #younger brothers need to interact with eachother more #clay makes some bomb ass food #clay can be serious when he wants #clay needs to be seen as an older brother to branch and floyd more #in my au branch and floyd r rlly close and still bicker comfortably with eachother #goes insane #i love brozone diner

[pixiefeatherkw3]

Marunouchi No Sonic 【丸の内 のソニック】 x Oshi no Ko 【推しの子】

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #au #rock band au #marunouchi no sonic #comic page #oshi no ko reference #Yes #THAT Oshi no ko scene #he is not dying tho #don't worry #he is just tired and raising a little brother at 20 yrs old #does this count as hurt/comfort if sonic is finally opening up about his burnout? I think it does #re-posted #old drawing re-maded

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Ronald Speirs x Valerie Harmon - Medieval AU

Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry died on it's sword

Innocence died screaming

Honey, ask me, I should know

I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door

Tagging the Ron x Val enjoyers @xxluckystrike @dcyllom @mads-weasley @yentroucnagol @b00ks1ut @linhkhanhcps

#rattling them around in my brain like a marble #DO YOU SEE THE VISION?? DO YOU?? #band of brothers #ronald speirs #band of brothers au #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #oc: valerie #ron x val #medieval au

[latibvles]

when i'm all over your mouth.

part two of the priest x vampire au that nobody asked for. read part one here. Rated M for Mature, toeing that line of being rated E for Explicit because hey maybe no clothes come off but we certainly are toeing some lines over here, aren't we. this really got away from me. I may or may not also be throwing this on AO3 because great Googly Moogly this got long. Gore and blood warnings apply yada yada yada also not proofread again we die like men

She remembers the last time she fed off a person. She wishes that she was older — so that the memory might fade into a life she doesn’t remember living. But if she’s learned anything, it’s that getting what she wants isn’t very likely. She’ll live a dozen lives and likely never forget a thing. If things went her way, she might’ve been able to avoid this journey of coming to terms with her own existence. Her being wouldn’t have taken new meaning at all.

She remembers her mother’s eyes, cold and lifeless, and she remembers how every part of her was so terribly pale. The mangled state of her throat — the creature, no, soldier, with that same blood on the front of his white shirt, staining the lower half of his face and dripping from his beard.

He’d turned her into what she is now and all she saw was red. She hardly remembers the details, but she’ll never forget the taste of his blood — so dark it was near black. It clung to her throat, burned, made her retch and vomit long after she’d torn his windpipe from him, long after she’d hacked his head off with the ax they used for chopping wood to ensure he wouldn’t rise again. It was bitter. It burned. It stank. She’d screamed and cried and cursed him for allowing her to live as she does now. And she hadn’t had a drop of blood from another person in the eighty-four years since.

Until Ron, which wasn’t her plan. But she knows if she were to tell him it was never going to happen again, he’d call her bluff.

He was good at that — reading things, reading her, and it’s frightening in its own way. The only thing to truly frighten her since that day. More than the wars she’d served in, more than the sun in winter.

Twice more, she drinks from his wrist, because he offers, and they argue until they can’t anymore. He’s good at that. Arguing. It’s frustrating, because his logic is always infuriatingly sound. It’s annoying, because yes, he’s right, black burns that would’ve taken weeks to heal are healing quicker now and it is because of his blood.

She doesn’t know how to tell him the taste of him undoes the foul taste she always wished to forget. The very thought makes her feel as though she’s teetering on the edge of a ledge that crumbles a bit more with every brush of her mouth against his wrist, every time his pulse hammers against her awaiting lips and he stares straight through her.

He’s the sickness. He can’t also be the cure. That isn’t how anything works.

Ron draws her closer each time she sinks her teeth into his wrist — the third time, what she hoped to be the last time, his fingers dug into her hip, tight enough to leave an indent on her skin, leaned up against her countertop and she couldn’t help but hold his stare.

The air between them was tense afterward. Or maybe tense wasn’t the right word. Electric felt more apt, he stared at her lips in a way she recognized.

Daisy was no stranger to the look of desire on his face — the look on any man’s face. What was foreign to her was the fact that if he kissed her breathless right then and there, she wouldn’t have minded. She might’ve turned to putty in his hands. But if she had, would that make her any better than the invasive bloodsucking myth her existence stemmed from? She didn’t think she had it in her to take from him when he’d already given to her — more than she’d ask of any person.

Just a drop of him, from his wrist no less, and she swears she might be hooked. Her curiosity is piqued — something she has to beat back now for the sake of herself and his personal safety.

One of the few things she prided herself on was her dedication to learning more about her condition — the science of it, not relenting despite the scarcity of reliable source material. She knows through personal experience that all blood tastes… different. Depending on the creature, depending on where it comes from. She knows that his wrist would be different from his neck, knows that to many, there’s an implication behind it that she won’t inflict him with. He isn’t hers to keep and being hers would likely be forsaking the principles of his line of work. It wasn’t fair.

There are other traditions she’s learned about that aren’t nearly as damning, even treading the line of sentimental.

“You’re good at that.” He observes, watching with a curious eye as she dices carrots on the cutting board. It’s a compliment, she knows it is, but she can’t help but snort at the boyish way he watches.

“If I didn’t get good at this with eighty years of experience then there’d be a problem.” He shakes his head, trying to dissuade that twitch of the corner of his mouth at her attempt at a joke, which makes her smile in turn.

“And this is…”

“Well I could call it a thank you,” Daisy keeps her gaze trained on her hands now, in part not to cut her finger and in part because she can already feel Ron’s stare honing in on her. “Or me paying you back, but that makes things sound too… transactional. So we’ll just say it’s my turn to feed you for a change,” she continues, the only other noise being the sound of the cutting board hitting the wood. “Plus, it’s chilly out. That’s stew weather.”

She dares take a glance at him through her peripheral vision, at his messy hair and innately imposing stature. This morning, he was in the typical black shirt and white collar she’d seen on him so many times before. His hair was combed and he stood a fair distance from those who came to talk to the Father, his face straigh and stern, hardly shifting when she approached him.

It’s like he’s shed a layer in her personal space like this, hair tousled from the winter wind kicking up on his way over. Handsome would be the way to describe it, and that very fact has her face flushing, heart pounding in her ears — although not nearly as quick as she anticipates it to be. There’s something domestic about the whole thing in a way she always assumed would remain foreign to her. She’s about to take the carrots to the pot by the stove, but he takes them first.

“What’re you doing?” He shrugs, brings it over to the pot and slides it in.

“Helping.” Ron’s reply is so simple she could strangle him. Daisy scrunches her nose.

“You make it really hard to pay you back, you know that?” He’s crossing that small space to approach her again, lays the cutting board flat on the countertop with a small shrug and quirk of his lip. Daisy’s deciding he gets far too much amusement out of bewildering her in the way he does.

“So don’t pay me back,” Ron counters, with his hand curling around her own on the knife. “Cook us dinner, and let me help.”

“You told me you were no good in the kitchen.”

“I think I can handle a knife.”

“Your affection for pointy things mildly concerns me.” Ron grins at that again, and in their back and forth he’s gotten closer to her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him, identify those flecks of green in the hazel of his eyes. More importantly, she sees how his pupils almost dilate at what she’s just said — and Daisy’s now acutely aware the knife isn’t the only pointy thing in the room.

And not the only thing that holds his affection.

She can feel her heart begin to beat a little quicker, but the rhythm in her chest doesn’t match the one in her ears. She doesn’t even think he realizes she hasn’t quite moved until she tilts her head up to look at him. He’s not flushed like she is, holding her stare and looking her over with what she can only assume is relative ease. Still, the air feels vaguely like it did the last time she drank from him.

Electric.

Daisy leans a bit closer to him, despite that voice in her head screaming for separation. She wants to be closer. Impossibly so. Pressed flush against him and feel the warmth of him. Was it hunger? Or just plain desire. Daisy isn’t especially sure. She lets go of the knife and instead he takes a hold of her hand, squeezing as she tilts her head up and towards him. There’s that pulse beating through his wrist, his hand, as she approaches. Quickening, the only thing matching that pounding in her ears. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

She can hear his heartbeat.

Don’t.

It’s her teeth in his neck before she even realizes she’s gotten close enough to reach him.

That dark taste of his blood spills onto her tongue like spiced liquor, as though it were waiting for her bite. She can’t help the noise muffled by his skin, the whimper that escapes. Ron groans and Daisy thinks her knees might go weak. He’s not even pliant against her, he’s pulling her towards him with steady hands, lowering into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulling her into his lap. His entire body shudders against her and his pulse hammers against her lips once he settles. His fingers weave into her hair, like he’s trying to press her closer to that spot. Liquid fire, water in the desert, sweet and spiced and intoxicating and somehow so very Ron.

His being floods her senses. She lets him.

A ship in Boston Harbor. Girlish laughter. Warmth. Gunpowder. Snow. Dark alleys. Cigarettes. Men’s laughter. Shellings. Running, running, running. Kisses in a back alley. Hands fisting skirts. Whispered sighs. Nothing of the holy man he’s meant to be. His nails digging into her hip pull her back into the present and it takes all the sense she has to pull off him. Ron is panting, and so is she as she stares at him — chests heaving in time.

She can still hear his heartbeat. She’d be able to even if his front wasn’t so shamelessly pressed to hers. She thinks she’d know it even if she were blind.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t—” she stammers, and she’d climb off him were it not for his grip on her, still so sure, so tight. Keeping her in his lap like he meant for her to be there the whole time. Instead, she hides, ducking her head into his shoulder. “This isn’t why I invited you over I— I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t stop.”

The words are so hoarse it barely registers that it’s Ron saying it. Not until she lifts her head to look at him, and gets a good look at what exactly she must’ve done to him.

Only now, is his face flushed, lips parted and hand still in her hair as though he means to caress it.

“What?”

“Don’t stop,” he repeats, firmer now, more coherent. “And don’t apologize, either.” It’s stern, the way he says it. Like the voice that flooded her senses — barking commands, bringing a woman to her peak. Part of her could sink her teeth in right now, but she’s scrambling for some kind of sense, reaching for self-control.

“I- I can’t— that wasn’t, isn’t—”

The hand in her hair pulls her towards him until his mouth is crushing against hers in a way that’s so messy it has her lips parting on a gasp, her hips rolling almost reflexively. The words hunger and desire flash behind her eyelids once more and she pushes it to the back of her mind to focus on the feeling of his lips, of his teeth dragging on her bottom lip to tug at it. He tastes like a cigarette and mint. She can feel it — the scraps of his resolve are crumbling beneath her, how he breaks whatever promises he made to his God with each squeeze of her hip.

He pulls away only after he’s effectively stolen the air from her lungs, his mouth now stained with his own blood.

“Yes, you can, sweetness,” Ron breathes out, his breath fanning over her face. “Bite me. Drink from me. It’s fine. I want it.” His voice toes that line between almost soothing and downright commanding — a line he somehow managed to create.

But that was the thing about him. Intoxicating, baffling, frustrating, she isn’t especially sure how it is he exists in the way he does. But she’s grateful that he does. She says nothing for a few moments, honing into that sound of his heart beating, now nearly in perfect time with her own.

“Not here,” Daisy settles on. “Can you– can you stand? And do stairs?” She doesn’t think she’s taken enough to leave him physically weak, and he nods, loosening his grip so she can climb off him and he can rise to his feet. She doesn’t miss the wobble of his legs and were it not for… everything else she would’ve laughed at how quick he is to turn off the stove and take her hand. Ron lets her lead him up her stairs, towards her room.

The whole time, she wants nothing more than to sink her teeth into him again, or for him to crush her with the weight of his lips. Preferably both.

“The bed. Lay down. More comfortable that way.” She realizes that her own voice is edging on desperate when she opens the door with her foot and lets him go. Which he does, goes so far as to kick off his shoes, backing up and holding her stare from his spot propped on his elbows.

Maybe she’s too quick to follow after him, crawling on top of him and letting her fingers graze the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw.

She leans down, drags her tongue across the spot where she’d bitten him until it’s clean as his hands find purchase on the tops of her thighs beneath her skirt.

“Didn’t want it to go to waste, sweetness?” That nickname, it makes her shudder and in response she drags a tooth along his skin, leaving a pink line of a scratch in its wake.

“You’re not funny.” She huffs.

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ron grunts, “How’re we doing this?” Daisy lifts her head to look at him again.

Desire on others is cloudy, barely coherent, parted lips and mumbled incomprehensible words. Desire on Ron is precise, aware, a sharp-eyed look like he knows exactly what he wants, exactly how he plans to get it. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for him to already know he can have her.

“You’ll feed me,” Daisy breathes out, before searing a kiss of her own to his lips. She swears it's the only thing more intoxicating than the taste of him. “And then I’ll feed you.”

They’re damned. Her for being so terribly greedy and him for desiring her in the way he does. They both know it. But even beneath her now Ron looks nothing like the blushing, scandalized virgin of folktales and films. His eyes are dark and stormy, his fingers are digging into her thighs and he’s staring at her like he’s challenging her to go through with this. Like it’s her final chance to back out of this entirely.

“Bottom’s up, then, sweetness,” Ron teases, but his tone lacks any sort of lilt.

Daisy lowers herself to his neck to drink her fill, as that low groan of his lights a fire in her belly that had laid dormant for far too long.

#ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs x ofc #ron x daisy #vampire au #band of brothers au #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war au

[radiance1]

The GIW succeeded in passing an under the radar law that described ghosts as non-sentient beings. Leading to the Government cracking down on Amity Park and capturing any ghosts they saw.

Danny saved who he could, telling them not to come back to Amity Park for their own safety. That being said, he couldn't save everyone, not as Phantom and especially not as Fenton.

He didn't like to think on it much.

Thankfully it seemed that Halfas had it a bit better than pure ghosts, being seen as semi-sentient due to their human half. But it still wasn't enough for his parents to think he was safe in Amity, so instead of staying in Amity Park they decided to move him.

Which proved to be a far faster process than they thought it would be, because his identity was leaked to the government, as for how they knew? They overheard Wes Weston trying to convince someone of his theory and ran with it.

So now Danny and Jazz had to be quickly relocated to Gotham, and yes, they love you Danny, but with his track record they need Jazz to act as an assurance he wouldn't go out 'heroing' and stay on the down low.

Jack and Maddie stayed behind to negotiate the Anti-Ecto acts.

Jack told the two of them to meet at this specific coffee shop in Gotham, because he already asked for someone he knew to come and pick them up, which confused them because who would he know in Gotham?

But, on the way to said coffee shop, Danny and Cujo (who Danny brought along because he was not leaving him behind in Amity of all places now.) was kidnapped by a giant crocodile man.

Right under Jazz's nose too. She only realized when she reached said coffee shop, safe to say she wasn't pleased. The coffee shop seemed to be entirely booked by one man, with multiple people acting as 'guards' so to speak, not that Jazz couldn't take care of them but she preferred to avoid violence if she could.

The person she and Danny were supposed to meet turned out to be one Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin, a black sheep of the Fentinightingles and Jack's friend. (I CANNOT for the LIFE of me remember where I saw this idea, but if you ever come across this post know that YOU yes YOU were the one who helped the crafting of this idea)

Oswald: Where's the other one.

Jazz: A giant crocodile kidnapped him.

Oswald: Say what.

Meanwhile Danny got himself comfortable in the sewers of Gotham with Cujo as he stared up at a 9 foot tall man who goes by Killer Croc, who looks increasingly unsure, regretful and sorrowful of his decision to kidnap Danny.

Danny finds out that his actual name is Waylon Jones, and that the sole reason he was kidnapped was because he thought him to be his long-lost dead brother.

Danny: Oh so you're my dead uncle!

Waylon: Say what now-

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jack and Waylon are brothers #They both thought the other died in their childhood #Oswald Cobblepot is a fentonightingle #He and Jack are some of the black sheeps and decided to band together in their teen years when they met at a family gathering #I don't know who had this au but I THANK YOU FOR MAKING IT!

[roadtogracelandx45]

He hadn’t seen her since they were forced to break up by her strict grandparents and now he is being thrown in undercover to try and bring down the Nixon crime family.

He has to work his way back into her heart and her life even if it means breaking his own heart again

Joseph Leibgott/ Olivia Stewart

Au what if mafia story tied into Are You Going My Way

ao3

ff.net

wattpad

part one

part two

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers au #band of brothers mafia #Leibgott x Olivia #Princess and the taxi driver