#my very first joe

[somedaytakethetime]

Joe Burrow's hands appreciation post?

Joe Burrow's hands appreciation post.

[espueon]

THE BOYS but it's only Jeffrey and Karl Joe and Butcher (1/?)

[hotasfahrenheit]

[My Stand-In 1.09] | [DPR Ian - Limbo]

don't waste your tears on somebody you can't even save throw me down to the wolves it's where i belong see you on the other side where our worlds will collide take what's yours just leave me in two pieces i left my heart down in the basement where all the ravens take their turn picking at what's left of me i took you out of my existence only to crawl back into your arms knowing how much it will take away do you think we are really dreaming? can someone tell me where i am? i'm running out of sand i took you out of my existence only to crawl back into your arms knowing it will make me go insane

[clairedaring]

The fact Joe's name comes up in the conversation of Ming and Tong though. Ming knows about his role when he's talking with Tong. And Ming kinda supports it. And you tell me he didn't care. Tell me. People don't see him they way I see him.

YOU GET IT NONNIE ಥ_ಥ

also we have to take into account that ming knows about joe's role in a conversation with tong AFTER tong finds out his brother in law fucking his stuntman and seems to be not so happy about it (as if ming gives any fucks really).

i promise you nonnie i will make that gifset for the scene where ming said 'why didn't you tell me you got to play an important scene'. BECAUSE THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE.

no... but like the way ming was like 'why would i be mad at you'... this kid does not give a fuck of the inner politics of this acting agency (even if it has to do with his brother in law lmao)

ming even teases joe about being a celeb soon like joe's colleagues even though the role joe had received for the next project was just a supporting role.

[howlonomy]

Ms. 15.5%

[kofolacitrus]

I just realized I've never made a proper mafia 2 fanart yet, so I decided to change it, since my summer holiday finally began 🌻

[kurokoros]

still mad that we didn't get Vecna possessing Steve. haha silly Steve who asks stupid questions and everyone dunks on as if he's not an athlete and one of the better combatants in the group. Steve, who knocked out a trained soldier at 19. Steve, who has been beaten to hell every season and gotten right back up afterwards. just goofy old Steve.

but what if Steve wasn't actually Steve anymore?

[alexcabotgf]

not to be true crime posting on main but i think i'm falling down the wm3 rabbit hole again

[a-strange-inkling]

We fight here in her name,

She will not die in vain,

She will not be betrayed.

[petrichoraline]

i just dreamt of snuggling with ming and it was the best cuddle session ever so I will not be hearing ANY slander against this man whose show i've never seen

[ongreenergrasses]

in the jar

"Nicolò," Yusuf said, and then trailed off.

Nicolò rubbed the blood out of his eyes. "They will not take you from me," he said, and held out his hand.

[terresdebrume]

I started writing this at work because I didn't get any prompt for my flash fic drive yesterday but I still wanted to do a little something, and this is what came out. On the upside, it's longer than my usual flash ficlets so. Yay for my first completed Webgott work :P

Bedtime Stories

They're in bed, settled in for an early evening with the blankets high under their chins. David is half draped over Joe's chest, because he likes having his head in the crook of Joe's neck and also because Joe likes the extra warmth—it's toasty, like this, and David has sweat gliding down his neck, but he enjoys this too much to let it go. Spending their winter evenings like this—him, finishing the day's crosswords in the San Francisco Chronicles, listening to Joe's heartbeat while Joe's fingers run through his hair and make an absolute nest out of it, the latest best seller in his free hand to keep the memories of Bastogne he rarely talks about at bay—very few things in the world compare to this. David will take all the sweat in the world and then some to keep this. He's comfortable, and warm, and beloved, and he's inches from sleep when he feels Joe's breathing speed up.

David looks up, frowning, but Joe's face doesn't look the way he does when the ghosts of the war catch up with him. He is frowning though, shoulders tensing under David's cheek, and David puts his pencil down, reaching up to cup Joe's cheek in his hand. Joe, his eyes still fixed on the book, doesn't pay attention to him until David starts fiddling with the branches of his reading glasses. He takes the kind of deep breath that comes after losing oneself between the pages of a good book, the release of deep focus and tension melting him further against the headboard.

"Am I bothering you, your highness?" He asks, and David puts on the haughtiest air he can muster:

"Yes, as a matter of fact. It's quite the racket in there. Good scene?"

Joe hums, contemplating, and twists until he can land a kiss in the palm of David's hand. He stays there for a moment or two, quiet enough that David wonders if maybe he's gotten lost in thoughts, until he says:

"I'd say efficient, more than good. I don't know that I like it."

David makes a questioning noise. He hasn't followed the plot of Joe's book very closely—Joe started it while David was rushing to meet three separate deadlines and had no mind to remember the details of some rich excentric man's birthday plans. Worse: the book is apparently the sequel to a children's story that David hasn't read, and overall seemed to expect its readers to care quite a bit more about genealogy than David is prepared to. He does nod when Joe asks if he remembers what happened last.

"They're at the inn now, right? With the uh. Ranger man."

Joe snorts, and David has known and loved him long enough by now to hear the implied 'literature studies and that's how you describe a plot. Pathetic.' A few years ago, David would have taken offense at that, but he's too comfortable for bickering tonight, so instead he makes a conceding hum and tilts his head up until Joe rolls his eyes and kisses him.

"Read it to me?" He asks after they pull apart some time later.

"'As they prepared for sleep in the inn at Bree, darkness lay on Buckland. A mist strayed in the dells and along the riverbank. The house at Crickhollow stood silent. Fatty Bolger opened the door cautiously and peered out.'"

Joe has a good reading voice, despite his protests. It's not the kind of voice they'd pick for the job on the radio, but the way he puts gravitas into the narration would put George Luz and his impressions to shame. It's easy for David to relax back down against him and try to imagine what a character named Fatty Bolger might look like.

"'A feeling of fear had been growing on him all day,'" Joe continues, "'and he was unable to rest or go to bed. There was a brooding threat, in the breathless night air. As he stared out into the gloom, a black shadow moved under the trees.'"

David's heart beat picks up just as Joe's does, his spine stiffening with the memory of countless guard rotations—the fight against exhaustion, the knowledge that in the dark every shadow could spell his death. The terror shooting through him with every crack of a branch or rustle of a leaf.

"'The gate seemed to open of its own accord, and close again without a sound,'" Joe continues, his free hand moving from David's head down to his shoulder. "'Terror seized him. He shrank back, and for a moment he stood trembling in the hall... then he shut and locked he door.'"

David's hand abandons its position on Joe's cheek and goes to grip Joe's hand instead. There is a tremor in his knees: the dull shock of landing on damp grass in the night, machine guns roaring in the distance—the rush of getting the 'chute off, pulling his rifle into position. Staring frantically into the pitch darkness of Normandy and desperately resisting the urge to shoot at the first thing that moves.

"'The night deepened,'" Joe continues, the rhythm of his ribcage against David's back speeding up again, his voice growing more tense by the second. "'There came the soft sound of horses led with stealth along the lane. Outside the gate, they stopped, and three black figures entered, like shades of night creeping across the ground. One went to the door.'"

Another night, another building to clear. Rushing to the door, trying to think about what to do—grenade, wait, rush in—rather than what could be waiting there.

"'One to the corner of the house on either side, and there they stood, as still as the shadows of stone while the night went slowly on. The house and the quiet trees seemed to be waiting breathlessly.'"

The dissonance between the quiet and the fear. The knowledge that peace was still there, just out of reach behind gossamer curtains.

"'There was a faint stir in the leaves, and a cock crowed far away. The cold hour before dawn was passing.'"

Waiting in a ditch, with dozens of better armed men a scant few feet away from realizing they could hose the lot of them down in less than a minute. Dreading the only orders Winters could possibly give in that situation, and knowing there would be nothing for it but to execute them anyway.

"'The figure by the door moved. In the dark without a moon or stars, a drawn blade gleamed, as if a chill light had been unsheathed. There was a blow—'"

Something knocks against the front door, and David jumps so hard his head collides with Joe's chin, whose yelp echoes in the little bedroom. They sit together for a moment, the fingers of their clasped hands tight around each other as they slow their breathing down as best as they can. There's another knock, and this time David only flinches before he straightens up. He glances at Joe behind him and finds him pale and drawn, the familiar furrow of his anger cutting deep between his eyebrows as he grips David's hand tighter than ever.

"I'll get it," David says as their landlady starts calling for them at the door.

He brings Joe's hand to his lips and presses a kiss on the back of it, just so he can remind himself where he is—where they are—before he makes his way through the tiny apartment, vaguely combing through his hair until he opens the door. Mrs. Obradovic startles, and immediately falls into a concerned frown:

"Is everything alright my dear? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

The truth of it is both much sillier and infinitely more serious than Mrs. Obradovic thinks, but David doesn't feel up to baring his soul to his octogenarian proprietor, no matter how kindly she is, so he makes himself laugh.

"I almost thought I did. How may I help you?"

She points down to a small bag on the floor.

"Josep finally came home with the coal," she says, still visibly concerned. "I'd have waited until tomorrow, but I know your Joe doesn't do well with the cold."

"Thank you, Mrs. Obradovic," David says, sincere through the headiness of calming down after an abrupt fright. "You're an angel."

"Nonsense, nonsense. Now, you boys have a good night, and let me know if you need anything else, yes?"

"We will. Thank you again," David says, and finds himself giving her a warmer smile than he normally does, touched by her continued concern over Joe's well being.

He closes the door behind her, locks it, and deals with the coal before he makes his way back to the bedroom, dusting his hands off as he walks. The book is back on Joe's bedside table when he enters, red eye staring at David from the wide black circle on the cover, and the spindly red runes almost feel like they're about to start moving. On the bed, Joe is no longer as pale as the novel's cover, which David decides to take as a good sign as he crawls up onto Joe's lap and takes his face between his hands.

"So," he says, pressing his forehead against Joe's and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. "I see what you meant by efficient."

"Yeah."

There is a brief silence, and then Joe sighs and goes soft between David's palms, pliant like he is after nightmares finally let go of him, usually several hours past dawn. David draws him in and nuzzles his nose, dipping in to plant little kisses on Joe's cheeks. On his hips, he feels Joe's fingers tighten again, almost to the point of bruising, until Joe's arms wrap around his waist and pull him in tight.

"Fuck," Joe says eventually, the slip into German more familiar now that David finally convinced him there was no reason to punish himself for what the Nazis did. "Fuck, it's just a fucking book."

"Well, at least you're not the one who nearly broke his lover's nose over it."

That startles a laugh out of Joe, and he tilts his head up to kiss David's lips. They don't kiss like that often—usually, Joe prefers to tug David downward to negate their height difference. But David likes it when he gets to kiss Joe from above, likes the opportunity to cradle his face with his hands, the excuse to treat Joe like the precious thing he is without being accused of thinking he's fragile. They lose themselves in the kiss for several long minutes, and by the end David is almost back to the the mellow state he was in before they started reading.

"Right," Joe says, picking up the book from the bedside table and tossing it to the other end of the room, "Goodbye, Tolkien."

"I don't know," David says, eyes drawn to where the first few letters of 'Fellowship' shimmer in the dim light of Joe's bedside lamp, "I'm intrigued now."

"Intrigued?" Joe repeats, incredulous. "You nearly shat yourself."

"Yeah, well, so did you," David shoots back, soothing the sting with a kiss on Joe's nose. "What can I say, I'm braver about fiction than reality."

"Like I didn't know that," Joe scoffs, and David rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious, Liebling. I'm going to read it."

"Right."

"Just...maybe not at night," David admits, and Joe's face goes from gently mocking to purely fond as he squeezes his arms around David's waist.

"Don't worry," he says, visibly going for a joking tone, "I'll hug you better if you scare yourself."

Joke's on him, though, because that's exactly what David was angling for.

ETA: Cleaned up (and longer!) Version now available on AO3!

[skizz-that-man]

i'm still hung up on how every single time scar is in a group conversation about the charity stream he only talks about grian. "i'm glad grian got to ..." "did you go to olive garden for grian"

it's all he thinks about. grian. grian closer to him in physical distance than ever but still so so so far away. all those things grian wanted to do, maybe wanted to do with scar, maybe scar wanted to do with him. all those plans they had that they didnt get to do

[bucketspammer4life]

the boxers during christmas

merry crisis! ❤️ i am mentally losing it!

Glass Joe

- baking gingerbread men themed after the other boxers

- went iceskating and accidentally got a medal

- going ornament shopping for the christmas tree

- baking up a feast for everyone, hes trying to get on the nice list this year hes got enough coal to fuel 30 trains

Von Kaiser

- reading christmas stories for Mac next to the fireplace

- attempted to bake and accidentally set himself on fire, hes banned from the kitchen now

- scolding anyone messing with the advent calendar

Disco Kid

- keeps doing a mariah carey impression and screaming "ITS TIME!!!"

- making a christmas playlist for everyone

- decorating the place on the least safe ladder ever, its shaky, rusty, old and on the verge of breaking down just like the average old person!

King Hippo

- eating all the advent calendar chocolate in one sitting

- bit a christmas tree ornament since he thought it looked nice

- ate the missletoe since he mistaked it for berries (i am not spelling that right send help)

- hes just hibernating until the new year

Piston Hondo

- making hot cocoa for everyone

- caught a cold but faking it to not break the holiday spirit

- slowly going insane because of Disco Kid blasting christmas music

Bear Hugger

-chopped down a entire ass tree just for decorating it, unfortunately some of the boxers have some allergies (*COUGH COUGH* joe - *COUGH COUGH*) so it didnt go great

- buying dumb hats for everyone

- making some cranberry juice for the group

- mrs bear came over to have dinner with them at one point, She even brought some decorations and food!! How kind of her!!

Great Tiger

- broke some bones while climbing a wall to decorate the roof, ouch

- Really feeling the cranberry juice, thats some good shit

- the christmas lights make him a bit dizzy but trying to tough it out

Don Flamenco

- setting up missletoes EVERYWHERE. oh you want to have some cookies? Just move past the missletoe IN THE KITCHEN!! Need to shower? just ignore the missletoe in the shower cabin and you'll be set! YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE KISSING!!

- watching christmas movies and getting all joyful before getting another christmas ornament thrown at him by aran

- "Ah, isnt christmas so wonderful?– (BONK)"

Aran Ryan

- chucking christmas ornaments at everyone, he thinks it makes a funny sound

- hes getting coal this year 100%

- eating raw dough as usual (but in a festive way)

Soda Popinski

- hes just planning go sleep during the countdown so he can say "ive slept for a year!!"

- adding gingerbread & cinnamon to EVERYTHİNG. Soda pls stop eating omelettes with cinnamon

- keeps making shitty puns

Bald Bull

- doing the dissapointment mom sigh anytime someone makes a christmas pun

- scolding Disco for the shitty ladder hes using

- freezing his ass off but trying to pretend nothing is going on

Super Macho Man

- Just taking pictures for his posts

- overdecorating everythin:, bright lights, shiny decorations and enough snowmen to make an army

- adding too much sugar to his hot choco

Mr Sandman

- wearing a silly little christmas sweater & santa hat, hes a bit jolly, whimsy even

- had the bright idea of dressing up Mac as a elf

- went on a emergency ingredient run after Joe ran out of frosting & flour

[josephtrohman]

this has so many levels. like if it was JUST atavan halen or JUST patrick on drums it would be bad enough. but it's both and i need to start killing people