#webgott time loop

[youcalledmebabe]

happy webgott wednesday

[shelyue99]

From Eion Bailey’s interview with Ross Owen Show

Eion’s take on Webster: Webster is stuck between two worlds. He wanted to be a regular guy. He didn’t like college men, the privileged did not have to fight, but the poor and the social-economically repressed were the ones to be shipped out to fight. He didn’t think it’s right so he dropped out Harvard to fight with them. But at the same time he was not accepted in the way he hoped. People still looked at him as the privileged Harvard college boy. So the whole war he was looking for acceptance and he was feeling isolated. He wanted people to give him credits.

Eion Bailey liked to challenge Dale Dye and they had an antagonistic relationship at the bootcamp, but ultimately they found respect in each other.

He loved the bootcamp because he could experience military without really being in the military and exposing his life to danger (this sounds so Webster)

He and Matthew Settle (Speirs) burned the paratrooper boots the last day when they wrapped up the shooting. He kept the jacket and the helmet from the set.

Eion’s grandfathers were both pilots during WWII. One is with the Air Force and flew with Flying Tiger, the other is in the navy and fought in the pacific.

Eion didn’t know any other actors before the bootcamp. He is close with Matthew Settle, Richard Speight Jr, Scott Grimes, Damian Lewis to a degree, and Ross McCall.

On how Eion and Ross McCall worked out their characters. Eion said he and Ross had an easy rapport. it’s like Liebgott and Webster had a good rapport but in a strange way, it’s combative. They test each other but have mutual respect. They are from different worlds but see eye to eye. Liebgott saw in Webster on the surface that he is a highbrow intellectual, but actually he is honest, truthful, authentic, and for the cause. (This part is so Webgott)

Tom Hardy is a replacement and when he arrived, the other guys were already very close. They told Tom Hardy you are gonna be messed with. When Tom hardy arrived at his hotel room, it was already trashed, all the sheets, blankets were thrown out from the window. There were pillow cases in the toilet so it couldn’t flush (This occured during the shooting in Switzerland)

Eion Bailey said he was worried before the USO tour because he was afraid he would be perceived as the “phony actor” and not the real deal, but they were very well received. The military channel there has been playing BoB on loop.

[dylaneon]

mystery spot

webgott supernatural/mystery spot au , 10k words , rated T

“Quit it.” Webster snaps, “Would you listen to me for two goddamn seconds?”

“Alright, alright. I’m listening. So, what? You think you’re stuck in some sort of,” He gestures with his hands, “Time loop?”

“Yes! Like Groundhog Day.”

“When did you watch Groundhog Day? You know I love that movie. When did you watch something that wasn’t one of your shitty renditions of your shitty old bo-”

“Joe.”

“Sorry.” Liebgott throws his hands up in surrender, “You know this sounds crazy, right?"

read on AO3

[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.

[bitch-butter]

hello! can i request "You didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing to apologize for" for any ship of your choosing? or any AU you want? i just really love how your writing flows, it's so cohesive-- don't take this the wrong way but like. i adore sitting down and actually analyzing your stuff structurally? seeing how it works and weaves together to make a whole just makes the shriveled up eng lit major inside me really happy.

w o o f this one ran away from me a little bit, it incorporates some Things I was thinking of re: forgiveness/webgott last month, and it's bit different than pure H/C but I hope you find something to like in it! Thank you for your lovely compliment~

Yes, it's webgott bc i am chained to The Rhythm

4. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."

He cleared the drawer once more, eyes scanning into its dark corners for any sign of a missed sock, undershirt, some hidden treasure that he had many years ago deemed worthy of being put in the back of the underwear drawer. Raising his brows, Joe shook his head at himself as he closed it resolutely, tossing his bounty into his pack and stuffing the top with the sack that contained his bathroom shit.

Even remembering the days he used to be able to leave the house with just his keys made him want to sigh like a goddamn cow in the summertime. Now he needs the bag, the car, and Web just to go across the bay.

Speak of the devil, Web padded into the bedroom with his usual September expression: weary, exhilarated, slightly frustrated. Wordlessly, he crossed past Joe to the bed and slumped face-first onto it with a groan.

“Done?” Joe questioned, zipping up the bag.

Making a soft grunt of a sound, Web curled his arms around his head. “Done,” he said, face mashed against the bed.

“Well, get to it,” Joe said, stepping over to land a light smack against Web’s ass and grinning at the outraged whine he got in response. “Don’t want to be late,” he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped back out to the hall, making for the kitchen.

Even out here he can hear the sound Web makes, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“No you didn’t!” Joe called back, grabbing the butter left on the counter and shoving it in the fridge, letting his eyes make one final sweep around the kitchen. “If you don’t show your reputation won’t ever recover.”

“Your mother loves me,” Web toned, and Joe couldn’t help a snicker as he moved through the hall back to the bedroom, where Web had at least moved to lay on his back, knees up. “She wouldn’t care, she’d probably let me move in with her if you ever kicked me out.”

Rolling his eyes, Joe stood at the food of the bed, arms folded. “Not with Yom Kippur, you’re not allowed to fuck around. She was happy you said you wanted to come, you don’t want to disappoint her.”

Heaving out a long breath, Web folded his hands behind his head, eyes lowered as he peered down at Joe. His knees tilted just so, his lips quirking, and Joe could see the fucking thought forming in his head before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“No.”

“We have time,” Web said, extending one leg to poke his toes into the left side of Joe’s stomach.

Clicking his tongue, he took hold of the other man’s ankle, giving it a soft pull and smiling in satisfaction as Web tried to pull it back to no avail. “If you think I’m going to miss my last fucking meal just to fuck you then you have another thing coming, alright?”

With a disgruntled twist of his lips Web pulled his leg in again, a little jerk that ushered Joe down onto the mattress as well. “You weren’t this dedicated last year,” he noted lightly, free of the reproach that might have accompanied the words if his family had said them.

Shaking his head, Joe decided to throw Web a bone and settled beside him, at least staying up on his elbows. “Different places,” he said simply.

Web looked up at him fondly, hand coming up to smooth over Joe’s hairline, sweeping it back and trailing behind his ear. “So, how will we spend tonight, then?” he asked quietly, eyes still following along where his hand moved. “If not in bed.”

Breath going slow with the contact, he tilted his head into the touch contentedly. “Well, tonight we’re going to eat like kings, Rach will probably be trying to get drunk in the pantry and hoping nobody notices, we’ll sleep in the attic, then tomorrow we spend a lot of fucking time at the synagogue.”

“And we don’t eat,” Web stated, assured.

“No eating, no drinking,” Joe nodded, brow furrowing at the sight of an eyelash on the other man’s cheek, reaching for it mindlessly.

Humming, Web closed his eyes to accommodate him. “Does this have a corresponding Catholic holiday I can retrofit in my mind?”

“I don’t know, you guys got a day where you feel really guilty about everything?” he asked, presenting the lash to Web balanced on the tip of his finger.

Blinking, Web frowned thoughtfully. “Birthdays.”

“Make your wish, you prick,” Joe grumbled, holding back his smile as Web grinned up at him, pausing momentarily before blowing the lash away into the room. Indulgently, he moved in closer, cupping the warmth of Web’s face in his palm and looking down on him with a feeling as close to serenity as he ever has here, in their bed, the sunlight coming in through their window.

Web returned his gaze, his own hand tracing along the back of Joe’s neck. “Do you confess?”

“Sure.”

“Alone?”

“All together,” he corrected, absently rubbing at the spot on Web’s cheek where he had plucked the lash. “You recite it, while you do this,” he said, shifting gently to bring his hand down to Web’s chest, knocking gently against him, just above his heart, with a loose fist.

Web watched his fist, a bemused smile growing over his lips. “Why?”

Settling his hand over the spot, Joe rubbed gently at him. “To punish your heart.”

Smile stilling over his face, Web absorbed his words with quiet interest, eyes floating down along Joe’s neck to the dark burrow of his chest where it pressed against the bed. “Isn’t the sinning hurt enough?”

Trust Web to try to loop him into a conversation about semantics of all fucking things. He must be more anxious to start his classes than Joe thought. “I don’t know,” he half-shrugged, eyes on his own hand over Web’s heart. “If you’re the sort who doesn’t like hurting people, maybe.”

Web nodded, accepting, smile turning more wistful, thoughtful “That’s nice, to be able to get it all out of the way at once.”

“What, you turned in a paper late?” Joe teased.

Flicking behind Joe's ear, Web looked up at him balefully, just a touch of that familiar humor at the edge of his mouth, like a dimple made of light. “I’d apologize to you, obviously.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh, Joe looked discerningly down at him. “You got something you want to tell me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Web shook his head softly, hand curling around his neck once more and seeming to anchor him down even further, their faces close enough to see the earnest upset around the angles of the other man’s eyes. “You know.”

Web does this. Likes to see monsters where there are none, invent storm clouds heading for them, and it makes him behave like a child sometimes and a man others. He’s a contrarian, down even past his bones and into the dust of the universe that lived in his being, it is an unchangeable fact. Telling him that there’s nothing to worry about accomplished nothing at the best of times.

Not that it’s ever stopped him trying.

“You don’t have to apologize to me for a fucking thing,” Joe rebuked solidly, hand moving from Web’s heart to his head, fingers resting just north of the delicate point of his hairline. “Sincerely.”

“I do, I…” Web parried, eyes unyielding where they looked up into Joe’s, somehow free of the sort of conflict he contained when he started thinking he and Joe had different opinions. “I know that this isn’t easy, dealing with me. And you do,” he continued, and this close he can see the way his eyes are stuck on his lips, the thought filling him with affection. “And you’re amazing.”

Giving in, chest bowing in like the hull of a sinking ship, he caught Web’s lips with his own, a hot smack of a thing that stole his breath, gave it to Web, who in turn gave it back to him better, better. “You don’t have to apologize for living, doll,” he shook his head, their nose practically knocking. “That’s not the point.”

Web didn’t seem soothed by the kiss, still appearing occupied with some train of thought that sought to carry him off and away from Joe’s eyes. “I still think of it sometimes, you know.”

Joe frowned. “What?”

“That day,” Web said, as though it should be evident.

He has to pause and think. They’ve lived a lot of days together, not just these ones that they’ve spent in this apartment, but the ones they spent as voices over the phone, words on a page, men in uniforms hiding from each other like chameleons. How is he meant to know which day Web means from the thousands they’ve had?

Looking down, the blue of Web’s eyes reminds him absently of Austrian skies. Mountains.

Yes. He knows.

“I think sometimes I should apologize to you and never stop,” Web said gently, managing to keep hold of Joe’s eyes as they blinked back and forth and back and forth into the memory.

He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. Which isn’t to say he never does, but it’s been a time. If he concentrates he can still feel the sun on his neck, the unnatural sweatiness of his palms, how his face had somehow felt cold, waxy. Picturing the house, the dark guts of it with the man inside squirming like half-digested meat, still fills him with the primal sort of rage that only visits him in his dreams. All around the periphery of the memory is Web, that day he had decided that whoever David Webster was he wanted no part of it.

“It’s in the past,” he excused weakly.

Web pulled in a short breath, face carefully open. “I know it is.”

“So let it be.”

Frown deepening, Web’s brought his eyes back down, and even this small departure felt like shrapnel. Joe combed through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, jostling him enough to win his eyes back. Web opened his mouth, struggling, before settling into the intention. “Do you still think about it?”

“Of course,” he said dully, voice still caught somewhere in his memory.

“Do you ever think I owe you an apology?” Web asked, voice quiet and eyes steady.

The question drops through him like rain. He’s thought of that day hundreds of times, thousands. When he lets his mind walk back up that hill, shining in the sun like the cover of the storybooks his mother would read to him, it isn’t Web he’s thinking of. He thinks of a forest of trees, of the way that one can become millions, and those millions become legion. That day had been about a lot of things, he hadn’t ever intended for Web to be one of them.

Web has apologized to him in too many ways to count. But this memory is deeper than they are, the kind of wound that might close over but will still carry a piece of metal, even smaller than a sliver, nestled inside of them both.

Web gives him grief, for better and for worse. But he gives him peace, too. That’s all the apology he wants.

His silence has drifted over the room like fog, but Web looks at him with the sort of clarity that only a few years ago made him feel like a bug on a pin, but now simply makes him feel known.

“I’ll punish my heart for forgiveness tomorrow,” Web said softly, smile turning up his lips, hand against Joe’s neck.

Huffing, Joe shook his head, taking up Web’s mouth once more, briefly. “You have it,” he rasped, kissing just the corner of his lips, and then the soft heat of his cheek. “You’ve had it.”

Web smiled into the kiss, leaning up to press a matching one to Joe’s own cheek. “Good.”

Swallowing, he followed Web back down, their faces close. “Will you accept mine?”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled up Web’s throat, his head giving a dismissive shake as he gave Joe’s neck a hard rub. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he criticized, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

But they haven’t always been that lucky. This sort of luck isn’t a permanent state of being.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, before pausing momentarily. “Let’s say you forgive me for the first sin I haven’t committed yet.”

Laughing, Web took his hand from Joe’s skin, holding it up beside them in some offering. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Joe confirmed, taking his hand, giving it one firm shake, enough to gather up Web’s laugh, before bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across its back. “Now come on, let’s go.”

[trashbag-baby666]

Holiday Break-Webgott

And I am now late to my thanksgiving special as usual! Also part four of the How To Mess Up With a Soulmate series!

Thanksgiving break had come upon Joe, David, Genes, and Babes apartment. Gene wasn't a celebrator of the average thanksgiving as his Pagan thanksgiving was in September. But Babe roped him into flying down from Cambridge to Philly to see his family.

While Web practically begged at Joes feet to go to thanksgiving dinner with him at his parents house. They'd moved back up here after Web started at Harvard.

"Please Joe it'll be fine!" David signed as they both dressed for the day.

"I've only met your parents like a total of four times and it was just because we happened to be at your house while they weren't on vacation." Joe stopped folding clothes and sighed.

"Plus if things get too bad we can just come home," David smiled and walked over to their bed placing a kiss on Joes forehead. Joe blushed and wrapped his arms around Webs waist pulling him into the bed next to him.

"I swear if your mom says anything stupid I'm going to actually leave," Joe signed and smiled connecting their hands together. Joe kissed David's knuckles and smiled.

"Oh shit we have green bean casserole in the oven," David jumped up and Joe didn't catch a word but shook his head. He put their clothes away and knew they'd be leaving soon.

Joe groaned and laid his head back as they pulled up the huge driveway of the Webster's house but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't like a mansion.

He dragged his hands over his face and yawned.

David sighed as he parked in the circle drive.

"It's going to be okay, I promise." David signed then held out his pinky. Joe smiled and linked it.

"I'm a little scared but let's get this over with," Joe smiled and opened the door climbing out of David's car. David opened the trunk and Joe grabbed out the casserole and followed David in.

As he stepped into the grand house it smelled of ginger bread. Joe looked around at the high ceilings, white modern decor. Sure it was flashy and cool but he'd rather be at his Ma's house on the ocean eating her turkey.

"Oh David!" His mom came flooding down the hall and hugged him. Joe had to take a step back so the casserole didn't spill.

"Mom this is Joe," David signed and motioned to him before taking the casserole from Joes hands.

"Oh can you tell him it's a pleasure to finally meet," she smiled at David.

"Mom he can read lips," David sighed. Joe waved at her and nodded.

"Okay, well your dads in his office but I'll take casserole of the kitchen so Howard can warm it up." She smiled taking the casserole.

"Wow this is going great," Joe signed and smirked.

"It'll be okay," David smiled and kissed his cheek.

"So who's Howard?" Joe asked as they walked to the living room.

"Our chef," David laughed as he signed. They walked into the living room and sat down David sitting almost on top of Joe.

His mom came back from the kitchen with some photo albums.

"I thought I'd show Joe some of your baby pictures David," she smiled. Joe smirked and nudged David.

"Well I'd love to see those," Joe signed and moved over to the couch next to David's mom. Giggling at the pictures of David in the bathtub.

"Mom," David whined moving over to sit by them.

"These are so good Mrs. Webster!" Joe signed.

"He said he likes them Mom," David sighed, "Oh no not these!"

David tried to grab the photo album from Joe. Joe slapped his hand and laughed as he turned the page and it was David when he did Gymnastics briefly when he was in middle school.

"David! You never told me," Joe fumbled his signing as he laughed.

David's dad came in like on cue and cleared his throat. David and his mom going silent and looking at him.

"David who is this?" He pointed at Joe.

"Harold don't be rude, this is David's boyfriend remember? He was coming for thanksgiving." She sighed leaning over the back of the couch to look at him.

David tapped Joes wrist and signed whay just happened to keep him in the loop.

"Oh, so why don't we eat then." He chewed his lip.

"Okay," David nodded and set the photo album on the coffee table. He stood up and took Joes hand.

Sure his mom was easy to be around but his dad was a whole different story.

David could feel himself sweating through his button up. Joe stopped David half way to the living room.

"Why did everything get so tense?" He signed looking at David, "David whats going on here?" Joe mouthed David's name.

"Just everything is going to be fine, we can talk when we get home okay?" David signed not voicing any of it.

"Okay," Joe sighed and followed David into the dining room. There was a gold plated chandelier and everything was white.

Joe sat down next to David and the Webster family cook served them. It felt wrong was the only way Joe could feel.

His family was lower middle class. They were comfortable but sometimes it was hard to scrape money together for bills. Let alone new hearing aids for Joe and extra spending money to give to the siblings.

They awkwardly plated food for themselves and ate in silence.

Joe glanced at David every so often.

"So David how are your classes going?" Mrs. Webster broke the silence.

"I'm doing good, Gene has been helping me study." David nodded, "Joes the best when it comes to powering through late night studying."

Joe glanced between David and the look Mr. Webster was giving him.

"David I hope you're not distracting yourself from your study's by living with friends." Mr Webster began.

"Do not start with this Howard. David is happy can you not see that." Mrs Webster's hands flew up.

"What's going on?" Joe signed grabbing David's attention.

"I think we should go..." David signed as David's dad began to say things about Joe that David didn't even want to hear.

David stood up from the table and pulled on Joes wrist to get him up.

"No you need to tell me what's going on! I'm Deaf not stupid, you can't just shut me out from whatever is going on." Joe hissed his signing clipped and angered.

"We'll talk about it in the car, thank you mom for everything!" David signed and pulled Joe out with him to the car. Joe pushed at him the whole way home trying to get him to open up about the short and tense visit. But David couldn't budge, he didn't want to tell Joe what his dad thought about him.

He didn't want to hurt Joe.

Joe sat at the table scrolling through his phone taking occasional drinks of a bitter White Claw. They were David's but Babe had drank everything else in the apartment or taken it to his parents house this weekend.

David came out of their room going to the kitchen for another cup of tea.

He glanced at Joe in the dim light of his phone screen. He sighed putting the tea kettle back on the burner and turning it back on.

Joe got up and walked to the kitchen grabbing another White Claw from the fridge.

David sighed putting out his arm stopping Joe.

"What?" He moved his hand briskly letting out a groan.

"I can't let us go to bed angry. Remember we agreed to not do that anymore?" David signed as he shut the fridge.

"Okay then tell me what happened today." Joe waited patiently leaning against the fridge. Then David's tea kettle steamed and he sighed turning his attention to the tea.

He put a new tea bag in and poured out the water into the mug. A ceramic mug with little candy hearts painted on it. Joe had made it for David when they were in high school together.

David started walking towards their room and Joe groaned, following him.

They both sat across from each other on the bed and sipped on his tea.

"So?" Joe mouthed.

"My dad thinks you're a phase of my life." He began, "Wont except that you're my soulmate. That you're my fucking boyfriend." He set his mug on the night stand.

"I thought him seeing us together would change his opinion. But I guess he thinks I'm throwing my life away to chase you and play interpreter for all our friends." David sniffled looking down before looking back up and picking up his hands again.

"I just. He doesn't get it and I don't want it to be like that. I wanted him to except and love us the way my mom does." David rubbed his eyes gingerly.

"It's okay," Joe signed and then tackled David into a hug. Peppering kisses all over his face. They pulled apart and laughed David kissing Joes knuckles.

"So you're my personal interpreter?" Joe giggled.

"I guess I am," David smiled and Joe wiped Webs tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Well thank you," Joe snuggled into David and kissed his cheek. 

"And I'm not wasting my time doing it and I know that for a fact." He smirked running a hand through his brown hair.

"I know you're not wasting your time because I love you." Joe winked and kissed David all over once again. Nothing would break them.

[himbowelsh]

Well now I need touch starved Liebgott something! I always imagined Webgott to work the other way around. Y'know Web being unused to hugs and Lieb having no sense of boundaries. But I'm really intrigued by a concept of switching it up.

hello i’m in tears bc this took so long to write, but...  enjoy an extremely touch-hangry boi.  be warned, for copious amounts of obscenely soft cuddling.

Long story short, it goes like this.

David’s just finished an article, two hours ahead of the frankly unreasonable deadline sent by his editor; he collapses on the couch, promptly kicks his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table, and slumps against Joe’s side.

Joe goes very still.

At first, David thinks it’s because of his feet. Joe can be weird about things like that; he values cleanliness, and “not acting like fuckin’ animals in the house, Jesus, Web”. All the things David was never allowed to do growing up in his family’s Manhattan penthouse  ---  like leave dishes out or discard his clothes in messy piles  ---  are exactly the sort of things that drive Joe insane. He kind of relishes doing them, just to see the twitch Joe gets by his eye, and for the way he grips his hips roughly when he growls at him to “quit leaving your shit everywhere”. David’s natural sloppiness leaves Joe needing an outlet for his frustration… and their shared bedroom is kept very clean. It works out great for both parties.

So, sure, it’s probably just the feet on the table… he thinks for a grand total of eight seconds, before looking up to catch Joe’s eye.

His boyfriend’s gaze has gone impossible soft. It takes David’s breath away, a little, because Joe isn’t like that as a rule. He’s sharp edges and broken glass, jagged teeth and bladed grins. He’s harsh as sandpaper and smooth as steel. He’s frustrating, and his gentle moments come and go like fickle summer storms.

To be fair, impromptu cuddling on the couch isn’t like them either… but David needs it tonight, and stepping outside the bounds of their normal relationship can’t be the worst crime in the world. He holds Joe’s gaze for a moment, questioning and careful… but, instead of pulling away, Joe just takes a moment before sighing. His arm wraps around David’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Rough night, Web?” he asks, an undercurrent of implication in his voice. This ain’t like you. You alright?

“You have no idea.” David rests his stubbled cheek against Joe’s chest, sighing deeply as the tension slowly drains from his muscles. Joe is hesitant to react; his actions, even as he rubs up and down David’s shoulder, lack his usual fearlessness. Joe can grab his ass in the middle of a crowded bar, or ruffle his curls just to get on his nerves… but this casual intimacy is uncharted territory for him.

He needs a distraction from his own head. David’s got just the thing. “How would you,” he sighs, “like to hear about the plight of Heteractis anemone? Because I just wrote four thousand words on it.”

“Heter— huh.” Joe sighs into the crown of his head, ruffling his curls. “Pretty sure Guarnere caught that once.”

“Knowing him, he’s still got it,” David replies. When Joe laughs, it reverberates in his chest, a low rumble in David’s ear.

“Yeah, alright, Web. Tell me all ‘bout your anemoles.”

“Anemone.”

“Yeah, what’d I say?” Joe presses his grin into David’s hair. “Amenemes.”

“Anemo-- damn it,” he mutters, burying the words against his boyfriend’s chest. Joe laughs even harder… and, like it or not, the sound it a balm to David’s frayed nerves. Even better are the strong arms which wrap around him, fully encompassing his shoulders and pulling him against Joe’s body. It’s… more than he was anticipating, more than they probably need, but it feels nice, and he doesn’t want to pull away. David melts against him, curling his legs with Joe and letting himself drift off. Fingers card gently through his hair; his boyfriend’s warm breath caresses his temple… and being this close feels so good that he forgets to remember it isn’t ordinary at all.

If he looked up at that exact moment, he might have found Joe enjoying it even more than he was… but David, as usual, preferred to sail away.

-------------------------------------

That really should have been the end of it… but after their night of unexpected intimacy, it’s like a dam has broken.

Joe does it at unexpected moments. While David is flipping pancakes in the kitchen, he comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, chin looping over his shoulder. They just sort of… stay there. David is so surprised that he ends up charring the pancake, which Joe eats anyways, because he’d inhale charcoal if he was hungry enough… but while his boyfriend is wolfing blackened pancake lumps down his throat, no explanation is offered. David doesn’t know how to ask.

He’s brushing his teeth; Joe comes up behind him and holds his hips, just staying there for a few minutes. He’s reading a book in bed; Joe lies down, curling into his side like an automatic reflex. They’re watching whatever B-rated action flick Joe just insisted on going to see at the Cineplex, and Joe holds his hand the entire time.

Calling it strange is an understatement. It’s fucking bizarre.

Which isn’t to say Joe’s been shy about physical contact before, because he hasn’t. He’s just always been measured with it. Joe doesn’t hold back from touching people, grasping their shoulders or clapping them on the back… but he never goes overboard with it. His touches don’t linger. He’s a handsy person by nature, but David never considered before that he weighs every touch before giving them out. 

If that’s the case, what’s changed? Why has he suddenly become so free — even apparently craving — touches he’s never asked for before?

David doesn’t know much about the scientific method, but any good journalist can test a hypothesis as well as a lab tech. Early one night, before either of them have gone to bed, he sits down next to Joe on the couch and sets the remote in his boyfriend’s lap.

“Anything but reality TV,” is all he says, and Joe smirks as he turns the station to some late night show.

He’s paying attention; David is not. Instead, his attention is fixed firmly on Joe, not even trying to hide it. The curve of his profile, the shadows along his neck and collar, the way he always lounges when he sits… like he’s trying to take up as much space as possible. Something about him seems inexplicably, undeniably lonely.

David leans over and wraps an arm around Joe’s shoulders. The reaction is expected; Joe goes tense, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on. David counts back in his head:  ten… nine… eight… seven…

Before he gets to five, Joe’s relaxed into him. Easy as that — it’s like teaching a puppy to eat food, or a baby to cry. Joe and touch go together like authors and caffeine. Touching is easy for him, but being touched is the most natural thing in the world.

A flame kindles to life within David’s chest, and soon it’s warming him from the inside out. He can’t keep a fond smile from his lips. After a moment, his hand strays up to Joe’s hair, threading gently through the well-maintained strands. Joe’s always had a weakness for having his hair touched, and tonight is no exception. He makes a tiny, content noise and leans into David, the tension slowly draining from his body. It doesn’t take long before he’s leaning against him, head balanced against David’s chest. Arms still around him, David holds Joe tenderly, caressing his hair while occasionally pressing kisses to the crown of his head. Joe’s heartbeat is steady, his muscles lax. David charts the gentle rhythm of his breathing until he’s sure his boyfriend has dropped off to sleep.

When he looks down, a wave of tenderness washes over him. Joe Liebgott with every guard down is a thing to see. He so rarely looks peaceful. There’s something restless about Joe, a relentless hunger thrumming just beneath his skin, determined to break free. He’s always had an edge of urgency to him… but now, dozing against David’s chest, he looks without a care in the world.

He ought to be this way all the time. He deserves to be happy all the time. God help him, if David has any say in it, Joe will be.

“Is it my birthday or something?” Joe asks, when David, completely unprompted, begins massaging his shoulders. “Shit, don’t tell me I’m another year older and just forgot.”

“Not for another few months, old man,” David replies. On reflex, Joe tries to twist and grab him, but David’s massage doesn’t let up; after a minute, he relaxes into it, slumping further back against David’s chest.

“You been acting weird lately,” Joe declares — as though David needs to be good, and as though he wasn’t the one acting weird to begin with. “Everything fine at work? You didn’t… gamble away our savings to the mafia, or promise Sobel our firstborn kid or something? If you got news for me, Web, I can take it without a bonus massage.”

“Why do you think — wait, we’re going to have kids?”

“Head in the game, Web. What’s going on?”

At once, he’s glad Joe is facing the other way, because David’s not sure what he could say otherwise. He frowns at Joe’s back muscles, kneading into them with a bit more force than necessary. Sure, he’s been… more physically affectionate these days. Joe no longer has to seek it out, because he gives it willingly… and even if touch doesn’t come naturally to David, the obvious way Joe eats it up when his touches linger in public or they draw close to each other in private makes it all worthwhile. Joe seems happier nowadays, so clearly it’s working fine.

Why’s he getting interrogated now?

“Am I not allowed to touch you?” he asks. “Just because I want to touch?”

“You ain’t a touchy-feely person. Never have been.”

“People change.”

“Not you.” Joe’s observation is too neutral for David to justify flaring up at it. “Come on, Web. What’s going on?”

He’s silent for a long moment before summoning a reply. “I want you to be happy,” he declares, finishing off Joe’s back massage with a caress of his neck. “I want you… to feel loved.”

Joe is silent for a beat before turning his head to look back at him. “That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah,” David huffs. “That’s all.”

It’s hard to make out Joe’s expression when one half of his face is cast into shadow, but David spots the amusement in his eyes… and something else, too, something softer that he can’t put his finger on. It sparks a familiar warmth in his chest, and he smiles.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Joe sighs. There’s no warning before he’s leaning back against David’s chest, but David’s ready this time. He opens his arms, embracing him as they go. Slowly, Joe relaxes into the comfort of his touch, and the world feels a little warmer.

[band-of-bros]

“you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad” for webgott of course 😘

Taken from this prompt list

Liebgott doesn’t even know what Web is ranting about anymore.  He started with something about the disrespect of sharks (because when doesn’t a rant of his start with either sharks or grammar mistakes), but Lieb lost track of the conversation once John Green was mentioned.  Now, he’s just enjoying staring at Web.

There’s something beautiful about Web when he’s angry.  There’s something beautiful about Web most of the time, with his big blue eyes, perfect hair, and pink lips that are always a bit damp because he constantly licks them.  Everything is more when he’s angry, though.  His eyes are brighter.  He’s hair gets messed up because he always runs his hands through it.  His lips move so fast when he’s riled up, and he’s distracted enough that Joe can stare at them without being noticed.  Lieb knows what else those lips are good for, and it drives him crazy.

Webster angry is Webster at his most passionate.  Liebgott loves every second of it.

When Liebgott has decided that it’s gone on long enough, he stalks up to Web and traps him against the kitchen counter with a hand on either side.  Web’s voice cuts out immediately.

“What are you doing?” he asks.  Liebgott nips at his throat and hears Web inhale sharply.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” he says.  He captures Web’s lip in a searing kiss, pressing fully against him.  Web responds in kind.  Joe is pressed so close that he has to bend backwards to break the kiss, and they’re both panting by that time.

“Are you serious?” he pants.

“Thought you were supposed to be smart, Web,” he says, mouthing around his jaw, then moving upwards to suck on his earlobe.  Webster tries to muffle his moan, but it doesn’t work.  Joe grins.

“Why do you think I enjoy riling you up so much?” he asks.  Web’s hands clench at his hips, and they both know where this is going.

“Because you’re an asshole,” Web says, and Liebgott laughs.  He kisses Web again, and when it ends Web pushes him back by his hips.

“Bedroom,” he commands.

“We could just do it here,” Liebgott says.  “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

“Bedroom,” Web growls.  Lieb hooks his fingers through his belt loops and reels him back in.  He knows exactly how to get under Web’s skin.  They won’t make it to the bedroom.

[distractionpie]

webgott prompt - for anon

nsfw text behind cut

Their bodies were pressed close together, skin rubbing against skin as they both moved frantically, hearts racing as they chased release.

Webster made a frustrated sound, desperate almost to the point of madness and bucked his hips.

Joe glared down at him. “Would you quit moving around?”

Webster glared back just as fiercely, his cheeks flushed with anger. “It’s not my fault we’re tied up together!”

Joe gaped. “Yes it is!”

“You were the one tying the knots.”

“Yeah and if you’d stayed still I wouldn’t have got all fucking tangled up.” It should have been simple, it had looked easy enough on the video he’d seen, but then Webster had kept squirming ⎼and perhaps Joe been encouraging him with a knee between his thighs, curious to see just how worked up Web would with a little friction to go with his anticipation, but that wasn’t an excuse⎼ and managed to distract Joe badly enough that the tie had ended up looped around his own wrists and hopelessly entangled without him realising it.

“Doesn’t change the fact, this would go a lot easier if you stopped freaking out,” Joe complained. It would still be a problem, since he wasn’t sure what knot he’d actually tied let alone how he’d ended up caught in it when it had been Webster’s wrists he’d been aiming to affix to the flimsy headboard.

Since it had become clearly fairly quickly that this new position hadn’t come with nearly enough manoeuvrability for him to just roll with the change of plans and enjoy things the obvious solution had been to untie the knot and start over.

“Stop freaking out?” Webster’s voice betrayed the fact he was doing exactly the opposite. “My roommate gets back at five!”

Joe tipped his head up, glancing at the clock above the bed. It read 17:03. He decided it was best not to tell Webster that.

Twenty-five minutes of him trying things at random, some of which helped and some of which had only made the mess worse, all the while Webster grew more and more agitated, Joe was pretty sure he almost had it – but it was hard to progress when Webster kept moving his hips like that, apparently too distracted to realise that his squirming was doing nothing to improve Joe’s focus.

He pulled himself up the mattress so that he could use his teeth to tug at a particularly stubborn loop, feeling Webster’s warm breath against his chest as he did so.

Next time, Joe was going on the internet and buying handcuffs. So much easier.

[youcalledmebabe]

I'm intrigued by The Future’s Been Cancelled by the War Department!

more info here but have another snippet!

Joe’s drunk enough to not tease Web about calling Joe Liebgott of all people poetic. “I miss rain. Fog. My siblings. Soda. Movies. Vivien Leigh. Who I was. Who you were, before yesterday.”

“I’ve always been who I was yesterday,” Web says. “I’m sorry if you couldn’t see that. I’m sorry if I failed to be who you wanted. I always thought—I thought if someone was going to idealize the other too much it would’ve been me with you. Writers, you know. Always making things up. I can see now how much it hurts to be turned into fiction.”

[youcalledmebabe]

super curious about The Future’s Been Cancelled by the War Department it's such a good title (also hi this is babe-heffron lol)

hii!! right… shout out mash and whoever made the mash time loop video I watched for the iconic title. So basically it is the webgott time loop fic. Joe lives the day after the mountain over and over for no discernible reason. That day also happens to be Babe’s birthday and the day before Joe turns 30 for extra fun. Thematically it’s about forgiveness and betrayal and how to move forward. It’s my beloved. Have a snippet!

“I’m living the same day over and over,” Joe says. “It’s been May 16th for almost two weeks.”

Web snorts. “Yeah, right. If you’re preparing your insanity defense it needs work. Go away. I don’t want to talk.”

He slams the door shut. Joe stares at it, shocked. What? This was not how it was supposed to go. It’s never gone like this. Web always wants to talk. “I’m mad at you!” he shouts.

[youcalledmebabe]

BEFORE THE BEGINNING from the ask game, for whichever wip you want !!!

no excuses writing meme

thank you for the ask arthur!!

by the time Joe gets caught in a time loop he’s already obsessed with Web. he goes from wondering who the Superman lookalike in Georgia is to getting sick of his ‘historical facts’ in England. in Holland he has the misfortune (or great luck) of being injured at the same time as Web and they find themselves together in the hospital. joe finds, to his shock, that he rather enjoys being stuck with Web, that he feels like the hero of a screwball comedy when he’s with him. in bastogne the simmering affection freezes over, even as he spends idle time imagining that pretty face. and, well, we all know what happened in Haguenau!

[youcalledmebabe]

Whenever I see you post about your webgott time loop fic or tag something that, I always go !!!!!! BECAUSE I LOVE TIME LOOP FICS! AND YOURE A VERY GOOD WRITER SO IM VERY EXCITED FOR IT!

*ahem* anyway, this is my long winded way to ask if there’s anyway you could gift us with a snippet? You don’t have to of course, I would love it if you even just talk about the fic!

oh my god thank you!! this is so nice 😭

so I’ll share two things and a snippet!

1. the working title is ‘the future’s been canceled by the war department’ which is from MASH. I saw a compilation video of the mash time loop theory which got the wheels in my brain turning. it’s kind of a mouthful so idk if it’ll stay that but that’s the vibe right now

2. one other character is heavily implied to also be experiencing the time loop just for fun. he’s just unlucky I guess!

They spend the entire day in bed. Web leaves for an hour to make excuses for Joe and to sneak food out of the mess. It’s nice. Peaceful. Maybe the kind of day they should have had originally. Another day that’ll slip away, living only in Joe’s memory. He and Web will wake up today, tomorrow, and return to arguing in the mess hall.

“I miss you,” Joe confesses.

Web smiles, slightly, stroking Joe’s hair. “I’m right here.”

But you’re not, Joe thinks. And I’m not either.

[youcalledmebabe]

at long last, the webgott time loop is here!

“I can’t believe I’ll forget all this,” Web says. “You’ll tell me again, won’t you?”

“I’ll try. Don’t know if you’ll believe me though. You didn’t, the first two times.”

Web’s eyebrows wrinkle. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed.

Joe waves a hand. “I probably wouldn’t believe you either,” he says. Although maybe he would. He was a sucker; he’d believed everything that came out of Web’s mouth, from how gorgeous Web found him to how the Germans were ignorant, servile scum.

[youcalledmebabe]

how nice!! would be a shame if you were caught in a time loop and there wasn’t any tomorrow though…

[youcalledmebabe]

first pages under the cut. spoilers for bursting into life. does fic need a spoiler warning?