#or joe's fucking demise

[the-acid-pear]

Man I am getting ready to play DSaF 3 again and I just can't get over what Harry told me. That's unironically the most horrifying "I have no mouth and I must scream" shit I've seen because while the things being done (personality changes, emotional and physical restrictions, radical changes to their bodies, memory wipes; all this against their will) isnt something i've not seen before the fact that this is done so regurlarly and is treated as such a common practice that has been going on since the 70s and run by the fucking equivalent to McDonalds is so blood chilling to me.

[theminecraftbee]

hey bee, who are you looking forward to watching when s10 comes out, what's your theory on the demise skins?

no idea on the demise skins, other than that it’s really funny that impulse is apparently Fucking Dead. anyway, joe’s episode ones are normally great on account of him being Chronically Helpful, so he’s definitely up there! I also am curious about cleo plans, I may put impulse on the early watch list because of Why Are You Grey, and I’m a tango guy now I guess so him. iskall, also, if he releases a video on time. and OBVIOUSLY whoever the new hermits are. oh right and mumbo back now so probably mumbo! AND ZEDAPH I ALMOST FORGOT ZEDAPH HOW DARE I.

……….that may be too many actually the real answer may be “whoever my whims latch onto the day of”, tbh,

[lovejosephquinn]

"You look so good with my hands around your neck."

I am BEGGING 😭😭🙏

Congrats on 2.5k!!🥰

Joe's hand seized itself against your throat as he rutted into you at a hard pace, balls slapping up against your ass cheeks as you lifted your face upward slightly to regain some oxygen flow from your lungs. Chanting out profanities, Joe was towering above you, his eyes burning through your irises in a real intense stare, he had already told you to keep his eyes firmly planted on his, to look at him as he fucked you into tomorrow.

"God damn it." He panted onward. "You look so good with my hands around your neck." Joe whimpered, his cock twitching against your walls which tightened around him with every thrust.

You couldn't quite catch your own moans flying out of you as tears escaped from the corners of your eyes, each pounding you received better than the last which had snapped your core into submission at least three times in the last twenty minutes. You were almost spent, unable to take anymore and he enjoyed forcing it upon you to give him that little bit extra each time. Each tear represented a feeling that was being ploughed into your system, sending your heart rapidly beating out of time, the blood inside of you heating up, your back arching partially from the ache and sensitivity but also the sheer pleasure.

"Aw baby, are you crying because I fuck you so good?" Joe bit down on his bottom lip, almost getting a kick from the way you continued to stare whilst you physically sobbed in his grip which with pure excitement was tightening harder, fingers moulding through to the veins bulging at the sides of your neck.

"You take me so well darling, letting me use you until I want to stop." It was true, you looked like a rag doll used essentially for his own sexual frustration, you didn't mind, it really got you going when he had his dominant head on and you were happy to oblige with how or whatever he wanted to do in that moment.

"You like it when my cock fucks you this good love?" You nodded quickly, trying to sweep an easier answer in silence rather than trying to even muster up a vocal one, after all your chords were practically being strangled by that of a familiar large hand, he was using you as leverage to be able to go as hard as he could, picking up his speed until he found a pace that felt the best. You were sent into a wave of shock, your multiple orgasms sending you into a beautiful oblivion.

"Fuck-" Joe cursed the profanity over and over and over again, your eyes trained against the darkened brown eyes that watched over you.

His thrusts became sloppy, your walls tensing around him making every muscle in his cock throb inevitably, his hand released from your throat making your own hand come up in its place to relieve yourself of the pressure put against it. The hand that once occupied one of your body parts fell against your left breast as he squeezed and brought his finger tips to pinch against your nipple, falling forward to plant a fierce kiss onto your lips.

Your eyes remained open as he pressed his body up, arms caging you underneath him, you could hear every squelch, every slap of his balls, every groan that rose from his throat, his demise was all to close and you ate every part of his enjoyment of it up, the tears still falling from your eye lids; glistening beautifully and clouded over.

He came to a stand still shortly after, emptying his seed inside of you, you could almost feel the way his cock pulsated, softening slow and collapsing almost his full weight on your body, chest falling and rising rapidly in attempt to ride out his own orgasm and calm down. Seconds passed and you felt his soft lips making a sweet job of giving a silent apology for causing the red restrained marks from his hand that was once wrapped around your neck, he left beautifully soft slurpy kisses against each bruised looking part, caressing you adoringly like he hadn't just been fucking the life out of you.

Joe fucked you well, but he looked after you even better.

[becauseimanicequeen]

(I'm writing this after painting for almost 9 hours, so it might not make sense, lol, but here goes...)

Reading some thoughts/theories about My Stand-In the past couple of days has been equally entertaining and frustrating.

Some made me laugh because they matched my usual delulu theories (and I love delulu theories). (The whole reason I started my tumblr almost 5 months ago was because I wanted a space to share my delulu theories on DFF, lol.)

But, some of them were just... No. No. Fuck no!

And I'm writing this as someone who was raised on soap operas, Days of Our Lives in particular (which is weird because I'm not even American). Characters being kidnapped, possessed, dying and coming back to life is just a normal Tuesday for me. And I've mentioned earlier that I won't mind ridiculous shit happening in My Stand-In for this reason.

But...

If it turns out that Joe steps out into the light and magically travels back in time to a moment before Joe 1.0's accident so he can stop that from happening... I will riot.

Fortunately, I'm pretty sure they won't do this (even though I've been wrong about story progressions before).

But if they do, it will completely erase all of Ming's progress. Even though I know how fucking painful it can be to lose people you love (and add his guilt for being a part of Joe's untimely demise the first time on top of that), that was a big part of why he was so willing to sacrifice everything for Joe this time when he got a second chance.

(Yes, Ming is still a brat and all that, but it doesn't change the fact that he also gave up his anonymity/privacy to make sure Joe would find him, put up boundaries Tong wasn't allowed to cross, made an effort to be with Joe which Joe also noted was different, blackmailed Tong and his own family to be with Joe, was ready to trade places with Joe in the latest kidnapping, etc. All of that is progress.)

Sure, My Stand-In isn't really about Ming. It's more about Joe. But the same goes for him.

Stepping into the bright light (which is often a symbol of death/near-death experiences, even though the Master said it would break a cycle, so it might not even mean that he will pass on) to end his suffering doesn't feel like the choice the character I've seen in 11 episodes would make.

Joe will come back because, to me, he does the right thing rather than what's easy. If he's convinced it's the right thing to do, he does it (sometimes without thinking). He's shown it several times throughout the series (he even helped Tong, of all people, in ep. 11 because he knows what it's like to grow up without parents and didn't want the same for Tong and May's child).

Furthermore, there is no way Joe will leave when he still has unfinished business (especially with Joe 2.0's mom).

(I mean, come on, she's had a huge fight with her son twice now. Both times right before he was hospitalized. Cut her some slack!)

Having Joe travel back in time will fall flat for me, even if he decides to seek out Joe 2.0's mom and help her care for her son.

Again, I fortunately don't think this is the way they're going with the show. Instead, I think something will stop Joe before he walks out through those doors and steps into the light.

He might hear something (possibly Ming), he might see something (perhaps the flashbacks they included in the teaser for ep. 12), or he might just change his mind because he realizes he still has unfinished business (and love for Ming) and chooses life.

Or, he steps into the light (to break the cycle), but instead of passing on, he sees everything that happened after his first accident, realizes he's no longer a stand-in (at least in Ming's eyes), and is then faced with the choice to wake up from his coma or not.

Either way, I need Joe to choose. And I need him to choose life. Because he's coming back in one way or another. Of that, I'm sure.

(Just don't make him travel back in time. Pretty please, don't do this to me, lol.)

[bybdolan]

quick ttpd thoughts

ok so. i did listen to a leak so I had time to sit with the OG album for a while. I have not yet listened to all the Anthology tracks, but this not-doing of something is part of my album reaction. Bear with me.

First of all: I am insanely impressed with Taylor for being this raw and messy on record. More distinguished haters have said that this album once again feels like self-mythologizing, but I personally do not agree. User dancefloors had an excellent take on this: the album is emotional and messy to a degree where you feel like you should not be listening to it. At least that's how I felt.

However, that also has a downside. I find many of the lyrics, especially on the standard edition, to be unpolished or downright cringe. This rambl-y first draft type of writing might work for other artists, but I never feel like it works for Taylor. The second line of Fortnight is so awful that I was CONVINCED the leak I heard was AI, and people have talked at length about the tattooed Golden Retriever. Girl. Almost every song had an insane clunker or two hidden in it. This is not helped by what I personally (!) perceive to be a bit of a rehashing of imagery and themes that have been prominent in songwriting trends for the past few years. Killing the woman you are jealous of, Cassandra, religious imagery .... Don't get me wrong, I think the call for "originality" at al costs can be detrimental to art, but frequently with this album i felt as if lines were haparzadly chosen to fit a certain "aesthetic" that didn't mesh well with the rest of the song. Like. Nothing about "my husband's cheating. I wanna kill him." communicates any deeper emotion. (Compared to e.g. Samia's "I hope you marry the girl from your hometown and I'll fucking kill her and I'll fucking freak out.")

The introductory poem is one of the worst things i have ever read.

The thing is. I don't always do well with new releases, they are overwhelming, etc., but I listened to the first four tracks and was like "how can anybody think this is good". Which IS a hater take, and there is much I do enjoy about the album, and I am happy others like it.But with the already present repetition PLUS 15 Tracks .... it is a bit too much. I could go on and on about the repetition of words and themes that feels a bit trite (smalltown stuff, "starry-eyed", "precocious"), but I don't wanna. I wish there had been more editing, and I think I have talked at length before about how I do not like this new era of just putting out everything.

Alas. I did not click with this album and there are very few tracks i want to go back to. So Long, London is a favorite because of the concise lyrics and beautiful production, I can bop to Down Bad, but daddy I love him is fun imagery-wise, Clara/Sam/Sophia/Marcus is sad and also. A Lot., So High School, and I dig "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith, this ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots". The 2am tracks need more attention, but I already like Looking Into Windows (?) much more than a lot of other tracks - generally, I enjoy the more genuinely sad Joe tracks about the slow demise of a relationship much more than the fast paced high strung ones.

anything else .... well. I don't know.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one. 

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it. 

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well. 

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.” 

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–” 

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’. 

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong. 

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein." 

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.” 

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" 

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it. 

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here." 

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him. 

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface. 

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up." 

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper. 

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought." 

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?" 

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch." 

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable. 

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

  “You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most. 

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence. 

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed. 

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands. 

"I fuckin' hate this." 

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring. 

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.” 

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place? 

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen. 

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably. 

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat. 

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns. 

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done." 

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring. 

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll. 

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet. 

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view. 

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-” 

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him. 

“I’m not-” 

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand. 

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over. 

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle. 

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society. 

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment. 

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar. 

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating. 

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone. 

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she? 

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really. 

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face. 

He’d never seen her kill, after all. 

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that. 

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful. 

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.” 

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then." 

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

[omegalomania]

not to get top surgery and then Immediately start rambling about ybc again but like the thing about ybc is . the thing is. the thing is that it's this direct fucking correlation to fob's career trajectory and the turbulence of the hiatus. and i dont know how much of this was intentional or not but the THING about the hiatus is that it seeps into everything they do in this weird wild unfathomable way. like it or not, it is a very distinct "before and after" point. like it's the darkest point in the band's history, and in many ways in each member's individual histories, and ybc is basically a whole narrative crafted around this because it was about their resurgence and return and the phoenix rising from the ashes.

ybc as a narrative starts because of a briefcase. a not insignificant portion of this narrative revolves around this case, and it contains something that we never see. the case contains something terrible. it contains something that the band members are afraid of but overjoyed to have and nonetheless fight and kill each other to protect (pete could feel the band slipping away but wrote about it anyway. patrick and joe were disillusioned and tired and wanted a break from it all). pete clings to this briefcase and shields it with his body at the very end, DIES to protect it (pete was the only one who didn't want the hiatus and didn't know what he was outside of fall out boy). patrick physically ties the case to his body and it has to be cleaved from him, painfully (killing the band arguably nearly killed his career in music). this is a story that starts with the band's faces bathed in a radiant golden glow of something full of so much promise...that subsequently crushes them beneath its heel, mangles them, tortures them, drags them through hell, divides them again and again and again and again (the band became so much bigger than any of them dreamed and yet if they'd never taken the break, it would have broken the band eventually). their lives are uprooted and ruined and ruptured because of it. they tied themselves to this thing that pulled them apart, brutally, in more ways than one.

did they mean it? did they mean it when this case became stained, literally, with their blood? did they mean it when, immediately upon obtaining this case, the band was separated from each other and were quickly captured and tortured? when the case was seized by forces other than themselves? did they mean it when a group of literal kids beat the shit out of the band and left them for dead (it's been years and pete still calls us that - the kids)? when patrick was warped into something uncontrollably monstrous, possessed of a deep-seated hatred toward music as a very concept? when patrick was the one to kill joe, who then went to the platonic ideal of sex drugs and rock and roll hell? when andy died alone, defending something without any backup or hope for resolution? when patrick and pete were the last two standing who murdered each other over this thing, coughing blood in the dust while the spectators gathered around to root hungrily for their demise? when the pair of them died side by side, seemingly unable to survive without one another?

it's this briefcase that contains something ruinous and horrible that rises to tear the band apart (again) but at which the band members do not so much as flinch as they face this fucking thing down. this thing that became so much bigger than they were and threatened to consume them. this thing that they protected and fought and died for and swore to love and defend even as it wanted to rip them apart. and did they mean that? did they mean it when they chose to forgive one another for all their wrongdoings without hesitation and walk back into a world that had been nothing but unkind to them, and fight for it regardless? did they mean this glorious and inexplicable conclusion, white light crashing into red and sending forth a wave of blood that lapped up against the very fucking gates of heaven?

the band had been together for something like a year when this story ended. and i think at this point there was no real knowing whether there'd be a resolution. and maybe on some level they will always feel that push. that adversity. there will always be something they must go up against, some by their own design, some external. but if they have each other -

well. you know how it goes. they've got each other. and that's enough.

fuck, but as long as they have each other, it's enough.

[leadpoisioning]

There’s a Possibility…

Vamp!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

SMUT (18+) ((angst to smut, gore, vampire, blood sucking, couch fucking, getting caught))

Word Count: 2,702

After countless sensations, you decide to see for yourself that Eddie is really, truly gone. You get the answer you were looking for- and then some.

You can’t help but feel guilty as the three boys hug you tightly. The dam that’d been holding strong for the past few years of your life cracked the previous day. After sleeping, trying to forget, remembering the better parts, it crumbled. You let out a heavy sob while they mumbled about how grateful they were you weren’t hurt in the earthquake. You chuckled amidst the tears and uttered a single phrase that had them all rip away from you.

“He’s gone.”

“What?” Gareth asks, lowly. He’s distraught. Joe and Grant both wait quietly, wanting your explanation on what happened. Gareth doesn’t have time for that, he grips your shoulders harshly- shaking them while you cry. “What the fuck do you mean by that (Y/N)!?” His voice cracks. You sob harder, clinging to him tightly. He joins your crying fit, wetting your shoulder as you hold his head.

“He-“ You choke, “Eddie- He’s gone. He’s fucking dead!” Joe and Grant cling to the two of you once more, tears falling.

Eventually, you have to pull back. You were tired. Everything out of you was physically and emotionally drained. Your best friend of five years- your goddamn boyfriend for all of six days died in your fucking arms the day before. You’re thankful that they don’t ask the details yet, you’re sure they will soon, though. How were you supposed to explain his heroic action and demise in the Upside Down? You decided you were going to put that off for as long as you could.

The only thing you could force yourself to do was lock your door and shut everyone you could out.

That only worked for so long. Soon, Dustin, Steve, Robin, Mike- hell even Nancy Wheeler were knocking at your door. You tried to appreciate their presence and care for you, but it wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want them to be brought down by your newly adopted sour outlook on life so you sent them away every time, claiming you were fine.

You were not.

Every now and again you’d hear him, see him, and fall into a small panic attack until you were sure Vecna hadn’t come for you. Then again, it wouldn’t be so bad if he did. At least then you’d get to see your one true love once more. It still didn’t explain your visions, but you didn’t mind as long as you got to see and hear him for a brief moment.

“(Y/N).” You heard him, you turned your head only to be met with your wall. You hugged your knees to your chest in your desk chair and continued to stare out the window. “(Y/N)!” Jumping out of your chair, you turn towards the door.

It was too real.

He was there, he had to be. You rushed forward, only for your hands to meet the wall. You groan and punch the drywall, denting it. Falling to your knees, you come to a conclusion. You had to go back. You had to see for yourself, with your own eyes, that he was still there and not fucking with you.

Flashlight, pistol, walkie-talkies. That was all you needed for your small expedition. If you needed, you knew where to get a shovel. The hardest part would be getting into the gate, barriers blocked every important entrance. But, with the rising numbers of residents leaving Hawkins it would be easy to get in without being seen. In your gut you knew you should’ve told someone where you were going, but you didn’t have the time in your mind. You just needed an answer.

Sprinting across the tree line, you make a break for the remnants of Eddie’s trailer. When you approach the crack you see Wayne.

“(Y/N).” He draws his mouth into a thin line. Regret floods into your eyes. It should’ve been you that broke the news to him, but you couldn’t. He gently opens his arms for you to fall into.

“I’m so sorry.” You sob, soaking his coat. He hushes you and squeezes you once before letting you go. Wiping your soiled face, he pulls back. “Wayne can I tell you something? You might not believe me, but it’s the truth.” He eyes you, nodding hesitantly.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this…” He sighs, hoisting you over the barricade, watching as you crawl towards the split in the earth.

“It’s okay. I’ll radio if anything goes wrong and then you just switch the channel and call Steve.” You explain. “Thank you.” He nods.

“Bring home my boy.” Deep down you think he knows something too.

The Upside Down seems more colorful. It was brighter than its been the times you’ve entered before. But that’s not why you’re here. It spat you out on the same side of the destroyed trailer. You pace backwards, getting ready to sprint and jump across the crack. You fall into a roll and scrape your hand. Hissing, you quickly wipe it off and stand up. Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the possible sight of a rotting Eddie, overcome with the vines and eaten by the demobats. You swallow hard and peek around the corner of the trailer.

The absence of him relieves and terrifies you. Raising the walkie to your face, you only press the button before it’s ripped out of your hand. Your hand flies to your pistol.

“Fucking freaks.” You mutter, aiming at anything that moves, doing a slow spin to know your surroundings. After your assessment you sigh, picking up one of the bikes used to get here last time. You’re pretty sure you had another walkie in your room three years ago.

Meanwhile, in the right side up, Wayne notices the static for a split second and speaks into it, asking if you’re alright. When he doesn’t get an answer he’s quick to change the station and call Steve. At the High School doing charity work, Steve is sent through the several stages of grief and leaves Robin, promising his return, that this was an emergency.

Upon your arrival, you notice the door thrown almost all the way off of its hinges. On high alert, you stroll around the out dated house. Your heart aches as you look at your sophomore era room. Everything was simpler. You sigh, glancing at a note Eddie gave you, inviting you to one of his bands shows that night. You went, but that was the last you saw of night life for a few months- due to the Byers boy, Will, disappearing. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You can’t hear anything too out of the ordinary, but you finally notice the thrum of hurt in your hand again. You should clean it. Grabbing a water bottle from your nightstand, you head for the bathroom for bandages.

“Shit.” You mutter dumping the water on the dried blood, making it gooey and opening the scrape up again. Wind courses through the house, though you can’t remember if there was any in the Upside Down. Before you can come up with a definite answer a cold hand is squeezing your wrist. You can see an arm in your peripheral vision, but you look into the mirror first.

Nothing, no one.

“(Y/N)…” He murmurs, whimpering slightly. Your heart flutters and you turn to him with wide eyes. There, your Eddie- not dead, stands. He looks at you dejectedly, but with love nonetheless.

“Oh, Eddie.” You move closer to him, but he steps back.

“(Y/N)… I’ve- changed.” Your face scrunches up.

“Yeah you fucking died.”

“Oh, well yeah, but, the uh bats. They did something to me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? They ripped chunks out of you of course they did something to you.” He stays silent and pulls his lip up, revealing a sharp, long, tooth.

The “wind”, cold hand, no reflection, sharp teeth? Bitten by demobats.

“You’re a vampire.” You state, he nods, having come to the same conclusion. “You’re a vampire!” You grin, squeezing his hands and pulling him close. Now, you didn’t have to worry about losing him. He tenses under you, going rigid. You pull back and realize your wound is still open, no doubt driving him crazy. Your back faces him while you cover it quickly and he relaxes. “You’re a fucking vampire!” You whisper yell again, grinning. He won’t match your energy. “What?” Your smile falls.

“You need to go back, everyone’s probably worried sick about you.” He hums solemnly.

“But- you! Everyone will be so happy! Dustin, Steve, hell even Nancy! I- I’m so happy.” You sob, clinging to him once more, the emotions finally rising enough to spill from your eyes.

His heart hurts. He’s had plenty of time to think about it- that’s why he showed himself to you in the first place- but now that you’re here he feels like you’ll be put in more danger. He’ll have to hide, you’ll have to jump through hoops. It won’t work.

“I can’t come back, Angel.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because it’s not what’s best for you.”

“What?” You scoff.

“We’re different now, it won’t work.” You can’t believe it. You thought your boyfriend was dead- and the minute you find out otherwise he’s breaking up with you.

“It won’t work.” You repeat, in a hushed whisper. “Then make it work.”

“What?” This time it’s his turn to question you.

“Bite me, Eddie- all I’ve ever wanted was you.”

That statement alone was enough to make his halted heart pound. Maybe he thought you were going to leave on your own, so he was going to make you to avoid the pain. But you weren’t going to? You wanted to join him by his own fangs? He stares at you blankly.

“Edward…” You hum, seriously. He swallows thickly, watching intently as you move your head- the perfect spot for his teeth to sink into being exposed.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, Eddie.” His mouth draws into a thin line.

“Here’s the deal. Prove your loyalty to me. If you still want it by the end, you got it. Just think about it, just a little. Make sure you really want it. Want me.”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” You repeat, slamming your warm lips onto his cold ones. He easily lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the living room. You can’t help but hug him tightly, actively trying to reassure and diminish his doubts. He sets you down gently on the old couch.

“Are you-“

“Yes, Eddie.” Your heart flutters. Eddie notices. His lips reconnect with yours gently as he kneels into the couch. Your hands tangle in the familiar mess of his hair that you missed the most. You think you could cry.

“What’s wrong?” He stops immediately.

“Missed you so much…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his. He leans into you.

“I know.” He grins at you, going all in.

“How long has she been down there?” Steve frantically asks Wayne, who paces nervously near the gate. He squeezes the bridge of his nose and huffs.

“About half an hour. Fifteen minutes in I heard the static but then no answer when I asked.” Steve nods and gazes down into the gate, swallowing thickly.

“If I’m not out in another half hour, call Nancy Wheeler.” Wayne agrees and watches as Steve dips a shoe into the opening. Eventually, he fully disappears.

Eddie’s lips feverishly meld with yours as he hovers over you on the couch. You whimper against his mouth, begging him to open his mouth to yours. He complies and your tongue immediately finds his sharp teeth, dragging it against them. A deep growl sounds deep from his throat, tasting the vaguely metallic essence of your blood. He kisses you harder and grips your thigh tightly. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his tented core against your pulsing one. The warmth of you drives the metal head crazy, all he’s known for the last few weeks was coldness, harsh and lonely coldness. But he had you again, to light up his life once more.

You grow impatient with his slow movements and urge him to speed the process up, at least a little.

“Calm down…” He coos, taking you in. “We’ve got all the time in the world now.” Your heart warms at the sentiment and your hips calm down a bit. His unruly hair falls down around your face as he kisses you once more, now giving you what you want. His hands leave your legs as he reaches to undo his belt and step out of his jeans. Your mouth waters at the tent in his boxers, feeling yourself get more excited with every passing moment.

“Eds.” You gasp as he reaches down into your own pants, teasing your folds with his cold hands. He snickers, watching your eyes, lips, cheeks- everything he fell in love with when he was alive. It would never change, you were the last thing he loved. He would love you forever. Eternally.

Your thighs squeeze his hand, bringing him out of his thoughts, he knew you were ready. If you could handle him now, he would not hesitate to be with you forever.

“You ready?” You nod rigorously and spread your legs, waiting for him to fully undress you. Soon, you’re both half naked in the upside down, about to turn everything right side up once more.

You’re now sat on the arm rest of the couch, shivering with anticipation- and because of his cold hands. He removes one from your hip and steadies his cock, moving it towards your cunt. He makes you look into his eyes, loving how yours widen when his icy cock makes contact with your clit. Your gasp is music to his ears, he keeps sliding his head up and down, until he feels you’re used to it. Then, he pushes in, watching your face contort with unique bliss. You missed the feeling of his cock, but now it felt different. Obviously the icy drag of it in and out of your cunt was different, but it felt bigger, heavier- but hey, you weren’t complaining. In fact, what Eddie could hear was quite the opposite. Your breathy moans and squeals spurred him on, going deeper and harder. You cling to his muscles and wrap your legs around his waist while you rut against him.

Steve has already checked the trailer and the creel house to no avail. He’s gotta find you, the group can’t lose you as well. Now, as a last ditch effort, he makes his way towards your house in the upside down. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was panicked. Eddie was gone when he arrived, he was hoping you weren’t doing anything stupid.

He mutters dirty things into your ear, pushing you further and deeper to your own end. The slap of his skin against yours drags you closer. You verbalize your impending finish and Eddie realizes how serious your undying willingness to be with him is. He holds up on his side of the offer, and when you babble about coming he shuts you up with his fangs puncturing your skin.

The door slams open, being kicked in by Harrington. He’d heard your cries from meters away. Eddie and yourself are too caught up in the moment to realize the intrusion, just focusing on the eternal bonding you two shared. Steve states mortified at the two of you, too disgusted to truly recognize what is happening. Eddie breaks away from your neck, your blood begins to dry quickly and turn dark. The metalhead watches with awe at his work. Your eyes stay closed for a moment, before your senses are ultimately heightened. Steves heartbeat just feet away catches your ears. You look right at him, but you don’t see him. Only your insatiable need for what lies under his skin.

“(Y/N). No. Control it.” Eddie demands, beginning to slide out of you. The feeling distracts you from Steve and puts your hunger at bay for a moment, causing you to pass out from exhaustion.

[bisluthq]

I fail to see how Taylor marketed the album as joever when all she said was it was in the works for 2 years (and imo the earlier songs are probably the ones with Aaron that are more abstract or her as a storyteller of other people's stories with some self insert, and there were probably songs similar to ylm that didn't make the album cause it wasn't a messy breakup for her to experience, it was a long and slow demise that she pulled the plug on and ran into something passionate and ultimately toxic).

People still say the name is making fun of Joe's group chat but did anyone listen to the song TTPD with their ears on and still believe that (I'm looking at the sunday times style interviewer with Joe right now lol). She's making fun of her and Matty being wanker tortured poets imo lol. Like the typewriter is from TTPD where they sell their sadness and madness. If she said 'you left your playbook at my house straight from the Kansas training grounds ' it wouldn't be any more or less deep, you left your shit from work here. But it seems to be written as a love song in present tense, so she loved his little tortured poets but even if she thought it was silly. But then she DID fall victim to sadness and madness that he was a catalyst for and wrote fucking poetry about it and turned into a caricature of herself and how writers have been stereotyped but instead of hiding from it she just went 'fine I guess I'm the chairman of TTPD now! Lock me up, lock your doors and warn your children about me! Put me in an asylum! Study my brain because no one understands why I'm feeling this way so fucking study me! Give me an MRI and see what's going on in there because I don't fucking know either maybe there's an alien artifact buried in my brain because what else can explain this manic phase other than aliens or actual illness...??? Isn't that what they all say...*smirks*

That's how I see it anyway lol

I like this take and it’s also kinda how I see it! I think TTPD went through many iterations btw before we got to the anthology.

[every-dayiwakeup]

Eddie's character, whatever you may feel about him, was absolutely pointless to the plot.

You know who was actually useful in this shit show? Argyle. He also happens to be alive.

The Duffers knew they were going to kill off Eddie, and yet they made more Eddie merch anyway.

Argyle has next to no merch. And let's not forget the mistreatment of Eduardo Franco by the fandom.

Eddie's death was predictable. Not only that, it was lazy. This is what the Duffers do. They add new characters to neglect their main characters, only to kill off the newbies.

They didn't want to kill off any main characters, so they decided to attempt a half-assed connection between the new character and the main characters. Which was pointless because Dustin was the only character who actually acknowledged Eddie's death besides Wayne Munson. Not Mike, not Nancy, not Robin, and not Steve.

The whole friendship with Dustin and Eddie serves to make up for the fact that Eddie was a new character and was going to die anyway.

They didn't want to kill off the main ocs so they decided to create a connection with a new character over a short period of time and kill that character so that Dustin's tears can make up for the void of the loss.

Did I cry for Eddie's death? If I did, I think it was more due to Joe's acting and Dustin's crying, but it was an unnecessary death.

I knew it was coming. The Duffers' love for shock value deaths didn't work this time.

Eddie just... died. He put himself directly in harm's way.

Billy's character made other characters more interesting. Not the Duffers- Billy, which we didn't get, but Dacre Montgomery's Billy. We know more about him than we do the main characters. He's one of the only characters who doesn't stand there like a fucking npc. He's actually complex. He's vibrant and constantly reacting to his environment. He doesn't need to depend solely on other characters and their relationships to make up for what isn't there, because on his own, he's already well-rounded.

Billy's death, whether you like his character or not, actually served a purpose to the plot. He sacrificed himself to protect El and Max.

He was already in danger, and he had no choice. Other people's choices led him to his demise.

His death hitting hard didn't just rely on his connection to a main character.

El has been saving the Party's asses since s1. She's one of the reasons the others haven't died yet. And let's face it, some of them should've died (or stayed dead).

She's always there to save the day, and she wouldn't even be in s4 apart from flashbacks without Billy fucking Hargrove.

@atomrose @intothedysphoria

[inafieldofdaisies]

Last Line Paragraph Tag | Tagged by @clicheantagonist ❤️

"We can get her, Gray. Right fucking now. Have Savannah in Fall's End before John even knows what hit him." "And then hide or constantly be on the run with him pissed off because I've broken our deal and fled?" His blue eyes darkened as he took another drag of his cigarette, "I told you I'd kill him, now feels like the perfect time. Bet it would be hard for him seek revenge when he's dead." The thought of the man she had looked for all these years getting killed by another that had become like family to her threatened to split her heart in two, "He's just one head of the snake, Joseph is the one pulling all the strings." The edge to his words chilled her to the bone, "I will see how old Joe likes it when I personally deliver his brother's corpse at his church's doors, no hiding behind a warrant or upholding the peace this time around. I'm torching the whole place to the ground, like they did with the Sheriff's. What I should have done long time ago, really." "No." Sabrina got up too, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, toeing the line as she tried to make him see reason, stop him from rushing headfirst into his own demise and taking someone she cared for down with him. "You can't kill him." His laugh was void of any humor, "Can't? Or you don't want me to? Because take one look outside."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @madparadoxum @shellibisshe @shegetsburned @purplehairsecretlair @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @poisonedtruth @voidika @direwombat @florbelles @corvosattano @theelderhazelnut @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @euryalex @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @dumbassdep @wrathfulrook @cassietrn @chazz-anova @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @jillvalentinesday and anyone that would like to share a line or a couple ❤️

[lovejosephquinn]

I’d like “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Please and thank you 🥹

Joe practically ripped all of your clothes off and threw you on the bed like you were some sort of rag doll, his throat was almost making a growling noise which let you knew that you were in for it. There was no foreplay, his body caged over you so you couldn’t escape, except for his tongue which attacked your neck, his teeth subtly nibbling against your skin which had you whimpering instantly.

You didn’t even have to let your brain think before your legs were opened wide for him to gain his entrance inside of you. Leaning upwards, Joe spat onto his hand and slapped it between your slit, an excited groan when he felt that your cunt was already soaking for him.

His eyes darkened, staring into your soul as he whispered “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You gasped, not having enough time to respond before he pushed every inch inside of you without any warning. It felt like desperation, like he was turned on beyond belief. It showed, his hips smacked ferociously against you, his hand firmly wrapped around your throat, the other hand’s fingers intertwined in your hair. Every muscle in your body was clenching with each hard thrust which Joe deposited inside of you, tapping against your cervix making the air in your lungs almost disappear whenever he hit a certain spot.

“J-J-Joe” you cried out. “I can’t.” You were somewhere between begging for him to stop and needing him to fuck you harder. “Don’t.” He took the hint and gave all he possibly could. “Stop. Oh my”The ball inside your stomach snapping as the way he pounded into you brought you to your unruly and most amazing demise.

“Fuck yes, that’s my girl.” Joe came to a standstill for a moment, letting your walls clench around him so he could feel the full effect of your release with you. Both of your moans falling into midair like a sweet melody. Giving you a moment to regain your stature, he continued to rail you as fast as he could, his sack slapping violently against your ass cheeks, he was chasing his own orgasm fast and hard.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, you take me so good.” He was panting relentlessly, making everything count. “You love letting this cock ruin your pretty little pussy don’t you?”Joe’s build up had begun, every inch right down to the base was throbbing, the tightness of you adding to the elongated pleasure. He pulled out of you before it was too late, fisting his cock over your cunt shortly after his seed exploded onto you, making a mess of your body. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his orgasm reached a sensitive point, his hand firmly still wrapped around his cock as the pumping became slower.

“You definitely kept to your word.” You mentioned still breathless, your chest falling and rising attempting to gain the oxygen back into your system.

“Maybe you’ll ruin me next.” Joe winked, offering you a hand to get you up steadily to go clean up the mess he had made.

[jonathantaylorthomas]

I just realized that the main demise of Joe and Taylor's relationship was that Joe didn't want to acknowledge all parts of Taylor. He accepted the behind the scenes taylor (they spent a lot of time away from the spotlights so im assuming they deeply knew eachother) but that he refused to acknowledge her other parts, that she is one of the greatest song writers of our generation and thus the hugest star of our generation. He spent so much time just trying to ignore that side of her, and pretending it didn't exist (like you see in his interviews) but that is a huge part of what makes taylor, taylor and you can't fundamentally ignore such a huge part of someone without it slowly rotting away at a relationship and the person, because ultimately with him ignoring her stardom, he was essentially ignoring her (especially when she started promo and started stepping back in the spotlight), fucking ouch. Like just fucking acknowledge that she is the GOAT, accept no one's career will ever compare (including joes) and gas her up, be private but acknowledge like yes I am with the best

.

[riacte]

rria . ria dont convert the timestamp of receiving this ask to est but i finished false episodes and i get it i understand the devotion and the homies and the protectiveness hoyljjy fuck save me 🦅🐕save me. beware of dog reapers watch out rendogss about false false false you won💥💥💥😺💥💥💥💥💥💥

RIGHT. THEY ARE SO SWEET IT MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE.

When I was watching the first part I was like ohhh she sounds SO soggy when he’s not talking to her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this soggy. And then it was slowly building and oh we’re really in it now.

BUT THE REUNION SCENE IS SO!!!!!! They’re so happy for each other 😭😭😭 False saying he deserves the win even though it’s her who won 😭😭 Ren coming in like YOU WON!! YOU WON!! :DDDDD

And I was already screaming and dying. But you can really tell how fond they are of each other. And False being more excited for the cool hat than the Demise prize and he literally promised to give it to her tomorrow when things had calmed down— and she won!! All the dots are connected.

And the end. MAN. “Watch out, Rendog is about” in all caps. Her putting his name and head on her build. And the giggle before the cut. And I’m left sitting here like OKAY THAT JUST HAPPENED. WOW.

I feel slightly insane because it’s like …??? It’s so obvious how core and special their friendship is to both of their contents on HC. Take a quick scroll through their thumbnails and they pop up every now and then. All the collabs. AND STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER IN GROUP RECORDINGS (this always happens). We even have major standout events like Blue9 and BRR and S6 neighbours. And now Demise because DUDE. THAT WAS CRAZY.

And still Tumblr (and both of their Twitch chats) seems to be the only site in which people majorly care about their bond? Does that make sense. Tumblrinas screaming and crying and filling up the main tags. Actually Twitch chat is the mvp here because I feel like every single stream of theirs has a mention of the other and chat is like :DDD we love you and the other person :DD. They’re invisible on blue bird site and THANK GOD and STAY AWAY. Orange app is a bit better bc at least the Mc Championship guys recognise them but you know when there was a post back in HC Reddit then asking for “underrated” duos and we had to post FalseRen because other people weren’t. Are they underrated? Do other people think they’re popular. Like Ren isn’t usually paired with False in fanon but I think most people have the awareness to include bits about their friendship? But still? I would’ve expected more… why aren’t they more popular like some other duos even after the five million obvious / dramatic / cute / wholesome stuff 😭 Ren’s favouritism gets worse every time I check in 😭

(I know. It’s because fandoms tend to like same gender pairs. But it does notttt explain why everyone happily pairs up Stress+Iskall and Joe+Cleo and it’s all recognised and these two are like …? oh yeah they’re friends. Right. They’re friends.)

Anyways this got long. That vid makes me soooo happy and it’s sooo good. I know Ren is probably going to make his next ep thumbnail his really cute hut but if False is also on there or it’s titled after something like “WE DID IT FALSE” I would further explode into millions of pieces. 🥺

[milesworld96]

My Predictions on who the Devil is or more so who I want it to be

LISTEN PLEASE HEAR ME OUT. We have Roddy going around claiming that he’s Adam’s Bestfriend, as well as MJF. But why don’t we bring back someone who also had a very close relationship with Adam Cole?

We have Adam appear at World’s End for MJF, have MJF win against Joe WITHOUT cheating this time. And after the match everything goes dark and the Devil comes out, the Devil attacks MJF; having Joe already left the arena and Adam being forced to watch his tag partner being harmed once again without him being able to help. After beating down on Max, the Devil faces Adam and removes his mask. Revealing my wife Kyle O’Reily. We go down the angle where Kyle is angry at Adam for choosing Max over Roddy when they had been together longer than he has with Max. (Referencing to their Undisputed Era/Elite days; ofc without Bobby this time💔). This spirals into another heart breaking and sob inducing story between Adam and Max; where Adam is conflicted between choosing the Undisputed Elite and Max once more, as both sides keep pressuring themselves onto Adam.

Eventually it comes to the point where Adam is forced to choose between them, at first appearing to Choose Max over them; before pulling the same shit he did to Roderick on NXT. Betraying Max, and reuniting the Undisputed Elite officially on AEW. This would lead ofc to a title match for Kyle O’Reily and Maxwell; with Roderick & Adam by his side (maybe the Kingdom if they still w Roderick at this time, we could replace Bobby with them ig). This would leave Maxwell all alone, and realize that everyone is truly against him and that he has no one left (since the Acclaimed basically said they wanted nothing to do with him too). So this betrayal of Adam and reunification of the Undisputed Elite will lead to the demise of Adamjf (when Cole gets better) AND the return of heel Max. Cus as much as I love babyface Maxwell, I need the douchebag he once was back asap.

Overall, if it really is Kyle O’Reily and I somehow manifested this into reality I think the adamjf story would be one of the greatest stories told tbh. I just really need the closure for them. And I rlly just want Kyle O’Reily back, I miss my wife💔💔. I’m not that good at making stories so I hoped this made sense💀 or atleast sounds a lil realistic

And here is the one that’s most likely to be true, but I already know the twitter fucks are gonna be pissed ab 💀💀

This is mostly just do to all the speculations and ppl (me) making fun of the whole real glass situation at All In, but what’s actually insane is the amount of glass was actually used and broken throughout the beatings people have taken with the Devil’s henchmen😭 like, Anthony being thrown through a glass window, Max having a glass bottle broken over him, and Hangman being dropped into a car windshield. Absolutely insane at how much glass they are using, that it’s honestly making me wanna believe that they are purposely using real glass as a symbol for Jack Perry.

Story wise I have no clue as to how they are gonna get this to work, and how they’d continue with it if they do reveal it to be Jack. Cause I know a lot of ppl are gonna be let down (not me I’ll just be happy my gf came back from war), but if it is Jack I hope tk knows what he is doing. And I HOPE that they can actually turn this into an interesting feud if this becomes reality 🙏🙏

But he could also just return and reignite the feud between him and Christian as well. But idk!!! I just need him back💔

[bugbbear]

NAMEMC SPOILERS BELOW (AS OF 1:12AM EST)

one at a time, with commentary

BEEF: a farmer? bros got a fit for SURE. and this one doesnt have bloodstains! yet!

BDUBS: im aware this is technically his default skin but i liked the moss cloak so im sad abt it.

GTWS: did bro get fucking mauled? wtf. hes got his abs out day one and then resets to this indiana jo- OHHH. HES INDIANA JONES.

IMPULSE: how did bro get demised its the first god damn day

JOE HILLS: weve known this one for a while but it hasnt made any more sense, nor have i wanted it to

the rest are their default skins, as of 1:26am est