#no one knows what Joe's real form looks like

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[zestyderg]

So Zesty you are bored huh? Well I came to the rescue! Hmm…. maybe for a doodle you could do a Human! Don Boneyard since we now have a Human! ZZ in our lives now. I always have wondered how we would have looked as a normal human. If no doodle then can you please tell me the origin of Swap! Joe? I feel like he’s gonna be tons darker than canon ZZ! Thanks! 💜

I've been brainstorming stuff for Swap! Joe for a while now. What I've got so far is as follows:

Joe is a cowboy from the 19th Century. Well... he disguised himself as a cowboy, because those are the humans he was around! He's a Midwestern Monster who's only real goal is to munch on humans, and he's terrifyingly good at it. Most people who are near him are relatively safe, granted that they're not alone. Joe still acts like his friendly canon self, so others actually like him, and he earns himself a pretty good reputation with the towns he visits as he wanders the countryside. He actually has helped people, but often times those people end up "returning the favor", and those are the people that magically end up missing. Speaking of magic, Joe does have magic like canon ZZ, but he doesn't really use it unless necessary. He's fine with going around meeting (and then eating) people.

Until one day someone witnesses him have a "late night snack". A kid who lives in the town Joe currently stays in, nicknamed "Pipsqueak", sees him kill and eat someone, and she flees, catching the attention of Joe, and when she runs back into town and tries to tell someone, they don't believe her, and Joe shows up, clean of blood and gore, acts innocent and confused, and offers to take her home, noting that what she saw was probably an animal. He's allowed to take Pipsqueak home (very much against her will), but when they're both out of sight Joe lifts her chin up so she's forced to look at him, but he doesn't harm her. He doesn't see her as a threat at all, in fact. He tells her everything he's done, and that he's going to let her live, because he thinks there's nothing Pipsqueak could do to stop him (and because he's not hungry). He also says that while he is quite patient, if she doesn't stay out of his business she may annoy him enough to reconsider the whole "letting her live" thing. He drops her off at her house and leaves.

He's gonna regret not killing her, because she actually works up the nerve to kill him herself. After constantly being watched like a hawk by Joe, being forced to act friendly with him (and him acting almost sickeningly nice in return), and dreading over her being next, she finally steals a pickaxe and impales him with it, fatally wounding him, and she flees before he can grab her and get revenge. Joe casts a spell as a last ditch effort to save himself, and when his body dies, out pops a magical skull.

So now he has to steal bodies to survive, and he can't exactly eat people anymore (technically he CAN but humans are not built for eating raw flesh like he is). So he just goes around body snatching and committing even more murders, angry that the human child he thought of as harmless actually had the gall to try to kill him (and nearly succeeded!). This time people catch on after Pipsqueak exposes him (fueling Joe's rage), and Joe is eventually defeated by the child and her brand new anti-magic hammer. The local cowboys seal Joe away in a custom made chest, lock it, and then bury the chest in a mine, hoping Joe will never rise again. Pipsqueak kept the hammer, and the hammer was passed down through her family as a sort of heirloom. It was also eventually named the "Pipsqueak Hammer" too!

Everything is fine for a while.

Then one day, Zongazonga explores an abandoned mine in the search for rare fossils, and stumbles upon an old, locked chest...

[kalashtars]

sometimes I truly genuinely forget nuance is dead on the internet and then I have to read people who should be on the same side argue about politics on the internet and I start wanting to bash my head into a wall.

[iwonderwh0]

It'd be a completely different media and wouldn't work for a multiple-choice game, but both Hank and Connor would be in such a completely different light if it was Hank-POV narrative.

You as a viewer would also think Connor is fucking annoying and you'd feel like breaking his nose the first time he brings up complaining about you to your superior. Like wow what a fucking capitalist dystopian police state is that where a fucking robot threatens you. And if he spills your drink? You fucking paid for it, and now it threatens that you'll have to pay for him too if you damage it? "Androids are there to serve humans" your ass, as far as you can see it's humans who are serving androids and CyberLife. Regular humans who pay for android's existence with their jobs, taxes and loved ones who prefer androids to them. CyberLife is holding the whole country hostage by their fucking things, and you even heard that some of their robots go crazy and recently one of them took a literal hostage? A kid?? The FUCK, how does things like that even happen?

You wish Cyberlife would be at least held accountable, but well, you lived too long to believe that they ever will. You know it from your own personal experience. Even if CL was made to pay some financial compensations, how can it be ever enough to "compensate" for the loss of someone who is fucking dead now, and what does a fine do to a multibillion dollar corporation? No one gets punished, nothing is done to prevent it in the future. For CyberLife nothing is changed, but for the people they harmed — nothing will ever be the same again.

You get assigned to android cases, as if you give a shit. As if anyone at all gives a shit. As if investigating any of this shit matters, as if it'll lead to some changes or get someone punished for letting it happen. Now you're forced to look at countless examples of this corporation fucking people over without repercussions. You don't even care to open those reports, they just make you feel too angry and hopeless. If after all those examples of harm they can induce androids are still allowed to be produced and owned what's the fucking point of looking into those cases? What is it you're supposed to do about them anyway, lay an egg?

Okay, fuck, you were dragged into looking at them despite your will, and now you are kind of confused what to make of it. You know those fuckers are made to look human, they are even made to laugh and joke to win your sympathy. But still, those androids you see don't really give you an impression of being broken, instead they look...

Maybe that's a stupid idea. And yet it won't leave you alone. It makes you angry because you genuinely don't know if you're just being a gullible fool or you're onto something.

The android that was assigned to you acts like your typical office Joe, the kind of people who even before the invention of androids gave off the impression of not being quite human. The kind that speaks like they've read way too many positive thinking books about success. The kind that describes themselves as "goal oriented" in a casual conversation and suggests colleagues to have a pointless team-building meetings.

You hate those guys even in their human form, so when you first expressed to that plastic Joe a desire to throw a bunch of them in a dumpster you're not entirely sure whether you're talking about just androids or this specific type as a whole.

While all the deviants you see appear to be really human that just happened to be in a bad place at the wrong time and make you feel doubts, the plastic Joe makes you feel fooled again whenever you look at it. Sometimes it does something that fills you with doubts, but then it goes back to rambling on about its task. It gets on your nerves, you wish you could just get a solid evidence of whether or not this thing feels something. You get real drunk and try to provoke it, to see if it'll react to a threat of death like other deviants you saw. It doesn't give you an explicit answer to your dilemma. You're left with your doubts on your own. Maybe this plastic Joe doesn't realise he's anything more than what he claims, or maybe he's perfectly aware and is just fucking with you. Maybe you just imagined a bunch of nonsense. Maybe that plastic Joe isn't like those other feeling androids you saw, and unlike them he's indeed exactly what he claims to be.

He gets killed right in front of your eyes. You can't help but feel bad -- after all, he still looks like a human and you feel like you "knew him" as a person in your life. Granted, one of the most annoying ones you ever met, but to even the most annoying Joes out there you don't actually wish death, even if sometimes you say you do.

You don't get to feel sad for long -- the next day the plastic Joe walks right back as if nothing happened, and ACTS as if nothing happened. It makes your blood boil and your eyes feel hot. It simultaneously makes you feel like a naive fool for ever bothering about it at all and like tearing it up with your own hands again so you wouldn't have to be next to it. Because you know you can't help but feel like it's a living person purely for how human-like it looks and acts, even when you know it's not.

Also it makes you think of how utterly unfair it is that something soulless can be brought back and keep "living" after a fatal accident as if nothing happened while so many actual and much more deserving people can't nor were ever given a chance. Nor ever will be.

It makes you even angrier to see how indifferent it acts to the fact of its own death, while you, a fool, felt like shit about it all this time and STILL feel like shit about it now. If you used to find yourself occasionally liking him before, whatever warm feeling you had are gone now that he's back after something that should have been a final stop. You can't stand looking at it, you wish to get as far away from it as possible, and yet you cannot stand the idea of it seeing it getting "killed" if front of your eyes again because you know that your human gut will twist all the same. But the way he acts, completely deprived of self-preservation instinct, as if at part intentionally trying to torture you, It just makes you hate him more. You try to grab him and stop him from what can potentially end in his destruction whenever you can. Not so much for his sake as for the peace of mind of your own.

The androids are marching on the streets chanting about being alive. They hijack a tv station and send their demands. If Connor didn't give you enough proofs to convince you, this finally does.

The question remains of whether all androids are just as the one you're stuck with. You spend the most time with it so, unintentionally, you project everything it does on all the rest of them. And if the only thing it reminds you of is this terrible nauseating injustice of the world that depresses you so much you already felt like disappearing from existence before you ever met and impunity of all those in power, maybe it's time for you to pull the plug already because there's nothing you want to see or stick around for anymore and only everything you hate that is left. And it will only ever gonna get worse, and you're too tired and helpless to do anything about it. And even if you weren't, perhaps it's just not worth it.

[mins-fins]

pearls.

&&. its easy to let go around you, mark is so glad he has you as an escape.

pairing: mark lee x m!reader

genre: angsty but it ends fluffy, idol x regular joe

warnings: mentions of overworking

word count: 1.4k

notes: wrote this for the n01 markf ever in the world!!!! if yk who you are, yk who you are 🫶 anw, i am so terribly in love with mark this is absolutely vile 🙁 save me from this insanely pretty canadian man (DONT SAVE ME), if you can forgive me for not updating for literally TEN DAYS, take this as my apology.. i am so so very corny so those little ending love confessions come from real words i have said to my own very real bf 😞 again sorry for not updating for very long my knee is pretty injured AND life is so shitty.. okay i love you all bye 😓

you won't try to come up for an explanation as to why you were up at one in the morning.

yeah you were tired, but you were still up making coffee in your kitchen. your mind was racing with thoughts of work, god your job stresses you out so much, it's going to end up killing you one day, you can't close your eyes without hearing the loud shouting of your manager and overbearing customers who think they own the world.

sleep has never came easy to you, so coffee at one in the morning it is. the aroma of roasted beans makes it's way around the air of your kitchen, a smell that has become a staple of comfort to you, yeah the excessive coffee intake might kill you someday, but right now? right now you felt like you were in heaven.

your coffee drinking is interrupted by a knock at your day, your head shoots up like your a deer caught in headlights, and you blink at the unmoving wooden door of your unit. you're not expecting anyone, and especially not at one in the morning. your mind races with questions as you place the heated mug onto your kitchen counter, groaning silently as you make your way over to the door.

you can't think of who could possibly be at your door, maybe your manager? one of your coworkers? a guy from amazon delivering a package originally for your neighbors?

the last option seems like the most probable one, so when you open your door, you prepare a small sentence for the delivery person you expect to be at your door. "for the last time unit 17 is on the second floo—"

you pause as you open the door, it is not a random delivery guy from amazon. when you look up to meet the eyes of the person who had knocked on your door, you come face to face with a person you had missed more than anything.

mark.

you find a small smile coming to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, but your smile falls as you take in how he looks. his eyes are red and puffy, he's fidgeting with his sweater strings, and he's bitten his lips so hard that they've begun bleeding. your lips turn downward at the sight before you, he looks stressed, he looks miserable.

"oh god, hi babe, i didn't even know you'd come around".

mark blinks at you, continuing to fidget with the strings of his sweater, the sweater he's wearing is one you bought for him back last year when you went on that trip to vancouver. "sorry" he whispers, blinking again. "i just— i don't know i feel overwhelmed".

you tilt your head, immediately getting what he meant by that. you open your door wider, pausing mark's fidgeting momentarily to grab his left hand to intertwine it with yours. "come in" you don't wait for his response, just tug his hand gently, lurching him forward into your unit and smoothly closing the door behind you.

you catch on to mark's heightened anxiousness, but he seems to be want to be avoiding that topic as much as possible. "did something happen?"

mark is quick to shake his head, way too quick, you narrow your eyes at him and his weird change in behavior. "no, nothing, i'm just.. work, it's all becoming just a little too much for me".

ah, a small frown forms again on your lips. mark is a hardworking person, you know that, but it sometimes all gets to his head, those unbearable thoughts that he's not doing well enough, the unbearable feeling of anxiety that settles whenever he thinks about his future as a musician, the feeling that he's not doing enough even though he already does so much.

you hate that this has become a familiar sight. a distressed mark with tears welled up in his eyes, clearly trying his best to stay put together as he stood in front of your door, each time, it seemed to be getting worse and worse.

you've seen mark at so many of his lows, many more than you like to count, and just the thought of him feeling like he isn't doing enough upsets you.

you're not thinking about anything else when you step forward, not your untouched coffee on the counter, not your shitty job, nothing but making mark feel better. your arms wrap around him instinctively, and you loop your left arm around his waist to pull him into a hug, a hug he doesn't try to fight.

you hear a small sniffle leave mark as you tighten your hold on him, a few years escape his eyes, wetting the top of your sleeve, but you don't care, much too busy embracing him. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry" your words are nothing but a small whisper in the expanse of your apartment, as if a secret shared only between the two of you, but mark hears your words well, he hears everything he has to. you raise and press a kiss to his forehead, an act of affection that just makes mark even more emotional than he expected.

"you shouldn't have to feel like this, you work so hard, you do so much.."

your mutters only get a small chuckle in response, and you just snicker as well.

mark has always found it easy to let go around you, it's been a staple of your relationship since forever, even before you began dating. around you, he doesn't feel like he has to put on a show, he doesn't have to live up to all of these unrealistic expectations. with you, he doesn't have to be world famous idol mark lee, he doesn't have to be star trainee mark lee, he doesn't have to be perfect, flawless mark lee.

with you, mark can let go, he can just be himself.

mark has no idea what he'd do without you.

when you pull away, arms still caged around mark, he doesn't let go immediately, head still pressed against your shoulder.

nothing else matters at the moment to you. so, instead of trying to move away from him, you let him begin moving you backward, you just allow for him to, lightly squeaking when he pushes you onto the couch and quickly moves to lay on top of you.

you giggle at his dedication, but he doesn't say anything more, just wraps his arms around you and lays his head onto your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. "you tired?"

mark just nods against your chest, letting out a small sigh as he cracks one eye open to glance at you. "y/n?"

"hm?"

"i love you.." he mutters, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. "love you so much, i'm so happy i have you".

you laugh. "mark—"

"hush" he places a finger against your lips, cutting off your oncoming words. "let me finish" he gives a tired smile as he continues.

"i can't believe how lucky i am to have you, your always here taking care of me and i.. i can never figure out how to repay you, you're one of the best things to ever happen to me, everything becomes much more bearable with you, i love you so so much it's literally driving me crazy".

you blink as you listen to mark pour his heart out to you. he has always been like this, oh you're so in love, even at some of his lowest points, he never fails to remind you that he loves you, and that he feels so deeply for you. his words always strike you in a strange place, they always get a smile and red face out of you.

oh mark lee always knows how to leave you speechless.

"hey" you whisper, noticing mark slowly looking away from you. "you don't have to repay for me for anything, i'm your boyfriend, i'm always going to look after you because you're wellbeing is important to me, and don't start with all of that, you're one of the best things to happen to me".

mark snorts silently. "love you".

"love you more".

mark leans closer, moving his soft hand against yours. "i know" he whispers.

you run your fingers through his hair, slowly coaxing him to sleep with your ministrations.

"good".

[solargeist]

What the relationships between different Hermits and Kid Xelqua are like:

POSITIVE!

Mumbo - Pretty positive all things considered. He manages to entertain him, and generally is a good uncle figure.

Scar - The favourite. Scar gives him unlimited access to snacks and all sorts of unhealthy food (much to Grian’s chagrin). Once gave him so much sugar, Xelqua entered a 5 hour long sugar rush. Grian still hasn’t forgiven him yet because it was an absolute nightmare.

Doc - Surprisingly positive. Despite Doc’s turbulent relationship with Grian, Doc has a soft spot for kids. He’ll drop any kind of tension when Xelqua’s around to not worry him. He’ll still absolutely body Grian, but usually when Xelqua isn’t looking.

Pearl - Due to her leniency, Xelqua likes her. He can get away with anything when she’s around and generally doesn’t impose any harsh rule of punishment on him

Etho - He just thinks Etho is cool (usually because he keeps maple candies in his pockets). An Ethogirl in the making.

NEUTRAL!

Joe Hills - He’s a living Sesame Street styled puppet and Xelqua keeps mistaking him for a normal puppet toy. He once nearly suffocated poor Joe by hugging him a little too tight around his neck.

Xisuma - Barely sees him and for good reason. Xisuma has enough on his plate as admin, he doesn’t need to have to add “babysitting a god” on his plate as well.

Impulse & Skizz - They help Grian out occasionally to watch over Xelqua. Typical fun uncles you can find, but Xelqua doesn’t know much about them or why Skizz gives him the heebie jeebies when he unfurls his Angel wings or when Impulse reveals his full demon form.

Gem - Like Impulse and Skizz, generally friendly with Xelqua, but he’s unsettled by her, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe he senses that Gem isn’t truly a deer satyr and something to do with the rustling in the forests and night and the lingering smell of blood on her.

NEGATIVE…

Cleo - She’s scary to him. Like how you would be scared of the principal when you were a kid in elementary school.

Cub - All the fireworks he uses this season are too loud for him. He has to cover his ears everytime he has to go near the shop.

Joel - Xelqua keeps walking in in Joel in the most embarrassing moments. Like seeing him cry in front of the statue of his wife because she isn’t in the server, falling down an entire flight of stairs, reading Iskall’s creepy Yandere letters, etc. There were several moments where Joel had to cover Xelqua’s mouth because he was about to air all his dirty laundry.

AKDNDJSKAK

of course Scar is the favourite, Xelqua would love his builds, he’d like the animals and Scars silly voices and rambles. He’d also love Scar’s off road wheelchair/ATV, it’s so fast ! He’d absolutely eat all of Scar’s snacks, he’d be talking a mile a minute when Grian shows to pick him up, he just silently glares at Scar.

I love when people draw Doc with Doccy on the server, just a big scary goat and his little goat kid, it’s why he has a soft spot around Xelqua, he’s so tiny. Tho I can only see them interacting if Xelqua accidentally ends up in his base area, got lost maybe. I think Xelqua wouldn’t be scared of Doc despite his looks bc 1) he looks like Scar’s zoo animals (big Goat) and 2) Doc has a kid too, so he’s gotta be safe. Grian is very confused when he sees Doc calling him.

The Joe Hills part almost made me choke AKDNDKSK Joe being a puppet is my favourite design it’s so silly. Xelqua watches a lot of TV, he’d be in awe… so happy to see a real life puppet… Grian has to grab his hands to stop him from choking Joe out.

I think Xelqua would just be intimidated by Cleo at first, he’d warm up to her ! Him being scared of Cub bc of the fireworks is so true tho, Xelqua very much hates the noise and is actively afraid of thunder, he’ll wake Grian up if a storm rolls in at night, and probably hide behind him if a firework went off and no one told him it’d be so loud !

poor Joel 😭😭⁉️⁉️ tho if Joel grabbed Xelqua and covered his mouth like that, Grian is immediately there, he crosses the room so quickly man Watchers don’t play around abt their kids 😭💥 Grian doesn’t even realize he moved or separated them, for a split second his brain didn’t see this as a joke or playing around. Joel gets to see those purple eyes up closeeee and shouts

this was very cute and silly to read ehehehe, also for some reason I think Xelqua would think that Xisuma is Grian’s uncle, no idea how he came to this conclusion.

[batboyblog]

Interesting thing to consider regarding our situation from Magdi Jacobs. She’s been fairly levelheaded so far about all this. The Pandemic really did change us all and how we perceive things.

The constant stressful vigilance we all needed during the pandemic is still in effect from that era, and that’s why there’s such a disconnect between what we see and feel as true:

https://x.com/magi_jay/status/1812531377184653581?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

I don't disagree with her, and I know for a fact she also agrees with what I have to say here:

Covid is part of it, maybe it is its own thing, maybe it super charged something that had been happening in slow-mo before

but I think algorithmic social media is breaking all our brains and Covid locked SO many of us inside with it for a year and a half or so where our only "human" contact was through social media and that was NOT helpful

There's lots of studies about social media and anxiety and depression, we know algorithms intentionally put stories/posts that upset you into your feed, we know that social media causes negative polarization.

speaking just of my own experience on twitter over the last two weeks it really challenges your sense of reality, twitter very quickly forms a group think about a current event and it becomes overwhelming, also it destroys any sense of time and prospective, so nothing is allowed to just be bad it has to be THE WORST THING EVER! and from the debate and now Trump's fist pump after getting shot at everything is NOW! the election is not 4 months away with all the events that will take over the news, people are voting just this second and only based on this news story rn! AAHHHH!!! !

by its short form nature twitter makes it feel as if people are having a conversation with you, but your ability to reply and question their statements is limited and I think that makes for extreme anxiety if the group think challenges your understanding of events/reality. So Joe Biden had a bad debate night, sounded bad, looked bad, he was a sick, jet lagged, overworked, old man and looked and sounded like all of that. Oh well, but the group think quickly shifted to "this is the worst thing ever, he clearly has dementia!" and you were bombarded by that over and over, in more and more shrill and condescending tones. And it became very stress inducing because people were seeing something you didn't see and insisting "don't believe your eyes and ears! believe my hot takes!" and you felt like you were losing your mind.

This is one current event but this happens on social media all the time, twitter is bad, TikTok is worse.

I also think for "younger" (under 40?) people raised on reality TV, and more so instagram, Facebook, now TikTok picture and video based social media there's a, life as reality TV show quality, an unspoken performance and need to make our lives seem perfect for an unseen (and not real) audience, and also to be seen as having the right views, but living in quick sand where liking or using anything could become a problem at any point and having to keep up endlessly. I also think this is intensely anxiety producing and also just debilitating, I don't think you can DO anything good in the world with that mindset

final thought: I've said for awhile I think why you see so many people declaring the economy is bad, regularly saying its historically, Great Depression levels bad, when it is in fact really good, as near to full employment as we've ever had lots of great economic indicators is left over Covid trauma.

We all went through a scary, sad, upsetting time in our lives. But because we ALL did if nothing happened to you particularly, you didn't get hospitalized, don't have long Covid, no one you're close with died and you couldn't be there for them, it might feel like "nothing" happened. So people are reaching for a "logical" reason for that edgy, sad, nervous, upset, unhappy feeling they can't get rid of. Normally that comes from economic anxiety, fear of not having enough money, or losing a job etc. So many people are reporting that they think the national economy is terrible while saying they think they themselves are doing well, that their local or state economy (that they see an interact with) is doing good, while the nation is doing bad, somehow. People are spending like they're doing well as well, never had it so good, never felt so bad.

I suspect its because we're all still dealing with Covid feelings, and thanks to social media, the death of common spaces, political radicalization, we never really came together and drew a line under Covid, it just kinda sputtered out and we slowly went back to our lives like nothing happened.

[mutual-monsters]

implications

Pairing: Roommate!Joe x M!Reader (agab not specified)

TW: dubcon, dark-ish/yandere themes, stalking, possessiveness, mention of masturbation (m), p in ✨ambiguous genital✨, creampie, slight praise, Joe is a major creeper

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Word count: 777

A/N: A combination of two asks–

“Hi, happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you enjoy it.

If you’d like, I’d love some Joe Goldberg smut, but only if you’re comfortable with writing it, of course. Honestly any plot I’ll love, but here’s a prompt if you’d like:

M!Reader catches Joe in their house, and confronts him. Joe tries to play it off, but reader doesn’t buy it. Something along the lines of “if you want me just say it” happens and, well, one thing leads to another.”

and 

“I am dying for a smutty Joe Goldberg x reader fanfic, maybe where they've been friends for a long time and finally Joe gets what they both want? Thanks 🙂”

It was just supposed to be a quick trip– in and out and never seen, never heard. He just wanted to break in look around for a while and maybe take a few things make sure you were safe. It was so simplistic; be in, be around, and be out before you were back from work.

Only, he hadn’t factored in the possibility of you coming home early. 

He had already looked through the dresser and under the bed when your car pulled into the driveway, but was too preoccupied with your laundry bin to hear the faint but audible click as the deadbolt unlocked. And, consequently, he was too busy shoving a pair of underwear into his bag to hear the sound of your feet padding gently down the carpeted hall, into your room and–

“Joe?” You ask, staring in amazement at your roommate as he rifles through your things, “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

He stops, questioning if this is real, and then briefly berating himself before turning to you with a, “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, no? Then, what is it? Because it looks like you’re stealing my boxers.”

This wasn’t the first time you had caught him in here, just the first time you’d confronted him about it. You had known he had been breaking into your room, and you had definitely noticed the missing underwear, but never did you actually think you’d see him in action.

“No, no, no, no! I swear, I just– I lost a pair in the wash and I came in here to see if maybe one of mine got mixed in with yours…” He trails off.

“Joe,” You start, closing the gap between your bodies as you speak, “It’s not that I don’t understand why you would do all of this, but if you honestly wanted me, you could’ve just said something.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, still in a state of fight or flight. A long pause. You speak up again.

“These walls aren’t as thick as you think, Joe.  I know you think of me when you fuck yourself.” A beat. “And I know you do it every night.”

His face, flushed red now, burns under the scrutiny of your words. Your eyes crawl over him, waiting for him to respond.

“I know you moan to my name to yourself when you think you’re being quiet.”

“I have not by any means meant to–”

“Do you have the blue ones? With the ducks? They went missing about two weeks ago and I’d really love to have them ba–”

His lips crash into yours, too preoccupied with the concept of finally touching, holding, possessing to care about formalities. 

His hands move to fumble with your jeans, pulling them off, pushing you toward the bed. His pants, too, now, drop to the floor as you pull off your shirt, him following suit. He looks you over, fully acquainting himself with your naked form, gathering the words to say, before finally, “You are everything.”

A slight chuckle from your lips, “Maybe to you.”

“Are you sure you want this?” Parts of him still don’t believe that this could possibly be real.

“Of course.”

He pushes himself inside you, basking in the feeling, the texture of your skin, your smell. He waits a moment, lost in the feeling, before bringing himself back, compelled by your request for him to move.

He’s slow at first, acclimating to feeling. His eyes search for yours, with pupils blown out and full of adoration. He is in more than love, more than obsession, morethananywordintheEnglishlanguage and he needs you to know.

As he picks up the pace, his lips rush to your neck, desperate to mark you, to make you his, and then to your ear whispering, begging for you. 

“Tell me you love me.”

You can barely get a word in before he speaks again.

“You don’t have to mean it, just– please.”

You don’t think, you just say it. 

“I love you, Joe.”

This sets him ablaze, igniting a feral side of him.

“Again.” He demands.

And you do. “I love you”.

It’s enough for him to come undone, coating the inside of you with himself, claiming you, he tells himself. He stays in the moment, bringing you to your own edge, and then absorbing the feeling entirely. 

He thinks, to himself, while still inside you, of what he’s just done, of what you’ve just done, 

of the implications. 

He looks down at you, again into your eyes, infatuated, and says, holding back a smartass grin– “I suppose I could give you those boxers back.”

[dogwittaablog]

NOLPATS BURNER ACCOUNT

SO HERE IS THE TEA AND BREAKDOWN ON NOLANS ALLEGED TWITTER BURNER (I also want to apologise for the initial hostile reply to the anon that sent it in I was just taken back cause there weren't upfront receipts).

If you’re wondering how this alleged account was figured out, an anon said someone tweeted about it and decided to look into it... and then now we are here...

SO HERE WE GO!

His FIRST account that went under @ gollpatter the account got suspended (He tweets about it on his second account, but you’re still able to see everything).

So now the account he is using the new one is @ shottergallas.

(So just remember there are two accounts. I know some can get confused lol).

WARNING: I know people are going to be running up the accounts anyways but will say just a heads up you will be finding shit that you don’t like mentioning SA and misogynistic comments, some of the comments are towards the incident of WJC 2018. (If I’m right it’s brought up on @ gollpatter)

Now we may all be here like okay… how do we know or assume it's actually him??? Here is my personal observation

If you look at the following on the first account @ GOLLPATTER. You can see that there are about 4+ people on there that he follows that are obviously his friends and has Steinbach Manitoba in the bio. Some of the content and influencers he follows or interacts with on there also align with his recent or past followings/likes/engagements on Instagram from celebs, influencers, sport hosts and even onlyfangirls (I’ll even get specific if I have to) . His interests are evidently displayed throughout his account... things like MMA, golf, hockey, Joe Rogan, Theo Von and other typical guy shit, but as I said if you followed up on him or paid attention to his Instagram activity it adds up. 

(Screenshot of his followings the only thing is they don't follow back)

An Anon that initially sent me the sub on why she thought or had her own conclusions to why she thought it was him which I’ll be copying and pasting the sub down below and adding the links to the info she provided! To make everyone’s lives easier.

here’s the account introducing himself as goll patt: (X)

here’s the account calling jets/ava pond hockey last night: (X)

here’s that account excited about nolan’s friends ‘coggie’ return to the ‘national’ 6 days ago: (X)

and the related headline where Dylan Coghlan, Nolan’s former teammate returned to the NHL from the AHL:  (X)

here’s that account being called pat by its friends in the reply of previous tweet: (X)

account being call pats/patty by friends:  (X)

same account agreeing with hate on the vegas golden knights as a franchise, praising nic hauge and his wife:  (X)

The hockey talk on the account that pop up usually I noticed has pertained to Vegas and the Flyers (some slight shady tweets mostly but nothing over the top) Maybe just some coincidence but I mean hey… we all know what teams he’s played for. Plus there are some Travis Konency mentions on there as well…

So “his” account interacts with the same 2-4 twitter accounts and these accounts tend to tag him in post about Nolpats which I found a bit ironic…

So the last to this which I thought was another eyebrow raiser, was another burner account that has some mutuals but isn't entirely active. Also tagged his account in a post regarding a Tik Tok. The context of the Tiktok was how most likely pro athletes do see the things you post online about them.

So would like to end this off with reminding you that this ALLEGED and there’s no real confirmation it’s him. You’re able to form your own opinion and perspective if you decide to look through and analyse the accounts yourself. I could go on more on some other details, but decided to just touch up on the things that stood out to me. I also was limited to adding content like photos and videos.

[annastylepie]

The messenger

Dp x Dc prompt 2 uwu

imadgine danny moves to gotham for a new life and trying to no longer be a hero decides to therefore move to a place that already has heroes and enoght ambient ectoplasm to sustain healty or something. I imadine this appening after jason just started as robin

What danny seems to only realize after a couplt weeks in the city is that the other citicents can't see all the ghosts around them, or well any ghosts at all not even him when in phantom form and that is when he isn't invisible. Why can the Amity parkers see the ghosts? I believe that all the ecto exposure gave them the ability or smth.

So danny goes around greeting the Ghosts talking to them chilling in random corners and vibing with different ghosts talking about live and death. I imadgine danny would help some ghosts into the Zone to help them. After some time and many recently deseased asking him to deliver messenges to their loved ones he gives and finds the families friends partners pets and in very rare cases even plants of the ghosts to deliver the messenges. Some ghosts feel ready to move on afterwards and go to the zone others stick around and regularly chill with Danny. I imadgine some would also just always stick around with him and might help him out at times like reminding him of some stuff or warning him when he is about to get mugged or jumped or whatever.

The Gothamites after some time take note of the deadly pale young man delivering the last masseges of their loved ones. He soon becomes a legend and if he approaches you with the look of sorrow you just know someone died or you will recieve the saddest "they loved you, they missed you, they are so so proud of you, they are sorry etc, etc" at times it seems that if you touch the massenger you can see the ghost of the ghost standing with you after delivering the massege and asking if they have any last words for the person to be delivered. Afterward the boy and the ghosts would dissapear from view

The young boy wandering the streets at all hours that can't be mugged jumped or even suprised is the legend you can't find him if you search for him nobody knows who he is or where he'd come from or where he'd go.

Some would call him cotton eyed Joe

Some Says he is a ghost

Others say he is a Grim reaper

Some says he is the murderer of the people whose massenges he delivers

and then others don't believe in him until they saw him with their own eyes

Whoever he is he is sitting dangerously close to the edge of a building currently as Batman is watching him. Batman makes a step closer to the boy. In the exact moment said boy turns around. A sorrowful looks comes over his face. He makes a step closer to Batman.

"Bruce Wayne" The Boy spoke looking seemingly right throu the cowl and taking bruce by surprise

"What?"

"your Parents are so Proud of you they hoped to have more time to be with you in Person."

"they wh-"

"They never blamed you and want you to know that they are so proud of you and your new family and to never forget what is important"

"I- they- "

"Do you have a messege for them?" the boy asks touching the hand of bruce. Bruce sees a flash of his parents next to him before reflexively pulling his hand back and slowing down.

"Is-Is this real?"

wordlessly the boy touches his shoulder and he sees them a tear escapes his eyes and a soft "I am so sorry" escapes and after the blink of the eye the boy and his parents disapear.

This was not how bruce wanted this to go.

He didn't see the boy again but not because of lack of trying but because there is litterly nothing to find of him it is like he doesn't even exist unless he stopped aging at some point. He does look a lot like the missing fenton kid from a couple years back.

However after jasons death after Nightwing tried to kill the Joker he sees the kid again not a day older then when he first saw him this time however bruce was just bruce and not batman.

"bruce wayne"

"yes"

" Your son Jason"

"Can I see him" he asks looking hopeful but unsetteld he was never this open he already acted weard when the kid showed up the first time. This wasnt any betters.

the boy touchers his shoulder and there he is his Jason his youngest bird, the late robin. Tears well up at the corner of bruces eyes but not letting them fall.

"I am so so sorry. I wasn't fast enoght I couldn't protect you" bruce weeps

"There was nothing you could have done. He forgives you for not saving him in Time. He wants Justice for his death and want s you to take care of it"

"I will do my best" not a moment after those words left bruces mouth the child and his late son dissapeared and Bruce has a mission. He will destroy the Jokers live he will make sure he won't hurt anyone ever again. But he won't kill him.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hey, I dont know if you do emergency requests or not, but can I make a sort of one?

My cats been missing for three days, I've had her since I was 11 and she is REALLY important to me(shes also never been gone this long). We just got a ton of snow, im worried for her and I overheard my parents saying they think our neighbor did something to her. Can I request Sk8 characters comforting their S/O in a scenario like that?

Hi Squeezy! I'm so sorry to hear about your cat, I really hope you find her soon. I hope you like the headcanons. I didn't include Adam or Tadashi but please let me know if you'd like headcanons about them as well.

The "good" ending can be found here and the "bad" ending can be found here.

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Miya Chinen, Kojiro Nanjo, Kaoru Sakurayahiki x gn! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your cat has gone missing! How will the characters comfort you in this time of need?How will the characters react?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reki is probably one of the best people to be around if you want your mind taken off the situation. He’s good at listening as well if you want to talk but his real talent lies in distracting you.

Having said that, he’s very adaptable so if you prefer being comforted in a different way, he can change his methods to suit you.

If you feel like talking or just need comfort, Reki gives fantastic hugs. He’ll sway gently side to side and rub your back or head.

If you want to go out and help look for your cat, he’ll tag along. That way he’s helping but is also with you for support.

Of course, he’d also take his skateboard out and skate around town looking for your missing fur friend on his own. But his first priority is making sure you’re okay.

Langa is the best listener out of everyone here. If you want to talk about what's happening or reminisce about good times with your furry friend, he's there to lend an ear.

Much like Reki, he's going to grab his skateboard and go around town trying to find any clues as to where your cat's gone. 

He'll ask around at S as well. While Reki might have some reservations about going up to a random person at S and asking if they've seen a cat around, Langa does have the same qualms.

Langa's not the best with physical touch but if you want hugs or any other form of physical comfort, he'll do his best.

All in all, he'll be a more quiet supporter in this situation. He'll do what he can to help but he's a lot more subtle than some of the others.

Oh, Miya is finding your cat and discovering every detail of what happened. He’s starting a search on every social media platform he has and is ready to take it to the news if need be.

A missing cat is no joke to someone who's favourite animals are felines so Miya is right there with you in missing your furry friend.

He's probably very attached to your cat as well so he's going to do whatever he can to get it back. If that means he has to call in some favours thanks to his standing and fame, he'll do just that.

Miya's not great with words or physical affections but if that's what you want to help you deal with the situation, he'll do his best.

If he gets to choose how to comfort you, he's going to just be in your presence. He may not be great with words or physical comfort but he's got a reasonably soothing presence.

Joe is taking you back to the restaurant, making you your favourite dish, calling Cherry so he can give you company, and setting out to search for your cat.

He’d be there in person but doing nothing while someone he cares about is hurting is hard for him, especially if he knows there are things he can do to help.

Joe will also print out missing flyers and stick them up all over town, keeping a few at the restaurant. Every customer he servs, he’ll ask if they’ve seen your furry friend (if they can give him any information, he’s offering a free dessert).

If you do particularly want his company, Joe will stay with you and make calls to a bunch of his connections from S so they can start the search.

He’s good at comforting people, especially if they want someone to talk to, either about the situation or about something else entirely. He’s a good listener and will respond at the right moments with the right words.

Cherry is the perfect combination of Joe and Miya: he's going to be hands on with helping to find your cat but he's going online as well.

He's also got more resources than Miya so he'll be sending out drones as well to scout the city in search of your cat.

He's also going to call in help from Joe. He knows that, as many connections as he has, his old friend has a lot of different connections that may also be able to help.

Because he can search remotely, Cherry will be able to spend a lot more time with you than the others.

He's very adaptable in comforting you so whether you want physical comfort, kind words, a good listener, or just someone to be with, he's got it covered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[ax-y10]

Step Aside

In which- Wilburs excited to see the Front Bottoms play, but you aren't so thrilled to be crowded in.

A/n: I'm pretty sure I recall the front bottoms playing at shaky knees and I got a real quick idea.

Chapter info: slight panic attack, crowded place, swearing, unnoticed anxiety (brief)

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

---

Wilbur didn't notice your increasing nervousness of being in a crowded area, to excited to see the Front Bottoms playing live, jumping around with his bandmates. You were previously squished up against his side, but now you had your phone out ready to text him telling him you were going to the bathroom.

He didn't realise you were starting to walk off until Joe tapped on his shoulder and pointed towards your distancing figure.

"Will? Bud? Y/n is over there. Go see what's happening for us, yeah?" Joe pointed out.

He looked over and saw you turning a corner, and that's when he started to rush towards you.

"Excuse me, sorry. Please move-" he trailed off, finally reaching your form, stopped when you heard his all-too-familiar short breaths, noted from when he gets scared of worried.

"Darling?" He whispered loud enough to not scare you, but also to not alert other people attending the festival.

You held out your arms on either side so he could wrap his arms around you, and that he did. He held you tight but not too tight, and kissed the back of your head to calm you, feeling your rushing breaths.

"Sweet? Match my breathing for me, please?" He spoke frantically, your breathing becoming more sparse and stuttered.

In, one. Hold, two. Out, three. Hold, four.

Ultimately calming down, you twist in his loose hold and bury your face in his neck, your slow tears falling down his shoulder.

You've never been good with crowded spaces your entire life. People think it's irrational: "How stupid? How are you going to do normal things?" One person stated. "Fucking pussy. Get over yourself," A kid in your school stated. The bullying got worse as you kept speaking about it to your close friends, your so-called trustworthy friends shared the secret. Your family also didn't help. They put you in Summer camps, made you do the shopping each week, made you do many activities that required you to be social, supposedly trying to cure your fear. You somewhat got over your fear, but this festival just broke down that barrier.

You broke away from the hug and went to sit down against a border near the edge of the festival, a few people scattered around but not too many to overwhelm you, him following you like a lost puppy to sit with you.

"Wil, you can go back over to the band. I don't mind. I'll stay here." Bu the denied everything.

"I've let them know I'm over here so I'll stay with you just to make sure you're okay."

You smiled and looked over to Wilbur to watch him jump along and sing along. He doesn't like festivals that much, much like you, but you loved how he was enjoying it so much, and it made you fall harder with each song that passed.

Your favourite song started playing but it didn't register in your head as you were too busy looking at your boyfriend jamming to one of his favourite bands. Once he looked at you and smiled, bobbing his head to the music, a large smile plastered on his face, did you realise it was your favourite song.

You soon got over the almost panic attack, and started enjoying yourself a bit more, however you were still at Wilbur's side listening to the various songs playing.

But everything came to an end eventually and once everyone was collected (after being hunted down by Ash) and back in the van, did you finally sit down and fully relax. You'd changed into warm, over-sized clothes from your boyfriend and laid down next to him in his small bunk, scrolling through your messages, winding down for the night. Little did you know, he was watching your smile appear on your face everytime you read the words "I love you" in a message.

"Are you having a happy session at the moment, Love?" He snapped you out of your thoughts.

"...no" You said mischievously, being incredibly obvious as it was a lie.

He threw his arm across your waist, taking your phone and pushing it under his pillow along with his, and snuggled his face into your shoulder.

"Wil, you can't fall asleep before me," You joked, but he grumbled and pushed his face harder against your shoulder.

"Don't get all pouty, I'm sorry. you can go to sleep."

And you watched him fall asleep, listened to his sleepy noises, and felt him relax into your touch as he got increasingly tired, leading you into a deep sleep.

[alpaca-clouds]

Imagining a better world after the apocalypse?

Now, there are only few followers here, who know me from twitter, I think. But those who do know, that my hyperfixation fandom before Castlevania (though one without much in terms of fanfiction) was Mad Max: Fury Road. Like, I still fucking adore this batshit movie! The action is awesome. The color grading is amazing. And Charlize Theron is.......... Look, I have exactly one celebrity crush and it is this woman, alright?

But let me get to the point. The point is, that within that fandom I had quite a few discussions about one question: "Is Immortan Joe right with how he runs this place?" (Spoiler: My answer is "no".)

Weird question, given that Immortan Joe is the antagonist of the movie and a pretty shitty dude, who only perceives other people as his property that is supposed to serve him in some way or form.

But here is what those people would argue, who would argue for him actually being right and the end of the movie actually spelling desaster for that post-apocalyptic desert society, he has build: "Well, water, oil and sulfur are rare ressources in this post-apocalypse, so one would need to distribute it carefully. And if Furiosa is to establish a more equal society in the end, there will not be enough to go around. Just look at the water. If you leave it running like that, you would empty the reservoir within a couple of days!"

To which my answer always has been: "Our you could just create a better method of sharing the water with everybody. Like faucets. Instead of letting most of it go to waste on the ground. And you can just... not build an entire military based around gas-guzzeling cars and instead use the big advantage of the citadel that it is self-sufficient and super hard to conquer."

But... I think this argumentation also kinda reveals a certain cynicism people have been trained to use to see the world. We are trained to see the world as a "wolf eat wolf" society. That we need scarcity and that there needs to be an underclass of people.

But of course... This is just wrong. Even that post-apocalyptic society in that movie can actually turn into something nice. Into something better.

Especially as all the argumentation people have going on there, ignores one of the greatest things that the citadel has: Knowledge. There is tons of old knowledge through the books that are still there. Books from the old world. Books in engineering. On other things as well. And adding to that, they also have the oral knowledge of the vuvalini in the end.

And because I cannot help myself to bring this from my last hyperfixation to my current hyperfixation: Take the end of the Castlevania Netflix series, for example. Like, sure, most characters have a happy end. But that is not the hopeful thing about it. Because the series ends on the expressed goal of sharing knowledge. The vampires have collected all this knowledge the entire time. Knowledge of technology and medicine. But they have done basically nothing with it, but making their own living kinda nice. I mean, heck, why do vampires even need knowledge about medicine given that they apparently do not get sick and can heal all wounds within minutes.

And then the series ends on the expressed goal of sharing the knowledge. Isaac gets inspired to share his knowledge by the end of the series - and given that he ends up with access to the Styrian library he can share that knowledge as well. And we already see by the end, how the people from Danesti are both in the Belmont Hold and the library of the castle, are learning things.

You could argue, that what happens in the show is, from the perspective of the average person, the apocalypse. Like, there is literal fire raining down onto the earth. But... By the end of it. There is the potential to build a better world. A world, in fact, that would be better than what actually happened in the real world after 1476.

And I think that is just so darn hopeful.

I wished media would explore this more.

[pastafossa]

🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

 “Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

  “Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

  “You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

[imaginexwwe]

SPRING BREAK 3 - Roman Reigns

TIME SKIP (AGAIN) (PRETEND ROMAN WAS TRIBAL CHIEF IN 2015 CAUSE... YEAH LOL) ☝🏼🩸

•

REAL NAMES WILL BE USED

•

Y|N'S MYSTERY MAN IS FINALLY BACK AND SOME REALIZATIONS COME TO LIGHT

•

PART 2 (×)

•

"Thanks." Colby's longtime friend, Joe said said as he took the beer Colby held out to him, wasting no time to open it.

Colby nodded, trying to hold back a chuckle as he watched how fast Joe downed the second beer Colby had just passed him a minute ago. "Why do you seem more stressed than me?" He asked bringing his own beer to his mouth, taking a quick sip. "I'm the one who's out of work with a messed up knee."

Joe shrugged. "It's nothing."

"We're brothers so I can tell when something bothering you." Colby pushed, trying to get Joe to tell what's up. "Talk."

"Alright..." Joe mumbled with a sigh.

He still didn't want to talk but he knows Colby well enough to know he won't give up until you tell him something.

"It's this girl, I met a few months ago. Possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever met..." He began saying, as memories of his short time with Y|N in Miami started flooding his mind. "I gave her my number and she never called. Which I don't understand because I thought she was into me." He added, remembering how Y|N had been the one to invite him up to her room the first night they met and how she had invited him back on her last night in the city but he couldn't because of his work schedule.

"Basically, what you're saying is that you finally found a girl that could resist you?" Colby asked with a chuckle. "Dude, I told Jon the day would come when you finally find out what rejection feels like."

Joe, scrunched up his nose at Colby's statement.

Rejection?

I definitely wasn't rejected.

Joe smirked, trying to play off what Colby had said. "If anybody was doing the rejecting it was me when I told her I couldn't spend the night with her again." He sighed, taking another sip of his beer. "I just don't know why she didn't call."

"Maybe the sex sucked..?" Colby wondered, hie statement coming out more in the form of a question.

"Nah," Joe said smirking even wider. "The sex was some if not the best I've ever had so I kn-"

Colby furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. "Why it sounding like you in love?" He said chuckling again.

Probably because I may have been falling, Joe thought to him self.

But of course he wasn't going to admit that.

"I'm just saying." Joe, shrugged trying to play off what he'd said. "The way I had her screaming my name that night. It was no way she didn't enjoy it. If I wanted her to, she would've been calling me daddy." He finisned, laughing with Colby.

Which is weird why she didn't call...

"Women are wei-" Colby started saying, before being interrupted by someone calling his name.

Both Colby and Joe looked up to to see Tori.

•

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

OH MY GOD, was the only thought that Tori was able to form as she walked out to the back yard through the glass sliding door, looking for Colby.

And finding Y|N's Miami lover in the process.

What is he doing here?

"Tori..." Y|N's older brother called out to her, bringing her back to reality. "What do you want?"

Tori, swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving Joe and his never leaving hers. "I-I um..." She stuttered. "Who's he?" She asked already knowing who the man was.

He's the man that's got her besties life in shambles.

But who was he to Colby?

And how did he know Colby enough to be sitting out, laughing and drinking beer with him?

Colby laughed, shaking his head, probably assuming the reason Tori couldn't form a clear thought was because of the man she couldn't help but stare at. "Why?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice.

"Just curious, Colby." Tori answered, flashing a innocent smile as she side eyed Joe. "I've just never seen him around."

"A friend from work, Tori." Colby replied, causing Tori to raise an eyebrow. "From WWE." He clarified, this time earning a nod from Tori.

Tori stood there a minute longer trying to think of anything else she could question Colby about Y|N but before she could even form one to ask Colby again spoke, this time raising his eyebrow to her.

"Is there anything else?"

Tori groaned. "I was trying to think."

"Think upstairs." Colby immediately replied, pointing between him and Joe. "We were having a conversation.

"Fine." Tori pouted, turning to leave the two guys outside.

I've gathered enough information anyways.

As soon as Tori was a bit of a distance away, Joe glanced over at Tori. "Who's she?"

Colby shrugged. "My little sister's bestfriend." He answered, looking over at Tori as she continued to walk away at a suspiciously slow pace. "And she's kinda like a second sister to me." He added, taking note of the thumbs up He got from her in return.

Joe nodded. "I didn't know you had a sister."

"Oh, yeah." Colby said. "Her name's Y|N." He said, downing the rest of his beer. "She's a lot less annoying than Tori." Colby said, smirking when he heard Tori scoff. "You're gonna have to meet her some time. Both her and Tori just finished their second year of college so she's home a lot more."

•

"Oh, so she's like twenty one, twenty two?" Joe asked, laughing to play off how nervous he was feeling. "If I didn't see how old Tori looked I'd think you were talking about a child when you say little sister."

Colby shook his head, laughing also. "Yeah, Y|N complains about that constantly. He replied. "But no she's nineteen for another month."

Joe's eyes widened as his friend continued to talk about his sister.

Y|N.

Her name's Y|N?

It's gotta be a coincidence, right?

I mean what are the odds that the girl he was just talking about would happen to be Colby's little sister?

It's been months but if he remembers correctly, Y|N did say Tori was her best friend.

But people have more than one best friend.

Take him for example, Colby's his best friend but he also has Jon for a best friend along with his cousins who are family bit still his best friend.

In a matter of seconds Joe found himself spiraling.

There was no way in hell he fucked Colby's sister.

"Man, I gotta piss." He said jumping up. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the left." Colby mumbled, giving Joe a look as if to say he could've just asked where the bathroom was and left the piss part out.

But it was the fastest lie Joe could think of, and he definitely wasn't in the right mind set to think of a better way to say it.

Joe nodded, silently getting up and rushing inside the house.

Where did she go? He silently asked himself, looking around for Tori.

"Looking for me?" Joe heard Tori ask, as she propped herself up against a wall in the hallway leading to the bathroom Colby had given Joe directions to.

"I'm looking for Y|N." Joe admitted with a sigh. "But she's not home is she?"

He watched as Tori shook her head, giving him that same glare from earlier. "But even if she was, she wouldn't want to see you after you played her." Tori answered. "Y|N sees you for the person you really are."

"What?" Joe asked, furrowing his eyebrows, completely confused by what Tori was insinuating about him. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Tori gasped, looking at him in disbelief. "Giving someone the wrong number after pretending to like them, is you doing nothing wrong?"

"What?" Joe asked again, even more confuse than he was a minute ago.

"I mean, if you just wanted meaningless sex, you shouldn't have taken her put on that date, Joe." Tori continued, ignoring him. "Because that date made Y|N think you was actually into her, only for her to find out you gave her the wrong number, and you might have even gave her the wrong name because we tried to find your socials and there was nothing that we could find. But I guess that's a given cause you never even told her your last na-"

"I am into her." Joe admitted, cutting Tori's rambling short. "I just figured she wasn't into me since she never called."

Tori groaned. "How was she supposed to call when you didn't even give her the right number?" She questioned, pulling out her phone and showing him the screenshot of the number Y|N said Joe had given her. "Admit it." Tori said, as she held her phone in front of Joe's face. "This isn't your number."

"That's not my number."

"I fucking know." Tori said, nodding. "Becau-"

"Y|N, got four zero, when it's zero four." Joe said, letting a laugh escape from his mouth.

Tori pulled her phone back from Joe's face, looking at it for herself. "She got the numbers backwards." She said, face palming herself before laughing also. "But wait." Tori said, getting serious again. "Why couldn't we find your social medias?"

"They're under my wrestling name." Joe immediately answered.

"Which is?"

"Roman Reigns." Joe said, as he watched Tori quickly typed in his wrestling name into Google, giving each social media profile that popped up in the search, a quick check.

Tori nodded, letting out a sigh. "Y|N's gonna be so relieved when I tell her she didn't get knocked up by a catfish." She mumbled, her eyes immediately getting huge as she realized she had said something that Joe wasn't supposed to hear.

She's pregnant?

Not only was Joseph just unknowingly bragging about sex with his best friends little sister, to his friend himself...

But he got her pregnant too?

"I'm fucked."

•

PART 4

•

T A G S -

@southerngirl41

[filthyjoetini]

Love is in the Air(BnB)

a/n: Here we are guys. The epilogue. The real end. It’s done. Thank you, my loves, again for reading, I honestly never anticipated that this little story of mine would get so big. And the feedback! Ugh! Love it (keep it coming eheh) As always, the biggest thank you goes to @barfightzanddiscolightz​ she’s honestly the MVP here. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I love you very much.

warnings: mentions of sexual acts, a little bit of drama, panic attack, we are scared for someone’s life but only briefly...fluff!

wordcount: 2.9k

part 1 - Friday night - part 2 - Saturday - part 3 - Sunday - part 4 - Monday - part 5 - Tuesday - part 6 - Wednesday - part 7 - Thursday

Epilogue

As promised, you immediately let him know that you had landed when you disembarked the plane. You opted for a quick WhatsApp message since you didn’t want to call him while walking to the baggage claim area of the airport. Just as you were about to pocket your phone again, it started to ring. It was an incoming FaceTime call from Joe. You had debated to just let it ring, but you were sure this would have started a disastrous chain of events such as him calling the airport and demanding a search party be formed to come look for you. Sighing, you eventually answered the call and were greeted by his huge, infectious smile which you returned with a grin of your own and a slight blush on your cheeks. You stayed on the phone with him until you arrived at the door to your flat. Since you were too tired now and needed to lie down for a bit, you promised to call him again later to show him around your place. After a short protest from Joe, he begrudgingly let you end the call.

Over the past few months, Joe and you had been in contact daily either through WhatsApp or, as you quickly discovered, his favourite mode of digital communication — FaceTime.

At the end of each workday, like clockwork, you would let him know that you were free to talk. Whenever he had been available, he would immediately call you. Sometimes he had sent you a short message that he was in the middle of a meeting, an interview, or whatever else he had scheduled that day. You would talk for hours until one of you had fallen asleep. Usually, it had been you, and Joe would always stay on the call a bit longer to admire your sleeping face. Some evenings it would even get a little steamy and you would have non-conventional phone sex. At first you had found it to be very weird, doing it with your cameras on. The whole “What are you wearing?”- conversation had become redundant and seeing each other totally naked had left nothing to the imagination. After the second time, you had told Joe how uncomfortable you felt doing it through a video call and that you needed a better solution because “phone sex is about listening and imagining”. At first, Joe had laughed at you, but he had noticed rather quickly that you were serious about it. After some trial and error, you had both come up with a way that made you feel better about it and him still be able to see you. It had involved a blindfold on your end.

Sometimes, you had little dinner dates over the phone which consisted of you both cooking the same dish and then eating it together. On your first FaceTime-Dinner-Date, Wesley had walked in, called you both crazy, and completely took over the conversation by stealing Joe’s phone. Joe had tried to pry the phone out of his best mate’s fingers but to no avail. He had quickly given up and ate his dinner alone in the kitchen whilst Wesley chatted away, making you giggle throughout the whole conversation. Wes had even ended the call before handing the phone back to Joe, who instantly called you back again and apologised profusely. You had just kept on giggling and told him it was alright.

Other times, you had both continued watching Stranger Things together and managed to finish the whole series within three weeks of arriving back home. Sometime during the fourth season, you had changed Joe’s contact icon in your phone to a picture of Eddie, causing you to loudly giggle at the screen every time he had called you. After the third call, he had asked you what was going on, so you sent a screenshot of his contact information to him, earning you an eyeroll and groan. You still hadn’t changed it back to a normal picture of him to this day, and you didn’t plan on doing it for a long time. Eddie would stay.

As May had ended, the month of June heralded a lineup of conventions for Joe in the United States. He had almost missed his first appearance in Philadelphia because there had been an issue with his passport. He had been live-informing you through WhatsApp about what was happening and it honestly was the most nerve-wracking ordeal you passively had gone through. You were glad that he had still managed to attend even though it had only been for one out of the three days. That day, he had called you from the backstage area and showed you around, even introducing you to a couple of other guests along with one of his Stranger Things co-stars who had also been in attendance.

A week later he had attended the same convention except this time in Dallas, where he spent three wonderful but very hectic days. He hadn’t really had time to call you during the day but on his last night there, he facetimed you, sporting a happy but very exhausted face. Because of the time difference you had almost been ready to get your day started but you noticed that something had been bothering him. You had asked him if he was alright to which he just shrugged. Your elongated “Jooooooe…” had made him chuckle lightly and he eventually revealed to you that his time in the US would be cut short because he had to start filming Gladiator 2 very soon and therefore couldn’t go the convention in Denver. Joe had told you that he felt like the most horrible person on earth because he hated letting his fans down, but his main job was acting and filming was a priority. You had assured him, that his fans would understand, and he agreed, telling you he just wanted everyone to be happy.

As June had faded away, the beginning of the new month meant that Joe would be shipped off to Malta to commence filming Gladiator 2. You had mentally prepared yourself for his long workdays and sparse interactions. Your daily video calls had been reduced to quick WhatsApp voice messages or even just short text messages that read: “I hope you slept well.” – “I did, I hope you did too.” to “I miss you.” – “I miss you more.” to “Sleep well.” – “You too.”

Every now and then he had sent a picture of himself dressed in Roman Emperor attire or silly selfies with his co-stars. The latter had always brightened your days and you had decided to print them out and make a little scrapbook of his time on set. You couldn’t wait to gift it to him when you got to see him again, which you had hoped would happen sooner rather than later.

Filming had concluded in August and September already had its first foot in the door. You would have been lying if you said that those two months passed by in a flash. It had been the exact opposite. The days had seemed to never end and your work being a total pain in your arse hadn’t helped either. You had longed for the day Joe would finally call you and tell you that filming was over and that you could resume your daily FaceTime calls.

---

As the familiar ringtone pierced through the silence, you were over the moon. You instantly took the call, thrilled to see his very tired yet undeniably handsome face.

“Hey, darling.”

“Oh, finally. Hi, baby!”, you greeted him, almost over-enthusiastically. “I missed your face so much.”

He chuckled softly, scratching his jaw lightly.

“I missed yours too. Babe…listen, I’m about to board the plane. I’ll call you when I’ve landed. OK?”, he explained, and you nodded, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He giggled softly at your expression and puckered his lips, making a kissy face at you. You returned his gesture before he ended the call.

Flights from Malta to London usually took around three and a half hours, but after you hadn’t heard from Joe in four hours, you were slowly but surely starting to freak out. You checked if the flight number he had texted you had landed — It had. You tried to message him on WhatsApp, but it only showed you one tick, which meant it didn’t go through. You tried to FaceTime him but the message that it was currently unavailable popped up on your screen. Lastly, you tried to call him on the phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

Dropping your phone onto the sofa, your breathing started to become shallow, and you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. Something very bad happened to Joe, you were sure of it. He would never forget to call or even just text you. He knew how much you worried all the time. He knew how easily things like that triggered you.

Slowly, you sank down onto your sofa, preparing yourself for the panic attack that threatened its way through your body. Your mind became all foggy and your heart was racing so you had to lie down on your back because the lack of oxygen in your blood was causing spots in your vision. Swallowing hard, you tried to even out your breathing with the exercises your therapist had shown you. After about five minutes of slow, deep, and gentle breaths in through your nose and out of your mouth, your panic attack dwindled to silent tears steadily flowing down the sides of your face and onto the cushions of your sofa.

With trembling fingers, you picked up your abandoned phone to check if Joe had in some way gotten back to you. He hadn’t. Your shaky fingers scrolled through your contacts and found Wesley, quickly pressing the call button. He answered after the second ring.

“Hello, love. Long time no see...or hear...or...whatever.”, he greeted you in an overly chipper tone.

“Wes.”, you choked out, “Have you heard from Joe? He should be home by now. Please tell me you’ve seen him!”

“Whoa, what is going on?”, Wesley asked in a surprised tone. “Love, are you alright?”

“No! I’m not alright.”, you sobbed into your phone, getting it all wet with your salty tears. “Joe told me he would call me as soon as he has landed, and he hasn’t.”

“What? Joe’s flight has not landed yet. He’s still in the air. What are you talking about?”, Wesley responded, chuckling lightly.

“No, it has landed. I checked the flight number he gave me.”, you replied, slowly pushing yourself up in a sitting position, growing more irritated by the minute.

“Hold on. Let me check.”, Wesley said, and you heard him shuffling around. When he spoke again, he sounded a bit further away, indicating that he had set his phone on speaker mode. “Alright, I just checked again, and it says that the flight is still en route. That means, it’s still in the air.”

“I know what that means, Wesley.”, you replied in a rather snappy tone whilst wiping away the last of your tears with your free hand. Wesley couldn’t help but laugh at your sudden change of attitude.

“I think you got the wrong flight number there, love.”, he pointed out the obvious and you let out a deep sigh, allowing yourself to fall back onto the sofa.

“Yeah, I guess.”, you mumbled, running your hand down your face.

“Yeah. Also, we both know Joe would never not call you. He’d commit murder and other heinous crimes before deliberately hurting you like that.”

Wesley’s exaggeration elicited a low chuckle from you, and you let out another deep sigh. You were just about to ask him if he could give you the correct flight number when he suddenly spoke again.

“Listen, love. I gotta go. Don’t worry too much. He will call you. I miss you! Bye!”

“Wes! Wai–“

Before you could even form your sentence, Wesley had already ended the call. Groaning, you placed your phone back next to you on the sofa, inwardly scolding yourself for freaking out like this and making a fool of yourself. You just really hoped that Joe’s flight would land soon and that your most anticipated phone call of the day would finally be made to your phone.

You were moping around in your living room for a full five minutes when instead of your phone, your doorbell rang. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up to your feet and slowly trudged over to your flat’s entrance door, cursing out whoever had decided to disturb you in your current state of distress.

Opening the door, you muttered your well-rehearsed phrase for whatever salesperson was standing in front of it.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I’m not interes–“, you stopped short when you saw who was standing there in front of you. “JOE?!”

“Hey, babe.”, he greeted you with a huge grin on his face. You stared at him in awe. He was standing there, dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and Adidas “Superstars” on his feet. His hair was in a dishevelled mess and his eyes appeared weary and tired. Behind him stood a huge suitcase and he was holding a small pot with pink peonies in his arm.

You blinked slowly before your face grew irritated. You took a step forward, lifted both of your arms and placed them on his lower arms before pushing hardly, making him lose his footing and stumble backwards a little.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”, Joe asked surprised, managing to regain his balance.

“I…”, you started, sputtering with anger. “How dare you not tell me! How dare you give me the wrong fucking flight number! Wesley knew, didn’t he?! How dare you not call me! I was worried sick, Joseph!”

Joe chuckled lightly and took a step toward you, bending down to put the potted flowers on the floor. When he stood straight again, he extended his arms and engulfed your anger-shaken form in his arms.

“Darling, if I had told you, it would’ve ruined my surprise…so… surprise!”, he explained softly, placing a tender kiss to your temple. When his lips left your skin, you leaned back a little to look up at him. That utter idiot was grinning down at you.

“You’re really here.”, you stated breathlessly, slowly wrapping your arms around his middle, and placing your head on his chest. He was here, in the flesh. You could hear his heart beating in your ear. He was here. Here in the stairwell of your residential building. Here on the doorstep of your flat. He. Was. Here. Letting out a deep breath, you hugged him closer to you.

“I am, yes. And I’m not leaving…for at least a month.”

His revelation made you slowly lean back and look up at him again. Your eyes found his dark caramel ones. His head dipped closer to yours and you slowly pushed yourself up on your toes to close the distance between the two of you. After three long months, your lips finally captured his in a tender kiss again. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and Joe deepened the kiss gradually.

Far too soon, you ran out of breath, releasing his now well kissed lips from yours.

“A month?”, you whispered against his mouth.

“At least, yes.”, he confirmed his previous statement, running his hand up and down your spine.

You nodded and suddenly, tears started to roll down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto Joe’s t-shirt.

“Noooo, baby, why are you crying?”

“I missed you so much.”, you replied, trying to suppress a hiccough. “These are happy tears.”, you clarified instantly, and Joe only nodded, placing another soft peck to your lips.

“I missed you too, so much.”, he hummed and pressed his lips from the corner of your mouth to your cheek in a series of sweet butterfly kisses.

“I’m still angry with you for not telling me that you were coming. You’re an idiot, do you know that? You’re lucky I love you.”

Joe abruptly stalled his actions. It was now his turn to lean back, his eyes searching your face in response to your seemingly casual love confession.

“You love me?”

“Duh!”

“Good, because I love you too.”, he confessed, chuckling softly before planting a big wet kiss to your lips. You rolled your eyes and giggled gently.

“Please come inside now.”, you invited him in, “I don’t want Gertrude to get a stroke from all the PDA we’re treating her to.”

You had been referring to your elderly neighbour who was well known for being the building’s resident spy and gossip spreader. Joe took a step back and bent down to retrieve the potted peonies before he made his way into your flat and spoke again.

“Can I meet Gertrude?”

“No, you can’t.”, you replied chuckling, following him inside, “Wait, babe, your suitcase!”

“Oh, right.”, he quickly turned around, grabbed its handle, and pulled it inside, “Why can’t I meet her?”

“Joe. No… if you go over there and introduce yourself, I’ll make you sleep on my sofa for the entire month.”, you threatened him idly, walking back to your flat’s entrance door just as Joe had entered your flat.

“Fine. I won’t.”, he promised you, bending down once more and placing down the potted plant in your hallway. When he stood up again, he grabbed the suitcase and walked by you - but of course, not without gently slapping your bum and giggling like a little child.

“...very thin ice, Joe.”, you chuckled as you closed the door behind you...

THE END END

Taglist: @ohmeg​ @daleyeahson​ @lma1986​ @palomahasenteredthechat​ @mandyjo8719​ @aysheashea​ @eddiebaemunson​ @xlilithb @freakymunson​ @sidthedollface2​ @i-wont-run-this-time​ @plk-18 @miserybeans​ @kylakins88​ @deadspellz @thehillzhaveeyez​ @kayleeelena97 @foreverjosephquinn​ @punctualhowell​ @icallhimjoey​ @ghostinthebackofyourhead​ @siriuslysmoking​ @hollster88​ @cancankiki​ @definitionwanderlust​ @eriancrow @1paire2vans​ @theonewiththecrackedmind​ @fromasgardandback​ @captainonaboat​ 

crossed out = cannot tag