#sleepy joe has got to go

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

Listen up you ignorant sheep.

He lies about everything is the point of me posting this.

He didn't have the power himself to ban fracking cause the state and federal government have control of the land involved and the laws and the regulations they passed due to democrat climate change agenda which Joe Biden is a democrat and said he agrees with climate change many numerous times himself. Look that up. Strange how only democrat areas banned fracking, eh?

He didn't stop them, he didn't try to find any way to reach any compromises, he left them go ahead and push their agenda forward. Why? That's what democrats do.

Look online, I posted a few things to prove you jerks wrong and nobody said a word cause there's the proof. There's tons of stuff online about it across the country, but I'm from Pennsylvania so I found a few examples close to home. Believe me there's a shitload online. I only picked a few cause I shouldn't have to waste time looking shit up cause nobody else is willing to cause they're too busy posting TikTok videos of silly animals and crying on Facebook they had a bad hair day.

We were energy independent, we weren't relying on other countries for oil or fossil fuels of any kind until Joe Biden came in passing executive orders that reversed every single fucking thing Trump put into effect to better our country. And that's why Trump jokingly said he'd be a dictator on day one cause sleepy Joe did that exact same fucking thing to him & our entire fucking country.

You assholes must like paying more for gas and helping terrorist countries earn money to buy weapons to murder people. Where are we getting our oil from you idiots? Joe depleted our oil reserves and prevented the pipelines on American soil from being completed while letting Russia finish theirs. Then rejoined that Paris Agreement that Trump took us out of to be more energy independent and free from environmental climate regulation nonsense.

You like funding China so they gain power? They can frack & mine for minerals to build your fucking electric car batteries and cell phone batteries which we could be doing ourselves if not for the democrats.

You might wanna look online to learn gas and fossil fuels are used in a lot of everyday products not just to make your cars drivable and heat your homes.

Perhaps if you'd look things up and do some fucking research instead of playing candy crush and gambling online you'd realize how wrong the democrats really are.

[jangillman]

BREAKING: Prosecutors revealed to the jury that Hunter Biden didn't just sleep with his late brother Beau's wife Hallie, he also got her hooked on crack.

Hallie is set to testify in this case and mysteriously Joe Biden visited her a few days ago. Most likely trying to buy her silence about their family dealings

Dirty, low life scum bags, both father and son. They've turned one of the greatest countries in earth into a Worldwide laughing stock. 👹😡

[istesque]

[v6quewrlds]

GOOD DAYS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀2.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

author's note⠀⁎⠀fluff to celebrate joey's 28th. warnings⠀⁎⠀crying, mentions of the jake paul mike tyson fight.

In the early morning light, the Cincinnati suburbs were habitually quiet. The calming silence was only broken by the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower. Inside Joe's sprawling home, he lay on his stomach in your plush, king-sized bed, his broad shoulders moving up and down in a steady rhythm as he quietly snored.

Your brown skin shuffled against the eggshell white comforter as you tried to slide away without disturbing him. But as soon as you moved, Joe's hand reached for your wrist, dragging you back into his grasp as you shrieked in response. Despite being a heavy sleeper, Joe always had a strange sixth sense that woke him up whenever you attempted to leave his warmth.

“Where do you think you're goin'?” he mumbled groggily, his blue eyes peeking open to find you pouting at him from underneath his arm.

You leaned in and kissed Joe's cheek, your voice soft with morning sweetness, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Joe's sleepy smile grew as he rolled over and pulled you closer, his hands feeling the fabric of your hoodie from your alma mater. “It’s too early for you to be sneakin' away from me. What are you up to?”

You chuckled and kissed him again, your face nestling into the crook of his neck as you whispered, “Just a little something for your birthday.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed playfully as he felt you trying to squirm out of his embrace. He tightened his grip and hummed skeptically, “Is that so?”

“I wanted to pamper you a little bit. Breakfast in bed, maybe?” you offered with a small smile, hoping to distract Joe with morning kisses and the promise of food.

“Mm, or you could stay here? Pamper me where it's warm and comfortable?” Joe's voice was a low rumble as he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly.

You rolled your eyes, picking up on the hidden innuendo in Joe's suggestion, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You shifted your weight, allowing Joe's head to rest on your chest as you ran your fingers through the soft strands of his messy hair. You whispered, “Later, maybe. Right now, I need to know how your knee's doing.”

Joe grunted, his hand reflexively moving to rub his left knee. “It's fine, just a little sore. Nothing too bad,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Your eyes searched his, knowing he was downplaying it. you had watched the game the night before, your heart in your throat every time he took a hit. “Joseph,” you warned, using the name that always made him squirm. “You need to be honest with me about these things. If it's bad, you need to tell me so I can take care of you properly."

Joe sighed, his hand moving from his knee to squeeze your thigh. “It's just a bruise, sweetheart. The trainer said I’ll be good to go in a few days.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced but deciding to let it go for now. You leaned over him to grab the bottle of painkillers and a water bottle from the nightstand. “Take these for now, and I'll get breakfast started. Try to get some sleep, Joey.”

Joe took the offered pills with a grateful smile, watching as you slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. You had insisted on cooking him breakfast yourself, despite his suggestion to order in from your favorite brunch place when he got in from his flight last night.

Joe settled back into the pillows, watching your retreating figure. The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs began to waft into the bedroom, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Despite the pain in his knee, a sense of comfort washed over him knowing you were there to take care of him.

Meanwhile, you hummed to yourself in the kitchen, juggling pans and plates with an ease that belied the complexity of Joe's breakfast order. You had been planning this for weeks, eager to show your appreciation for his hard work and the sacrifices he made for his dreams. As you flipped the french toast just right, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement for the main surprise you had in store for him.

Once the breakfast was ready, you returned to the bedroom with a tray laden with food. You found Joe propped up against the headboard, his phone in hand as the sound of his parents' voices filled the room. You set the tray down gently on his lap, the aroma of cinnamon and butter floating through the air.

He looked up at you, reaching for you to return to bed, frowning slightly when you simply pressed a kiss to his temple and turned to leave the room again. He didn't dwell on it for too long, turning his attention back to his parents on FaceTime.

You retreated to the bathroom, your thoughts racing with excitement. You had been planning the next part of Joe's birthday surprise since the moment you had decided to put on this low-key, home-based celebration. You turned the tap on the bathtub, pouring in a generous amount of Epsom salts and bubble bath. The water began to froth and steam, filling the air with a calming scent of peppermint.

You knew Joe took his recovery days seriously, especially after a rough game, so you figured a warm bath would be perfect for his knee and aching muscles. You waited for Joe to finish his conversation with his parents, your smile growing wider as you listened to their laughter and shared stories. When the call ended, you poked your head into the room.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you called out, your voice bouncing off the walls with excitement. “Your bath's ready. No complaints.”

Joe groaned but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom with a grin he failed to suppress. You watched him carefully, your eyes tracking the movement of his injured knee. You knew he was in more pain than he let on, but you also knew that Joe was never one to make a fuss. Once Joe was undressed, you turned off the lights, allowing the natural light to flood in before leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Ja'Marr and Sam will be here in about an hour. I've got some errands to run, so just rest up, okay?” You called out as you left the bathroom.

Joe's voice echoed through the space, “You're the boss,” he joked, his smile fading into a grimace as he eased into the hot water. You knew he'd protest if you hovered too much, so you left him to soak while you started to clean up the kitchen.

Your mind raced with the final details of the surprise. The video montage you had been working on for the past two months had to be perfect. You had collected messages from everyone Joe cared about—from members of the Bengals organization to high school friends and family members—a testament to the love and support surrounding him. You hoped it would serve as a reminder that even on his toughest days, he wasn’t alone.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Sam, confirming his arrival. Ja'Marr, on the other hand, was running a few minutes "fashionably" late. You knew Joe would be thrilled to see two of his closest friends, especially on his birthday. You hoped that by inviting them over, they could keep Joe occupied while you set up your home theater for the nearly 30-minute-long video tribute you had painstakingly edited over the course of two months.

Ja'Marr, with his broad smile and infectious laugh, barged through the door a few minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand. “Happy birthday, Joey B!” he bellowed, the sound echoing through the hallways.

You emerged from the kitchen, pulling your hair into a ponytail as you gathered your purse and wallet to head out. “He should be down in a bit. I'm ordering from Jeff Ruby's, you guys want anything?”

As Ja'Marr and Sam took turns typing their orders into your notes, Joe emerged from his bath. He was now dressed in a comfortable pink hoodie and his Seinfeld sweats, thundering down the stairs, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw his friends. You noted the slight limp in his step but pushed aside your concern as he greeted them with enthusiastic handshakes and daps. You knew he was in good spirits, which was all that mattered for today.

“We still watching the fight?” Sam asked as you grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joe nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Jake Paul v. Tyson fight they’d been dying to watch together. You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips, shaking your head in amusement. The fight had taken place nearly a month ago, but they had agreed to watch it again in greater detail as if there was much to miss the first time. But, you knew better than to stick around for the rewatch, knowing they'd be arguing over every jab, pausing and rewinding to analyze every hit.

“Alright, I'll be back in a few. You three behave yourselves,” you warned playfully, pointing a finger at them. “Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

Ja'Marr held up his hands in mock surrender, “I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're the perfect angels.”

you ignored him, simply calling out, “Sam, I'm trusting you.”

When you returned with the food, you found Joe and his friends engrossed in the fight, shouting at the TV as if they were ringside. You couldn't help but laugh at their passionate commentary and insistence they knew better than the professional boxers.

You quietly slipped upstairs to set up the final part of Joe’s birthday surprise. The video montage was ready to play on your home theater, and you had the room set with your favorite snacks and drinks, the ambiance perfect for a heartfelt moment. The anticipation grew as you thought about his reaction—how his face would light up when he saw the messages from his loved ones.

As you finished putting every thing in place, you heard Joe send Sam and Ja'Marr on their way, the fight having wrapped about an hour ago. You could feel your heart racing as you descended the stairs. Joe was waiting for you in the living room, his head bowed as he read through his texts, probably catching up on missed messages from his friends and family.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you approached him.

Joe looked up, his expression unreadable. “Just some birthday messages,” he said, his thumb scrolling through his phone. “Everyone's asking about my knee.”

Your eyes softened as you took in the weight of his words. He was always so private about his injuries, not wanting to be a burden on anyone. You knew he was trying to be strong, but you also knew that he needed this day to be about him, not football. You took a deep breath and announced, “You can respond tomorrow. I have one more surprise for you.”

Joe's curiosity piqued, and he followed you into the home theater, the room dimly lit and cozy as he took a seat. He glanced over his shoulder to see you approaching with a tiny, ridiculous party hat in hand.

“No.” Joe said firmly, eyeing the party hat with a disapproving squint.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, you have to wear it!”

With a dramatic sigh, Joe allowed you to place the hat on his head, the elastic band snapping around his chin as you stepped back to admire your accessorizing touch. The hat was a neon pink monstrosity with a plume of feathers sticking out of the top. You giggled uncontrollably, pulling out a duplicate hat to put on yourself. The sight of the two of you with these absurd party hats brought a warmth to the room that Joe hadn’t felt in weeks. Joe couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Alright, alright, now that we're both looking like complete idiots, can we get on with this?” Joe teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he picked up the TV remote.

You grinned, taking a seat beside him. “Yes, sir, Mr. Grumpy Pants. But before we do, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and how much everyone else does too.”

You took the remote from Joe and hit play on the video you had queued up. The screen flickered to life with a montage of photos and videos from Joe's life—his childhood, college days, and moments from his career. The first message was from Joe’s high school coach, who spoke about Joe’s unwavering dedication and talent on the field.

Joe's eyes grew misty as he watched, his chest swelling with pride and love. Each message brought a new face into your private sanctuary, sharing stories and well wishes. His parents talked about the first time they held him in their arms, and his brothers reminisced about the fierceness they recognized in his eyes from such a young age. His teammates praised his leadership and friendship, sharing inside jokes that made Joe's laugh echo through the room. You had managed to capture every aspect of his life, every person who had shaped him into the man he was today.

The video went on, each message more heartfelt than the last. You watched Joe's reaction, your heart swelling with joy at the sight of his tear-filled eyes and the occasional sniffle he tried to hide. When the video reached its final moments, you took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The screen filled with a picture of the two of you from your first date, both smiling awkwardly but eyes hopeful.

Your face appeared last on the screen, your eyes shining with love as you recorded your message.

“Happy Birthday, Joe. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life, for making me laugh, and for being the most dedicated, disciplined person I know. There's no one on Earth who deserves this love and appreciation more than you do. You inspire me every single day, and I am so proud of you. Everything you've accomplished in only 28 years is nothing short of incredible. And even though we all know you’re going to do so much more, we'll still celebrate all the wins, even the small ones. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I'm here for every hit, every victory, and every moment in between. Happy birthday, my love.”

Joe looked over at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned over, pulling you into a tight embrace, whispering into your ear, “Thank you for this. I had no idea you were going through this much trouble putting this together.”

You leaned into him, your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his heart pound against your chest. You whispered back, “It's nothing compared to what you do every day, Joe. You give everything for the people you love, and I just wanted to make sure you knew how much you're loved and cherished in return.”

You sat there, holding each other, as the final message from the video played out—a group of guys from his high school football team shouting “Happy Birthday, Joe!” in unison, their faces a blur of happiness. The screen went black, and the room grew quiet except for the soft background music that you had chosen for the end credits.

Joe pulled away, swiping at his eyes, trying to compose himself. You handed him a box of tissues from the side table, your own eyes misty with happy tears. “Was it okay? Did you like it?” you asked, your voice gentle.

“It's perfect, babe. Thank you,” Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. He took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes, trying to regain his composure. You sat next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, gently rubbing circles. You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the video’s messages lingering in the air.

Then, as if on cue, Joe’s stomach rumbled, and you both burst into laughter. It was a welcome relief from the emotional intensity of the video. You picked up the remote and paused the video, standing up. “I got your favorite from Jeff Ruby's. It's all ready for you in the dining room.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Joe murmured, following you out of the theater, the party hat still atop his head, taking your hand in his as you made their way back to the dining room.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You’re worth every second of it and more.” Joe leaned down, kissing you softly on the forehead before allowing you to lead him to the dining room.

[goldfades]

LATE-NIGHT CALLS ─── JOE BURROW

request: "I feel like Joe would always insist on calling you after every game even the late ones. Even if it’s just a sleepy, half-coherent conversation he refuses to go to bed without hearing your voice"

Joe's post-game ritual has always been the same: shake hands, hit the showers, face the press, and head home. But since the two of you started dating, he added a new step—one he never skips. No matter the hour, no matter how late the game runs or how exhausted he is from the rush of adrenaline and the strain of the field, he calls. Even if it’s the kind of late that makes your voice thick with sleep and your words slur together, he’ll still dial your number, waiting for the soft click of your sleepy “Hello?” on the other end.

You used to worry about his exhaustion, insisting he could wait until morning, but Joe’s stubbornness won out. It’s his way of winding down, he says, the easiest way to let the adrenaline taper off—to hear you, half-awake and warm under your blankets, murmuring about your day or teasing him for that one pass he wishes he’d thrown differently.

Tonight, the call comes later than usual, your phone buzzing on the nightstand as you squint at the clock—well past midnight. You know the routine by now, though. His name glows on the screen, and you don’t hesitate to answer, even if you’re barely awake yourself. Because somehow, even in those moments of barely-there conversation, there’s something grounding, something steady in the sound of his voice—low and sleepy and comfortable.

The phone buzzes again, and you let out a small sigh, rolling over in the sheets that are tangled around your legs. It’s late—way too late for anyone but him. You fumble for the phone, knocking your book off the nightstand in the process, and finally manage to answer on the last ring.

“Hey,” you say, voice thick with sleep, barely more than a mumble. Your eyes are still closed, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice before he even speaks.

“Hey,” he says, sounding tired but happy. There’s a warmth in his voice that makes you want to sink deeper into the blankets, your body relaxing even as you struggle to stay awake. You hear a faint rustling on his end of the line, the sound of him settling into whatever hotel bed or quiet corner he’s managed to find for this call.

“How’d it go?” you ask, even though you watched the whole game with half your attention, laptop open on your lap as you listened to the announcers shout his name. You already know he won. You can tell just by the way he’s breathing—steady and content, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing on his shoulders anymore.

“We got the win,” he says, and you can practically picture the satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Defense pulled through. Felt good. Tired, though.” There’s a pause, just long enough for you to hear the creak of the bed as he stretches out, and you imagine him there, hair still damp from the shower, pillow propped against the headboard, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“You sound tired,” you say, letting your own eyes drift shut again, his voice washing over you like a lullaby. He always sounds different after a game—softer, looser, the careful edges he keeps in place during the day falling away in the quiet of the night.

“Yeah,” he admits, a low chuckle humming in his throat. “Long night. But I’m good. Needed to call you first.” He says it like a fact, like calling you is as essential as breathing, and it makes something warm settle in your chest, even as you struggle to fight off sleep.

You know what he looks like right now—can see him so clearly it’s almost like you’re there. His face is flushed from the game, the last traces of exertion still lingering in his expression, and he’s got that soft, worn-out smile you only see when he’s alone with you. He’s probably half-reclined on some too-firm hotel bed, still wearing sweats and the hoodie he threw on over his jersey. You can picture the way his hand would brush over his face, rubbing at tired eyes, his fingers trailing down to the scruff along his jaw. He’s handsome in a way that doesn’t need effort, like he forgets sometimes that anyone’s looking.

“What’d you eat?” you ask, knowing he probably hasn’t had a proper meal yet. There’s a muffled sound, and you can almost see him shrug.

“Grabbed a sandwich at the stadium,” he says. “You know, the usual. But I’m not really hungry.” His voice is softer now, like he’s already sinking into the comfort of the call, the post-game rush fading away. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything, just the quiet hum of the line connecting you, stretching across the miles.

His breathing evens out, and you know he’s lying back now, probably letting his eyes drift shut the way you are, letting the night pull him under. This is the quietest part of the day, the only time where everything seems to slow down, where it’s just you and him, your voices mingling in the spaces between words.

“Did you see the game?” he asks suddenly, and there’s a hint of teasing there, like he already knows the answer. He’s always known when you’re watching—can sense it in some unspoken way, even when you’re not at the stadium, cheering him on in person. You hum, the sound halfway between agreement and a sleepy sigh.

“Of course I did,” you say. “Saw that touchdown, too. You looked good out there.”

He chuckles, the sound low and deep, a bit self-conscious but pleased. “You think so?” he asks, his tone playful but with that slight, genuine curiosity you’ve come to love—like he still isn’t sure how you see him, even after all this time.

“Always,” you reply, and it’s true. Even when he’s a mess, jersey streaked with mud, hair wild from the helmet, he’s yours. There’s something honest about him on the field, something raw that you can’t help but admire. He doesn’t play with swagger—he plays with determination, with a kind of quiet, relentless grit that makes your chest tighten with pride.

“Wish you were here,” he murmurs, and there’s a softness to the words, a longing that cuts through the distance between you. You can hear the weight of it, the way he doesn’t mean for it to sound so heavy, but it does anyway.

“Me too,” you admit, turning onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You know he’s in some hotel room halfway across the country, the curtains drawn against the city lights, the room probably too cold for comfort.

And you’re here, in your own bed, miles apart but tethered by this line, by his voice, by the quiet spaces between breaths that are filled with the things neither of you say out loud.

It’s moments like this that make the distance feel bearable, moments where the miles don’t matter because it’s just you and him, lingering in the quiet of the night, holding on to the sound of each other’s voice like a promise.

“Get some sleep, Joey,” you say softly, knowing he won’t listen, that he’ll keep talking until he’s sure you’re drifting off, that he won’t hang up until he’s heard you yawn, heard the way your voice gets softer and softer until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

“Not yet,” he says, voice a bit firmer now, a smile tugging at the edges. “Just a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue, just let him fill the silence with the sound of his breath, the occasional murmur about a play or a moment you’d already forgotten, listening to the way his voice dips and slows, lulling you back to the edge of sleep. It’s the sound of home, you think, this quiet, late-night ritual that belongs only to the two of you—a secret shared in the dark, a comfort that’s become as essential as the game itself.

He keeps talking, his voice a low, steady hum, and you let yourself drift, knowing he’ll be there, knowing he won’t let you go until you’ve slipped back into the warmth of your dreams, his voice still echoing in the back of your mind long after you’ve hung up.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[eddiazx]

benefit part 2 - evan buckley x reader

part 1 here!

Buck wakes up with his nose pressed against your hair. You’ve slept at Buck’s multiple times, even shared beds once or twice, but he never realized just how clingy you are in your sleep. Half your body is on top of his: your head is tucked underneath his chin, your arm is splayed out over his bare torso, and your right leg is hooked over his left thigh, knee brushing up against his morning wood.

Buck likes this. The domesticity, the smell of you, your warmth; Buck could get used to waking up this way all the time.

Except, he thinks soberly, that’s not what the two of you had agreed on. This was supposed to be just sex. But Buck has come to the belated realization that it could never be just anything with you.

“Buck? You awake yet?”, Eddie’s voice comes ringing through the loft from his front door. Buck’s eyes widen; he had completely forgotten that he made plans to get breakfast with him that morning. He looks at you, who had woken up to the sound. With an impressive quickness, you roll off and drop down soundlessly to hide under the bed in all your naked glory. Buck would have busted out laughing if he wasn’t so scared that Eddie was going to catch the two of you together. Neither of you would hear the end of it if the rest of the team found out about your little arrangement.

Eddie makes his way up the loft stairs and gives Buck an unimpressed look over at his sleepy, shirtless form. Buck had had the sense to throw the covers over his legs to avoid flashing Eddie.

“Hey Eds”, Buck smiles weakly.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. You able to get ready in 5, at least? I’m craving that breakfast burrito from Joe’s.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Just…go watch TV and I’ll be ready in a bit.” Buck says, desperately hoping Eddie doesn’t look too closely at the fact that your bra was on the floor in the corner of the room.

Eddie nods, before saying, “Maybe we can text Y/N if she wants to join us too.”

Buck lets out a startled cough at your name, but Eddie already has his back to him, walking down the stairs. A few moments pass until Buck hears the sounds of Brooklyn 99 playing downstairs.

Buck leans over and peers down at you. You have an amused smile on your face, but Buck can’t help but mouth, “you okay?”

You nod, and give him a thumbs up. You gesture at your phone, which Buck hands over to you. He watches as you open up your notes app and type out 'go grab breakfast, I’ll let myself out and lock the door' before showing him the text.

Buck nods and walks to the bathroom, all the while wondering what the heck he got himself into.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Eddie is talking about a project Chris has for his history class while chewing on his burrito. Buck is trying really hard to pay attention, but his brain keeps providing him with unhelpful flashes of last night. He thinks he might be hallucinating, because he can even picture you sitting down in front of him.

Wait, that’s not a hallucination, you were actually here.

“Hi guys”, you smile, swiping a potato off of Eddie’s plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes sparkly and beautiful as usual. Buck is again met with a memory of last night, when you put something of his in your mouth.

Buck shakes his head, as if he can physically clear his mind from the memory. “Uh, what’re you doing here?”

“I knew you would forget so I sent her a text to join us while you were getting ready.” Eddie responds for you.

"Right, yeah." Buck nods quickly.

Eddie and you exchange glances. Buck was acting weird, weirder than normal.

While you order and promptly delve into a conversation with Eddie, Buck considers moving to another firehouse, one where he didn't have to see and work with his best friend that he was hopelessly in love with.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"Hen, can I talk to you?", Buck stammers, when they're the only two seated at the firehouse dinner table one evening.

"Sure, what's up?" Hen asks, closing the textbook she was reading.

"I... I think I have feelings for Y/N." Buck admits.

Hen continues to stare at Buck expectantly, not a single difference showing in her face after Buck's admission. "Wait, that's it? That's not news to anybody, Buck."

Buck blinks at Hen. "What?"

"Buck, you've been gone for her since she started at the 118. You've had permanent heart eyes for that girl."

"No... we're friends! Best friends!"

Hen shoots Buck a patient look. "Chim and I are best friends, Buck. You and Y/N are in a different category entirely."

"Okay, fine, whatever. It's bad, Hen. We started sleeping with each other last week and -"

"What?!"

"She's so smart and beautiful Hen, and she makes the hottest sounds when-"

"Okay, ew."

"But she doesn't want to be in a relationship and I don't know how to act around her now that I know I have feelings for her and-"

"Alright Buck, breathe." Hen motions for Buck to inhale and exhale with her hands. Hen seems thoughtful for a second, before she asks, "how do you know she doesn't want to be in a relationship?"

"I don't think a relationship was what she had in mind. She suggested we have sex casually; that it wouldn't be weird 'cause we're friends."

"That... was a horrible idea."

Buck groans and puts his head in his hands. "Well, I know that now!"

Hen smiles softly, prying Buck's hands away to hold onto them. "Buck, we all knew that you were in love with her, but she looks at you the same way. I think you guys should talk to each other. You guys might be on the same page."

Buck looks at Hen's earnest, honest face. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knows that he couldn't keep avoiding you or clamming up the way he did at breakfast. He needed to come clean.

And then promptly move.

[qqueenofhades]

I KNOW he’s gonna find a way to worm his way out of it like the Worlds Biggest Bitch Baby that he is but… the thought of watching our future president absolutely eviscerate that orange sack of pond scum in a debate on national television make me feel indescribable joy. The mere thought of it makes me feel A L I V E.

I hope that if he refuses to debate her, she still stands up there by herself, looks directly into the camera and lists all the ways he’s a Scaredy Little Punk Ass Bitch.

Listen, Democrats might still have some understandable nerves (though listen to me, LISTEN TO ME: this is NOT THE TIME FOR MORE PANIC, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT HOW SCARY THIS IS, WE KNOW! WE KNOW! THIS IS THE TIME TO GET TF IN FORMATION AND DO YOUR GODDAMN JOB!) but let me say this, the Republicans are LOSING it. They put ALL their chips on facing Sleepy Old Joe who don't talk so good anymore, and suddenly they have a 59-year-old lawyer and prosecutor who literally spent her whole elected career going after sex pests, frauds, and felons. (We remember how she made Brett Kavanaugh fucking cry at his confirmation hearing, right?) And suddenly, they have to bring it against Kamala. GODSPEED, DIPSHITS.

So yes, Trump is already whining SO hard about all the money they "wasted" going after Biden, laying the groundwork to escape getting his ass handed to him at the next debate, got stuck with a terriblawful VP pick (even Fucking FOX NEWS cut away from Vance's rally the other day because it was so boring) and suddenly realizing that he spent so much effort to make this election about age and mental competency when... now it's him. WHAT NOW, FUCKFACES. WHAT. NOW.

I'd also like to point out that abortion rights are going to be a HUGE issue, they have won everywhere they have been on the ballot (including in very red states) post-Dobbs, they will be on the ballot in several more important states (including Fucking Florida, not that I actually think we'll win there), and Kamala has a great record as a defender of reproductive freedom. Biden did his best, bless him, but sometimes the Old Catholic Man still leaped out. So the absolute fucking schadenfreude of having a black female president BEAT TRUMP IN A POST-DOBBS ELECTION??? MAGNIFICENT.

(As @silverbirching says: we wonder how many minutes it will take SCOTUS to row back the "president god-king" ruling if Kamala wins. We're guessing 15. That is, if Joe does not finally just embrace the fact that presidents are immune AND he is leaving office, and send Alito, Thomas, and Kav on a "special indefinite vacation" as an inauguration present.)

I am not overconfident. I know this is unprecedented. I know we don't have much time, and how hard this will be. This is not 2016 or 2020, and we all have to do the work and not let up. But if the Handmaid's Tale party is literally now trying to make "Kamala doesn't have children because she's an Evul Feminist" into their main line of attack, all I say is, Please proceed, chucklefucks. I'm sure that will go great.

[lyrenminth]

have a request for a joe burrow fic can u do one where the reader has surgery and joe takes care of her in the hospital

Partnership

The pain started during the night. At the beginning you thought they were cramps, no big deal until the pain got worse and worse. You tried not to wake up Joe, who was peacefully sleeping next to you. You went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet and you saw blood like you were in your period. You changed your underwear for a pad, but you were bleeding a lot, and you couldn't stand up from the pain. You started gasping for air, and cried silently.

Something was wrong.

Joe knocked the door and open it. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, when he saw you crying, sitting on the toilet his face changed from sleepy to alarmed in matter of seconds. "What's happen? Are you having cramps?" he got closer.

"I'm bleeding a lot, and I'm having a-a lot of pain" you cried "I can't stand up and I'm feeling dizzy"

"I'm calling an ambulance" he went back to the room, looking for his phone. When you started feeling wet your legs you realized it was blood. "Joe!" You called him, weakly.

After a couple of minutes, you were on his arms, he was carrying you outside the bedroom and laid you on the floor. You closed your eyes, sleepy. "Baby, hey, it's not time to sleep, baby" you felt a hand touch your face. His voice sounded distant but you could hear the worry and anxiety. "Hey, honey please, wake up, the ambulance it's closer but I need you to stay up, okay?"

You nodded, opening your eyes only to look at his blue eyes. Joe seemed like an angel coming for you. But he was frowning and talking to the phone.

You wanted to stay awake but he was getting blurred, and the world was so slow. "Baby, don't sleep, don't do this to me" fear, Joe was scared.

***

You woke up with the beeping sound of some device. You looked around, confused. Your eyes stopped on Joe, sleeping on the couch. He looked so peaceful and handsome as always. When you tried to incorporate, a pain in your lower abdomen made you flinch. You hissed and laid back again.

Joe woke up, and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "Are you up" he stated. "What happened?" you asked. "You were losing a lot of blood" he took your hand and squeeze slightly "Damn, I thought...I thought you wouldn't-" he shook his head, keeping the thought away "You scared me,bad" he kissed your forehead and looked for any sign of discomfort.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened" you apologize. "The doc said something about your left ovary" he explained a little embarrassed he couldn't provide more info. "Let me call a nurse"

Minutes later a doctor and a nurse entered the room.

"Oh, Mrs Burrow. How are you feeling now?" The doctor said, she was friendly.

"Better" you replied.

"Yes, we have to do a emergency surgery for your left ovary. You had an enormous cyst that exploded" she explained "you lost blood but we could bring you back"

Your breathe shakily. The nurse checked your pressure, while the doctor explained the process and your recovery.

"No lifting heavy things, and you need to rest. We're going to have you here for the day but tomorrow you can go to your house" she looked at Joe "I'm sure you are in good hands, he was so worried about you"

You looked at Joe but he was serious. Did you really scared him? There was a turmoil of emotions inside you.

Once you were alone, he was still holding your hand. You touch his hand, playing with his fingers. "Are you ok?" he had bags under his eyes, and looked a little bit messy.

"Yes, I'm tired. I was calling your parents and everyone to let them know the situation" he replied. "So don't worry about that, you need to rest"

Joe was with you until the last minute you left to the hospital. He helped you to get into the car, bought the medicine the doctor gave you and healthy food your dinner. "I need to take a bath, I feel sticky" you confessed, he snorted but help you to undress. He was so gently with you, you almost cry. When he tried to get into the shower, you stopped him. "Baby, I think I'm alright" you said, giving him a kiss.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but he was holding your elbows like you were leaving forever.

"Yes, I-I can do this"

"Just yell my name if you need something"

Once the shower was over, he looked for your clothes and help you to dress again. "Do you want me to braid your hair?" It was one of his hidden talents. When you taught him, he learned fast and actually like to braid your hair. "I find it relaxing" he explained.

You nodded and sat on a chair, and his hands caressing your hair relaxed you so much you were falling asleep.

"Joe" you mumbled, "Mmm?"

"Did I scared you?" silence, he never stopped moving his hand though "Yes"

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize. You didn't know"

"Joe, the doctor told me she had to removed my left ovary" you starting saying, finding the courage to continue "it's going to be difficult for me to get pregnant"

"That's ok, you are here right now. That's what matters"

" I know you wanted a family"

"Yes, but I want my wife to be healthy too"

"Thank you" you cried. His reassurance was relieving. When he finished braiding your hair, he brought you a soft dinner, and while you ate he took a shower.

Joe always took care of you when he could. As you did with him. You were a couple.

A team.

Thank you for this request. I have a similar fanfiction written about Joe too, but it's shorter. You can check it on the masterlist!

[capquinn]

love your dad quinn content! how did he come up with the nickname for his daughter? and does he have a nickname for his son?? 🥰

The nickname “Bug” actually started by accident. A few days after she was born, Quinn was up in the middle of the night, rocking her in his arms while you caught a few hours of much-needed sleep. She was tiny, bundled up in the softest blanket, with her little fists bunched up by her face. As he looked down at her, sleepy but completely mesmerised, he murmured, “look at you, snug as a bug.”

The name just stuck. It was his go-to from then on — simple, sweet, and every time he said it, she’d snuggle closer into his chest, like she already knew that was her special name.

But for his son, Quinn can’t take all the credit for that one. He had dropped by the rink one morning, a few weeks after his son was born, to let the team meet the newest and youngest Hughes.

Quinn made his way down the hall, his son nestled close to his chest, nearly swallowed by the soft, plush blanket wrapped around him, he caught the attention of Joe, the team’s equipment manager. Joe stopped mid-conversation with another staff member, breaking into a broad grin as he caught sight of Quinn with his bundled-up baby.

“Well, would you look at that!” Joe said, crossing his arms as he walked over, eyes crinkling with warmth. He leaned in to get a better look, giving a soft laugh as he took in the tiny, blanketed bundle. “Huggy Bear’s got himself a cub now.”

Quinn chuckled, adjusting the blanket around his son. “Yeah, something like that,” he said with a grin.

Joe laughed, nodding approvingly. “It’s great you brought him down — everyone has been excited to meet the little guy.”

Quinn gave a shy smile, glancing down at his son bundled in his arms. “Yeah, thought it was about time he met the team, even if he slept through half of it.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, softened by the way he adjusted the blanket, making sure his son was warm.

Joe chuckled, giving Quinn a pat on the back. “Like father, like son, eh?”

After a few more exchanges, Quinn headed out to the parking lot, his son still peacefully snoozing. As he carefully buckled him into the car seat, he paused, just watching the tiny face peeking out from the blanket, feeling that deep pull of love he still couldn’t quite put into words.

“Let’s get you home, Cub,” he murmured softly, the nickname slipping out naturally.

[jangillman]

[eyecandyandbraincandy-blog]

Society for the last five years (and counting)

Public health: Hey, so we're tracking this new trend of ovens possibly burning people. It seems bad, we're gonna need more data.

Scientists: On it, we're gonna learn about the oven and what causes burns.

Government: Okay, here's what they're saying about ovens and how not to get burned. Let's shut everything down until this burning passes and then we can go back to normal.

Libs: YES! You can do your part and flatten the curve so we can reduce the amount of burns!

Conservatives: I'm sticking my head in the oven. Y'all don't own me, you libtards! Even if the oven can burn you, I'm wearing this super special glove.

Scientists: That glove is for checking horse prostates. Don't do that.

Government: Actually, if you inject yourself with gasoline, you'll clean that risk of burns right out of your skin.

Scientists: Don't. Do. That.

Libs: We trust science! We care about people! They don't! Let's stay strong, people!

*months later*

Corporations: Hey, so, our profits-

Government: Say no more, fam. We got this. PUT YOUR GRANDMA IN THE OVEN FOR THE ECONOMY.

Libs: Look how callous they are! We're the good ones.

Public health: Actually, needing to be careful when operating ovens has been SO hard on the American people. You can use the ovens without mittens for a bit as a break.

*a year of rolling back measures*

Corporations: BUT MUH PROFITS

Government: Okay, y'all. This is cute, but go back to work. Tell them to go back to work. Public emergency's over.

Public health: Look, some people are gonna get burned using the oven. Mitts are cute but it's really about your personal risk tolerance. So just let those people get burned, they'll die off and we'll be good as new.

Science: Actually don't do that. Our data's clear, here's all the ways to get burned and here's how serious those consequences can be. Wear oven mitts. But we have this vaccine now and it WILL HELP. But we're not sure what the efficacy is yet. So let's be cautious until we have more data.

Public health: You hear that? Vaccines. Yummy, get them so we can be done with this!

Conservatives: God damn it, they're all tryna give us the pokey-jabby-stabby to try and convince us the earth is ROUND, to be liberal femboy sissies and get gay autistic married transes. FAUCI PLANDEMIC HOAX KILLARY CLINTON AND SLEEPY JOE. DON'T DO IT.

Libs: We trust the science! We're gonna get the jabby pokey stab and then we're done! No more mitts.

Science: Well, actually-

Libs: SEE WE'RE DONE! All vaxxed and relaxed. We trusted the science and now it's over! Back to normal! I've been DYING to do some baking. My mental health was so terrible when we couldn't use the ovens!

People following the science who don't want to get burned: Hey, I actually really liked baking too. But I can't really do it safely since there's not oven mitts anywhere and now people are just cooking with flamethrowers. That's not really safe.

Society: BUT OUR MENTAL HEALTH WAS TERRIBLE WHEN OVENGATE WAS HAPPENING AND WE WANT TO BAKE. IF YOU'RE SO FREAKED OUT THEN STOP BAKING FOREVER AND STAY HOME.

People following the science: But you just said the isolation was bad for mental heal-

Society: YEAH MY MENTAL HEALTH. MY PERSONAL RISK. MY BODY MY CHOICE I TRUSTED THE SCIENCE.

Government and corporations: Excellent.

*A few years later*

Society: New mystery burns are popping up here and there and they seem to revolve around a kitchen???? What's going on???

Government: It's nothing, shut the fuck up and go back to work. We beat the ovens.

Society: Okay!

Science: Actually, the vaccine DOES significantly reduce the likelihood that the burns will kill you, but you can still get burned, others can get burned, and you can still have long term health-

Public "health": No, yeah, it's nothing. Some people are gonna get burned. And that's bad, but also like inevitable? Make sure you wash your face before operating an oven.

Libs: It's all about personal risk tolerance. I'm not going to live in fear with oven mitts anymore! I NEED TO BAKE.

*months later*

Society: Why's everyone getting burns constantly?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

[youssefguedira]

@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

[ihaznoclue]

hii

So i try to find the rule but I only found something about the character you write about, sorry if i don't respect the rules

Can i ask Ellen with a reader who have the same personnality as Misha (hsr)

Ignore if you don't want to

~🧇🍨🦭🍰🦭🍨🧇~

Thank you for requesting, Don't worry, your fine I just pinned my rules post so I hope you find it, I just hope I don't type anything wrong since I don't really know anything about Honkai star rail but I indeed searched up Misha, it said to say that he's always hardworking like cleaning, he fixes machinery and that he rarely gets any sleep

ELLEN JOE x Reader

Ellen hasn't been really talkative with you, you would always see her sleeping on literally anything because she would work and go to school and other stuff in life that is important

But you on the other hand, have been hardworking as well as loyal to your companions as well as your work friends like Rina, Corin and Lycaon. You boss seemed to be delighted to at least have someone is taking this job seriously like he is

Ellen has seemed to notice your professional acts to impress the wolf thiern, which to her she couldn't care less until she notice you always yawning every now and then

She could also see the dark circles under your eyes but you would always say you aren't tired at all which she didn't believe that

Her shark tail swaying side to side as she stared at you from across the room while the others were somewhere else cleaning in the mansion, you felt nervous

You were staring anywhere rather than making eye contract with your shark maiden, she sighed as she got up from where she was sitting as she started to walk towards you

"Come on, follow me" She said as she started to grip on your work outfit, you stumbled up as you followed her, more as well her pulling you with her

"May I ask, where are we going?" You asked, "Somewhere where we can have peace and quiet and no-one to disturb us" She spoke as she now opened a door, you were quite confused as she pulled you down on a bed?

A bed? Wait was she going to force you to sleep? Maybe she noticed you weren't sleeping as much as before

"Lay down on the pillow" She instructed which you followed as she also lay down beside you, "Now you are going to sleep until I wake you up" She was serious which to you nodded in advanced

"O-Okay" You nervously spoke as you fiddled around the sheets, you heard her sigh as she started to play with your hair, you stopped fiddling as you look up at her as she blushed a little

"Quit fiddling and stay still or else you won't sleep at all.. And don't say anything about this" She spoke which you nodded

Her gently fingers stroking through your hair strands as your breathing started to slow down a little which means you started to become more and more sleepy

It was working, your eyes drifting off to sleep as you heard Ellen spoke "Sleep well"

Those were the last words you heard until you fully fell asleep

DONE! ^^

-A<3

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 JOE - "highest of highs, lowest of lows" (1/2)

Joe x Reader 3.6k words hurt/comfort Being part of Joe's gang has its ups and downs, chaos being the closest thing you have to a stable routine, every single day full of adventures. Your friends pulled you from the rubble and into the light, you've been with them through thick and thin─and yet, as the years pass, it all grows stale. Repetitive, even. Tiring. A new era approaches. You're not strong enough to hold on and withstand the whirlwind of change, and neither is he. Even so, your faith in the dream Joe has given to all of Haight Street never wavers. You'll find a way out, together. But only if he's willing to move on.

long time no see! I've been struggling with writing and got very busy, but I also missed writing reader inserts sooooo much and got a little carried away with this one, hehehoho

it's the first half of joe's sleepy time fic, since I'm still editing the second half o7 I'll post that one as soon as I'm done with it. this also means that the comfort part isn't quite here yet LMFAO

as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

Just one more revision, and then I’ll take a break … 

The words repeat in your mind like a mantra. This is your only way to keep your eyelids from closing shut, so heavy with sleep and exhaustion. 

Numbers and letters blur together as you scan through the documents laid in front of you; there are bills and more bills, everything necessary to keep supplies coming and utilities working. It’s gotten harder to manage the business lately with the influence of the Chamber of Commerce still lingering over the neighbourhood, and every time you go outside, you notice all the stores that were forced to close, either bought or chased out of town. You think of all the people you used to know and who watched you and the rest of your friends grow up, now lost somewhere in the country, with no means to reach out to them. 

Your entire life reduced to nothing but empty streets and dusty displays. 

But the world keeps on moving, not waiting for you to catch up. And the atmosphere at Tang’s is the same as always─even at this hour, there are people walking in and out, with small groups scattered about in the booths, but also outside, standing under the neon lights, as if this humble diner were the hottest disco in the entirety of San Francisco. Only a small portion were paying customers, but each and every one of them was a familiar face, the friend of a friend, a soon-to-be-acquaintance. 

You have your boss to thank for this sense of community, the man who united all of Haight Street under the hopeful glimmer of his metal badges, a symbol of his friendship and protection. Of course, you also have him to blame for your current situation, forced to crunch numbers and make ends meet out in the open by the bar. 

Tang’s restaurant is an ancient relic with only a single office where the walls are thick and study enough to pass for an office. That is where you usually fill in all the paperwork and where Becket often goes to take a nap, it’s the perfect place to hide for a much needed break and to hold important meetings─today, similar to last week, it is being used for the latter, with Joe stepping up to the plate and dealing with every single investor interested in “supporting the local businesses.” You can’t be mad at him, even with this subtle sense of urgency and nervousness lingering in the back of your mind, you trust in the dream Joe has given to all of you. If there is a way forward, he would be the one to find it after weeding out all potential dangers.

The sudden, pulsating pain of an incoming headache makes itself known right behind your eyeballs, causing you to cover your eyes. As you apply a gentle pressure and rub soothing circles in slow motions, you allow your mind to rest from the constant stream of red on the documents. You trust Joe, you believe in him. You have to, even if reality continues to knock on your door in an attempt to wake you up from this fleeting dream. 

But how long can this dream last? You all need the sort of help that cannot be gained through camaraderie: money, an investor to keep things afloat, a stable income. 

Everyone knows better than to approach you tonight. That little corner by the bar is your territory, your own personal battlefield; with your disheveled and exhausted appearance, nothing but an empty cup and those piles of documents to keep you company, they all know better than to interrupt. Even so, you still manage to give a friendly wave or a nod whenever someone new calls out your name in greeting. The sound of someone pouring you a drink pulls you away from the chaos of your mind; Sputnik refills your cup with a batch of hot, fresh coffee─the scent reaches you and you thank her with a smile, one she timidly brushes off before delighting you with one of her signature, happy, little spins. And just like that, she floats away to attend the other customers. Of course, her presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Her shift ended hours ago, with no way to pay her for the extra hours or longer shifts, and yet, she remains by her own volition. 

Your eyes drift to the documents and the ocean of red greets you. You wish you could offer her more than a misery of a salary. While you have friends like Pioneer who can offer good insight every once in a while, he is much too idealistic. And the rest are doers, not thinkers. The only other person who would’ve easily tackled the issue from the root … 

Paulina, the little genius of Haight Street. She would’ve known what to do if she were here. 

But she isn’t here anymore, and this isn’t the right way to miss someone. You need to get her out of your head. 

The pleasant heat of your coffee helps drown any unwanted feelings, it burns your insides with a rejuvenating spark, the warm hits your nose and cheeks. Things might be bad now, but you are currently surrounded by the constant sound of lively chatter and the occasional round of laughter. In the crowd, you spot all of your friends; Becket and Hollick, Mercuria and Pioneer. Maich the Peddler catches your eye and raises her glass, a toast in the name of this small community and a small gesture to cheer you on. Bianca sits nearby too, perched on one of the many stools. 

Seeing everyone like this is enough to set your heart at ease from these anxieties. You have all made it this far, supporting everyone in need and feeding as many hungry mouths as possible and if things go well, you won’t have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck.

What follows, however, is not a relaxing night but a series of interruptions, each worse than the last. 

Just as you’re about to take another sip, the office door slams open and you feel someone rushing past the diner and towards the door. Turning around, you recognize that sharply dressed man struggling with the broken door handle as the latest investor Joe promised to take care of, the one he was supposed to make a deal with. He promised. He promised you that this man would walk out of here with a smile on his face and one less suitcase full of money in his possession, but your eyes lock onto it, that hefty suitcase dangling around in his grip as he fumbles about. In your impulsive attempt to stop him and mediate, all you manage to do is get into Joe’s way; he blazes past as well, oblivious to your presence, and knocks over the cup in your hands. 

It falls unceremoniously on the bar, spilling its contents all over your clothes and, most importantly, your hard work. The papers quickly turn an ugly shade of brown, soaking in the warm drink dripping from the counter. And this goes unnoticed in favour of the screaming match between your boss and the business partner that never was, the people in the diner joining the commotion in support of their leader. You don’t even process Sputnik’s attempts at salvaging the documents, eyes glued on your best friend’s back. 

“─And you know where you can shove all those fat stacks of money?!” Joe barks out, that typical and endearing cockiness turning into the bane of your existence as he severs that last thread of hope for the diner. He doesn’t need to finish, of course, the investor has left─you can hear the roaring engine of his car outside, speeding away.  Your heart drops at this.

“Tch, serves ‘em right!” Someone comments, you don’t care to know who. A different person adds, “Hey, boss! You’re slacking off, took you 2 hours to scare off this one. That’s 20 minutes more than the last one.” 

“... J, Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” Even though your avoid raising your voice, shaking with something you can’t quite place amidst the tight, claustrophobic pressure in your chest, everyone hears this and the diner grows quiet.

“Hey, gimme some credit, would you? These damn suits keep gettin’ more and more annoying, this one wouldn’t shut up about─” Joe stops as soon as he takes in your sorry state. His expression softens, hands hovering over your coffee-stained clothes. “Shit. That was you I hit on the way out? … Here, let me help.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement; Pioneer and Mercuria have stood up, intent on helping you out of this sticky mess. But you gently shake your head at them, fearing that more people in your personal space would only serve in pushing you further to the edge. It is already overwhelming enough to have Joe pat awkwardly ─uselessly, even─at your shirt with a napkin, it is hard enough to keep yourself from lashing out at him after such careless display. Still, you manage to rest your shaking hands over his own, gripping onto the leather of his gloves like a plea for help. 

“You promised me the deal would go smoothly.” Voice dropping to a whisper, you force this out without choking in your own grief. It feels silly to feel like this when Joe is looking at you like nothing is wrong. “You─You should’ve taken the deal, J.” 

“We’re not charity cases, we can manage without them, just like we’ve always done, yeah? It ain’t nothing new.” The reply is firm, and yet you can tell he’s trying to find a middle ground with you, anything to keep this from escalating. 

At least he knows he’s in trouble with you. Thus begins the same old song and dance. 

“Maybe improvising worked the first few times, but it’s not going to work forever.” You push forward, still attempting to regulate your breathe. Joe pulls his hand away from yours and continues to dutifully rub the stains of coffee away, a feat both of you know is futile. “We need the plan B before shit hits the fan, not after.” 

He pushes forward as well, brows furrowing and avoiding your gaze. “C’mon, and let those rich suits look into our lives so they can feel better about themselves? To brag about how they help the poor and needy? Let them try to change the way we’ve always done things?” A scoff. “As if. Tsk. This damn stain won’t go away─!” 

“They can pretend to be Mother Teresa for all I care, as long as we get to keep the diner and pay the bills.We’re not doing well, it can’t be any worse than what will happen if we keep things as they are, Joe.” 

Joe, not J. This detail causes him to momentarily flinch, and he finally gives up on this useless task of cleaning you up. It’s only when he slams that used napkin on the counter that he notices the rest of the mess. Joe searches for something in your eyes, he doesn’t find it─or you won’t allow him to─and only then you gain the upper and the right to truly escalate the fight. Unbeknownst to you,  the rest of your friends have begun to clear out of the building─they know better than to get involved. One had to match Joe’s own temper if they wanted to be truly acknowledged by the blacksmith. He might’ve learned how to bend the metals to his will but those close to him learned how to fight fire with fire rather than walk around eggshells around him. 

“You’ve rejected every single person who offered to help. Sooner or later, there’s gonna be no one left to give a shit about us, and we’re already in the negatives!”

“If shit hits the fan, we ask help from others.” Before you can deliver the perfect rebuttal at his hypocrisy, he interrupts as if seeing your intentions from a mile away. “Help from our friends─not the government, those gangs, those rich assholes or the Foundation. People we know we can trust.” 

“Fine. Then what happens when no one else can spare a single bag of groceries or a single dollar for us? What happens when none of them can put their livelihoods on the line anymore because we all have damn bills to pay?” You extend a hand towards the papers, already dissipating. “How many more favors can you cash in before we run out of changes? We’re not getting by just for us five or six anymore, there’s a whole damn group that depends on us now! You heard the sheriff! Everyone carrying these little things? The people they don’t like seeing out in broad daylight? They’re our responsibility now, you’re not a rebellious kid playing around in the streets anymore!” 

You tap on the metal badge pinned to his chest with a little more strength that you intended, this small act gets under his skin because the next time he speaks, he’s screaming. “You think I don’t know that? That I need you to remind me?!” 

“Someone has to with the way you’re acting.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I bumped into you and ruined the whole thing, but if you’re mad about that, then just say it. Don’t bring up other shit just to pick a fight with me.” 

“You’re trying to pick a fight to get out of the fight I’m trying to have with you right now, what are you, five?!” 

“Funny you say that! ‘Cause I sure wasn’t the one who decided to have this argument out in the open!” 

“You’re being stupidly stubborn.” 

“And you’re being stupidly paranoid. When have I ever failed us, huh? Name one time.” 

One? You can name more than one, you could name as many as the wounds and bruises he’s earned in the name of protecting this community. All the days he’s spent in jail, all the beatings he’s taken, all the meals he skipped so that someone else could eat, all the dangerous stunts done in the name of pride─to you, someone forced to look on as the entire weight of the world is placed on his shoulders, these are all shortcomings. Things that could’ve been easily avoided if he simply listened. But here he is, looking down on you, playing the role of hero because it’s all he’s ever known. But he can’t keep doing this, not to himself, not to you or the rest. 

If she’s not here to stop him, then you will. 

“The day you let Paulina go.” 

It takes everything in your body not to cry the moment those words leave your mouth, hitting their target with a hint of resentment you didn’t think you had in you. 

Joe staggers backwards, his expression shifts; he’s no longer the savior of Haight Street, but your bright-eyed and impulsive neighbour, the tallest kid in the block bragging about his latest feats, the kid in trouble failing to jump over the tall, metal fences, the nosy teenager getting involved with the wrong crowds. An arcanist born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Vulnerability paints his features in a way you recognize, the same pain you’ve experienced throughout your life. The subtle quiver of his bottom lip, although imperceptible to the rest of the world, claws at your chest and knocks the air out of you. 

It hurts more than any punch, any insult, any slice of the knife. It feels cruel to steel your gaze after dropping something like this out of the blue, with Paulina’s departure still fresh in everyone’s minds. But you tell yourself that you have to, if only to prevent anyone else from disappearing on you like that. You can’t handle it, not knowing when will be next. One more business closed, one more child abandoned, one more friend missing. Doesn’t he get tired, too? Isn’t he tired of this happening over and over? 

“That’s unfair. No, that’s … that’s messed up. What is wrong with you tonight?!”

“Did you even listen to her? Or did you just decide that she was wrong from the beginning and ignored everything she had to say? Isn’t that why she refuses to even pick up the phone? Or even answer any of our letters?”  

 “She has nothing to do with us anymore, there’s no damn point in bringing her up when she’s left us for a bunch of stuck up─”

“This isn’t about how you feel about her new life.” When you stand your ground, taking a step forward towards him, he does the same. 

“Then what the hell is it?! Why would you even bring her up in the first place?!” When he pounds his fist on the counter, you do the same.

“Because it’s the only way to get you to fucking listen, J. It’s about the way you act, how you keep throwing away every chance we get at making things better because it always has to be your way! You go on and on about asking each other for help, but when was the last time you actually listened to me, to Hollick, to Pioneer, to any of us?! If we can’t even feed ourselves, then how the hell are we going to feed everyone else? You told me to run the numbers, I ran the damn numbers and this is the shitty hand we’ve been dealt.” 

Suddenly, Joe’s shoulders begin to shake as half a smile, half a grimace settles on his face. He laughs at you, bitterly, mockingly. The type of laugh that can only carry a single message─I know better than you. 

“Those investors, they’re only here because they smell the blood in the water! Can you guarantee that they won’t pull the plug once they see an opening to take everything from us? When you sign those damn contracts, it’s over. That’s how they get trap you. That’s how they take advantage of good people like us. I’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but talk to these assholes, and not a single one of them gives a shit about this restaurant or the people here. Wanna know what they all wanted to talk about? Bulldozing the entire thing down. Getting me to convince all our friends to give up their homes and businesses, just so these fancy jerks have all the space in the world to play with.”

You know he’s right, it’s an awful truth you have to acknowledge in the midst of the argument─the Tung Ch’ing Chamber of Commerce did the exact same before, it’s stupid to think that others wouldn’t follow the same pattern as well. And yet… 

“Then throw Pioneer into the damn room when someone else comes to do business with us! Let me, Becket and Hollick be there with you too, damnit J! You have the entire fucking street cheering for you and all you want to do is fix everything on your own! If you weren’t so stubborn, maybe we could even call Paulina and ask her for help, but you’d rather sit here and argue with us about the same damn issue! You’d rather look at us in the face and say that Paulina looks down on us, when you don’t even have the balls to call her! Is that how you want things to be? When I can’t keep paying rent, when I have to hop on a bus and end up who fucking knows where, is that all you will say about me?” 

Silence settles. The hesitation lingering in the air hurts more than anything he could’ve said to you. 

Is that all you are to him? Another naive mind, a nagging voice devoid of any worth? He would rather say goodbye to you and allow the distance to slowly chip away at your friendship, than listen or consider any of your suggestions and ideas. Your arms drop to your sides, suddenly losing every ounce of strength in your body at this sudden realization. The shock on your face must’ve been something if it causes Joe to flinch in surprise. 

You’re tired, so very tired of living in uncertainty; never knowing when you will have the chance to eat, never knowing when your friends will disappear off to greener pastures or silently deported. So tired of fighting for scraps, of living in shadows, of being so close to making a change for the better but having it all ripped out of your hands by a government that doesn’t care. You’re tired of fighting the world and your friends. 

You’re so very tired of being so insignificant in a world that refuses to make space for you, no matter how hard you try to claw your way out of the rubble and poverty. 

And so, you retreat. 

Maybe it’s the last remnants of pride keeping you together, maybe it’s the debilitating exhaustion permeating your bones, but you manage not to stumble and fall over as you brush past him and make your way outside. 

The pair of siblings which you had grown to love so much used to share a dingy room within the diner as children, back when Tang ran the place. And then, one day, you moved right across the street. Throughout all of your childhood, you believed this to be a gift, being able to rush over to play with them as soon as you woke up, and to wave at them from the balcony of your apartment at night. Your best friends, your new family, your new home, all within reach. 

Now, you cross the street knowing very well that there is no place for you to hide from those piercing blue eyes of his. You don’t want him to look at you, not like this. Not as an obstacle and a burden. 

If only you could run far, far away. Just like Paulina did.

[joeybsversion]

Drunk in Love

Joe Burrow x Reader

You and Joe celebrate a big win with the team

“That’s not fair, I always lose!” Joe shouted displeased as he grabbed the plastic cup filled with a concoction of alcohol.

You were out celebrating a Bengal win with the team and Joe had just lost another round of Kings Cup.

“Chug, Joey! You know the rules!” You teased as he slowly sipped on the drink.

“This is disgusting! I’ve already had enough.” He took one last big drink and crushed the cup.

Tee cracked open another drink and passed it down to Joe, “Here man. This is much better.”

Joe took a big swig of his drink. “I want a rematch!” He demanded and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Joe you’ve lost the last 3 rounds. Why would you win now, of all times?” Sam teased and placed another cup in the middle. Joe laughed, unable to think of an excuse. He was having too much fun with everyone.

“Maybe next game you’ll have better luck.” You teased and gave Joe a playful pat on the back. Joe let out a big pout which made everyone at the table laugh. “I think you’ve had enough.” You teased and grabbed his drink and took a sip. “Let’s share this one.” You kissed Joe on the cheek and set the drink down. “I’ll be right back.” You said and gave Joe a reassuring smile and slipped away from the table.

“I’ll miss you!” He called after you with a big grin.

You made your way to the bar and quickly glanced over the menu. You were going to order a few appetizers for the table. Most of the table was hungry, it had been a few hours since you left the stadium with the girls and you all had talked about how hungry you were on the ride over. Plus, you knew the guys would be hungry after the game.

“Can I get a few baskets of fries, some Buffalo chicken wings, an order of nachos, and some pretzel bites please?” You folded up the menu and passed it back the bartender. After all home game wins you rented a room at the teams favorite bar to celebrate. “Oh and a round of waters please.” You added. The bartender copied everything down and let you know he’d be on his way over with the waters soon.

As you made your way back to the table you saw Joe with another plastic cup up to his mouth while the rest of the team was laughing and cheering him on.

“Did you lose again?” You laughed and took your seat next to Joe.

He wiped his mouth and looked over with a big pout “it’s not fair!” He whined. You gave him a quick kiss to cheer him up. “That makes it better.” He smiled and leaned in for another. You could taste the alcohol on his breath as he kissed you.

“Y/N, what can I get you to drink?” Sam asked as he got up from the table and made his way back to the bar to order another round.

“Surprise me!” You smiled. “And Joe is good for now.” You laughed.

Sam came back with a round of shots and drinks for everyone. Joe clinked his shot glass with yours as you both choked down the drink. The whole table was feeling pretty buzzed now and the food was making its way around. It has been such a fun night. With all the stress that comes with the games it’s nice to see everyone relax.

The drinks continued to flow until the early morning hours. Couples had slowly started to filter out as it got later. “We should probably think about going, Joey.” You slurred and grabbed his hand. “It’s getting later and I’m pretty sleepy.” You brushed your hair out of your face and leaned onto his shoulder.

“I’ll order a car.” Joe drunkenly pulled out his phone and ordered a ride. “I have a car that’ll be here n 20.” He shouted to the end of the table.

“We’ll hop in with ya!” Ja’Marr hollered back and motioned between himself and Tee. You all lived pretty close together so you rode together a lot of the time.

You all stumbled out to the sidewalk together and stood taking selfies and posting drunk Instagram stories while you waited for the car.

“There he is!” Joe hollered and flung himself into the backseat of the car, pulling you in with him.

Giggles flooded out if you as you Joe held you in his lap making jokes with the guys and drunkenly goofing off on the ride home. You clung to Joe like he was the only sense of comfort you could find. “I really like you.” Joe whispered into your ear as he pulled you closer and gave you a big hug. Your stomach did a somersault, “I really like you too, Joey.” You gave him a kiss.

“Get a room!” Tee hollered and covered his eyes.

“You’re just jealous!” Joe murmured back in between kisses. “Here’s our stop though!” He said and ducked out of the car. “Night guys!” He smiled and waved.

“Use protection! We don’t need a baby burrow running around!” Ja’Marr teased as you and Joe made your way into the house for the night.

[qqueenofhades]

One of my biggest annoyances is leftists and communists beinging up Biden’s tweets during the 2020 campaign of things he said he would do, and being like “see?? he didn’t deliver on anything and this is why you shouldn’t vote for the Dems again” Like, for all the understanding they seem to have of communist or marxist or whatever theory, the idea that the President is not a king and can’t do whatever he wants without Congress’s approval is lost on them?? He still believes in those things but if Congress won’t pass the legislation what is he supposed to do? EOs won’t solve all our problems.

Yeah. Not even to mention, the claim that "Biden hasn't done/delivered anything!!!" is a big fat lie, as people keep pointing out the things he has done, with a razor-thin House majority (until 2022) and two "Democratic" senators who torpedoed everything and one of whom has now literally left the party (Manchin and Sinema). So while Online Leftists obviously don't understand the difference between "achieving all of his campaign goals" and "achieving some," for the last frikkin time, Biden has done a lot of good things in very bad circumstances!!!!!! Using "he didn't do everything!!!!" as an excuse to not vote and so enable the open and unrepentant fascists is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard!!!!

Like. Take the debt deal. As in other things, Biden clearly learned from Obama's mistake (which was believing that the Republicans would ever negotiate in good faith about anything, and/or would reciprocate in kind if Biden made concessions). McCarthy whined for WEEKS that Biden wasn't listening and wasn't talking to him and wasn't entertaining his ridiculous proposals (22% cuts in ALL discretionary/non-military spending, including Social Security, Medicare, etc etc, while preserving the giant Trump tax cuts for the rich.) No matter that a full one-quarter of the national debt ($7.8 trillion of $31 trillion) was racked up under Trump and the debt ceiling involves paying bills that have already been spent. No sir, those Damn Free-Spending Democrats wanted to use your money on icky things like ~social welfare!! It was mean and it was hypocritical and it was blindingly obvious, and Biden just completely ignored it. He didn't try to negotiate in good faith with that, because there was no way it would work. He just let them whine.

Then, when it came down to it, Biden went in and got a deal that preserves pretty much all of the Democrats' major legislative priorities and expansions from the last two years. The only real change is raising the work requirement age for childless adults on SNAP food assistance from 49 to 54, but this has also been accompanied by a corresponding expansion of the definition "homeless" to make more people eligible, some for the first time ever. There's not going to be any major new spending for the next two years, but that wasn't happening anyway since the GOP controls the House and wouldn't agree to anything Biden put in the budget (and plus, none of the money that has already been allocated through the American Rescue Plan and other federal assistance is getting taken away). But more importantly, it raises the debt ceiling for the next TWO years and it won't come up again until after 2024. That is HUGE: the GOP really, REALLY wanted to hold the economy hostage again prior to the next presidential election. But Biden basically went in and told McCarthy to stfu and got what he wanted. Qevin was even forced, after months of "Sleepy Joe" GOP propaganda, to call Biden "very smart and very tough" in the negotiations. Soooo.

Anyway, this is what I mean: this isn't as sexy and/or as utterly fucking useless as spouting lukewarm rebaked "Marxist" propaganda on the Twittermachine about how Biden hasn't done anything, but it's the actual nitty-gritty work of government and flat-out beating the Republicans. They got absolutely shit-all that they wanted, because Biden didn't fall for their same old, same old dirty tricks and disingenuous squealing. He went in, got the job done, and will get way less credit for it than he deserves, from anyone. Dunno about you, but I like that guy. I plan to vote for him again.