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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

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🎁🎁🎁 Make Good Ones

A SNEAKRET SANTA GIFT DRABBLE

A/N: Merry December and Happy Holidays, everyone! Don’t mind me, I’m just here to leave another gift under the tree. These are my way of giving back to some of the lovely content creators here whose work brings me joy. I tried to personalize them a little bit for each person they’re dedicated to, but they’re just as much my gift to anyone who has ever shared their work or who has ever read mine. Thank you for being lovely <3

Gift Tag: @something-tofightfor - Who gave this response when I asked her “Joel or Jack” - “I hate you for making me choose.” - I know, it was rude of me. But I was preeeeeeetty sure which way she was going to lean, so when the answer was Joel this basically started writing itself. The prompts I chose to work in for this one were ornaments, wrapping paper, & Christmas tree. Rachael, your Joel is so incredibly special, and the way that you write him - and all of your characters - is a huge inspiration to me as a writer. I have you to thank for introducing me to this fictional (pixel) man in the first place, so I truly hope you enjoy these few thousand words about him at the holidays. Thank you for being so goddamn wonderful. I frickin love you!

WC: 3,198

Warnings: canon typical angst, discussion about loss, no actual spoilers though, and it’s overall a fluff. This is stand alone and is not connected to Survivor Blues or anything else I have written for Joel.

It had started off as a simple question one night at the end of November - you asking Joel what his and Ellie’s plans for Christmas were that year. He’d told you that they were going to have dinner with Tommy and Maria on Christmas Eve, but that the following day they had no plans, so you had invited them to your place, telling him that the holiday was your favorite and that you would love to spend it with the two of them.

It had turned into something more when he’d surprised you by asking you why it was your favorite holiday.

That was a story that revealed far more than the actual answer to his innocuous question, but as the two of you lay together on your couch one night, a fire that he’d built warming the space and soft music coming from the record player in the corner, you decided that there was no one else that you’d rather tell it to. “It’s a long story,” you said with a sigh, leaning into him. “You sure you want me to-”

He answered by kissing the crown of your head and mumbling, “I’ve got time.” Alright. You relaxed into him as he shifted his legs so that you could fit between them. He asked, so… so here goes.

“So, my grandparents had one of those old bottle brush looking things from the 70’s.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You know, those silver ones that looked more like pipe-cleaners than pine trees?”

You felt the rumble of his chuckle against your back as it left his chest. “Yeah, I remember those.” His work-worn fingers slid over your knuckles and you spread yours to accommodate them, letting him drag you closer as he tightened his grip. “Pretty sure our Grandma had one, too.”

He kissed your temple, the bristle of his facial hair gently scraping your skin, his warm breath fanning over it. You closed your eyes at the sensation like you always did, focusing on the way you felt the rise and fall of his lungs, the steady thrum of his heartbeat at your spine. We’re alive. We’re here. We have this. You swept your thumb over his pinky finger and let out a hum. “Did she?” You laughed. “I think everyone’s did.”

He snorted. “Probably. It was what was popular then, right?”

“It was,” you agreed. “Though I really don’t know why. They were so… goddamn awful, Joel.”

You could still picture it standing in front of the window, your grandpa’s recliner moved into the corner so the tree could take center stage in the small living room. All the ornaments your mom, your aunts and your uncle crafted and collected as kids were mixed with antique baubles and retro style glass starbursts, and keepsake frames with old photos secured to the faux branches with red ribbons. Combined with the hundreds of brightly colored lights that used to captivate you every time you saw them, the tree - despite being a hideous thing on its own - always seemed beautiful and magical to you in your memory.

As his gravelly laughter settled down, you opened your eyes and sighed. “But my cousins and I loved going over there around the holidays. We were all pretty close in age and for the most part we got along and…” Your throat suddenly became tight, but you swallowed and kept going. Because I want him to know this. Want him to know me. “And we loved looking at all the old ornaments. Some of them we’d even take off the tree and play with.”

Joel let out a burst of air through his nose that you felt against your scalp. “Oh, I bet your grandma loved that.”

The visual of the woman raising her arms and her voice in utter disapproval from the kitchen doorway while the eight of you scattered away from the tree in a fit of giggles was one that you were happy you could still so easily recall. We were trouble. Sorry, Nana.

Deep down - even then, as she shook a wooden spoon in the air - you knew she loved the trouble you all caused.

“To be fair, she just didn’t want anything to get broken or for any of us to cut ourselves on shards of glass that was probably decorated with toxic paint.”

The tip of his nose trailed over the side of your head, and then he dropped his lips there as he spoke. “Sounds about right.”

You hummed at the way his words vibrated through you, adding to the warmth of his body wrapped around yours, and though you would have liked to stay in that position - and in Joel’s arms - indefinitely, the next part of the story you were telling was the most important, and you wanted to look at him as you told it. Squeezing his hand before you loosened your fingers, you turned in his hold. Early on in your relationship, and before you could even call it one, if you would have moved or shifted away from him the same way that you just did, he would have pulled away. He would have taken his hands off of you, possibly would have even left the bed or the couch under either under the assumption that you wanted to get away from him, or that he shouldn’t want to be so close. Now though, after almost a full year of being with him, he hardly ever pulled away. And I never want him to.

You settled yourself so that your back was against the couch cushion and your side was pressed to his chest, and you waited for his arms to fold around you before continuing. “We weren’t really interested in the fragile ones though. She had this set of little… they were Santa’s reindeer, and they were all wearing knit sweaters with their names on them. You know, Dasher and Prancer and…” You trailed off, circling one wrist to imply the rest of the reindeer and Joel nodded. “Since there were the same number of them as there were of us, we used to all claim our favorite one and-” You laughed, even as the memory began to stir something bittersweet in your heart, shrugging away the thickness in your throat. “I don’t know what we did, really, just… played with them.”

Joel’s dark eyes, brightened by the orange glow of the fire light, never left your face even as you took a pause to wet your lips and blink back the tears that you knew would eventually end up falling. Even though it’s a funny story it’s… I miss them. But it was one that you wanted and needed to tell. The point of making memories is to keep them alive. The motion of Joel’s roughened thumb sweeping across the strip of your waist that was visible between the hem of your shirt and the top of your sweatpants grounded you enough to keep going.

“One year, I think I was nine or ten maybe? My grandma noticed that Dasher was missing. She had all of us turn the house upside down looking for it. Then she had us all turn out our pockets and-” You laughed again, but this time a stray tear did make it past your lashes, rolling slowly down your cheek. I’m not sad though. “Well, long story short, one of us stole him.”

Moving his hand from your hip to your face, Joel used his knuckle to wipe under your eye. “Lemme guess,” his expression was softer than it usually was, even as he narrowed his eyes. “No one ever fessed up.”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head, even as his palm curved around your cheek. “Never. We never found out who took him. But-” You raised one eyebrow. “It’s a good thing one of us did, because about three years later my grandparents’ basement flooded, and all their decorations got ruined.”

Although you were all happy and relieved that your grandparents had been able to get to safety before the storm had gotten too bad, it was a sad time for your family because of the loss of so many heirlooms and keepsakes. “That’s shitty,” Joel mumbled apologetically, lips dipping into a frown.

“Yeah, it was.” You sighed. “But then that next Christmas, Dasher showed up on their new tree.”

Blinking away another few tears, you broke into a smile as you recalled what it meant to everyone - your aunts and uncles, your mom and grandparents, you and all your cousins - to see that silly little deer, his sweater slightly pulled and one hoof a little dinged up - amidst all of the new filler ornaments your grandma had gotten until they could replenish their collection. That was such a good day.

Joel gave you a small grin, the lines and shadows on his face seeming to fade as he did. “I’m glad it made its way back.” Oh, just wait, I haven’t even… “You ever find out who took him in the first place?”

You shook your head. “Nope. No clue. No one ever confessed, and if anyone knew who did it, they didn’t rat them out.”

He hummed. “Somthin’ to be said for that.”

There is. You agreed. We always had each other’s backs. “When we all got older, after…” You took a breath. “After our grandparents passed away, we decided that every Christmas we should take turns putting Dasher on our tree. We’d pass him off at Thanksgiving on years that we all got together, or else we’d mail him to each other a few weeks before Christmas.”

“That’s a nice tradition.”

“It is, Joel. It’s…” You turned your face away, just for a second, to pull yourself together. I should just… show him. When you turned back towards him, you saw the question in his eyes. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You leaned in and dropped your lips to his cheek, just above the line of his beard, and then you stood from the couch.

He didn’t say anything as you padded over to the hall closet, the only sound in the room coming from the shifting logs in the fireplace and your socked footsteps on the hardwood, but you felt his eyes still on you even as you opened the closet door. Reaching up for the highest shelf, you pulled down the cardboard box that was there and took the small reindeer from it. You turned it over in your hand, feeling the stitching that read the animal’s name, poking at one of the points of its antlers, and then you closed the closet and brought the figurine out.

“Well, shit, is that…” He nodded at the anthropomorphic reindeer that you held, one arm over the back of the couch as he watched you reenter the room.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, your voice catching as you came back to sit next to him. Bending one knee, you drew that leg up under you and handed the ornament over.

As soon as it was in his hands, you realized that while you’d displayed the ornament on your tree every year since you’d arrived in Jackson, Joel was the first person that you actually shared its story with. As he looked more closely at it, turning it in his hand, the firelight glinted off the broken face of his watch, and you were reminded of the night that Joel had shared the item’s importance and meaning with you. Seeing both his watch and your ornament, relics of your former lives side by side like that, hit you hard - but like the memories connected to Dasher, the wave of emotion wasn’t painful or sad. It was deep, and it swelled in your chest, but it wasn’t trying to drag you down. It just means… You swallowed, looking up at him as he continued to stare at what he held. It means we know each other and that’s… He finally blinked, his focus shifting up to your face. That’s everything.

You cleared your throat and Joel leaned forward to gently place the ornament on the coffee table. His newly emptied hand came to rest on your knee, and you glanced down before placing yours on top of it and continuing on. “It um… 2013 was supposed to be my turn to have him.” You sniffed, took a breath and let it out slowly. “Wasn’t expecting to get anything in the mail until closer to Christmas, but then the first week of September I got a package from my cousin Devon.” You could still see the swirling letters of her handwriting on the note that accompanied the small box on your doorstep. “She had just taken a job offer in Toronto and she was moving up there at the end of the month, but-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence. You both knew how September had ended that year.

So you didn’t. At least, you didn’t finish it the way Joel expected you to. “But she didn’t want to pay international shipping rates to get it to me if she waited until Thanksgiving.”

That was what her note had said - a joke, but also the truth - along with the phrase they all always included when Dasher got passed around. Make good ones this year.

“So that’s… this little guy is my thing. My thing from before. My…”

“It's the thing that reminds you.” He cut in, saving you from having to find the words to describe how much this inherently worthless ornament made from plastic and yarn actually meant to you. “Reminds you why you keep fighting. Reminds you of… of things worth thinkin’ about.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, swiping the heel of your palm under your eyes.

Joel reached for you then, drawing you close to his chest and wrapping you in his arms again, and you let him. You laid your cheek on his shoulder and felt his large hand cradle the back of your head, and then you felt his lips at your ear, your name coming from them. “Thank you for tellin’ me all that.” You kissed his neck in response, targeting one of the freckles there. “So Christmas is big for you, huh?”

You gave a small laugh that you knew he both felt and heard. “Christmas memories are big for me, Joel, but…” Picking your head up, you looked at the man that you had fallen in love with over the past year, hoping that you got to spend countless more holidays with him. “But yeah, you could say that.” The story finished, your history shared, you turned your body and took the same position that you were in when you started the conversation, Joel following your lead and tucking your spine to his sternum. “That’s why I conserve Christmas lights. I’ve found a few strings of ‘em that still work while out on sweeps and supply runs but I know eventually I won’t be able to find functioning ones anymore so… I only use one or two strands on my tree every year so I can make them last longer.”

Joel let out a breath in an amused huff. “Can’t have a tree with no lights, right?”

“Right.”

That had been the end of that conversation, and shortly after, that night. Both of you had fallen asleep on your couch in front of the fire, only making it into the bedroom when Joel woke you up in the middle of the night.

So when he brought it up again with just two weeks to go until Christmas, pulling a small oddly shaped and crudely wrapped package from his pocket after shedding his jacket and hanging it next to yours on the hook, you titled your head to the side in question. “Joel? What’s…”

“I know it’s not Christmas yet, but this is… this is part’a your gift and it’s…” He handed you the package, the paper crinkling as it passed from his grasp to yours. “I wanted you to have it now.”

His eyes darted to the tree that you’d set up in the living room. It was just the top few feet of a tree, really, since you only had a handful of things to hang on it - a few photos you’d managed to save through everything, some pinecones and cinnamon sticks you’d bundled together with ribbons and string, strands of buttons you’d found, one string of multicolored lights, and of course, Dasher the reindeer.

You glanced down at the wrapping and immediately had to laugh. “Let me guess. Ellie helped with this?”

Joel shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “Well I wasn’t able to find any Christmas wrapping paper and Maria didn’t have any so I asked her if we could make this work and…” He trailed off as you ran your fingers over the drawn on Santa hats and holly wreaths that Ellie had used markers to add to dinosaur themed birthday wrap. “We had to make do.”

You felt your heart flip as you laughed, shaking your head and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s perfect. Very festive.”

“Well, aren’t you gonna open it?” He crossed his arms and stuck his chin out at the package you held.

“Alright.” You carefully slipped your finger under the paper and lifted it, not wanting to rip it and ruin Ellie’s work. I can definitely add this to the tree somehow. You thought of Devon’s message and the instruction to “make good ones”, and you couldn’t think of a better memory to add than one that would mark the addition of Ellie and Joel in your life.

But that thought was quickly paused when you pulled the gift from the paper and saw what it was. Oh, Joel. You sucked in a breath as the pieces of wood in your hand clanked together. Oh, he… he- “Did you make this?” The words were barely a whisper, but even if he hadn’t heard the question you already knew the answer. He did. He carved these. He-

“Yeah. They’re… Can you tell what they are? Ellie said she could, but I don’t know if-“

“Lights.” The breath you sucked in shuddered as you stared at the string of small hand-carved and painted wooden bulbs in your hand. He’d shaped them to look just like the old fashioned ones that your grandparents had and attached five of them together to mimic a whole strand, knotting them off so that they stayed in place and didn’t slide along the “wire”. Oh, Joel, you…

“They are.” Tears spilled over your bottom lashes as he brought one hand up to rub at the back of his neck like he did when he was uncertain. “I wanted to make sure your tree always had lights on it, even if you couldn’t replace the real ones anymore. I know it ain’t the same, but I-“

“Joel.” He stopped talking and stepped closer to you, hands going to your waist. This. This is a good one. “They’re not the same.” You raised onto your toes to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, and then you left a kiss to the scar that crossed the bridge of it. “They’re better.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or by filling out the form on my masterlist :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @amb11 @mindidjarin @tentacruels @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfang @sleepylunarwolf @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato

#sneakret santa 2022 #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #tlou joel miller #ellie williams #tlou ellie #happy holidays!!#make good ones #pedro pascal character #pedrostories #joel miller christmas fic

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skribblz · 1 year

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YO YO YOOOO HOW U DOIN BEEN A BIT HOPE UR TRIP WENT WELL >:DDDDDDD

AnYwaYs I gots a lil thing for u :D

✨tadaaaaaaaa✨ *jazz hands* it’s

T h e m

Anywaysss I hope u like it I tried to finish it for Christmas but obviously my slow butt and suffering with senkus hair postponed that so apologies for how late it is butttt

Happy late crimis skribz ur frickin amazing and wonderufl and u better not forget it >:D <3

i am LITERALLY OBSESSED MY GOD YOU DID SO GOOD AS ALWAYS

they HOLDINF HANDS the PROXIMITY the SUPPORT they are made for eachother <3 <3 <3

you talented beautiful scallywag good god my mind is racing bc its THEM but also seriously the amount youve improved since last month??? its like in december you decided to go crazy insane and just bust out some of the most scrumptious art just bc you can. the moment i laid my eyes on this masterpiece i was like “OMG ART- ART OF THEM IN GHOST’S STYLE AND 👀👀👀👀👀 WH O A” man you are thriving, your poses are getting more fluid and the subtle details, like the slight turn of gen’s head is so delicious to look at. like holy sheet you drew their bodies so well??? you trace them or smth???? 🤨🤨🤨 nah jk you’d never do that, but really, i just feel your recent pieces have gotten more confident and just leveled up in a way??? and i just hope that youre proud of yourself and know that all those back breaking, neck cracking, and shrimp posture hours are paying off. (tho plz, sit up straight i am begging you i dont wanna hear no 3892927th “i think that was the loudest crack i made :D” like this aint no competition?????) but yeah anyways i really need to drive home the fact that youre amazing, your progress is amazing, and how lovely of a person you are. i feel like a proud parent, my heart is soaring, this is all your fault 😤 fly high mcchild

okay that last part was weird but its late so whatever

merry crisis chrisler chismis and god plz give us a happy new year for once we’ve had enough thanks

and tysm for thinking of me even when i go mia for a random amount days :’)

i cant stop scrolling up to stare at them nsjdjsksksjsnssn they are so cute- i am aggressively cradling this art rn im going feral

#dr. stone #asagiri gen #ishigami senku #sengen #c u t i e s #beautiful art #i hope youre sleeping #enjoy your break (threat)#:)#you better be having yummy foods and drinking water #santa’s always watching #why you still in the tags #get outta here lol #ugh i cant and wont get over th way gen looks #and how fricken cute senku is

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dreaminlittlenightmares · 1 year

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What is everyone's favorite Christmas song?

The Maw

Six: I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, Gayla Peevey the Janitor: White Christmas, Bing Crosby the Twin Chefs: Welcome To The Christmas Parade, Mariah Carey vs MCR the Lady: Last Christmas, Wham! the Granny: Santa Baby, Eartha Kitt the Runaway Kid: We Three Kings, Epic Cover

Pale City

Mono: Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, Brenda Lee the Hunter: the 12 Pains of Christmas, Bob Rivers the Teacher: Christmas Time is Here, Vince Guraldi Trio (the Peanuts) the Doctor: Carol of the Bells, Home Alone version the Thin Man: Baby, It's Cold Outside, Margaret Whiting and Johnny Mercer

The Nest

the Raincoat Girl: the Nutcracker Suite, Tchaikovsky the Craftsman: Merry Frickin' Christmas, Frickin' A the Butler: You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, Jim Carrey the Pretender: All I Want for Christmas is You, Mariah Carey

#little nightmares #Six #the Janitor #the Twin Chefs #the Lady #the Granny #the Runaway Kid #Mono #the Hunter #the Teacher #the Doctor #the Thin Man #the Raincoat Girl #the Craftsman #the Butler #the Pretender #music headcanon #dream granted

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freesia-writes · 6 months

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Santa Cross has given you a visit! Hope your holidays are well and merry!

hahahaha, this is frickin amazing. Can I sit on his lap and tell him what I want for Christmas? ;)

Thanks so much, friend! Cute idea!

#santa cross

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ginger-bitops · 1 year

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MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME!!!

I don’t normally have the attention span to read the side stories in Cookie Run, but I couldn’t help slowing down as soon as I saw Black Raisin and Pure Vanilla. So happy now, cuz I frickin love their friendship! 🥺💕

#cookie run #black raisin cookie #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run kingdom

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banannabethchase · 1 year

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Somebody placed mistletoe all over the arena. It is a tradition, after all.

Thank you to @sarahcakes613 for the prompt! This is fun and fluffy and my favorite parts of fanfiction. I wish you a relaxing and soft Sunday, and I hope you enjoy and have restful and meaningful holidays if you celebrate :)

Mini playlist (we're going with some of my favorite weird as hell holiday songs): Mixtape for Christmas - Hey Monday Christmas Past, Present, and Future - Ashlee Simpson All I Want for Christmas Is You - Bowling for Soup Merry Merry Merry Frickin' Christmas - Frickin' A

They sneak in at five in the morning, bribing a security guard to let them in. They have devious, hilarious plans in store for the AEW roster. Something that will provide them with blackmail and, maybe, just enough holiday spirit to pick up the energy of the place.

Wheeler is somewhere in the hallway of a San Antonio arena, too distracted by the pain in his neck to think straight.

He blinks as best he can, glancing around, trying to focus his gaze. He just has to get to the trainer’s room. He thinks that, maybe, he should have listened to Mox and waited for him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Wheeler turns around to see Daniel Garcia, standing in the hallway. He’s pretty sure he’s standing still, but he can’t be positive about it. Either way, one of them is swaying back and forth.

“Hi, Danny,” Wheeler says, trying to seem normal. “I’m trying to-to find the trainer’s room. Know where it is?”

Danny looks behind himself, then back at Wheeler, rolling his eyes. “Come with me.”

“That promo you did with Sammy,” Wheeler says, because he can’t remember how to shut his mouth, “he called you a tightass,” Wheeler laughs. He trips over his boot. He only manages not to collapse on the floor because Danny grabs his arm and hauls him back up normal.

“Shut up,” Danny says, shoving him halfway across the hallway. Wheeler stumbles and bumps into the wall, but it’s enough of a jolt to get his head on a little straighter.

“You can’t push an injured guy,” Wheeler says, shooting him a grin.

Danny rolls his eyes, “You’re fine.” He pauses, eyeing Wheeler. “Right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Wheeler replies. “Rush got me good.” He winces as he rolls his neck, feeling Danny’s eyes on him the whole time. “He hits hard.”

Danny laughs. “Please.”

“Not as hard as you do,” Wheeler offers. “But hard.”

Danny straightens up, and Wheeler can tell he’s preening, just a little bit. “I mean, my specialty is submissions and his is just, like, wailing on somebody until they crumple. Like you did.” He grins at Wheeler, a little mean.

“Oh, bite me,” Wheeler says.

“Gladly, you little shit,” Danny says. “The trainer’s here.” He pauses in the doorway. And Wheeler notices something.

“Um, am I concussed, or is that mistletoe up there?” He nods upward, the action making his entire body ache.

Danny burns bright pink. Wheeler thinks its cuter than he probably should. “Oh.” He laughs, a little low, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Wheeler makes a decision, and slides in next to Danny in the doorway. “I mean, it’s there, right?”

Danny licks his lips. “I – I guess so.”

“Plus, you told me to bite me in that match, and I haven’t followed up on that, and then I just told you to, so…”

Danny grins. “Oh, that’s how it is?”

Wheeler would respond, but instead, he’s leaning in, lips pressed to Danny’s, and the aching is replaced with something fresher, newer, brighter.

“Quit making out and get checked out!” shouts somebody in the trainer’s room.

“You’re the one who put up the mistletoe!” Danny snaps back. He shoves Wheeler in through the doorway. “This dumbass got lost in the hallway. He probably needs ice.” He leaves his hand on Wheeler’s lower back, though, for just a few moments longer than he has to.

“Talk to you later?” Wheeler asks, and he won’t let himself cringe at the hopefulness in his voice.

Danny nods, though. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“Hangman, the handsome cowboy,” Adam sings along with the video. He grins at the way the Dark Order used to be, the joy, the comradery. The absolute confusion in his eyes at the idea that these people loved him.

He misses it.

He sings along with the bastardized lyrics, leaning up against the wall of the arena, letting the nostalgia settle over him like a blanket.

“Hey,” comes a quiet voice from behind his screen.

Adam looks up to see Matt Jackson in front of him, with a smile on his face. He hasn’t seen that smile directed toward him in, god, years. “Matt.” His voice is too gentle, too soft, too fond. “Hi.”

“It’s the, uh, season of giving,” Matt says, fidgeting with the end of his hair. “And love or whatever. And I wanted to say, um, I wanted to say I’ve got your back.”

Adam blinks at him. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I mean, Mox is being a big ol’ bitch out there.” He grins, like he’s proud of himself for swearing. “I, uh. When you have the match, I wanted to tell you, I’ll be your second.”

Adam pushes off the wall, walking toward him. He always forgets, until these moments, how much bigger, taller he is than Matt. How much of Matt’s height is ego and attitude. How much smaller he becomes when he lets it go and allows himself to just be Matt. “Really?”

Matt nods, looking up at him, those big brown eyes honest. “Yes.”

Adam feels some of the ice in his heart crumble at that, some of the loneliness melt out of him. “Want to grab lunch?” he thumbs to the door. “Unless, I mean, unless you’ve eaten.”

“No, yeah, sure,” Matt says. “Catering’s got a really good salad bar today.” He lights up. “They have pickled beets!”

“Ew,” Adam says automatically, but he’s lucky. Matt’s face doesn’t fall, his demeanor doesn’t shift back to cold distance. “I hate beets.”

“That’s because you’re boring,” Matt says. He shuffles the two of them into catering, where he pauses. “After you.”

Adam tilts his head back to shake the hair out of his face, when he notices something hanging from the sprinkler. His first thought is it must be a major fire hazard. The next is that it’s mistletoe. He makes a strange, strangled little noise.

“What – oh.” Matt’s followed Adam’s gaze up. “That’s mistletoe.”

“Yep.” Adam looks down at Matt, expecting him to be spooked.

“Well,” Matt says, steadying himself. “Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“It’s a tradition!” Matt exclaims. “Oh, come on, you can’t not know about mistletoe, Hangman.”

“I know what mistletoe is, obviously,” Adam replies, flustered. “I just – I’m surprised you want me to kiss you, is all.”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, brown eyes looking so miserable that, even if he didn’t want to, Adam would probably kiss him just to make it stop.

But he does want to. He glances around, checking to make sure nobody is watching, then rests his hand on the side of Matt’s neck. Matt looks up at him through his eyelashes. It doesn’t feel fair.

“You gonna kiss me?” Matt asks, voice breathy and soft.

His answer is a gentle press of the lips, something they’ve done once or twice before, and it feels like friendship renewed.

“Moxie!” Eddie yells down the hallway. “You got your ass beat by the cowboy again!”

“Get in here,” Mox snaps, grabbing Eddie’s arm and dragging him into his locker room. Eddie’s still grinning, though, and Mox is halfway to throwing him back out in the hallway if he could trust Eddie could shut up for a second.

“Aw, Mox, gonna be like old times?” Eddie crowds into Mox’s space. Mox lets him, getting pressed up against the wall, fingers threaded with Eddie’s.

“Not if you’re gonna be a dick,” Mox says back, and Eddie laughs against his neck, pressing kisses. “Come on, you don’t get to give me a hickey after making fun of me. Quit it.”

Eddie pulls away, eyes sparkling. “What, you don’t think it’s funny?”

“I don’t,” Mox says, but he doesn’t shove Eddie off. “Hangman’s got a chip on his shoulder. That’s not my fault.”

“You knocked him out.”

“Again, glass jaw, not my fault!” Mox throws his hands in the air. “Look, man, why the hell is everybody all mad at me for? Ooh, sweet baby Cowboy got hurt. Mox is a bad, evil man for being good at his job and winning his match.” He slumps back against the wall. “Everybody is a big fuckin’ whiner.”

Eddie studies him. “You had a smoke recently?”

Mox thinks about it. “Uh. No.”

“That’s why you’re being bitchy,” Eddie says, more to himself than to Mox. “Come on. We’re going outside.” He grabs Mox’s arm, and he goes along without much of a fight. Because Eddie’s right – it’s been a while since his last cigarette.

Unfortunately, this day is destined to piss him off.

“Hangman,” Mox says, steeling himself for a fight.

Adam Page rolls his fucking eyes at him. “God damn it, Moxley, can’t I go take a piss without you in my face?”

“You’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me,” Mox says. He puts his hands behind his back, grinning. “Take a swing, baby. I’ll even let you try to knock me out, yeah?”

“While this is fun,” Eddie says, “I think you two should look up.”

He looks at Page, then looks up, and looks back at Page, who looks, surprisingly, fatigued. “Oh, god,” Page says, “not another one.”

“Another one?” Mox says. “Aw, Cowboy, you been puttin’ your lips on somebody else? I thought you were all about me right now.”

Page stares at him, blue-green eyes unblinking for a moment. Then he strides toward him, grabs Mox’s face in his hands, and gives Mox the kind of kiss that makes him go a bit weak in the knees. Mox finds his footing, though, and gives back just as hard, clacking teeth with it. Page pushes him away as fast as he came at him. “I’ll kick your ass later,” Page says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which definitely should not have given Mox a boner. “I gotta get back to my hotel before somebody else does some more stupid shit to make me stay here.” He nods to Eddie, like this isn’t weird at all, and walks past the two of them without another look back.

“I like him,” Eddie decides. “I know he’s your arch enemy right now or whatever, but I like him. The man’s got balls.”

“I…” Mox finds his fingers touching his lips, his brain a little dizzy. “Did that just happen?”

Eddie studies his face, then his eyes drop down to Mox’s crotch. “Oh. Of course. Your horny bastard. Alright, go back to the locker room. Fuck first, then cigarette.”

Mox shrugs. He can work with that order of events.

“First, though,” Eddie grabs Mox by the neck and hauls him in for a kiss, less angry than Page’s, but more possessive, more demanding. Mox loves this kind of kiss from Eddie. “Alright. Better.”

“Better?” Mox asks. “What the fuck was wrong with me?”

“Uh, I can’t put my dick in your mouth with you having Hangman spit all up in there.” He pats Mox’s cheek. “Now you’re better. Let’s go.”

Kenny Omega is fucking tired.

“You gotta do this bit, Omega-man,” Matt says, practically vibrating. “If you don’t start now, we’re missing a whole storyline detail, and then new people won’t know who the eff Ibushi is when he shows up at Revolution, and then we’ve lost the audience.” He perches on the side of the table, hops off, does a little jump on his toes, and goes right back on the table. “Come on. Please?”

Kenny exhales and turns to Matt. “Okay. Fine. But you and Cutler are out of here once we’re done.”

Matt nods. “Totally. Definitely.”

“You had another one of those Death coffees again, didn’t you?”

Matt shrugs. “Gets the job done. Don’t judge me.”

They run the bit, something practically invisible unless you know who Ibushi is, know that he’s Kenny’s favorite person and the biggest heartbreak he’s ever had. He wishes he knew how to tell Matt that this, the ex, is off limits. But he can’t.

“We good?” Kenny asks, curling up on the couch. “I need a nap.”

“We have EVP duties,” Matt says, frowning.

He might scream, later, when he’s back in his hotel room. “Can’t you and Nick take care of it?”

“It’s a three man job, and Tony’s on the phone yapping at somebody to stay for interviews,” Matt says. “So it’s the Elite taking over.”

Kenny follows him and, too late, realizes he forgot his phone in his locker room.

“I swear, I’ll be there,” Kenny promises Matt. “Seriously. Just give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” Matt repeats.

Kenny nods, because he knows what this is. “Five minutes.” He turns on his heel and makes his way back to his locker room, one closest to the exit. On the final turn to the room, he sees him.

Hangman.

Adam.

He’s on the phone, by the exit, talking frenetically and fidgeting with his belt buckle. He looks no different than before, when they were whatever they were. Champions, he guesses, but there was always so much more. Most unfortunately, though, he’s leaning up against the door of Kenny’s room.

He promised Matt five minutes. If he breaks that promise…

Kenny straightens his back, girds his loins, as they say, and walks toward the door like everything is normal. “Hey,” he says. “My locker room. Can I get in?”

Adam’s eyes are a little panicked, a little wild. He looks upwards, looks at Kenny, looks up again, and relaxes. “Sorry. Yeah. Uh.” He slides to the side. “Go right ahead.” He turns back to the phone. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Give me a minute.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Kenny says, waving it off. He feels too hot all of a sudden. Before he thinks about it, he pulls his shirt off over his head as he pushes into the locker room, then comes out with his phone. “You can, uh, go back there.”

Adam stares at him. “In front of a door? I, uh, I’m good here.” He wiggles his phone. “Tony’s trying to convince me to do some sort of interview later, but I’m exhausted.”

“You should,” Kenny says automatically. Adam raises his eyebrows. “Stay, I mean. I think people are really going to want to hear your plan for Moxley.”

Adam lets a small smile escape. “What, like, other than me wanting to drag him to hell?”

Kenny shrugs. “There could be more to it. I’m not in your head.”

Adam flinches like he got slapped, and Kenny wonders why he constantly fucks up with this man. “Yeah, you, uh, you’re not.” He pushes his hair out of his face. “You know where Tony is?”

“Yeah, I think he’s in the office. I’ll take you there.” It feels like an olive branch, at least to Kenny. Adam asking for help, allowing Kenny to give it. It feels like healing.

It’s devastatingly boring small talk on the short walk to the EVP office, talking about the weather and the traffic, but it’s more words between them without rage than they’ve exchanged since 2020.

“There’s a hallway between here and his office, but, uh, I’m sure he’ll let you in.” Kenny offers a smile to Adam, doing his best to be okay, be calm. To not spook him.

Adam nods. “Thanks, Kenny.” His eyes are locked onto Kenny’s. “I mean it.”

Kenny makes a strange little gesture toward the door, and his hand brushes against something hanging on the doorknob. He looks down, confused. “Oh.”

Adam follows his gaze, then groans. “Again?”

Kenny snaps up to look at him. “What, you’re just finding mistletoe all over the place?”

“Actually, yeah,” Adam says, looking a bit frazzled. “Like, this is the third one in the venue. It’s getting weird.”

Kenny laughs, but it’s too high pitched to be normal. “Weird. I didn’t put them up.”

Adam studies his face. “Why would you say that unless you’re the one who hung them?”

“I didn’t!” Kenny says. “Dude, I swear. I have nothing to do with the mistletoe.”

Adam’s fighting a smile, Kenny can tell. It’s one of the best looks for Adam. “You swear?”

“I swear,” Kenny says automatically.

Adam sighs. “Well, I’ve done the other two. Come here.”

“What?”

“Kissed somebody,” Adam explains, “with the mistletoe. It’s a tradition.”

“I know the tradition,” Kenny says. “I just – I’m surprised you’re – with me.” He swallows.

Adam’s smile turns kind. “It’s just a kiss, Kenny. If you don’t want to, we don’t.”

Kenny thinks about it for a minute. It’s a horrible decision. They’ve been through too much, hurt each other in too many ways, been away for too much time. This could be enough to shatter them both again.

He steps into Adam’s space, leaning in where Adam does, and their lips meet. It feels like warm honey in a cup of tea at home, like a heavy blanket on a snowy night when you know you’ll get a snow day the next morning. Kenny leans into it, resting a hand on Adam’s arm, drinking in the moment. If this is the last moment he shares with this man, a moment he never imagined possible, he wants it to echo.

They pull apart, and Kenny watches as Adam’s eyes flutter open.

“Okay,” Adam says, quiet. “Um. I’ll – I’ll be. Um.” He smiles, and it tattoos itself into Kenny’s soul, just like the rest of Adam.

“Yeah,” Kenny says. He hope his smile echoes his thoughts. “I gotta get to Matt and Nick. EVP shit, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam says. He reaches out to Kenny’s hand, though, and squeezes. “Talk later?”

Kenny feels the weight of the world float away. “Of course.”

When he gets back to Matt and Nick, Matt’s sitting there with a timer on his phone. Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds.

“Okay,” Kenny says, “I can explain.”

“You see Wheeler?” Willow asks, hopping up to sit next to Ruby. “He got absolutely flattened by Rush. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s Blackpool,” Ruby says, waving the concern away. “He’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Willow says. She bounces her legs against the edge of the table. “So, this tag match. Got any ideas?”

“Kill them,” Ruby deadpans. Willow waits. “Okay, like, don’t give me that look. I’m thinking submissions – just make them cry about it.”

“That feels mean.”

“Sweetheart, you beat people up for a living,” Ruby says, purple-painted lips in a mildly condescending smile, “mean is literally your job.”

Willow huffs. “I’m not mean!” she argues. “I’m – firm! Decisive! I tell stories.”

“Through hitting people.”

“Okay, yeah, fine. By hitting people.” She bumps Ruby. “I am a little excited about punching Anna and Tay. They could use a good fist to the face.”

“Okay, see, while I like the tenacity, if you closed fist them, we get disqualified. And that’s the opposite of the goal.”

“Fair,” Willow concedes. “Elbows?”

Ruby grins, patting her own elbow. “All of ‘em.”

They plan out the match together, tag methods Willow’s never thought of before, moves Ruby’s sure she can pull off that Willow was always hesitant about.

Ruby says something, and Willow laughs so hard she falls backward. When she opens her eyes, she sees something on the ceiling. “Hey,” she says, forcing the words through giggles. “What’s that?”

Ruby looks up. “I think – oh.” She grins down at Willow. “Mistletoe.”

Willow shrugs. “I mean. Why not?”

Ruby leans down and kisses her, soft and sweet and quick. She pulls away, smiling. “You’ve got my lipstick all over your face.”

Willow grins back at her. “Tag team shit?”

“Tag team shit.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just a kiss on the cheek!” Kenny says, grabbing at Nick’s arm. “EVP cheek smooches.” He pouts. “You used to do cheek smooches for Adam Cole.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nick says, but he makes the mistake of smiling. Kenny smells blood in the water, and Matt jumps in.

“Nick,” Matt says, “it’s a tradition. It’s either kiss him on the cheek or on the lips.”

Nick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. Okay, fine. Get over here. I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Matt retorts, and Nick kind of wants to strangle him.

He and Matt kiss Kenny on the cheek underneath the mistletoe, and Brandon films it for BTE, with Kenny giving a rambling diatribe about how he’s going to find the person who posted all the mistletoe and destroy them.

“Okay, well, that’s a little much,” Matt laughs. “We’re not going to destroy anybody.”

“I might destroy you,” Nick mutters. “God, I just wanna go home. When’s our flight?”

“Not until later, baby brother,” Matt says, and he gives Nick the worst noogie since high school.

“Get off me!”

“Today was fun,” Matt says, throwing an arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Where’d you get the idea for mistletoe?”

Nick pauses, and Matt half stumbles over himself. “What?”

“The mistletoe,” Matt repeats. “That was you, right? Putting it all over the arena.”

Nick shakes his head slowly. “No. I thought it was you.”

They turn to Kenny in tandem. “Was it you?” Matt asks.

“No, I thought it was Matt, actually.” He stares Matt down, and Nick joins in.

“I didn’t do it!” Matt insists. “Why would I ask you about the idea if it was me?!”

“Because that’s how you would bring it up,” Nick says. “It’s annoying. You’re annoying. That’s how you’d bring it up.”

“You’re more annoying,” Matt grumbles.

“You two are missing the point,” Kenny interrupts. “If it wasn’t one of us putting the mistletoe everywhere, who the hell was it?”

Max giggles and jumps like a toddler. “This was so good!” he laughs, spinning in his seat.

“Shh!” Anthony says, yanking his arm to sit down. “They still don’t know who it was. Do you want to ruin it?”

Max gets himself under control. “Did you have any idea Mox and Eddie were, like, together?”

“Um, duh,” Anthony says. “Jesus, for somebody this gay, you sure are oblivious.”

“You’re gay,” Max retorts.

“Yeah,” Anthony says. “Focus. We now have blackmail on the entire company. What do you want to do with it?”

Max goes quiet for a minute, stewing. “Actually, you know what I want to do?”

“What?”

He grins at Anthony. “I want to go flirt with MJF.”

Anthony collapses backward onto the floor, groaning like somebody just hit him. “Stop flirting with the devil. He’s never going to love you back.”

“It could be a Christmas miracle!” Max says, leaping to his feet. “We could It’s A Wonderful Life this shit.”

“You did not understand the themes of that movie,” Anthony grumbles, but he follows Max anyway, and that’s enough of a Christmas gift for him.

He looks up. “Anthony,” he singsongs, “look what I found hanging from the ceiling!”

Max does not get kissed under the mistletoe. He gets tackled.

#wheeler x danny #HangMatt #HangMox #EddieMox #Kenny x Hangman #God damnit there are SO MANY SHIPS IN THIS HOW DO I TAG IT #in which Sara writes #aew #wtf i like wrestling now???#This is so much fluffy nonsense #And also like a smidge of angst for those who want heartbreak with their holiday ham #sarahcakes613

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marshmallowprotection · 1 year

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Kait!! First thought the first time you ever heard Unknown's creepy 'I wiSh yoU a meRrY ChrIStmAs' call???

Replayed it today and I forgot how frickin' chilling (yet hilarious??) it was

Don't tell him I thought he sounded funny -

My first thought? Well, Anon, by that point I was already knee-deep in trying to learn everything possible about Unknown. His torments weren't frightening to me. I was hooked on wanting to understand all the bits and pieces that make his brain tic. Why would I be bothered by his ranting and raving over Christmas? He wants you to be scared and bothered by his antics! Why be bothered when I want to get the chance to see why he's like that?

So, I'm sitting there listening to Unknown's phone call after I've already answered two of his three text messages to unlock the ending for him. I don't know what he's going to do. Then, out of nowhere, he starts belting out a holiday song.

I don't even know what to do with myself at that point but sit there and see what he says to me. He mocks the holiday and laughs about what's to come, and I'm like, "Yeah, this holiday is commercialized to shit and back. If you don't have money and good fortune at birth, you feel like you're a bad child when your family cannot afford a gift you're dreaming of. It's not about goodwill toward people since the zeitgeist is capitalism." So, I'm agreeing with him and laughing, enjoying this lil' snippet of Unknown.

But, yes, his laughter is chilling and humorous to listen to. His little chuckles make me giddy. But, I assume to most he sounds like a total weirdo given the fact that you can hear a very faint Mickey Mouse in there.

#ask #anon #mod kait

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a-dorky-american · 1 year

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Any Christmas Headcannons for you and the rest of the wives and your husbands?

One of these days... One of these FRICKIN DAYS I'll train myself to be on top of asks lol 🎄🎄🎄

@piscesgirl2020 and Canada like to go out and surprise us with Timmies in the morning. They'll bring us a whole assortment of coffee and donuts for us to enjoy.

@koolkat9 is in charge of passing out the gifts while England tells people to be delicate with the wrapping paper so we can "use it for next Christmas" like the old man he is.

Romano and @elithegnome are in charge of Christmas dinner. They usually bring over Italy to help with the feast (being the Italians they are... It's a lot of food they're making in that kitchen). Eli is usually tired after the whole ordeal.

America and I usually pick out the Christmas movies we watch. These range from A Muppet Christmas Carol to Die Hard (our personal favorite).

@newhetaliafan and Norway are usually done with the rest of us by dusk, so they just retreat into their own room to spend Christmas together there and watch movies.

Remember how America and I light saber fight our way to the top bunk? Well, Christmas is the one night we don't try to overpower the other for the high ground because we share the high ground that Christmas night. I think the others are grateful for it. :D

Aaaaaaaaaaand that's about all I got! Mutuals, feel free to weigh in on this at your own time! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all!

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natura-est-sacellum · 1 year

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For some reason, this time of year always draws me to God more than any season. Maybe it's all the Christmas songs, particularly the religious ones like Silent Night or God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (which is actually my very favorite non-secular Christmas song) bringing a bit of Christian imagery to the mundane. You're grocery shopping, eating pancakes at Perkins, getting your oil changed, doesn't matter, there's a Christmas song playing and something in the air shifts whenever a religious one comes on. I can't describe it.

Someone I follow posted some lyrics from different hymns and whatnot, but the first one was the opening verse from O Holy Night:

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

'Til He appeared, and the soul felt it's worth...

I have often thought about this verse, particularly the "soul felt its worth" bit, even in the deepest of my pagan days. Something about that sentiment carried an extra weight that could be felt by someone who had never read the Bible and hadn't gone to church or listened to a sermon since I was like 10.

So often, people bring up eternal damnation as a way to try to scare people into believing in God. But I can honestly say that simple lyric "long lay the world in sin and error pining, til He appeared, and the soul felt it's worth" did more to turn my heart back toward God than any fire and brimstone rhetoric.

Not that I ever hated God, don't be mistaken. I actually thought God hated me, or at the very least, strongly disapproved of my life choices. Being a dedicated pagan from about age 8, but with definite pagan ideals and concepts–such as ancestor veneration and reincarnation–incorporated into my belief system from my earliest contemplations on matters such as death, I thought I was an outcast...though I didn't know why I felt that way at the time.

Several years later, I had gone through so many books on paganism, desperate to quell this hollow feeling I had on a soul deep level, this longing to belong with no respite, only to come up not only empty-handed, but also angrier and angrier. I had hoped that some book–any book!–would give me further insight. But everything just became progressively dumber and dumber and more and more infuriatingly so. And every Christmas season, when angels are everywhere and bells are tolling and a choir can be heard inside and outside of every store singing "come and behold Him, born the king of angels", and people are unusually kind and charitable...there's something there. A filling to that hollow feeling.

Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't the Redemption of Bee, I'm not a prodigal daughter. Not entirely, anyway. But, after learning more about God and Jesus, and the full context of Jesus' time on the cross and what He did for us (going literally to Hell and back to save all of humanity from our sins is frickin metal, I don't care who you are), and reading Genesis and seeing exactly how much love God has for us, and how well-meaning and genuine He is (don't blame me, I kinda bought into some atheistic rhetoric about how cruel God is in my teens), the non-secular Christmas songs don't make me cringe anymore. Heck, Christian rock doesn't make me cringe anymore (Crowder's Crushing Snakes is a banger, change my mind).

But what used to make me ponder about Things when I was a pagan, the line "and the soul felt it's worth", now really struck a chord with me. To the point where contemplating the full scope of that simple little line inexplicably brings me to tears. On my journey, winding though it may be, I didn't listen to preachers or priests or anything like that. I mean, I tried to, and only really liked Father Mike Schmitz's approach to talking about things. But mostly, and feel free to judge me for this, I listened to a lot of Andrew Klavan and his musings about God and Jesus and the meaning of life and death and questions of morality. Say whatever you will about him, I found a lot of his takes very comforting, like talking to your father about God. Because I never really talked to my dad about God, except when I came out as pagan to him.

One thing Andrew Klavan talks about a lot in regards to Christianity, is that God is forgiving. God is loving. Yes, sometimes he can be cruel, but that's usually to teach a lesson that's falling on deaf ears, like your father taking away a toy as a child because you disobeyed him. But, one thing he especially highlights, is that God loves you. It doesn't matter if you hate Him, if you blame Him for every little bad thing in your life, He loves you and He forgives you. And should you ever find your way back to God, he will embrace you with open arms and say "welcome home". Even if you've sinned. Jesus ate with the sinners, and counted them more dearly than the Pharisees.

In some ways, my period of paganism felt like the period before Christ's birth. I waited for a very long time, in sin and error, pining for that feeling of belonging, of worth, of acceptance, of order, of gratitude. Of sheer unconditional love. And I waited and waited, until God and Christ kind of nudged their way into my psyche, and then into my life. And the soul felt it's worth. My existence wasn't meaningless, my life has a purpose, and no purpose is too small. I was hopeful, I rejoiced, a new and glorious morn broke. I didn't hate myself anymore, and realized God never hated me. How can I go forward not completely revitalized by that notion? That concept that even when all seems lost and hopeless, there is always hope.

“Turn your face from the green world, and look where all seems barren and cold!” said Gandalf. Then Aragorn turned, and there was a stony slope behind him running down from the skirts of the snow; and as he looked he was aware that alone there in the waste a growing thing stood. And he climbed to it, and saw that out of the very edge of the snow there sprang a sapling tree no more than three foot high. Already it had put forth young leaves long and shapely, dark above and silver beneath, and upon its slender crown it bore one small cluster of flowers whose white petals shone like the sunlit snow.

#Sorry this was long #And probably stupid and someone will get offended or think I'm being pretentious #That wasn't my intent #I just had a lot of thoughts about that lyric from O Holy Night that I had rattling around my head for some time #That I felt I needed to share

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