#microwaving him microwaving him microwaving him

[ceilidho]

you'd been struggling a few weeks before his return. your limbs gelt heavier, your brain filled with cotton and smoke, everything felt duller. he noticed, looking over the card expenses before heading home, the amount of take-out, then a few grocery store runs, probably trying to hide it.

you heard the door unlock and cursed silently at the frozen meal in your hands, the dishes were still manageable, at least, maybe there was still a chance to hide the evidence-

"Hello, love~" came his rumbling voice from behind you as two strong arms wrapped around your waist.

"John!" you squeaked out

"How's about we order in tonight, I think it would be better than....that" he points at the, frankly, sad meal you were about to put in the microwave.

Dinner was quiet, filled with occasional questions on the past few months, answers on both sides remaining vague.

"Have you been keeping up with your tasks, doll?" he finally asks, feigning ignorance to how your hair looks dull, how you've been scratching at your scalp more, the tiredness under your eyes.

Your don't meet his eyes.

He hums over the carrot cake you requested. The flat was maintained, those tasks were followed religiously, but it seemed you fell behind on taking care of the most important thing. You.

"Up you get," he finally orders, startling you.

"It's okay, Jo- Sir," you correct, seeing his face. "You should rest, I'll clean up and-" his hand on your shoulder cuts you off as you're guided to the bathroom.

"Strip."

You obey, hearing the finality of his tone.

He takes his time scrubbing away at your body, lets you do the same to him, enjoying the quiet reverence in your eyes.

Skincare is an equally gentle affair, though he doesn't let you shave him this time, you have to earn it.

He holds your jaw with one big hand, a callused thumb prying your lips apart as he holds your toothbrush. You always struggled to brush your teeth consistently, you tried to at least floss, but you knew that wasn't enough for the man you agreed to have a 24-hour dynamic with. Your mouth opened obediently, you winced a bit as the bristles rubbed over your teeth and gums.

"It wouldn't be so uncomfortable if you did it yourself, doll" he gently chided, his head on top of yours, looking into your anxious eyes through the reflection.

Your responding whimper earning you a rumbling coo of sympathy.

"Spit," he growled. "See? It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"No, Sir"

"Good girl."

idk what this is...i saw your post and then this happened i haven't written anything in months so im not posting anything to my blogs okay bye

THAT'S WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!!!!!!!!

[bovineblogger]

thought you'd appreciate this microwavable friend :)

you uhave to put him in the mikerwave

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I'm so invested in gas station au fr it's a powerful concept. Do Bruce's parents still die. What's the deal with Dick becoming nightwing is that him leaving the gas station to work for the 7/11 three blocks over and then coming back to manage the gas station whenever Bruce has one of his little emergencies. What about Cass how did Bruce hire her and was she still raised to be an assassin by her horrible dad. Is Tim the one employee who just keeps getting promoted less bc he's good at his job and more bc he's the only one who consistently shows up to shifts

his parents are extremely dead, they were probably killed in a gas station robbery gone very wrong

Dick becoming Nightwing is just him trying to assert boundaries and get a job elsewhere but he'll still come crawling back to cover a shift whenever Bruce asks

David Cain is maybe like a deranged survivalist who raised Cass isolated in a cabin in the woods. Bruce took her in after she ran away and lets her sleep in the "break room" (closet that can fit 1 cot a microwave and a mop) because she can't really read but she can throw hands like crazy and keeps the customers in line. he pays her under the table

Tim is just a hypercompetent 14 year old cashier whose girlfriend Steph is always showing up asking for a job and getting shut down by Bruce

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed nodded, and added several microwave bags of popcorn to the stash. "The flavorings aren't something I'd considered, but I suppose that makes sense," Ed admitted. "As far as the auto injector..."

Besides Eve and Yori, the thought of talking anyone through that process made Ed want to crawl under a rock, partially because he still hated talking about his allergies, partially because hospital visits were always miserable for reasons beyond the one why he was visiting, and then there was the whole... trust issue of having someone stab him with a needle. Not that he was afraid of needles. He'd administered injections on himself in the past with no problem, and he was fine with getting vaccinations. He just... couldn't.

"It, ah, it's a work in progress," he admitted.

"I'm sure Beck can come up with some sort of convincing cover up, but still. Better not to have to, if it can be avoided."

Ed huffed, stifled a laugh. It wasn't... bitter laughter, though it wasn't quite amusement, either. "Idiot beta, sounds about right," he said.

"As far as Peter... it's likely that may have been one of his programs? As I understand it, he was one of Encom's programmers, before he became Dillinger's assistant."

He stiffened at the contact, but it did manage to pull him back to the present. He turned from the cooler, back to the fridge. "I--I know. And... thank you. I know.... you're still recovering, and had probably hoped the peace would last a bit longer, but. I do appreciate you being here."

At least, Ed had hoped the peace would last longer. At least a few more months. If anyone deserved the time to recover in peace, if not to live out the rest of their runtime without any further disturbance, it was Tron. He hated that he was the one to disrupt it.

Ed retrieved his epinephrine auto injector. Thanks to Yori, he hadn't needed it in years, but he wasn't fool enough to leave home without it. He of course had another one in the small fridge under his desk, but he wouldn't have access to his office, but that was meant to be a backup, and it was better to stay in the habit of carrying one with him everywhere, anyway.

He retrieved the holster from the drawer next to the refrigerator, slipped the auto injector into it, and then clipped it to his belt.

"Anyway... anything you want, snacks for later?"

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.5

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

you lean against his doorframe, his eyes already on you, as you say, “you’re gonna make me say it first aren’t you?”

“yeah i am.” rafe throws his phone to the side, bouncing off the bed slightly. he doesn’t care, he’s walking towards you. there’s no subtlety in his gaze, he’s drinking in the way you look in his clothes and you almost shiver at the unabashed staring. he lightly pushes the door shut, not that you even notice, your feet move towards him without much thought, his pull is hard to ignore much longer.

“fine, i like you rafe and not as a friend.” you’re nearly chest to chest when you say it, a grin is splitting your face and he doesn’t even know if he can stop smiling in your presence.

“fucking finally.” you hear it half a second before you’re tugged into him fully and his lips are on yours. there’s no doubt in your mind that rafe is the best kisser in the world and rafe thinks he might just die happy at the feeling of your soft lips against his. there’s a small large part of you that thinks he might just be made for you. even the way his tongue tentatively glides over your bottom lip is mind-shattering. you’re moving without much thought because if you think about it too much you might just melt into a puddle. there’s no fireworks like in the movies instead there’s an innate sense that this was almost what was going to happen. you were both fated for this. rafe can’t believe you taste so good, that you’re so pliant and sweet in his hold, even the cute little sounds you make, it’s a million times better than his imagination and those expectations were already through the roof. his heart is beating out of his chest, so rapidly he thinks he should just give it up to you. you pull back to breathe, a small whine of disappointment crawling up his throat, and his hands cup your face, gently framing your cheeks as you look up at him. there’s a salacious string of saliva connecting your lips before it snaps off, rafe mourns it a little. you decide rafe looks the best after he’s kissed you, flushed and breathing heavy with a smile on his swollen lips. your hands find the back of his neck, pulling him back down, this time he’ll let himself taste you properly.

you take your time figuring each other out, kissing until you need to catch your breath and eventually cuddling on his bed. you’re laying quite literally on top of him with your head propped up on his chest so you can take a good look at him. you both abandoned your perception of time until you both got hungry. begrudgingly he tears his eyes away from you and checks the time on his phone, it’s nearly 3pm.

when you both leave you’re unfortunately face to face with sarah in the kitchen who takes one look at your matching swollen lips. and then how his clothes are hanging off you and very astutely says “finally.” she pats rafe on the back in a silent congratulations. all you can do is laugh while rafe rolls his eyes.

“how long did sarah know?” rafe blushes and ignores your gaze, pointedly opening the fridge to look for food

“forever kinda.” he murmurs it and you don’t know if it’s possible but your cheeks might be sore from smiling tomorrow. he grabs the leftover chinese food from yesterday, popping it in the microwave for you both.

“forever?” he hears the excitement in your voice and he knows there’s no point in hiding it now. you felt the same or at least a little bit the same. as much as he recognizes how special kitchens have become for you two, he’d rather not have this particular conversation there. so he ignores you until you’re both back in his room and eating.

“seeing you back made me realize i still hadn’t gotten over you, i hated myself for it, and i knew you didn’t feel the same which only made me angrier. i was the idiot who couldn’t move on.” you blink away his self flagellation, he really had to stop doing that.

“you didn’t know anything then and you still don’t.” you kiss him again. rafe hums at the feeling, warmth spreading this whole body from the small press of your lips to his. you want to tell him everything but your emotions are all over the place, you need to figure them out yourself before you start talking.

“why’d we waste so much time?” rafe pulls you close after you’ve finished eating, you settle against him your back pressed against his chest. in his own way he’s confirming that you’ve felt the same for forever. you have.

“hmm i don’t know i kinda think if it wasn’t now it might not have worked. it would’ve been a disaster in middle school.” there’s no way you would have survived the distance and that fact may have ended your friendship.

“yeah fuck you’re right about that.” he presses a kiss to your head, the smell of your passion fruit shampoo makes him feel giddy. you’ve turned him into a sap in the span of hours. he dreads the moment you’ll have to leave his arms even if it’s hours away, even if it’s just to sleep.

“did you recognize me when you came back?” rafe asked, he’d seen you over the years, sarah showing him pictures that he desperately tried to forget. you kept getting more and more beautiful and he wasn’t there. you turned in his hold, his grip around your waist loosening as you faced him.

“of course, i’d know your face with my eyes closed.” a small finger traced the lines of his eyebrows, his lashes, the curve of his nose. you thought each piece of him was beautiful you felt so grateful for every line, every freckle, every single inch of his face. of him. rafe’s eyes fluttered closed at the gentle brush of your fingers, no one had ever touched him like this.

“i don’t know i thought maybe the hair-“ his voice came out hoarse, the lump in his throat from your adoring gaze was hard to ignore. his eyes met yours, your favorite part of him. your smile widened even more.

“i mean i never thought you’d look so hot with a buzzcut but yeah i knew it was you.” rafe groaned at your words, still adjusting to the way you could render him speechless with a few words. had you always been so flirty? he didn’t care as long as he was the only one on the receiving end. you giggled at his reaction, pleased that you could get him flustered. there was such a pretty pink flush to the tips of his ears.

“you didn’t seem phased.” rafe supposed you were too preoccupied with how mean he was to you then, you had barely reacted to his presence beyond the initial shock.

“im very skilled at talking to you rafe cameron, even now.” he loved how you said his name, the way there’s so much affection even in how you tease him. he wants this day to last forever.

“yeah you are, you’re the only one who knows me,” his arms tighten around you, as if he’s subconsciously trying to keep you closer. you’d never leave him again.

“that’s a shame, you know, you’re my favorite person in the world, other people should see how great you are.” he feels almost lightheaded from you words, you’d echoed the sentiment before. favorite person in the world. that would stick with him. he wouldn’t want for any other title in his entire life.

“they’d never believe you.” he prods your cheek with his finger.

“i managed to convince you, didn't i?”

“a little,” you’re wearing matching smiles, dopey and blissful.

“maybe it’s a good thing though… if more pretty blondes catch on i might just have to keep you to myself.” rafe decides he should make you jealous more often. that might be one of his favorite sides of you.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.” it’s like he knows the perfect set of words to fluster you.

“how come no guys approach me though?” there’s a fake pout to your lips and rafe rolls his eyes.

“do you really have to ask?” there’s a glint of something dark in his eyes, you feel silly for even wondering. since you’d been friends again it had gotten even worse, topper even hesitated to hug you.

“oh right! well your scary guard dog thing doesn’t work at school.” he huffs a laugh at how you phrase his almost unhealthy protectiveness before catching onto your last few words.

“you really shouldn’t have told me that baby.” his hand slides up and down the length of your thigh, resting on your hip and pulling you closer. your skin’s so soft and his fingers probe the plush of your thighs, unbelieving that he can do this freely. he’d only dreamt of it before. there’s a trail of heat when he touches, it’s a miracle you don’t shudder against him.

“oh fuck” you realize far too late the consequences of your words, but his don’t scare you as much as they should. “that’s okay though, i’ve been rejecting everyone since i came. now when i tell them i have a boyfriend it won’t be a lie!”

“boyfriend huh? i don’t remember asking,” your gaze snaps to his and narrows. there’s no malice to his words. he’s smirking down at you like he can’t help but tease you.

“oh please we’ve been practically married since diapers.”

“i wish that were true. boyfriend seems a little too simple for this.” rafe thinks that being married would be too simple for what you two had. there had to be another word for it.

“yeah you’re right, we’re far past that.” soulmates. no, that wasn’t right either, he didn’t like the notion that some other unknown thing brought you two together. he’d fight anything even if it was the universe to be by your side again and again.

“what’s your ring size?” husband and wife will have to do for now. he holds up your hand to compare it to his, it’s far smaller and his ring looks like it would be too big for even your thumb.

“rafe we’re too young! let me graduate first.” you swat his hand away, flustered by how quickly he’s gone past boyfriend, not that you’re really opposed. you know you should be, it should be too soon even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“did you just say yes?” he presses a kiss to your cheek, nudging you with his nose.

“no i said-“

“i’m taking it as a yes” you groan and squirm in his hold, suddenly feeling to hot in your future fiancée’s arms. he lets you go and you move forward to sit on your knees next to him, facing him fully. rafe’s staring at you like you put the sun in the sky, head lolled to the side lazily, with his gaze dripping with affection.

“okay whatever floats your boat bro.” you grumble like a middle schooler, you’re still hot but you think it’s just because rafe is looking at you like that.

“‘bro’, you’re fucking in for it now.” he scoffs at you before pulling you back into him by the hips and tickling you until you apologize

a/n: i don’t think i’ll ever be satisfied with this chapter (i’ve rewritten it twice) but that’s okay i guess T^T next chapter will be a lot longer they have a lot to talk through and a lot of catching up ;)) to do

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk @pluviophilis @emmiesummers

[sacredfixation]

[Headcanon] Loki refuses to call things by thier proper names, and It drives Mobius Insane

Loki knows what things are called. He just deliberately refuses to say them correctly.

Jet skis? “Your primitive sea chariots.”

TV remotes? “The feeble sorcerer’s wand.”

Microwaves? “A box of searing radiation.”

Seatbelts? “Shackles of oppression.”

Mobius corrects him every single time.

Mobius: Loki, just call it a jet ski.

Loki: I did.

Mobius: No, you didn’t.

Mobius has aged ten years from this alone.

[4zahara]

02 | Let's Stay Home

←Previous. Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: +4k

A/N: English is not my first language. Please be patient with the grammar. I really tried to finish this chapter earlier. I had it written halfway but things happened and it arrived a week early! I think... my sense of time has left me and this ship.

His sister was weird.

Jason had no idea what, exactly, to pinpoint—other than her general demeanor made him reach the conclusion. It wasn’t just your eyes, which always seemed to search for a face on his head, or hair which looked like it had survived electrocution. Maybe it was your personality.

Whatever had been bothering him seemed to settle the longer he sat on the floor, however, processing his new situation.

He wasn't comfortable. He shifted onto the couch when (Name) returned with towels—actually clean ones. Jason placed a folded one on the cushions under him and sat down again, another draped over his shoulders to warm him up—you looked genuinely worried about him getting sick and needing a hospital visit neither of you could afford—the third was involuntarily forced over his head for good measure. He might as well cross "Halloween costume" off his to-do list. He'd be Casper the Friendly Ghost this year.

Although, he wiped the metallic taste of either blood or hunger with the back of his sleeve to speak again, a yawn won its way out. Swallowing saliva could only do so much for him the longer the night got.

"I have—" a voice called from the kitchen, about five feet from where he sat. "Pizza? There are some leftovers too, but I doubt you'll want that."

Jason's drifting attention focus for once and he perked up immediately.

"You have pizza?" he asked—not exactly excited.

Unlike most kids, Jason didn’t get excited at the mere thought of bread with things on top. Even if beloved for many the dish had long since lost its appeal to him. When had a large pizza not been cheaper than a bag of vegetables around here? Too much of anything was unhealthy—not that he really thought about that. He had eaten enough in a single week to make him want to avoid cheese altogether. Eating healthy was expensive. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

"What are the leftovers?" he asked, forcing a strained smile through gritted teeth.

"I'll heat it up for you. It's just rice, chicken, corn—basically a salad."

Jason quickly stood on shaky legs, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of you. Obviously there was lack of trust. Maybe—and just maybe—you reminded him too much of Catherine too.

Weirdly enough, the thought eased his sore chest. Something about seeing you, Jason didn’t want to think too hard about.

He missed his mom.

You looked like her.

Without another word from you, he trailed into the kitchen, dismissing the ache spreading everywhere.

"So... you came because of Mom? What happened?" You hesitated. "Did she and Dad got into another fight? Is that why he's arrested?"

A complicated look crossed his eyes just as he forced the noncommittal response.

"No, it wasn't like that. Willis went away for something else... Mom is—she's not taking it well and... needs you," he leaned against the counter, facing away but still watching you.

Ever since hearing you describe Catherine as unfit to be left alone—even if she not alone with Willis anymore but by herself—Jason’s worry skyrocketed. He kept telling himself she’d be fine without him for one night...

Now keeping his jaw clenched at the thought.

Willis could shove a rusty pipe up his ass.

As the stove flickered to life, heating up the so-called "salad", it was safe to say, a microwave-sized box was too big to hide and too heavy to run with, when you had none.

His sister glanced at him briefly then back to the stove—an action you repeated often. It was obvious you had questions enough for Jason to notice.

Even admitting it would be wishful thinking; to assume it was for his sake you were keeping all of them in.

His gaze flickered around the room to nothing in particular, as if wasn't even made aware of how restless his mind had become—grasping for anything to distract him.

Old bruises and burns on his skin layered with the fresh ones from getting mugged, started to ache. Random memories surfaced, each more unwelcome than the last. And then, the worst thought of all—what else was happening back home?

Dad was gone. But when he realized Jason had up and left, he would’ve been furious.

He’d probably have taken it out on Catherine.

Jason took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. He looked at the ceiling, at the stains there, forcing himself to focus. Trying to calm down.

Everything around him seemed to halt—until you placed a plate in front of him. Only then did Jason snap back to himself.

It took him a moment to pull out of his thoughts, and when he did, his eyes widened slightly. He stared down at the plate—rice, chicken, and whatever else you'd thrown in.

You didn’t have anything for yourself, but he caught you eyeing the pizza slices in the fridge.

“…Thanks,” he muttered before shoving a bite into his mouth. It wasn’t poisoned. And, surprisingly, it was good. Then again, maybe that was just the hunger talking.

It took him barely thirty seconds to finish half the plate. He wanted more—needed more—but forced himself to slow down. His body wouldn’t handle too much too soon.

You watched for a moment.

You handed him a glass of water.

Jason glanced at it, then back at you, silently studying your expression, trying to figure you out.

You were… kind. You’d taken him in, given him food—at the very least, you pitied him.

God knows why.

No.

Jason knew why. He knew exactly what he looked like. But he figured you had no business judging him, considering your own appearance.

Not that he was one to judge, either.

He reached out and gently grabbed the glass, taking a sip and letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. He would’ve thanked her, but he didn’t.

“What’s with the name on that mug?”

He asked, glancing beside her at a Christmas-themed cup with a name that definitely wasn’t yours.

"Ah. Dunno... I guess it’s the lady who’s supposed to be living here?"

"Someone lives with you?"

"If someone taller than you asks, then yes. Auntie—" She squinted, holding up the mug to read the name. "Gloria... Huh."

Yup. Definitely weird.

Jason knew it wasn’t true the second the name passed her lips because Catherine never mentioned a sister or an aunt. But Willis? That was a different story…

Jason blinked on edge again.

“Auntie Gloria?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to think of how to face a possible adult. The idea of an older relative living with you and him not noticing until now was confusing enough on its own, but the name was unfamiliar.

“Wait… she’s related to us?” Carefully adding himself to the mix, but for the sake of his mental health, he indulged for the first of many times to come in not asking about it again when you looked even slightly conflicted.

Ignorance was a blessing and you were underage, so it'll make sense you'll lie to adults about an imaginary aunt.

Jason couldn't risk slipping. You'd be everything he'd had to rely on when he manages to convince you to come with him back home to help with mom.

No doubt that he'll drag you home if he had to.

He had no choice.

He needed your help with Mom and he hated it. Hated how the air felt heavier the longer he stood there. Hated that his sister had chosen *this* place over home.

But mostly, he hated the gnawing fear in his chest—the one that had only grown stronger ever since he walked through that door.

"You need to come back," he said, voice tighter than he meant it to be. He’d practiced what he was going to say on the way here, but now it was all unraveling like the blocks he walked talking to himself under the rain meant nothing. "Mom’s sick, and I—I can’t do this alone, (Name)."

It was a rare admission for him.

You took a seat in front of him and his half eaten plate. Cross-legged under the table but changing your posture as if never truly settled. Probably why you didn’t look up right away. The dim light made your already hard to read face, harder than it was, casting sharp angles where softness used to be.

You exhaled through your nose. "Jason—"

"Please," he cut in, wanting to stand up, heart hammering against his ribs made his legs disobey. "I need you. She needs you."

Something flickered across your face then, quick and uncertain that made you chew on your bottom lip and your fingers tangle absentmindedly, and for a second—a brief, agonizing second—Jason thought you might refuse outright.

He readied himself and picked a counter argument of which he had a lot.

Instead, you sighed.

"Tomorrow," you said. "It’s dark. And it’s raining."

His breath caught. "So… you’ll come back?"

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then you nodded. "Tomorrow."

Relief crashed into him like a wave, but it didn’t settle right. There was something about the way you said it—vague, distant, reluctant.

Telling him what he wanted to hear. Just to soothe him.

Jason swallowed hard, pushing that thought down. Tomorrow. You said tomorrow. He'll only calm down once you are at home, but this was enough for now.

Even if something about the way you sat in that dit felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it was getting worse—pounding against the windows, turning the city outside into a smear of dim streetlights and endless shadows.

Jason had refused the bed you so kindly offered him in favor of dozing off curled up awkwardly in the couch, exhaustion pulling him under despite the unease still crawling under his skin.

You sat by the window, knees drawn to your chest, eyes distant, not going to bed yourself because you'll feel guilty for sleeping comfortably while your baby brother struggled to sleep on the couch with a humid towel as a blanket.

And just maybe he thought you were weird for that.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until his voice—low from disuse but child-like pitched—broke through it.

"Is it bad to miss someone you can’t even remember?"

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, you turned your head.

The words settled deep into your bones, curling around old wounds, reopening stitches sewed with dental floss you have been holding shut with both hands around the stretch marks simulating fingers.

It was not the time for an analogy but your unaware grip tightened slightly against the fabric of your sleeves.

"I missed you," words pushed through softly.

The rain kept falling.

No memory could fill the gap—it had been too long ago, and he had been too young. All he could do was piece together imagined scenarios, trying to soothe himself, only to shudder at the thought of them.

Maybe wanting a real family had been too much to ask for.

A home without a deadbeat dad. A mother who wasn’t drowning in addiction. A sister who never would have left him—never would have left him like you did. And maybe even a family dog.

But that wasn’t the life he got.

And you? You failed.

A bad sister to Jason. A bad daughter to Catherine. You left them with your father, and that truth weighed on you like an unshakable burden. The one absolute you carried on your shoulders.

You felt cold as the monster of your own making clawed at your ribcage from the inside, desperate to break free.

But the real problem—the one you couldn’t afford to face—was how much you missed home.

You couldn't do that to yourself. You couldn't want what you ran from.

Because nothing was more dangerous than the illusion of a family that never really existed.

Jason paused at your words, glancing up.

Normally, your carefree nature would have prompted some teasing remark about staring. But now, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unbroken.

Something he had to say without letting himself stutter.

"You missed… me?"

Almost wanting to brush it off as an empty platitude, something said out of obligation. But deep down, in the twisting knot of his gut, Jason knew you meant every single word. The weight of it had been steeping in years of regret and unspoken sorrow.

And then there was the very idea of you missing him—which was both baffling and, to his surprise, oddly comforting.

"A little weird, out of the blue. I know," you admitted, backpedaling. "I just don’t get why you hardly remember me… I wasn’t gone that long."

Yet weird was putting it lightly.

Jason swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully under the weight of emotions he couldn’t fully name.

He wanted to remember. God, he wanted to remember you—everything about you. Whatever moments you’d shared, whatever time you'd had together before it all went to hell. He reached for those memories, clawed for them, but nothing surfaced. Nothing real.

His breath wavered as he forced himself to stay steady.

"I… I wish I did. Dammit." His voice was quiet, edged with frustration.

"It 's okay. I'll remember. It’s not enough, but it’s what we get."

Jason nodded slightly, but something about that statement stuck with him.

He couldn’t remember you. And he probably never would.

Other people got their warm family moments, their second chances. But not them.

He took another shaky breath, fighting the lump in his throat, while you turned away, staring blankly out the window.

"It sucks," he murmured, avoiding your gaze. There were no portraits on the walls, just a scattering of trinkets everywhere.

"Like Dad used to say—‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’"

Jason scoffed. Of course that was something Dad would say.

"Don’t do that, though..."

He looked up, meeting your tired expression as you side-eyed him.

“Don’t die…?” he echoed, lacing his words with sarcasm. “Yeah, okay… I’ll get right on that.”

"Good boy." You offered a thumbs-up.

Jason snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

Still… he appreciated it. Keeping himself alive had been hard, but something about the praise made his chest feel a little warmer. Not that he was about to acknowledge it.

"You talk like some old lady," he teased.

"You eat like a dog."

Jason gasped, feigning offense. "I do not eat like a dog," he argued, his voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. "I eat like a growing boy who’s going through puberty and also hadn’t eaten in days and was basically starving, thank you very much."

"What puberty could you possibly be going through? You're eight."

Jason huffed, rolling his eyes before responding, utterly insulted. "I’m turning eleven next month. Which means I’m almost twelve. And then thirteen."

He sounded genuinely offended.

"And I’ve already started growing," he added, even though it was painfully obvious he hadn’t—still a four-foot ball of snark.

"Oh? Growing roots or…?"

Jason groaned, pouting in annoyance. He clearly hated the teasing.

"I've grown, I’ll have you know," he insisted, trying his best to sound confident. "I can cook now and—and I found my way here alone, too."

"I can tell you did," you said, watching him carefully. "Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like."

It was subtle. A small probe, a quiet way of fishing for details.

Maybe Catherine had known you were here.

The smirk faltered—but Jason covered it with a scoff. Mouth opened to ask how you ended up here. But then he hesitated, remembering the promise you’d made him make earlier. He didn’t want to risk breaking it.

Still, it tugged at him.

He thought about asking anyway. But it could hurt.

“…Why here, anyway?” His voice held a tinge of curiosity. “Do you really live here alone?”

"You met the neighbor," you replied, lips curling into a squinting little smile.

Glasses. That had to be it. You probably needed glasses—that’s why your eyes looked so weird.

Focusing on that theory was a hundred times better than thinking about the kind of people who might live here. The kind that had you so scared before.

Because he’d already decided—he was going to believe you weren’t scary.

His gaze flickered around the abandoned building again. Yeah… still not convinced.

It was subtle, but Jason had a habit of checking his surroundings. Always. And you noticed.

“How bad is your vision?” he asked bluntly.

"My vision?" You raised an eyebrow. "I can see you just fine."

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking. "I’m not saying you’re completely blind. I’m asking if you need glasses."

He didn’t add that the squinting seemed suspicious. Instead, he flashed you an innocent smile before adding,

“You look like an owl when you do that, you know that, right?”

"Do what?"

You tilted your head slightly, just like a bird—clearly on purpose, just to mess with him.

Jason couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"That." He motioned toward your head. "Stop that."

He wasn’t really annoyed, though. He was amused.

Something about the way you focused on him, how you responded to everything he said, how you kept looking at him—not just hearing him but listening…

It made his chest feel warm.

Jason shifted, reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. Exhaustion clung to him, but something about the quiet moment pulled him up.

With a sluggish motion, he pushed himself upright, the towels draped over his shoulders slipping slightly. Instinctively he grabbed onto them, pulling as they were his armor against the lingering cold. The one on his head slid forward though, nearly covering his eyes, and he huffed. There had to be a reason why he tugged it back into place before letting out a quiet sigh when he could have just thrown them around.

Bare feet padding softly against the floor, made his way to your side. Towels rustling with every step. The warmth they held was fading, but he kept them wrapped around him anyway.

By the window, he didn’t say anything at first—just gave a little jump to sit on the counter with you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, staring out at whatever had your attention.

Jason reached out, one hand wrapping around your arm while the other cupped your cheek, gently but firmly keeping your head still.

His eyes narrowed studying you—staring at you—his expression unreadable.

“Do you need glasses or something?” he asked bluntly.

"What?"

"You keep closing one eye like that. You look like an owl." He repeated.

"An owl? Like... hoot hoot?"

Jason scoffed at your lame attempt at an owl impression.

“Owls don’t even make that sound,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm—but the amused smirk tugging at his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

"I tried," you defended with a small shrug. "I’ve never seen an owl in my life."

"Me neither. But I know they don't sound like that,"

With a sigh, Jason finally let go of your face and arm, but not before tapping the top of your head in some vague, brotherly gesture.

“Now answer me. Glasses—yes or no?”

"Probably?" You popped the *p* before hesitating, still smiling but uncertain.

"I can see…" Your eyes narrowed, focusing like it required actual effort. Finally, with newfound, almost forced optimism, you pointed.

"The couch," you declared with newfound optimism from somewhere.

Jason didn’t even bother holding back his expression—half unimpressed, half entertained.

You just couldn’t help it. Something about him was so amusing. If not a little annoying.

“You’re nearly blind, then,” Jason said, his eyes widening like he had just stumbled upon a groundbreaking discovery. Somehow, despite being as blunt as ever, he didn’t sound mean—just genuinely baffled.

“So, the door? You can barely see that behind me? And—and when you stared at me outside, it was because you couldn’t see me?"

“Yeaaaah, sure,” you drawled, dragging out the word. “That’s why I stared at you for so long…”

Jason didn’t catch the sarcasm. If anything, the idea only made him more fascinated, his eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

He turned his head away, trying (and failing) to hide the red creeping up his face behind a cough.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean to tell me that you were just standing there, squinting at me like that because you couldn’t even tell it was me at the door?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, not when he looked at you like that—like a kid uncovering some great mystery.

The truth was, you hadn’t recognized him at first. And then, when you did, you had hesitated for too many seconds, unwilling to acknowledge it.

So instead, you just stained your smile onto your face, squinted at him again, and shrugged.

“A bit.”

You’d rather let him think you were blind than admit to the real reason. And, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely a lie—your vision did blur every so often.

Jason let out a short laugh at your answer, shaking his head.

“A bit, you say? You straight up stared at me, and I thought you were just crazy or something.” He laughed again, but after a second, his expression shifted. His gaze flickered over the way your eyes kept narrowing and refocusing, and a small frown tugged at his lips.

“…You can’t see anything far away at all, can you?”

"Hey!”

Jason raised a brow, crossing his arms as he held up two fingers right in front of your face.

“You can see what… how many fingers am I holding up, then?”

Deciding to humor him, you rolled your eyes before deliberately answering wrong.

“Four.”

“Ha! Nope, wrong.” Jason waved the two fingers closer to your face, smirking as if he’d just won a game. “You really got that wrong? C’mon, try again.”

His grin was practically gleeful as he held up the same two fingers, waiting expectantly.

You squinted dramatically, leaning in like a grandma reading the fine print on a receipt.

“Oh! …Two!”

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is that an actual answer or a guess, you blind bat?”

Before you could answer, he held up four fingers this time, wiggling them teasingly.

“How about this number?”

“Okay, okay, enough eye testing for tonight,” you dismissed, waving a hand.

Jason snickered, finally lowering his hand, but the playful spark in his eyes remained.

“But I was just getting to the fun part.”

Then, as his laughter faded, he leaned in slightly. His smirk stayed, but his expression turned more serious.

“Seriously, though. You’re basically blind,” he said, shaking his head. “You gotta get glasses.”

You shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Maybe one day.”

And why wouldn't he catch the way your voice dipped slightly? Or how your fingers twitched against the counter? Obviously something about the way you said it—too casual.

Jason was young, not stupid.

Of course you didn’t have glasses. Of course, you couldn't just get them. Just like how dinner was either pizza or leftovers. Just like how there was no microwave.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“…You can’t get them, can you?” he asked, quieter this time.

You blinked at him, “I could if I wanted to.”

Jason stared.

You sighed, finally breaking on that front.

“No, I can’t.”

Surprising even if it shouldn't have been. And for some reason, it made his chest feel tight. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much—just one more thing neither of you could have. Jason nudged you lightly with his elbow, like he wasn’t about to say what he was about to say.

“…Guess I’ll just have to be your seeing-eye dog or something,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Oh, so now you admit you eat like a dog?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Okay, no! That’s not what I meant.”

But when your expression had softened—not in pity, but in something almost grateful, so did he.

And Jason decided right then that until you could afford glasses, he’d just have to be your extra pair of eyes.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Just learned that they make shark Warmies plushes (weighed and scented with lavender and made so you can stick them in the microwave to get them nice and warm) and I've never wanted to give anything to Ed Teach more. Tucking him in with one of those bad boys

[the-cannibal-canine]

i don't know anything about forsaken but I just know that this guy is kinda neat

mmmmm chance forsaken I'm putting him in a microwave

[pr3ttylittleslutt]

𝑻𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄!𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒕…

YN’s POV:

I arrive at Quen’s house 20 mins late, oh boy I hope they’re not waiting on me I close the door of my uber grabbing my phone from my bag informing her of my arrival. I walk up to the door and knock on it I shifted on my feet waiting to be let in, I hear the lock clicking and I’m met with Katie I give her a smile going in for a hug. “Hi katieeee I missed you” I enter the house and she close the door behind me “Hi baby I missed you more, they’re in the living room lets go” I nod walking in the house I can tell she added a few more decorations, Quenlin and I are friends we met through one of our mutual friends today she invited me over to help with a video she’s filming with Larray and the triplets. I help her out often with filming like an assistant but I don’t want her to pay me, just love helping a friend no need for the money. We entered the room to see Larray and Quen “hiii” I exclaimed announcing my presence both their eyes snap toward me ss I go up to give them both a hug “Hey girl how are you” she says back “im okay where are the triplets?” “They’re stuck in traffic right now I think there like ten minutes away” I nodded sitting down on the couch waiting for them

Ten minutes later…

Im laughing with Katie while we get the cameras settled when I hear someone opening the door followed by chatter I look back to see 3 guys and Quen walking towards me, they’re all attractive but one of them catches my eye.

“Okay so Yn this is Nick Matt and Chris, guys this is Yn” she points to them as she says their name I smile at them shaking their hands holding on a little bit longer with Chris, he looks into my eyes with his gorgeous bleu ones, feels like I’m in a trance until I hear Larri’s voice greeting them I go back to what I was doing trying to forget what just happened, Katie shoves my shoulder cocking her head towards Chris “I see you looking” she giggles I hit her shoulder playfully “Shut up” I chuckled.

They continued filming their video every once in a while Quen calling us into the room to help and everytime I catch Chris staring at me, feeling his gaze on me had me clenching my thighs, every time I passed by him he would find a way to touch me, bumping in to me brushing his hand against my bare waist or helping me fix my skirt. When they finally wrapped things up they hung out a little longer I sat on the kitchen counter waiting for my food to warm up in the microwave when he comes in “Yn that’s a pretty name” he says grabbing a glass from the cabinet I look up at him “Thank you” I smile at him “Your pretty got a boyfriend?” He ask me drinking his water looking straight into my eyes I chuckled nervously shaking my head “no I don’t but thank you” he hums “you Quen’s assistant?” He ask “Uh no were just friends im a college student” I answer looking him up and down, he catches me checking him and chuckles “oh yeah? How old are you? What’s your major?” “19 and uim a psych major” “damn so you like to play mind games” he walks over to the sink rinsing the glass I giggle at his statement going over to get my food out the microwave sitting at the island, I hear Nick calling for Chris saying that they’re going home he looks at me giving me tight lipped smile shoves his hand in the back pocket and slips me a small piece of paper “see ya around sweetheart” he says leaving the kitchen bidding his goodbyes to everyone I grab the paper to see his phone number, I smile to myself putting the paper in the back of my phone case.

AN: im sorry of the layout not realistic I don’t know the layout of Quen’s house.

Tags: @trevorsgodmother @tezzzzzzzz @weirdothatwritess @dykes4chris @chrepsi @chrissfavhoe @nateismybf @middlepartmatt

[eggcompany]

Old man Silco likes Rolos. They’re little treats for him. Which is great because Vander learned as a young man that any birthday, holiday, anniversary, or apology is righted with a thing of Rolos. Silco never tires of them, thinking they’re the perfect candy, and he never buys them for himself, to make them even more special.

Old man Vander likes twinkies. Specifically the banana ones but all twinkies are good. Silco hates them so he hides them in the top cupboards and down in the bar, sneaking away to eat a few at night before going back to bed.

Silco knows. He can smell it, taste it when they kiss, but he’s yet to find their hiding spots, mostly for lack of trying.

They both preach to eat well and healthy, saying that eating treats are good for your brain and cooking your own food is more affordable and more healthy. But those two, alone in their place, after a long day, a long week, a long half hours, tear into microwave packs of ramen with siracha and extra seasoning on top, finishing them off with cold beer, and waking up complaining, as old men do.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 9

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 8

Someone’s hammering.

Stop it.

Who was hammering?

It’s early. Fuck. Stop hammering.

Quit it! It’s early.

Was it?

Joel decided to open his eyes. Peek at what was going on. Why was it so bright? Did he leave the lights on?

Fuck… his head.

Who was hammering?

That’s weird. The clock on his wall said 9.30.

Was that right? Was it 9.30?

He sat up, trying to get his brain to stop moving in his head. Quit moving.

There was no more hammering. But there was. What the fuck was going on?

He crawled out of bed, slowly getting himself upright and made his way to the ensuite. He made the mistake of switching the light on in the bathroom, immediately retreating and switching it back off.

Fuck he’s old. Hangovers had never been worse.

The house was quiet when he ventured into the kitchen, still trying to keep his head as still as he could, lest his brain fell out.

“Finally! Good morning!”

“Shhh!!!” he hissed, his shushing vibrating its way into his wobbling brain. “Too loud. Too loud,” he croaked.

Ellie quietly snickered, going into his room, coming back out with sunglasses for her Dad, gently placing them on his nose. “You and Uncle Tommy had fun last night, huh?” she whispered, as she helped him sit on the stool behind the kitchen island. She shuffled about as he held his head in his own arms on the wooden surface, busying herself with the microwave, cringing a little, shushing it when it beeped. She placed a huge mug in front of him, the man immediately taking the mug and thankfully sipping the black liquid his daughter offered. His eyes closed, a silly smile appearing on his lips, and he took a deep breath of satisfaction.

“Sarah went and got you coffee from Lil this morning before work. She predicted you will need it, big time. Guess she was right!”

Joel smiled, thanking Ellie for the coffee, making a mental note to thank Sarah for her thoughtfulness. He took another sip, smiling at the thought that you had made this coffee for him. He should text you and thank you.

“Shit.”

“What?” Ellie asked, pouring the oatmeal she was heating up for him into a bowl, placing the now empty pot in the sink and turning the water on to soak it.

“Lily.”

Ellie smiled, turning to give him the bowl, taking a banana and a knife to add to it.

“What about her?” she asked, a sly smile on her face as she cut the banana for him, getting rid of the peel and opening the cupboard to get the honeypot.

“Did I… talk to her last night?”

Ellie’s head snapped towards him, an excited smile accompanying it. “Did you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“The fuck would I know, I didn’t call her. You did.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t know. Did you or did you not call her?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” he said, rather defensively.

Ellie closed the honey jar, pushing the bowl nearer to him and ran off, coming back with his phone in her hand. She shoved it in his face for some reason, causing him to retreat, almost falling off the stool.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting facial recognition, to unlock your phone.”

“Just do the slidey thing.”

Ellie looked confused, sliding the lock on the phone and voila, it unlocked. The teenager looked at her Dad, disbelieving.

“You don’t lock your phone with anything? No password? No thumbprints? Facial recognition?”

“No, should I?”

“Fuck yeah! What if someone steals the phone, your dick pics are gonna go viral man!”

Joel couldn’t speak. His what was gonna go viral now? He looked at his daughter, taking his sunglasses off, shocked that she would say such things. Ellie noticed.

“Oh, come on, I know men do that. Just in case someone tells them to whip them out and measure.”

“Ellie!” he exclaimed, shocked, and immediately regretted it when his head throbbed. She snickered, telling him to eat and producing two Tylenols as if she was some magician. “I don’t do that, okay? And how is it that you know men do this?”

She shrugged, “I go to school. People talk.”

Oh my God, he thought. How soon can he build a panic room and lock both his daughters in it and not let them out? Was that legal? It was, right? He’d still be a good Dad, right?

She checked his call log, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh yeah, you called her alright,” she said, shoving the much too bright screen on his face again. He shrunk back, putting the sunglasses back on.

Shit. What did he say to you?

“Oh, and you texted her,” she said, scrolling up, her eyes widening. “Did you say you want to kill her?”

What? No he didn’t! He grabbed the phone out of her hand and read the text himself. Oh no. No… No, no, no, no, no. Why? Why oh why did he text you when he was drunk? And he called you. Fuck! What did he say to you?

He gave Ellie his phone back, dropping his head on the counter, spooning his oatmeal into his mouth like that, sulking. How the fuck was he going to face you again?

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t remember what I said to her,” he mumbled, mouth full of oatmeal.

“So call her and find out!”

He lifted his head. “What if I was rude to her? What if I said something bad?”

“Well, you drank that coffee, and you’re still alive, so… it’s not poisoned. I’m sure you didn’t. If you did, you’d be dead.”

Good point. Good point. Okay. He’ll call you.

Fuck, what should he say?

“So…” Ellie tried, elbows on the counter, a smirk on her face, “Are we nervous to call her?”

“No…” he said, rather defensively. Too defensively.

“Uhuh…” she deadpanned, “Just like we’re not nervous about asking her to join us for dinner Friday, right?”

Oh! That was it!

“Hey, I asked her about that! I couldn’t text so I called and asked her.”

“And? What did she say?”

Joel thought for a while. Hard. What did you say?

His head hit the kitchen counter again. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

Ellie shook her head, patting him on his back, “Well, you think on that. And then let me know if you need to go over the script to ask her what happened on the call, kay?”

Joel took a deep breath, sulking at the prospect of embarrassing himself, yet again, over the phone with you.

Sarah came home to a very antsy father pacing the backyard, his phone in his hand, both hands gesturing as his lips moved, saying something she couldn’t decipher. The last time she saw him doing this was when she was maybe seven or eight? Just before the first DIY segment he did with Uncle Tommy on that morning show. He didn’t need to do this anymore with his lines. Looked at his scripts once and sort of said whatever came close these days – the directors had given up trying to get him to say exactly what they wanted him to say. So that couldn’t be it.

Ellie was sitting on the couch, watching him go through this obviously important process he simply must go through, a bag of chips in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s rehearsing what to say to Lil when he finds his balls to call her. He did last night, apparently, to ask her about the dinner Friday, but could not, for the life of him remember what he said to her.”

“Oh, yeah, Lil said he was gonna call her back to ask her again – she didn’t want to say yes while he was drunk. In case he didn’t mean to ask her, you know? I told her he was serious. Couldn’t promise her he will call today, he hasn’t had a hangover in years. She said she’ll come,” Sarah said, smiling uncontrollably at her Dad’s obvious nervousness.

“Oh, really? Should we tell him? Put him out of his misery?”

Sarah contemplated for a bit.

“Nah… let him sweat. This’ll be fun to watch.”

Ellie sat a little bit straighter, crossing her legs to watch more closely. Sarah went outside to join her Dad.

“Hey Dad,” she greeted, giving her old man a kiss and a hug.

“Hey BabyGirl. How was work?”

“It was alright. That talkative parrot was back. The owner refused to believe she could really imitate a dog’s bark. I almost suggested a shaman.”

Joel laughed, the parrot in question a regular since Sarah started her internship.

“I was gonna order dinner. What do you feel like having?” she asked her Dad, an innocent look on her face.

“Er… anything you feel like having. I don’t mind. I just have a quick phone call to make,” he said, raising the hand with his phone in it.

“Okay,” she said, turning around to walk inside. “Oh Dad? I’m supposed to remind you to call Lily, she said you called her last night?” She smiled coyly at her suddenly very flustered father, going inside before he could say anything else.

Joel rubbed his face for the hundredth time since he went out to his backyard that evening. Shit. You’re expecting his call. He really had to call now. You’d been waiting for his call.

His heart expanded slightly at the thought that you talked about him when he wasn’t around. That you were waiting for his call. He spent the entire day agonizing whether or not to call you. Would a text be better? But asking someone out, even if it’s not a date - no, it’s not a date, it’s a family thing… with more than just the two of you, so no, not a date – didn’t seem proper, for some reason.

Sarah and Ellie watched with gleeful smiles as their father straightened his posture, wiping his face and dusting some imaginary dust off his shoulder, lifting his phone up, looking at the screen, fixing his hair as he moved his head around a little, brushing his fingers on his moustache and scruff one final time, as if preparing to go on camera, before taking a visible, deep, deep breath and clicking on his screen, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Lily? Hi, it’s Joel. Miller. Joel Miller. Ellie and Sarah’s Dad?”

Silence. Joel couldn’t hear anything, save for his thundering heartbeats. He looked at his screen, “Hello? You still there?”

You laughed, and Joel swore his heart almost jumped out of his mouth. “Yes, Joel, I’m still here. Why are you introducing yourself to me like I’ve never met you?”

He shut his eyes, shame flooding his system.

“I have no idea. I don’t make this kind of calls a lot,” he said, chuckling slightly.

“And what kind of call would that be?”

He sat down, “The kind where I call to tell the other person I forgot what I said to her last night cause I was too out of it to remember?” he cringed, hoping you wouldn’t be offended.

You snorted, getting sponge cake all over your couch. “You, Mr Miller, is responsible for getting my couch cleaned now. I just sprayed sponge cake all over it.”

“Send me the bill!” he joked easily, a huge, relieved smile on his face. “Is that what you’re having for dinner? Sponge cake?”

“Uhuh,” you mumbled, trying to chew as fast as you could to answer him. “I’m so hungry but I’m too tired to cook, reheat or even wait for food to arrive. Luckily, I have this sponge cake my neighbour gave me last night.”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve sent something over,” he said, facepalming himself for blurting that out. Who the fuck was he to be sending you food? You’re gonna find him creepy now.

“Well, even if you did, I would’ve gotten full from sponge cake cause whatever you sent me would get here too late.”

Phew. You didn’t find him creepy. What the heck was going on? He talked to you all the time, why was he so nervous? You’re not even here, not even on video. Why the nerves?

“So all this horror of me eating sponge cake for dinner, what are you having for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, the girls are supposed to do the ordering,” he turned around just in time to see his girls clambering off the couch, Ellie with a huge packet of chips in her hands. “I just eat whatever they order.”

“You do take out a lot? And just to be clear, that’s what I do, can’t cook to save my life.”

He laughed, “I do cook sometimes, simple things. Paid enough attention in my Mama’s kitchen to survive. Had Sarah to cook for. And Tommy too, most of the time.”

“Ah… survival cooking huh?”

“Yep. Only a few poisonings recorded so far, so fingers crossed!” he said, a smile clear in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, swooning internally at this man’s humbleness.

“So how come you’re not cooking today?”

“Uh… Ellie felt like take out,” he quickly said, throwing the teenager under the bus. He couldn’t possibly tell you he spent the entire day trying to come up with the perfect things to say regarding the call he made last night that completely vacated his mind, so much so he forgot to cook. Thank God Ellie was home and ordered lunch.

“So, hangover gone?”

Joel groaned, covering his face with his hand, ashamed to be reminded of it. “Why do hangovers feel so much worse when you’re in your forties? I swear I was dead when I woke up this morning.”

You laughed, “Is my laughing giving you a headache? I’ll stop if it is…”

“No!” he countered, a little too quickly.

Please laugh some more. I need to hear you laugh to breathe.

“Okay.”

Phew.

“So, if you don’t mind reminding me, I know I called you to ask about Friday night. But for the life of me I can’t remember if you answered, or if I even asked you,” he tentatively asked, cringing at himself.

“You did ask me to join you guys for dinner. I didn’t answer, in case you were drunkenly asking? As in you didn’t mean to ask but did because you were drunk?”

“No, I really did mean to ask you. I swear.”

“You said you would get back to me today to prove you were serious.”

“Well, thank God I called you, then. Lily, will you join us for dinner Friday?”

“Are you sure I’m not intruding? Meeting Tommy’s new girlfriend, that sounds private.”

“You’re really not. Please?”

“Do I have to dress up? I mean, are we going somewhere with a dress code? Cause I don’t do that. I don’t… I’m not comfortable with that.”

“No, not at all. I mean, you can dress up if you feel like it, but you don’t have to, I promise.”

You were quiet for a beat.

Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…

“Okay.”

Joel didn’t realize it, but he shot up so quickly his back creaked. His limbs were involuntarily twitching, threatening to break into moves that were definitely out of character for him. He heard snickering from inside, turning around to see his girls running inside from Sarah’s balcony, the sliding door quickly shut behind them.

Thank God he had enough control to stop from breaking into a dance.

He composed himself, trying hard not to gush.

“Yeah? Okay! Uhm, I’ll pick you up 730?”

“I can Uber, you know.”

“No… let me pick you up, please?”

“Okay.”

No… no, no, no, no, no… Was there not an ounce of hair gel in this house? How was it that he didn’t own hair gel? Shit. He barged out of his room, grabbing his keys, wondering if there was enough time to stop at the store for hair gel. He hated himself at that moment. Why was he such a sloppy man? Would it kill him to have hair gel lying around? Thank God he had deodorant. And damn it, why didn’t he own any colognes? He rummaged through the pantry, looking through the toiletries stock for anything he could use in place of hair gel, cologne, but found nothing.

Sarah came running in, having just arrived home from work, a paper bag in her hands. She went straight for her Dad, just as Ellie came out of her room, still not dressed for the dinner.

“You guys aren’t ready? We’re gonna be late!” Joel panicked, looking at his watch.

“Uh, Joel, chill. It’s 6.20. Dinner’s not ‘til 8.”

Oh.

Sarah pulled a stool out, asking Joel to sit down. She rummaged in the paper bag and pulled out some sort of spray, spritzing some on her palms and running them through his hair, styling them as she did.

“This,” she said, face full of concentration as she ran her fingers in his hair, “Should keep the style, but not make your hair oily or sticky.”

She and Ellie then studied their father, perched nervously on the kitchen stool, head tilted to the side, a small smile on their faces. Joel felt like he was on display, nervously tugging on the dress shirt he had on. Ellie came over, folding the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows, taking a step back, looking impressed.

“You clean up really well, Dad,” Sarah said. Ellie nodded. Their faces were… something… unreadable to Joel. Sarah reached into the paper bag once more, taking out a glass bottle, lightly spritzing Joel’s pulse points before telling him he’s ready to go now.

“What about you two?”

“Sarah’s driving us. We need to stop at the store for something,” Ellie said.

“Plus, traffic from Lil’s to the restaurant is not bad, but the traffic to her place from here can be, so you should go now,” Sarah said, pulling him to stand.

Joel stood at the garage entrance for a bit, wondering if he should just wait for the girls.

“Go, Dad, it’s okay. We’ll meet you there.”

Okay, okay. Joel checked his pockets for his wallet, phone and keys, and opened the garage door. He turned to look at the two girls once more, just to be sure.

“Go!”  

Joel finally left, and the girls waited until he backed out of the garage to call their favourite BBQ place for take-out, sly, hopeful smiles on their faces.

Joel’s drive to your place was filled with anxiety. He knew this was not a date, but God was he nervous. Sure, he practically had lunch alone with you almost daily for weeks and had that lunch at the Thai place with you once, but this felt different. He didn’t even look at his usual t-shirts or flannels when getting dressed. He wanted to look good. Not just for you, obviously. Just good… in general.

He got to your place at 7.15, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, wondering if he should go up to get you, or call you to let you know he was there. He looked at the rearview mirror to check his hair, running his fingers through his scruff just in case, smelling his armpits to make sure he didn’t smell bad. He looked over to the passenger seat, frowning at the piece of paper he saw on the footwell, bending over to get it, a receipt from the take out last week. Shit, he didn’t wash his truck. He chanced a glance at the back seat, an array of folders and notebooks and blueprints and paper bags scattered all over. He jumped out of his truck, going to the back to clear everything out, just managing to hide everything in the bed of his truck when he heard you call his name.

Fuck. Him. Hard.

Joel felt lightheaded. You were smiling at him, walking over in a simple pair of dark jeans and a dark blue blouse, making him curse at himself for choosing this dark grey dress shirt instead of the dark blue one.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” you said, your dimply smile gracing your face, light make up on, your lips a darker shade than your usual blush, your hair free falling over your shoulders.

Joel found himself blubbering, finding the right words to say that would still get his point across without sounding like an idiot. But you reached him before he could, giving him a peck on his cheek as a hello.

It was as if all the vocabularies he had amassed since he was blessed with the ability to speak left his head, and all he could do was mumble something akin to ‘you look beautiful’ out, which he was convinced sounded more like a blurb.

He ran to his passenger side door, offering you his hand to help you get in, and cursed himself as he closed the door and ran to the other side. When he opened his door, the smell of your perfume flooded his senses, and he had to fight the urge to bury his nose in your neck to get a better whiff, as if he was not about to openly swoon at what he was already smelling.

“Last chance to back out, Miller, you sure you want me there?” you teased.

“Yes,” he finally managed to say clearly, “I’m sure. You look really nice, by the way.”

“You already said that,” you told him, gracing him with another smile, “Thank you. At least I don’t smell like coffee tonight.”

Joel had to bite his tongue from saying he liked it when you smelled like coffee. The way your hair smelled when you hugged him goodbye the other day, like coffee mixed with coconut milk, almost made him collapse from swooning.

“Nothing wrong with smelling like coffee,” he said, putting the truck into gear.

“Ahh, see, tell me that when you spend every single day in the truck with me for years, Miller. You’ll never want a cup of coffee again, I promise you that.”

Images of spending his retirement in the truck with you filled his head and wouldn’t leave.

“Lily, Joel, I’d like you to meet Maria,” Tommy beamed. You shook Maria’s hand, and she pulled you into a hug. Tommy leaned across his new girlfriend to kiss you on the cheek. The four of you sat down, Joel finally noticing that the table was for four, and not six.

“The girls called, Sarah’s car wouldn’t start, it’s just us four,” Tommy easily explained before Joel could even ask.

Joel took his phone out to call her, his protective fatherly instinct taking over, but Tommy pushed his hand away. “They’re at home, Joel, it’s not like they’re stuck somewhere. They’ll be fine. Let’s order, huh?”

The four of you chatted easily throughout dinner, Maria getting along with you famously. She worked at one of your father’s chains for a couple of months, she said, minding the till, but never got the chance to try making coffee – she was too new, and left for college soon after. You offered to teach her, if she was interested, just come by the truck, and she happily accepted, excited at a chance to try latte art.

Joel couldn’t stop watching his brother with Maria. He really did seem relaxed, happy, content. Heck, even the fact that he was introducing her to him was a big deal. He had never brought a lady home to meet anyone. And Maria, she seemed nice, very easy going, very friendly, and obviously very patient, if she could stand being in Tommy’s company this long, as short as that may be. But as much as he tried to focus on the main purpose of the dinner, to meet Tommy’s girlfriend, he found himself pulled back to you, how easily you got along with his brother, his girlfriend, how you tried and almost succeeded in teaching him how to use the chopsticks, how easily you included him in the conversations, how comfortable he was with you being there, despite this being a non-date.

He struggled a bit with one particularly slippery piece of sashimi, his efforts to get the piece of salmon between the bamboo sticks without drenching himself in shoyu showing, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He was about to give up and take the darned fish with his fingers when you reached over, clipped it effortlessly with your chopsticks, dipped it in shoyu and offered it to him, a wide smile on your face. He laughed at himself for his lack of dexterity, taking the salmon into his mouth, giggling a little as you mimed his mouth movements like one would when feeding a child.

Tommy watched with interest as his brother let his guard down, clearly enjoying this time with you. Maria leaned over, quietly asking him if he was sure the two of you were not together already? Tommy raised his eyebrows at her, and the two gave each other knowing smiles, not that you or Joel noticed, as you fed him another piece from your own plate, giggling like schoolgirls as he took the piece from your chopsticks, his face going a bit red as the wasabi hit his senses so hard he almost sneezed. You rubbed his back, asking him if he was okay, and he only laughed, nodding in response.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here, this is very merry,” Angela came sashaying to the table, her typical smile plastered on her face. “Angela Maddison, I’m their agent,” she introduced herself to you and Maria, offering the very tips of her fingers to the both of you, immediately retreating her hand once both of you took it, wiping her fingers at the back of your chair.

“Hey Angela,” Tommy mumbled, “Who are you here with?” he asked, taking a sip of his matcha tea, not at all looking interested in knowing the answer.

It was very odd. This woman was their agent, had been for 20 years, yet their faces snapped shut the moment she made herself known. That little fact was not lost on Maria either, it seemed, she was looking at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Oh, I’m just here with Antonio,” she cooed, turning slightly and waving her pointer finger at a handsome young man at what you assumed was her table. Tommy nodded disinterestedly. Joel glanced at the table, nodding at the young man, before helping himself to a piece of maki off your plate. There was an awkward silence for a beat, Angela still standing there as if expecting an invite to join you, her eyes eyeing Joel’s movements.

Joel made to take an unagi off your plate, and you stopped his chopsticks with yours, letting out an exaggerated gasp, playfully chastising him for trying to steal your favourite piece, the one you were saving for last. He picked it up anyway, dipping it into the shoyu, bringing it to your lips, an apologetic plea, complete with a playful pout on his face, morphing into a smile when you took it into your mouth.

“Well, I’ll see you guys around then, this looks like a fun date night!” Angela finally said, a beaming smile that made you want to cringe on her face. “It was nice to meet you both… erm…?” she said to you and Maria, before seemingly realizing that neither Joel nor Tommy actually introduced you two to her.

“See you around, Angela,” Tommy said with finality in his voice, turning to Joel to ask him something about some neighbour they had growing up, the conversation continuing well after Angela’s sourpuss and footsteps retreated from your table.

The four of you stood in front of the restaurant, chit chatting idly as you waited for the Miller men’s cars to be brought around. You and Maria exchanged numbers. She hugged you goodbye when Tommy’s car was brought around, giving Joel a peck on his cheek, Tommy doing the same to you, before leaving, Maria telling you she will text you about those coffee lessons. The two of you waved them goodbye as you waited for his truck.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Very full, but otherwise okay,” you replied. “If I fall asleep in your truck you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Hey, I tried to steal your sushi but you wouldn’t let me,” he teased, “But if you do fall asleep in my truck, I’d have no choice but to bring you home. I don’t have the heart to wake you if you do. You can sleep in the truck in my garage.”

“Such a gentleman!” you said, hand clutched at your chest, pretending to be touched.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, it’s got AC and everything!” he joked.

You laughed, hard, the man himself almost bending double laughing with you.

His truck was brought around, and he placed his hand on the small of your back to lead you to it.

“Is that your girlfriend, Joel? Has the elusive Joel Miller finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” a man’s voice asked. You turned to see a phone pointed at you, the flashlight shining in your face. His voice was so loud a group of young ladies walking by stopped in their tracks, their faces morphing into excitement when they saw Joel.

“Oh my God, Joel! We love you! Are you his girlfriend? You’re so lucky! Oh, she’s so pretty!” A chorus of cooing voices followed. You kept your head down, Joel wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close to him so the man’s camera couldn’t capture you, bringing you to his truck. He opened the door for you and helped you up, making sure you were all in before shutting the door behind you, tipping the valet, and getting in himself.

“You okay?” he asked, looking a bit alarmed.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just…”

Your door opened suddenly, the man had followed you, shoving the phone in your face again, loudly asking for your name, if you were Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You tried to pull the door closed again, but he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out. You fell to the sidewalk, the ladies screaming something or other in unison, yet separately. You pushed the man away, you could just make out the many phones aimed towards you as you tried to get up, the man grabbing your arm roughly again, asking you one more time for your name, and if you were his girlfriend. More hands landed on you, but whose, you didn’t know. The screams from the ladies and the small crowd gathering was lost to you but overwhelming you at the same time as you tried to get away from the man’s firm grasp on your arm, and the other hands on your person.

“Let her go! Get away from her!” you heard Joel yell out, the man pulled away from you so roughly he flew a few feet back onto his ass. The doorman at the restaurant and the valet person held the man, along with some passersby, as Joel lifted you into his arms and deposited you, surprisingly gently, back into his truck, shutting the door, telling you to lock it, before running towards his side of the truck and driving off, his right hand landing on your left one, squeezing it tight, asking you over and over if you were alright.

“Dave dear, be a doll and call my agent for me,” Cleo’s voice rang. Dave took a deep breath as he stilled his movements before carefully folding the silk camisole he had just finished ironing and placing it in the suitcase for the vacation they were going to take, which he now knew was never going to happen.

He padded out of the closet and found Cleo lying on her stomach on her bed, watching some story on Insta with interest.

“Isn’t this that bitch you dumped for me?” she asked him, a sly smirk on her face, showing him her phone. Dave looked at the screen. He watched in horror as some man opened the door to a truck that you were in and pulled you out, only to shove a phone in your face, as the person who took the video and the people around him yelled at the guy to leave you alone, some trying to pull you away from him. He was relieved when you managed to push him away, but his head froze as the guy grabbed you again, rougher this time, not letting you go, screaming at you, asking for your name and if you were dating ‘him’.

He watched as Joel Miller, the man he knew had history with the pap, pulled the man off you, sending him flying back, quickly taking you into his arms, protecting you with his own body, before lifting you back into his truck, yelling at you to lock the door, getting in himself and peeling away.

“Call my agent,” Cleo’s voice snapped him out of the chaos that was the video, the people around cursing at the guy for being physical with you.

“Why?” he asked, Cleo’s smirking face making him feel uncomfortable.

“Would you just do it? Sheesh!” she snapped.

Dave rolled his eyes, dialling the agent before giving her back her phone. “You had your phone in your hand, couldn’t you have just called him yourself?” he asked, knowing exactly why she wanted him to call the guy. She wanted him to know why she was calling. Cleo eyed him as she held the phone to her ear, her eyes shining with malice.

“Hey Tom? Savvant here,” she cooed into the phone. “Can we get in contact with Build with the Millers? I think I need a closet makeover.”

Part 10

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Dwyer is my son I love him. Corrin and Jakob may be bad parents but I feel like they could have a good relationship with Dwyer afterwards. Like Dwyer goes low contact with the two, they sort themselves out, apologize to him and eventually they all go to family therapy and actually enjoy being a family together. anyway Jakob spoiling Dwyer with lots of nice coffee blends and telling his son that he loves him at least twice a day. Corrin learning how to bake with Dwyer and it becoming their mother son bonding thing. Kana and Dwyer watching trash tv and mocking the characters whilst eating popcorn. Jakob making everyone's beds eventhough they're grown or teens (with their permission obviously - he doesn't want to cross any boundaries), and placing their stuffed animals (because Dwyer would have stuffed animals) in comfy looking positions at the bottom of the bed. Dwyer waking up early enough to make his mom, dad, and little brother meals for work/ school, and putting cute notes in like 'have a great day mom', or 'the k in kana stands for kind - don't listen to the mean kids', or 'your coffee is tolerable dad'

The Corrin, Jakob, Dwyer, Kana fam all living together (because buying more houses/ appartments separately in this economy?? nah) and learning how to do life together.

also every saturday morning everyone (including mr late sleeper Jakob) watches 'Microwavin with Mamornin'' together and laughs about the weird microwave foods

“both Jacob and Corrin are awful parents” factoid actualy just statistical error. average Corrin is wrong 0 times per year. Jakob Georg, who lives in the deepest pits of hell & is evil 10,000 times each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

[marvelous-bamf]

yknow the best part of matts iconic hallway fight in season 1? (besides throwing a microwave at a dude)

the hallway was empty. he probably couldve sneaked that boy out without anyone noticing. but no, they asked for an ass kicking when they kidnapped a kid, and by god matthew michael murdock was going to deliver. love that for him.

[valleyfthdolls]

can u give me some useless hello neighbor ravenwood trivia

Useless Welcome to Raven Brooks trivia:

The principal's name is Valeria, according to the I wanna say Polish version of season 2 episode 1's script.

There's one scene in episode 1 where they accidentally put Enzo's head base on Ivan's model so his forehead looks GIGANTIC.

Trinity has a framed stock photo of an oboe up in her bedroom

Despite Keith being the relevant cop in Hello Neighbor 2 (with Leslie all but totally cut from the final game), he doesn't appear in Welcome to Raven Brooks, and Leslie does instead.

In the pilot, the Esposito family (or at least, who people have assumed to be them) has a baby. ????

Despite Enzo and Maritza not having a mother due to her dying from cancer in the books, in the animated series, their mother is alive and well, and modeled after Maritza's design in the books.

According to the pilot, Nicky's goggles used to belong to Aaron before his disappearance. I like this detail and hope it's included in season 3.

In the games, Enzo is the one who carries and uses a camera. In the pilot, it's Maritza. In the full series, it's Finch. Why the camera gets thrown around so much is beyond me.

Apparently, in some scenes, you can see that weird guy and his weird hat in the background. I've never noticed this, I hate to admit.

Ivan canonically blew up his microwave during the month or so that Nicky was missing. We have no idea what anyone else did at any point during that time.

Theodore Peterson's animated series VA also plays him in Hello Neighbor 2.

Theodore Peterson's dead brother is not ever even alluded to in a single other piece of Hello Neighbor media. In fact, in contrast to that, in the books he has a living sister named Lisa.

In the games, Delroy and Finch are a part of the rescue squad that goes into the Peterson house to save Nicky. In the animated series, Delroy and Nicky kinda hate each other and Finch is just the worst.

The games and books taking place in 1996, Finch's girl scout cookies should've been selling for about $2.50. But for the animated series probably taking place in modern day, they're priced... roughly accurately.

[gffa]

crying at @the-starry-seas' tag they're rotating him in the microwave as we speak

Why do you think Anakin had to lose the memories of what he learned about his future on Mortis? Why would knowing that keep him from bringing balance to the Force? Obviously they had to do it that way to avoid contradicting the movies, but wouldn’t him knowing about Palpatine and killing him sooner rather than later prevent so much more suffering?

If we're talking about an in-universe reason that had to Anakin forget about it, I think it's because it would have only added to his fears, which is what made him fall in the first place. In ROTS, he knows he should choose otherwise, he knows Palpatine is a Sith Lord and has done so many evil things, he knows he's on a dangerous path, but when his fears rise up in him, he can't resist being pulled into them. He justifies what he's doing because it's the only way to stop his fears. If he knows that evil path is there as a feasible one, it will do nothing but haunt him until he makes another disastrous choice, because that's one of the things that Mortis showed--it wasn't just one time that Anakin failed to face himself and find his inner balance in the greater story of Star Wars, it was a recurring pattern with him. Mortis was one giant test from the Force (as the Force often does this kind of thing, it sends visions to test the younglings on Ilum, it sends visions to test Luke on Dagobah, it sends visions to test Ezra on Lothal, it sent Anakin to Mortis to test him, etc.), an attempt to nudge him into understanding himself. When Qui-Gon visits Anakin he says, "I believe you will bring balance to the Force, that you will face your demons and save the universe."

When the Father tests Anakin in the arena, he says, "It is time to face your guilt and know the truth."

Mortis is an arc that is Anakin's struggle to face himself played out via the Force Overlords, that the Daughter says the Son is feeding off Anakin, and I think that's what this is all about--they've drawn him to Mortis because they're his internal struggle manifesting via the Force, as he's the Chosen One. They're trying to get him to look inward and master his fears--or at least see if he can do it. But he has to forget this ever happened, because he never really does face himself there, he never resolves his guilt, and this would only add to the fears swirling around in his head. If he had the specter of Vader looming over him, knowing it was a very real possibility, he would have made an even worse deal with the devil to prevent it, just as he knows Sidious is a liar and evil, he knows that what he's doing is wrong, but he twists himself into knots justifying murdering children and helping turn the Republic into the Empire and joining the Sith. Anakin has to have his memories wiped of this event because otherwise he'd be forever haunted by it and Anakin does terrible things when he's haunted by a future he fears.