#but personally i think if i had to pick one timeline to be canon

[rosemirmir]

Just saw rider time ryuki with a friend. I did like it, but also I have so much I need to process before I have any thoughts I can actually put into words

Also it was wild to finally see the gay sex scene with context

#i think my biggest gripe with it was how tezuka was written because i cannot see him murdering and betraying people #there is the excuse of the fact his memories were wiped #also he had gay sex. good for him! #funnily enough the gay sex scene in this was the only thing I knew about ryuki for a while #even though I knew about it i still was losing it but my friend completely forgot it existed so he was losing it too #hagino looked good in this tho and I am always happy to see asakura being himself #goro-chan.... his arc in this stabbed me in the kidney #I enjoyed how he did a very kitaoka-like strategy with tricking asakura and waiting until he was weak enough to strike #kitaoka would be very proud #thats all Ive got for now. ive got much to think about with this one #apparently this is the canon continuation...? but the ending for the show is still my ending personally #a show like ryuki I feel lends itself to you picking what timeline and ending you like most #linky posts

[lincolndjarin]

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary. 

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark. 

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him. 

But you can’t.

So you don’t. 

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.    

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.  

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away. 

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle. 

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence. 

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from. 

Lose your leg or starve. 

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful. 

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge. 

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable. 

So there’s only one other option for you. 

You steal. 

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk. 

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching. 

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day. 

You need more. 

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea. 

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal. 

The only problem is your neighbors reputation. 

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time. 

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty. 

So you’d have to be careful. 

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area. 

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings. 

Lucky you. 

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process. 

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor. 

A revolver. 

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window? 

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear. 

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness. 

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way. 

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you. 

No one would look for you. 

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner. 

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all. 

He isn’t a terrible last sight. 

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.” 

Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you. 

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes. 

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed. 

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch. 

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit. 

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all. 

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all. 

Fuck. 

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh. 

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively. 

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?” 

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself. 

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?” 

A lot. 

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime. 

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. 

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you. 

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising. 

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.” 

You told him you’d think about it. 

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help. 

And just like that, it was your idea. 

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after. 

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did. 

But he wanted nothing of the sort. 

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning. 

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before. 

He must like having someone to take care of. 

That’s how you explain it to yourself. 

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you. 

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was. 

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that. 

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was. 

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already. 

He had acted unsure. 

You know now that it was acting. 

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him. 

It was your idea. 

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you. 

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come. 

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning. 

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment. 

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet. 

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his. 

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed. 

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them. 

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg. 

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing. 

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs. 

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend. 

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go. 

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that. 

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them. 

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing. 

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister. 

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other. 

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one. 

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down. 

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall. 

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it. 

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about. 

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules. 

You keep Jackson moving. 

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms. 

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises. 

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule. 

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans. 

“Maria gets to go on patrol.” 

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls. 

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two. 

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work. 

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son. 

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work. 

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing. 

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists. 

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.” 

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.” 

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated. 

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother. 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone. 

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs. 

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to. 

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.) 

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks. 

It’s all exactly how it should be. 

Until she frowns. 

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol. 

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow. 

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.” 

Odd. 

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent. 

It’s a look of pity. 

As if she feels bad for even asking. 

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind. 

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one. 

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed. 

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different. 

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy. 

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light. 

God, you're tired. 

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday. 

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment. 

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams. 

It works.

Your dreams never feature him. 

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays. 

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Tintin through time! 

Thought it would be fun to have my various designs for Tintin in one post. The canon comics have a floating timeline and Tintin never ages. I think rooting him in a specific time and context makes him feel a little more real (also I am a sucker for historical fiction). Click below for a potted timeline and notes about each design!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - in my timeline Tintin was born in 1915, a year into the First World War. He was probably picked on a lot by his peers for being small, ginger and slightly effeminate, and was picked on by adults for being “difficult” and asking too many questions.

Early canon - He leaves school early and becomes a reporter at 14. He’s unhinged, he’s blasé, he dresses like Spongebob. Coming right out of Catholic school he has a lot of unhealthy beliefs he needs to confront and unlearn. I imagine his editor is a pretty shady person as they are willing to send this kid off to dangerous places. His naivety prevents him from spotting any red flags at first.

Late canon - Tintin as we know him! His journalism career is at its peak at the tender age of 17. He’s found a family and stability at Marlinspike. His politics are evolving. He is, however, pretty neglectful of his own personal life, almost fully focusing on his career. He’s starting to grow wary of his editor and they frequently argue, Tintin often winning out as he knows it’s his articles that sell papers.

Young adult - With the Second World War breaking out this is an unstable time in his life. He’s come to terms with being gay but is fired from his paper after being forcibly outed. Tintin and the Marlinspike team take fighting fascism into their own hands. 

For his design here he wears a turtleneck like Captain Haddock, glasses like Professor Calculus (also representing a renewed perspective on things) and his hair is more relaxed like Chang’s! The idea was to show how he has been impacted by the people he cares about. 

After the war ends he struggles with unemployment and burnout, insecure that he might have peaked as a teenager.

Middle aged - It’s the late 50s - early 60s, Tintin is jaded and cynical but still kind and willing to help others. He is absolutely horrified by the events of WW2 and carries an enormous sense of guilt, feeling he didn’t do enough. His faith in journalism has also been thoroughly shaken, witnessing the spectacular failing of the system himself, and realising there are people who genuinely do not care for the truth, and are only concerned with power. 

Elderly - if he somehow makes it to old age he’d be a chaotic little old man who doesn’t give a Single Shit. It’s the late 80s and early 90s, at this point he has retired from journalism and has published his own books, and has taken to becoming a full time political activist (here he’s wearing an AIDS awareness ribbon from 1991, in the 70s Herge had Tintin wear a helmet displaying a symbol for nuclear disarmament). Kids adore him, cops hate him! 

He has taken to technology, being an early adopter of the Internet and desktop computers. He and Chang have since been able to reunite with Chang’s family and they often spend time with Didi’s grandkids!

I don’t know what would kill him. Old age? A car bomb? Maybe he falls over badly and bangs his head one last time. I don’t think it’s my place to decide.

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #might do this again for other characters! #professor calculus would be very interesting to research for #homophobia mention

[sie-rui]

❀ SISTER, SISTER (REWRITE) | TOKYO REVENGERS 🤍 sano family 💿  female reader, second pov (you/your), angst and fluff, hurt / comfort, family, platonic relationship, implied soulmates, tw: canonical character death, au - canon divergence, timeline: pre-canon (headcanon), timeline: pre-moebius (imagine), headcanon + imagine 📅 july 21, 2021 🎙️ i accidentally deleted this. i had to rewrite… if someone has the original copy, please i beg of you, SEND it to me. i don’t really care if you plagiarized it or something, just give me the copy i beg. I had a breakdown because of this. 🔗 masterlist ,, parts: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05

Sano Shinichiro’s best friend isn’t just his platonic soulmate, they’re also his younger sibling’s older sister.

☆ Sano Shinichiro has a lot of tight-knit relationships (4lifers, some may say), but there is one that everyone unanimously agreed was his closest one.

☆ It was a wonder to some how the two of you become such close companions. To some, after seeing Sano Shinichiro with you, they easily understood.

☆ Meeting in school as his underclassman, it didn’t take long for you to get roped into his gang’s bullshit. It wasn’t that you were an official member but you were definitely someone. Someone to Sano Shinichiro. Someone.

☆ Sano Shinichiro is batshit crazy, especially during his younger years. It just so happened that you were crazy as well.

☆ In high school, you guys were definitely uncontrollable. Whatever Shinichiro did, you tagged along.

☆ As you grew older, the both of you were definitely calmer, outgrowing that childish recklessness the both of you had always shared.

☆ It was love. Not romantically, but it was love. The kind of love that Shinichiro was sure that in some other universe, the two of you were together as well.

☆ When someone tried insinuating that the two of you could start dating each other, the response was instant.

“With this asshole?” “With this bitch?”

☆ Shinichiro wonders if the reason why he’s always getting rejected by girls is because you’re always with him. You scoffed.

“Trust me, it’s not me. They just don’t like you.” “I have a great personality!” “Well your face isn’t that great.”

☆ Once Shin introduced you to his family, it was all over.

☆ Mikey had no reaction to your presence in the house at the start, blatantly ignoring you, giving you dead-eyes. You coddled on him, to his chagrin.

☆ Emma, on the other hand, adored you. To the point that Shinichiro and Manjiro wondered if this was really their sister.

☆ You managed to bribe Mikey with sweets. Not that you needed to because when he saw you picking on Shinichiro, he loved you already.

☆ As much as they want you to be a part of the family officially, they begged you not to marry their brother.

“Honestly, you can do better, Y/n-nee.” “Yeah. Shinichiro isn’t worth it.” “I’m right here?!” “We know.”

☆ Shinichiro thinks that they love you more than they love him. He doesn’t quite mind.

☆ Keisuke is Manjiro’s… friend, if you can even call him that. Mikey beats him up for fun. (In his defense, Baji asks for it.)

☆ It was only when you saw Manjiro literally kick a guy twice his size on the face, knocking them out cold, did you realize that this kid could literally kill you.

“Is Manjiro safe?” “Why are you saying that as if he’s some dog?”

☆ You love the kid, either way.

☆ You’d defend him from whatever happens. But if it’s a fight, you’re dropping out. Fuck no. Mikey can fight for himself. (If anything, you’re the one getting beat up.)

“Y/n-nee, Shinichiro hit me!” “Shin, don’t hit him! That was too hard.” “Why are you taking his side?!” “He brought home snacks for me and you’ve been pissing me off lately.”

☆ It does weird you out how he laughs at horror movies when the four of you watch at home, though. Everyone is screaming. You don’t know if he’s laughing at the gory scene on the television or at everyone’s reaction.

☆ Movie nights with the Sano family start during the afternoon because everyone wants a chance to pick a movie. 

☆ Sometimes, you get suspicious of Shinichiro disappearing randomly. He doesn’t answer your calls, nor his siblings’. When he comes back and you ask him to explain, he just grins at you and ruffles your hair. Asshole.

“It’s a secret.”

☆ MALL DATES WITH THE SANO FAMILY !!!

☆ It was supposed to be shopping with Emma but three people were tagging along, acting as if it was a coincidence, because they wanted attention from you as well.

☆ It would be a bloodbath. Emma wants to go shopping, Shinichiro wants to go to the arcade, Mikey wants to go home, Keisuke wants to go to a pet shop. 

☆ You want to go to the movies. That’s impossible because you’d never get to pick the movie you want to watch.

☆ When you get home, everyone is knocked out tired. After a whole day of complaining and fighting, you didn’t expect anything else. (You were also half-dead on the couch after all.)

☆ You stay over so much at Sano's house that you’re basically a member of that household. Their grandfather doesn’t quite mind.

☆ Their grandfather appreciates your presence in the house. It seems as if it has been livelier with you around. He doesn’t mind the noise.

☆ He  doesn’t quite understand how you can stand his grandchildren. For one, his eldest, Sano Shinichiro is running around, creating a gang and picking fights and getting his ass handed to him. Manjiro started calling himself some name, is addicted to fights, and refuses to learn anything else because apparently he’s going to take over Tokyo or something. Emma is… Well, that child seems to hate everyone. Then, there’s also Mikey’s friend, Keisuke. He doesn’t even have to say anything about that kid.

☆ He finally understood when he saw you laughing as you watched Keisuke and Manjiro get chased by wild dogs.

“She’s just as insane as them.”

☆ He says all of that but he loves all four of his grandchildren.

☆ Sometimes, it felt like you lived in that house more than your own. Shinichiro’s room is yours. (He did not agree to this. You sleep on his bed anyway.)

☆ Emma loves playing with your hair and styling it. She complains that her brothers’ hairs are too short. (That’s part of the reason why Mikey grew his out.)

☆ She also learned cooking from you. Honestly, you don’t know how they survived this long. The only thing Shinichiro can cook is curry and it’s shit.

“Shinichiro’s cooking sucks.” “You brat! Try starving!” “Instead of eating your food? Gladly.”

☆ Shinichiro annoys you to teach him how to cook better as well. Emma told him to get out of her kitchen.

☆ Mikey has this habit of judging people. He will blackmail you even before he learns the word blackmail. Be careful.

☆ Emma also has a bit of judging people, specifically her brothers. More specifically, Shinichiro’s sense of style and Manjiro’s inability to eat anything that isn’t sweet. She says that’s why he’s so stupid, his brain is filled with sugar.

☆ You can tell that the kids love each other so much though. You just hope that they can show that… properly.

☆ Shinichiro loves taking videos of everything, he uses this camcorder that was gifted to him years ago, on his 7th birthday. He has a shelf of tapes in his room. Later down the row, your videos were in the Sano Family Collection.

☆ It’s always noisy at that house. But it’s expected as it is home to five people.

☆ It only became silent when Shinichiro died.

☆ Everything was different after Shinichiro died. 

☆ On the night he died, that was the one night you chose to laugh at him when he asked if you wanted to stay at the shop with him to help fix up Mikey’s birthday gift for tomorrow.

“Hey, Y/n! You better be there for Mikey’s birthday tomorrow.” “How could I not go to my favorite Sano’s birthday?” “I thought that I was your favorite Sano- Don’t laugh!” “Goodnight, Shin.”

☆ Manjiro called you an hour later; that was your last conversation with Shinichiro.

☆ Of course, it hurt you. How could it not? Almost ten years of your life was spent with him, from high school until adulthood. He was family. He was someone. He was Shinichiro.

☆ Sometimes, it felt like a part of you died with him that night.

☆ But you had to be strong. Mikey and Emma were lost, confused, and they were looking at you. How could you show them that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore?

☆ You put on a smile, hardened yourself, and took care of them. They were your kids as much as they were Shinichiro’s.

☆ You spend the nights crying.

☆ Emma refused to leave your side. She cried when you even tried stepping out of the house’s door.

☆ Mikey never left his room the days that followed Shinichiro’s death. He barely ate, the meals you left outside his door barely eaten. You had to beg him to go out of his room on the day of the funeral. He almost didn’t come.

“Mikey, please. Please. Go see your brother before he has to go. Please, Manjiro.”

☆ You cried outside his door that morning. Begging him.

☆ He came out, eyes red, lips pursed.

☆ The funeral was attended by family, friends, members, people whose lives were changed because of Shinichiro. You find that in funerals, you can see how good of a person the deceased is from the people that visit.

☆ You had no tears left to cry during the funeral, even when people came to pat your shoulder and tell you that he was a good person. You knew that. Shinichiro is a good person. They didn’t have to tell you.

☆ You caught a glance of a boy with light hair standing at the very back. You didn’t recognize him but something was pulling you to him. He left before you could approach him.

☆ The first night after Shinichiro was laid down on his final resting place, you found yourself on the couch in the living room.

☆ That night was the hardest you ever cried for Sano Shinichiro.

☆ The silence was unbearable. 

☆ It took so long to finally stop shedding tears over the dead. When you realized that you stopped crying for him, it made you break down even more.

☆ You couldn’t understand how Mikey and Emma manage to go about their day as if nothing was wrong. How they declined therapy, or seeing someone. 

☆ You never knew that it was because you were right there. They could act as if nothing was wrong because you were still there.

☆ Sometimes, you just want to run away and never look back. To forget about Shinichiro, about Mikey, Emma, their whole bloodline. It was heavy. It was so heavy. But you didn’t.

☆ That was love.

☆ But it was Mikey and Emma who insisted that you take the job offer overseas.

“We’ll be fine here, Y/n-nee.” “Yeah, we’re not babies. We can take care of ourselves just fine.” “Well, I can. Mikey can’t.” “Hey!”

☆ Your eyes were teary when you packed your bags and left, promising them that it would only be for a while, that you’d come back soon.

“They’re at their little meeting.”

You feel the breeze caress your skin, like an old friend greeting you home. Shibuya never changed in the years that you were gone. From their grandfather’s words, it seemed like the Sano siblings didn’t change as well. Seriously, why is the meeting still at night?

You just came back to Japan and the very first place that you went was, of course, home. The Sano Household. Only to find out that the two kids that you were planning to surprise weren't even there.

Their grandfather had welcomed you warmly like you were his own grandchild, telling you that as usual, they were out having a little meeting. You thanked him, leaving your bags, before finding yourself in the cold once more.

You were unofficially officially tasked to drag them home.

Mikey you can understand, but Emma? Why in the world is she hanging out with her brother? In her brother’s meeting? In her brother’s gang meeting? You wondered if starting or being in gangs was in the bloodline. It’s as if the Sano Siblings were destined to trouble, as if they’d get sick if they aren’t fighting something.

You adjust the plastic bag on your wrist. You bought some ingredients for dorayaki, planning on spending the night to make some with the siblings because you know that Manjiro wouldn’t be able to wait until tomorrow.

God, I love these kids too much.

The silence of the night was peaceful.

The silence of the night was broken by bellowing. 

“Who in the world is screaming in the dead of the night?”

You sighed, starting your trek up the steps of Musashi shrine. It wasn’t until midway did you finally start to recognize that voice. “Manjiro?” What the fuck.

Hurrying to the top, the shrine was crowded by rows of black uniforms, young teens in lines looking up at the shrine where the familiar strands of blond stood. You blink.

For a second, you saw Black Dragon. 

For a second, you saw Sano Shinichiro.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips, unheard in the midst of one Sano Manjiro’s yelling. Last you heard, there were barely 10 guys in the Tokyo Manji Gang. To think that that snotty brat who refused to eat anything that isn’t sweet is leading such a huge group, is succeeding in his once little dream.

Manjiro looked like Shinichiro, you realize, standing at the very back.

You shook yourself out of your stupor. No. You refuse to let yourself walk backwards, to let yourself see things that aren’t there, to remember moments long past.

Emma is standing off to the side with a cute girl beside her. At least she didn’t seem to be a part of the gang, wearing civilian clothes that you hoped was keeping her warm. You don’t want her getting sick. You march forward, ignoring the looks sent your way by the members as they try to stop you.

Without a pause, you start matching Manjiro’s screaming just as Emma starts, “Y/n-nee!-”

“Shut the hell up, Sano Manjiro!”

The silence of the night returns.

Wide obsidian eyes stare into your as you stand at the very front, at the bottom of the stairs where Mikey stood. “It is eleven in the fucking evening. Everyone is asleep. None of your members are talking. So tell me, why the fuck are you screaming?!”

There were murmurs behind you. He doesn’t seem to mind, a grin splitting his face, the cold mask he was wearing breaking as he jumps down, skipping steps. “Y/n-nee!”

“We’re going home!”

You step to the side, letting him land on the space where you once were, knowing that you were going to get tackled if you hadn’t dodge. Mikey is unnerved, simply turning around and jumping on you, arm hitting your throat.

Draken looked exasperated, knowing that the President wasn’t going to go back to whatever he was saying and it was up to him to adjourn for the night.

“You’re back!” He looks at the plastic bag. “ARE THOSE FOR DORAYAKI?!”

“Nuh-uh! Go back up there and finish your little club meeting.”

“But Ken-chin-”

“No!”

Mikey pouts as he gets pushed off of you. Ken gives you a thankful look as if you were an angel sent by the heavens to rein their spontaneous boss back. “Let’s go, Emma,” you call to the girl already hurrying over.

“Y/n-”

“No.”

You turn your back to Mikey, grabbing Emma’s hand as she looks at you with wide eyes, a growing smile on her lips. Seriously, screaming at 11 in the evening at a shrine where no one is talking? You worry for Mikey sometimes. 

“Keisuke, you’re invited as well,” you tell the boy in passing, glancing at the blond beside him. “Bring your pretty friend over as well.”

“Y/n-nee, when did you come back?”

You smile at her. “Just now.”

“And you headed straight here?”

Technically, no. You headed home. “Where else would I go if not to you and Mikey?”

It's just that your home is the Sano Family.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #sano family #sano shinichiro #sano manjiro #mikey #sano emma #emma #shinichiro #manjiro #tokrev imagines #tokrev headcanons #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers shinichiro #shinichiro sano #fluff #rewrite #sister sister

[tsukimefuku]

Let me die

I've been obsessed with a bit for a fic I want to write, so I just decided to put it here. Nanami fluff and some angst ahead, be careful.

Disclaimer: NO ONE DIES, it’s just a conversation in a bar where y/n requests something.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

You had just finished a mission that left a pretty bad taste in your mouth. You were forced to choose between two people to save, and one of them was your friend. Was.

The glare she had as she embraced her beloved's dead body made you sure that she would never forgive you for saving her instead of him. You chose to save her for egotistical reasons, you knew that. You knew (or thought you knew) that his death would not weigh on your shoulders as much hers would. However, you just didn't account in your egotistical equation how much his death would weigh on her, and how much more suffering you bestowed upon her by choosing to let him die in exchange for her life.

"Nanami, I need to drink." you said on the phone. "I had a horrible day. I'd like some company."

"We can meet at the bar by your house at 7PM." He promptly replied.

You and Nanami had grown close during the course of the last few months. He was assigned to you as your informal mentor until you were promoted from a grade 2 to a grade 1 sorcerer. There was some history before you went to work for Jujutsu High. Both of you met when he was on a mission that led to him eventually saving your life, and your gratitude eventually started to become something more. Sometimes, you wondered if he felt as close to you as you felt to him. These night drinks were turning into a regular thing, and you usually let your mouth say things you couldn't think to say out loud if it weren't for a few beers in, and Nanami being the person you were talking to.

***

After a while, when you spend so much time around somebody, you tend to pick up on their mannerisms, like their brows frowning, the way their mouths twitch when they feel mad, or how they are dead silent because they're drowning in unsaid things.

"What is it?" Nanami asked, out of the blue, surprising you. Both had already been drinking for a while, and you specifically were 4 beers down in misery. "I can hear your thinking from the other side of the table."

“I have a request for you.” You answered.

He took another sip of his drink, and said, unfazed, "What request?"

He inquired like he already knew you wanted to ask something from him, even before you knew you would.

"If you’re ever faced with a situation where you have to choose between saving my life or someone else, don’t choose me." you said. Nanami lifted his gaze to meet yours, and seemed surprised.

You continued. "Please, don’t make me live with the fact that me being alive is because someone died in my place and I had no choice over that. Don’t assign me that guilt.”

It would be something harsh to say to anybody, but you knew Nanami. You knew him well enough to be sure he'd not take that as an accusation of sorts. That's why you chose to tell him this kind of "if this ever happens" desire before telling anybody else. Shoko would probably chastise you for such a request, given you were prone to overthinking and martyrdom, and Gojo would never listen to that in the first place, simply doing whatever he felt like.

Nanami went silent for a while, mulling over what you asked him to do. Different from you, someone that had a little trouble controlling your emotions and how they impact your words and actions, Nanami was the man that you used to call in your head as nerves of steel. You had never seen him lose his composure. Ever.

He started talking, his face lightly flushed from alcohol. “There are two sides for this. You assume I’d be willing to live with the guilt of not saving you when I could have done so."

You were not expecting that answer. He was the most dutiful sorcerer you had ever met — hell, he was the most dutiful person you knew. If there was one thing Nanami was known for, it was not letting his emotions interfere with his judgement when making a decision. You never thought he could ever feel guilty if you died in a situation where you gave him permission to let you die.

"You'd feel guilty?" You questioned.

"Yes." He replied. "Your request would make me live with a guilt I don’t want, either."

"My request of letting me die, with my authorization, to save somebody else?" You inquired.

"Yes." He replied, looking down on his glass.

You were both silent for a moment.

"I can't accept your request, because you’re assigning me your guilt just as much." He took another sip from his now almost empty glass of whiskey. "I don't think I could bring myself to let you die, even if you asked me to.”

That pulled on your heart strings. Hard. You were instantly flooded with all the memories of the time you two spent together working, or simply chatting like this. All the times you had a silent but deep understanding of each other. Could he be...?

"I never pegged you for someone with any dose of egoism of not letting someone go when they'd rather die." You responded.

"Not letting you die." He answered. His answer made you fluster, ever so slightly, and you reclined yourself in your chair, trying to hide your face in the bar's dark ambiance.

“Would you ever curse me for that?” You asked. "Curse me for dying to save somebody else?"

“No, I wouldn't.” He replied. "That's who you are, and that is something about you that I respect, even if I don't understand it."

You chuckled softly, trying not to get too emotional. The alcohol was not helping. “Well, I might just have to curse you, then.” you responded, smiling.

“To curse me for saving you, you'd have to be alive.” He bottomed his drink. "I can live with that.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - epilogue

you know you never stood a chance series

epilogue: maybe light a candle

series masterlist | prev chapter 

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Joel hasn't come home yet. (this takes place about three years after the end of the main story.)

Warnings: established relationship, angst, christmas in the apocalypse, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, mentions of breastfeeding (not as a fetish), found family, poor communication, oral (f receiving), postpartum depression, possibly violating child labor laws by using a baby as a plot device, pls remember I am playing fast and loose with both canon and the timelines lol

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Christmas Eve.

Or, at least, according to the council. You’re not sure if anyone is really sure what the date is anymore.

But for all intents and purposes, maybe it’s Christmas Eve. The holiday is a thin, moth-bitten version of its former self, but you’ve never been the holly-jolly or the religious sort, so Christmas Lite suits you just fine.

Maria had invited you and Lulu to the mess hall for a big meal and activities for the kids. It was less of an invitation than an expectation, but you stayed home anyway.

And maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe she wanted you there for the same reason you didn’t want to be there. She’s fucking tough, maybe the strongest person you know, but she has to be feeling Tommy’s absence today, too. It isn’t Aléjandra’s first Christmas, but likely the first one she’ll remember, which is worse.

But it’s more than it just being Lulu’s first Christmas. It’s that Maria had made a point of telling you that Ellie would be there.

You prepare to watch her leave for the night. The light pours in the window when she opens the shed door, and you know she can see your shadow haunting the living room.

You want Ellie to meet her sister. You dream of it nearly every night. But there’s no way in hell you’re doing it without Joel. It’d break his heart. You like to think she knows, at least. Someone (probably Tommy) had to have told her.

So when she climbs the steps instead of walking past, you freeze. Her knuckles rap against the wood, and you close your eyes. You can’t. You need to, but you can’t.

“Maria asked me to remind you that you promised to come by tonight,” she calls through the door.

She knows you can hear her. She knows you choose not to respond (but she doesn’t know you bite your lip so hard to resist that it bleeds).

It would be wrong. But the ache is so strong you’re convinced it must be a physical wound.

She leaves.

“There goes Ellie,” you tell the baby, as you always do. “She’s got places to be, but she loves you very much.” The guilt of keeping them apart makes you nauseous.

Maybe it isn’t true yet, but you think it is. You think, despite everything, despite the anger she harbors for Joel (and a fragment of that for you), that she already loves her sister. Even if she’s only the shadow of a sister spied through dark windows and across the street.

You wonder if she knows her name. Tommy had started the whole “Lulu” thing, and though it had grown on you now, it made you suspect he hadn’t thought to mention she had a real, full name.

Luna Luann. Luna, for Ellie, and Luann for Joel’s favorite tía, the one who smuggled them chewing gum and taught Joel his strong right hook when the other kids were picking on Tommy.

You’d take this secret to the grave, but you hated the name Luann. But when he brought up the suggestion, he had talked about her for nearly twenty minutes, and so you love the woman despite her name, just for the way she brought a little more of Joel out.

You thought they’d be home by Christmas. You’re trying not to worry, but worrying’s one of the things you’re good at. It doesn’t help that you’re still struggling. You’ve been told it’s normal, but these last two weeks with Joel gone have been so hard.

She’s cutting a tooth (her very first), and you can barely catch a break. You sleep when she sleeps, but it’s never enough. A few neighbors have been bringing casseroles still, and it’s the only reason you’ve been eating.

So, you think it’s probably understandable that you crumble after you watch Ellie walk away and Luna starts to cry. The lights are out except for the single candle in the front window. You keep it lit all night in case Joel comes home. A beacon.

If you had a widow’s walk, you’d be haunting it. But you’re not a widow—couldn’t be, you’re not even a wife—and he’ll be fine. He’ll come back.

Joel always comes back.

It might be Christmas Eve, and you’re slumped against the wall of your living room, crying in tandem with your infant. There’s nothing wrong, you checked. It’s so much worse that she’s probably just picking up on your mood.

You orbit around each other that way. She is the sun that you and Joel revolve around, but his absence has sent you both off balance.

The sun might be the more accurate comparison, but you usually like to say Lulu, your Luna, was your moon, and Joel was the sun. He disagrees. He says he’s the rock, and you are her light.

It was profoundly beautiful, but none of the concepts held up to the reality. The truth was that you were a constellation, but without Ellie, you made no recognizable form. Sagitta with one feather, an arrow that can never fly true.

When you settle down to sniffles and the errant tear, Lulu has fallen asleep against your chest. You creep upstairs and lay her in the crib squeezed between the bed and the wall.

The room was plenty large, and part of it had been set up as a nursery. But after she was born, you spent each night on the floor next to the crib.

Joel hadn’t been having that. After the first week, he sat you down and asked if you’d be able to sleep in the bed if she was next to you.

And then he just… built a second, smaller crib. One that fits right up against your side of the mattress. It was low to the ground, so all you had to do was reach down, and you could feel her little chest rise and fall, or scoop her up to nurse her in the middle of the night. She’ll grow out of it fast, but by then, you hope you’ll feel secure enough to move her to the big one just across the room.

You had been embarrassed. Didn’t want anyone to know. After all, mothers had been putting their children to sleep in different rooms for ages. But you weren’t afraid to tell Joel, knew if there was anyone in this town that understood, it’d be him (and Maria).

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with keepin’ your baby close,” he said, as gruff and blunt as always.

When Joel comes home, he finds you that way. On your side, arm dangling into the crib with Lulu’s tiny fingers wrapped around your own. He sat down and gently tapped your shoulder, trying not to disturb the baby.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he whispers when you stir. You blink up at him through sore eyes, then smile softly, sending his heart skittering.

“You’re home,” you say, extracting your finger and sitting up to reach for him.

He wraps you in his arms, lets you burrow into the nest of his broad shoulders. “M’sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, chasing the words with a kiss.

“Tommy okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Just hit some delays on the way home. Bridge was out. I thought y’all were going to the party?”

You don’t answer right away. You know he’ll feel bad. That he does feel bad, that the guilt eats a little part of him each day. All he wants is his girls all together.

“I was,” you mumble, feeling the tears prick with a vengeance. “But Maria said… Maria said that Ellie would be there.”

Joel’s arms squeeze you a little tighter for a moment. “Y’know I don’t want to get in the way of you talkin’ to her.”

“I know. But after last time… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, anyway.”

“She’ll come around,” Joel says.

It reignites a new round of self-hatred, that he’s sitting here consoling you. After all, she had spoken to you after their fight. Sat down and told you she wasn’t mad at you, that she knew he probably didn’t even tell you.

And he hadn’t told you, hadn’t clued you in, trying in his foolhardy way to spare you the burden of the lie. And you were mad at him for it; you’d had your own spat after.

But you weren’t mad he did it. Not one bit.

He can tell you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that’s fine by him.

“You miss me, baby?” he murmurs, a teasing brush of his lips over your neck.

You roll your eyes. “Oh no, did you have to go two weeks without gettin’ laid?”

He chuckles, dark and raspy, as he reaches to cup your ass and squeeze, smirking when you gasp.

“And you’re tellin’ me those little fingers were enough for your greedy cunt? Like ya ain’t droolin’ for my cock right now?”

You whimper. He’s right. Two weeks is too fucking long for either of you.

He tugs you properly into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, before he just stands up and carries you into the guest room across the hall. It’s not ideal, but if you leave both doors open, you’ll be able to hear Luna if she wakes.

“How’ve you not thrown your back out?” you grumble as he manhandles you.

He tosses you onto the bed, already peeling off his clothes and pointedly ignoring you.

He’s halfway through tugging his jeans down when he stops and looks at you. “What’re you doing? Let me see ya, sweetheart.”

You’ve long gotten over how easy you are for him. You only hadn’t stripped yet because you wanted to work him up. “You can see me just fine. Or do you need your glasses, old man?”

He takes the bait, shaking his head, before looming over you and running his hands down the sides of his old shirt you use for a nightgown. He barely grazes your breasts, just brushing the tips of your hardened nipples and grinning when you whine.

“Up,” he orders, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

You lift enough for him to pull it off and flop back down. It’s your turn to smirk as he watches the way your tits bounce with deep hunger.

And then he fucking rips the along the side of your panties and pulls them off, throwing them to the floor.

“Hey!”

“Shut up, you can sew ‘em back.”

“I’ve already sewn that pair twice, Joel. You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

“Is that so?” Suddenly his breath is hot against your cunt, and you clench around nothing.

“Uh-huh,” you moan as he runs one finger along the seam of your cunt. “‘Cause you’re a menace.”

“Only for you, darlin’.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Let me do a survey around town.”

He shuts you up by sliding two fingers right into your cunt, the stretch almost too much. Almost. But you don’t really notice because he buries his face between your lips, and any sassy remark comes out in a desperate cry.

He pulls away and gives you a warning look, head tilted. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, thick fingers clamping down and digging into your cheek. It makes you moan, but it also muffles it, so it works out fine.

“If you want your turn, you gotta be quiet. Otherwise, I’ll just have mine and shut you up proper.”

You choke down the moan dredged up by the thought of his cock down your throat and make the saddest pleading eyes you can muster.

He rolls his, shaking his head, before he goes back to your neglected clit.

You’re close, so close when you hear it. You pat Joel’s head, sitting up. “Was that the door?”

The shift is immediate. Three years in town has allowed Joel to relax somewhat, sometimes, but he slips back into it in an instant. He pulls back, brow furrowed, squinting like it’ll help him hear better.

It comes again, louder this time, insistent enough for him to pick up. A firm knocking.

There’s a pause, but Joel’s already on his feet, pulling his clothes back on. He tosses your shirt over as he ducks out of the doorway and you’re slipping it over your head when whoever is outside grows impatient.

Rapid, furious banging rattles the door, and you dart across the hall to shut the bedroom, but it’s too late.

Lulu starts wailing immediately, her little face scrunched up, nose wrinkling, and tears pouring out faster than a faucet. You scoop her up and soothe her, cradling her as she finds solace for her hurt feelings and empty stomach.

Joel goes downstairs, partly to shut up the racket but mostly because the sound fills him with dread. When he opens the door, it flings wide, and the tirade begins immediately.

Ellie storms in, already yelling. “—could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? You won’t even let her come out for fuckin’ Christmas because she might see me?”

You’re going down the stairs as soon as you hear her voice, but she stops yelling when she sees you on the landing.

“It’s not his fault,” you say, face hot with frustration and raw hurt. You hate the way your eyes water.

“Like hell, it isn’t. Maria said you were going to come, that one of you might actually have the balls to tell me you had a fuckin’ baby, and—”

“And I decided not to go, Ellie. Joel wasn’t even home. He didn’t know.”

Lulu has started to cry again, distracted from nursing by your ire. You murmur apologies, kissing the little tuft of dark hair on her head, and try to coax her back to your breast.

Ellie’s eyes are wide, and feet planted, ratty sneakers dripping filthy snow across the floor. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the tiny, ruddy creature who finally agreed to return to her meal.

“Hey, Ellie. We had a fuckin’ baby,” Joel says after the silence hangs for a minute too long.

The bark of laughter that bursts out of her looks like it hurts, but she can’t fight it. The tension dissolves into absurdity and then tears.

Ellie sits on the ground instead of the perfectly nice sofa to her left. You come down the stairs and sit beside her.

You look up at Joel, and he nods. You wish he’d come sit, but he’s too afraid to break the peace. “Would you like to hold your sister?” you ask Ellie, keeping your voice low and steady.

“Can I? I mean… what if I break her?”

“She’s pretty tough.” Lulu is done eating, just suckling for comfort, so you pry her off your breast and tug your shirt back up.

Joel takes her without thinking, leaning her against his shoulder to help her work out the air.

Once she gives a satisfactory belch, he thrusts her at Ellie, who’s startled enough to take her without thinking about it.

You all hold very still. Except Lulu, who is blissfully unaware of the strife and coos up at her big sister. She bats a little hand at her face, smacking her nose in an attempt to grab on. Ellie laughs, and her smile, her perfect smile that you haven’t seen in a year, breaks out.

You can’t help it; you start crying. Ellie looks up in alarm, but Joel shakes his head, moving closer to rub your shoulder.

“It’s not you,” he says solemnly, “it’s just hard, after.” He gestures at the baby.

“It is you,” you say, and Joel scrubs a hand over his face with a soft groan. “It’s—I’m sorry, I just—”

Ellie’s looking like she might make a break for it. She tries to hand the baby back to Joel, who refuses.

You get ahold of yourself. “It’s not bad, Ellie. I’ve just been waiting for this since she was born.”

Ellie softens and then scowls. “Then you should have told me. You should have told me you were pregnant in the first place. I said you could talk to me.”

“No, I couldn’t,” and you pause as she shoots a dirty look at Joel. “No, not because of him. Because I would have done the same damn thing, so you may as well hate me too.”

“What?” She seems genuinely shocked, which you don’t have the patience for.

“I would do the same damn thing. If I had been there, there would have been nothin’ in the fuckin’ world keeping me from getting to you, Ellie. Nothing short of death. Not then, not now. I’d do it for her, too.”

The room is stifling, and Joel hasn’t even lit the hearth yet. Your breath comes out in little puffs, and every one of you has wet, devastated eyes. Even Lulu, who looks like she might be the first to break into tears.

Ellie looks down and sighs. “So, Lulu, huh?”

“Actually,” Joel says, and chances a step closer, squatting down. “It’s Luna. Luna Luann. Tommy’s just an idiot.”

Ellie’s a smart kid. You can see the moment it clicks—the way she looks up at Joel with something akin to hope. It fades quickly, but you know he saw it, too. His own staggering heart, heavy with love unspoken, is betrayed in the way he has to fight a smile, choke down the relief. Maybe, just maybe.

Maybe next year, you’ll get a tree.

thank you all so, so much.

*title from "Alone This Holiday" by The Used

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #you know you never stood a chance series

[ughgoaway]

don't you think of me?

plot; snapshots of your breakup, with one letter underlining it all.

word count; 6.9k-ish

content warnings; swearing, dramatic overreactions, distressing dreams, depression, blood, general sad vibes, drinking and no happy ending (oops <3)

a/n; guys... angst is SO HARD. idk how people write it sooooo well. this fic is inspired by the songs "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "I Almost Do" and the storyline is based completely on those songs! but there are a few other Taylor song references in the fic too. anyway, this kind of jumps around a lot, perspectives and timelines. so if it's completely incomprehensible, I am so sorry!! lemme know if it's so awful I need to have a re-write lol. I really hope the flashbacks are clear, and that this timeline makes any sense whatsoever <3

(p.s this is basically dedicated to 🍪 anon and bff anon, ty for riding so hard for this fic lol)

(this is non-canon)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The cold wind hurts Matty's face as he battles against it. Each gust feels like needles prickling his cheeks. But still, he pushes through, not really feeling much of anything these days anyway. The paper in his pocket scratches his hands as he burrows them in deeper, but he just grips it harder. The scratches made him feel more human anyway. They convinced his hazy head that maybe life was still happening around him. 

The red post box in front of him is almost taunting. He stands frozen, gripping the letter he’s worked so hard on tightly. He has the passing thought of just letting it go, watching it blow away in the breeze, and never having to think about it again. 

He never has to think about you again. 

But he knows that's unrealistic. How can he never think of you again when you're all he thinks about? Every waking thought he has is about you. He still thinks about how your breathing changed when you slept next to him. The way your lips curved into the smirk he loved whenever you teased him. The flush that covered your cheeks when he did it back. 

Every morning, he still gets out 2 mugs. He still grabs your favourite wine at the shops and doesn't say yes to plans without thinking if he should check with you first. The last time he saw you was still burned into the back of his mind, and he was not sure it could ever leave. 

And to be honest, he doesn't know if he wants it to. If healing means forgetting you, forgetting everything you built, then maybe it is better to live in the pain. Each time he begins to heal, he picks up the scab over and over again. The sting reminded him of you, so he picked and picked. Blood poured from him relentlessly, but that was all he could do. Bleeding for you was all he had of you anymore.

He shoved the letter in and walked away briskly. He fought every bone in his body telling him to go back. To smash the post box and filter through every letter until he found his. He imagined a world in which he hadn't sent it, where instead he turned around and marched back to his house. 

Or maybe there's a world where he marched to your house instead. Maybe he finally got over himself and told you everything in person. He begged and pleaded for you to forgive him, to look him in the eyes and tell him you've been hurting just as much as him.

Matty isn't sure that world exists, though.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

3 days later, when it arrives, you stare at it endlessly. You move it from place to place in your apartment and try to visualise opening it there. But soon enough, that just becomes you avoiding that room like the plague, and you start to treat parts of your flat like they are infested with a deadly virus. But they're not, really. They're just filled with a small envelope with your name on it and a return address you know all too well.

You decide you aren't going to read it 2 days later. You hold it over a candle and watch the amber flames lick the bottom of the envelope. But before you can set it ablaze, some instinct takes over, and suddenly, it's the most important object you've ever owned. You pull it from the flames and put it out with your fingers, not caring if the fire sizzles your skin. You cry and beg for it to be okay, tears streaming from your cheeks as you frantically pull it open, “No no no. fuck, please.” 

But the letter inside was unscathed, just the corner of the envelope was covered in a thin layer of ash. As soon as you see that handwriting, though, you feel the unspeakable urge to burn it again, to set it on fire and watch it burn. 

You don’t. 

You lay it on the table and go to bed. You decide tomorrow will be the day you do something with it, even though you promised yourself that every day since you got it. But you're sure tomorrow will really be the day. It has to be.

You return to the warm solace of the bed you've grown to know too well over the past few weeks, and the duvet welcomes you in like an old friend.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

It's a few days after he sent the letter and the day after you received it when he sees you for the first time, and he can't quite believe it. There you were, standing in the coffee shop you always went to together. 

He wondered if the baristas had noticed you both started to come in without the other. Maybe they started gossiping about it, “Did those customers break up? I never see them together any more” and he could almost see someone else saying “I hope not. They were cute.”

Even though he knew no one would ever actually say that, and that the baristas hadn't noticed anything.

Some force that he couldn't explain pulled him towards you, and before he knew it, he was reaching for your arm. “Hi” he breathed out heavily, staring at you like he wasn't sure you were real. He wasn't convinced that you were anything but a figment of his imagination. Has his delusions about you already gotten to the point where he's having visions? He thought it would take a few more months for that.

“Matty?” You say gently, tracing your eyes over the man in front of you. Hearing your soft voice after months without you felt like heaven on earth for Matty, relaxation washing over him just at the soft dulcet tones of you.

Matty smiled softly at you, and you immediately returned it. He can see the cogs turning in your head on how to greet him. Was a hug too much? Is a wave too little? Is a handshake too formal? Overthinking was one thing you were so good. Matty was sure you could win an award for it. So he decided to take the decision into his own hands and wrapped out up in a hug, burrowing his face in your hair and smelling that familiar floral aura he'd fallen in love with.

Your whole body tensed when he first touched you. The once familiar feeling now was slightly cold and awkward. But Matty felt you relax and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face the the feeling of your head in his neck, the place you always used to lay. He swore he could feel you breathe him in, but soon convinced himself it was wishful thinking.

Reluctantly, you pull away, looking up at Matty with glassy eyes. The barista next to you clears his throat, bringing you both back to earth and out of whatever haze you were in. “your tea is ready” he says awkwardly, eyeing you and Matty with a sly smile on his lips.

“Right! Sorry, yes. Thank you” You grab your cup and turn back to Matty nervously. He can see the anxiety radiating off you, just like it always had. He never thought it would be directed at him, but he tries not to overthink it too much.

“Do you-” You clear your throat, shaking your head as you try to process that you're seeing him again. Seeing your Matty. “Do you want to sit with me? Catch up?” 

Matty can see your hands shaking around your cup and the nervousness swimming in your eyes. “Of course,” he says easily. He could never deny an opportunity to spend time with you. Especially not when he hadn't seen you in so long. And certainly not when you still take up his every waking thought. 

The conversation flows like you had never left, easily chatting and catching up like you always had. You tell Matty about the cat you adopted and how she loves to sit on top of the fridge to scare you. He tells you about his mum and her latest drama. Her kitchen cupboards were the wrong colour of grey, and it was the topic of conversation for much longer than he thought possible.

The first bout of silence comes when you ask about Annie, and Matty can tell it took every ounce of strength to force the words out of your mouth. You felt like someone had taken one of your vital organs when you left her, and you can still see her face in your mind whenever you close your eyes.

“she's good. Misses you, though. Especially because she doesn't see you at school anymore since you got a new job” he says with a solemn smile. Matty tries to hold eye contact, but he gives up a few seconds into it, instead staring at his coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. 

Thankfully, soon enough, the once stilted silence becomes easy chatter and laughter all over again, Matty welcomed the warm conversation with open arms, missing your presence more than he ever thought possible.

But Matty's mouth soon got ahead of him, “so when was the last time I saw you?” he asked thoughtlessly. His brain was on autopilot, and the words poured out of him before he could stop it. The very topic you'd both been dancing around was now laid out in front of you, and it couldn't be ignored. 

Matty saw something in your demeanour change, your once soft smile morphing into a faux-happy grimace, “Don't you remember? You screaming at me in the kitchen? And then storming out after saying what you did? Maybe you remember smashing a plate on the floor?” Matty pauses at your words, not quite believing you're deciding to re-hash all of this in the middle of a coffee shop, especially with a massive and slightly creepy grin on your face, but he answers anyway. 

“Of course, I remember. And there's not enough words to say how sorry I am but-” he stutters as he tries to explain himself more, but you cut him off, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you remember? When you left me? Abandoned me? Left me sobbing and alone? What about the 30 phone calls you ignored?” You kept talking, and Matty couldn't get a word in, your voice increasing in volume with each desperate question. 

“Look I’m so sorry-” Matty desperately looked around him to see if people were staring at your raised voice, but the cafe was empty. The once bustling coffee shop is now like a ghost town, with no evidence of another human ever being in there. 

He flicks his head back to yours, only to be in his kitchen, forced back to that night. He stares at you in your pyjamas, tears streaming down your face. He flicks his eyes down to see him dressed in the same liquor-stained clothes, and he can taste the red wine on his tongue.

“Why” you whispered over and over again, gradually getting louder, eventually shouting at Matty as he stood there motionless.

Matty wakes up in a cold sweat, panting wildly as his brain fights to figure out what the fuck is happening. He scrambles to his phone and realises; it's still the same day. It was just another fucking dream. He knows nightmare would be the better word, but he can't bring himself to describe anything with you in it as a nightmare. 

With a heavy sigh, he flops back to his pillow, gripping his phone desperately and trying to fight the urge to call you. It almost doesn't work, and he clicks on your contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. He sees the unanswered calls and the pleading messages. He can feel the desperation through the screen. 

He thinks your new boyfriend must've blocked his number because that's easier than thinking that you just hate him. Each time he reaches out, there’s no reply, and he feels a part of himself die.

He hadn't tried for a few months now, but he still had that urge to type out his every thought, to send it and call you until you answered. But he doesn't. 

It doesn't occur to Matty that the real reason that the reason you don't answer isn't because of a new boyfriend or because you hate him. Instead, it’s because you know you can't deal with another goodbye. You can't risk all this happening again. You were already practically ripped open. You can't risk tearing the very stitches you worked so hard to sew closed.

But matty doesn't know that, so with a huff, he clicks off you and onto George, and this time, he lets the phone ring.

“Huh? what-” he hears the groggy voice over the phone mutter, and it's then he realises maybe ringing George at 3 am because he had a nightmare wasn't the best decision. But it was too late now, and he could practically see George's expectant face from the other side of the phone. 

“Hi. it um- it happened again” Matty said with a huff, falling back into the pillows and staring at the moonlight dancing across his ceiling. He heard George's heavy sigh and the distinct sound of ruffling sheets, George had sat up instinctively, knowing something was up.

“What was it this time? Did everyone in the crowd turn into her again” George says softly, rubbing at his tired eyes and fighting a yawn. 

“No, it started off really nice this time. I saw her again at that cafe we always went to, you know the one near the studio? We were just chatting and catching up. But then she wouldn't stop talking about that night, telling me what happened all over again. And then I blinked, and I was back. I was in that kitchen again, just staring at her.” Matty follows the moonbeams with his eyes, lingering on the two beams crossing over, only for their paths to separate once again.

It reminded him of you and him.

“I think you need to get some lavender oil or some shit. You need to sleep. And these nightmares aren't helping” George says firmly, Matty would usually fight him tooth and nail at the suggestion.

He claimed it was because that stuff had never worked for him, but George knew it was because he saw it as still having a part of you in his life. Even if you were there in the form of his demons, at least they all looked like you.

But to his surprise, Matty immediately crumbled, “Yeah, you're right. Will you come to Boots with me after the studio tomorrow?” George agreed quickly before Matty could change his mind.

But he didn't try to, Matty simply said, “Thanks. Okay, I'll let you sleep now… Bye.” And before George could tell him it was okay, and he’d stay chatting as long as Matty needed, he was gone. 

Tears leaked from Matty’s eyes, wetting the same pillow where you used to lay your head. This loop of healing felt endless, and Matty wasn't sure if fixing this was possible when he knew you were still out there without him. Forever wouldn't have even been enough with you, but now he has nothing. What is he meant to do with no you?

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

As Matty lay awake in Manchester, you were in the same position in London. The same lonely bed, but different cities. Unlike him, you haven't managed to sleep yet. Instead, you can't stop your brain from imagining what is in that letter. Your mind falls back to that night, and you replay the events over and over again. Every word Matty said was etched in your mind, so it played easily, the same script ringing in your ears all these months later.

//////////////////////

Matty shut the door delicately. Getting home at 2 am. was already bad enough. He didn't want to wake you or Annie in the process. But when he saw the light pouring out of the kitchen and heard the distinct hissing of the kettle, he knew you were awake. And he knew you were waiting for him.

He walked into the kitchen silently, leaning on the counter and watching you potter around, he remember when he used to sit here for hours and dream of you in his house. Now he's not even sure the last time you said I love you to each other. You continue to ignore Matty, but you getting a second mug out of the cupboard tells him all he needs to know. This is going to be a long night. 

“At the studio late again?” You ask, passing Matty his mug and leaning across from him. Your eyes trace up his figure, and you can't help but think you don't recognise the man in front of you. His clothes hung off of him, and heavy bags sat under his empty eyes. His hair was standing on end, once perfectly manicured curls now frazzled beyond repair.

“Yeah, George wanted to fix this harmony. Sorry I'm back so late” he knew lying to you was wrong. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to explain where he actually was, drinking alone in a bar rather than at home with his family.

“Oh. okay.” you pause and wait for Matty to correct himself, giving him a chance to be fucking honest for once. But he doesn't, so you push again.

“That's weird though, because I asked Charli where George was 2 hours ago, and she sent a photo of them together. In bed.”

Matty's eyes widened. He knew he'd just been caught, but he wasn't ready to give up the lie yet. He just needed a few more weeks away, and then he would come back. Then everything would be made right again. So his tipsy mind comes up with a new lie and pleads with whatever God there might be that would believe him, “Oh did I say George? I meant Hann, you know how I get when it's late”

“Matty. You stink of booze. Do you think im an idiot?” You sigh, placing your tea down and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger bubbling within you was threatening to spill over. You felt as if every word from Matty was a stab, yet he kept just pushing the knife deeper.

“So I had a drink at the studio! Sue me, Jesus Christ” Matty sneers at you as he talks, slamming his cup onto the counter, ignoring the burning on his hand from the tea falling over the rim.

“Liar” you click your tongue at Matty and cast your eyes to the floor. Staring into his eyes as he lied to you was agony, and you're not sure how much more pain you can take.

“I'm not lying. I swear I just-” he tries to argue, but you refuse to let him keep going.

“I know you're lying. You're always fucking lying! You weren't at the studio.” you sighed heavily flicking your eyes up to Matty briefly, but the tension was too much, it hurt to look at him.  

“Baby, cmon, calm down. It’s okay, yeah? I’m here now,” Matty moved towards you, grabbing your cheek in his hand and moving in to kiss you, prepared to make this all melt away just like he always did. You try to push him away, but Matty stands strong. He had to fix this. He needed to kiss and make up. It was all he knew how to do.

“Would you just fucking listen” you shout, pushing Matty back across from you, “I don't even know who you are anymore! These past few weeks have made you into a man I don't even fucking recognise.” You look up at him with crazed eyes and scoff at the sight of the man in front of you. 

You were done with it all. The lying, the running away, the sleuthing around. Done. You were having this conversation, and you were having it now.

“No please don't say that. You know me. I don't know who I am without you knowing me,” Matty begged, sobering up quickly at your words.

He needs to bring this back, claw what little life you had left in you to the surface. Everything that left Matty’s life has had claw marks in it, and he would be damned if he'd let you go without the same scars.

“Don't you understand that's the fucking issue, Matty? You don't know who you are anymore, I don't know who you are anymore. You need to be a person without me.” your words struck Matty in the chest like a bullet. 

Were you seriously suggesting what he thinks you are? Do you actually want to break up with him?

Matty baulks at your words. Every feeling he’d had over the past few months was catching up to him, crashing into each other in his brain as they fought to be let out. Anger won because, of course, it won. It seems to always win.

He decides that if you want to break up, then he'll do it himself. He can't let you beat him to it. He knows it's childish, but he doesn't fucking care. He needs to win this. “Please, I've been a person without you for 30 fucking years. I’m a fucking dad! I don't need you to tell me who I am.”

“Annie needs both her parents, Matty. We need you back, please.” The mention of Annie makes outrage bubble within him like it had never done before. He can't believe you'd practically threatened to break up with him one minute and then beg for him back for the sake of his daughter the next. Because that is what she is, she's his daughter.

“You don't know what it's like to be a parent y/n,” Matty mumbles under his breath, but he might as well have screamed it at you because that's how loudly it rang in your ears. He knew he'd fucked up as soon as he said it, but there was no going back now, and he could see that in your eyes.

“I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Are you fucking kidding Matty? What the hell have I been doing here for the past year? Just fucking around? I can't believe you could say that to me.” You hear your voice wavering as you force each word out. 

“Annie is just as much my daughter as she is yours” you whisper desperately. The regret of mentioning Annie was building in your chest, and it felt like a rock impeding your lungs, each breath fighting against the weight. but it was too late to take anything back now. Both you and Matty knew it.

Matty scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes as he fiddles with his fingers. He tries desperately to cool his raging mind, but he can't. He figures if he is already in this deep, why not stoop a little lower?

“Just as much your daughter? Please. You weren't here for fucking any of it. Where were you here when she was born? How about when she was sick for the first time and wouldn't let me put her down without screaming bloody murder? Or- or how about when she broke her arm and she cried when she couldn't have a pink cast? Or maybe for any fucking time apart from the last 12 months. I know you liked playing happy families y/n, but be fucking real for 5 seconds. You were her teacher, maybe a fun friend, but nothing more. And if you think you were, you're more delusional than I thought.”

His chest heaved as he finished, not taking a single breath during his rambling speech, he could see your wet eyes and he felt his heart aching but he just couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you stayed, even if you never give up on us, on this. You could never be her mother.”

Both of you pause, the silence thick and heavy around you. How long could you stand like this and pretend he didn’t say that? Maybe if you just stayed there and listened to your ragged breathing, something would change.

But nothing did.

“Fuck you. You told me I was practically her mother a month ago. You said to me I was it for you, that your family was complete. I can't believe-” words poured out of you, streaming helplessly as you paced the kitchen. 

Matty tried to cut in, desperate to get a word in edgeways. The need to defend himself was all-consuming. He needed to know that you understood he said it in the heat of the moment. Words fall out of his mouth without thinking. He can’t help it.

“y/n, love-”

“I’m not her mother? Tell that to the time I took her dress shopping for your mum's wedding. Or when I took her to A&E with suspected appendicitis. and-”

“y/n. Stop, just listen to me, please.” Matty begs, he almost inches closer to you, but some ineffable force keeps him where he is, watching you pace helplessly.

“Listen to you? Oh, I've done plenty of fucking listening Matthew. All I do is listen to you! But you never fucking hear me-” 

“Can you just shut up for 5 fucking seconds” Matty shouted, grabbing a plate from beside him, throwing it against the concrete floor, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. He just needed you to look at him, to tell him you could fix this, but you wouldn't stop talking.

A gasp from you pulls him back to earth, and he feels his heart break into as many pieces as the plate below his feet. Your wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks glare back at him, and Matty has nothing to say. He has no fucking idea what just came over him.

Matty gingerly takes a step towards you, trying to avoid the ceramic splayed over the floor. His fingers shake as he reaches his hand out to your cheek, wanting to thumb away the tears falling.

But just as he does, he sees you flinch. It wasn't even a full movement, practically a micro-expression. But you fucking flinched. And you both knew it. The veil of silence over you is thick as you both stand there motionless with no idea what you could say to fix this. To make the last 10 minutes disappear. 

Matty’s touch used to calm you. It was the only reassurance you needed. But now the mere thought of it filled you with some twisted sense of fear. The woman he had planned the rest of his life with was scared of him. And it was all his fucking fault. How had this all become his worst nightmare? How had the very thing he sacrificed so much to build crumbled and destroyed itself so deeply?

“Matty wait- I’m sorry, I was just still on edge. It's okay, im okay. See?” With a shaking hand, you grip his, bringing it to your face despite his protests. You can feel him trying to pull his arm away, but you fight him at every tug. Forcibly placing his hand on your wet cheek.

As soon as your hand drops from his, Matty wrenches away from you. The feeling of your cheek against his palm felt as if his skin was burning. The pain touched his every nerve. 

The air is charged with pure fear as you stare at the other, both of your chests heaving and your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without thinking it through, Matty storms off, grabbing his keys as he pushes through the house. You chase after him, ignoring the blades of ceramic impaling your sock-covered feet, “No don't leave, Matty, please. Stay, stay here.” You reach to grab his arm, but Matty snatches it away before you can even feel his skin against yours.

“I’m leaving. I’m staying at George tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come pick Annie up from school. You will call in and take a sick day. Start packing your shit. I’m done. You're out of my house by tomorrow.” Matty demands, and with that, he leaves. Slamming the door behind him. 

Bloody footprints lay in a trail behind you, and your socks start slowly becoming sodden from your weeping wounds. But still, you stood there, unmoving. Shock coursing through your veins.

It was all over. Just like that.

////////////////////

The letter was taunting you from the other room, the blacked corner flashed into your mind whenever your eyes finally fluttered close. The image of you burning the letter played behind your eyelids like a movie, and you almost wish you really had done it.

But you didnt, so it still sat on your living room table, torturing you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep, tears dampen the pillow below your head, but you ignore the thumping in your head and finally let sleep pull you under.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

You know you're dreaming when you're back in that kitchen. But you can't stop it from happening. The hazy filter that covers your surroundings is the only thing assuring you this isn't real, that this isn't all happening again.

Matty stands in front of you just as he had that night, but he looks different. His once frizzy curls sat in perfectly ringlets around his face, the streaks of grey dancing through them more prominent. His unshaven face was now neatly trimmed, and you admired the salt and pepper hairs within it. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes, glittering on his waterline. 

“So you'll forgive me? We can move on?” he says desperately, smiling and moving towards you with tears falling down his cheeks.

You try to speak, but your mouth doesn't move, your lips stay pressed together against your brain's protests. Not even grunts escape you. Silently, you stare at Matty, completely motionless. 

“y/n? You forgive me. I can make this right again, can't I?” Matty begs desperately. He grabs your hand but recoils at the cold feeling on his skin, your fingers cold as ice in his grip.

You fight to speak again, to tell him yes. To tell him you forgive him, that you need to try again. But still, nothing leaves your lips.

Matty scoffs at you, ripping himself away from you, “I can't believe you're ignoring me. I thought you'd be more mature than this. Call me when you can actually have an adult fucking conversation.”

He storms off, but all you can do is watch him helplessly. Every nerve in your body is screaming to move, to chase after him. And you almost do, but some inexplicable force is keeping you there, motionless in the same place where your life ended all those months ago.

So you watch him leave again, the haze surrounding you soon becoming darkness. 

You know it's a dream, and you keep on telling yourself that. But when you wake with wet cheeks and a heaving chest, it feels pretty fucking real.

You swear you can feel him next to you, awake and staring at the same ceiling. But when you turn to see him, the piled-up duvet is all that's there, along with a cold bed beside you.

It's then you decide to finally give in to that voice in your head, the one screaming at you to just read the letter, to get it over and done with. The one begging you to throw it away and never look back is nearly silenced, and it soon becomes nothing but a whisper in the back of your mind.

The letter stays exactly where you left it, and whilst you know it couldn't have moved, part of you wishes it had. With shaking hands, you grab the pile of pages, and you can feel your heart racing the very same way it used to when you saw him.

The city lights shine onto you as you finally open the pages, looking at the handwriting you knew all too well. The same handwriting that used to give you butterflies, that used to detail how much it loved you, filling pages with adoration. 

Now you're not so sure what it entails. But you read anyway, ignoring every screaming signal telling you to stop.

///////////

Hi darling,

I know I don't have the right to call you that anymore, but I can't bring myself to call you anything else. It's been a few months since we've spoken, and I've felt every minute of it. I've filled notebooks writing about you, writing to you. I must have practised this letter a dozen times, and I know this still won't be right. 

So, instead of trying to write the perfect letter, I've ripped out some pages from my journal. My therapist told me to write like I was speaking to you, so that's what I did. I’m sure she would be pissed that im sending this at all, but I need to do this for us. To remember what we once were. 

Anyway, I hope it makes you understand what this time without you has been like for me. You can ignore this letter completely and I wouldn't blame you. I won't hold it over you if you burn it and never look back. But if you do read it, I just need you to know im sorry. For everything.

(3 weeks without you)

To say the past couple of weeks have been hell for me is beyond an understatement. There is this festering part of me that thinks I will love you forever, and the knowledge that we will never be like we once were kills me, but it has to kill me. Because if I felt anything other than agony, I would come crawling back to you, and you don't deserve that. And I know that. But fucking hell, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You know me, I don't know what it's like to have surface-level emotions. I either feel it all, or I feel nothing. and with you? I fucking felt it all. I felt every touch, every smile, every fight, every screaming match ending in tears. I fucking felt it. and for some reason- I'm still thankful for it. because at least I felt you.

I wonder if you're at the point where you miss me when you hear my name. And I can't help but think about you hearing my songs, do you change the station? Even if they're about you? But if I’m honest, they're all about you. Every one of them. Even before I knew you, they were about you.

(a month and a half)

I wish you could forgive me. I think if I knew you didn't hate me, I could move on. Or maybe it would do the opposite. I don't know. All I do know is, I miss you. 

(2 months)

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't handle it. I go driving and find the places we used to go, I sit there, and I can still hear your laugh. I can feel that all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you. but then someone speaks, or a car horn goes off, and suddenly, it's cold again. I mourn you like you're someone I've lost forever, and in a way, I have.

You know I still feel you every day, everywhere. Because you might have left, but you never really did. I still find your socks down beside the bed, and your hair ties around the house. I accidentally used your shampoo in the shower this week. You know that ridiculous Jasmine one that you pay too much for? 

It was like having you around again, I never thought the small of some shitty shampoo would be the thing that brought it all back to me, brought you back to me. Yet it was. But still, you were gone. 

So apparently, I decided to fall into the breakup trope of crying in the shower. For 45 minutes, which made me feel slightly pathetic. And it didn't help when George knocked on the door and washed my hair again. with my shampoo. But I still find myself smelling jasmine even when it's nowhere near.

You haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

(3 months)

It's 3 a.m., and I can't stop picturing your face. Just knowing you're still out there makes it so much fucking harder. I don't know how to cope knowing you're there and not here, with me. Even months later there's some sick part of me that hopes leaving me was the hardest thing you've had to do. but I hope loving me wasn't. 

I know that's selfish, and that this is all my fault anyway. so I want you to move on, even if it kills me. it's hell thinking that the one person you could never forget is fighting to forget you. 

But I hope you find the love of your life. I hope they make your tea just how you like it, and buy you those crazy expensive candles you love. I hope they will follow you to the ends of the earth, just like I would. even now. 

(3 and a half months)

I want to say you don't know how it feels to miss you, you don't know how hard it is. but I have to keep hoping you miss me just as much. because if you didn't, if you just moved on without a second thought; I couldn't cope. the fact that we will always just be an almost will live with me until the day I die. I don't want you to be an almost. I want you to be an always. but it's over, and I know that. or at least I'm very good at pretending I know that.

(4 months)

Recently, I've been thinking about “what ifs?” Despite my therapist telling me I shouldn't. But you know what it is like after breakups. It's this all-consuming thing, and you can't help but imagine if things were different.

I think in another universe, we worked out. I got over my massive ego, and you worked through your past, and it fixed itself. We got married, had another kid, and got that cat you always wanted. We'd go to Annie's graduation together. Her wedding together. you'd cry as I walked her down the aisle, I'd smile and kiss away your tears. and I know that's not this universe. but fucking hell why can't it be?

(4 and a half months)

My mum misses you. She asked how you were doing today and if I had reached out yet. I got angry at her and stormed out. If only she knew how many times I’d dialled your number and then turned off my phone. Or how many unanswered texts I've sent. 

Annie misses you too, by the way. She's finally stopped asking when you're coming back.

I wish she still asked.

(today)

I don't expect you to read all of this, and if you've just skipped to the end, I don't blame you.

but I'm sending this letter because I think I'm finally at a place where when I think of you, I don't take it as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together. instead, I think of it as a past life, as proof that we were an almost.

Next time I see you, I hope it doesn't hurt as much as the last time.

Goodbye, my love,

Matty x

///////////

The distinct sound of dripping tears hitting paper was the only noise in the room. You watched helplessly as the ink distorted under the little pools of wetness. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you can't help but fucking hate him for sending this.

How could he do this to you? All you've been doing for months is healing, but he keeps ripping open old wounds carelessly. He has to know you can never go back. You can't trust him.

All you left behind you was a mess. You were both better off this way.

With a scoff, you grab your lighter and cigarettes, stepping onto the balcony with the letter gripped in your shaking hands. You have to flick the lighter a few times before it works, the bitter wind fighting against it. 

But soon the flame comes, you sigh happily, moving it up to the cigarette delicately balanced between your lips. You suck in a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs. The slight crackle brings you more relaxation than anything else these days, but you still have to fight to ignore the familiarity of the scent.

You flick the lighter again, huffing annoyed as it goes out. Once you see the distinct glow of amber, you don't hesitate before placing it against the paper and watching the pages in front of you burn up.

Ashes sizzle your skin, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you welcome the pain. A sick smile comes across your face, grinning around the now-lit cigarette in your mouth.

Isn't it funny how little words mean, when they're a little too late?

#here it is... i am nervous <3 #like i had fun writing it but is it any good?? time will only tell... #angst is difficult but very interesting to write #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic #teacher au!

[zahri-melitor]

Poking at timeline stuff again:

So Kon was ‘born’ in 1993, and hatched from his tube aged… 15ish? He turned 1 in Nov 1995 (Superboy Annual #2 of his series) – note Kon is STILL AGING here, and after this point he’s usually described as 16 physically. His age ‘froze’ in July 1997 (Superboy #41) and then started aging again after Sins of Youth in May 2000 (Superboy #74) Kon died in May 2006 (Infinite Crisis #6) Kon returned in June 2009 (Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds #4)

2000-2006 is about a year in Comics Time. I think it’s 100% fair to say Kon was physically 17 year old, at his youngest, as at his death, and mentally 17-18.

Kon enrolled in Smallville High on his revival – he’s almost certainly in Year 12/a Senior – and 2009ish is known as the ‘start’ of a school year by a bunch of correlating factors (Steph starting college is one). Flashpoint interrupts and this school year likely never finished. He may or may not have celebrated his 18th birthday before Flashpoint but it either happened or was due imminently.

Known timegaps – Kon lost slightly over a year between Infinite Crisis and Final Crisis. His aging stopped either for over a year (if you use Bat timelines) or more like 6 months (given it was 3 years real time). In total I want to say Kon’s ‘age’ went backwards about 18 months to two years over this period. His mental age, however, probably only lost 15 months or so.

By Flashpoint, Kon probably was due to celebrate his 18th birthday in his personal timeline.

In comparison: Jason Todd died aged 15 (if you take canon at its word) or 14 years 9 months (if you use the canonical birthday and death day dates). He was officially dead for 6 months before getting resurrected (- 6 months) and then in a coma for a year (-12 months). He then had a fun amnesiac period which does not have a defined length of time before Talia got sick of it and pushed Jason into a Pit.

Using Bat timelines, 18 months after Jason’s death is probably some time around Contagion or Legacy. Legacy in particular makes a lot of sense for Talia to see Jason in Gotham and pick him up to take home with her. He probably had to go into a Lazarus Pit during No Man’s Land, given Bane and Bruce start the ‘destroy all the Lazarus Pits’ campaign post-NML, culminating in Death and the Maidens in 2003-2004.

Either way, Jason Todd is still mentally 15 years old as of 2000.

Jason’s not in a position to return to Gotham with Talia’s urging until AFTER the rebuild for the famous bomb the Batmobile moment (realistically probably 2000-2001), and from the rebuild process IN DC comics 2001 is a better call than 2000 if you don’t still want rubble everywhere (they didn’t manage to get Ivy out of Robinson Park until Jan 2001)

He then does his world travel training trip… but is back in Gotham for September 2003 and Hush (and Tim’s 16th birthday).

Given Tim’s birthday is canonically on 19 July, the longest Jason’s world training trip can be is 6 months, and is probably more like 3-4 months given the required futzing time either side.

Jason doesn’t legally turn 18 until March 2004 (Tec #790). He’s still almost certainly mentally 16 years old here. He’s arguably physically 17.5 here.

A set of preboot timeline facts from all of this that is hilarious (to me):-

Jason and Tim are mentally about the same age, given their canonical 23 month age gap by date of birth. Depending on how long a period Talia keeps Jason around as an amnesiac, Tim may actually be mentally older.

Yes. The Titans Tower fight was essentially two 16 year olds having a spat.

Kon, despite also having fun death times, is 100% mentally older than Jason for all periods, though they’re close to drawing even after Final Crisis. He’s probably close to physically the same age as Jason for a lot of the time up to Infinite Crisis.

Tim may actually have spent a similar amount of time training in Paris (between Robin I and some time during Legacy and the summer leading up to Cataclysm) as Jason did on his Lost Days world trip.

Anyone who questions how Tim can be one of the greatest bo staff fighters in the world when he’s working off the same time frame of intense training from masters as Jason is (and has a far more substantial training time with Bruce and Dick) is honestly discounting that Tim has more extensive vigilante experience than Jason does, particularly in terms of Gotham-focused skills.

Kon and Tim end up by Flashpoint as within a few months of each other in age.

#timeline shenanigans

[my1oves]

!!!Contains spoiler !!!

How about Mithrun getting saved by a tall-man(fem/gn from Laios'ss party) when he was about to get killed by the goat demon and one of his only desires becomes meeting ,thanking ,getting to know that person?

(if timeline bothers you, you can say this tall man aged slower or that they used some type of time magic to go back to save him at least a little ?)

savior

꒰ includes ꒱ ⸻ (dungeon meshi) mithrun.

꒰ warnings ꒱ ⸻ gn! reader, angst & some gore in the middle (a good ending though), ignores the canon timeline & also has some wishy washy time-portal-dungeon-magic stuff (let's imagine all dungeons are connected through time and space for this story)

꒰ blossom's note ꒱ ⸻ goodness this was so much fun to write (albeit sad and gory). i want to hold his hand and tell him everything will be okay and look after him and help him find new desires aUGH MITHRUN HAS MY HEART PLS- ahem, anyways... thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy it!

“It’s you.” Mithrun rasps, staggering forward towards you, almost tripping over himself. “How are you still… I didn’t think I’d get the chance to-” His hand weakly reaches out for you, but you take a hesitant step back. You were scared. You didn’t know who he was, and he could tell. Did he get the wrong person? No. There was no way he’d get it wrong. You looked exactly the same as you did then. His heart was stirring in his chest, a long since unfamiliar feeling for him. 

“Do I know you?” Your guard was up. Did you forget about him? But how could you possibly… That moment wasn’t just something from another weekday- was it? It was the worst moment of his life, and you saved him from it. So why…

“You saved me. I- I found you.” 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You offer, but he doesn’t seem to accept that. No. He was sure of it, whoever it was he was looking for, he was set on it being you. You couldn’t help but feel compassion for the elf. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. You wish you had been the person who saved him, the person he was looking for.

“No. It was you. I know it was, please, remember.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could, but…” You take another step back, guilt gnawing at you at his panicked and hurt gaze. “I wish I was the one you were looking for but I’m-” 

Another step back, it was your last, as you feel your footing slip. You hear shouts of your name coming from somewhere, Laios yelling for you to grab on but there's nothing for you to grab. The last thing you see is Marcille and Izutsumi peering over the edge of a cliff before you black out.

And when you wake, you find yourself in a dark room.

Wincing, you sit up and look around. This dungeon… You could feel it immediately, this dungeon was not the same one you were just in. The air was completely different. Weakly standing up, you steady yourself before calling out. “Laios? Marcille? … Senshi?” But no response. It was just you. 

Picking your sword off the ground, your ears pick up a commotion, and then blood curdling screams. Despite the ache in your bones, you rush after the scream, opening the door and turning down one hallway to the next, you finally stand outside the room. Despite the eerie silence that now hangs heavy in the air, the stifling atmosphere coming from this room is deadly. Your hand touches the knob, icy cold, before turning it and pushing it open. 

With horror, you watch as a goat-man-monster-thing digs its thumb further into the eye of the victim- one you recognized. It was that elf from earlier, despite looking different, it was without a doubt him. With no time to speculate what was going on, you finally move. The squelching makes you queasy, and despite the fear coursing through you, and the trembling of your hand, you draw your sword. A shaky exhale, you close your eyes and charge with a piercing shout. 

“G- Get away from him!” You cry, swinging your sword wildly. This monster was definitely not one Laios had ever mentioned; You had no idea what this monster's weak point was. You only prayed you could at least scare it off so you could rescue the elf. 

Peaking an eye open, the demon stares at you with contempt. You had done nothing to truly scare the beast- in fact it didn’t even seem impressed with your bravery. It was annoyed. It removes itself from devouring the man before you, licking its lips as if it just enjoyed the finest meal. “Don’t… Don’t make me hurt you,” You say, pointing the sword at the monster as you drag the elf away. It lets out a sigh. 

“You will come to regret this.” It speaks, before flicking its wrist at you and the man. Gasping, you cling on to the elf tightly, holding him close to you as you two seem to get thrown through the ever-shifting labyrinth of the dungeon, before getting flown through a mirror.

Wheezing, you clutch at your ribs, surely to have bruised them pretty badly. “Are you okay?” All you get in response is a groan, and a lazy roll of the head. The man stares at you. Blood dripping down the side of his face, he rasps, reaching out for you weakly. 

“Tha–”

The door to the room gets thrown open, an army of elves standing right there. “A tall-man?”

“It’s Mithrun!” One shouts, and before you could speak, that familiar sinking sensation tingles at your knees. You glance down from your knelt position and find the purple portal. 

“W- Wait! Find me!” You shout, “Find me in the future! I’ll be waiting!” And then you’re falling, You’re falling, and falling, and falling until your back hits the ground with a splash. Landing in some water, you tilt your head back to see a familiar waterfall. Your eyes close, unable to hold on to consciousness any longer.

And when you awake, you’re surrounded by your party. Chilchuck is immediately scolding you for being clumsy, and Marcille is latching on to you with tears. Laios watches you from afar, shaking his with a ‘you gave us a scare’ whilst Senshi nods in agreement. Izutsumi just watches you carefully. You blink a few times, sitting up only to groan in pain. Yep, definitely some bruised ribs. 

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“The elf! Mithrun!” You cry. Shit. Despite the pain shooting throughout your body, the throbbing in your head, the burning in your back, you push yourself to sit upwards. “I need to find him, I have to make sure he’s okay.” They all try to coax you into laying back down but you refuse, until the door opens and there he stands.

“You’re awake.” He says. “I know you do not remember me-”

You lunge at him, worried gasping sounds coming from your party members. You clutch on to his shoulders, his support being the only thing keeping you upright. (Perhaps you’ve broken a leg too…)

“I remember.” You say, squeezing his shoulders gently. “You’re okay… I’m so glad you’re okay.” You laugh weakly, relieved, your head falling forward with a shaky sigh. “Ah, I’m so glad you found me…” His eyebrows raise.

“You do remember.” Lifting your head up again to meet his eyes, you nod. “I… I’ve wanted to thank you for so long.” Mithrun’s voice trembles, perhaps the most emotion he’s shown since quite some time. “I finally get to meet you.” 

“A- As sweet and… uhm, confusing as this is, they really need their rest to heal.” Marcille breaks in awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt such a heartwarming reunion, but knowing you’re injured pretty badly.

“Oh, right.” Mithrun seems almost disappointed to hear this. “Could we talk later, then?” He asks, and you nod, with that gentle and reassuring smile that had him craving to know more. That desire that he thought he’d never get to fulfill blooming in his chest. “Then, get some rest. We will have plenty of time to talk later.”

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi headcanons #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon headcanons #mithrun x reader #x reader #fluff #imagines

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 2 of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For Vegas and Pete:

Evil babygirl & stealthily evil babyboy. Vegas, known committer of atrocities, and Pete, who didn't rise up the ranks of being a mafia bodyguard for nothing. Never forget how Pete brutally shot and killed his coworker who dared to shoot Vegas in front of him.

I mean. They both kill people all the time. They even have evil gay BDSM sex. It's all right there.

it's plainly obvious to anyone even looking in their direction how murder husbands they are. both have canonically killed multiple people, often on screen. Not to mention the onscreen scene of Vegas literally torturing someone. 

For Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu:

you've got the founder of the fantasy ancient Chinese CIA and the leader of what is essentially the mafia and then they're soulmates and in love. they're both willing to kill anyone who dares hurt the other while also just wanting a soft domestic life together

Zhou Zishu is an assassin and spymaster who put the current Emperor on the throne, and then quit his job by faking his death (kinda, hes still dying but not as fast as he was supposed to). Had done A Lot on his old job, including murdering children (more than one, and at least one of them in a way I can't even describe without several trigger warnings), exterminating whole families, war crimes (and i dont mean this in a buzzword way, i mean "organized a public execution of foreign diplomats during war time")… btw he doesn't feel particularly bad about any of this, because he believes it was necessary. Like he wouldn't do it for fun, but he thinks the ends (putting a good Emperor on the throne) justified the means (all of the atrocities). As a retiree, he definitely cut down on the amount of morally reprehensible murder, but not murder in general. He still routinely kills ppl, he just doesn't go out of his way to kill more. Wen Kexing, meanwhile, is the Ghost Valley Master - Ghost Valley being a place where the worst of criminals are exiled. Even in such a place, he has reputation as a complete lunatic, owed partially to the fact that he either skinned a man or fed him his own flesh or both at one point, and partially to him having a rule where he would kill anyone who came closer than 3 meters to him. But in truth, everything he'd done was to survive the Ghost Valley and eventually take revenge for his parents, who were brutally murdered when he was only nine. By the start of the novel's timeline, he put his plan in motion - the plan that would drown jianghu in blood, but also deliver poetic justice to all responsible for his parents' deaths, as well as all who'd commit the same crime given the chance. And these two men, these two murderers and schemers, meet - and unexpectedly, find in each other the person who /understands/. The person who is just as ruthless and whose hands are just as bloody, but also the person who knows standing at the top of the world is not worth it, who seeks the same freedom of leaving it all behind, and who is still, underneath it all, a human, with human heart seeking connection. So you have this couple who understand each other with barely a word, and who want the same things - who are so hungry for domesticity and for people they can just goof around with when all their lives they had to measure every step and word - but ALSO where one half a couple is like "i gotta go murder hundreds in revenge" and the other half is like "ok pick you up at 6". (This btw is why I'm submitting novel's iteration of the couple in particular. Show wenzhou with their ridiculous breakups over morality could Never.) Also they were both hiding who they are when they first met, and later flirted about having figured each other out. Finally, I'll leave you my favorite quote that just. perfectly sums up their relationship: "And just like that, they fell asleep in each other's arms, steeped in the smell of blood."

You’ve probably already had submissions for them but I’ll add on. One of them founded an assassin’s guild and killed a staggering number of people. His malewife is the leader of a sect of insane murderous outcasts, and he attained his position by proving to be the most crazy and murder happy of them all. Most of the plot involves him wandering around watching his schemes get more people killed. Together they adopt a kid that was only orphaned due to said scheming (oops). They’re terrible and I love them.

#losers bracket round 2 #word of honor #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #faraway wanderers #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #wen kexing #zhou zishu #wenzhou #vegaspete

[in1-nutshell]

Third request since you opened them, I just have a lot of ideas. I was rereading the Bee's team meets megatons daughter with the opposite personality Buddy and it got me thinking. You know how Knockout, Breakdown, Steve, and maybe Soundwave? Couldn't tell. But you know how all of them switched side because of Buddy in that one fic you wrote? (Or maybe not, there's a nagging thought in the back of my mind that I dreamed that.) Imagine they all notice that Buddy's missing and there's a slight panic because yeah, Buddy can take care of herself but why wouldn't she tell them? They find out that Buddy's back on earth and now there are a few ex-cons standing at the scrapyard's gate. (Or maybe Knockout never left earth and already knew she was there? Because there's that one episode where Bumblebee and Strongarm are thrown into the car lot with the uhm, wheel cuff things, and it pans out to a very suspicious cherry red Aston Martin. I refuse to believe that's not Knockout. And since Fixit (I think, can't remember.) and the humans had to go and rescue them maybe Buddy tagged along and Knockout saw them? Buddy might've also seen Knockout and decided to get the wheel cuff off of him as well. (Or maybe he didn't have a wheel cuff, can't remember. Jeez, how much have I said that?)) Anyways this was just a really long ramble of an idea that can be taken multiple ways. So do what you wanna do with this.

There's a bit of an explanation on the timeline in here. If it sounds a bit confusing, feel free to let me know so I can explain it better.

Also, added a little extra in here...

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality reactions from Knockout, Breakdown, Steve, and Soundwave finding out she went missing

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Familial, Cybertronain reader

RiD 2015

Going through the canon timeline of megs daughter.

Soundwave does get sent to the shadow zone through an altercation.

Buddy never finds out what happened to him.

She believes that he left Megatron during the chaos.

She was a bit sad that he never came back to talk to her or anything, but she also believed that he was taking some time to find himself after being a Decepticon for so long.

Knockout and Breakdown end up having joint stay between earth and Cybertron.

The pair loved driving through Earth scenery and was a place to escape Cybertron for a while.

Most of the Decepticons had started their new lives on Cybertron now that the war was over.

Buddy was no different.

Not only had she started a brand-new life, Buddy and Steve had recently become Conjunx Endura after a while of dating.

Steve had been on an away assignment for his work when Buddy left through the portal of their shared habsuite.

Steve walking into their home.

“Buddy! I’m back!”--Steve

Silence…

“Buddy! I’m back?”--Steve

Silence…

Steve starts looking around the home.

“Buddy? Buddy if this is another joke, I don’t like it!”--Steve

A few minutes later…

Knockout looks at his monitor seeing Steve calling.

“Breakdown its Steve!”--Knockout

“Put him on.”--Breakdown

Steve shows up on the screen.

“Hey Ste—”--Breakdown

“SHE’S GONE!”--Steve

Breakdown and Knockout out jump a bit.

“Gone? Who’s gone?”--Knockout

Steve has his servo on his helm.

“BUDDY! BUDDY’S NOT HERE!”--Steve

“Calm down Steve. Maybe she went out for a walk or something. Or maybe she went to go visit a friend. Remember last time?”--Breakdown

“…Maybe your right…”--Steve

“But if she doesn’t come back in a week then let us know.”--Breakdown

“Steve nods and hangs up.

One week later…

Steve starts calling Knockout and Breakdown.

Breakdown answers.

“Hey—Primus Steve!”--Breakdown

Steve looks tired and on the verge of a literal break down.

“SHE’S STILL NOT HERE!”--Steve

Soundwave, meanwhile, had spent his time looking for Megatron’s signal. He escaped the shadow zone a couple weeks before Buddy showed up, so he didn’t know that she was here.

Soundwave picks up on a frantic link between Knockout, Breakdown and Steve about Buddy disappearing.

He follows the frequency to Breakdown and Knockout which scares them half to death.

“Soundwave!”—Breakdown and Knockout

Soundwave stands there with his arms crossed.

“Breakdown—Knockout—Buddy?”--Soundwave

“We don’t know. Steve just told us she went missing from their home.”--Breakdown

Soundwave clenches his servos a bit.

The sound of a portal gets their attention.

Out pops out Steve.

“I’m here! I’m—SOUNDWAVE?!”--Steve

“Explain.”--Soundwave

“Steve is here to assist us on the search for Buddy.”--Knockout

Soundwave steps to Steve.

Knockout and Breakdown step to Steve’s side.

“He is Buddy’s Conjunx Soundwave. He has the right to be here.”--Breakdown

Soundwave freezes a bit hearing it.

“Buddy—Conjunx?”—Soundwave

Steve gulps a bit but puts on a brave face.

“Yes, I’m her Conjunx. A Conjunx that’s worried for her safety. We’d really appreciate it if you helped us find her.”--Steve

Soundwave pauses a bit and turns to Knockout.

“Continue.”--Soundwave

“As I was saying, a day’s weeks ago I was booted and taken to the yard where I saw this other Autobot get stuck there too, awfully annoying mind you. And then look who shows up but Bumblebee and his new crew.”--Knockout

“He has a new team?”--Steve

“Yes, and I swear I heard him say ‘Buddy’. I thought at the time he was remembering her from Cybertron, but now that she went missing, there is a chance that Bumblebee might know where she is.”--Knockout

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”--Steve

“Slow down Steve we don’t even have a trail on where—”--Breakdown

“Signal—found. 30—minutes—east—city. Coordinates on—commlink.”--Soundwave

“Now we go!”--Steve

Steve transforms and speeds down the road.

“…He’s good to Buddy. Their a good match for each other.”--Breakdown

Soundwave looks at Steve’s retreating form.

“Soundwave—will see—about that.”--Soundwave

It’s nighttime when they arrive to the scrapyard.

Knockout thinks about literally knocking on the door.

They hear Buddy yelling.

“Okay we need a good plan—”--Knockout

Steve uses Breakdown like a steppingstone and launches himself over the high wall.

“Or we can go in guns blazing I guess…”--Knockout

“Soundwave—approve.”--Soundwave

Breakdown offers Knockout and Soundwave a way over.

He could wait until they opened the door.

Soundwave and Knockout are now over the wall.

All the scrapyards’ alarms are sounding.

The team is on high alert when Fix-it mentions the Decepticon signals inside the scrapyard.

Bee tells Buddy to get Denny and Russel out of the area.

Buddy grabs her friends and sets on leading them to the other side of the scrapyard with Fix it.

Steve is dodging blasters and staffs like it was his job back in the Decepticons.

He is slightly hurt that Bee didn’t recognize him but then again, he does have a pretty basic frame.

Steve raises his servos in surrender.

“HOLD IT! HOLD IT!”--Steve

“Freeze Decepticon!”--Strongarm

“Hey! I said hold it! Now, I’m not here to hurt anyone—”--Steve

“I am.”--Soundwave

“Soundwave?!”--Bumblebee

The weapons get charged up and ready to attack.

“WE are not here to attack. Listen, Bumblebee, we’re just here to—”--Steve

“Where did everyone go?”--Breakdown

Breakdown and Knockout walk in on the standoff.

“Knockout? Breakdown? What is going on?!”--Bumblebee

Steve face palms.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain but everyone here seems to keep on interrupting me!”--Steve

Silence.

“Now. We came here to ask you if you’ve seen Buddy around?”—Steve

“Buddy?”--Bumblebee

The team immediately gets ready to attack.

“If you think we’re about to give her to you, then your sorely mistaken.”--Drift

“So, you do know where she is!”--Steve

Grimlock steps up front.

“And you’re going to have to go through me if you want her.”--Grimlock

“Fine by me.”--Steve

Meanwhile, with Buddy...

“I think we’re safe here.”--Buddy

“Thank the Prime’s.”—Fix-it

“AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!”

Buddy freezes.

She quickly looks at Denny Russel and Fix it.

“Stay here.”--Buddy

With that Buddy sprints back.

Grimlock had grabbed Steve and slammed him to the ground when he tried to get past him.

Steve luckily manages to get out of his grip and falls back.

Buddy is sprinting back to the main part of the scrap yard ready for whatever she was going to face.

She hides behind some used oil barrel and takes a peek at who the trouble was.

Buddy spots Steve on his knees, holding his side a bit.

She runs out of her hiding place.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOURE FIRE!”--Buddy

Most of Team Bee looks in shock that Buddy starts running past them.

“Buddy! Don’t—”--Grimlock

“HOLD YOURE FIRE!”--Buddy

The team hesitantly puts some of their weapons down.

Buddy rushes over to Steve, who was frozen seeing Buddy there.

“Primus Steve are you okay? That denting doesn’t look too—Oof!”--Buddy

Steve fights the shooting pain on his side and flings his arms around Buddy pulling her incredibly close.

“Oh, Thank the Allspark you’re okay!”--Steve

He lets go to look her over.

“Are you hurt? Where did you go? Were you kidnapped? What’s—“--Buddy hugs him tight making him go quiet.

He just wraps his arms around her and stifles a sob in his throat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know this was going to be such a long mission, but when Prime calls you, you gotta go.”--Buddy

“Excuse me when Prime what?”--Steve

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT IS GOING ON?!”—Sideswipe

Team Bee is extremely confused.

Soundwave takes a few steps forward and Buddy launches at her uncle he hugs back surprising everyone.

Then she goes to Knockout and Breakdown.

There is a lot to explain.

Steve stays by Buddy’s side the entire time.

“Hey Buddy, who is… Steve exactly?”--Denny

“He’s my Conjunx.”--Buddy

Steve feels a swell of pride and love hearing those words.

Steve grabs Buddy’s servo.

“That’s still sounds nice, you know.”--Steve

Buddy smiles shyly at him.

“Your Conjunx!”—Team Bee

“How come you never told us?!”--Sideswipe

“It never came up?”--Buddy

“What’s a Conjunx?”--Russel

“The Earth equivalent of a significant other.”--Breakdown

“You’re married?!”--Russel

“How?!”--Sideswipe

Buddy looks at Steve.

“That’s a story for another time.”--Buddy

“No, that’s a story for now.”--Sideswipe

“Another time.”--Buddy

“Now!”--Sideswipe

In the end Knockout and Breakdown end up going back to their home on earth. They do offer their services in case something bad does happen in their area.

Soundwave decides to take some time for himself not knowing what to do with everything now that the war is over.

Steve decides to stay in the scrapyard with Buddy and Team Bee.

#maccadam #transformers x reader #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was not a good father

And now it's no longer a theory. Now I have proof.

The last thing I expected to get out of this very strange invasions mode season was confirmation for a theory I've had ever since I first finished the story mode. Despite other characters in the game claiming that the father of the Lin Kuei brothers was an honorable man, something about that never sat right with me, given how cruel that man was in all the previous timelines and how vastly different Bi-Han views his father compared to his brothers, Liu Kang or Sindel.

I made this discovery on the mesa of Shang Tsung's laboratory.

At the very beginning of the mesa when you come in through the portal and head to the right (your character's right) towards the two crates that are next to each other, there's a node featuring a fight against Scorpion.

That node, loosely translated from my language, is called "Daddy's favorite".

It might seem like a small and meaningless detail and maybe I'm reading too much into it, but if the name of that node is anything to go by and if it's a reference to MK1's canon lore (which it has to be, otherwise I don't see why it would be there) this adds a whole new layer to the tragedy of the falling out between Bi-Han and Kuai Liang and Bi-Han's decision to let his father die.

Was he neglected? Despite being the oldest son and the grandmaster's heir, Kuai Liang was the favorite son. He was his father's pride and joy, not Bi-Han. That explains Bi-Han's bitterness and his resentment towards his father as well as his eagerness to earn the respect of others. Because his own father didn't give that to him.

Sub-Zero: I helped you, but I've earned no respect. General Shao: Because there's nothing lower than a traitor.

Johnny Cage: I thought I had daddy issues. But you? Sub-Zero: My family is none of your business.

Would a good father have a "favorite son"? Should a good father not love his sons equally, without picking favorites?

Another small but noteworthy detail is one of Bi-Han's invasions mode encounters being named "Joyless initiate" (again, loosely translated because my game is in my native language, not English). You have to wonder what kind of life Bi-Han lived for the game to refer to him that way and how much of that is owed to his father's strictness or lack of care towards him since he wasn't the favorite son. It certainly implies Bi-Han faced hardships that the main story never really talked about or even mentioned.

It might not seem like much, but I'm sure some thought was put into making these nodes and the references and hints exist for a reason.

I'm aware that a lot of people think the father of the Lin Kuei brothers was a good guy, but as a reminder, in the original timeline, Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was ruthless enough to kidnap the brothers from their mother, potentially even killing her and their younger sister in the process, and turned them both into assassins for the Lin Kuei. Of course, the reboot is set in a new timeline, but as I said in my previous post, all characters are still essentialy the same. Some backstories and allignments have changed, but not the character's personalities and even in this new era, the old grandmaster is no saint.

I think it's messed up that his response to the Lin Kuei killing Smoke's entire family and turning him into an orphan was to take Tomáš in and turn him into a warrior for the very clan that murdered his family.

Sure, some might view it as a noble gesture that he took responsibility for the mistake he made and decided to give Tomáš a home after he was orphaned, but if that man cared at all about Smoke's wellbeing, he could have found a better solution for the situation. He could have told Liu Kang about what happened and asked him to let Tomáš stay at the Wu Shi academy instead of turning him into an asset for the clan that killed his mother and sister.

While that's only a side note, it proves that Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father had a twisted idea of what it means to be a good parent if he thought that taking in the son of a family his own warriors murdered was the "honorable" thing to do without sparing a second thought to what that was going to do to Smoke mentally.

Anyway, this subtle hint is one of the few good things to come out of this invasions mode season and I'm glad I found it.

#bi han #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #mk sub zero #bi-han #kuai liang #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada #mk smoke #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1

[slicedmayonnaise]

I want to take a moment to talk about one of my favorite characters in RDR2: Kieran Duffy.

I've seen a few posts on my timeline recently about him and people's different interpretations of him and head canons of him. So, I'm going to add my two cents.

Now, this is my personal head canon about what type of person Kieran is and some of this may be GROSS mischaracterization.

Let's begin with the facts.

Kieran is NOT some weak, innocent, stuttering, scared man. He IS the sassy man apocalypse! He is not afraid to stand up for himself or others when he feels he needs to. He saves Arthur, for one. He is also one of the characters who can knock Arthur out and kick him out of camp when he's being an asshole. We can also see him standing up for himself to people like Javier and Sean during camp interactions. He also draws his pistol when Milton and Ross show up to camp and threaten the gang in chapter 3. He is an army vet and was part of another gang before he was taken by the O'Driscolls.

Now let's get into my personal head canons.

First of all, I don't believe Kieran Duffy is actually his name. When Arthur first asks Kieran his name, he says "I don't know" and after Arthur threatens him a bit more, he comes up with Kieran Duffy. And we of course know outlaws are notorious for using pseudonyms. We see the others use them constantly throughout the game.

Why would Kieran lie about his name though? Easy. Because he is actually secretly a badass, cold-blodded ex gang leader.

Stay with me now.

I believe Kieran was actually the leader of the gang he ran with before the O'Driscolls. And I believe he was a big time outlaw just like Colm or Dutch or Flaco Hernandez.

Why? Because why would Colm waste his time attacking and kidnapping some random guy he found camping in the woods? There had to be a reason. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's rewind.

I believe in leading his gang, Kieran became greedy and corrupt, just like Dutch did. And I believe he, like Dutch, led all of the men (and maybe women) that followed him straight to hell. One by one, they were picked off, just like with the Van Der Linde gang. And I believe the last of them were killed when Colm attacked. Maybe he was originally after Kieran for the price on his head, but decided he was more valuable to him alive. Surely if he's a big time outlaw, Kieran had thousands of dollars stashed away, which Colm would have obviously taken along with Kieran. Maybe the money he got from Kieran was more than the reward he would've gotten for Kieran's head, so he gave Kieran the choice to work for him or die with the last of his gang. Kieran obviously chose to work for Colm because he was afraid to die.

Obviously, Kieran would have felt a lot of guilt because of his gang, and would have gone through a lot of torture at the hands of the O'Driscolls. We can see in the beginning of the game that Colm is abusive towards him, which isn't surprising. He is also malnourished prior to the gang starving him as a means of making him talk. And let's look at how horrified he is at the thought of betraying Colm. He says himself that Colm is an evil man, and he expresses to Sean how scared he is of Colm. This experience would've definitely humbled him and watered him down from the tough outlaw he once was. Much like John, he no longer wanted to be a part of the outlaw life. He just wanted to live quietly with his horses and go fishing. And that's the version we get of him after he finally settles in with the Van Der Linde gang.

I also think Kieran is bisexual and gender fluid. I think he was a lot for femme presenting before he got taken by the O'Driscolls, just given his mannerisms and the way his hair is cut. It looks like he had long hair and chopped it all off Mulan style. I believe, similarly to Javier in rdr1, he stopped taking care of his looks after he joined up with Colm. He cut his hair and let his facial hair grow out, as he lost his desire for vanity.

#anyways thats my rant #live laugh love kieran duffy #kieran rdr2 #kieran duffy #i love kieran #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #rdr #red dead redemption two #red dead #red dead 2

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Homeward bound. 2738 words.

1986

Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of Eddie swooping by, keeping pace with your car. It was mid-afternoon by the time he grew tired, burrowing into his front seat nest and sleeping until twilight. As soon as the sun was safely locked away on the other side of the world, Eddie chittered and you responded by turning him back into himself.

He stretched out, making dramatic noises and pulling faces.

“You okay there?” you asked him, laughing at the show of it all.

“Only trying to make you smile, my little witch.”

Damn.

“So, you were right,” you changed the subject. “About not being the only non-witch,”

“Wolf, right? I could smell him.” Eddie’s face screwed up in disgust.

“What happened to the support group for monster lovers?”

“I draw the line at lycans.”

The seriousness of his expression made you laugh. “Well, you’ll have to redraw it, because Ev has it bad for him. The others already knew all about it too,”

“And we believed we were special,”

“I mean… We still are… Witches and werewolves aren’t mortal enemies…”

“Of course. Wolves’ mortal enemy being their own tail and all,”

“Eddie! Stop,” you laughed, hitting him with the back of your hand.

He grinned at you, then looked out at the road. “And the other?”

“That one is a bit more of a secret. Ash is seeing one of the fae folk. It’s still very new. Taking it slow… Making sure they’re not actually trying to lure her into some centuries old curse. You know how they are,”

“Trickster sprites,”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “And then there’s Steve fucking Harrington… who has elected to inexplicably haunt Mel,”

“Why? I assume he never met her,”

“Yep, but she came and asked me if the ghost in her house was him. It was. He says he’ll leave her alone but had this stupid puppy dog look on his face… So… Maybe there is a whole new world of witch romances to come.”

Eddie grinned, he liked the sound of it. Though, he really didn’t want a werewolf as a brother-in-law. “Do you want me to take over?” he asked then, pointing to the steering wheel. “I’ve been practicing,”

“And here I was thinking you disappeared in the middle of the night to eat,”

“Oh, I do. I find the worst person I can. I eat them. Then, I take their car for a lesson,”

“A two birds, one stone, kind of thing, huh?”

Eddie nodded with a disconcertingly innocent smile on his face.

“I was thinking about that actually. I think I can help,”

“With which part?” he asked. “The eating or the thieving,”

“Neither. The choosing.”

The joy left Eddie’s expression. He looked away from you, suddenly studying the hardly visible horizon out his window. “You don’t need to be a part of it. You don’t have to have it on your conscience,”

“Neither do you. Not in the same way, at least. What if I can take some of the guesswork out of picking who is, you know, bad,”

“It’s not guesswork. I watch them. I find them while they’re-”

“I know. But what if you didn’t have to wait for them to do something bad? What if you could tell what they had already done?”

Eddie stayed quiet. There was a gas station up ahead, the lights shining brightly. You pulled in and cut the engine.

“I know it’s always going to be on you. You’re always going to have to make that call, about if they have sinned and if the sins are…”

“If they justify death,” Eddie finished for you solemnly and still not looking at you.

“Yes. But what if you could see them? The sins. If you could, I don’t know, just touch someone and see the worst of them. And only when you wanted to. Would that help?”

He was clicking two fingernails together, pensive or maybe anxious. Eddie got out of the car and looked around. There was a family inside the gas station. The kids were screaming about peanut butter cups and soda.

“Would it help you?” he asked after you’d got out and walked around to him. His hands were shoved into the pockets of the sweatpants he’d been getting in and out of, vampire then bat then vampire then bat. “It might make it more precise. But it’s still conjecture. Still a judgment. Still a human death.”

You tried to read him, but he’d locked you out for the moment.

He continued, “Sometimes it hurts. Or, sometimes I think it hurts. Or, I think it should hurt. I don’t know if I can tell the difference. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I can stop myself from hurting them. But I don’t know, really know, if it weighs on my conscious. I don’t even know if I have one.”

It had been easy to get lost in Eddie’s goodness. It had been the important thing to show your coven. But it was never going away, the darkness. He might have been a good vampire, not a properly made monster, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still a vampire.

“If I say it would help me-”

“Then, I am sure, it would help me. What is good for you is good for me,” Eddie told you. “But I can tell which of them are more like me than you. I can see it in their faces. But if this makes you feel more in control of it, then I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

The neon sign of the station buzzed and crackled, the cicadas trilling back at it. The family got in their car and hit the road again, the radio turned right up to drown out the noise of bickering children.

You could see the station’s clerk watching you and Eddie from behind his counter.

“Loving you doesn’t make me feel guilty. I’m not ashamed of what you are,” you told Eddie then, looking back at him. “I’m not trying to make you into something you’re not.”

He nodded. “I know.” He saw it on your face, a flash of exasperation. “What are you trying to do?” he asked. “Because I’m not ashamed of what you are either… You don’t have to be a lawful, virtuous witch.”

There was a small smile playing on Eddie’s lips and you knew it meant he’d cottoned on to the fact that the seed of darkness that lived inside you was working its magic.

“It’s not just about making things easier for you or for me. It could be… A kind of justice…”

“Ohhh,” Eddie almost laughed. “I am your weapon, and if you can point this blade in the right direction, then well fuck, it might work faster than the humans’ courts and witches’ spells?”

Eddie had only recently started to swear, a habit he was picking up from you most likely. Fuck, in particular, sounded terribly good coming from his mouth.

You looked at him and slowly nodded. He threw his head back and laughed into the night. The gas station clerk sighed in relief at the sudden change of atmosphere around you both.

“Oh, my little witch. You do continue to delight me.”

Eddie pulled you into a rough kiss, letting the tips of his sharpest teeth run along your bottom lip. You were warm and tasted so sugary. He had been itching to eat you up since leaving the Catskills.

“I love you,” you said breathlessly when he let you come up for air.

“I love you too. Entirely.”

…

Waking up alone was bittersweet. Although you missed the weight of Eddie next to you, the immediate crawl of his body to yours, it did mean he was likely up to something. Mostly, it was innocent domestic work.

Pre-turning, Eddie never really had a place to call his own. As a vampire, the idea of home meant something different too. But now, the boy could nest. He cleaned and picked flowers to put in vases and glasses all across the trailer. He was also dabbling in cooking, though he could not eat the fruits of his labor.

So, mostly, it was domestic work, but now and then, you would wake up to him doing something different. A week after returning from the Catskills, you and Eddie had fallen back into routine, but this morning was out of the ordinary.

Eddie had stacks of books crowded around him. Pages of handwritten notes were spilled across the coffee table, your altar supplies stacked neatly below it.

“Looking very witchy there,” you greeted, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Hi, my love,” he replied without looking up. “I’m almost finished.”

Looking around, you realised it wasn’t just the books Eddie had been combing through. Herbs and other potion-brewing bits and pieces were lined up along the kitchen bench.

“Almost finished what?” you asked.

“The spell.”

Nodding slowly at him, you waited for the explanation. It never came. Instead, you let him work on his craft and went about your day.

By mid-morning, he was ready.

“Little witch!” Eddie yelled loudly. You were outside, watering your potted plants and herbs. “Little witch! Come!” There was childlike enthusiasm in his voice and it made you smile.

“Where do you need me?” you asked him, but he was already ushering you to the couch.

“I have written you a grounding spell,” he announced.

“A grounding spell?”

“Yes. Something to reconnect you to the natural world. To promote health and healing.”

Eddie was wide-eyed and on the verge of mania. He had a little dirt smeared across his cheek, and it was caked under his nails. Although his hair was pulled back in a bun, single coils of curls had fallen out throughout the night. He was beautiful.

“Go on,” you urged.

“It starts with malus domestica,” he began.

“It always does,” you noted, already holding back a giggle. He could have just said apple. Still so very dramatic.

“They connect you to the earth. Sacred. Biblical.” He really had been doing his homework. “Then, black hellebore root.” Eddie was at the kitchen bench, holding up a jar that he’d already dug through. That explained the dirt.

“I hope you’ve been careful with that,” you warned.

“I know. Extremely toxic. Even witches sometimes wear gloves to handle it,” Eddie said, reciting one of the books he’d read. “But it is also symbolic of rising from the past. And has a long history of use in witchcraft.”

Eddie had read about hellebore poisoning, how it brought on hallucinations but could also cure mental affliction. He read about how it could be harnessed and used in banishing spells and for purification. About white versus black hellebore and all the folklore surrounding them.

“Okay. What do we do with this apple and root?” you asked, playing the part of a captive audience.

“Core the apple and thread the root through it. Let it air overnight, by moonlight. Come morning, it gets wrapped in willow then cooked,”

“Willow?” you tested.

“Willow that is strong and true. Willow that takes pain and fever and grief and releases you from it.”

You nodded and smiled.

“When the apple is cooked through, falling apart, you take the hellebore root and powder it,”

“Then what?”

Eddie hesitated. “Alas, I do not know…” he admitted. “I can’t find a way to close the spell,”

“Do you have any ideas?” you asked, standing up and coming to the kitchen counter. You looked at everything he had pulled out of the apothecary.

“Moreso, bad ideas. What not to do. Consume it, for example,”

“Yeah. That could kill me. Maybe even turn me into a werewolf,” you joked. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless. “Kidding. Hellebore is an active ingredient in lycanthropic ointment though… Mostly it’s used in what we used to call flying ointment, or magic salve. So no, I cannot consume it,”

“Yes… Well… I thought then, returning it to the earth. Burying it. That didn’t feel right,”

“Mmmhmm… I think you have a clue here,” you told him, pulling a bowl of eucalyptus seed pods forward. “Did you read about these?”

Eddie shook his head.

“They’re kind of amazing. Eucalyptus trees are native to Australia, but are planted ornamentally around the U.S. They produce a highly combustible oil through their leaves. Little fire bombs, basically. They catch ablaze easily. But, these little seedpods are fireproof, and when threatened with fire, they drop lots of seeds and fertilise the scorched ground. Within a couple of years, the burnt earth is already returning to its gloriously green form,”

“Very smart of them,”

“Very smart,” you agreed. “Maybe we can learn from them. We can not just withstand the blaze, but add fuel, let it all burn, and start again,”

“The powder… we let it go free…” Eddie said slowly, catching on to what you’re saying.

“Ah-huh. We give it to the wind.”

Working side by side, you and Eddie cored apples and filled the void with black hellebore root. You set them on the kitchen windowsill ready for the moonlight. (You’d have to take down all the window’s covers though, sunproof house and all.)

Eddie was proud. It was written all over his face.

“Now who’s the little witch?” you whispered to him, stepping up to his body, pressing yours to his.

In reply, Eddie pulled you close, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. He kissed the top of your head then pressed his cheek to it, resting on you.

“Thank you. Nobody has ever written a spell for me before… Well… Not a good one…” You looked up at him. “You are good, Eddie. And you’re allowed to be. You can be… both. Everything,”

“Everything,” he repeated quietly.

“Yeah… So… What now? We can’t work on them until tomorrow.”

Eddie swept you off to the bedroom by the time you opened your eyes after your next blink.

“But it’s not bedtime,” you said voice saccharine and purposefully dumb.

Eddie grinned. “It’s not. I don’t want you to go to sleep now anyway,”

“No?” You sat on the edge of the unmade bed, looking up at Eddie.

He stood between your legs, reaching out to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs running softly across your skin. He smiled wide, teeth sharp. “I’m very, very hungry.”

Eddie rarely let himself taste your blood, though the occurrences were becoming more regular. He was scared of a multitude of things. Not being able to stop. Seeing something in your magic blood he couldn’t unsee. Pissing off some ancient and unknown creature that would resurrect if ever a vampire munched on a witch.

Sometimes, if you begged pretty enough, you’d get a small bite out of him. But it was better when he came asking for it. The soft inner thigh was his greatest weakness.

Lifting your arms up, Eddie followed the instruction and took your shirt off. You fell back against the bed and let him push your skirt up. He dropped to his knees and kissed the tops of your thighs. Up, up, up, until his mouth was bruising the skin above where the femoral artery was pumping blood.

You still didn’t know how he did it, how he could make it feel so good. You didn’t want to know. It was his own secret vampire magic and it was one mystery that would never appear on your murder board.

Eddie’s teeth sank in and your hot, red blood began to flow. He pushed you further back on the bed, then held your leg up, so the blood would pour down towards where you were already wet. His tongue lapped at blood and arousal fast. He didn’t waste a single drop.

You writhed under him, eyes screwed shut, and body on fire. The vibration of his tongue was pulling you ever closer to climax, but he wouldn’t stay in one spot long enough to let you get there.

Eddie grabbed your hand and smashed it to where he’d bitten you. “Heal it,” he growled, barely able to form words. You did what he said and he licked your palm clean of blood as a thank you. He hooked his arms under your legs and ripped you back to the edge of the bed. Then, he was positioned exactly where he needed to be to let you get there.

End Note: We're back in Hawkins... Now what? Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader

[toointojoelmiller]

Have you ever consumed so many devastating TLOU fics that you your heart was at risk of being permanently broken? Does the thought of Part 2 being filmed right now and our collective timeline inching closer to *that scene* airing on HBO with Pedro and Bella make your palms sweat? Same!

My prescription for you is to read today's spotlight stories and remember that, actually, we can stop torturing these two at any time we'd like. (Personally, I won't, but reading Joel and Ellie father-daughter fluff once in a while is good for general mental health.) I'm always reading and writing angst and @becomethesun's fics always feel like a breath of fresh air - and, of course, makes me even more heartbroken at all of the what-could-and-should-have-beens that TLOU I promised and TLOU II used to torment us. She is currently writing a Sam and Henry live AU (Collaborators) that is an answer to my prayers. The two stories linked here are favourites of mine:

true blue by @becomethesun 18,505 words || 5 chapters featuring: family fluff, Ellie adapting to life in jackson, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets to be a kid

me and my dog (and an impossible view) by @becomethesun 6055 words || one shot featuring: family fluff, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets a dog

from @march-flowerr: "If I had to pick one fic only to re read for the

rest of my life, becomethesun’s “true blue is (it feels good to be known so well)” would probably be it. I’m hard pressed to think of a story that I hold dearer than this - five chapters, short but flush with all the small details and nuances of life in Jackson that we don’t get to see in the game. “True Blue” offers such a sweet catharsis while still holding to canon. Becomethesun gives us these compact, bright glimpses into Ellie’s daily life in Jackson: we get to see her goofing off with Dina and Cat, learning to relax into her relationship with Joel, finding her footing in her new family and community. It paints such a tender and clear picture of Ellie as a girl - not Ellie, the ex Fedra cadet, or Ellie the cure - but Ellie as a kid, with friends and questions and ambition and insecurities and a love for her little world so big that it is breathtaking.

In “me and my dog (and an impossible view)”, we’re introduced to Strelka, Ellie’s dog. She finds her as a puppy in an abandoned book store and brings her home to Jackson. Strelka sees her through her through her first rough days of school, sick days and snow days. I don’t really think much more needs to be said about this fic to illustrate just why it’s so good - Ellie gets a cute little dog that makes her happy. What more do you want, people??"

Re-reading these fics feel like coming home. There’s a lyrical cadence to becomethesun's words that I am drawn continuously to. I love the feel of her fics: the syrupy sweet way the story wends itself through from beginning to end, the way that all these intense emotions and elements are whittled down into simple, intimate moments, like making paper crowns with a friend or curling up with your dog after a long day. The real beauty of these fics is the way that becomethesun has chosen to take the small things - the mundane, the day by day - and has chosen to let them shine. To remind us that amidst real horrors - and let’s be real, TLOU has a lot of those - there is still good to be had, that the little things that make up a life well lived - the things we take for granted - are the most important things. That even when it feels like your world is ending, you can still sit on a porch with your family and feel safe. That at the end of the hardest days, you can always come home."

If you read and love this, please please show the author some love and leave a kudos / comment!! Happy fandoming y'all.

Joel Miller isn't dead if we keep him alive y'all.

#the last of us fan fiction #delulu can be therapeutic #let ellie williams be happy #tlou fan fiction #tlou fic rec #the last of us fan fiction rec #let joel miller be happy #fic rec #joel miller #joel and ellie #ellie williams #saturday story spotlight #tlou fic recs #the last of us fan fic recommendation #parent joel #fan fiction is amazing #support fic writers #tlou fics #found family #joel and ellie forever #joel is ellie's dad #ellie gets a happy ending

[directdogman]

how involved was callum with nasa? he was president during the space race and personally sent norm on his mission but something that stook out to me was norm mentioning intell nasa info about man on the moon - neil armstrong - which happened 3 years AFTER he left earth. was history shuffled for callums sake, if it was important at all?

Disclaimer before I answer this: This is a nerdy DT lore question that is absolutely not essential to understanding DT lore and it's teeechnically slightly removed from the scope of the current canon (since it mainly relates to the actions of a character who Gingi has never met in-game), but it's a smart question so I feel compelled to answer it.

Answer: Your guess that the moon landing happened earlier in DT's universe than in ours, during Crown's presidency, is correct. It's funny, but I've got this rough draft of a joke post written that I never posted (involves DT characters having to pick their favourite Muppets. Yeah.) where Gingi (out of spite) informs Norm about the NASA Challenger explosion (a very specific malfunction/televised rocket explosion that occurred in the 80's in both universes, though the Bird Big Puppeteer died in DT's version of the event, unlike in ours, where that only almost (but didn't) happen.) ...which implies that, yes, with him not knowing about this event, Norm's intel obviously DOES cut out post-warp, meaning the moon landing itself was pre-warp by virtue of Norm having secret intel about it.

There are other big clues to an early moon-landing in other dialogue, but I figured I'd at least confirm your method of reasoning was also correct.

On the question of whether Crown really altered history: Yeah, history was shuffled to a large degree, certainly during Crown's term. while most events match up in timelines, Crown invested WAY heavier in certain technologies (mainly nuclear weapons + space flight), causing the US to hit certain milestones early (and even a few that we never did, when you consider the full extent of what Crown got done as President and then Honorary Leader of the UN!)

While I guess Crown's rigorous strides towards vast technological advancement was never outright stated in-game, I definitely implied it through Crown selecting Norm for the mission himself (which means Crown evidently had direct oversight on NASA projects.) There's also the very obvious (but easy to forget) point that of course NASA would not have gotten Norm to a wormhole before they reached the rock in earth's orbit! We're obviously far closer to our moon than any wormholes, and that also goes for the small sci-fi wormhole Norm traveled through which is not far from DT's version of earth (yet doesn't exist in ours.) If it was closer to earth than the moon, it'd definitely swallow satellites sent up by companies into space, which is funny and the kind of thing that would happen in DT's shitty world, come to think of it. But, yeah.

But yes, your question is entirely right for the reasons mentioned above. this might seem unnecessarily convoluted but there IS a reason why I constructed things this way (I know how it all connects in my head), but yeah, it's a little bit complicated to wrap your head around if you don't have surrounding context, and this kind of nitty gritty detail only really matters if you actually want to map a concrete timeline, or God forbid, deconstruct certain actions Crown took in office (some of which have never been directly referenced in canon DT material, but likely one day will be!)

#dialtown #norm dialtown #callum crown