#remember when i used to work full time and go to school full time i had the worst hair ever i chopped it myself in the bathroom mirror

[muwapsturniolo]

Hockey!matt

First post in the AU!

MATT STURNIOLO: PASSIONATE OR A HOT HEAD?

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, a 24-year-old triplet native to Boston Massachusetts. According to his parents, from a young age he and his youngest brother Christopher Owen Sturniolo, were always interested in sports. Seeing this, the parents decided to throw the boys in any sport they could. They started off playing for their town's soccer team, a typical thing for most kids to do. However, it seemed as if the sport wasn't enough for a young Matthew. It was too easy, he cleared all the other kids without even trying. Seeing this, his parents threw him into another sport, lacrosse. Now this held Matthew over for a long time until it became boring, he needed something more.

That's when hockey came into play, a sport most boys in Boston find solace in during the cold months. The sport seemed to be Matt's calling, the ice feeling like a second home. His talent was natural, something most people couldn't obtain no matter how much they trained. He ended up loving the sport so much, he made it his full-time career.

At age 17, he graduated high school alongside his two brothers and their childhood best friend. All four boys managed to get full-ride scholarships to Boston University, a school that had many NCAA wins, and has sent many players to the NHL. Matt took control of the Terriers by force, quickly becoming the captain when only being a freshman. Many of his former teammates and coaches had good things to say about him, but something stood out to me. That something was his anger.

"He was a hothead, always shouting and yelling at us during practice"

"There were a couple of times where he broke his stick and punched a locker after losing a game"

"I remember he argued with our coach one day. The argument was so bad, both of them just ripping into each other. It escalated so quick, one second they were shouting and the next Matt was throwing punches."

All of these are quotes by old teammates who would like to stay anonymous.

It was an evident pattern that managed to follow him to where he is now, the lucky star of the Boston Bruins. I had the specialty of sitting in on some of the practices, seeing how the men work with each other. Just like I expected, Matt was a force to be reckoned with. He yelled and berated some of his teammates, even going as far as getting into an argument with his own brother. It's hard to tell if it's just him being driven by passion, or if he simply has anger issues. I chose to go with the latter considering what I saw during the first game of the preseason.

The Bruins were losing against the New York Rangers, not that the score mattered. The preseason is mainly for the coaches to evaluate their team and see who fits where. So why was Matt Sturniolo causing fights, yelling at refs, and being an overall hothead? He resembled the Hulk, the brute green giant who was also a hothead when angry. It seems as if no matter the situation, training, preseason, or the actual NHL season, he was locked in and out for blood.

He's passionate about the sport, perhaps too passionate. Would it be his downfall? Would the Bruins let him go and leave him to reminisce about his glory days while he rots? We will have to tune in to this year's NHL season to find out."

Y/n Y/L * october 3rd, 2024

AHHHHHH A NEW TROPE/AU!!!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! IF THIS IS CONFSUING IM SORRY! I TRIED TO MAKE THIS INTRO THE ARTICLE READER (AKA YOU) WROTE ABOUT MATT WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE HOW YALL MEET! I HOPE THIS GIVES A GOOD BACKGROUND! I PLAN ON DOING FICS FOR THIS AU BUT IM ALSO WILLING TO DO BLURBS JUST HOW I DID FOR BUNNY!READER!!!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!

[primeofprimes115]

A "Marvel"ous Discovery - Mary Marvel/Shazam x Male Reader

Contains: Fluff 🥰

A/N: Something different for a change, about time I did a different character other than my girl, Kara. Now shall we??

SHAZAM!!! ⚡

Attending Fawcett Community College in Fawcett City was something of an experience for Y/N, he himself obviously didn't attend this College on his own, he moved into a dorm who was someone he had met back years ago, reunited at last when he wasn't expecting it.

Her name was Mary Bromfield, who was adopted at a young age before the both met in school, starting a friendship that sparked for a while until he had to unfortunately move out of Fawcett City, due to his father's business trips, cutting off contact with Mary but she'd always remember him...

And so did he.

The reunion was... Emotional, almost nerve-wracking at first since Y/N had known he'd be Mary's roommate, she was informed of having a roommate but the details were scarce, she had no clue until he stepped through the door to meet her, there was a moment of shock, then questions, then tears falling down her eyes before she walked over and gave him the biggest hug she could give him, if she was showing her 'secret' to him, she'd be floating off the ground with him in her arms.

"Y-Y/N?" her heart dropped like a rock hitting the pavement upon him turning around. Her eyes struck wide, looking at the boy in shock as he dropped his bags and hanged up his coat on the coat rack on the door of their shared dorm. "Y-You're..."

The young man turned around to face the girl he grew to love, at least in secret, or he did have a thing for her or two back then, never even saying one word about it. He looked at her with an inviting look in his eyes, and with an all familiar smile, one that she missed seeing.

"Hey, Mary. Been a while?" he quipped, talking a little step forward as Mary stood still, unsure of what to even say or do next upon seeing her lost friend's presence, standing in front of the dorm she was to share with the unknown assailant.

She planned out ways to keep her secret away from whoever it was going to be sharing the dorm with her, figuring out different excuses to use if necessary. Her secret was that she was and is Mary Marvel, the renowned Superhero that worked alongside the main Shazam for a time along with other Shazams that this main Shazam shared his power with, before they disappeared one day. It was revealed they lost their powers and superhero form due to losing a connection to what was called 'The Rock of Eternity'.

However... Some time later... Mary as a new adult, gained her abilities back and became the New Champion of Shazam, though many call her "Shazam" now, she was and always has been Mary Marvel, eventually leading down to her reclaiming the title of Mary Marvel again later down the line.

Things did get complicated now that she was attending College now, she used to go to a College down in New York, away from her family, but recent issues surfaced that forced her to move back near her family's home, attending Fawcett Community College to continue her studies in Science, mostly Biology and Medical Science, she already knew most about it and vowed to get a job with it. A proper job without being Mary Marvel all the time.

And the last thing she didn't expect, was finding out her new roommate, is an old friend she hasn't seen in many years, even before getting her full powers of Shazam.

Mary began to walk forward, her vision got a little blurry due to the tears forming up in her eyes and wrapped her arms around Y/N, giving him a big, strong hug which made him chuckle. In response, Y/N wrapped his arms around her as Mary quietly sobbed in joy, overjoyed to see Y/N again. She didn't feel like letting go.

Y/N remembered the Mary he knew all those years ago, the innocent, sensible and cute brunette girl, and here she was... And still is the same girl he had to leave his friendship behind with all those years ago.

The two eventually would catch up with all things that has happened in their lives since they last seen each other, Mary had to keep most subtle details out of being Mary Marvel/Shazam mostly, wanting to keep him out of that business so he didn't get hurt by her family's enemies, or anyone bad for that matter.

Low and behold, the whole reason why Y/N had arrived to study at Fawcett Community College was to study under Science, Biology also which sounded like music to Mary's ears, bringing the both closer to each other again.

Mary recounted all the times she had spent with him when they were younger, how she viewed him as this sweet, out-going boy who wanted to be her friend one day, she had barely any from what she recounted, only her adopted siblings she had much communication with.

He was always by her side, even at lunch, most boys would poke fun at him for hanging out with a girl, until Mary had, in her way' heard enough of Y/N being picked on one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

In a way, it was a cute gesture, a sweet one at best.

With more revealed coming from Mary, Y/N had told her he took self-defense classes, under his father's guidance, his father's "business trips" weren't exactly normal, he worked under the United States Government and at the time, his family was in danger, the only suitable option was to move his family to a safer location, which Y/N had no choice in.

All the time for catching up came to be and the pair became friends again... Or so they thought.

Y/N's feelings for Mary soon came back up after two weeks, from all the times they spent with each other at the end of studying together, going out for lunch and all the teasing he did on her, he couldn't help but begin to catch feelings for the brunette girl again.

Even though she sometimes and oddly disappeared whenever something she was informed about was happening, or when danger was being reported, she'd later come back, finding Y/N all safe and sound, though one time... He was caught in the midst of danger - searching for Mary before a red blur transported him to safety from a villain tearing through the city, who had a grudge to settle with Mary Marvel herself.

He had heard about the Heroine before plenty of times, but never got to see her up close much, the only time he did was at that moment of the blur saving him, which was Mary Marvel herself, telling him to get to safety quickly, though her voice did sound very and oddly familiar, he listened and did as told.

Of course that day, he was going to confess his feelings for her and ask her out, though they've been getting lunch together and are living in the same dorm together, he really liked her and wondered if she felt the same way...

"In truth... Yeah. I did like you for a time" Mary gave him a genuine smile, shifting her hand over to his and planted it in his palm, feeling his warm hand close up against hers. She looked away for a moment as Y/N's heart paced rapidly. "And... I still do, I still have... Butterflies in my stomach every time I think about you" she admitted with her cheeks flushing warmly, her gaze coming back to him.

She still likes him to this day, she often hanged around in space, out of Earth's orbit or on Earth's Moon, trying to configure a way to even tell how much she had feelings for him, it felt like a weight coming off from her as soon as Y/N told her how much she meant to him. However... The other weight on her shoulder was her secret of being Mary Marvel, which is an even more nerve-wracking explanation to tell him.

Y/N's heart swelled in that moment, a part of him wanted to jump up and celebrate but that would be a little too vague, he was shocked to say at least, he'd thought it wouldn't end well and she'd be mad at him, but Mary has never gotten mad at him once.

Sure, she did tell him off for running into danger to 'search for her', though she was lying to him at the time of being safe at that part then, being Mary Marvel and all, she never raised her voice or yelled at him angrily. She was a pure and innocent person at heart.

The same could be said for Y/N, who's just defensive over her, especially around guys his and her age looking her up, though she could defend herself quite fairly which was a surprise to him to say at least.

"That's... That's great!" Y/N said, overjoyed. The two sharing a big hug afterwards on the couch...

Days turned into weeks after the confession, the two currently were holding hands, walking down the street. The pair haven't kissed yet but there has been some pecks on the cheek and on the hands. The both agreed to take it slow first to see how it goes.

And it was going well, very well in their experience.

Mary always had bad luck when dating guys, as she was inexperienced much, so was Y/N but the pair were happy nonetheless. They had to keep their slowly building romantic relationship under the rug in College, in case anyone would find out, as it was Mary's obligation to suggesting that idea, and Y/N agreed.

However... Mary Marvel was needed mostly than rather not very much, now that she was apart of this 'New Justice League' that's been set up and put together by Supergirl, the Woman of Tomorrow, who was a mutual ally and friend towards Mary. Which meant she had to skip dates unfortunately.

It was only a matter of time until Y/N was going to eventually discover that Mary Bromfield is in-fact Mary Marvel/Lady Shazam, the Marvelous Innocent Superhero, and it worried Mary.

But fortunately, today was a day for Mary to relax and not go out as Mary Marvel as often as she had to be, as much as she finds it enjoyable to fly around and keep the world safe.

She had rather a goofy, innocent smile plastered on her as she walked hand in hand with her boyfriend, who in turn looked back at her while she thought back on what had been going on in her personal superhero and normal life, while in the midst of walking back to their shared dorm.

"What's got you giggling?" Y/N's voice brought her back to reality, she looked at him and softly laughed to herself for a moment.

"Oh, sorry! I was just thinking on some things" she brushed aside happily, sparking Y/N's curiosity.

"And what may they be, mi-lady?" he cocked his eyebrow up with curiosity, smirking in her direction as the brunette giggled with her cheeks slightly flushing.

"Oh... Just back when I defended you from those rude boys back in Elementary" she replied softly, clutching his hand tightly and warmly before colliding her shoulder into him gently.

"Oh yeah, I remember that" he thought back on it with her, softly laughing at himself about it next. "For an innocent girl, you sure know your way with words back then".

"And I still do" she sent a wink in his direction.

"And it's cute, honest" he smiled in her way. "Have I ever said it's adorable when you come up with words instead of swearing?" he brought to her attention.

"Well..." she shrugged innocently before giggling and pecking his cheek.

The pair continued walking down the streets of Fawcett City, eventually stopping near an alleyway which Y/N thought of taking the shortcut.

Much to Mary's suspicion of seeing it completely empty, as any other alleyway would be but she had a feeling it was reeking of suspicion.

"Here, we can take a shortcut through here" he suggested.

"Uh, Y/N, are you sure?" Mary asked with a worried tone, looking down the same alleyway.

"Yeah, it's a shortcut".

"I'm not really sure, it looks... Ominous" she showed her suspicions toward the idea but Y/N rolled his eyes nonetheless.

"I've been using this route all the time, it'll be fine! Trust" he replied softly, holding her hand still.

"Okay..." she sighed after a few seconds of careful thinking, knowing if things didn't go well through this... 'shortcut', she'd have to reveal her secret as Mary Marvel at least.

And so... The pair walked in through the alleyway... All was going well...

Until someone stepped out from the corner, as another followed behind the pair.

"Ah shit" Y/N mumbled to himself. "Maybe I should've listened to you" he said towards Mary.

"What we got here? Two stranglers walkin' in our turf, huh?" one thug talked with a New York accent.

"Mary... When I say run, you run" he whispered to her.

"What?!" she whispered back to him, completely took aback by his suggestion.

"Just do it, okay? I can take these guys on".

"When they have guns and shoot at you?" she pointed out with her observation, the two thugs had sidearms on them, one aiming toward them and the other, his hand reaching the inside of his jacket where his concealed firearm was.

"Shit" he whispered again.

"So, pretty girl. Give us the purse, see what ya got" the thug who originally spoke walked forward, closer to them while backing the young couple in the corner.

"If you want to get to her, you'll have to get through me!" Y/N bravely defended her, opting to shield her like a real gentleman, as the thugs laughed at his eagerness to defend his girl.

"We got guns, pointed at you, you ain't some superpowered being".

"Ha!" Mary scoffed loudly. "Ironic" she then said with a sarcastic tone, while the boys looked at her in confusion.

"Enough talk, lady! Now give us-"

"I am a superpowered being" Mary then said loudly to them and to her boyfriend.

The thugs laughed at her, thinking her delusional, an idiot even, much to Y/N's displeasure of hearing them insult her.

"No seriously, let me show you" she was dead serious, walking past her boyfriend and out in front of all of them.

"Mary, what are you...!" Y/N immediately stopped himself from talking, originally he was going to plead her to not do something stupid like he was about to do, which was getting herself killed.

But the moment he saw a glint in her eye, like an electric beam phasing across her beautiful chocolate brown eyes... He saw it.

He saw what she meant and his eyes widened...

"You're -".

"SHAZAM!!!" with a shout out to the sky, and the magic word, a bolt of yellow lightning came crashing down onto Mary's body, blinding the thugs and Y/N for a brief moment with smoke covering where she was...

And when the smoke cleared...

Mary was wearing something different, clad in a white and gold outlined cape, connected to a clasp that was just over her left corner of where the lightning bold was on her chest, dressed in a red long-sleeved top and skirt with a gold outline on the basis of her skirt and red shorts underneath. A gold belt over her skirt and gold braces over her arms. And to top it off... Gold boots.

She transformed into Mary Marvel!

"Alright boys, times up" Mary quipped while striking a superhero pose, before she zoomed her way up to the thug on Y/N's right and punched him once, sending him flying onto a dumpster down the alleyway as his friend watched in horror.

The thug couldn't even believe it... The boy he was about to rob was hanging out with Mary Marvel?! It seemed he didn't even know it was her.

"Oh, that's gonna hurt for an entire week" Y/N felt a little bad for the thug his now superhero girlfriend knocked across the alleyway, tumbling down from the closed dumpster and onto the concrete floor, groaning in pain.

Then, Mary zoomed near to the thug who was about to fire at her boyfriend, using herself to shield Y/N from getting shot with the bullets bouncing off her as she stood heroically.

"Did anyone tell you, no guns in my city?" she scolded the thug, zoomed up to him in a whoosh, her cape billowing behind her like her dashing hair, flicking away the last remaining thug into a nearby wall with her finger, knocking them out.

"That. Was... Amazing!" Y/N praised her girlfriend's efforts as she turned around with an all-around, guilty look on her face while she began walking up to him. "You look... Marvelous" he laughed at his own joke, making her smile and cringe a little.

"That was... Bad, but in a good way" she replied, before sweeping him off his feet and into her arms, before the wind began to get a little stronger.

It was then he noticed Mary was taking flight up into the air, while carrying him, her hair, skirt and cape billowing in the wind as she began to fly in the sky, above the city foremost with a look like she had been caught trying to open the cookie jar when she wasn't supposed to.

She failed to notice how optimistic her boyfriend looked currently, he had just witnessed his girlfriend turn into the superhero, Mary Marvel, confirming his little suspicion, and watched her embarrass the thugs that tried to rob the both of them on their weekend date.

"I... I know you probably have a lot of questions" she broke her oath of silence, Y/N seemed lost in thought of being carried by her, she noticed him blushing about it. "And... Whatever questions you have, I can explain... I'm so sorry-".

"Sorry for what? Being a superhero this WHOLE TIME?!!" he said with excitement in his voice, something Mary didn't think how he'd react. "This is mind-blowing! I never thought our relationship would be more magical, but this?" he chuckled very happily, gloating over the fact he was really close to a superhero this whole time. "It's... It's spectacular. I've never felt more safer until now".

Mary couldn't help but smile but a sense of dread came over her, she'd lied to him, when she promised she would never, NEVER EVER, lie to him, she was always genuine with him.

"The thing is Y/N - I lied to you" her smile faded, replaced with a saddened expression, much to Y/N's displeasure of seeing her unhappy. "I lied to protect you, when lying can put strain on relationships, I promised I wouldn't lie but... But this-".

"Mary" he placed a hand on her cheek, while his other arm was still wrapped around her neck, her wavy hair in the wind tickled his arm which he liked. "It's okay that you had to keep this from me" he eyed down the part of the lightning bolt on her outfit, which glowed in the shadow of him as she carried him and soared through the air. "I understand the rules of being a superhero, I mean... My mother was one back then".

"R-Really?" she asked with a surprised look.

"Yeah, she was a vigilante back in the 90s, but enough about that" he brushed it to the side for a moment. "I know you had to keep this away from me because you wanted to keep me safe, and that's okay" he rubbed his thumb on her cheek as the white caped brunette superhero with the full powers of Shazam began to smile. "And I gotta say... Dating a superhero is something I didn't expect until I began to suspect of you being a superhero, I know it was a wild thing to think, but when you kept disappearing, Mary Marvel - - you - - would show up to save the day, and I still remember you saving me a month and a half ago as well, I had a feeling that was your voice I heard, nice trying to cover it up by the way" he smirked near the end as Mary rolled her eyes with a groan.

"I thought it worked! Should've known you'd figure it out sooner than later" she grumbled before giggling away. "But of course, you know me very well".

"That I do" he smiled before looking out to the view as Mary Marvel soared through the air. "So this is what flying is like? The view is beautiful" his eyes lit up with pure joy, feeling the breeze hit his face as he was being flown by his girlfriend still.

"I know, I've always wanted to show you this" she exclaimed, Y/N looked back at her and smiled.

"I'm happy you are now" he said, the sky-blue sky around them as he smiled deeply at her with him closing his face in toward hers.

Mary's eyes saw what he was doing, she stopped herself from flying for just a moment to share the view with Y/N like she was originally going to do and met him halfway, closing the gap.

A spark of joy erupted between the two as their lips touched, strong senses of feeling sparking in them while it seemed the world around them just faded in the background, only the wind and the movements of Mary's skirt and cape being picked and blown around in the same wind could be heard.

Their eyes closed, lips softly pressing against each other's, it soon drowned out Mary's butterflies that were in her stomach while a loving sense of spark was sent through her body along with Y/N's as the two shared their first ever lip-to-lip kiss.

And it was at the perfect moment...

Soon the two pulled away, a smack of their lips prominent as all smiles were shared towards one another with their eyes slowly opening.

"I know we're in College still, but I can't imagine my life without you in it, and the fact I'm dating a superhero makes it so much better" Mary's smile turned bright and joyful upon hearing his words. "I really want to build a life with you after College, to one day have our own house, and everything we've ever wanted. The thing I've always wanted... Was to just be with the best and dare I say it, marvelous person I've ever met, who is in fact the most beautiful girl that's ever came into my life, who needed a friend in a time of need".

"Aww, Y/N" Mary puckered her lips. "You're gonna make me cry".

The young man softly laughed at her response, he couldn't help it.

"Mary... I love you" three magical words is all he needed, not the other magic word that could transform one person into a superhero form, or at least... Put a superhero suit on in Mary's case.

She choked up on hearing his three magical words, smiling ever so lovingly as she tried to hold back her tears from earlier. "I... I love you too!" she brought him into second kiss, her lips pressing against his firmly but gently, knowing she was in Shazam form, any wrong slip-up, she could break his nose accidentally... Though she had firmly crashed her lips with his without realizing.

"Ow" he muttered in her lips, prompting her to pull back quickly.

"Oh my heavens, I'm so sorry!" she panicked, her face scrunching up thinking she screwed up.

"Haha, it's okay" he gave her a smile. "I'm okay" his drew his face closer to her again and lightly kissed her back on the lips, continuing it for a brief moment before pulling back. "This is why I love you, you're so sweet".

"I thought I hurt you badly there, forgot we were in the air for a moment there that I thought I wasn't Mary Marvel there for a moment, which you probably know what my powers are" she expressed her worry.

"Lost in the moment type of thing, completely understandable" he reassuringly smiled at her. "Hey, are you gonna fly us back or... Continue flying me around..." he looked at her with a mischievous look. "Mary Marvel" he smirked the next, making her smirk back at him.

"Hmm, well... I've always wanted to take you on a flight, so..." she puckered her lips suggestively, before smiling right at him.

"Then, what are you waiting for? Let's go... My Hero"...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 4145

[songsofadelaide]

"—ppy Birthday tooo yooou!" The light was dimmed and the only illumination came from the numerous candles set alight on a shiny fruit and cream shortcake, your smile as bright as the sun as your friends sang in the background. "—ke a wish before you blow the candle—"

Click.

"—toru, hurry up before the timer hits!—" "—f my life, my angel, my—" A young Satoru ran to your side and gave your cheek a big-ass smooch as countless golden ginkgo leaves rained in your background. A picture-perfect autumn ahead of a new year full of decisions. "Ahaha! Nooo! That tickl—"

Click.

"—guru, come on over! You too, Shoko! It—" Empty coffee cups were strewn across your shared table with your friends, the sound of both laughter and complaints filling the air as your friends gathered around you and Satoru, his laughter the loudest of them all. "—haha! Ack! No! W-Wait up, Kento! Satoru said—"

Click.

"Oh, so that's what you've been up to, Seiya," you said, breaking the silence that enveloped your son's bedroom as he jumped from his gaming chair and hurriedly minimized the open video player on his PC.

"M-Mom! H-How long have you been standing there?!"

"Long enough for me to know where my missing SD cards went," you chuckled at the evidently embarrassed face of your teenage son, the spitting image of his father in his youth except for his eyes— which he clearly inherited from you. "Now how did you get your hands on these?"

"W-Well, I..." Came the boy's sheepish reply, a nervous hand on his nape as he evaded your curious gaze. His embarrassed expression starkly contrasted with your husband's usual mischievousness and boisterousness, even though they shared the same long, feathery and silvery eyelashes and hair.

"You're not in trouble, dear, if that's what you're worried about," you reassured him as you took a half-seat on the handle of his chair, careful not to rest your entire weight on it. "Now let me see..."

Seiya released his mouse to you, which you used to click on the minimized video player once more. Digicams were all the rage back when you were in high school and well into college and as the only one in your friend group who owned one, you were primarily responsible for documenting every mundane and special occasion whenever you all got together.

"Oh, this was from my 18th birthday," you laughed as you clicked on the following snippets. "And this was when your father and I visited Meiji Shrine before our college entrance exams. Aaand I think this was just a regular day! We just had coffee..."

"Aunt Shoko never really stopped smoking, did she?" Came your son's query as he eyed you browsing through the aged video clips with a small smile on your face. It was clear to him that you were reminiscing now about the days of your youth, encapsulated in slightly grainy and overexposed photos and videos, yet the memories were clear as day.

"Nope. Though she does that thing now. That, uh, vaping thing? Now don't get any ideas, young man."

"I-I won't, Mom! I promise!" Seiya stammered at your slight warning. "I'm sorry I touched your things. I just thought it would be interesting... to see how you and dad were when you were my age."

Oh, but he pulls off those adorable puppy dog eyes just like his father, all right.

"It's hard to believe that he had so much time for you back then! I-I mean he's so busy now! Does he even remember to text you or at least get you a gift every now and then? I-If not, maybe we can go somewhere together? Or do something together?"

"Oh, Seiya. I'll have you know that I am very happy to be married to your father," you gently laughed at your son's little outburst, coiling your arms around his neck as he lazily rested his warm cheek on your chest. "He loves me a great deal and does so much for me. And for you, in case you've forgotten."

"I... I know," came his defeated response. "All the work he does is for us..."

"I don't think Toru is so busy that he forgets us... Do you perhaps miss your father, Seiya?"

"N-No, I don't!" The boy huffed in your arms, his brows furrowed as he attempted to hide his evidently embarrassed face yet again.

"Your father and I love you very much, Seiya," you said with a smile and a soft hum as you tenderly ran your fingers through your son's hair. You weren't surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and returned your embrace. I suppose he takes after his father in clinginess, too.

"I already know that... But thanks, mom."

[puppyeared]

save me old flipnote studio MVs.......

[magentagalaxies]

vent incoming:

got my grades back for my courses last semester and most of it was to be expected, mostly A's, maybe an A-, etc. but i honestly can't get over the fact that my independent study (the buddy cole documentary) was for some reason given a B. like sure getting a B isn't bad per se, I usually get at least one B every semester and i honestly don't really care about what my exact gpa is as long as i can graduate, but come on. this school put me through months of psychological torment over this project and didn't even have the nerve to give me a B+??? i'm still coping with the self-doubt they forced on me and this bullshit is not helping!!

[ringneckedpheasant]

my favorite regular from The Before Times has started working near [redacted] again so i’ve seen her twice this week & today she said tht she told her kids i was back & her 13 (?) y/o actually screamed & her 5 (?) y/o was begging to go to [redacted] to see me at like. 10pm. I haven’t worked there for a year & a half it’s so sweet that they remember me 🥺😭

[thmollusk]

me and my autism vs. the aba therapy supporting autism and disability awareness hr person at my work who will win

[c0rpsedemon]

ok fr last one but there's actually a bootleg of my school's anastasia and i'm linking it bc you all NEED to understand that my infatuation with this one girl's voice which started when i was in the 6th grade and still hasn't really worn off isn't based on nothing

[minakoainosupremacy]

I’m sad, I’ve had a bunch of fun cool ideas sitting in the back of my head since like new years which I wanted to use for rare pair week, but like life has been kicking my ass so I didn’t have time to even start anything and now it’s over :( guess they will just keep living in my head until next year

[southislandwren]

i was talking to my coworker and we were joking about how much the school farm sucked and i was like yeah lol sometimes i'd be drivign and think like lol what if i just crashed my car right now.... anyway someone tell me if that was too much for my very normal coworker. she thought it was funny though

[gideonisms]

sometimes you will have a period of your life that is so good for your ego and so bad for absolutely everything else

[ghastbutlikegay]

ouhhh the time loop......

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with? 

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy. 

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few:  I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail,  @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors,  the sweetness of @bevsi’s art,  @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts,  @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art,  @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art,  and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

[luveline]

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

My take on stalker!Tim:

Robin!Jason gets distracted during a patrol and doesn’t meet up with Batman, who panics is mildly concerned. Jason doesn’t want to reveal the real reason he got distracted (could be something he was working on for Bruce or just him being a cute baby nerd) so he makes something up the spot. A kid! He saw a kid. It was definitely child shaped. And. Uh. Photography! That’s right, he saw a kid taking photos and made sure he got home safe.

Batman: Photography?

Robin!Jason: Yeah, uh, nighttime photography.

Batman: At midnight?

Robin: I mean, it’s not a school night.

Batman: What were they taking pictures of?

Robin, panicking and going to the first thing he can think of ch just so happens to be last Sunday when Dick called Bruce an emotionally repressed furry: Uh, wildlife?

Bruce is skeptical but honestly he’s seen weirder things even tonight so as long as the kid got home safe…

Jason proceeds to use this same excuse a few more times.

Batman: Don’t tell me, it was the kid again.

Robin!Jason: You just missed him.

Batman, who isn’t feeling strong parental feelings at all: Hrn.

Okay so then fast forward a few years. Jason is on his little murder training gap year and Tim has shown up to the manor trying to fix the disaster that is currently Bruce Batman Wayne. Dick, trying to bond with the kid now that it’s apparent he’s not going anywhere, asks what Tim’s interests are.

Tim: Well, I like photography, and…

Dick, putting two and two together and getting forty-seven: Ohmygosh you’re the kid.

Tim: The what now?

Dick: The kid with the wildlife photography.

Tim, thinking about that one competition he entered a year ago: Uh, I guess?

Dick thinks that’s how Tim figured out all their identities. He thinks he has it all figured out. He does not. Bruce now thinks he has it figured out too. He does not. Tim is unaware there was something to be figured out. Jason is off learning the finer points of poisoning or something idk.

So skip forward some more and Jason is back, minus some murder attempts or whatever because this is crack, and Dick is now trying to get his two brothers comfortable with each other. It is not working. Finally, Dick remembers they’ve definitely met before.

Dick: So, do you remember meeting Tim before?

Jason, whose memory resembles Swiss cheese but is fairly certain he never met Tim before now: Uh…

Dick: He’s the kid! The one with the wildlife photography!

Jason, suddenly remembering the excuse he used several times as Robin: The what now?

Tim, knowing full well that Jason was very dead at the time he submitted anything in a wildlife category: The what now?

Jason pulls Tim into a hall closet to interrogate him about this.

Tim: There’s like five rooms right here that no one has stepped in in a month. Why are we in a closet?

Jason: What, exactly, did Dick mean by you were the one with the wildlife photography, because I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse I made up but now I don’t know.

They figure it out. They also agree to just let that belief be. Jason doesn’t want to admit he made that all up. Tim doesn’t want to admit he thought Dick had gone to his art competition thing before they even officially met. Tim also doesn’t want to explain how he actually figured out their identities because this sounds way cooler. So they decide to just roll with it.

Damian shows up and tries to hunt down Tim’s early photos of Batman. Tim and Jason get really into making it look like he just keeps missing it. Barbara knew about all of this the entire time but no one asked her so she didn’t bother to fill them in.

Everyone else that joins the family after that point and hears the story of Jason and Tim supposedly meeting while Jason was Robin has the exact same response: “Oh, ‘cause Batman’s a furry. Right.”