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jillsandwhichs · 5 months ago

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Between you and me

Chapter 4 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Joel is your dad's best friend, he has been since you were a bit younger. Now, you're a College student and Joel still works with your father and is still close with him. Little does your dad know, you and Joel have a little something on the side

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Complicated

WC: 3.4k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Reader is early 20s & Joel is late 30s, Degrading kink, Blowjob, He cums in your mouth, Making out, Light spanking, Unprotected P in V, Missionary, Pinning & He finishes inside of you

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You had your earbuds in as you were listening to your study playlist. The current song playing was called 'Take on Me' by A-Ha; It is one of your favorite classics. Currently, you're studying for an environmental science test you have to take in class. Your major has literally nothing to do with it so you have to study extra hard considering you don't know much about the subject. The test is tomorrow morning-just great.

You've been home alone all day.

Your father works from the earlier hours of the morning until the later hours of the day. He is a contractor, he has been since you were a little girl. Ever since your mother, his wife, left the two of you, he's been awfully career focused.

It isn't necessarily a bad thing but you miss your father dearly, all the time. You're glad he's working though, it's a massive distraction. Your mother left the two of you a little over three years ago. Within that time, a lot has changed. You and your dad have grown more distant. You two are close, yes, but he's been too down in the dumps. You've told him numerous times to just go on a dating site or ask a pretty lady out but he completely shuts it down immediately.

That doesn't matter right now though, you have to get it off of your mind.

You've been studying for what feels like forever and you're getting awfully hungry-you've hardly ate today. You tend not to. The stress of school causes you to forget to. You know your dad will be home soon, it's possible he'll bring home some dinner. Practically everyday he does since he can't cook and he also doesn't want to burden you with cooking either.

Until he's home, you'll just focus on your school work.

You've been flipping through this damned pamphlet for like an hour and have gotten barley any progress done. It's hard to. You've got so many things on your mind. Your mother, your friends, Joel...

Shit, Joel...

He floods your mind constantly.

Admittedly, you've been hooking up with your dad's best friend. It started back in June-it is September now.

It was when he picked you up from Campus one day. Your dad had asked him to, trusted him to-you two fucked in his truck. You think about it often and how it all went down. One second he was driving, the next he was fingering you then he was deep inside of you as you rode him hard & fast. You'd never came like that before. That dick has some powers or something.

Then it happened again when you dropped lunch off to your dad at work.

Joel caught and glimpse of you and pretended to want to show you something in his little office then boom, he had you in his desk as he pounded into you.

You can't help but think about him. You get so wet at the simple mere thought of him. He knows what he does to you; He knows damn well. Whenever you two sext, he makes sure you cum just by his stupid, slutty messages.

You haven't seen him in a week or so and you two haven't hooked up since the last time which was when he fucked you at his place. You had lied to your dad, telling him you were going over to your friend McKennas house but truly, you headed over the Joel's. That's where he ate you out so good then fucked you, lovingly and passionately. You miss it. You miss him.

Suddenly, you heard your dad calling for you from downstairs. It sounded like he was in the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, I'm home, I brought you some dinner!" Yay! You were happy now and you can finally have a break-you totally deserve it. "Coming!" You shouted. You stood up and shut your music off, shutting your bedroom door as you exited it. You stammered down the stairs with haste, excited to eat. It smelt like Mexican food, you could smell it anywhere. You usually get the chimichanga with orange rice, it is heavenly!!!

Hopping off of the last step, you adjusted your tank top and walked through the open archway that led into the kitchen. On the marble island counter, you saw a bag of food and assumed yours was in there too. You glanced over at the brown table in the dining room and saw your dad. "Hi!" You said with a gleeful voice. You treaded to the bag and began to go through it, grabbing out the package with your name written on it. "Hi darling." Your dad said softly, he was already eating.

Were you two about to have an actual father-daughter dinner together? This is bound to end up in the history books.

You brought your container over to the table and right as you were about to sit down, a pair of fingers wrapped around the chair. You knew those fingers immediately-they were inside of you not to long ago. What the hell is Joel doing here? "Oh yeah, forgot to say something, Joel is here. He offered to put your new dresser together. You know I would darling but I have paperwork to do in my Study." This is just your fucking luck.

"Hey." Joel whispered, gazing at you. "Hi Joel." You breathed in deeply. The eye contact between the two of you was intense and clearly had sexual tension hosted in it. Your father cleared his throat and pointed at the chair. Joel pulled it out for you and you sat down and began to eat.

"I can get started on the dresser now. Where's it at?" Joel asked your father. "Just upstairs in her room. First door on your right." "Alrighty." Joel nodded and walked off.

You couldn't believe your goddamn dad let Joel go into your room to build your dresser. At this point, you'd rather do it yourself. It's not that you dislike Joel, not at all, but it's so difficult to be around the man. He makes you so aroused so easily. You practically need him.

You cut into a piece of the food and took a bite, chewing quickly. Your father was eating his dinner as well, he ordered some tacos, that's his usual. "How was work?" You asked. "Boring. We had to men fired today, bout goddamn time." You nodded at his words. "How's College been?" "Stressful." "You're a smart girl, I bet you're doing amazing." Your father praised you which honestly felt amazing.

"I have a test tomorrow on environmental science, I'm frustrated studying for it." "I'd help if I could but I never took that class. Just try your best, my dear, you'll do just fine." You were grateful for his confidence in you.

The food was really good, especially the rice. It felt great to finally eat. "Is your food good?" "Yeah dad, thank you for getting me some." "Of course." He welcomed you. You continued to eat. There was an urge though-an urge to go and check on Joel. Not necessarily check up on him, rather jump in his pants. You need him, the urge is present and so very clear.

You decided to eat a bit more before you'd excuse yourself.

"I was thinking that this weekend I'll stay over at Lydia's." "Lydia? You haven't spoken of her in a while." Wow! He actually noticed! There's a dad point for him. "Yeah well, girls fight, it's what we do. I miss her though. We want to see that new movie." "Do you need any money?" "No thanks dad, I have some." You assured him. In all actuality, Joel gave you some money recently, he enjoys spoiling you.

You scooped up some rice and ate it, chewing more slowly now. You didn't want to seem as if you were in a rush, that would just make this dinner awkward. You love your father, truly, you don't want to make him feel as though you want to get away from him. Your yearn for Joel is just so much more.

"We should have Chinese food tomorrow." You giggled, sipping from your water bottle. "That's funny because I was going to order that tonight but I switched last minute." Your dad chuckled. "We can definitely have Chinese tomorrow." You two smiled at each other. You love spending time with your dad like this.

After taking a couple more bites, you cleared your throat and sipped your water. "Dad, I'm gonna go help Joel. I feel bad after all, I could be building it." A little white lie can take you far. "Sure thing darling, I'll put your food away. I'll just be in the basement doing my work, ok? Holler if you need me, either one of yous." "Got it. Love you, thanks for dinner, it was tasty." You kissed your dad on the head and rushed up the stairs; So much for not seeming urgent.

You heard the sound of shuffling as you walked up the stairs. He must've already started working. You were nervous. You two haven't talked one on one in a bit.

Entering your bedroom, you saw Joel's burly figure kneeled as he was screwing some pieces together. He looked up at you with a smirk before talking, "Hey sweet thing." "Hi Joel." You kneeled down beside him. There were screws and other random teeny parts beside him. He was determined to get this dresser complete for you. There was also a toolbox a few inches from his body.

"Do you need any help?" "Not at all, this is easy." "Okay." You chuckled. You were extra nervous now, very much on edge. The tension between you two was something else. You wish you had the balls to just make a move.

The dresser appeared to only be in the beginning stages of completion. It wasn't surprising, he only started minutes ago. "Thank you for doing this." "S'okay, anytime, anything for you." He hummed.

You finally built the courage to say something to him, anything. Anything that would indicate you yearned for him, longed for him.

Joel stood up and walked over to your other dresser, grabbing some random miscellaneous tool. "I've been thinking about you." You admired. You were still on your knees, just looking up at him as he stared down at you. "That a fact?" "Mhm." You nodded. "Been thinkin' 'bout you too baby." Joel whispered. You looked behind you and scooted over to your bedroom door, closing it & locking it all while remaining on your knees.

"You have?" "I always am." Joel grunted, ambling towards you. You wanted him even more now. He's so attractive, so sexy. "What have you been thinking about?" "You know... Your face, your body, your touch and how good it would feel if you had me down your throat." He was such an ass in the best way possible. You giggled and looked down at his crotch area. He was wearing his work pants with a leather belt. "Is that what you want?" "Hm?" "For me to give you a blowjob?" You said seductively, slowly inching your way towards him.

He got the hint and chuckled. "What if your dad hears?" "He won't, he said he's going down to his study." You reassured him. Your hands were already at his belt. He scoffed and snickered. "Such a dirty girl, you're so needy." He slightly degraded you. He knows you're into it. "You need me down your throat." Joel grunted. You messed with his belt till you tossed it to the side, quickly pulling his stained jeans down along with his briefs.

His erect cock sprung out. He was rock hard. He's also so big, so long, so girthy. You've never had it so good. You gazed up at him, your eyes locking with his dark brown eyes. You licked your lips sexually and bit the lower one-pre-cum squirting out of his tip as you did. "Goddamn baby." He groaned, admiring you. You smiled and looked down at his member. It was directly in front of you, just waiting to feel your pretty wet lips around it. You did in fact need him down your throat. You want to feel his warm seed seep down your tight throat.

You wrapped your pink lips around his pale tip. You licked up his pre-cum, allowing it to coat your tongue. You heard him moan from above you. It's adorable how easily you get him going. He tasted amazing. "You're so pretty." He whispered, standing still and just letting you do your thing.

You shoved your head forward, taking him deep in your mouth. His cock is so big, you practically feel like you're choking on him anytime you blow him off; He loves it though. You held onto the base of his dick as you sucked him off, occasionally looking up at him. The first time you glanced up, his eyes were closed due to the intense pleasures but the second time, he was looking down at you. The look in his eyes was dark and stern. He looks so sexy when he's horny.

"Choke on me baby, that's it, good girl." Joel praised you. You love that too. You share not only a degrading kink, but a praising one too-you are a two in one deal.

Bobbing your head forward and backwards, you began to move it faster. You couldn't wait to feel him release. Him cum doesn't taste bad. You love it. You're obsessed with Joel in a way words couldn't describe. It's hard to explain. You don't particularly think you love him or are in love with him but... Maybe? You licked his tip, then all the way down his hardened dick, earning a twitch out of it. "Feels so damn good." He muttered, his hand going to your hair, the other remaining at his side.

The sounds of you gagging on his dick filled the room. Your spit was all around him and dripping onto the floor-you couldn't help it. He made a 'tsk' noise.

"Oh pretty baby, drooling for me, hm?" He teased. With his hand in your hair, he tugged your head upwards so you'd be looking at him. The grip he had on your hair was firm. "I'm gonna cum." Joel grunted, pushing your head for you now. All you did was use your tongue. You just kept slurping and sliding your wet tongue along the base of his length.

With only a few more licks & sucks, you felt his warm, gooey fluid flood down your throat. Like the good girl you are, you swallowed every last drop for him. "Jesus Christ..." He panted out, still holding your soft, silky hair. "That's it darlin'." Joel murmured.

You pulled away, wiping away the excess cum from your lips, cleaning them off. You looked up at him with watery eyes and he cooed. "Come here princess." You listened, you couldn't. You can't resist him.

As you began to lift yourself up, he pulled you into him. Your lips pressed against his. His hands went to your ass cheeks, squeezing both of them as he slipped his tongue into your wet, needy mouth. "Mmph." You moaned, caressing his scruff as the two of you made out passionately. You loved feeling his tongue in your mouth-you could just think about it flicking your clit. "Need to fuck you." He growled, bringing his hand to your ass, hard.

You giggled against his lips, sliding your tongue along his.

"Do you think you could be quick & quiet." "I know I can, the question is, can you?" Joel teased, caressing your ass as the two of you made out. It felt so good, so pleasurable. Yes, you could. Anything for him. You nodded, indicating you could. You seriously need him-now.

Joel practically tossed you onto your bed. You snickered and pulled your shorts down, along with your panties. Joel's eyes were stuck on your lower half the entire time, he was clearly enthralled. "Are you going to sit there and gawk or fuck me?" You bit your lip, laying your head against your soft, large pillows. He scoffed and mounted you, his arms holding himself up on either side of you. "This what you want babygirl?" "You know I want it, I need it." You were basically begging at this point.

With a chuckle, Joel pumped himself a couple times before aligning his cock with your entrance. You were still beyond soaked-it'd be enough lubricant. You were a bit nervous. With your father in the same house, just two stories below, he could potentially hear the two of you. You'll just pray for the best; Joel can keep you silent.

You winced slightly as he pushed his girthy dick inside of you, it was extremely hard; You were surprised he was able to come back from his high so quickly. "Joel..." You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know baby, I know." He grunted, becoming used to the feeling of your tight cunt around him. "Missed this." He whispered to you. He brought himself down to your face, kissing you a few times before he began to thrust into you at a decent pace, knowing you could take it.

With every movement, you could feel him going deeper inside of you. His cock rubbed so well against your clenched walls. You needed this, and you got it. You love it whenever he fucks you; You go dumb on his dick.

You couldn't help but watch his face, the way it contorted and shifted. You are honored by the way you're able to make him feel. He gets pussy drunk so easily. "You're so damn tight." He groaned, his mouth agape as he stared down at you. The stare the two of you shared was loving and lustful. You two needed each other. You would've never imagined you'd be getting fucked by your dad's friend but, here you are. Here the two of you are.

As he picked up the pace, his force got rougher. His pelvis was slamming into you; Your thighs will definitely be bruised after this. Your bed was slightly creaking to, but not loud enough to where your father may hear. "Just like that." You whined. Your head tilted backwards. The pleasure is immense, it's so much.

Joel slowly removed your arms from around your neck as he pinned them to the bed. You love being able to touch him just as much as you love being restrained. "Wish we could do this more often," Joel hummed, "I love seeing you like this baby." He added on. You giggled, gazing at him. "I need this more often." "Ya, you do, don't ya?" Joel was so cocky. "Need me inside of you, always." You moaned at his words. He isn't wrong.

At this point, he was pounding into you. Every thrust, every slip & slide, every movement in general was bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

"You feel so fuckin' good."

"I wanna see you cum around me."

"Gonna fill this pretty pussy up."

Each sentence also brought you closer. He is such a dirty man.

"Look at you, lookin' dumbed out as I fuck you."

"Just a little dirty slut."

"Keep takin' it darlin'."

Every. Sentence.

"I think I'm gonna cum." You whined. You attempted to get your wrists out of his grasp but your attempts were futile. "Please, don't stop." You begged, closing your eyes tightly. "Mmm, cum for me." And just like that, you did. Just by his words, you can so easily finish.

You moaned softly. Your entire back arched as your orgasm washed over you. You could feel your already tight walls clench further, and that only helped Joel cum sooner. You felt his semen spill inside of you, marking it's territory. "Goddammit." You heard Joel mumble under his breath.

Both of you were shaking with pleasure as you two both came down from your high. Sadly, no aftercare can happen, your father is just downstairs-no risks.

"That was perfect." Joel whispered, leaning up at kissing your nose, then your forehead. You laughed and breathed in deeply, "I'll be thinking of this next time I touch myself." "Oh babygirl, you better." Joel snickered, kissing you passionately before unfortunately having to pull away.

"C'mon sweet thing, let's get dressed before your daddy comes up here." "Ugh, alright." You obliged.

What a perfect evening...

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #smut #tumblr fyp

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infinitexdarkness · 24 days ago

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Leon Kennedy Headcannons

(I'm imagining Re6, Infinite Darkness, and Death Island for this one)

SFW Headcannons!

He really really cares about his hair. He uses the whole works, pomade, mousse, texturizing powder, everything. He acts like he doesn’t care about it, but if someone messes up his hair, he’s really irritated since he spent so long on it to look nice and shiny…

He doesn’t care much about his body wash, but you won’t see him playing about his skin care. I think before re6, he doesn’t really care for his skincare, but in death island, he has a long ass routine. Sometimes, Sherry likes to put face masks on him, and he just tolerates it because he loves to see her happy. :)

His cologne is expensive. You smell him, and you feel broke already. But on missions, he’s borderline gross.. He smells like BO and blood, which at first isn’t too bad, but he slowly starts smelling more gross… In re4 I just KNOW he smells RANCID.

He doesn’t care much about fashion, but he definitely has really nice leather jackets. He cares a lot about them, and will take upwards of 10 to 20 minutes thinking about what leather jacket to wear with what cologne. After that though, he’ll throw on a random shirt with random pants and boots, he doesn’t really care about those as much.

He uses apple music, and listens to music like daughtry, shinedown, three days grace, linkin park etc. Of course, he’d also listen to more 80s music since he would’ve grown up during the 80s to 90s, but I think his favorite is divorced dad rock he can cry to when he’s drunk.

He has a photo of Ada in his phone that he looks at when he’s drunk, thinking sadly about what their lives could’ve been together if September 30th had never happened. If she never worked for Umbrella, if he was never in Raccoon City. If they had the chance to be normal.

I think Leon also has a photo of Sherry in his phone, though. I’d say his gallery has a total of maybe 15 images, since he doesn’t really have time to be on his phone much, due to his job and how busy he is. Sometimes, when he’s sad, or thinking of ending things, he thinks back to Sherry and looks at the photo, and decides not to, for her.

I see soo many fanfics where he’s charismatic and stuff with women, but that is not true.. What happened to ‘Though generally a cool character, he tends to be awkward around women.’ I know the first time he ever got sexual with a woman, he was sweating so bad and could barely got off the edge of the bed, let alone touch her. xD

Leon DEFINITELY has a thing for older women, 100%. I think he feels an urge to protect anyone younger than him, so older definitely feels better, and less straining on him.

NSFW Headcannons!

He’s not cut, since he’s italian-american, and that’s not really common in Italy. I think it’d be about 5 ½ inches soft, 7 inches hard. It’s a tan color, a little darker than his regular skin color, and the tip is a rosy red color. There’s also prominent veins : )

He’s not a very big fan of biting, since it reminds him of zombies, but he likes leaving marks in other ways. Ways to show that you’re his, and his only. He leaves slight bruises on your hips from his grip, though not to hurt you. He also leaves hickeys, but again, no biting.

He’s a grunter. He curses under his breath, and tries to be quiet, though when he’s worked up, he’ll bury his head in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his moans. He also says a lot of ‘I love you’s during sex.

He prefers making love instead of ‘sex’. Hookups aren’t a big thing to him, since he’s used to people using him. He’s almost asexual fully, due to that idea. But once he meets someone he really likes, he’s attracted to them, because they’re them.

He’s gentle, and is never rough, unless not on purpose. He’s slow in his movements, and soft, like you’re a piece of glass. He doesn’t wanna hurt you like he’s been hurt so many times in his life, he wants to show you how much he cares.

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okasuka · 27 days ago

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Uhhhhh drabble stuff

Tw : mentions of self harm, light drug use.

First Day Back

The early September morning was crisp, the kind that teased of autumn but still held onto the warmth of summer. Gotham Academy’s imposing gates were buzzing with activity as students reunited, exchanging stories about vacations, internships, or simply surviving another year.

Standing just outside the gate, you adjusted the strap of your bag nervously. You glanced down at your reflection in a nearby car window, making sure your slightly messy brown hair—with its signature red streak—wasn’t too unruly. Not that you cared much about appearances, but first days had a way of bringing out old insecurities.

Your eyes darted through the sea of uniforms, searching for one face in particular. Then you saw him.

Damian Wayne strode toward the gates, his posture as impeccable as ever, his green eyes scanning the crowd with that calm yet calculating intensity you’d come to love. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his tie immaculate, and his dark hair neat and slicked back —practically screaming “perfectly put-together Wayne heir.” But then his eyes landed on you, and that trademark stoicism softened, just enough for a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Y/N,” he greeted as he approached, his voice steady but warmer than usual.

“Damian!” you called, your grin lighting up your face as you dropped your bag to the ground and rushed toward him. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

To anyone watching, Damian Wayne being hugged in public might have seemed like a scandal waiting to happen, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he let out a barely audible sigh and placed his hands gently on your back, hugging you in return.

“It’s only been two weeks since we last saw each other,” he murmured, though you caught the hint of amusement in his tone.

“Two weeks is an eternity when you’re my best friend and my boyfriend,” you shot back, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “Did you miss me?”

His green eyes met yours, steady and sincere. “More than you’ll ever know,” he replied, and while his voice was quiet, you could tell he meant it.

You beamed at him before reaching up to ruffle his perfectly combed hair. “And here I thought you’d come back looking all stoic and business-like. Guess I haven’t lost my touch.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly to smooth his hair down. “And here I thought you’d be less insufferable after a few weeks apart.”

“Please, you’d miss me if I wasn’t,” you teased, leaning down to grab your bag.

As the two of you walked toward the main building, you noticed some of your classmates whispering and glancing your way. While Damian ignored them entirely, you rolled your eyes. “You’d think people would be over it by now. What, do they think I’m not good enough for the Damian Wayne or something?”

“They can think what they like,” Damian replied smoothly. “Their opinions are irrelevant. Besides…” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re more than good enough. You know that.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you quickly changed the subject to avoid getting too flustered. “So, what’s our schedule looking like? We still have most of our classes together, right?”

Damian pulled out his neatly folded timetable. “Mathematics, English, World History, and, unfortunately, Chemistry with Professor Clark. I presume you’ve heard about his… ‘enthusiastic’ teaching style.”

You groaned dramatically. “Great. Guess I’m going to need you to keep me from blowing up the lab this year.”

“If you pay attention and follow instructions, I won’t need to intervene,” Damian said with a smirk.

“Oh, like you’re not going to spend half the time criticizing my technique,” you quipped.

“Only if it’s necessary,” he replied coolly, but you could see the faintest glint of humor in his eyes.

As you entered the school and made your way to your lockers, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it all felt. The teasing, the banter, the unspoken understanding between the two of you. It was going to be a good year—you could feel it.

“I’ll walk you to first period,” Damian said, closing his locker and adjusting his bag strap.

You grinned. “What a gentleman. Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

And with that, the two of you headed down the hallway, side by side, ready to take on another year—together.

As you and Damian stepped into your first-period class, you were relieved to find most of the seats still empty. You scanned the room quickly, looking for two seats side by side.

“Do you see any—?” you started, but Damian was already ahead of you.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a pair of seats in the middle of the room.

But before you could move, a group of students rushed past, snagging the spots you were eyeing.

“Seriously?” you muttered, glancing around again. The only open seats left were scattered across the room, none close enough to sit together.

Damian’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunate.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll survive one class apart. I’ll sit…” Your eyes landed on an empty seat next to a familiar face, a boy from your grade named Logan. He was nice enough—a little flirty sometimes, but harmless. “There.”

Damian’s gaze flicked to Logan and narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll take the one near the window,” he said, his tone clipped.

You hesitated. “You sure?”

“I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he replied, already walking to his seat.

You shrugged and made your way over to Logan, who greeted you with a grin. “Hey, Y/N. Long time no see.”

“Hey, Logan,” you said, sliding into the chair next to him. “Ready for another year of torture?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he joked. “Especially if it means sitting next to you.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “Smooth.”

The teacher, Mr. Daniels, walked in and began droning on about classroom expectations, but it wasn’t long before you started to feel lost in the lecture. Chemistry wasn’t exactly your strong suit, and the formulas on the board looked like a foreign language.

You leaned over toward Logan. “Hey, do you get this?” you whispered, pointing to your notes.

Logan smirked, lowering his voice. “Not really, but I’ll pretend I do if it helps.”

You snorted softly. “Wow, so helpful.”

Before you could ask another question, Mr. Daniels cleared his throat loudly, his eyes narrowing on you. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his voice sharp. “Do you mind not flirting in my class and actually paying attention?”

Your jaw dropped. “I—what?”

The class chuckled, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you stammered, “I wasn’t flirting! I was asking for help!”

Logan, however, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “I don’t know, Y/N. Sounded like flirting to me.”

The room erupted in laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning.

From his seat by the window, Damian’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched tightly as he watched Logan bask in the attention. It wasn’t like you to flirt with anyone, but the way Logan played along—and how the teacher called it out—was enough to irritate him.

When the laughter finally died down, you muttered to Logan, “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink.

Meanwhile, Damian’s grip on his pen tightened. He forced himself to focus on the board, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you and Logan. The way Logan looked at you, the way he leaned just a little too close—it was infuriating.

By the time the bell rang, Damian was already out of his seat, waiting for you by the door.

You approached him, still grumbling under your breath. “Can you believe Mr. Daniels? Flirting? Seriously?”

“Hardly,” Damian said, his tone sharper than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Whoa. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, though his eyes betrayed his irritation. “But perhaps next time, you should direct your questions to someone more reliable.”

You raised an eyebrow, realizing what this was about. “Are you… jealous?”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but his ears turned slightly red. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You smirked, leaning closer. “You are. Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” he said, brushing past you. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for the next class.”

Laughing, you hurried to catch up. “You’re jealous,” you sang teasingly, and while Damian didn’t respond, the way his shoulders stiffened told you everything you needed to know.

As the second-period bell rang, you and Damian made your way to your next class—World History. The classroom was much smaller than the last one, and you were relieved to see an empty pair of desks near the middle of the room.

“Looks like we’re stuck together this time,” you teased as you slid into your seat.

Damian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he placed his bag down with practiced precision, his expression unusually stoic.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “What’s with the silent treatment?”

“I’m simply focusing on the lesson ahead,” he replied curtly, not meeting your gaze as he pulled out his notebook.

You blinked at his tone, a flicker of irritation rising in your chest. “Right. Of course. Damian Wayne, ever the diligent student,” you muttered, opening your own notebook with a bit more force than necessary.

His eyes darted toward you briefly, but he said nothing.

The teacher started the lecture, droning on about ancient civilizations, but you couldn’t focus. Damian’s cold demeanor was grating on you, especially after how playful and sweet he’d been that morning.

About twenty minutes into the lesson, you turned to him, keeping your voice low. “Okay, what’s your deal? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No,” he replied, not looking up from his notes. “Perhaps I’m simply preoccupied.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Preoccupied with what? Chemistry? Or the fact that I asked Logan for help?”

That got his attention. He glanced at you, his green eyes sharp. “If you’re aware of how inappropriate your behavior was, I fail to see why you’re asking me.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “Are you serious right now? I wasn’t flirting, Damian. I was asking a question.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered under his breath, scribbling something in his notebook.

Your patience snapped. “Wow. Okay, so what, you don’t trust me now? Is that it?”

His pen froze mid-sentence, and he finally turned to look at you fully. “It’s not a matter of trust, Y/N. It’s—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he was struggling to find the right words.

“It’s what?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

Damian hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s infuriating to watch someone else act so… familiar with you. Especially when they clearly enjoy pushing boundaries.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his tone. “Damian, Logan wasn’t pushing boundaries. He’s just a naturally flirty guy, and I don’t take him seriously. You know that, right?”

Damian’s gaze hardened. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t take him seriously. The fact remains that he’s disrespectful. And I don’t appreciate having to sit there while he makes a joke out of our relationship.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Damian, I can handle Logan. He’s harmless, and he doesn’t mean anything by it. But this?” You gestured between the two of you. “You snapping at me and acting all cold? It’s not fair.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “Perhaps it isn’t fair, but—”

“Exactly,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “It’s not fair. And it’s not me you should be upset with. If you have a problem with Logan, take it up with him, not me.”

Damian exhaled sharply, the tension in his posture barely easing. “You’re right,” he admitted, though his tone was reluctant. “But I can’t help it, Y/N. I… I don’t like sharing your attention.”

Your annoyance softened at his admission, and you gave him a small smile. “Damian, you’re my boyfriend. You already have my attention—more than anyone else. Logan’s just a friend. He doesn’t even come close to you.”

His gaze flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the usual confidence in his demeanor faltered. “I know that. Logically. But…”

“But emotions don’t always listen to logic,” you finished for him.

He nodded, his expression softening. “Precisely.”

You reached over and placed a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Look, I get it. I’d probably feel the same way if someone was acting flirty with you. But you have to trust me, okay? If Logan ever crosses a line, I’ll shut it down. No one comes between us.”

Damian studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours before he finally relaxed. “I do trust you,” he said quietly. “I’m… sorry for being difficult.”

“Apology accepted,” you said with a teasing grin. “But you owe me for making me look like the bad guy in World History.”

He smirked faintly. “I’ll make it up to you. Perhaps a visit to the Gotham Art Museum after school?”

You raised an eyebrow. “As long as you’re not trying to bribe me into forgetting about this.”

“Of course not,” he replied smoothly. “It’s simply… a gesture of goodwill.”

You chuckled, the tension between you finally dissipating. “You’re impossible, Damian Wayne.”

“And yet, you still tolerate me,” he said, his voice lighter now.

“More than that,” you said, leaning closer. “I love you. Even when you’re being jealous and stubborn.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “The feeling is mutual.”

With that, the two of you turned back to the lesson, the earlier tension replaced by the quiet comfort of understanding—and the promise of a much better day ahead.

After the school day ended, you and Damian walked to the car waiting to take you both to Wayne Manor. The ride was quiet but comfortable, the tension from earlier long forgotten. Damian had even let his hand rest lightly on yours during the drive, a subtle but sweet gesture that made your heart flutter.

As the car pulled into the circular driveway, the grand silhouette of Wayne Manor loomed above you. You grabbed your bag and followed Damian up the steps.

“Do you ever get tired of living in a castle?” you teased as he opened the massive front doors.

“It’s hardly a castle,” Damian replied with a faint smirk. “Though it does have its advantages.”

As you stepped inside, the warm interior of the manor greeted you. Alfred appeared almost immediately, as if he’d been expecting you both.

“Master Damian, Miss Y/N,” Alfred said with a polite nod. “Welcome back. I trust your first day of school went well?”

“Uneventful,” Damian said simply, shrugging off his bag and handing it to Alfred.

“Eventful,” you corrected, grinning. “But in a good way. Thanks for asking, Alfred.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he turned to you. “I’m relieved to hear it, Miss Y/N. I’ve prepared some refreshments in the living room if you’d like to relax.”

“Thanks, Alfred!” you said before glancing at Damian. “Wanna go chill for a bit?”

Damian nodded, but before you could take a step, a deep voice interrupted.

“Y/N, good to see you,” Bruce said, walking into the foyer. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his usual air of authority surrounding him.

“Mr. Wayne!” you said, smiling brightly. You’d always been a bit in awe of Bruce Wayne, but he’d long since made you feel welcome in his home. “How’s everything going?”

“Busy, as always,” Bruce said, offering a faint smile. “And no need for the formalities, Y/N. You’re practically family.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the comment, but before you could respond, Bruce glanced at his watch, his expression turning serious. “I’d love to catch up more, but I have a meeting to attend. Damian, Y/N, enjoy yourselves.”

“Good luck with your meeting,” you said with a polite nod, watching as Bruce strode off toward his study.

Damian gestured toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go to the living room.”

You followed him, excited to finally relax after the day’s chaos. Alfred had set out an impressive spread of snacks, including your favorite cookies, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, making the room feel cozy despite its size.

As you plopped down on the couch, Damian sat beside you but noticeably kept some distance. He seemed lost in thought, his brows slightly furrowed, and his usual composed energy felt off.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” you asked, tilting your head to get a better look at him.

Damian blinked, as though he hadn’t realized you were talking. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been… weird,” you said, shifting to face him fully. “Since school ended, you’ve been kind of quiet. Did something happen?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor. “No, nothing happened.”

You frowned. “Damian. Don’t do that thing where you bottle everything up, okay? I can tell something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, a bit more firmly this time. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

His tone stung a little, and you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Right. Of course. Because heaven forbid I try to be a good girlfriend and care about you.”

His eyes snapped to yours, guilt flashing across his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” you pressed, though your voice softened. “I don’t want to push you, Damian, but I also don’t want to sit here and pretend like everything’s fine when it’s obviously not.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you,” you said, smiling faintly. “But I can handle complicated, remember?”

He hesitated again, clearly torn. Finally, he shook his head. “I just… I need some time to think.”

You nodded slowly, though a pang of disappointment hit you. “Okay. If that’s what you need, I’ll give you space.”

“Y/N, it’s not—”

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, standing up. “I get it. Sometimes you need time to sort things out on your own. Just… let me know when you’re ready to talk, okay?”

He looked up at you, his expression conflicted. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you said, grabbing your bag. “I don’t want to hang around and make things awkward for you. Besides, I should probably get some homework done.”

“Y/N,” he said again, standing as if to stop you, but you shook your head.

“It’s okay, Damian,” you said softly. “Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and made your way to the front door, nodding at Alfred on your way out. As the door closed behind you, you let out a quiet sigh.

You cared about Damian deeply, but sometimes, loving him meant giving him the space he needed—even if it hurt to walk away.

You walked out of the manor, each step heavier than the last. The cool evening air hit your face as you descended the grand steps, trying to shake the weight in your chest. You told yourself Damian just needed space—that this wasn’t about you. But the ache in your heart said otherwise.

The car Alfred had arranged was waiting at the end of the drive, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to leave angry or upset, not when there was clearly something Damian wasn’t telling you. Against your better judgment, you turned back, gripping the door handle and pushing it open quietly.

The sound of Damian’s voice drifted down the hall. You paused, peeking into the living room to see him pacing near the fireplace, phone pressed to his ear. His usual sharp posture was rigid, and his tone was sharper than you’d ever heard.

“I told you, I don’t need advice on how to handle my personal life,” Damian snapped, his back to you. “This isn’t about her. She’s just—” He stopped mid-sentence, exhaling harshly. “It’s not like that.”

Your heart sank at his words. He had to be talking about you.

You stepped into the doorway, your voice quiet but firm. “What’s not like that?”

Damian froze, his head whipping around to face you. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then it shifted into something colder, something you hadn’t seen directed at you before.

“I’ll call you back,” he muttered into the phone before ending the call and slipping it into his pocket.

“Y/N,” he said flatly. “I thought you left.”

“I did,” you said, crossing your arms. “But I couldn’t just leave things like this. What’s going on, Damian? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I just heard you.”

He stared at you, his green eyes unreadable. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

The sharpness in his tone cut through you like a knife, but you pressed on. “Why? So you could keep avoiding me? Pretending nothing’s wrong?”

“Maybe it’s because nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“This? You mean us?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Don’t twist my words,” he said coldly. “I don’t need you analyzing everything I say.”

You took a step back, hurt flashing across your face. “I’m not trying to analyze anything, Damian. I just want to understand what’s going on. Why you’ve been acting so distant, so—so cold.”

“Maybe it’s because you don’t understand me as well as you think you do,” he said, his voice cutting like a blade.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “Damian… how can you say that?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, Y/N. I care about you, but sometimes, it feels like being with you is—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening.

“Feels like what?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Say it.”

“Like it’s suffocating,” he finally said, his tone low but firm.

The world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. You stared at him, unable to process what you’d just heard. “Suffocating?”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the floor. “You always want to talk, to fix things, to know every little thought in my head. Sometimes I just need space, Y/N. And you don’t give me that.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I only do that because I care, Damian. Because I love you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

That was the final blow. Your chest tightened painfully, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “I can’t believe you just said that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I thought… I thought we were in this together.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering.

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, searching for any hint of regret or hesitation in his expression, but there was none.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe I should’ve left when I had the chance.”

Damian said nothing as you turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. This time, when you left Wayne Manor, you didn’t look back.

The door closed behind you with a finality that made your heart ache, but you refused to cry—not here, not now. You climbed into the waiting car, gripping your bag tightly as the driver pulled away.

Only then, as Gotham’s streets blurred past the windows, did the tears begin to fall.

The ride home felt endless, even though it was only a short drive. You stared out the window, the Gotham skyline blurred through tear-filled eyes. Every word Damian had said replayed in your head like a broken record. Suffocating. I didn’t ask you to. Maybe we shouldn’t be.

When the car pulled up to your house, you mumbled a quick thanks to the driver and stepped out, your legs feeling like lead. The house was dark and quiet as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The emptiness greeted you like an old friend.

“Dad?” you called out half-heartedly, even though you already knew the answer.

No response.

The faint tick of the clock in the hallway was the only sound as you dropped your bag by the door. You leaned against the wall, staring into the void of your empty home, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

Tears spilled over as you slid down to the floor, burying your face in your hands. The silence amplified your thoughts, every doubt and insecurity creeping in like shadows.

Maybe Damian’s right. Maybe I am too much. Too needy. Too—

You choked on a sob, wrapping your arms around yourself. It felt like you were unraveling, like every part of you was splitting apart.

You stumbled to your room, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto your bed. The walls felt like they were closing in, the loneliness suffocating. You couldn’t stop crying, your body trembling with each sob.

And then, in your darkest moment, the familiar, dangerous thought surfaced. You’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.

Your eyes darted to your desk drawer, where you knew you’d hidden a small, sharp blade months ago. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t need it again—that you were stronger now. But right now, you didn’t feel strong. You felt shattered.

Your hands trembled as you opened the drawer, pulling the blade out. The weight of it in your hand felt heavier than it should have. You stared at it for what felt like forever, your mind spinning with the whirlwind of emotions.

Maybe this will help. Maybe this will make it hurt less.

You pressed the blade against your skin, the sting sharp and immediate. A small line of red appeared, and for a brief moment, the emotional pain seemed to dull. But the relief was fleeting, replaced by guilt and self-loathing that hit you like a tidal wave. You stared at the mark you’d left on your arm, the faint sting a cruel reminder of how far you’d let yourself fall. Tears streamed down your face as you whispered to yourself, “What’s wrong with me?”

The room was suffocating now, the walls closing in on you as your breaths came quicker. You curled into yourself on the bed, clutching your knees to your chest, wishing for the pain to stop. The silence of the house only made it worse.

Why isn’t anyone here? you thought bitterly. But deep down, you knew the answer. Your dad was always at work, and the few friends you had didn’t know how to handle the pieces of you that you kept hidden.

And Damian? The person you trusted most? He’d made it painfully clear where he stood.

The night dragged on, every minute feeling like an eternity. You didn’t sleep, too caught up in your own thoughts, your body aching with exhaustion and despair. By the time morning came, the idea of going to school seemed impossible.

You sent a quick text to the school’s office, pretending to be your dad, saying you were sick. Then you turned your phone off completely, unwilling to face anyone—not even Damian.

Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor

Damian hadn’t slept either.

The moment you walked out the door, regret had started to claw at him. The image of your hurt expression wouldn’t leave his mind, and his words replayed in his head like a haunting echo.

He sat in his room, staring at the ceiling, his hands clenched into fists. He’d thought pushing you away would give him the space he needed to think—to sort through his own feelings—but all it had done was make him realize how much he hated the distance he’d created.

“Suffocating.” The word sounded so harsh now, so untrue. You weren’t suffocating him. You were grounding him, giving him something real in a world full of chaos and masks.

By the time morning arrived, Damian had resolved to apologize. To fix things. He hated admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do it. He couldn’t lose you.

When he got to school and didn’t see you by the gates like usual, unease crept in. By the time first period started and you still hadn’t shown up, his unease turned into worry.

He pulled out his phone under the desk and sent a quick text:

Damian: Where are you?

No response.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the screen as if willing your reply to appear. When the second period came and you were still absent, he finally left the classroom without asking for permission, heading straight to the hallway to make a call.

You didn’t answer.

Damian’s grip tightened on the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

By lunchtime, he was already texting Alfred.

Damian: I need a car to Y/N’s house. Now.

Alfred’s reply came quickly, his usual calm demeanor evident even in text form.

Alfred: Understood, Master Damian. The car will be ready in five minutes.

Damian didn’t bother explaining himself to anyone as he left school, his thoughts consumed by you. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he’d pushed you too far. That his cruel words had broken something in you he didn’t know how to repair.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

The car ride to your house was a blur for Damian. His fingers tapped anxiously on the leather seat as he stared out the window, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He hadn’t heard from you since the previous night, and every second that passed without a response only made the knot in his chest tighter.

When the car pulled up to your house, Damian barely waited for it to stop before getting out. His hand went straight to the key you’d given him months ago, a small token of trust that now felt heavier than ever. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears, before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The silence hit him first. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that made his stomach churn. He closed the door behind him and called out, his voice sharp and edged with worry.

“Y/N?”

No response.

Damian’s jaw clenched as he stepped further inside. The living room was empty, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound. He scanned the space quickly before heading toward your room, his heart hammering harder with each step.

When he opened your bedroom door, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

The room was a chaotic mess. Comics were scattered across the floor, their colorful covers torn and crumpled. A few bookshelves were toppled over, their contents spilling out in disarray. On the bed, torn photographs of the two of you lay in pieces, the edges jagged and angry.

But what made his blood run cold was the small, bloody blade lying on your desk.

Damian’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his mind reeling. The faint smears of dried blood on the metal glinted under the soft light coming through the window.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, his chest tightening as he approached the desk. His hands trembled as he reached out, carefully picking up the blade. The sight of the blood sent a wave of nausea crashing over him.

He dropped it back onto the desk and turned, his sharp eyes scanning the room again. There were no signs of you anywhere—not even a note. His gaze fell on the ripped photos, and he crouched down to pick up a piece.

It was a picture of the two of you at the Gotham Art Museum. Your smile in the photo was radiant, your arm looped through his, while his usually stoic expression held the faintest trace of a smile—an expression you had drawn out of him so effortlessly back then. But now, the photo was torn cleanly in two, your half discarded on the ground while his was crumpled underfoot.

Damian swallowed hard, his chest tightening painfully. His mind raced with questions. Where were you? What had you done? What had he done?

He forced himself to look away from the torn photographs, scanning the rest of the room for clues. His eyes landed on your desk, where your school bag sat unzipped, papers spilling out of it. A few notebooks were scribbled over with angry marks, as if you’d taken a pen and let all your frustration out in jagged lines and furious scratches.

But what caught his attention most was a small notebook lying open on the desk. He hesitated before stepping closer, his hands shaking as he picked it up. The words scrawled across the page in your handwriting made his heart drop.

“I’m not enough.

I’ll never be enough.

Why does it hurt so much?

Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t here anymore.”

The edges of the page were smudged, as if tears had fallen on the ink. Damian’s hands tightened around the notebook as his breath quickened. His usually composed demeanor shattered, panic clawing at his chest.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “Y/N…”

He spun around, searching the room again, as if you might somehow appear if he looked hard enough. The mess around him was overwhelming, every detail screaming of your pain, your anger, your heartbreak. And it was all his fault.

Damian dropped to his knees, his head hanging low as he gripped the notebook tightly. His mind was a storm of regret and guilt, every cruel word he’d said to you echoing in his ears. I didn’t ask you to. Maybe we shouldn’t be.

The blade. The blood. The notebook. The torn photos. It all pointed to one unbearable truth: he had pushed you too far.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Damian felt helpless. He was always the one who had control, who had a plan. But now? Now he didn’t know what to do.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing your number again with trembling hands.

Damian sat on the floor of your room, phone pressed to his ear, waiting—hoping—for you to answer. The ringing dragged on for what felt like forever, each second stretching into eternity. And then, to his shock, the ringing stopped.

For a split second, hope sparked in his chest. But instead of your voice, the call disconnected.

He stared at the screen in disbelief, his heart pounding. You had declined the call.

“Y/N…” he whispered under his breath, panic threatening to overwhelm him.

He immediately stood, his training kicking in. He needed to find you, and fast. Scanning the room one last time, his eyes landed on a map of Gotham pinned to your corkboard. He spotted a circled area near the outskirts of the city—a dense, secluded forest.

He didn’t hesitate. Pulling out his phone, he called Alfred.

“Master Damian,” Alfred answered calmly, though the sharpness in Damian’s tone quickly changed his demeanor.

“I need the car back at Y/N’s house immediately,” Damian said, already moving toward the front door. “And alert Father. I might need backup.”

“Yes, sir. On my way.”

Deep in the Forest

You sat on the damp ground, surrounded by towering trees that blocked out most of the moonlight. The air was cold, biting at your skin through your thin jacket, but you barely noticed. Your hands trembled as you held the small bottle of pills, the weight of it feeling unbearable.

Your eyes were red and swollen from crying, the exhaustion making every thought feel heavier, more suffocating. You glanced down at the pills, your mind swimming with memories of Damian’s words.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Suffocating.”

A fresh wave of tears blurred your vision as you whispered to yourself, “I was trying. I really was.”

You tilted your head back, staring up at the dark canopy of trees above, your voice breaking as you continued. “I just wanted you to love me. But you gave up on me. On us.”

Your voice cracked, and a sob escaped you as you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, the pills rattling softly.

Damian Arrives

The car screeched to a halt near the edge of the forest, and Damian was out the door before Alfred could say a word. He sprinted into the woods, his heart racing as he followed the faint trail you’d left behind. Broken branches, footprints in the mud—signs he was on the right track.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees.

There was no response.

He pushed forward, his sharp eyes scanning the dark surroundings until he spotted you—a faint silhouette sitting on the forest floor. Relief flooded him for a moment, but then his heart sank as he saw the bottle of pills in your hand.

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time.

You froze, your head snapping toward the sound of his voice. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the bottle tighter, your body trembling.

“Stay back, Damian,” you said, your voice shaking but firm.

He slowed his approach, his hands raised slightly in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N. Please… just put the pills down.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “Why are you even here? You made it clear you don’t want me around. So why do you care now?”

“Because I was wrong,” Damian said, his voice cracking in a way that surprised even him. “I was so wrong, Y/N. About everything.”

You stared at him, your grip on the bottle loosening slightly. “You don’t mean that. You said I was suffocating you. That you didn’t need me.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, stepping closer. “I was angry, and I said things I didn’t mean. But I do need you, Y/N. More than I can put into words.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your face. “You don’t need me, Damian. You gave up on me. On us.”

He stopped a few feet away from you, his green eyes filled with a mix of desperation and regret. “I thought pushing you away would protect me. But all it’s done is hurt the one person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… a weapon.”

Your lip quivered as his words hit you. “Damian…”

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please, Y/N, put the pills down.”

You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. Slowly, your grip on the bottle loosened, and it slipped from your hand, landing in the dirt.

Damian closed the distance between you in an instant, dropping to his knees and pulling you into his arms. You sobbed into his chest, your body trembling as he held you tightly, as if letting go would mean losing you forever.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice filled with guilt and pain. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll never give up on you again. I swear.”

You clung to him, the weight of his words finally breaking through the darkness that had consumed you. For the first time in hours, you felt a glimmer of hope—a tiny spark that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

The ride back to your house was quiet, the low hum of the engine filling the heavy silence between you and Damian. You sat in the passenger seat, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stared out the window, your swollen eyes still red from crying. Damian was next to you, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. He glanced at you every few moments, as if afraid you’d vanish if he looked away for too long.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and raw. “I didn’t mean to love you so much,” you whispered, barely audible.

Damian’s hands faltered for a moment on the wheel, his green eyes darting toward you.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry for being too much. For… for making you feel like I was suffocating you.”

His chest tightened at your words, a pang of guilt twisting in his stomach. “Don’t apologize, Y/N,” he said firmly, his voice low. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who hurt you. I was the one who didn’t see how much you were trying. This… all of this… it’s my fault.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill again. “I just wanted to make you happy, Damian. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Damian’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly as he let out a shaky breath. “You do make me happy,” he said, his voice softer now. “More than anyone else ever has. I was too blind to see it before, but I’m not going to make that mistake again. I swear.”

Back at Your House

When you arrived, Damian followed you inside, his presence steady and grounding. The chaos of your room was still overwhelming, but this time, Damian didn’t hesitate.

“Let’s clean this up together,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded numbly, and the two of you worked side by side to pick up the mess. Damian carefully gathered the torn photographs, setting them aside, while you stacked the scattered comics and books. He didn’t rush you or push you to talk, letting the silence between you feel safe instead of suffocating.

Once the room was mostly back in order, Damian turned his attention to you. He gently took your hands in his, his eyes narrowing as he examined the cuts and bruises on your arms.

“These need to be treated,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

You tried to pull your hands back, but he held on gently, his touch steady and reassuring. “Please, Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Damian guided you to sit on the edge of your bed as he retrieved the first-aid kit you kept in the bathroom. He knelt in front of you, his movements careful and precise as he cleaned and bandaged each cut.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I do,” Damian said, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

When he finished, he stayed kneeling in front of you for a moment, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You’re not alone, Y/N,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night

Damian stayed with you, refusing to leave your side. As the night wore on, the two of you ended up lying on your bed, the lights dimmed. You rested your head against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

Tears continued to fall silently down your cheeks, dampening the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, his presence steady and unwavering.

As exhaustion began to take over, your voice broke through the quiet. “Don’t… leave me, Damian,” you mumbled, your words slurred with sleep and raw emotion. “Please…”

His heart clenched, and he tightened his hold on you. “I won’t,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never leave you, Y/N. I promise.”

Your breathing slowed as you finally drifted off to sleep, your tears subsiding. Even in your sleep, your fingers clung to his shirt, as if afraid he’d disappear.

Damian stayed awake for hours, watching over you, his heart heavy with guilt and determination. He’d nearly lost you once, and he vowed to himself that he would never let it happen again.

The next day at school, you felt yourself walking the fine line between pretending to be okay and actually feeling like you could survive another day. The previous night’s events still lingered in your mind, but the warmth of Damian’s presence gave you a sense of reassurance that you hadn’t felt in a while. With him by your side, maybe the world wasn’t so cold after all.

As you entered the school grounds, the familiar chatter of students surrounded you, but you felt like you were walking through a haze. You tried to smile when you saw Damian waiting by your locker, but your stomach still churned with nerves.

“Feeling okay?” Damian asked, his green eyes searching your face with concern.

You nodded, though the words felt hollow. “Yeah. I think I’m alright.”

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. You weren’t fine—not yet. But you didn’t want to burden Damian more.

You walked through the day, the hours dragging on as you tried to push through the heaviness on your heart. It wasn’t until lunch that things took a turn.

You had been sitting at a table in the cafeteria, quietly eating, when you felt the familiar, sharp gaze of a group of girls approach. They had always been the type to poke fun at you when they could—mocking your hair, your clothes, anything that set you apart. But today, they focused on something else.

One of the girls, a blonde with a condescending smile, leaned over the table and grabbed your sleeve, yanking it up to reveal the fresh bandages on your forearms.

“You really thought you could hide these?” she sneered. “What, did you think no one would notice the little ‘cry for help’ on your arms?”

The others giggled, their voices dripping with mockery. You tried to pull your sleeve down, your face flushed with humiliation, but the girl didn’t let go.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she taunted. “Can’t handle the pressure of life? Are you really that fragile?”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as the laughter from the group rang in your ears. You felt small—vulnerable—and everything you’d been holding together from the day before seemed ready to fall apart. You wanted to fight back, to tell them off, but your voice caught in your throat.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the laughter.

“Get your hands off her.”

You looked up to see Damian standing just behind the group, his posture tense, his jaw clenched with anger. The girls froze, the cocky smiles slipping from their faces as they turned to face him.

“Damian,” the blonde girl sneered, her expression turning defensive. “What, are you gonna protect her now?”

Without a word, Damian stepped forward, his green eyes locked onto hers with cold fury. He didn’t shout or raise his voice, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

“If you don’t let go of her sleeve, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said, his voice low but laced with a warning.

The girl hesitated, her confidence wavering under the intensity of Damian’s gaze. The others behind her shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.

The blonde finally released your sleeve, sneering one last time before stepping back. “Whatever,” she muttered. “It’s not like she can even take care of herself anyway.”

Damian stood his ground, his eyes never leaving the group as they slowly retreated. His presence was a shield, protecting you from their cruelty in a way no one else had. When they were finally gone, he turned to face you, his expression softening as his gaze flickered to the bandages on your arms.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of concern.

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to rise. “Yeah. I’m… I’m fine.” But it didn’t feel fine. Your chest still felt tight from the encounter, and the words of those girls continued to echo in your mind.

Damian stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Y/N. I’m here. And I won’t let anyone hurt you, not even with words.”

You met his gaze, the weight of everything you’d been holding in your chest finally feeling a little lighter. “Thank you,” you whispered, a small tear escaping despite yourself. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Damian gave you a small, reassuring smile, though it was edged with the same underlying pain. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed with him the rest of the lunch period, the both of you lost in the quiet comfort of each other’s company, as if the world outside your small bubble didn’t exist. For now, at least, you didn’t have to be strong alone.

The weeks passed, and slowly, but surely, you began to feel yourself healing. It wasn’t easy—some days, you felt as though you were taking one step forward and two steps back—but with Damian by your side, you were starting to find joy again.

You’d signed up for soccer, something you’d always wanted to try, but never had the courage to do. You weren’t exactly a star player right away, but it felt good to do something that was just for you. It was an outlet—a way to channel the frustration and hurt, to feel like you were building strength in every pass and every kick.

Damian noticed the change in you too. He saw the small spark return in your eyes, the way you laughed when you made a good play. So, without a second thought, he joined in. He wasn’t exactly a soccer player, but that didn’t stop him from running beside you on the field, working together to help you feel less out of place. He didn’t care that soccer wasn’t his thing; he cared that it was your thing, and he’d support you no matter what.

The next match was one of the biggest games of the season, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement. You were both nervous—especially you, with the memory of how the girls had taunted you still fresh in your mind. But this time, you felt different. This time, you weren’t alone.

As you and Damian stepped onto the field together, the opposing team was already on the sidelines, laughing and joking among themselves. A few of the popular boys—part of the group of arrogant athletes who had always looked down on you—shot you and Damian disdainful looks. One of them, a tall jock with dark hair, sneered at you from across the field.

“Hey, look, it’s the freak show and her bodyguard,” he jeered, his friends snickering. “Did you guys really think you could win?”

Damian’s posture immediately straightened, his usual calm replaced with a barely contained intensity. He stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the boys. His body was tense, ready to take action if needed, but you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“Don’t let them get to you,” you murmured. “We’re here to play, not to fight.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but he nodded once, taking a deep breath.

The game began, and at first, it was clear that the other team was underestimating you. They were trash-talking, trying to get into your head, but you kept pushing forward, focusing on the ball, on the game. As the match continued, you felt stronger—faster—your confidence growing with every successful pass, every goal attempt. Damian was right there with you, supporting you every step of the way, offering encouragement with a smile that made your heart race.

It wasn’t until one of the boys from the opposing team kicked the ball into the net, mocking you with a grin, that the game took a more intense turn. You could feel the eyes on you, and the taunts growing louder, but you refused to back down. You and Damian worked together like a perfect team, passing and dribbling, until finally, with only a few minutes left in the game, you made a break for the goal.

The crowd held its breath as you charged forward, the ball at your feet, and with a single swift kick, you sent it into the net. The roar of your teammates and the audience around you was deafening. The scoreboard flashed in your favor: Your Team 3 - Opposing Team 2.

The other boys on the opposing team froze for a moment, shock written all over their faces.

And then, the one who had been the most vocal earlier, the tall jock, turned to look at you—really look at you—for the first time. His expression shifted from mockery to guilt as his eyes fell to the bandages on your arms, barely visible beneath your sleeves. His gaze flickered to Damian, whose unwavering, icy stare was enough to send the boy scrambling for an apology.

“Hey, uh…” the jock began, his voice faltering. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. We were just messing around, but… I didn’t know about… well, what happened to you.” He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friends. “We were just… told to act like that.”

Damian didn’t say anything, his presence enough to silence the boy with a simple look.

The jock’s eyes widened in realization, and he mumbled an apology to both of you before walking away, his pride clearly deflated.

The rest of the boys, seeing the awkwardness unfolding, followed suit, quickly backing off and offering half-hearted apologies. You didn’t say a word, but inside, you felt something shift—a weight lifting from your shoulders.

After the Game

The final whistle blew, and your team celebrated the hard-earned victory. You were exhilarated—your heart racing from the rush of the game, the adrenaline coursing through you as you high-fived your teammates. But as you looked at Damian, standing by the sidelines with a proud grin on his face, something deep inside of you swelled.

You walked over to him, breathless and smiling, and without thinking, you reached up and kissed him—softly, quickly, but with all the emotion you’d been holding inside.

Damian froze for a split second, clearly surprised, but then he melted into the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you gently closer. When you finally pulled away, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, full of warmth and affection.

“You did great out there,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled, your heart soaring. “We did great,” you corrected. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Damian smiled, a small but genuine expression. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. And I’m always going to be here… by your side.”

And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it.

As the cheers and celebrations of your team echoed around the field, you and Damian lingered in your own little bubble. The kiss had been spontaneous, but it felt like a long time coming. Even amidst the noise, the world seemed quiet as the two of you looked at each other, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“You’re full of surprises,” Damian murmured, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

Before Damian could reply, your teammates called for you to join the group photo, their voices filled with excitement. You glanced at him hesitantly, unsure if you should leave his side, but he gave you a small nod.

“Go,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

You ran off to join your team, grinning as you posed with them, the victory still buzzing in your veins. Every now and then, you glanced back at Damian, who leaned casually against the fence, his eyes never leaving you.

The Walk Home

After the game, the two of you decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. The evening air was cool, and the city lights flickered against the darkening sky. Your cleats dangled over your shoulder, and Damian carried your bag without you even asking.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’d you think of my moves out there?”

“They were adequate,” Damian said with a teasing edge, though the small smile on his face gave away how proud he really was.

“Adequate?” you repeated, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I think you mean phenomenal.”

Damian chuckled, his rare laugh warming you from the inside out. “Alright, fine. Phenomenal,” he admitted. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” You grinned, feeling lighter than you had in months.

The conversation flowed easily as you walked, but soon, the quiet returned, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. As you approached your house, you stopped just outside the door, turning to face Damian.

“Thanks for everything,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude. “For joining soccer with me, for standing up for me, for… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re worth it, Y/N. And I’ll keep proving that to you, every day.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness—it was from the overwhelming warmth of knowing someone cared so deeply.

A Quiet Night Together

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch, exhaustion from the game finally catching up to you. Damian followed, sitting beside you and stretching his legs out.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked after a moment.

“I could eat,” you admitted, laughing.

Damian smirked. “I’ll cook something. But only if you promise not to criticize my technique.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin.

He got up and made his way to the kitchen, and as you watched him move around the space, you couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed in such a short time. Things weren’t perfect—you still had a long way to go—but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

Later, as the two of you sat together on the couch, eating and talking about anything and everything, you realized how far you’d come. Damian’s presence, his unwavering support, had made all the difference.

And as the night grew late and you rested your head on his shoulder, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn’t face them alone.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through your curtains, and for once, it didn’t feel so harsh. It was Saturday—a break from the chaos of school—and Damian had insisted on spending the day with you. His reasoning was simple: to replace the comics you’d ripped up in your darkest moment.

You got ready, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and when you opened the front door, Damian was already there, waiting. He was dressed casually, in a black jacket and sneakers, but he still carried himself with that same composed air.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his green eyes soft as they met yours.

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Thanks for doing this with me.”

The Comic Shop

The bell above the door jingled as the two of you stepped into the cozy little comic shop tucked away in one of Gotham’s quieter neighborhoods. The familiar smell of ink and paper greeted you, along with rows upon rows of colorful covers displayed on shelves and racks.

You felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wandered through the aisles, memories of weekends spent here flashing in your mind. Damian followed close behind, his hands tucked into his pockets as he scanned the titles, occasionally picking one up to inspect the cover.

“I still can’t believe I destroyed some of these,” you said quietly, your fingers brushing over a stack of graphic novels.

Damian’s gaze shifted to you. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly. “You were hurting. And now, you’re here. That’s what matters.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his understanding.

Finding Favorites

After some time, you spotted one of the comics you’d torn up—a special edition issue you’d loved. You picked it up, running your fingers over the glossy cover, and held it up to show Damian.

“This one was my favorite,” you said, your voice tinged with both sadness and excitement.

He took it from your hands, inspecting it. “Then we’re getting it,” he said matter-of-factly, tucking it under his arm before moving on.

“Damian, I can pay for it—”

“No.” He cut you off with a sharp look. “Consider it a gift. Besides, I’ve been meaning to expand my collection, and this way, I’ll know what to get for myself, too.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile as you followed him.

A Quiet Moment

After gathering a small stack of comics—some for you, some for Damian—you both headed to the small seating area in the back of the shop. It was cozy, with a few chairs and a coffee table surrounded by posters of superheroes and villains.

You sat down and flipped through one of the comics, the familiar feeling of the pages between your fingers bringing you a sense of calm. Damian sat beside you, his own book in hand, though you noticed he glanced at you more often than he read.

“Stop staring,” you teased without looking up.

“I wasn’t staring,” he replied smoothly, though his faint smirk betrayed him.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Sure, Wayne.”

For a while, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, immersed in the colorful worlds of your comics. It felt normal—peaceful—even in a city like Gotham, where peace was often hard to come by.

Wrapping Up

When you finally got up to leave, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Damian paid for the comics despite your protests, and as the two of you stepped back out into the crisp afternoon air, he handed you the bag.

“These are yours,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said softly, looking up at him. “For everything. Not just the comics.”

He gave you a small nod, his expression serious but full of care. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I told you—I’ll always be here for you.”

You smiled, and without thinking, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away—instead, a faint blush crept across his cheeks, making you grin.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand playfully. “Let’s go home. I need to read these properly.”

Damian let out a small chuckle.

The walk back to your house was filled with lighthearted chatter, the bag of comics swinging from your hand. By the time you got home, you were already buzzing with excitement to dive into the stories.

You kicked off your shoes, grabbed the bag, and plopped onto the couch with Damian following close behind. Pulling out the first comic, you settled into the cushions, fully prepared to lose yourself in the pages.

Damian, however, had other plans.

Instead of grabbing a comic for himself, he sat beside you, his arms crossed as he leaned back, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re just going to stare at me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned a page.

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly. “It’s entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re weird, Wayne.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he quipped.

For the next few minutes, you tried your best to focus on the comic in your hands, but Damian’s unwavering gaze was impossible to ignore. Finally, you sighed and turned to face him.

“Alright, what is it?” you asked, exasperated but amused.

His lips curled into a smirk, and before you could react, he lunged forward, his fingers digging into your sides. A squeal escaped your lips as you flinched away, but Damian didn’t relent.

“Damian! Stop!” you shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as he continued his relentless assault.

“Not until you admit defeat,” he teased, his voice calm despite the chaos.

You tried to squirm away, but he was too quick, pinning you down against the cushions as his hands moved to your ribs. Tears of laughter streamed down your face as you kicked your legs, desperate for an escape.

“Okay, okay! I surrender!” you gasped between fits of laughter.

Damian paused, his hands still resting on your sides as he hovered over you, a triumphant smirk on his face. “That’s more like it.”

You glared at him, still breathless. “You’re evil.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a shrug, his tone playful.

As you caught your breath, you realized just how close the two of you were. Damian was leaning over you, his arms braced on either side of your head, his face only inches from yours. His green eyes met yours, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted into something softer.

Neither of you said a word, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Damian…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

But before you could say anything more, his smirk returned, breaking the tension. “You’ve got comic ink smudged on your face,” he said, reaching out to gently brush his thumb across your cheek.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly pushed him off of you, sitting up and grabbing a pillow to hide your embarrassment.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the smile on your face betrayed your words.

Damian chuckled, sitting back and grabbing one of the comics from the bag. “Maybe. But you’re stuck with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you settled back into the couch, this time with Damian reading beside you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this. Moments where the world felt lighter, and the weight of everything else faded away.

The rest of the day unfolded in quiet comfort, a kind of domesticity that felt warm and grounding. After finishing a few comics, you stretched out on the couch while Damian remained seated beside you, flipping through one of his own picks with his usual intensity.

“You know,” you said lazily, your head tilted to look at him, “you don’t have to read like you’re memorizing every panel.”

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “Attention to detail is important,” he replied. “You miss things otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Only you could turn reading comics into some kind of serious study.”

He didn’t respond, but the slight upward twitch of his lips gave him away.

Cooking Together

Eventually, your stomach growled loudly enough to interrupt the peace. Damian looked over, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Hunger finally catching up to you?” he teased.

“Maybe,” you admitted, sitting up and stretching. “Want to help me make something?”

“You mean, do all the work while you ‘supervise’?” he asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

You took it, grinning. “Exactly.”

In the kitchen, the two of you worked side by side, though Damian insisted on taking over whenever you looked even remotely clumsy. You pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was, you liked seeing him in this relaxed, everyday setting.

As he chopped vegetables with precision, you leaned against the counter, stirring a pot of pasta and stealing glances at him.

“You’re kind of good at this,” you said, feigning surprise.

“Did you think I’d be bad at it?” he asked, not looking up.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted with a smirk. “You’re so used to fine dining at the manor, I thought you’d be hopeless at normal food.”

He finally looked up, his expression deadpan. “You realize Alfred taught me, right?”

“Oh, so you’re cheating,” you said, laughing.

Cleaning Up

After dinner, which turned out surprisingly delicious, you both tackled the mess in the kitchen together. Damian washed while you dried, the two of you moving in sync like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“This is weirdly nice,” you said, holding up a clean plate for him to rinse.

He glanced at you, his sleeves rolled up and his hands wet from the soapy water. “What is?”

“Just… doing normal stuff. With you,” you admitted, your voice softer. “It makes everything else feel less… heavy.”

Damian didn’t reply immediately, but he handed you the next dish with a look that was equal parts understanding and affection. “You deserve moments like this,” he said finally.

Movie Night

With the kitchen clean and the dishes put away, you both collapsed onto the couch again, deciding to end the day with a movie. You scrolled through the options while Damian leaned back, his arm casually resting on the back of the couch.

“What about this one?” you asked, pausing on a cheesy superhero movie.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Really? That one’s notorious for being terrible.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “It’ll be fun to make fun of it together.”

He sighed but didn’t protest, and you started the movie.

About halfway through, you found yourself leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you laughed at the absurdly bad dialogue on screen. Damian didn’t say anything, but you noticed the way his arm shifted slightly, wrapping around your shoulders to pull you closer. It was a subtle gesture, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless.

“See? This is fun,” you said, nudging him lightly as a particularly over-the-top action scene played out.

“If your definition of ‘fun’ is watching actors butcher every basic combat move, then yes,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Perfectionist. Not everything has to be realistic,” you teased. “Sometimes you just need to enjoy the chaos.”

He gave a quiet hum, and you could feel the vibration through his chest. “Chaos isn’t something I usually associate with enjoyment.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me, so you better get used to it,” you said with a grin, leaning further into him.

Late-Night Calm

By the time the credits rolled, you were half-asleep, your head tucked against Damian’s shoulder. He glanced down at you, his expression softening as he noticed your slow, even breathing. Carefully, he reached for the remote to turn off the TV, trying not to disturb you.

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no bite to his words.

He shifted slightly, adjusting you so that you were lying more comfortably against him. As he rested his head back against the couch, he found himself staying awake, watching over you as you slept.

Morning Routine

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of faint movement in the kitchen. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up on the couch, a blanket draped over you that you didn’t remember grabbing.

You followed the sounds to the kitchen, where Damian stood, already dressed, pouring two cups of coffee.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy.

He turned, offering you one of the mugs. “Morning,” he replied. “I figured you’d need this after staying up so late watching… whatever that movie was supposed to be.”

You chuckled, taking the mug and leaning against the counter. “Thanks. And for the record, I stand by my choice.”

“Of course you do,” he said, shaking his head lightly.

The two of you sat down at the small kitchen table, sipping your coffee in companionable silence. It was simple, ordinary, but it felt special—like a glimpse into a life you never thought you could have.

“What’s the plan for today?” Damian asked after a while, his green eyes meeting yours.

You thought for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe something boring. Like grocery shopping or reorganizing my bookshelves. Something normal.”

“Normal sounds good,” he said quietly, his lips curving into a small smile.

And so, the day unfolded in a series of small, domestic moments—sharing breakfast, tidying up, and simply enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but it was enough. It was everything.

#dc #dc comics #dcu #dc fanart #dc robin #damian wayne #fluff #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #angst

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ameagrice · 3 months ago

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percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-seven | out of the grave, into the woods.

It’s September 9th, and two days have passed since Percy. Chiron tells you to have hope; maybe he escaped before the place went kaboom. You didn’t see a body, so you should keep the hope alive. You viciously respond that no, there wouldn’t be a body if it was blown to a million pieces, would there?

You eat more than you ever have. The week that passed in the maze had been particularly busy, so much so you’d scarcely had time to eat anything proper. It’s nice to stuff your face, sitting with Annabeth in comfortable silence.

Everyone knows. Everybody knows what happened, by September 9th. Chiron holds a small meeting and explains exactly what happened to the others. Some suggest sending searchers down into the maze to continue what you couldn’t, but Chiron declines the suggestion under the excuse that it’s too dangerous as of late. Percy will turn up eventually, he concludes.

“Have faith,” he sighs, looking around the room. His eyes land on you, where you sit with folded arms and bloodshot eyes nestled between Annabeth and Travis.

It’s hard to do when your mother refuses to answer your prayers. You pray every night for Grover and Percy’s safe return, all week, every morning. You beg any god that will listen to just grant you this one thing, and allow Percy to still be breathing. A tense week passes, and at the week mark—September 14th—since you came out of the maze, hope is beginning to wane. You see it in Chiron’s face with every falsely enthusiastic speech, and in your friends. Annabeth helps you to make a new weapon in the armoury, a lean, light sword made of celestial bronze. You’re working on convincing one of the other campers to charm it to make it smaller, taking inspiration from Riptide. Convenience is key.

By September 15th, people have lost hope. A whole week of people trying to come home should have shown some signs, at least. Another week passes, with no such luck. And then a third. You barely move from the Big House, not really feeling much up to participating in activities and practice fights. You’re just getting into reading a new book, scrunched up in the chair on the porch, when Chiron approaches you, with a solemn look on his face.

“Another book?” He tries for a smile. You see right through him, raising your eyes above the line of your book. There seem to be more stress lines under his eyes. “That’s the third this week alone.”

You raise it a little higher. “I like reading. You can get lost in books pretty easy.”

“I like a good read myself,” he admits. “Maybe not three six-hundred-pagers a week, though.”

Now, you do smile. Just a little.

“I didn’t come here just to halt your peace, my dear. I wanted to talk to you about Percy, and Grover.”

Of course. It’s all anybody wants to talk about with you.

You snap shut the book and pay Chiron all your attention. “Okay.”

He eyeballs the ground for a second. “I think it’s time that we begin to build up a burial shroud for Percy, and begin the proceedings for Grover. Three weeks is…it is unlikely for them to come back to us now. A week, a week and a half at most, is the usual waiting time for heroes to return. I’ve seen this many times before, my dear. Three weeks is too long. It’s time we pay our respects to our friends.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. You feel your heart stammer in the ribcage, tiny shooting pains going haywire. You’ve had these pains all of three weeks—Chiron calls them a reaction to stress, and grief. It’s why he encouraged so much rest, so little training. Your eyes fill with strong tears and your throat thickens.

“Okay,” you manage. A leaded weight pulls your innards down, and something else grinds them together. You feel overcome with hopelessness, a feeling alike deep and terrible sadness, gut-wrenching. You only want to cry until you can’t cry anymore.

“As Percy’s longest friend,” he continues with a hard swallow, “I wanted to ask you personally, if you’d like to create his burial shroud. As an honor to him.”

You want, in that moment, your dad. You want the comfort of a parent, even though you know you won’t get so much as a hug from him. You want home.

You ask Annabeth to help you in making Percy’s burial shroud. A heaviness settles over camp the next day, and everyone you talk to or pass by offers you a sympathetic look, a hand on the shoulder. Together, you pick out sea-green fabric, and tie in some gentle details of deeper greens and little dashes of blue. You find it in yourself to delve bravely into his left-behind cabin, and dig a seashell from the wall beside the statue of his father. It’s a creamy-pale colour, and lined with streaks of red and pale peach, engrained with bits of sand like it had just come directly from the beach. You weave a few into the fabric until your fingers are sore and pricked with blood. It’s all very factual, death and its proceedings. You find yourself zoning out, staring at the soft material in your hands and thinking of absolutely nothing, at times. Annabeth gently says your name, and pulls the needle from your bloody finger. It takes all day to make it perfect, but you finally complete the burial shroud, and tie it off with a pretty bit of creme ribbon and sea rope.

For Grover, it’s different, and Annabeth carries this one forward better than you because she’d known him for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than you knew Grover. She sits down on the sofa, and almost tears the earthy-green and gold fabric with how forcefully she grips it. Annabeth acts normally, but her lip trembles. She presses them together to stop it, reaching out to the table between you both for the needle.

By evening, just as the sun is going down and the sky is burning orange, you’re finished with Percy’s shroud, and Annabeth is finished with Grover’s. They’re not due to be burned until tomorrow evening, but Chiron said it was in everybody’s best interests to finish them sooner rather than later. It would make the process of burning them a lot easier to handle, apparently. You’re but a second away from blowing up, taking action with screaming and hacking at the strawberry fields; so, anything to lighten the situation, really.

“We should really get some food before curfew,” Annabeth set aside Grover’s shroud. “C’mon. They’ll be looking for us if we don’t turn up, and you know what Travis has been like, worrying this week.”

You huff a short laugh. “Guy hasn’t stopped.”

It was true. He’d been so attentive to your every want and thought that you felt somewhat guilty for dropping him the way you had done to accompany Percy into the maze. You felt like such a terrible friend, recently. But if Travis was holding it against you, he didn’t show it a bit. Ever the selfless.

Your stomach growls painfully, prompting you to stand and hold Percy’s shroud for another second or so, before dropping it safely next to Grover’s. The silky material slips from your fingers and hits the table carefully. The clock above the door tells you it’s nearly seven o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

Annabeth is long gone by the time you force yourself to leave the room. You can see her in the distance, walking to the dining pavilion. You stop against a wall, breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, just taking in the air. It smells of pine trees and strawberries, and something warm. The sky is burnt orange and lined with golden clouds. An otherwise perfect evening, if you weren’t hearing Grover’s voice in the back of your mind.

He’s shouting your name, so distantly it feels like he isn’t even there at all. You wish you could help him. His voice grows louder, and closer. You begin up the hill just as you hear breathing—hard, heaving breathing like the person it’s coming from has ran a marathon.

You spin, somewhat startled, and your jaw drops so hard you think it might have landed in Tartarus. “G—GROVER?!” He’s really here. Really! With sweaty hair, missing a sleeve of his jacket, but he’s here in person. Grover is alive. “Holy cows. Holy cows. Holy cows—”

“I did pray to some holy cows, actually,” he nods out of breath. Grover puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head back. The sun is setting very quickly, and really it’s nothing special tonight compared to every other night, but to Grover, it must be amazing.

All the breath he gets back in his lungs is swiftly knocked right back out again. You lunge for him, the relief falling like a heaviness from your shoulders. Grover is a little bonier under your hugging arms than the last time you were together, but he’s in one piece and here in front of you, and it’s more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe. With your heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, it’s difficult to discern whether you’re about to have a heart attack, or if you’re developing some sort of condition from all the scares. “Really. It’s good to see you.”

He’s shocked. Of course he is; you’ve barely shown even camaraderie towards Grover before. You think it might be time to change your tune.

“I wasn’t sure you’d gotten out,” he sighed, pulling back. “I’m so sorry for leaving the two of you, but look—I found him. I really did. I found Pan.”

You blanch. Not solely from his insinuation that both you and Percy got out, but that he found what he’d been looking for. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent!”

“We should go tell Chiron, then.”

Heaviness settles in your gut the closer you get to the dining pavilion. You figured that’s where Chiron will be—eating like nothing’s wrong. You haven’t eaten properly in days.

Everybody is seated by the time you arrive. Chiron is, as you’d guessed, at the table and eating as well. It must be the movement from the corner of his eye that turns his head to face you, and it’s a result: he sees Grover; tired, drooping-at-the-shoulders Grover. Chiron stands so abruptly that the table shrieks, the legs scraping against the floor, and campers groan and cover their ears, turning to face the commotion. They follow the leader’s direction, and see him too. The sky is burning, the clouds on fire, and fire in the heart flickers.

A great deal of clamour comes next. It’s all very factual, in the after. They yell Grover’s name and people come running, some in relief, some in disbelief, and some in excitement.

He eats his heart out at the head table, and nobody bothers him. You sit together and for a little while you laugh. Annabeth smiles so hard her cheeks must hurt, and the three of you manage to relieve the last few days and weeks with some joy, especially now Grover has found what he’d been looking for.

It doesnt change the fact that you go to bed with a heavy heart and a sorrowful stomach, and don’t get a wink of good sleep, tossing and turning until the cows come home. When morning comes, you’re sore-eyed and sore of heart, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the warmth of camp itself. On a day where all eyes will be on you, it’s comforting to feel somewhat sheltered by sleeves and neckline.

You don’t eat breakfast, though your stomach grumbles and whines, and you can barely manage to get a glass of apple juice down. People are casting you looks from every table, because they all know what you’re about to do. After all, his burial shroud is only metres away, folded neatly in a small box before the open fire pit.

Finally, after breakfast of little words to anybody, Chiron smiles somewhat skewedly and directs everyone to crowd at the pit. A few girls from the Aphrodite cabin are crying crocodile tears, pretending they’re oh-so-sad over the loss of Percy, though they haven’t spoken to him before, or if they have—only to ridicule him for tripping during track, or letting an arrow fly too early. Silly little things really, that make Percy, Percy. And you miss him.

You barely notice that Chiron is speaking until he’s finished. The soft blue is in your hands, palms up to the sky. You hope they’re watching.

It smells of smoke that will stick to your hair and clothes, of flames that burn your hands even this far out. Orange, yellow, and wicked red all dancing together in the grate like it’s a terrible little party just for Percy.

You have to clear your throat out hard, it having been in disuse since yesterday. Sets of eyes are on you, big and waiting. A few Aphrodite girls are pulling sneering expressions, because they’re not fans of other girls being the centre of attention.

“Uh—well,” you start, wondering why on earth you hadn’t prepared something earlier. There’s a hard lump in your throat, rolling around and around and around and you think you might choke on it. “Percy was my best friend. He meant a lot to all of us, a great deal, actually. I can’t think of one moment where Percy…”

And suddenly you can’t think at all. There’s pressure behind your eyes burning away like the fire in the grate. Your stomach hurts because you’re so hungry you’re starving. The brain fog because of this is alarming, and you can feel the casual facade start to falter. Why can’t you find the words.

You cough a jarring laugh. Annabeth whispers your name from just the front row, moving to get in your line of vision, concerned. She’s upset but she’s holding it together much better than you are.

The blue in your hands is beginning to absorb the sweat from your skin. “Percy was…there are no words. I think his actions said more, anyway, if I’m honest. Truth be told,” you finally look up from your shaking hands, “truth be told, those of us who knew Percy properly already knew that. Percy was just—”

When you lift your eyes just behind the crowd, you begin to notice something strange. A figure. A boy, in immaculate clothing and tanned like he’d just spent a week at the beach. His shirt is ironed and crisp, and a thin circle of white shells is clasped around a wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annabeth urges. Her voice shakes when she carefully pulls you aside. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t fair.”

But your eyes are stuck glued to the boy getting closer, so close that you can make out the green of the eyes you’d recognise absolutely anywhere.

“He’s right there.”

“I know, it’s fine, I can take this.”

She attempts to pry the material from you, but you’re not having it. Clenched in your fists, you nod to the distance, as the lightheaded feeling grows.

“Percy’s here. Percy’s here.”

Heads turn. Bodies shift. Chiron moves through the crowd and pales considerably because he sees what you see. At last, people gasp, people yell out, people rush forward to surround him. But he only has eyes for you, and they’re glossy ones at that.

Your head spins. “Dear god, I think I need to sit down.”

And indeed, down you go.

—

This chapter’s title is taken from the song ‘the let go’ by Elle King. https://youtu.be/RcnUJTIyjXs?si=HO1lzccJfsaF6SbQ (1.18 seconds)

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dearsnow · 1 year ago

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PEACH FUZZ BOY

- ponyboy has never been in a relationship before, and now that he’s started one with his best friend, he feels as though something is different. (ponyboy curtis x gn!reader, fluff, based on peach fuzz by caamp)

word count: 924

a/n - yeah 90% of my fics are based off of songs, sue me 😞 but i love ponyboy and i love this song and they just fit together so perfectly!!

This is new to Ponyboy. Hand-holding, kissing, trying to talk to you without stumbling over his words, all of it. When he sees you, his mouth just goes dry and his pencil cracks and all his poetic euphemisms fly out of his mind like he threw stones at birds. He’s in love.

He’s been in love, but something about making it official has knocked away all of the familiarity he built with you.

Ever since he saw you in the third grade, eyes watery and a wet book clutched in your shaking fists, he knew there was something electrifying about you. He felt like he had to walk up to you and help you pick up your things from the puddle, glaring at the backs of the people who threw them down. He had to walk with you to class, and he had to join you on the swing set during lunch. In a sense, he fell head over heels for you on that foggy September day.

Everything else just came easily to the both of you. You sat with him in class, you whispered behind the pages of your books, you fell in step with his unruly gang of older boys, and you were together so frequently his parents joked you were attached at the hip. Pony never really thought about you in any other way, until the night of a seemingly ordinary rumble.

You were always worried about him fighting, so when he came back with a black eye, multiple scrapes, and a busted lip, you were (understandably) very upset. And, like you always did, you cleaned him up and gave him a stern talking-to with a voice laden with care.

Something scared him that day. During the rumble, all he could think about was you. You getting hurt. You seeing him hurt. Coming back to your house with new-forming scars and seeing your eyes tear up. A little thing inside of him broke, and when he felt your breath on his cheek, your hands deftly placing a bandage on his forehead, he just couldn’t stop himself. He leaned in and kissed you, and you kissed back.

It was natural, like breathing or the beat of his heart. All of a sudden, he wanted to see more of you than the colors he had already been shown. He wanted it, and god, would he get it.

“Pony?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s been up with you lately? You seem really out of it.”

He hesitates. He would hate to confess all of this, that the quick-as-lightning transition from best friends to dating has tied his tongue and shaken his palms. “Nothin’, honest.”

You absolutely do not believe him. You know him too well. The curve of his lips, the movements of his eyes, how he hides his hands- he’s lying, and you know it. “That’s not true. Seriously, what’s up?” You move to place your hands over his, and his breath falters. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

He doesn’t want to, he seriously doesn’t want to, but your eyes are so earnest, and just like a few days ago, his feelings are beginning to slip to the surface.

“I…” he hesitates. You patiently listen, like you always do. “I don’t know how to do stuff like this. I’ve never done it before, ‘n I guess I’m just scared I’ll mess up.” He gives a heavy sigh. “It’s like I still have peach fuzz for, like, love and stuff.”

“Peach fuzz?” Your voice has a humorous ring to it, but a kind one all the same.

“Yeah. It’s stupid, sorry.”

You lean your head on your shoulder and feel his body stiffen. “Don’t be sorry, Pony. I get it. I have it too.” His entire being relaxes as soon as those words leave your mouth. If you have it too, if you feel the same way he does, then surely there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe it’s normal. “All I know is that I love you, and I want us to be normal again.”

He looks down at you, eyes slightly widened. “You don’t wanna date me anymore?”

“That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to say.” You giggle, and the panic blooming in his stomach stills. “I just mean that we don’t have to be awkward. I know you as well as you know me, and dating doesn’t have to mean we forget everything we’ve learned. If anything, it’s an excuse to learn more.”

“Oh.” The moment is quiet for just a second until he realizes something, his voice cracking as his eyebrows raise. “Did you say you love me earlier?”

You smile, eyes squinting in their usual way. “Yes.”

He runs a hand through his greased hair, his heart beating wildly. “Cool.” You look at him. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, I love you too. A lot. More than a lot, probably. I don’t know.”

You laugh, and he joins in with a nervous chuckle. Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you collapse into his lap, and he’s bent over with a hand pressed to his mouth.

When the laughter finally stops, he stares down at your face and leans closer. “I’ll be normal, I promise. From now on, I’ll be the same old Ponyboy.”

You wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down further, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly. “And I’ll be your same old best friend, I promise. With a little more love involved, of course.“

#solar eclipse.#ponyboy curtis x reader #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy headcanons #ponyboy x reader #the outsiders ponyboy #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy michael curtis #ponyboy imagine #stay gold ponyboy #the outsiders #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders fandom #the outsiders fanfiction #curtis brothers

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patscorner · 1 year ago

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For The Rest Of My Life

TW: fluff, and a teeny bit of angst if u squint

The red is what I got from the song, even though this is loosely referencing it.

______________________________

5 years. It's been 5 years since Chris begged his best friend, Nate, for your number. You all were in high school at the time, juniors, to be exact.

You remember it like it was yesterday, when Nate asked for your permission to give your number to Chris. You remember your heart beating out of your chest with anxiety and excitement, surprised that Chris even knew your name.

You said yes, of course. That night, Chris and you blossomed a love that nobody could break. Except yourselves.

The first time he kissed you, you were on your third date, sitting in the bed of your dad's truck, under the stars. Chris knew at that moment that he'd love you for the rest of his life.

The first time he met your mom, he was so nervous, scared that she'd hate him. But that quickly faded, as you were an exact replica of her, both personality wise and looks wise. He loved her so much as they both instantly clicked. Sometimes, you questioned if he was only with you to get to her cooking, a real staple in their relationship.

That question died down as he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. He took you on small dates and he treated better than anyone else ever could.

Even for your first time having sex together, he made it more special than you could've ever imagined. He was slow and sweet, making sure you were comfortable with everything he was doing.

You were kids, of course, so neither of you knew how to communicate rationally when you're upset. If Chris was angry, you'd smile at him, and he hated it, but he stayed. If you were upset, Chris would try to help, but in the end, he'd be frustrated and leave you alone with your thoughts, and you hated it, but you stayed.

You both matured together. You both grew up together. You both had your glow up together. Through the ups and downs, you stuck together. Every weekend, you go to his house, or he'd go to yours, and those were the core memories that stuck with you.

Eventually, you graduated high school together, and you followed Chris and his brothers to LA. The triplets job in social media was both good and bad.

The good part was, that you'd been in videos since you were in high school, so everyone knew you as Y/N Sturniolo, which was incorrect, but you kinda liked the way the last name looked on you.

When you and Chris announced you were dating, the internet almost exploded. Some fans were confused, some were upset, but most were supportive.

The hate got to you at times, but Chris was always right there to help you. He was there to reassure you, and he was there to defend you against the people who hate from behind a screen.

5 years. You and Chris had been dating for 5 years. 5 years, building up to this moment.

You weren't in a public restaurant because Chris knew how much you hated unwanted and unnecessary public attention. He'd always hold you close to him when he was swarmed by teenage girls during your mall outings, making sure you were okay.

Chris suggested that you all go to Boston and invite both families to hang out, having a little get together.

You thought it was strange, but you complied. All 4 of you, as well as Madi and Laura, packed your bags and got on the flight to Boston.

You'd been there for about a week, and Chris had planned a bunch of stuff out. He paid for you and your mom to get your nails done, and he gave you money to go shopping at the mall. You couldn't be more grateful.

Little did you know. Today was the day.

____

"Good morning, ma." Chris's voice rang throughout the quiet room. The sun glistened through the curtain, painting the room a golden yellow. You rolled over and made eye contact with blue eyes.

As you take in your surroundings, you feel Chris's big hands on your back, rubbing small circles comfortingly.

You hummed in response. "Come on, you gotta get up. I planned some stuff for us to do today." His deep voice broke at the end of his sentence, earning a smile from you.

"What time is it?" You asked, your morning voice finally breaking free from your mouth.

Chris smiled. "7:30pm." You and Chris always take midday naps, but this one was more of an evening nap.

You groaned and playfully slapped Chris's chest lightly. "What if we just lay here?" You closed your eyes tightly.

Chris chuckled lightly. "What if I tell you I made food?" You opened one eye, scanning Chris's face for an explanation.

"I'd call bullshit. The house is still standing." You joke.

Chris laughs lightly. "Okay, fuck you kid. Get up before it gets cold." He kisses your temple before pulling the covers off himself and standing up to put a shirt on. "Get dressed. Casual clothing, we're going out." He smiled before walking out of the room.

You sigh as you follow suit, putting a black croptop on, with a white jacket. You put a pair of blue jeans on and your white Air Forces that Chris got you to match his.

You do your hair, brush your teeth, do your makeup, and put your earrings on before walking downstairs. Your jaw drops as you see your beautiful boyfriend sitting at the island, which is covered with all of your favorite foods.

"Wha- what's all this?" You ask as you move towards Chris slowly. He smiles as he stands up and approaches you. You meet in the middle, and he wraps his hands around your waist. You rest your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Surprise, baby." He said, pulling you in to give you a sweet, passionate kiss.

You smile into the kiss. "What's this all for?" You ask, turning your head to admire the spread of food in front of you. Another thing Chris knew about you was that you were a foodie. No matter what you were doing, food would make it a hundred times better.

He shrugged, his face turning a light pink color. "I just felt like it." Is all he said.

You tilted your head in confusion but nodded nonetheless. "Thank you, baby. I love it." You smile.

"I knew you would." He leaned in to kiss your cheek. "Now, dig in. We gotta be there in an hour." He let go of your waist and guided you to the island.

"Be where?" You asked, sitting down at the island.

He shook his head and grinned. "You'll see."

______

"Chris, come on! Can I take this off now?" You said, pouting, tugging on the blindfold.

He laughed but kept his eyes on the road. He carrassed your thigh gently. "No, ma, but we're almost there."

You groan, putting your head back. "I've been in the dark so long." You whine loudly.

Chris laughs. "I know, I know, but I promise it's worth the wait."

You roll your eyes, even though he can't see them. "It better be." You grumble.

You feel the car be put in park. "See, we're here. Was that so hard, sweetheart?"

You cross your arms. "Yes." You lie, smiling.

Chris shakes his head. "Whatever. Let me get the door for you." You hear Chris open and close the door, leaving in a brief silence before you feel your door open.

You feel for Chris's arms, which immediately help you out of the car. He pulls you into a hug. "I love you, baby." He whispers, his voice quiet and shaky.

You cock your head in confusion. "I love you, too. Everything okay?"

You feel Chris lift the blindfold off your head, your eyes immediately shutting at the sudden brightness. "Damn, Chris." You mutter, rubbing your eyes.

He laughs lightly.

When your eyes adjust to the brightness, you see that you're in a park.

But it wasn't any park. It was the park where you and Chris both said your first 'I love yous'. The park that was above the beach, a place where you could park your car and watch the sunset.

This place held such a sensitive place in your heart, and it immediately tugged in your chest as you looked at Chris, who had tears in his eyes.

"Baby, what're we doing here?" You wipe his tears, and he laughs softly, wiping them as well. "I told myself I wasn't gonna cry yet."

You shake your head. "It's okay. What're you planning?"

He shook his head, grabbing your hand and walking you through the park. You approach a blanket with words written on it. You can't make out the word before Chris pulls you into him, as you both stand up in front of the sunset.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as your back pressed against his chest. He swayed you both back and forth as you both just relished each other's company for a while.

Eventually, he spoke. "Come on." He grabbed your hand, walking you to the blanket, where you can see the letter clearly now. It spelled out 'will you marry me?" In your favorite flower petals, because he knew you didn't like red. (Unless it's red, then replace with fav color)

You freeze and look at Chris, who is now kneeling in front of you with a ring.

You cover your mouth with your hands, tears threatening the fall.

Chris wiped his tears before his spoke, clearing his throat. "Y/n Y/l/n, I love you so much. I never knew I could ever feel this way about someone. I never knew I could be so happy." He choked, wiping his tears once more. "Fuck. Okay, okay. You're my strength and my weakness. You help me battle my demons, and so far, we're undefeated. After all these years, I still have a crush on you, and it's never faded."

He swallowed, not bothering to wipe his tears anymore. You're still standing in front of him in shock, listening to his proposal.

"I love you so much, and if you let me, I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life. And if you let me, we can start a family. And if you let me, I can call you my wife. So, Y/n Y/l/n... will you marry me?"

You stare at Chris for a moment longer before kneeling in his level and engulfing him in a hug. You both are an emotional mess, using each other for comfort.

You pull away and wipe your tears. Chris smiles. "Is that a yes?"

You nod, laughing tearfully. "Yes, yes, of course." You pull him into an emotional kiss before pulling away.

He attempted to slide the ring on your finger, but he was shaking. "Oh baby, you're shaking." You sniffle.

He smiles shyly, finally getting the ring on. "I know, I was nervous as fuck." You pull him into another hug as he stood up.

"I love you so much, Christopher." You say into the crook of his neck. He smiled. "I love you more. You have no idea."

You feel tears prick your eyes again, never feeling more loved. Chris looked at your glassy eyes, wiping the tears. "Don't cry again, or I'm gonna cry again." He says, his voice shaking.

You laugh. "I can't help it! I'm gonna get married!" You sigh.

"Well, get it the fuck together! I told Matt and Nick I wouldn't cry." He exclaimed jokingly.

You laugh, wiping his tears. "They didn't believe you, did they?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Give me that ring back." You laugh as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the car.

"Where are we going?" You ask, buckling up.

"They're waiting for us at the restaurant." He said.

"What?"

He looked at you. "I love you so much, ma. I can't wait to be your husband." He smiled. Your face flushed as you leaned in to give him a deep, passionate kiss.

He smiled into the kiss. "If I get one of those every time I say that, don't expect any other words to come out of my mouth from now on."

You laugh as he puts the car in drive. After about 15 minutes, you arrive at the restaurant.

From the car, you can see yours and Chris's whole family through the window. You look at Chris. "How -"

He put his hand up. "Magician never reveals his secrets." You smile, getting out of the car, holding hands with Chris as you both walk into the building.

You walk in and the building went silent. All the eyes looked at you, but they didn't make you nervous, because you knew all of the familiar, comforting eyes look at you.

Chris clears his throat. You look at him before looking back at everyone. You smile and hold up your hand with the ring on it.

"I'm getting married!" You say, earning cheers and claps from the audience. Matt and Nick immediately walk up to Chris and give him a giant hug and say congratulations.

Matt pulled you into a comforting hug. "Did he cry?" He asked as he pulled away.

You smile. "Like a baby." You laugh, earning a laugh from Matt and Nick. Chris stared at you. "Snitch." He muttered.

Nick embraced you into a hug. "Congratulations. I'm surprised he managed to keep you after all these years." Nick shook his head. You laughed.

"Me too. But I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Nick cringed. "Corny." He smiled, shaking his head.

You smile, before saying goodbye and walking over to Chris, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, baby." You whisper in his ear, his arm snaking around your waist.

He smiled back at you, tears pricking his eyes again. "I love you, too."

You were going to get married. Married to your best friend and soul mate. And you couldn't be happier.

______________________________

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #matthew sturniolo

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slaymybreathaway · 1 year ago

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WASTELAND BABY! (Chapter Three)

Chapter List Masterlist 📼

Word Count: 1k

Content: sexual innuendo, friendly banter, Neville being all cute and flustered

September 5th ○ Gryffindor Dorms

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"Ron get up" Harry shook the sleeping figure of his best friend and watched as his one of his eyes opened, his long red hair still splayed across the pillow.

The rest of the boys were already up, having been woken by the bell rining in the corridoor fifteen minutes prior.

"Lemmesleeparry," Ron mumbled before turning onto his other side. Harry rolled his eyes, though he had grown used to this over years.

"Tell him that he'll miss breakfast," Dean laughed from where he was making his bed on the other side of the room. "That should get him up quick enough,"

"Or..." Seamus buttoned up his shirt before grabbing his pillow and holding it up, a michevious smirk on his face.

The other three boys realised what he was getting at and picked up their pillows, quietly walking over to Ron's bed. Seamus counted down from three on his fingers before they all jumped on the bed, bashing the sleeping boy with their pillows.

Ron covered his head with his hands, in a futile attempt to protect himself from the suprise attack. Feathers flew around the room as laughter erupted from the attackers, only stopping once Ron held up his hand in surrender. "Alright alright! I'm up, I'm up!"

Seamus, Dean, Harry and Neville retreased back to their own beds, still chuckling to themselves as a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Shay, you in there?" The sound of an Irish accent made Neville turn his head towards the door quicker than a racing broom.

"Yeah, come in Y/n" Seamus called out from where he was digging through his trunk.

The door opened and in walked y/n, carrying a small pile of clothes. She put them on Seamus' bed, not noticing Neville trying to fix his hair as much as he could.

It had been a few days since their dance on the top of the astronomy tower that had made his affections for her stronger than ever.

"Ma put these in with my stuff before we left. She leave anything with you?" She asked, peering over her brothers shoulder into his trunk. It was often that their mother got their clothes mixed up while doing the laundry.

"I don't understand why there's a charm on the stairs to the girl's dorms but not the boy's. What if we weren't decent or something?" Ron muttered grumpily as he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on a pair of grey socks.

Y/n turned to face him. "Dumbledore trusts us more than you bunch of perverts I suppose," she let out a laugh, crossing her arms. "Besides, if you weren't decent, Ron, I doubt there'd be much for me to look at anyways,"

A smirk climbed onto the girl's face as a chorus of "oooh" sounded across the room. A red blush started to connect the freckles on Ron's cheeks as he stuttered trying to defend himself.

Inbetween fits of laughter, Harry handed Ron the glass of water from his nightstand. "You'll need this, mate"

"For what?" He looked up at his friend in confusion.

"To cool down that burn!!" Dean called out, both of his hands cupped around his mouth to project his voice, the room erupted into laughter once more.

"Oh shut up," Ron rolled his eyes and walked straight to bathroom.

Laughter died down as everyone went back to what they were doing. Seamus pulled a couple of t-shirts out of his trunk and set them down on the bed. "Here, these are yours... and, em," he spoke embarrasedly "so is this,"

Y/n watched as Seamus picked a black bra out of his trunk like it was a contaminated object and flung it towards her. Her face immediatley went red with embarrasment as she tucked the bra away under her jumper in an attempt to hide it.

It was poinless though, because Dean let out a whistle from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "C'mon y/n/n, show and tell," he joked.

"Piss off Deano," she cracked into a laugh before picking up her other clothes from the bed and started to leave. "Hey Nev, I need to drop these back to my dorm. Will you save a seat in the Great Hall for me?"

Neville looked up from where he was studying his timetable for the year and gave y/n a smile. "Yeah of course,"

Seamus' eyes glanced between all of his friends' faces in suspicion. He waited till his sister had left the room and was out of earshot before turning back to his mates. "You guys better have had a good look because that's it," he spoke just as Ron walked back into the dorm, toothbrush in hand.

"That's what?" Harry asked, confused.

All of the boys turned their heads to Seamus for an answer.

Seamus crossed his arms before speaking "Y/n's off limits, starting now," he nodded decidedly.

Neville looked at Seamus with confusion. What did he mean off limits?

"What? That's crazy! we wouldn't go after your sister," Dean shot back, a look of shock on his face.

"Speak for yourself, Thomas." Ron scoffed, a smirk on his face. Seamus, who's face was turning quite red, was about to speak up before Harry interrupted him.

"Do you think if I asked her out she'd say yes. You know, because I'm The Chosen One and all," he grinned, sharing a look with Ron. Of course neither of them was serious, they were just trying to get on Seamus' nerves... and it was working.

Once Dean realised what they were doing, he chimed in too. "On second thought, she does give me the look sometimes"

Seamus almost had smoke almost blowing out of his ears at this stage, but before he exploded he turned to Neville. "I suppose you wanna get in on this aswell, Longbottom?" He asked.

A state of panic came over Neville and he could feel the colour drain from his face. "What? I don't wanna say anything!" He held his hands up.

Seamus' anger was halted as he flung one of his arms around Neville's shoulders. "See! Longbottom's the only one with the decency to not want to snog my sister!" He smiled, pointing at Neville between every word.

Nevilles face went from white as a ghost to red as a tomato in a matter of seconds and he felt his heart racing in his chest.

Only if he knew...

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ireland #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fluff #neville x reader #harry potter and the goblet of fire

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realtapiocafan · 19 days ago

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hiiiiiii i was reading your tags from the fic snippet and learned something new in that i did not Know ja’marr moved to dallas omgg 😀 can u provide some more info on this ✍🏿✍🏿✍🏿

Ofc! (This is long)

So from what I gather, after opting out, Ja'Marr went back home (Harvey, Louisiana - close to NOLA) until about November, when he moved to Dallas to get ready for the draft. In the Najee-Jaylen-Ja'Marr house thing they did (which includes what Pro Day was like post-COVID and has some other videos about the draft itself), Ja'Marr says himself that he hasn't actually been at the LSU campus ever since he opted out. (Also if you look at his twitter, he was live-tweeting LSU games lol).

Everything else below are articles mentioning Ja'Marr going to Dallas, as well as some other information regarding COVID-era Ja'Marr, sprinkled with my own little comments in between 🙂

So first off, the Dallas thing is specifically mentioned in this article by the Advocate (I'm going to include the necessary paragraphs bc some of these are paywalled smh)

There were more uncertain times, too. Chase opted out of the 2020 season during preseason camp last year, a time in which the pandemic was surging and there was tension in the football operations building after a mishandled team meeting regarding the team's player-led march amid national protests against police brutality. Chase told reporters at LSU's Pro Day that his decision to leave was because "I had a lot of stuff going on with my family at the time." Chase dedicated his time toward becoming a professional. From November until March, he lived and worked out at the EXOS training facility in Dallas. After almost a year out of public sight, he coolly ran a 4.38-second 40-yard dash at pro day — an impressive enough time that Jimmy said coaches and trainers told Ja'Marr he could shut it down. "I came here to put on a show," Ja'Marr told them, then proceeded to run routes and individual drills.

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The Athletic (which i honestly trust more) goes more into detail into Ja'Marr's exact location. Apparently, Ja'Marr moved from Baton Rouge back home (it sounds like it was about September). Then in November, he went to Dallas. This article also includes some more information on Ja'Marr's experience in quarantine. That quote by Ja'Marr's dad really opened my eyes, because Ja'Marr was never really alone before this. He was always part of a team, always surrounded by people until... well, he wasn't. (Also now that I think about it, Ja'Marr did say he started watching tape because of Joe and apparently spent most of this year -which was away from Joe- watching tape... maybe it reminded him of Joe 👀)

Ja’Marr stayed in Baton Rouge initially after opting out in August. He remained close with his teammates, especially the receiving corps at first. But once the season cranked up, Ja’Marr moved back home, feeling a sense of isolation without football... “We kept him close to home. We noticed that he was struggling a little bit. Life without football. Life without a team. His whole life changed. It was his first time not playing sports since he was a young kid. Gamedays were the hardest day.” One thing jumped out to Jimmy as they watched games together, though. He never fully grasped his son’s football IQ. “We watched the games with him,” Jimmy said. “He would call the plays before the snap was gone. And he would say how Terrace (Marshall) needs to do this because the defense is about to do this. And Racey (McMath) needs to do this so he needs to watch out for this. He’d call the play and I was like, ‘Damn!’ It would happen just like he said. So sitting out actually helped in that sense. He never really watched football. He was always playing. Now all he could do was watch it. He told me and I saw how much it helped him.” Watching games with Ja’Marr, his parents sensed his pent-up energy. He was healthy, but he wasn’t playing. The energy fed right into Ja’Marr’s passion for working out. He’d run to the gym often after games to let that energy free. The regimented workout routine really kicked up about six months ago. “He’s been at EXOS (A Dallas-based training facility) since November,” Jimmy said. “They had an opt-out session group that started out where they would work out three days a week. So he started out there at the end of October or early November. That lasted until the end of December. Then in January, he started getting into the more combine workouts. He’s been working hard and getting stronger. That’s really the only thing that’s been keeping him sane is working. That’s all he could do.”

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This Sports Illustrated article further confirms he was in Dallas for at least part of 2020-2021. It also adds that Ja'Marr was so pent-up that he apparently wanted to opt back in (probably bothered by LSU being kinda shit that year -that third game, LSU lost 45-41 💀).

He spent the off-year training in Dallas, studying film and watching his former college teammates struggle through to a 5-5 COVID-impacted 2020 season. What many don’t know, his dad says, is Chase nearly returned to LSU midseason. “People don’t realize how close he was to coming back,” Jimmy says. “After the third game, he was watching and jumped off the sofa after they lost. He said ‘I’m about to opt back in!’ It was killing him.” The family seriously explored whether Chase would have been eligible to return (Jimmy says Ja’Marr would have) and spoke to coaches at length about his reinstatement. In the end, Ja’Marr remained on the sidelines.

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This Washington Post article also goes more into depth about the impact COVID had on Ja'Marr's family and what went into the decision to opt-out (Ja'Marr apparently has a hole in his heart which SHOCKED me the first time I read it) (It also goes the most in depth into Ja'Marr's aghast reaction at Les Miles saying he should be a DB and why Ja'Marr didn't want to commit to LSU at first)

But that March, Jimmy Chase says, their family began suffering from flu-like symptoms, and older son Jimmy Jr. and Toleah would be hospitalized with what they later learned was covid-19. “I was like: Shake it off, man,” Jimmy Chase Sr. says. “I can’t die now.” During a most unpredictable spring, when the coronavirus pandemic paused sports and shut down the world, the Chase family survived but eventually learned about “long covid” and the heart and respiratory problems some patients reported. Jimmy Chase says his son’s heart problem has healed, but it remained a frightening preexisting condition and again placed the father and son on opposite sides of a tense debate.

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Last thing, if you were wondering about the team meeting in the first article, here's what information i found. Again, I don't know how reliable The Advocate actually is and unlike the article above, this is literally the only source I found that mentions this. I don't recall Ja'Marr or any other LSU players saying anything remotely negative about Orgeron - most of them say he was a great coach!

(At the same time, an old white guy giving ... maybe not racist, but tone-deaf advice to a bunch of college-aged black men, in the height of Black Lives Matter -it's not out of the question.)

Multiple sources told The Advocate that team morale turned south before the season even began, when a large group of players felt Orgeron mishandled a team meeting regarding the team's player-led march in August amid national protests against police brutality. The players skipped practice that day, met outside Tiger Stadium and marched to the university president's office without Orgeron, who later told reporters he didn't know about the protest before it happened. Orgeron met up with the players at the president's office and took part in a meeting that lasted about an hour. He later told reporters he and the players talked "about the things they're going through and how we can be a part of the solution." Privately, the meeting did not come off as productive as described. Orgeron and some players were upset during the meeting, multiple sources said, and while some players said the situation could've been handled better by all sides, other players left feeling Orgeron wasn't supportive. Three days after the meeting, star wide receiver Ja'Marr Chase announced he was opting out of the season, joining starting nickel safety Kary Vincent in preparing for the NFL draft. By the end of the week, starting nose tackle Tyler Shelvin opted out as well.

#let me know if one of the links don't work or if you have any questions #i think the third and fourth article aren't paywalled but whatever i included the quotes anyways #ja'marr chase #i probably included more sources than needed. whatever ig.#i do love research <3 #covid-era ja'marr really gives me all the feels tho #🥺 all alone and forced to just WATCH lsu AND joe suffer (to a lesser extent justin)...#my personal headcanon regarding dallas (not backed by any articles btw): ceedee got drafted to the cowboys in 2020 #so ja'marr heard about the training camp from ceedee (who's also from louisiana and was also probably feeling a little alone in the nfl)#(ceedee played against lsu in the 2019 peach bowl (semifinal) so that's how ja'marr knew ceedee)#sorry for taking a while btw!#i hope i answered your question!#covid era ja'marr #anyone: feel free to use any info provided and ask if you have questions about the sources #articles #lsu era ja'marr #information #my asks

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minty-mumbles · 1 year ago

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Linked Universe Survey 2023

The long awaited results of the survey. Sorry it took me forever, making graphs is hard.

There were 452 responses to the survey as a whole, which is almost double what we got last year, so thank you to everyone who participated!

If you want to see the raw data, you can find that here. I had thoughts about the data, but compiling that into another post would be too much of a hassle. Feel free to send me asks about it though!

The rest of the post will be under a read more as it it large

Demographics

Other: Demigirl (4), Transmasc (3), Grey genderfluid, Unlabeled, Demiboy, Demiagender

Other: Omnisexual (4), Poly (2), Trixic, Abroromantic or Bellusromantic, Demisexual

General Questions

Other: Quotev, Discord, their own google docs

Other: Discord, Variations of "I haven't posted yet, but I pan to" and "I haven't posted my fics in ages",

Other: Wattpad, Deviantart, Discord

Other: Crochet dolls, Custom dolls, Roleplay blogs (2), Fan translations, Headcanons (2), Piano music

The purple section in the “Warriors vs Warrior” chart is supposed to read “Warrior.” I made a typo.

Favorites and Least Favorites

Selected Free Response Answers

im sorry warriors i just can't play your game (it is very very hard. i am stuck very early on in the game)

I love cats meow meow meow

was extremely tempted to put twilight for least favorite. unfortunately he is my favorite to write from the perspective of (he has taken over most of my wips. help) and that probably counts for something. WILD on the other hand. hooo boy how the hell do i characterize this gargoyle. why is he Like That. least favorite it is

Twiddy

very good fandom to be in :) everybody is very nice

It's a straight up crime that Wars lost the aesthetics poll so quickly. He has such a peak Link design with the best colors. Ugh I'm getting wistful.

FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS.

I will fight Hylia herself and the next person who implies Twi can't handle spice. If we're going to lean into him being southern/Midwestern, which is an alright stero type for our rancher, please keep in mind the culture you're basing him off. The south and midwest can handle their spice, I assure you. Have you ever had authentic Louisiana gumbo? It will melt you tongue off. Or some good old fashion spicy fried chicken? I promise the real stuff has quite a kick. (In all seriousness, though. It's more important that you're having fun. And even I can admit the idea of Twi being an Ordonian who can't handle his spice is more than a little funny.)

I am an OoT Link edgelord and have been since early 2017. So, in September of that year, when an artist by the name of jojo56830 puts out a lineup of nine different Links and the Hero of Time is there – the oldest, no eye, Hero’s Shade armor? I saw that one sketch and just thought “oh this is gonna be bad.” Yeah of course he has the coolest design. By the way, it’s only a matter of time until Fierce Deity shows up in the comic and I have reason to believe it could be this current Dawn arc. Dawn … Dawn of a New Day … and who brought about the Dawn of a New Day? Fierce Deity. Twilight is recovering but still injured and what will happen if he falls again? Fierce Deity is coming and we need to be prepared. In this essay I will—

Remember that time when someone put the whole script of the bee movie in here? I’m not that dedicated, and I don’t have that time, but let us remember and hope someone else does it again this time. Cause someone is bound too. We’re all crazy enough to do it. Alright, love you and stay hydrated pls!

Hi! I joined this fandom really recent but i’ve always seen LU stuff on pinterest and elsewhere. Only recently have i actually took the time to understand the fandom and get back into LOZ stuff and i adore the characters and story! The more and more fanart, fanfics, and comics i see about the different Links the more i love them all. It’s such a pain to pick just one i like or one i don’t like because they’re all so unique. I love this fandom and hope to get more involved!! Have a wonderful rest of your day :]

Epona is an underrated queen

your mom

I really don't get why Zelda is called Artemis. Athena makes more sense???? It perplexes me

Anyone seeing this should check out Breanna’s E!Wild AU

Something something queer every Link into oblivion!

#linked universe #lu survey 2023 #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #lu warriors #lu legend #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu four #lu sky

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unholyverse · 11 months ago

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awtto toronto is my ryden seattle: a rambling

yeah yeah ik ryden seattle has been debunked but this is similar enough to that and seems more plausible so. bear with me here. thanks to my good friend @filthyjanuary for actually watching all of this go down and having pics so i can be insane about it and write stuff like this lol.

also disclaimer before anyone tries calling me out. i don't actually know anyone in the band and this is all speculation for the sake of good ol fashioned real person fiction meaning don't take this too seriously and don't show this to the band or anyone connected to them. cool? cool.

night one: september 4, 2022

waterparks were on their final opening spots (if you don't count la night 4) of their leg of mcr's return tour in toronto at scotiabank arena.

this was already a strenuous tour despite the short length because not only would this mark parx's first time playing arenas, but it directly followed their run on the sad summer tour that year, putting some extra strain on them. in some of my mutuals' words, awsten was annoying and sounded like shit.

up to this point, waterparks had been doing free meet & greets after shows. however, this would be the only show (besides la) they would not do m&g because awsten posted this on his story at roughly 11:21 pm.

however, he was seen leaving the venue with otto roughly around 10:50 pm. a fan had caught them outside the venue by the buses and tweeted about the experience.

(note: the tweet embeds have timestamps in UTC; these tweets were posted on the 4th at 10-11pm EST and the UTC version is equivalent to that)

not anything too weird. they just left the set earlier than the rest of the band and crew since awsten was feeling out of it; lucas and geoff were seen leaving during the last song anyway.

the weird stuff starts with the fact that otto flooded the showers backstage (audio taken from this interview).

otto estimates that around 2:00 am, he was scrambling to find custodial staff to help him clean up his shower mess (literally a situation only he of all people would get in lol).

weird though, right? if otto was so concerned with cleaning up that mess, why would he leave with awsten long before he even tried? and even then, why would otto leave the set of his favorite band ever to go with awsten?

also let's shift to the day after: supposedly an anon of mine had met awsten in a starbucks the next day and said he was wearing the same clothes he had wore onstage on the 4th.

they also said he smelled good but he always does

this would align with a couple of things i already thought were likely. there are a couple of starbucks locations in the area, but if awsten and otto had walked out on their own instead of with the crew, they were likely within a short distance of the arena to do so. as you can see there is not only a hotel within walking distance of the arena, but there is also a starbucks within the vicinity of the hotel.

there's no proper way to put this and this is just rpf madness anyway but my theory is: they were sucking and fucking that night and awsten was tired enough after he slept in his stage clothes and sprayed a bunch of cologne on him for his coffee run the next day. end of story.

night two: september 5, 2022

this show would mark parx's last opening slot for mcr before la night 4. my friend said awsten sounded better that night. can you sound better a night after getting dicked down? who knows that's an answer for science.

also after their set, parx were caught watching the show on the floor and awsten was sitting down with otto's hand on his shoulder and it was very cute.

anyway, parx were able to do once final free m&g that night. one thing to note though was otto and awsten's change of clothes between their set and the m&g.

(terrible cropping and sorry to the fan i cropped out)

as you can (kinda) see, awsten is wearing a red tank top and otto is wearing a yellow shirt during the show. however, once their set was over, awsten and otto decided to wear matching mcr merch (and not tell geoff because he's still wearing the same shirt from onstage).

what would make these two do this who knows. they're no strangers to sharing or matching clothes anyway but it is sorta funny to me how they're matching like a couple and leaving their own bandmate to third wheel that lol.

was something in the air between awsten and otto in toronto? maybe, but it's not like we'll ever know. i can only imagine what they could've done.....

#awtto #rpf #welcome to my twisted mind

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jillsandwhichs · 8 months ago

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Our Future Days

Joel Miller x Reader series, Chapter 1, Move in day

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You officially move from oregan to texas and get to meet your very new & handsome neighbor, Joel

WC: 3.1k

Type: SFW

Some thing's you need to know before reading: this is a series, not a one shot collection! you (the reader) already have a semi premade backstory. first off, you're originally from oregon. you studied at med school and got a job offer in texas to become a doctor, which you took. you are 23 in this but if you don't like that, imagine any age (18+) and i did make joel younger 26 (until the 20 year time jump, he'll be 46) but he does still have sarah, just pretend it's not wonky LMAO! one more thing, ya have a dog in this fic, he's a boy but imagine any breed you'd like! aside from that, this is tlou game version but i included some sides from the show! a couple more things: 1. all characters from tlou1/2 will be mentioned/featured. 2. this takes place before outbreak, then eventually outbreak day, then eventually in the apocalypse. 3. this is a slow burn romance (drabbles of it in each chapter though, esp when it progresses) and does feature a decent amount of smut. 4. JOEL NEVER DIES!!!

Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you matched the beat of the song playing on your cars radio. It was a song by Blake Shelton. You weren't a huge fan of him but he had some classics. It has been such a long day for you. You've been driving for the past two hours, not a single break in between. You just wanted to get to your new home as soon as you could. You could tell your dog, Becker, needed to go potty as well. He'd just have to hold out.

The GPS on your phone stated you were only about ten minutes away. The center of Austin TX was busy as all hell, so that time span could get longer by the second. So many cars & people flooded the streets. "God dammit." You mumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes as you seen all the upcoming traffic ahead. This was going to be a long night. You had no clue when you'd even be able to get into bed. Then again, it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, almost evening.

Behind you, in the backseat, you could hear Becker whimpering & whining. "Don't worry boy, we're almost home, just a little bit longer." You cooed to him, reaching your right hand back and allowing him to lick you. You got Becker as a graduation gift a few weeks ago. You two have bonded ever since. You were never a cat person, dog's were more of your style. "You'll be able to go potty soon." You said to him, pulling your hand back up and holding onto the wheel.

Traffic wasn't going as slow as you intended, was traffic always going to be like this though? This ain't going to be pleasant if so. Especially working for the hospital. Imagine an emergency happens and you're needed but the roads are packed, that's going to be one helluva time. But, you wanna think positively. You missed your family too. It's going to be hard without them, especially your mom. She is your number one supporter and without her in the same home as you, it'll be a large change.

You turned the radio up, hearing the country music blast throughout your car but not loud enough to scare your dog. Dogs ears are sensitive and you didn't wanna bother him further than he already was. No doggo wants to be stuck in a car all day, especially in this heat. Despite it being early September, it was still quite warm out. That's another big change from Oregon, you imagine that back home, it's either really windy or heavily raining. The change could be nice though.

The sound of Becker panting was clear as day, it only made you feel more guilty. "Hold on baby." You muttered to him before you then rolled your window down and the window directly behind you, not a lot though, you didn't want him to jump out or something. Through your rearview mirror, you could see his slobbery tounge blowing in the wind as he stuck his head out the window. "Hah, good boy!" You giggled, turning left onto the exit, finally getting off of this miserable highway.

Finally, the road wasn't full anymore. It was a downtown rural area now, cars slowly made their way through the town. Austin is busy, yes, but this side of it, not so much. The only logical reason it was super busy on the highway and earlier roads was because people are getting/going to work. Your first day at the hospital is on Monday. You were nervous but in a great way. You have been non stop thinking about it. All of the work you've put in and you're officially where you wanted to be. Life was going good... For once...

You passed by all sorts of different places. Gas stations, fast food chains, locally owned stores & stands, it felt so honey. Back in Oregon, you lived in the center of the city, it was always so lively and never calm. Austin is like that too but not as bad, and definitely not as bad as Dallas is. You were grateful you didn't end up moving there or even somewhere that was worse. Austin was a good enough fit for you.

The GPS showed you were only a minute or two away from home, your heart was racing a bit. You've never been on your own before and you least expected it to be in a completely different state. Luckily, a week from now, you'll be going back home for the weekend. It'll be comforting. You'll definitely make sure to call your family everyday, you made sure they knew that too. They'd have to simply put up with it.

You could tell you were getting closer due to the change in scenery. There weren't any establishments around these parts, just either compact or extensive suburban homes. You actually used to make fun of those perfect American families who lived in these types of areas but look at you now. Back home, you lived in a small house, only two bedrooms but you were an only child so it was never a problem. You did wish for siblings growing up but you understand now that if you had some, things would be a whole lot different.

As you turned left, the tracker built into your phone made a dinging noise, indicating you had arrived at your destination. It wasn't wrong. Just to the left, you could see your newly purchased home. It made your heart skip a beat. Not only were you nervous but you were also so happy. You glimmered as you pulled right into the driveway and set your car in park. You could tell Becker knew this was your guy's new home, his whimpers weren't ones of boredness but rather excitement. "One second." You sighed out before getting out of the car.

Stepping out of your car, you sighed softly as you breathed in the fresh air. The smell of outside was always so welcoming. You grabbed your purse out of your car too and swung it across your shoulder. It was a brown leather purse with an embroidered strap. You then opened up the backseat so Becker could jump on out. "Stay over here buddy." You chuckled out, scratching the top of his head a few times before closing both doors. You had quite a bit of stuff in your trunk & backseat but you hired a truck to drive all of your other belongings here. It wouldn't be there for another day or so.

Becker ran off to the side of the house to go potty ; You trusted him enough to not run off. He was a good dog. You went to the back of your car and popped open your trunk. It was a mess but everything you needed for the night was in there. You even bought an air mattress, your back would die trying to sleep on a wooden floor. You grabbed the first two boxes, they weren't very big, and set them on the concrete of your driveway. They just had toiletries in them.

You grabbed out another box, this one was a bit bigger than the other two. It had all of your kitchen appliances in it. You were excited to cook your very first dinner in your very own home. You already decided on making Pesto Pasta, one of your favorites. In your trunk, there was the air mattress box. It wasn't going to be the best way to sleep but it'd have to suffice for the night, your proper bed should be in either tomorrow or on Sunday.

Whilst grabbing out the air mattress, you heard the sound of a truck driving past and pulling into the driveway across from you. They must've been your neighbors. Your neighbors back home weren't the nicest. There were the Johnson's so were beyond uppity and thought they were better than everyone else, they lived beside you. Then there was Cassandra and Cody, they were your age and pretty kind except they were literal kleptos.

You ignored the truck behind you, just trying to get everything you needed for the night. You could hear Becker barking but you didn't know what it was he was doing it at. You figured a wild animal, maybe a bunny or a stray. Becker was actually from a shelter, you'd never buy an animal from PetSmart or whatever. "Becker, quit your barking!" You shouted at him, nudging him to come over to you. Maybe he wasn't good with new environments.

You placed the last cardboard box from your trunk on top of another one, shooting your eyes to look at Becker. He was looking at the truck across the street, barking at it. "Oh boy, quit it." You spoke out to him but he didn't listen. You went to grab onto his collar but right as you did, he bolted off into their driveway. He was a friendly dog, you didn't think he'd do anything bad, he was just inquisitive, but it was still bad of him to run off like that.

"Becker!" You yelled, jogging across the street to grab him. You watched as two men got out of the black truck. The one in the driver's seat had a mullet and lighter hair than the other man, he also seemed shorter. The other one though had short dark hair, although you couldn't tell if it was purely brown or black. He was well built, along with the other man. Were they brothers? That's the only assumption that came to mind.

Once you reached their driveway, you grabbed Becker and pulled him back to you. The man getting out of the passenger seat looked back at you and had a puzzled look before letting out a chuckle beneath his breath. "Listen, I'm so sorry, he's just curious." You sighed out. Becker was now listening as he sat down right by your feet. "Sorry, we'll be out of your hair." You giggled, beginning to turn around before you heard the man's voice speak up.

"You just move in across the street?" He asked you, his voice sounded southern and it was very deep. "Oh uhm, yeah, just got here tonight actually." You said kindly, looking back at him again. "Well, welcome then, and to your dog." He snickered out. "I'm Joel, this is Tommy." Joel spoke deeply, pointing over at the other man. You let the two men know your name before asking them whether or not they were brothers, and they were. You weren't surprised, they did share similar facial features.

"Where are you from?" Joel raised, his arms crossed. His arms were huge, he definitely has a nice body. "I'm from Oregon." You said softly, placing your slender hands onto your waist. "Damn, that's a long ways out. What made you move all the way here?" "Got a job offer at the hospital." You said with a titter, his accent was thick. "Oh, you a nurse or something?" He questioned, leaning up against his truck. "No, a doctor. Recently gradated from medschool." You explained, glancing over at his brother as he walked into the house. Maybe they lived together.

"Well how bout that? I'm just a contractor." "That's nice." You added, tucking strands of your thin hair behind your ear. "Yeah, yeah, well I'll let you continue settling in. If you need any help with uh larger furniture, me and my brother can stop by, we helped the Adler's when they first moved in." Joel said with a deep voice, pointing his index to the home beside his. "That would be great, thanks, luckily I don't have to deal with the bullshit of larger furniture today, it'll be in either tomorrow or Sunday."

"Alrighty, well, you have yourself a good evening. See you." Joel said with a sly smirk, slowly inching backwards. "You too, Joel." You gave him a slight smile before patting Becker to follow behind you. You made your way across the street, allowing Becker to run around in his new yard. You took a gander back and seen Joel looked back at you before entering his home. When you saw his eyes on you, you felt a deep pit in your stomach. Nothing bad, rather just glee or something. You couldn't pin it.

Around your neck was a lanyard, it had the key to your home, you assumed it was locked. At least you hoped, you don't want any squatters inside. You unlocked the white door and opened it, stepping inside of it. The sunset beamed in through the windows throughout the house. It was still dark though, every single light was switched on. The seller said you'd have to go to the basement to switch them all on. That sounded like a fun time!

One by one, you dragged each box into the home, keeping some on the floor and placing some on the island counter. You didn't plan on unpacking any of it tonight, you were restless and just wanted to lay down for the night, despite it only being 5 PM. The more sleep you get, the easier it'll be tomorrow. You definitely had to get a lot of sleep Sunday considering on Monday, you start your first day. Even though it's just training, you wanna be as awake as possible.

You ambled towards the front door again and away from the kitchen to call Becker in. He'd have to deal with the floor for the night. He is a cuddly dog, he loves big comfy areas but without a bed or a couch, there's no way. "Becker!" You said with a rowdy voice, "C'mon baby." He came running over to you and past your legs, going into the house and treading around like a mad man. "Oh good boy." You chuckled, petting him gently.

You walked back over to the kitchen and grabbed the air mattress, you needed to get it open and blown up. It was sealed to a T, your nails were definitely not enough to get it open. Striding towards the appliances box, you opened it up and searched through it, taking out a knife to slice it open. You are quite clumsy so you were praying you wouldn't stab the mattress on accident. It didn't help that Becker felt the need to push himself up against you, seeking attention & love as if he's starved from it.

"Back off boy." You snorted, pulling the mattress out of it's box. It was all wrinkled up and looked compact. Although it was the size of a Full. You straightened it out on the living room floor, you didn't feel like carrying it all the way up the stairs. It came with a machine to blow it up and you connected it to the black cylinder hole, turning it on and hearing the loud blowing noise it was making. You didn't have any pillows, they were all packed up in that truck but luckily, you had a blanket, it was the one you let Becker use in the backseat when you were driving.

"You stay here mister." You stated out to Becker before beginning to make your way out of the front door to take the blanket out from the car. As you went outside, you noticed a bright light was on in Joel's house, just in one room though. You could also see the shadow of a smaller person's body walking through said room. Did he have a girlfriend? Or did Tommy have one? Maybe it was Tommy's. You convinced yourself of that at least.

After grabbing the blanket, you walked back inside and seen Becker already making himself a spot on the bed, despite it barley being inflated. "You little shit." You grinned, tossing the fuzzy blanket on top of him. Guess you were going to have to share.

The bed was officially ready to be slept on, you haven't been this excited to sleep in a very long time. Back home, you dreaded it. You would stay up all night, doing different stuff. Whether it was studying, painting, reading, working out, etc.. You were always doing something new. With Becker, it's been better. You're an affectionate person and he is as a dog. It may be a rough night, it always is sleeping somewhere new, but with him it may be easier.

Pulling the machine away from the bed, you turned it off and climbed underneath the blanket, feeling immediate warmth. The Texas heat also played a part in that. Back in Oregon, you had a heater beside your bed to help, you definitely didn't need one here. "Alright." You whispered to yourself, Becker lying right beside your feet, his fur was cozy. You were originally going to turn the lights on to your home but honestly, you were scared to go down there all alone, a pitch black basement? No thanks.

Trying to sleep in a new area was hard. You felt homesick. You miss your old room, the house noises, the feeling of it. You lived there your entire life, now you're thousands of miles away. Becker probably felt that way too, especially with how he connected with your father, they bonded. A week from now though, you'd be able to see them. It'd be easier. Another thing you couldn't stop thinking about was that man - Joel.

He seemed so different. He was kind & understanding, and that's just simply based on the short conversation the two of you had together. He was so willing to help you out, no one else was like that. It was a sweet welcoming. He was also very handsome. All the men back home weren't like that. That glimmer in his eyes wasn't something to ignore. It was the way he gazed at you that had you wrapped around the thought of him.

That brother of his was good looking too, definitely not as much, but either way. Were they both contractors? It appeared as though they had just left work so maybe they work together. And who was that smaller person walking throughout his house earlier? Had to be a girlfriend. A daughter? No way, the two of them looked to young to even have children. There was still a chance though, teen pregnancies aren't uncommon. You presume you'll deal with a lot of them as a Doctor.

Your eyes felt more & more heavy. Becker's deep breathing made you weary too. The pitch blackness of the room was helpful ; White sound would've been helpful too. Sleeping in complete silence was torture. All you could really hear was your dog and your own breathing. You were completely spent for the day. And you were ready to hit the hay.

Divider Creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #reader insert #joel miller fanfiction #slow burn #eventual smut #tlou fanfiction #tumblr fyp

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sophaeros · 5 months ago

Note

love your blog, if possible could I get an Albert and Jules lore dump? I read your other post but I am hungry for more context (and sources)

omg hii glad u like it here !! 😋 umm ok i can try to do like a rough little timeline w notable moments maybe? whatever comes to mind lol

in err 1991 i believe when julian was 13 he got sent to that one swiss boarding school to curb his alcoholism (did not work clearly) and two years later when julian was 15, 13 year-old albert also arrived. julian stayed for two years and albert stayed for six months. julian had this to say about their meeting SNIFFLES. theyre never beating the soulmate allegations i fear

How did you become friends at first? Julian: Two of us arrived in a private school in Switzerland. I felt I had nothing in common with the others. They were so different from people I knew in New York, they were obsessed by clothes Haut Couture. I missed New York so much, it’s really a part of my soul. Meeting Albert was a relief. At last, someone with whom I could talk. There was immediately something, a feeling of complementarity. We talked a lot of music, of our band plans. We gave ourselves 2 years to create a band or to bury this dream. After 2 years, we gave ourselves 2 more years, (laugh).

— the strokes for les inrockuptibles, march 2002 (x)

after albert moved back to la he and julian lost touch until 1998 when albert moved to new york at 18 to go to film school and find himself or whatever. and of course they have the most red string of fate ass second meeting oh my god it makes my stomach hurt. I COULD LITERALLY SEE HIM FROM MY WINDOW. why arent they in a stupid hallmark movie romcom COME ON

“When I first came to New York,” marvels Hammond, resplendent in red and black winklepickers, “the way things happened to me, it was like there was someone… doing it. I moved into my apartment, it was directly across the street from where Julian worked. Like, what are the odds? I could literally see him from my window.”

— albert hammond jr for q magazine, april 2002 (x)

and so albert becomes the final member of the band, completing the set ❤️ (the talk, 2013)

Albert, did you have to try out to be in The Strokes? Yeah. I remember when I met everyone. I met Julian first, then Nikolai, got really drunk one night, and then I went to go try out, even though Julian told me later that in his mind I was already in the band. How come? I was an okay player, I could play chords and stuff, but I looked awesome. (Laughs) I just looked like there was only one thing I could do: be in a band.

albert and julian lived together for seven years from 1998 to 2005 when julian got married, they had two apartments together and the first one is the most well known, it's the dumbbell shaped one. idk about the layout of the second unforch

ehhh scrubbing ahead a bit. julian wasn't there for albert's intervention in 2009 because he was on his solo tour

but happily in 2013 we get albert releasing his comeback ep through julian's label cult records (and then he leaves cult records in 2015. c'est la vie.) (nme september 2013)

“I’d been talking to Julian about wanting to release something on his label since he started it,” Hammond Jr explains. “He was like, ‘Let’s put out a song’. So I went, ‘Alright, I’ll start working with Gus [Oberg] and maybe after we do a few songs there’ll be one that’s fun in there.’ I sent him the first, ‘Cooker Ship’, and he was floored. I got an email back with a million ‘yes’-es on it!”

speaking of which. i've posted this before but SIGHHHH (the talk 2013) that song is for his fucking then-gf justyna. (well, most likely. i dont think hes ever outright stated who he wrote it for but the mv is pretty domestic (for the most part......) and theres a bit where theyre kinda dancing in the living room which is one of the things albert told an interviewer he and justyna did a lot → vice june 2015 but of course i suppose you never know)

Kind of like The Strokes’ song “You Only Live Once”… Julian wrote that. I’m in the band, but I still take his lyrics like a fan would. You always relate lyrics to yourself, and I even do that with him even though he is one of my friends and we lived together when he was writing it. God knows what they were truly about. But it came full circle when he was over listening to “St. Justice” from my new solo EP. It was really cute, he was like, “Is this lyric about me?” And I was like, “…no, man.” It really wasn’t, but it was a good circle because I’ve felt that way about so many of his lyrics. When we got in the band, Julian had such a vision, he was just a strong writer, so the first three records are all his.

and then there's. whatever the fuck is up with one way trigger. i'll make a post about that swear

ending this post here i think bc otherwise i'm never gonna post this SORRY. i'll try to think of more but the tragedy of julian/albert is that it's actually really hard to find fuel for them. unlike milex where they're apparently physically incapable of not being all over and waxing poetic about each other. but then what you Do get is kinda crazy. such is life

#ask #anon #the strokes #julian casablancas #albert hammond jr #casamond #sorry u sent this ask more than a month ago 😭😭😭 idk how much of this is still new info to you MBBB

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ask-the-critters-survival-au · 7 months ago

Text

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

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ducktracy · 7 months ago

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How did you became a fan of looney tunes, particularly the porky and daffy shorts?

SO! THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ASK because i get asked this a lot (and have talked about it pretty frequently lately), and i feel every time i answer i have 80 explanations. all of them are true! but i kinda want a repository so i can reference back to my thoughts if and when the question comes up, because i love talking about it. saying this now because usually when i intend to answer an ask quickly, that's never how it goes.

TLDR for both is: i was bored one day, saw Boomerang was airing the shorts, remembered hearing good things about the shorts and was immediately swept away. a series of rabbit holes clinched my obsession. as for Daffy and Porky, i find them intensely interesting and they're also some of the most i've ever found myself reflected in a fictional character, Daffy especially.

NOW THE LONGER ANSWERS!

SO. as i mentioned above, there's about 80 different explanations i could give for what got me into Looney Tunes. (this is not true and heavy hyperbole, but it is true that my interest was clinched in a number of ways). the most objective of those is that, i was very curious about learning the history and production of cartoons, especially because i had aspirations of making my own cartoons one day and working in the industry. at the time, there was (and still kind of is...) a popular animation blog by a, uh, let's say disgraced cartoonist. said disgraced cartoonist had a blog where he would discuss animation technique, history, and in spite of knowing he was disgraced and very publicly disavowing him to the point of overcompensation, i drank the Kool-Aid and fell into the trap of reading his blog pretty religiously and absorbing a bunch of information that i have now spent years unlearning and have no interest in returning to.

BUT ANYWAY. said cartoonist's blog discussed LT quite often as a pinnacle of great cartooning. i never actually went out of my way to check out any of the shorts mentioned--it was just sort of an understanding of "oh wow, these are important. got it." and not putting the research in

come September 2019 (the 13th to be exact because i'm neurotic and memorize dates). i'm home alone for the weekend and bored out of my mind. channel surf. see Boomerang is showing LT shorts. think, "hey, i've spent years reading about how good this stuff is, i didn't watch it very often as a kid, let's see if the rumors about this being good are true." AND THEY WERE! the first short i saw was Bob McKimson's Upswept Hare which is actually not one i go out of my way to watch often, it's whatever, but i thought it was amazing that i was able to watch cartoons from 1953 on my TV. even though my obsession with golden age cartoons is recent, i've had a lifelong nostalgia affliction--i've been interested in things that are old for as long as i can remember.

after that was Rabbit Transit which, wow, 1947?? that's even older! and even COOLER!!! and it's true! Friz Freleng's Bugs is now my favorite director's interpretation of the character. i was amazed at how funny it was, how fast everything was, how lush the music sounded and how intricate the animation was. i genuinely did not know animation could be that smooth and lush. it was seriously mind blowing. likewise, seeing these McKimson and Freleng Bugs shorts defied the notion i had for the longest time where i only thought Bugs was just a terminally bored beacon of invincibility, since those were the shorts i remembered most from my childhood. Rabbit Transit ends with Bugs being dragged away by cops kicking and screaming--i thought it was HILARIOUS and so different than what i was used to. i really wanted to see more Bugs Bunny and see how my notions of what he was continued to be challenged.

another short included in the line-up was A Pest in the House, which is one of the major dominos in this entire domino effect. i didn't watch very much LT as a kid (only just on DVDs during road trips, but i recall seeing a few on Cartoon Network or Boomerang at some point in my life), but i do recall having a particular dislike towards Daffy since he was mean. also, he was not a cute and cuddly cat and/or rabbit like Sylvester and Bugs, which did not appease my child mind, who loved cats and rabbits. (my childhood cat looked like Sylvester so i've always been fond of him, i do recall owning a Sylvester balloon on a stick at one point as a small child, so yay?)

needless to say, my hopes were not very high. Daffy Duck, who cares, whatever. so, of course, finding out that Daffy is small and cute here and acting amicably, smiling, and being obnoxious was VERY surprising and novel to me. the bit where he's cracking up and can't even tell the poor hotel patron a joke because he's too busy laughing and sobbing and screaming and then FORGETS IT was my canon event. my "oh god, i have never related more to anything than i do right now in this moment." (this is still true, as this exact thing happened to me on a Zoom call recently and i was literally sobbing cracking myself up at a stupid joke i thought of that literally isn't funny at all, and i kept thinking of that scene which just made me laugh harder).

that, in conjunction with this scene and how QUICKLY IT MOVED, how SMOOTHLY, how ENERGETIC the music is, the hilarity that is Elmer's "?" above his head... i HAD TO SEE MORE. i was so interested to learn that Daffy wasn't just a self-obsessed greedy miser all the time. i had no idea cartoons could move this way. you can time the action to the music?? that's GENIUS! so A Pest in the House was a very big break through moment for me and kickstarted my infatuation with Daffy Duck.

another breakthrough was watching Falling Hare for the first time thanks to Boomerang as well. it was the first Bob Clampett cartoon i saw as a cognizant adult, and i knew to look out for it because this disgraced cartoon creator certainly loved to make his bootlicking of Clampett very, very, very well known. i thought that it was amazing to be seeing a short from 1943 on TV!!! SO ANCIENT! so old! who knew they made cartoons that old! and, most importantly, who knew they made cartoons that old THAT MOVE AS GORGEOUSLY AS THEY DO HERE!!!! GEEEEEEZ, you wanna talk about never seeing cartoons move like that before... and not only that, i loved the humor, i loved the characterizations, i loved even the most hokey gags in it. i decided that to really jumpstart my interest in LT, rather than waiting around to catch Boomerang airings, i'd binge the entire Clampett chronology. i did indeed do this, and it wasn't until i got to around 1942 or so that i finally began to branch out and watch other directors

THERE ARE STILL MORE BRANCHES TO THE STORY! SOMEHOW! while i wasn't much of a LT fan before this, i WAS a Tom and Jerry fan. was a very big fan as a kid. i didn't go out and watch the shorts as an adult, but i did listen to the soundtracks. i recall listening to one of the soundtracks, and a comment on it talked about comparisons between Scott Bradley, who did the MGM scores, and Carl Stalling, who did WB's. i was like "huh, wonder who this Stalling fella is" and looked up one of his music compilations. found one from the '30s, went "there's such a thing as Depression-era music scores??" and listened to it.

one of the comments on that video gave a timestamp and mentioned a Porky's Romance. i went to the timestamp, listened to the song, and thought it was one of the most beautiful things i had heard in my life. i still have a screen recording saved in my camera roll from when i first listened to it. i thought, this is so gorgeous, i have to see what cartoon this is from.

and lo and behold, the cartoon about Porky Pig offing himself because he got rejected in his marriage proposal was the first Porky short i saw as an adult. similar to my Bugs and Daffy revelations, there were SO many things that intrigued me. largely: I HAD NO IDEA THEY MADE THE CARTOONS IN BLACK AND WHITE! seeing these beloved cartoon characters in black and white was the coolest thing to me! i had to learn more! likewise, i never knew that Porky was fat! or that these shorts would deal with such dark subject matter! or that they could be so representative of their time with the music styling and background design!

SO, all of these sort of culminated together. i wanted to see more LT, i wanted to see more cartoons that challenged my perception of them. i wanted to see more old things. shocking things. beautiful things. my main path into LT was binging a bunch of the Bob Clampett cartoons, which coincided with my interest in seeing more Porky shorts and more black and white shorts since the first 4 years of his career were nothing BUT black and white Porky cartoons. i also recall checking out Porky's Duck Hunt around the same time i watched Romance for the first time, but i'm not sure why. i think i was reading up on the Wikipedia article for A Pest in the House, learned that Daffy used to be crazy, and wanted to see it for myself. i also fell in love with the novelty of seeing him HOOHOO and jump around and act a fool, as well as the very present 30s-isms in that short.

i began to branch out to other directors, a lot of my introductions boiling down to "i saw this on Google and it looked interesting" (i know that's how i discovered Yankee Doodle Daffy). there was a period in early October 2019 where i was beginning to lose a little interest and fixating on other shows instead, but i watched Porky in Wackyland for the first time and, well, HERE I YAM! likewise, seeing praise about Baby Bottleneck and The Great Piggy Bank Robbery got me to jump ahead in my self imposed Clampett chronology and watch those for the first time (October 18th, 2019, a day that will forever live in infamy). needless to say, it was one of the smartest decisions of my life since those are two of my favorite cartoons of all time. Baby Bottleneck impressed me so much that it literally gave me heart palpitations SO SEVERE i genuinely considered calling my parents to tell them i might need to go to the hospital. i seriously thought i was having a heart attack. no cartoon has ever made me feel like that since. that was a defining "i need to do this" moment for me. again, i reiterate, talk about not knowing the possibilities of how animation could move.

and from thereon out, i continued to go on my little rabbit holes. i started my reviews in December 2019 as an excuse to motivate myself to see every Looney Tunes cartoon ever made (which is a mission i completed on December 31st, 2022.) i've seen and even own some of the animation art from the cartoons themselves in person, i've had relatives of the directors praise my work, i can directly owe my job to LT (and am known as the LT person--specifically, the pig and duck person--by my bosses, coworkers, and peers), i've received job offers from Warner Bros... all because i got bored one day and decided to channel surf.

it's been nearly 5 years now. September 2019, i was in a very low point in my life. i was recovering from a very messy and rather traumatic break-up, there was some related drama affecting my friendships, i had just started college and was missing all the friends and relationships i'd built in high school, and i was really grappling with my mental health as a result. this introduction couldn't have come at a perfect time. i went from being despondent and listless and depressed to actively looking forward to waking up and discovering a new cartoon to watch because it meant i'd learn something new. i really look back on that time fondly. i cringe at a lot of what i was saying and doing back then, as i've learned so much more and matured a lot since then, but i'm still so lucky to have had that time in my life. and even though i'm 5 years in, and even though i've calmed down in a lot of aspects, that excitement never really goes away and i don't forsee it doing so. i can tell this is going to be a lifelong fixture for me. i don't have any doubt about it. calling it a "hyperfixation" or "interest" seems to temporary and diminutive; too many areas of my life have been affected by it and it's really just ingrained in me now, and will continue to do so. i'm so lucky for that.

SO! TO GET COMPARATIVELY LESS PHILOSOPHICAL BUT STILL RELEVANTLY SO, answering your question about Daffy and Porky specifically

as i talked about above, much of my investment in them comes from really identifying with the both of them. Daffy a bit moreso, but certainly Porky as well. i find myself in Daffy's exuberance, passion, impulsiveness, his emotionality, his... shall we say "neuroticisms", always living life at a high frequency, being a very all or nothing person, his often fleeting attention span and endeavors, his obnoxiousness, good humor, his charisma (this feels so conceited of me to say but i've had multiple people told me i'm charismatic--i don't entirely believe so but i think it is worth bringing up, if nothing else), his at-times overly trusting demeanor. all of these descriptions are more in line with the 40s Daffy rather than the Daffy most folks know, though there is some overlap and i can't say there aren't some traits of the later Daffy i don't see myself in either. namely impulsiveness, a tendency to be a bit overbearing, etc... that's why i can relate so much to him, because he's not just a character who i relate to for positives.

Porky, i can relate a lot to his idiosyncrasies, his stubbornness, his obliviousness, a general awkwardness, [usually] good heart, innocence, occasionally hare trigger temper (i do not consider myself an angry person thank goodness and i'd definitely consider myself more optimistic than most, but if i am mad i am very mad and have a very hard time concealing it), which leads me to my next point in also being pretty transparent, a little bit of a stutter, and so forth

me being able to relate to the both of them certainly does help in pushing them up the ranks, but my enjoyment doesn't hinge on that because i'm thankfully able to see them as their own characters (and i think if i just saw them as reflections of Me the whole time, it'd be a bit uncomfortable). that's the biggest draw: their dynamic is so intensely interesting to me and unlike anything else offered by any of the other characters in the cartoons.

i'm mostly interested in the cartoons and the people behind the scenes rather than the characters, which is funny to say since character and characterization is super important to me. maybe this'll change! but as of right now, i don't really care to think up any headcanons for The Tasmanian Devil or Pepe le Pew or what have you. i'm namely interested in the characters if it directly relates to their context with their creators. i was just saying the other day that i tend to be averse to things that have the LT cast in a big ensemble, even if you remove the "oh they're a happy family" aspect from it. i worded it more succinctly here:

Daffy and Porky are the only real exceptions to this, and it's likewise because they're some of the only characters who weren't bound to a certain director. Tex Avery only ever directed 3 Daffy cartoons, and Friz Freleng, as much as i love the Porkys he did direct and wish he did more, didn't seem very interested in pursuing Porky the same as he did with his other characters like Yosemite Sam or Sylvester (both of whom being some of my favorites, Sylvester ranks behind Daffy and Porky for me in terms of favorites. amazing character.) this likewise offers them a lot of freedom, as they're subject to more interpretation by more directors

their dynamic is the most varied out of any, and i love that. some shorts they're roommates and work together. others, they want each other's blood. my favorite is a good blend of both. but, no matter what dynamic they're in, they still feel like Daffy and Porky. they're flexible and malleable but not completely lost in who they are. i've expressed many times that they're the only two characters who can have a genuine sort of camaraderie between them in the shorts where they do and have it feel natural rather than "get a load of these guys teaming up!". in my eyes, they have the best chemistry, they play off of each other so well. my favorite Porky shorts and my favorite Daffy shorts are always the ones where they're with the other. there are genuinely no Porky and Daffy shorts i dislike outside of the sadly usual "this is racist garbage", but thankfully that's only limited to a very select handful.

much of it likewise comes down to novelty. when i first began getting into their shorts, i was AMAZED that i had never heard anyone talk about their dynamic before. granted, i probably wasn't looking, but all my life it's always been Bugs and Daffy Bugs and Daffy Bugs and Daffy--i still, maybe selfishly, think the Porky and Daffy shorts are 50x more interesting and fun to watch and it was just MINDBLOWING to me how i'd never seen anyone bring this up! how is nobody talking about how varied their dynamic is? why is nobody talking about how well they play off each other here? why is nobody talking about how funny this is? it's a feeling of sort of stumbling into a hidden diamond mind. i really like that feeling. it's why the '30s and '40s shorts are my preferred favorites; they're less talked about, which means i have more room to shill them and maybe give someone the same reaction it's given me. i love that aspect of exploration.

i've been typing this out for nearly 1 hour and 25 minutes straight, and so my steam is finally beginning to run out. there's more i could say on just how much Porky and Daffy mean to me, but that's the general jist. i identify with them both a lot, i sincerely love their chemistry, i think they're one of the most interesting cartoon duos of all time, i want more people to discover them, and i just love watching them. Mel Blanc's Daffy voice is one of the most beautiful sounds i've ever heard and i'm not even exaggerating. i have so much fun picking apart Porky's stutter and seeing how it varies depending on the voice directing, and i love catching certain stutters that Mel Blanc does that feel very true to life/like something i've heard out of my own mouth before. i love how they have a bit of an underrepresented past (Porky moreso; i've really fallen in love with the Joe Dougherty era shorts). they're just so interesting and offer so much, no matter what your interest is.

WOW. this may have been the lengthiest ask i've ever answered. but, ye ask and ye shall receive, so i hope ye received!

#anonymous #asks #ref

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