#I’m pretty sure you’re the same anon that sends me a lot of my asks

[turtledork02]

yay! ratchet ref sheet!

and who is the most likely to get injured in a mission? who is the most likely to be doing the saving?

where is the autobots' base located? do they still have communication with the autobots on cybertron? and what were the jobs of the autobots before joining team prime? optimus was obviously the prime and ratchet and first aid medics, and bumblebee a scout. but what divisions were the others a part of?

Arcee is both the one who is most likely to get injured on missions, and also be the one doing the saving. She’s the team’s heavy hitter, and one of the only non-scientific members of Team Prime. (Even Bumblebee is learning from Wheeljack in his pastime, which is a lot since there isn’t much to do for 15 years.) She’s a weapons and attack specialist, and is the second biggest Autobots on the team. But over the years, especially towards the end of the war, her methods became a little more tactless and a lot more brash. Because of that, she ends up getting hurt the most. But she is SO STUBBORN about it. She’s is Ratchet’s problem patient every time and takes forever to convince to come to the medical bay.

Cybertron has been dark for a while, so the Autobots and Decepticons are scattered to the stars currently. They DO have contact with other refugee planets the Autobots prepared ahead of time, and supplies are sent to them every so often. Wheeljack is currently in contact with Bulkhead too, and the two talk a lot when they aren’t busy. I haven’t quite decided where the base is LOCATED yet, but I imagine it’s in a forest somewhere and is hidden by a giant waterfall.

Both Wheeljack and Arcee were part of the Wreckers for a while during the war. That’s where the two of them became best friends, and even after Arcee left the Wreckers, she kept in contact with Wheeljack. Wheeljack remained part of the Wreckers for most of the war, but was also a renowned scientist (and still is). Arcee left the Wreckers to join the Elite Guard, where she later became an instructor for young members. She ended up leaving the Elite Guard towards the end of the war for personal (and traumatic) reasons.

Bumblebee was only a scout for a short while during the war. He got promoted to warrior, and specializing in sharpshooting and sniping. He’s still pretty good at close combat though!

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you write something with Oscar based on this post

https://www.tumblr.com/girlonabreak/744982039484366848/may-i-offer-you-something-water-food-my

i’ll try my best anon! thank you very much for your request, i hope you like it!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want anything added.

w/c: 2.3k

oscar was a little nervous to have you over. the relationship was fairly fresh and this would be the first time you would be at his place. he’d spent the week prior cleaning every single nook and cranny he could find, then going on tiktok and finding out how to clean the ones he didn’t even know existed. not that you would be inspecting the space behind his fridge for it’s cleanliness.

three days before, when he’d gone shopping, he texted you asking if you liked this specific brand of chocolate and if you would like some for when you stayed over at the weekend.

oscar had gotten more blankets, pillows and even got you a new teddy bear, scared that you would forget the one you couldn’t sleep without. he was determined that you were having a good nights sleep with him. you had slept together before, but not properly. those had only been you falling asleep during a film after a date or oscar coming over to yours the day after the race weekend and feeling so jet lagged he fell asleep on your couch two minutes after you started carding your fingers through his hair.

you had always made him feel so welcome at yours so he was desperate to make you feel the same. even though this was a bit different than those times he was at yours.

oscar pottered around fixing things that didn’t really need fixing at all. he triple checked the fridge incase all the food inside had gone missing. then he checked his bank account to make sure he still had his money and he hadn’t been hacked, just incase you wanted to order in or even go to the shops.

a soft knock at his door shoves oscar out of his thoughts, he runs to the door to answer. you were on the other side, weekend bag in hand. you had little to no makeup on and your hair was thrown up not too messily. oscar then thought about if you would want to shower and how he only had manly products. how could he forget to buy you shower stuff?

“osc?” you ask as you stand in the doorway. oscar blinks once, twice, then is scrambling to take your bag off you.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry. i don’t know where i was there. you look gorgeous. come in.” he says as he spins around and stands to the side to let you walk inside first.

you slowly walk inside and the first thing you notice is the amount of candles he has lit. it give the living room the most homely feel.

“your place is lovely, osc. it’s so cozy.” you tell him turning around from looking at the kitchen to face him. oscar grins at your words.

“thank you, pretty. you want me to put your bag in the room?” oscar asks, feeling a lot less high strung now that you were actually here in front of him. that usually did help calm him down.

you nod. oscar tries his best not to leave you standing all by yourself in the living room for too long. he basically sprints to his room and back. a blink and you didn’t even know he was gone, type of situation.

you’re not standing in the living room when he comes back thought. you’re sitting on the couch. you look like you belong there. it sends a wave of affection to oscar’s heart.

“you want to watch a film?” you ask him from the couch. you already had the remote in your hands.

“‘course, what kind are you feeling?” oscar asks, heading to the cupboard in the hallway to get the massive blanket he’d bought at the shops a few days earlier.

“dunno.” is your reply. oscar can tell you have a film in mind but you may be a little embarrassed to ask to watch it. as he comes to sit down beside you, he throws the blanket over the top of you and it almost suffocates you. instead of commenting on it you just get comfy. oscar rakes his brain for previous conversations about films to find the one you could watch everyday and not get tired of. as he remembers he snatches the remote off of you to bring it up. you don’t say anything but you watch on skeptically.

“this one seem okay? i’ve never seen it before but i heard you like it.” oscar says, a cocky smirk on his face as he sees the look on yours after you realise the film. you grin.

“yeah i supposed we could stick this one on and give it a go.” you pretend like you couldn’t quote the dialogue in your sleep. oscar pressed play on the film and instantly feels the need to be touching you. you had chosen to sit in the corner of oscar’s L shaped couch, an incredibly you thing to do, oscar thought. but because of where you decided to sit oscar was unsure how to go about touching you. he gives up trying to think of ways to get you in his lap.

“come sit in my lap.”

you turn your head from the tv, the opening credits rolling in the screen. “okay.” you reply, shuffling to follow his request.

it ended up that oscar was laying in the corner of the couch and faced the tv. you were sitting to his side with your legs slung over his, shoulders brushing against each other with every breathe. oscar holds one of your hands underneath the massive blanket, the other traces his name on your ankle - just above your socks.

a quarter of the way through, you shuffled around to get comfortable again, your head ended up resting on his bicep as you had moved down a little more. oscar had to hold back the coo that threatened to escape him as he felt your check squash up against his skin. oscar throws his focus back on the tv, as hard as it is he wants to know the film you love so much.

at the end of the first act, oscar moves his attention back to you, he wonders if you’re hungry but are just too scared to ask. or if you were waiting on him to offer you something. were you tired and just wanted to move to bed right now? it wasn’t that late surely. what if you actually did want to go for that shower right now? would he have enough time to go buy some flowery shampoo and body wash so you wouldn’t end up smelling like him?

“can i get you anything to eat?” oscar asks, thumb rubbing over your ankle bone. he wonders if this is the ankle you broke when you were five, or if it was the other one.

“are you hungry?” you ask oscar, head turning to look up at him. the aussie almost melts at your expression. “i am if you are.” you say to him.

this confuses oscar but he decides that eating wouldn’t hurt. he doesn’t care if you don’t eat it all.

“you want to order in or just make something here?” he asks again. it makes him feel bad making you choose but he wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable with him tonight. the time when he can just know what you want and do it for you was right around the corner and he couldn’t wait for it.

“order in.” you say after a few moments of silence. “don’t want to move from here until bed.” you explain. although oscar didn’t think you needed to explain, he thought it was cute. he thought the same thing anyway, not having felt this content in months.

“fine by me. i’ll order it and it should be here soon.”

your film finishes and you and oscar finish the food. you talk a little at the end of the film, asking him about how lando and zak were doing and how strong the car was. don’t get oscar wrong, as much as he loved his job and the fact that you took so much interest in what he did, he just wanted a day where he could sit with you and hypothesise whether or not spider-man was too young to be spidering across the city. instead of telling you this he changed the topic, comfortably so you don’t notice.

“it’s getting late. are you getting tired, pretty?” he asks. he can see the way your shoulders are a little more slumped as you sit in front of him, the film behind you having ended and instead playing a trailer for some unrelated tv series. you nod to answer his question. “a little, yeah.”

“c’mon then. bedtime for us.” oscar says picking you up by your waist and flinging you over his shoulder. he carries you to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. you are laughing all the way there. oscar’s already thinking about which ring would suit you more. he goes in the cabinet underneath the sink and grabs a pack of two toothbrushes. one pink, one blue. it’s so domestic, oscar nearly burst when he seen them in the shops and thought of giving the pink one to you.

“i know you brought a bag full of stuff and you probably have a toothbrush with you but i thought you could keep this one here and i could maybe clear out a drawer for you in my bedroom for you to keep things here so you don’t have to go back and forth for clothes.” oscar rambles as he puts toothpaste on both brushes and hands yours to you. it’s like oscar keeps forgetting that this is the first time you’re sleeping over, mind already thinking about the next time, and the next and the next.

oscar shoves his brush in his mouth to stop his mouth. you laugh at him. “i would like that. thank you osc.” you say before copying him and brushing your teeth. oscar watches like you were doing something really interesting, his eyes darting over your face. tonight he learns another new thing about you, you’re a really messy brusher. toothpaste slipping down your chin as you brush. he has to hold back the laugh that longs to escape him, not wanting to cover you in more toothpaste than you already have all over you.

oscar spits into the sink then quickly rinses his mouth with mouthwash, then spitting that out too. you follow his actions, hopping down from the counter to spit into the sink, standing in front of oscar. before you can rinse your mouth out with mouthwash though, oscar turns your face to his with a gentle hand.

“you got a little something..” you smile at his words. oscar belonged in a romcom for sure. the boy’s thumb coming out to brush away the leftover toothpaste on your chin. you smile at him in thanks but your smile falls as he wipes it on the shoulder of your t-shirt.

“oscar! why would you do that! what’s wrong with you!?” you squeal. oscar laughs hard, his head thrown back in joy. you’re not really mad, the smile on your face hard to miss. it’s hard to be angry at the boy in front of you who literally looks like the human version of the sun.

once you’ve finished in the bathroom - oscar yapping away as you take your makeup off and done your skincare at the sink - he pulls you to his bed.

“you want to change in here or do you want me to go to the bathroom?” oscar asks, throwing you the t-shirt he’s just washed (and maybe sprayed with his cologne before you came over). you catch it before hesitating with your answer. oscar answers for you.

“why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and i can get a big reveal, seeing you with my t-shirt on?” oscar asks, giddy at his own idea. you nod, if only just to please him, although you do like his idea, thinking it’s cute he wants that.

you’re quick to get changed, your hair taken out of the ponytail to hand down, it will probably get in your face tonight. you hurry out the bathroom to find oscar sitting on top of the bed in his own pyjamas. oscar’s eyes light up at the sight of you.

“jesus christ, pretty girl. you’re going to kill me.” he says standing up, arms outstretched like he would die if he didn’t touch you in the next ten seconds. you happily fall into his embrace. face against his chest. oscar’s nose in your hair.

“you smell like you and me.” oscar smiles as he pull away from the hug and pulls you into bed instead. you laugh at his discovery. “as long as i smell good.” you tell him.

after a quick okay fight over who was getting what side of the bed, you are both cuddled up to each other. it most definitely won’t stay like this all night because what oscar doesn’t know yet is you move a lot in your sleep. he’ll find that out in the morning, but for now he’s happy to have you right where he wants you. oscar is big spoon as his arms are wrapped around you, big hands under your top and on your warm, soft skin. leg over your hip, keeping you trapped under him, not that you would ever complain about that.

the teddy bear oscar had gotten you incase you forgot yours was laying at the bottom of the bed, while you clutch yours to your chest. one of your hands ghosting over oscar’s on your stomach.

the tv is on, playing some sitcom you’d asked for. oscar never usually sleeps with the tv on but for you? he would sleep on a bed of nails if it made you comfortable.

“g’night, pretty baby.” oscar mumbles into your hair, not bothering that it was in his face. you mumble something of the sort back, he knew you were basically asleep. ‘this is my future.’ oscar thought to himself before he fell asleep.

[holdinbacksecrets]

svt finds out you were married before you met them

anon… this request is golden. thank you so much for sending it! i had the best time writing these 🤍

seventeen find out you were married before being with them

seungcheol: he’s at the bodega around the corner because you’re out of… he forgot the excuse. luckily, it was mumbled and difficult to make out, so he’ll bring back coffee. his palms are sweating and he looks up at the ceiling as if the answer’s in between the popcorn. now, you’re his. he’s yours. you’re one. but you were someone else’s, and that idea isn’t new to him, but knowing that someone was your husband makes it feel different. he looks up again. “please give me something here.” a light flickers. he leaves without the coffee

jeonghan: he stops to watch you spoon strawberry jam onto slices of toast. they’re golden brown triangles beside scrambled eggs, and you’re making sure the bright red covers the golden brown surface perfectly, just like you always do. the only red he can think about is the blood his heart is pumping, and the fact that his heart stopped pumping for a moment or two

joshua: “now everything makes sense.” “what do you mean?” “sometimes you’re just too good at being my partner.” “that has nothing to do with being married before. i’m literally just in love and obsessed with you. actually, being married did make me strict about the dishes. i’ll never go to bed with a pile in the sink.” “baby, you won’t go to bed if there’s a spoon in the sink or a crumb on the countertop.” “and how good does it feel to wake up and see a clean kitchen, hmm?”

jun: he’s confused. he’s wearing it, swallowing it, holding it in his gaze, and suddenly wondering how well he knows you— why it took you so long to tell him

soonyoung: “i knew it was a mistake by the next morning. i woke up craving my mom’s pancakes.” “have her send us the recipe.” you squeeze his hand and bow your head so your lips can brush its palm. “don’t worry, history won’t repeat itself.”

wonwoo: the photo album’s on his lap. it feels like a fever dream to look at you. you watch the sky through the window, craving color after too much black and white. “i’m mad at myself.” “why?” “i should’ve waited for you.”

jihoon: the ring came rolling out of its hiding spot and stopped in the middle of your bedroom floor. the sunlight caught it. he blinked a million times, felt his lips part too. you let it be. you exhaled, feeling relieved to part with the secret. finally

seokmin: “look at me. do i look upset?” “no… you eyes are all shiny” like he might cry. “it means a lot that you told me.” “i shouldn’t have waited so long.” “you really didn’t wait that long.” “are you sure you’re ok? do you… am i…” “yes.”

mingyu: the words come out on a sunday morning in the park near your place. your head’s on his shoulder. his hand’s on your thigh; it’s warm and the slightest bit rough—different from the cool, soft breeze on your cheek, on the back of your neck. he asks about your happiness and when it left the space you created with your ex. he wants to know what he can do to make sure that never happens again. he wants to make sure he’s not missing anything

minghao: he’s watching you. there’s gentle love in his eyes. he’s hoping you’ll look up and away from the sudsy dishes for just a moment long enough to realize he’s not mad. to realize it doesn’t change anything

seungkwan: he wonders about your wedding dress and if you still have it. he wonders about pictures and videos and the expression on your face at the altar. moments he’s dreamed about are already existing in memories, have already been seen by your loved ones, might be sour in your head. would you do it all again? do you even want to?

vernon: “i can’t help but wonder how many people make the same mistake as me… think something’s love when it’s not.” “do you really think of it as a mistake?” “pretty sure that’s just a fact.” “i’m not so sure… aren’t you the same person who’s told me for years that everything happens for a reason?” “maybe i just tell myself that to lessen the blow.” “possibly, but maybe it’s true. maybe that step that you think was in the wrong direction was crucial. i wouldn’t have found you any other way.”

chan: “i feel like i shouldn’t be looking at this… it’s like i’m seeing your dress before i’m supposed to. i shouldn’t know what you’ll look like walking down the aisle.” “this isn’t who i am anymore. think of how much time has passed. i have brand new skin now.” “…i thought you were going to say something romantic.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

she's begging you to stay stay

Matty Healy + preteen!lost!daughter!OFC!r

warnings (buckle up): angst, little fluff, language, absent father, dead mom, cancer, children's home, R IS TWELVE, foster care, insomnia, a lot of these things are mentioned but aren't in graphic detail at all. R HAS A NAME IM TRYING SOEMTHING

a/n: I got this request and was lowk kinds unsure but I just started and couldn't stop typing. im nil a lot of that I post is super short but this like literally like 7 thousand words which Ig is pretty standard but whatevs for me its crazy. I might actually hate this I genuinely haven't decided yet. anon depending on what you think im ether sorry or you're welcome lol <3

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper, a million thoughts racing through your mind. You feel a mix of grief and numbness, a strange emptiness you can’t quite shake. The scent of mold and old candles is an odd comfort to the starkness and uncomfort of the room around you. You hear the faint sound of Nora’s voice drifting through the thin walls. You don’t move, just keep staring at your hands in your lap, the same position you’ve held for 3 days now, pretending not to hear the voice on the other side of the wall.

“Is this Matthew Healy?” she says, her voice steady.

“Depends. Who’s this?” The voice on the other end is wary, guarded.

“This is Nora from Wess Hill Children’s Home in London. How are you today?”

She could hear shuffling on the other side. “Fine. What’s this about?”

Nora takes a deep breath, glancing at your continuing. “Mr. Healy, on Tuesday we got a call asking for an emergency placement for a girl. Her mother passed away. She’s 12 years old, name is Matilda Moss - does that ring a bell?”

If you were right next to Nora you would have felt the unamusement in his voice. “‘Fraid not, ma’am.”

Nora’s expression tightens slightly. “Interesting. What I find really interesting is that on her birth certificate, it lists you, Mr. Healy, as her biological father.”

There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nora sighs, her eyes softening as she looks back at your door again. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way, truly. But I have a home that only fits 24 and a long waitlist of children, so I need to know if I need to send this child into foster care or tell her that her father will be coming to see her.”

“W-Wait a minute. How are we even sure it’s my child? There could be thousands of other white blokes in London with the same name. How can I even believe you? How do I know you’re not a scammer or some idiot trying a prank?”

Nora’s voice remains calm, but there’s still an edge. “Does the name Florence Moss mean anything to you, sir? Ring any bells?”

The line went silent.

“I need to know what it’s gonna be, sir. I’m not trying to inconvenience you either way; I just need an answer.”

You hear a long sigh on the other end. “I-I don’t…I don’t know—”

“She was sick, Matthew. Cancer.”

There’s a heavy silence. Then, Nora speaks again, her voice gentle but firm. “Her will clearly states that in the unforeseen circumstance of death, She wanted her daughter to be placed with her father, you.”

Another pause. “What’s her name again?”

“Matilda George Moss-Healy.”

“And she’s 12?”

“12 and 2 months.”

A soft exclamation, almost a whisper. “Wow. I’ll be there at 3.”

It didn’t matter what Nora could do or say or give you to make you feel better, There was nothing that could be done in order to make the past 3 days not feel like a living hell. There was nothing you, yourself, could physically do to make the permanent ache in your heart disappear. The only thing, you thought, that could make this all go away, that could make this nightmare end, was your mother. But she was gone, and there was nothing that could be done. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize that in just a few hours, you’ll meet the man you’ve wondered about your entire life.

—-------

If there was one thought that was evidently clear in Matty’s mind, it was that he needed to call George.

His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled for his phone, the sleek device feeling unusually heavy in his grasp. He pressed it to his ear, each ring seeming slower and slower as it rung. He paced the small, cluttered room, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Finally, George’s voice crackled through the line, casual and unbothered. “Sup, dipshit.”

“I just got the strangest call,” Matty said, his voice strong, skipping over the usual pleasantries.

“‘Kay?” George’s tone was wary.

“From a woman working in a children’s home?” Matty continued, his mind still reeling from the conversation.

“What charity they want you to perform now?” George asked, his voice light but curious.

“No, it’s not that.” Matty paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s about Flo? Florence Moss?” Matty’s voice wavered slightly, the name stirring up a flood of memories.

There was a noticeable pause, the air thick with anticipation. “Woah! That’s a name I never thought I’d hear again!” George finally replied, his tone shifting to something lighter, a huge comparison to Matty’s frantic state.

“So that’s a yes?” Matty pressed.

“You kidding? I LOVED Flo. She was like a sister to me! Shame though, innit?” He said, refurrging to the breakup Matty and Florence went through. “Anyways, what about her?” His voice softened.

“She died, George. Couple days ago. Cancer.” Matty’s words were blunt, but they carried a heavy weight.

Another long pause followed, the silence almost deafening. “You doin’ a bit? ‘Cause it’s not funny, mate-”

“It’s not a bit. And she had a child.” Matty’s voice broke slightly, the reality of the situation hitting him.

“What?” George’s shock was palpable, even through the phone.

“Who has my name on the birth certificate?” Matty continued, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Not shittin’ you.”

George was in pure disbelief. “How can you be sure?”

Matty ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “Um, ‘cause Flo and I were together for like two fucking years and we broke up like 12 years ago and the girl’s age is 12?”

“It’s a GIRL? Oh mate, you’re fucked.” His bluntness would usually make him light, but this time it made him nearly question his entire life.

“Not the sentiment I need right now.” Matty snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“What are you gonna do?” George’s voice was calmer now, but still tinged with concern.

“I-I feel like I have to go get her? Right? Otherwise, she’s off to foster care? I mean, she’s my child. Right? I don’t know. Maybe not.” Matty’s words tumbled out in a rush, his uncertainty evident.

George sighed, a long, weary sound. “I think you’re fucked either way.”

“Oh, thanks sooooo much, Uncle George,”

“No. I mean, if you bring this girl with you, raise her, be a dad, do whatever the fuck, your life is gonna change, right? If you call that woman back, tell her to send her into foster care, although that woman might legally have to tell you ‘Okay. Thank you,’ we both know you would never forget her and maybe even end up regretting that choice.”

Matty stood in silence. He knew his friend was right. No matter what he chose, his life was about to be irrevocably changed. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders, pressing down with a relentless force.

—-------

“Hi, um, I’m looking for Nora?” His voice echoed slightly in the wide, institutional hallway.

“Ah, you must be Matthew. Nice to meet you.” Nora’s voice, though warm, had an undertone of weariness, like someone who had spent years navigating the complicated emotions of others. She shifted uneasily. “I informed Matilda of your…arrival today…and she’s not the happiest about it.”

“Meaning?”

“She won’t come out of her room.”

“Oh. Great.” Matty ran a hand through his hair, worry clear on his face.

“Just…keep in mind she’s still mourning.” Nora’s sing-song voice couldn’t hide the gravity of the situation. She led him down a narrow hallway, the walls adorned with children’s drawings and faded motivational posters. The scent of old wood, cleaning supplies, and the faintest hint of sadness hung in the air.

“Tilly! Someone’s here to see you.” Nora’s voice called out cheerfully, a futile attempt to coax you out.

“Matilda! Come on out, darling, it's alright.” She paused, listening for any sound of movement. “You know I have the key right here; I can just open it if I wanted to.” Nora said, voice comedic for the times. “Tilly, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

After a silent few seconds, she took her ring of keys and picked one to unlock your door.

Inside your room, you sat curled up on the bed, hugging your knees to your chest. The peeling wallpaper, once probably a cheerful pattern, now seemed to close in around you, a suffocating reminder of the world outside your door. The scent of mildew and the faint smell of your mother’s perfume clung to your clothes, creating a strange, bittersweet comfort. Nora’s voice penetrated the cocoon of silence you’d wrapped yourself in.

“Tilly, this is Matthew.” Nora’s voice softened, a hint of sympathy in her words. “He’s here to take you home, my love.”

You visibly winced at the word ‘home.’ Home was a concept that had shattered the day your mother died.

Nora took a step towards your bed, slowly rubbing your back in order to coax you to come out. “Why don’t you sit up, my love?” Nora said gently. You didn’t move.

She sighed. “C’mon, Tills.”

With a heavy sigh, you slowly uncurled yourself and sat up.

Matty felt out of place, a stranger in a place that was the closest thing you had to refuge.

“I’ll just leave you two alone for a moment. I’ll be right outside.” Nora closed the door softly, leaving you and Matty in an awkward silence.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and uncertainty. The room seemed to shrink around him as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’ve gone through a lot in the past 48 hours,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his own emotions was evident, and he hesitated, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red from crying. The raw pain and vulnerability in your gaze made his heart ache. “You don’t have to take me with you out of…guilt,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to be here now just because you didn’t want to be here before.” The accusation hung in the air, a heavy reminder of his absence in your life.

He winced, the truth of your words cutting deep. “It’s not guilt, Matilda,” he replied, taking another step closer. “I genuinely didn’t know. If I had, things would have been different. I would have been there for you and your mother.” His voice broke slightly, the regret palpable. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m here now because I want to be. Because you deserve better than what you’ve been given.”

You studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. His eyes were earnest, the sorrow in them mirroring your own grief. “Why didn’t she tell you?” you asked, the question that had been gnawing at you since you learned the truth.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the unknown. “Maybe she thought it was for the best. Maybe she was scared. I wish I had the answers, but all I can do now is be here for you.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken questions and the ghosts of what might have been. “I’ve spent my whole life wondering about you,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. “And now you’re here, and I don’t know what to think.”

He nodded, understanding the turmoil within you. “I can’t change the past, Matilda. But I can promise you this: I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and cared for. I’ve got a house, with a nice room, food, and I think staying there would be better than the rotting twin mattress you’re sitting on in the smallest room I have ever seen that’s probably infested with black mold.”

“Everywhere in London has black mold,” you muttered, a hint of defiance in your voice.

“Mine might have less?” He offered a tentative smile. “Come home, Matilda.”

“I don’t have a home. Not anymore.” Your voice was barely a whisper, the pain of loss weighing heavily on your words.

“I’m not saying this has to be forever. If you want to leave and go live with someone else, then that’s fine by me, but if you don’t come with me tonight, they’re gonna put you in foster care with a family who more than likely won’t give a shit about you.” He paused, gauging your reaction. “She didn’t tell you that, did she?”

You shook your head, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I don’t want you to go somewhere without knowing that you’ll be safe.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked surprised, almost disbelieving.

You paused once more, “...Okay.”

—-------

Matty let you be for a moment as he told Nora about the news. She was overjoyed and surprised as well. They let you know that Matty would be taking you home. As they talked, your mind wandered, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within you. You glanced around the room, noticing every detail—the worn carpet, the sagging ceiling, the chipped paint on the window sill. Everything felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a dream you couldn't wake up from.

You tried to grab his attention, your thoughts racing. You almost called out saying ‘Dad’ but stopped yourself just in time, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue. The idea of calling him that seemed too intimate, too close for someone who had been a stranger just hours ago. Your mother had always been careful with her words when you asked about your father. She painted vague pictures of him, always avoiding specifics. Now that he was here, standing just a few feet away, the reality of his presence was overwhelming.

Would ‘Matty’ be awkward? He was indeed your father, but calling him that didn’t feel right either. You had no shared history, no foundation of familiarity. The name felt too casual, too friendly for someone who had suddenly appeared in your life amid the chaos and grief. You felt a pang of frustration, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you.

As you struggled with your thoughts, you offered a simple “Hey,” to get his attention instead. Your voice was soft, almost tentative, as if testing the waters of this new, uncertain relationship. He turned to you, his expression a mixture of relief and anxiety, mirroring the storm of emotions within you.

He responded with a gentle smile, his eyes searching yours for a connection. "Hey," he replied, his voice warm but cautious. In that moment, you both stood on the precipice of an unknown future, bound together by circumstance and the fragile hope that perhaps, in time, you could find your way to each other.

“I’m all ready to go, I think.”

“Awesome. I’ll get your things in the car.” He moved to gather your suitcases, his movements quick and efficient.

Nora hugged you tightly, her smile warm and genuine. “I’m happy for you, Matilda. You’ve been through a lot these past few days, and you’re doing so good.”

“Thank you for your help, Nora.” Your voice was soft, but there was a hint of gratitude in your words.

Her smile deepened as she led you from the desk to the front door. “I hope you know it comes from a good place when I say, I hope I never see you again.” The words made you laugh for the first time in three days, just a little, but it was a victory Nora cherished.

Matty muttered a few words when joining you in the car after bidding farewell to Nora. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at him.

“You allergic to dogs? I’ve got one. His name is Mayhem. Weird name for a dog, I know, but it suits him—not that he’ll be a problem or anything. He’s a good boy.” He tried to fill the silence, his voice almost nervous.

“Do you usually not talk this much?” You shrugged, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

“Only when my mom dies.” Your words were blunt, a stark reminder of the grief still fresh in your heart.

Oh, so she definitely has my humor. Matty thought to himself, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. The drive was filled with awkward silences and hesitant attempts at conversation, but beneath it all was a shared sense of loss and a fragile hope for something better.

—-------

The moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the cluttered room. You continue to scroll on your phone as you pull the worn, thin blanket back over your shoulders. A yawn crosses your features. It wasn't your plan to be up at 3 a.m., but insomnia has become a close friend since your mother passed away. It's been three weeks and four days since you moved in with Matty. He made it very clear from the beginning: if you didn’t want to live with him, that was fine. He was in full support of whatever you wanted, as long as you were safe. He was ready and willing to have the conversation with you as soon as possible. Having your mother die of cancer, meeting your father for the first time, burying your mother, adjusting to a new life you had no clue you would be living just a month ago, and so on and so forth took its toll. You started to worry that the waiting game of seeing how long this quiet could last was starting to run out.

The footsteps walking down the steps and into the kitchen pulled you out of your drowset state. It was matty, dress in blue lounge pants and shit, complete with a random flannel that you would bet he just picked up off the floor and threw on before he come downstairs,

"Good morning," he says with a yawn, his voice low but still awake, a stark comparison to your drowsiness.

"It's 3 a.m.," you reply, your voice tinged with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

"Yeah, it's the morning," he says, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. He holds out a steaming mug, the rich aroma of coffee wafting towards you. "Want some?"

"Sure," you say, accepting the mug and wrapping your hands around it, savoring the warmth that seeps into your skin.

You take a sip, the bitter taste jolting you awake. You look anywhere except his direction."You a musician?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he nods, taking a seat across from you. "You?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head. You watch him, trying to piece together the fragments of your mother’s stories with the reality in front of you.

“Do you know why my mom used to tell me I was named after my father and an ‘old friend.’"

"‘Old friend’?" he echoes, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, my middle name. Matilda came from ‘Matty’,you knew that, but where did my middle name come from?” you continue, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability.

"What's that again?" he asks, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. Also trying to not secretly swell with love as he was reminded of your similarities.

"George. Matilda George."

"George. Your middle name is George?" He looks at you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Jeez, I know it’s a guy's name but you don’t have to be a dick about it—" you snap, feeling defensive.

"No! No! It’s not that I just…" he trails off, shaking his head. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and walks towards you. "This is George." He shows you a photo, and judging by the state of Matty’s facial hair, it’s a semi recent one. The pair are on what looks like a stage, together. Drum sticks in George’s hand, and a Guitar in your father’s.

"You know him?" you ask, your confusion deepening.

He smirked. "We’ve been best friends since we were 13. Him and your mother were friends since practically birth. He introduced us to each other." He pauses, seeing the confusion etched on your face. "She never mentioned him?"

"She never mentioned you, so," you retort, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you.

You stare into your coffee, the steam rising and swirling in the dim light. You decide to speak up, trying to change the mood hanging in the air. "She also said my father traveled the world a lot, loved his friends, and loved me, but couldn’t take care of me," you say softly, repeating the words your mother had told you countless times. "You travel a lot?"

"Something like that," he replies, his eyes distant as if he's seeing a different time and place.

—-------

Matty didn’t like leaving you for too long, so he kept to working from home as much as possible.​​ Today, he said he needed to help George with something and then he would be back with dinner from your favorite restaurant. He’s done this a few times before and each time, again and again, the urge to play the stunning grand piano situated in the corner of his office grew more. 

You kept away from it. There were even spots or rooms in the house that you kept away from. Even though you and Matty were so much more comfortable, it still felt like there were boundaries, unspoken lines you weren’t sure you could cross. His office was one of those places, a domain you didn’t feel entirely comfortable invading. The grand piano, with its polished ebony surface and ivory keys, seemed like an artifact from another world, a world that you weren’t quite a part of yet.

Today, though, was different. The house was unusually quiet, the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway amplifying the stillness. You wandered through the rooms, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors. You paused by the door to Matty’s office, your hand resting on the doorknob. You glanced around, as if expecting someone to stop you, but the house remained silent.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the room. The grand piano sat in the corner, almost beckoning you. You walked over to it, your fingers grazing the smooth surface. You hesitated for a moment, then gently lifted the lid.

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the bench. The familiar scent of polished wood filled your senses, bringing back memories of when you used to play. Your fingers hovered above the keys, and then, almost instinctively, they began to move. The first notes were tentative, but as you continued, they grew more confident, filling the room with music.

You closed your eyes, letting the music take over. The melody was a blend of old memories and new emotions, a testament to the changes in your life. The piano seemed to respond to your touch, the sound resonating deep within you. You lost track of time, immersed in the music, the outside world fading away.

You didn’t notice the front door opening or the soft footsteps approaching the office. Matty stood in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He had come home earlier than expected, and the sight of you playing the piano was both unexpected and heartwarming. He leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt this rare moment.

Once the last notes sounded, he spoke, startling you as you took your hands off the keys. “Sounds beautiful,” he said softly.

You jumped slightly, your fingers slipping off the keys. You turned to see him standing there, a gentle smile on his face.

“When did you get home?” you asked, a bit flustered.

“Just now,” he replied casually, stepping into the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

“Long enough to realize you lied to me,” he said, his smile turning into a teasing grin.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“You’re a musician! You play piano.”

You paused, thinking, then continued. “Well, you lied to me too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“You never mentioned you were in a band. A really famous one!”

His expression changed. “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “Well, what do you say when you're meeting your 12-year-old daughter for the first time? I don’t know, but I do know it’s definitely not ‘Nice to meet you, I’m famous,’ I’ll tell you that.” You couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “How’d you find out?” He asked.

You adjusted your posture and spoke. “I finally told my friends, and we did an internet deep dive in English class.”

He chuckled. “And I wonder why that’s the only class with a B.” He said, leaving the room as he did so.

You followed behind him, the both of you now making your way to the kitchen. “Is that why she said you traveled a lot? Because you were on those tours?” you asked, the pieces starting to fit together.

“I can only guess,” he replied, shrugging. You sat on one of the bar stools, across from where he was unpacking the groceries and starting to prepare dinner.

“Have you ever met Beyoncé?” you asked, your eyes wide with excitement.

“Only in passing,” he said nonchalantly, keeping his focus down.

You sat up in shock. “Really?!” You asked, mouth agape.

“I mean, yeah. It’s hard not to go to the Grammys and not walk past her and Jay-Z’s table.”

“You’ve been to the Grammys?” you asked, amazed.

“Yeah, we were nominated.”

You honestly couldn;t believe it. While spending that time on the internet earlier, a lot of the pieces were starting to come together. It’s just that you didn’t expect your own father - I guess I should start calling him that now - to be this huge ‘star’. “Shut up! Did you win?”

He laughed and looked you in the eyes. “Do you see a shiny gold trophy in our home? Should’ve though.” You shook your head in amazement. “How long have you been playing?” he asked, after a moment.

You became a bit quiet again, not impressed by the fact the conversation was heading this direction. “I don’t know,”

“What was it that Miss Julia said? About being open and honest with each other or something like that-”

“Ten years,” you interrupted, shooting him an unimmpressed look. He just smiled.

“Wow. How the hell did your mother get a two-year-old to stand still?” He asked.

“Well, I was an angel,” you said, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Really? What happened then?”

You rolled your eyes and let out a slightly dramatic sigh. “Those dad jokes kicked in real fast, didn’t they?”

The room seemed to grow warmer as the two of you shared this moment. The room grew quieter, but it felt different than before. It felt, comfortable. The kind of comfortable silence you only felt with your mother. Even if it wasn’t exact - even knowing you might not ever feel that exact comfortable silence ever again - this one felt nice. It felt…right.

“You know, you’re really good,” He said.

Your eyes followed back to him after his voice took you out of your own thoughts.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks after deciding to not turn the compliment into something cheeky.

“I mean it,” he continued. “You have a natural talent.”

You just hummed. And he was glad to see you smile a true smile for the first time.

The lines that once seemed so rigid began to blur. The house, with its many rooms and hidden corners, started to feel less like a maze and more like a place where you could both find and create new memories together. Life started to feel hopeful. And even if it was for just that moment, it would be nice while it lasted.

—-------

Matty paced back and forth in his living room, phone clutched tightly in his hand. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the room, but the day had already brought an unsettling sense of dread.

“She’s gone,” Matty said into the phone, his voice trembling with panic.

George’s voice crackled on the other end. “Who’s gone?”

“Matilda.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She’s left,” Matty said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I got an alert from her school that she didn’t show up today. I looked in her room, her duffle bag was gone and some clothes were off their hangers in her closet. I think she ran away.”

“What? Okay, don’t panic. Are you sure?” George’s tone was urgent but tried to stay calm.

“Yes!” Matty’s voice rose, frustration and fear mingling. “I don’t know where she could’ve gone!”

“Okay- it’s okay. Calm down. We’ll find her.” His voice was firm, trying to ground Matty’s spiraling thoughts.

Your father heard Adam’s voice from the back. “How are we supposed to know what we’re looking for? We’ve never met the kid.”

“It’s my face, with my hair but longer, on the face of a pre-teen girl,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he tried to scramble to find his keys. Just then, his phone rang. “I’m getting another call, hold on.”

He hung up George’s line and answered, hopeful it was an answer to getting you back on the other end.

“Hi, I’m calling from the London Police Department. I’m calling for a Matthew Healy?” a calm voice said.

“Yes, this is he.”

“Hello, sir. We’ve got a report for a runaway juvenile by the name of Matilda Moss-Healy,” the officer said, his tone professional and steady.

Matty’s stomach dropped, a cold fear gripping him. “Yes, that’s my daughter. Is she okay?”

The officer’s voice remained calm. “She’s safe. A concerned citizen noticed her alone. She’s here at the station.”

Relief flooded through Matty, making his knees weak. He let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, thank you so much. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up, immediately calling George back. “She’s at the police station. She’s safe.”

“Thank God,” George muttered. Not that Matty could see it but his face showing visible relief.

“Let’s go get her,” Ross said, already heading for the door, determination in his stride.

Adam leaned into the phone for Matty to hear him. “We’re with you, mate. We’ll come pick you up and then we can head there.”

—-------

There was a group of officers in uniform huddled near the front desk. Matty ran straight for them, his friends not far behind. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Hi, I'm looking for my daughter, Matilda. I got a call saying she was here,” he said, the urgency in his tone barely masking the anxiety coursing through him.

One of the sergeants, a tall man with a stern but kind face, nodded and spoke. “Right this way.” His voice was steady, a professional calm that contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside Matty.

As they walked, the sergeant began to explain. “A biker a few miles away noticed a young girl using an ATM and riding the metro alone. Thought it was suspicious for a 12-year-old.” The sergeant's words were clear, but they blurred together in Matty’s mind, his focus elsewhere. He kept nodding, mumbling a simple ‘mhm’ at intervals. His mind raced with thoughts of you—how you must be feeling, what you must be thinking. All he could do was silently hope you were okay. However, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish anyone who would even try to lay a finger on you.

He unconsciously quickened his pace, causing the officer to lengthen his strides to keep up. The hallway seemed endless, the sterile scent of the station mingling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Finally, the sergeant’s voice broke through his thoughts. “She’s right in there. Take all the time you need, or no time at all.”

Matty nodded, his throat tight, and the sergeant walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a moment. Ross, Adam, and George appeared from behind, having finally caught up with their friend. They all stood before a large glass screen, its dark tint revealing it to be a one-way mirror. You couldn’t see them, but they could see you.

“That’s your face alright,” Adam said softly, causing Matty’s lips to twitch into a short, bittersweet smile. His eyes never left the glass, never left you.

He turned around to face his friends, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Just give us a minute, yeah?” The three nodded in understanding, sharing a look of solidarity and concern, and walked back to the front reception desk.

Matty took a deep breath, steeling himself before he entered the room. His heart ached with a mixture of hope and fear. He pushed the door open slowly, his eyes landing on you immediately. You sat there, looking small and lost in the large, sterile room, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

You didn’t notice the metal door creak open. Too lost in your own anxious state of mind. “Matilda,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. As your eyes met his, he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, almost overwhelming in its intensity.

You bolted toward him, your shaky legs propelling you forward as fast as they could. The moment you collided with him, it rocked him back on impact. You clung to him, your small frame trembling as you buried your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your dirt-streaked hair.

He took in your state, his heart breaking at the sight. Your hair was matted slightly with grime, and you smelled of cigarettes and the harsh streets of London. But despite your disheveled appearance, you were safe. Not a scratch or mark on you. Relief washed over him, mingling with the overwhelming urge to protect you from ever feeling this kind of fear again.

“Tilly-” he began, his voice choking with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice muffled against his chest.

“It’s okay-” he started to say, but you cut him off again.

“I’m so, so sorry.” Your sobs intensified, your words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

“Tilly, it’s okay, just calm down-” His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

“I was just so scared.” Your voice was small, filled with a vulnerability that shattered his heart.

“It’s okay, baby. Breathe,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in a comforting rhythm.

“I won’t do it again! I swear! I just—”

“Matilda. Look at me.” His voice was firm yet gentle, his hands cupping your face as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face but your breathing began to steady under his calming influence.

“Let’s go home, yeah? We’ll talk about it later, just let me take you home.” His voice was soft, filled with a promise of safety and comfort.

You nodded again, a small, broken “okay” escaping your lips. He hugged you tightly once more, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He guided you to the front where the boys were waiting anxiously. Your head remained bowed, avoiding their concerned gazes. He gently sat you on the opposite end of the row of chairs, his touch soft and reassuring. “I’m gonna talk to my friends real quick, alright? They came with me, they wanted to help find you.” Your gaze drifted to the three men on the other side of the room. More specifically, to George, remembering the things Matty had told you about him and your mom and remembering his photo. “I also need to thank the policeman before we leave. I need you to stay here for a minute, can you do that for me?” You nodded silently. He gave you a short smile, and kissed your cheek before standing to find his friends.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, he turned to his friends. You were well prepared to space out again, but not before your eyes drifted to George one more time. His eyes met yours and gave them a smile. You smiled back.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Matty said, his voice low but filled with gratitude. “I’ll get us home, we can catch the tube or grab an Uber or something.”

Ross, ever the practical one, nodded. “No problem, mate. We’re here for you. Just glad she’s okay.”

Adam’s eyes were filled with empathy as he glanced at you, then back to Matty. “Yeah, anything you need. Don’t hesitate to call.”

George, however, wasn’t ready to leave so easily. “Matty, let us at least make sure you guys get home safe. You shouldn’t have to handle this alone.”

Matty shook his head, though he appreciated the sentiment. “I know, George, but It’s fine. I swear.”

George sighed, his concern evident. “Alright, but if you need anything, call us. Anytime.”

Matty nodded. “I will.”

With that, the three men exchanged solemn glances, their concern for Matty and you clear in their eyes. They began to walk out of the police station, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet space.

As they left, Matty turned back to you, his heart aching at the sight of your small frame hunched over, your head still hung low, anxious of what was to happen next. He walked over and sat down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

[wordsarelife]

DAY 3: WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

pairing: theo nott x gn!hufflepuff!reader

summary: theo meets your family for the first time during christmas

notes: i’m sorry but this is super short again. idk i just couldn’t think of anything lmao, even though the request was pretty cool. but i do think i included everything you asked for anon! hope you like it nonetheless!!

you weren’t sure when his nervousness had reached its peak, if it was on the train ride, or on the drive to the house, oh no, you were sure it was now, standing in front of the door, while you rang the doorbell and theo turned to look at you with tears in his eyes

“are you alright?” you asked him gently. it was even that gentleness that had made him interested in you, while he watched you care for the animals and he slowly fell in love with you.

it offended him a bit that you were now giving him the same look you had given that hurt kitten a week ago.

“do i look nervous to you?”

“ehh, just a little bit” you tried to assure but he saw right through you

“you’re lying”

“there’s always a bit of truth in a lie”

“sure” theo mumbled and before either of you could say anything else, the door got opened by a house elf.

“hello” you said and the house elf smiled

“hello” he said “your parents are waiting for you, y/n”

“thank you” you took theo’s hand and pulled him into the foyer. after you had both taken of your jackets and left your stuff, you walked into the living room.

“mum! dad!” you called smiling

“good evening, honey” your mom said hugging you

“it’s good to have you back at home” your father shook theo’s hand “you must be theo”

“yes, sir”

“you know theo” your father gently walked theo to sit on one of the two couches “i was a slytherin myself. and it just happens to be that y/n’s mother was a hufflepuff just like them. so your relationship could be destiny”

“i like to think that, yeah” theo said, while he watched you talk to your mum on the other end of the room.

“n/n!!” the voice of a child called. theo and your dad looked up in a similar manner and you smiled.

“gwen!” you called back, matching your sisters excitement and opening your arms for her to hug you. you picked her up and set her on your hip.

“do you want to meet theo?” you asked, pointing towards your boyfriend. your sister nodded smiling.

you walked across the room and sat down next to your boyfriend. your father got up to join your mother.

“theo” you introduced “this is my little sister gwen”

“hi gwen” theo laughed. normally your sister was quite shy, but suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped. she outstretched her little arms, waiting for theo to pick her from your hold. he did just that, letting her settle on his lap.

you send him an impressed smile. “how old are you, gwen?” theo asked “can you show that?” he pointed at her fingers

“i’m this old” she giggled, raising her hand and showing four fingers.

“that’s so cool!” theo gushed excited “i’m this old” he showed her a lot of fingers and she giggled, cuddling closer to the boy.

“do you want to put the star on with me?” gwen asked and pointed to your christmas tree. she was right, the star was still missing.

theo looked at you questioning if it was okay.

you nodded “go ahead” you whispered.

theo got up from the couch, picking up gwen, followed by you closely. he took the star from the table and gave it to gwen. she smiled brightly.

theo held her up, high enough so she could reach the top and put the star on it.

“great job!” you smiled, softly applauding.

“thank you” theo smiled from next to you, gwen still in his hold. “we did a good job, gwen, didn’t we?”

gwen giggled once again, leaning her head on theo’s shoulder.

“wow” your mum said to your dad “he’s great with her”

“yeah” your dad nodded. they both watched how theo smiled at your sister, before he turned to you, fixing a strand of your hair and gently kissing you on your forehead. “and with them too”

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @ahead-fullofdreams

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

[sofei-art]

HIHIHI I’m not the same anon that sent you the last ask and I wasn’t sure whether you’d prefer if I reblogged your post or sent you an ask, so please please tell me off if I’m being rude!! BDNDNSNSJ

I don’t know who Ace Viscotti is so I can’t speak for him, but I know the reason Luis’ skin looks so pale in a lot of the gameplay is because of the game lighting!!! The gameplay sections you’re playing with him the most are in dark caves where Leon’s torch or the overhead lighting is shining DIRECTLY onto him which is obviously gonna lighten any color!!!!! So whenever I’m color picking for Luis I usually go off of his character model!!

I really really really hope this doesn’t sound like me being “ERRRMM YOU SHOULD CHANGE THE WAY YOU DRAW HIM RIGHT NOW!!” Cuz I think you draw him really really pretty!!! :DD and I know backgrounds/the opacity of brushes/lighting/exporting to tumblr can REEEALLY change how the colours turn out!!! I just really like Luis and I love talking about him whenever I get the chance BXBDNSJS again PLEASE tell me off if I’m being rude at all, your art is absolutely GORGEOUS and I hope you’re having a lovely day!!!! :D

Hello❕️

feel free to reblog my post or send ask! I love to see how people react to my post, and I'll draw to answer asks.

I truly appreciate your advice💕💕picking color from his 3D model is a good idea, but in drawing(based on my experience), the base color should have lower saturation...I don't know how to explain so I'll just show you haha🙈😂

version 1 )

version 2)

🥰🥰Again, I'm sooo GLAD that you like how I draw Luis, and thx for sharing your opinion😆suggestions from you guys can help me to improve!

[lilythecattt]

“Did I remember to turn off the oven? Hope so!”

-Sprout 🍓

“Ahem- Is this thing on?… Looks like it is.

How do you introduce yourself again-

I’m Sprout the strawberry! pretty sure that was obvious… This is my Askblog, where you.. ask.. the blog. And the Toons on it

You can Ask anytoon, and even the Handlers—just be respectful of boundaries. The Toons running this Blog are Yours Truly, Cosmo, Dandy, and Glisten.

(Not Connie anymore because she took some things too far… But she is still Askable.)

Let’s get some Rules straight…:

-You can Ask whatever (just don’t get too nosey…)

-Don’t get into any NSFW, or Violent topics on this Blog. Not in asks, not in comments, not in reblogs. [*/Ooc: Cartoon Violence? Sure. But no realistic Gore.]

-Don’t bring Political things into this either [*/Ooc: This is supposed to be a goofy roleplay account, with a side of AU Lore…]

-Be nice to Cosmo.

-Bully Glisten for all I care, he hacked into my Account anyway

-Don’t stir up drama. [*/Ooc: Basic Etiquette…]

-Don’t harass anybody (except for Glisten with asks about his glass :) )

-[*/Ooc: Remember Toons will not answer Asks if they break these Rules, or are a Magic Ask they wouldn’t want to happen.]

-[*/Ooc: More Rule details below the RP Intro! Alongside Magic Anon Rules!]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello! Welcome to yet another Dandy’s World AU Roleplay Account!

*Dandy’s World, and Character’s from it, belong to BlushCrunch.

*Any OC’s, and AU Storylines, are the only things I own really…

⭐️Brief Story on this “Shelly’s World” AU!

(Aka the “Reformed!Dandy’s World AU”… Unless I think of a better name.)

This is a Universe after the events of the Ichor turning all of the Toons Twisted. Everyone has long since been recovered, and with new CEO’s and staff being hired—A New Show was started; Shelly’s World!

With the other Mains (discluding Dandy, he was not present for a while…) feeling unable to take the New Role as the Star of the Show, Shelly was chosen because of her Kindness, Honesty, Bravery, and Caring Nature!

Quick Note:

-Toons access the Blog through their Phones or Computers, so you don’t send Asks to their brains or anything…

-Asks do not take effect until a Toon or Handler answers one.

Current Status:

(Last updated: February // I edit more than I’d want to admit-)

-Asks are open!

-^Every Toon is Askable, so are OC’s and Toon Handlers!…

-^If you want to know more about OC’s or OC Handlers you can always ask Ooc or Mod about it! (Just note clearly that you are Asking the actual blog Owner!)

More stuff below! I edit on occasion…

v RULES & Extra Shelly’s World Stuff! v

(Feel free to skimp through some text, it’s a lot I know… xd)

Characters open for Asks!:

(In Lore, these Toons have direct access to Sprout’s Ask Blog, or used to!—so they are the Mod Toons of the blog… Well, ignoring Sam at least.)

(…No clue if or when Connie will get her permission back.)

-Sprout (Of course.. Unless he’s absent for whatever reason.)

-Cosmo

-Sam (Sprout’s Handler - Tries to Moderate the Blog, doesn’t always go very well)

-Dandy…

-Glisten (Wasn’t invited but whatever :D)

-Connie (Can no longer access Sprout’s Account, unless another Toon lets her…)

-! Note: You can ask other Toons outside the ones Listed! (Even Christmas Toons, outside of Christmas.. well, most of them.)

-! Note Make it clear which Toons you’re asking—if you have one in Specific you want to Ask!

! Note: You can ask me about the AU also… If you doubt the Toons will (or can) answer. :)

Ask away! Just follow the Ask Rules please!

-Sprout’s Pronouns: He/Him (*For simplicity…)

-Owner of Acc: She/Her

-You can talk about other Fiction and such on this blog! Feel free to ask the Toons which things they know about! (On my other Blog, @lilythecaattt, I note some Fandoms and such I am/was in :>)

-Other Roleplay Blogs are allowed! Or even other AU’s of the same characters!

-Magic Anons are allowed, but there is a limit to what you can do. I’ll note some examples in “Rules for Asks” below vvv

-Sometimes I add extra stuff in tags, so maybe check those on these posts… :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

!! ASK RULES !!

-No NSFW, or Realistic Gore. (Preferably avoid suggestive things…)

-^That means: DON’T BE “FrEakY” basically.

-Don’t make Diddy jokes… From the little I have heard, it is not funny.

-Please do not rant about really serious things.. If you’re just having a bad day, and need to vent a bit, that’s okay! But if you need help with Mental Health stuff, please find a number or something. (/I don’t mean to come off rude or anything….)

-Do not use slurs.

-Do not send M!A’s (Magic Asks) dumping Water on Vee or anything like that. No plucking Dandy’s petals either—You know who you are.

-Don’t spam the same Ask repeatedly… Resending it a couple times if Tumblr is bugging is fine, but it gets obvious when that isn’t the case.

-Smaller thing but like, don’t go calling Coal, Bobette or Dandy “Fat” or whatever.

YOU CAN:

-Swear in Asks; Just *preferably* do not swear at me or the Toons…

-Send characters objects, basically anything (that isn’t against the Ask Rules)… But if you were to say, give them a full on Rifle, they might get in trouble for having that…

-Roleplay as a Toon or OC! Just don’t pretend it’s specifically from the same AU. I I have some specific ideas for each of the Toons… By default. Roleplaying as an in-game Toon will likely make them assume they are a “Cousin” (Clone) of a Toon.

-^No adding to the AU Lore, or making a character bring up nonexistent larger plot-points IN THIS AU specifically—because then you’re kind of painting on another persons canvas. (Just something I felt I should note.)

-Be a little bit mean to *some* Toons. Mostly Toons that are a little mean anyway—Glisten, Vee, or Sprout—Just don’t take it too far! (You could send a goofy threat to make Sprouts family bald, for example… But going into great gory-detail on a death threat is an obvious no.)

-^You can bully them a bit, but do not harass them. So don’t go sending “I grab Cosmoc and smooch him 2 million times :333” or ANYTHING like that.

-Interrogating them with deeper questions is fine. Just pay attention to see if they’re getting too annoyed—because then they might start ignoring those Asks otherwise… (Not that I’m mad at you, but the Toons might be, and I try to stay in character with what they’d do…)

! KEEP IN MIND !

-“Unknown” is sometoon with an unknown identity, they have somehow hacked into Sprout’s Account… Sometimes they will answer Asks.

-“Unknown?” is likely a Toon that is closely-associated with the Blog already… :)

-Mod Toons, in lore, are the ones answering Asks.

…

! MAGIC ANON LIMITS !

-MAGIC ANONS Can effect up to 5 Asks. But only 2 if it’s a more drastic change.

-Giving a Character an Object can infinite: if the Object itself isn’t physically magical in some way. (Sending Cookies or Flowers can be infinite, but a Magic Wand would only last a few Asks.)

-You cannot change a Character Physically. No changing a Toons Object, or turn them into an Object.

-Don’t go stealing control of an SW!Character. You can’t just; “The Shelly from this AU kidnaps Cosmo, stabs him, and ties him to a heavy object to drop into the Ocean!”

-IF you want to have a longer-lasting effect.. you cooould try and manipulate convince a Toon to do something that will be of interest to them. Or bribe them, if you will… :)

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Tags for things :>

(Note: Handlers will be referred to by Name in Tags!)

-Dandy’s World Roleplay/Askblog/Rp Blog

Toon Tags:

-SW!Sprout Answers

-SW![Toon Name] Answers

-SW!Gang Answers [*Meaning 4 or more Toons answered a question, or were asked a question.]

Roleplay Tags:

-SW![Toon Name] Reblogs [*If anyone @‘s this blog, and mentions a Mod Toon :>]

-SW![Toon Name] Posts

-SW![Toon Name] RP [*Note that this tag may not be directly related to SW!AU lore…]

-SW!Scene [For situations that may or may not be lore related :)]

-SW!Document [Files or Papers that somehow find their way onto the Blog…]

Etc SW!Tags:

-SW!Update Post [Updates on the Blog, Magic Asks, and other SW!AU things!]

-SW!Polls [Polls for stuff :3]

-Not SW!AU Lore Related💔

-SW!AU Lore Related❤️

-Maybe SW!AU Lore Related❓

OOC Tags:

-/OOC💜

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(Note: Below is old stuff, bc I got tired editing this…)

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Etc Stuff:

-This is a Shelly’s World AU/Post Infection Recovery AU!

-I might also call it the “Reformed” or “Rebooted” AU? I’m still deciding… Also, “Rebooted” might be taken- IDK TAKE IT WITH SALT I guess.

-Shelly, Sprout (of course), Astro, Vee, Pebble and Dandy are all around… (Also Bobette, but this isn’t about her :>)

-In the present, “Shelly’s World” is the replacement Show while they rework the old “Dandy’s World” Episodes!: With Shelly Starring in it, her show is a mix of Education and Entertainment! Meaning Finn, and a few of my OC’s, help teach things depending on what the Episode is about. (I am still deciding who else Co-Stars with her)

-After the Ichor-Infection was cured, some (*few) Toons are still conflicted having Dandy back again…

-Most of the Toons have Clones, which have to wear tags with their Clone Number so they aren’t confused for Original Toons… They are not referred to as Clones in front of Visitors; they are called “Cousin’s” or “Siblings” instead. Some Clones have their own unique names and styles, others haven’t found one yet.

-This is supposed to be 13-15+ max, but for the most part, I’d wish to keep this Blog silly!

-^There *might* be existential stuff, I’m not sure…

-This is my Main Tumblr Account, my other is @lilythecaattt! for reblogging and stuff.

-I don’t really swear, so if Sprout starts using words like “Flipping” or “Freaking”, it’s because I tend to do that xP

-I’ll use a “🍓” in tags when Sprout is speaking! In text, I’ll use text “ [🍓]: “Like this.” ” When a Toon is speaking! Same goes for each Toon, in their respective colors.

-When a tag start with n emoji like “🍓”, it was put there by an SW!Toon.

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Shelly’s World Sprout:

-He’s roommates with Cosmo in this AU!

-Thanks to Boxten getting Cosmo addicted to Cookie Run Kingdom, Sprout knows the game exists. Also thanks to Boxten, he has a few Vocaloid songs on his playlists… 👀

-Sprout has long since given up on finding his world’s Cosmo on Tumblr… 😔

-^Mostly since Cosmo gave his Account to another Toon anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About Blog Owner:

-Call me either Lily, or Kit. (No one really calls me Lily, but I don’t mind either!)

-^Or you can call me Mod, Blog Owner, OOC, stuff like that…

-If there is small text inside of “()” that’s me speaking. If it’s italic, with a “ * ” at the start, it’s something other Toons don’t notice.

-Non-roleplay account: @lilythecaattt

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Sorry if it’s a bit messy, this is my first Roleplay Account…

If anyone can think of something I should add, feel free to let me know!

*Edited a lot of stuff: Jan/24/25, it was WAY too messy and had way too much information… (removed /reordered stuff)

*Edited a lot AGAIN: Feb/24/25: Dayung, only took a month to go “Omg this is dooki” and redo a bunch of things- Note I reordered stuff, and added/removed things this time…

[louisisalarrie]

Hello love. I like sending you asks because you’re always great at responding. This one is a bit sensitive. Don’t post if not appropriate.

Louis and alcohol. You’ve worked with him and seen him a little more closely than most. Is he a massive drinker (like, every day) or is his alcohol consumption a little exaggerated? I’ve seen other posts referring to him as having a problem, which seems a cruel assumption when people don’t know the guy.

It looks to me like there’s a ton of boozing on tour (lots of stories from other artists who’ve worked with him confirm they all drink a lot when they’re all together) but L never looks as though he goes on stage p*ssed. He tends to have beer on stage with him but never drinks the whole thing (I kind of feel like it’s a bit of a nervous habit, to have a drink there he can grab but not to be necessarily knocking it back show). I mean he definitely looks like he drinks a lot post show but we never hear of him turning up to meet fans drunk or smelling of booze (and there dont seem to be any major boozy stories about him doing something bad because he was drunk - oh apart from breaking his arm!) so I’m on the fence about whether or not he does have unhealthy drinking habits or not. He seems pretty controlled and put together with the occasional post show drunken/stoned selfie!

What are your thoughts?

I guess I just want a healthy Louis.

Hello anon! Apologies for the hold up on this, I wanted to do a good and thorough job at responding because it is a sensitive topic, for sure. I’m not sure how much you dabble in substances, your age, or your experiences with said substances, so what I say may feel like it’s still too much, but yeah, I hope I can provide you with some reassurance. So, lovely anon, welcome to the show!

TW for alcohol and drug use

Drinking and drug use is heavily glorified, over indulged in, and used as a crutch in the entertainment industry, but often times you only hear the worst of it. You’ve got the stories of overdoses, media analysing stars because they look drunk performing on stage, and artists having a bad/shocking image because they partake in alcohol/drugs depending on who their demographic is (zouis weed video, for example).

It’s often used as a coping mechanism, to just take a bit of the edge off. This doesn’t mean that all artists use it to an extreme extent to where they can’t perform/can’t live without it (like it’s portrayed in A Star is Born), and don’t get me wrong, some do, but from what I’ve seen and my pals and colleagues in the music industry have seen, Louis doesn’t overindulge.

I mean, they’d have a drink (or multiple) for the same reasons as we do, to just… chill out the nervous system, or carry on the energy. Dissipate some anxiety before going on stage and while on stage, calming down your body and mind from the adrenaline afterwards, partying and carrying on a bit more heavily if you’re celebrating. I’ve toured, not to the same extent as L or H, but it becomes quite normalised within people from the artist’s direct team, their direct touring crew, to the promoters, to the artist’s personal friends. It’s SO much work putting on these shows and travelling and when everything goes well, it’s a huge relief and time for a beverage or a joint. It’s just kinda… very normalised, which is also really bad, but Louis, from what I’ve seen and heard, is smart with it.

You’re correct in saying he isn’t drunk on stage, he doesn’t smell like substances (only cigarettes but that’s a whole other story), and only has 1 beer on stage.

His rider is pretty standard too. Artists over order so they don’t need runners to go get them stuff causing a delay. And then they take whatever they don’t finish to the hotel with them or whatever. If you were famous you’d wanna milk the free stuff 100%, so yeah, if that is a cause of concern for some fans seeing the leaked LATAM rider, I can assure you that it doesn’t go that far between the amount of people in his band and crew. It’s just… very normalised, but doesn’t happen every night.

Louis also just loves to dabble in the devils lettuce (im super annoyed that I have a story about this that I can’t share but he’s fucking hilarious) and loves a drink. Alcohol is also super normalised and encouraged in the UK, and here in Australia too. So I see a lot of it and it’s just kind of a thing you… do. It’s more so if you don’t drink, people are like ????? Hahaha.

So growing up in a country where it’s very normal to drink a beer or get pissed, it’s kind of engrained, and then being in an industry where it’s also normalised, it’s 100% natural to lean into it. When I drink on tour, it’s certainly less often than artists, but it’s just a social celebration thing and it’s kind of expected to a degree. In my opinion, and from what I’ve seen of him going on tour, he doesn’t have a problem nor loses any professionalism on or off the stage. He’s very serious about making these shows good and proving himself.

When I was backstage with him at one of these shows, he was in a green room that wasn’t too far from my office. He is so LOUD and hearing his giggle and talking shit was so wild hahaha. I could smell cigarettes, and heard him and his band/crew do a shot before the show, but apart from that I think maybe they had one or two beers in the late arvo together. I don’t clean/service green rooms so I can’t tell you 100% how much they drank, but it was pretty lowkey. I also don’t think he gets stoned before going on stage (I would’ve smelt it). I think it’s purely an after show fun time which also helps him sleep from jet lag/adrenaline etc. like I mentioned earlier.

He eats well, and while not as healthy as H, still filling food and has an appetite (im talking during the day, not the wild amount of munchies he orders post show), so he’s not letting alcohol/nicotine curb his appetite to that point. He did have bottle service at his hotel on a couple of those nights, too. But again, the bigger indulgence seems to be post show. He’s overall still healthy.

From what we’ve seen, it would be very easy to spot if he was going too far. He’s 100% in control and uses it as a small crutch like a lot of us do due to the intense stress of our jobs. Tbh he also just likes a drink and a joint or two and there’s no reason to worry. Hell, I like a drink or a joint or two and im good at my job, know when to stop, and uphold my professionalism to a high standard. There’s truly no reason to worry, he’s just louder about it than the other boys (I’ve heard that Niall gets on it just as much, but we don’t see it).

Now, it may seem like im making excuses for the industry or for Louis or whatever, but truly, it kinda is what it is. There has been a small but significant shift in the industry around drinking and drug use though, and how it affects mental health, which is great. In Australia, we have a resource called “Support Act” which is an organisation that now has a 24/7 wellbeing hotline for artists, industry folks, and crew, and while it has been around since 1997, it is obviously far bigger and more accessible now due to technology etc., and has great resources. The UK similarly has “Music Minds Matter”, and there are multiple around the US. So there is definitely a larger awareness on the toll touring and an industry career can take on you, and I have no doubt that Louis is aware of his limits and has supportive and wonderful people around him.

Wow okay this turned into a whole other thing. Sorry!!! Hahaha. Look, in short, he drinks nowhere near as much as other artists I’ve worked with (8 bottles of top shelf whiskey in one night thanks) and unless we see any cause for concern, im sure he’s okay, 100% in control, and just living his best life as a 32 yr old successful rockstar. Try not to worry!

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶And I say hello🎶

Hello! Tis I! 💛. Your favorite anon. Oddly enough, right before I was going to send in this request, you posted about missing me. First of all, that made my night (like, honestly, I was having a bad night and it made me smile so big). Second of all, your most recent Blurryface fic was amazing (you’re making me into a Blurryface Tyler fan slowly but surely). Also, and I know you have absolutely no reason to care, but I’m going to the Clancy tour this week! I may drown you in your related requests…just a heads up.

Anyways, my request. I am currently in a master’s program (forensic psychology master’s students for the win!) and so I was wondering if you could possibly write a one shot where Josh tries to help the reader study for a test (doesn’t have to be forensic psychology related. Could be any class. Though I’d like it to be a college class), but ends up being more so a distraction/hinderance than a help.

As always, you can change this request up and bit if you like or you don’t have to do it. It’s up to you! Like I said, I’m but a humble freeloader and you are the artist. 😊

Study - Josh Dun x reader

Relationship: Josh Dun × Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1632

A/N: Rahh I love this idea! I’ve been looking forward to going to college and am in study mode so it’s perfect! When you submitted the request I was having a bad day too so I'm glad we're able to cheer each other up :) Forensic psychology sounds cool, I have a friend who is interested in doing it but I have no idea what it’s about other than crime and psychology. I'm wanting to do a major in cinematic arts (basically film school) but I'm not sure what I want my minor to be. I'm interested in so much it's hard to choose but I'm looking at music production, classics, or journalism. Because I've been working on my media studies project at school I though I'd make the subject she's studying for related to that (I hope that's okay). ALSO I’m so excited that your Clancy Tour show is this week!! That’s so exciting 😁 I have to wait till November, my show is the first international show and I’m low key scared that they’re going to change the setlist. I’m bringing my non clique friend to the show and if they decide to add or take away songs from the setlist she’s going to think I’m having a mental breakdown (which I 100% will be lol. In a good way). Anyways, sorry for the long intro/rant thing, I don't have many friends at my school and I needed to rant 😭

The last place I expected to be with Josh was my college library, considering the fact that he didn’t go to college and never planned to. In fact, I was pretty sure the last time Josh had stepped foot in a library was all the way back in high school. I’d only found out a couple months after we’d started dating that we had gone to the same school. He had graduated two years before me so we didn’t know each other but as fate would show, we met at Guitar Centre after I’d decided to teach myself drums. Turns out teaching yourself drums is hard and you do in fact probably need a teacher, and that teacher will probably end up being that cute boy that sold you your first pair of sticks. Normally, Josh and I would hang out at home or with our friends but this week I was in full study mode with finals coming up. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet me later?” I asked, finding an empty table to sit down at. I placed my bag on the chair next to me while Josh sat down on the opposite side. He was wearing a black hoodie that he’d bought at the mall the other day and a beanie, perfect for the autumnal weather outside. It had been raining a lot recently, the light pitter patter of rain becoming a common occurrence as we fell asleep each night. 

“I’m sure,” he laughed, folding himself over the table and resting his head on his arms. 

“Okay,” I shrugged, pulling out my computer and opening it to my work. I had a couple pages of notes to read, and a practice essay to write. Yay. College. Josh pulled out his phone and started scrolling through social media, the speakers of his phone playing music–loud enough to hear but quiet enough to not bother anyone other than me. With each scroll of his finger the audio changed, progressively capturing my attention and pulling me away from my own screen. Josh clearly noticed I was getting distracted because he put his phone away and pointed to the blank notebook page in front of me. 

“What are you supposed to be learning about anyways?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and peering over my computer screen. I tilted it back so he could get a better look, the display showing two pages from my textbook for media studies. 

“Well, I’m reading this textbook section about the media and how people have different lenses that they view things. It’s kind of interesting,” I explained. Josh smiled, resting his head on his chin and listening attentively. “It’s like how you’ll view a musician character differently to how someone who doesn’t make music would.” Josh nodded as if he knew what I was talking about–he did in fact have no idea. 

“Let me help you, I’m sure it’s not that hard,” he suggested. He got up and moved around to the chair next to me, grabbing my bag and placing it on the ground so he could sit down. While I knew full well that Josh wasn’t going to be any help but I wanted nothing more than to spend time with him–he was always busy with band practice or work, making me cherish every moment we had together. He pulled my computer closer to him, reading the textbook page and taking notes with my pen. As he wrote each word on the page I could feel my body tingle with excited nerves. Josh had always been able to do that to me. If he was close, I had to fight off the butterflies to the point where I would lose focus on what I was supposed to be doing–which was exactly what was happening right now. “You get that?” 

“Huh?” I looked up at him as he let out a soft chuckle. 

“Do you understand the concept? The uh, natural bias of viewers impacts how they see the characters in movies, books, and tv,” he repeated. I listened, taking notes and bullet-pointing what he was saying. He sounded almost like he was in the class himself, which was surprising considering Josh was the least academic person I knew. 

“Mhm, yeah,” I nodded. As the lunch period ended more and more students piled into the library, filling up the tables and making the room louder. 

“It’s getting kinda hot in here,” Josh said, pulling off his hoodie to reveal one of his band’s merch shirts and his perfectly toned arms. Twenty one pilots was starting to get more and more popular with their latest music being played on college and city radio, meaning the likelihood of him being recognised was rising every day. Josh was looking around the room as more people poured in but I couldn’t look away from him. My boyfriend was hot and I couldn’t deny it–I was practically drooling and couldn’t wait for that night, when we’d be able to snuggle up in bed together. 

“What?” he questioned, snapping me out of my daydream. I could feel my face heat up slightly. 

“You’re distracting,” I smirked, causing him to laugh. 

“How am I distracting? I’m literally just sitting here,” he pointed out. I tapped my pen against his shoulder. A large smile crept onto his face along with a flush of warmth. 

“You like?” he teased, causing me to roll my eyes. 

“Yes. A lot,” I joked back. I leaned my chin against my hand and smiled widely at him. “Stop staring,” he laughed. I couldn't help it. What I really needed to be doing was studying but Josh was the most distracting boy on the planet and if we kept going the way we were, I wasn’t going to get any work done. 

“I was supposed to be studying,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes. He knew how important my finals were for my grade and he knew how much work I’d put into my courses, but somehow he couldn’t hold back his cheeky self, even when it mattered. 

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, trying to appear apologetic. He leaned back in his chair and looked at me with a sly smile. I got back to my work, taking notes and trying to figure out what I was going to write my essay on. Once again, Josh pulled out his phone, this time texting Tyler about their next gig. As he typed, he occasionally glanced at me. Without warning, he suddenly reached out and tickled my side, trying to get a reaction out of me. I laughed loudly and covered my mouth, trying to muffle the noise. 

“Josh! Stop it!” I took a deep breath between laughs. Suddenly, a group of girls approached our table, their eyes wide with excitement as they clearly recognized Josh. One of them spoke up, a blonde woman wearing a white crop top and a bright pink skirt–clearly a sorority girl, my mortal enemies. 

“Excuse me, you're Josh Dun from Twenty One Pilots, right?” Josh looked up from his phone, clearly taken aback by her boldness. He flashed the celebrity smile he’d been working on in the mirror lately and nodded. I rolled my eyes, trying to hold my focus. Josh shot me a quick smirk when he saw my reaction, clearly amused by the situation. He then turned his attention back to the girls who were bombarding him with questions. I could tell they were starstruck, which was weird considering that it was just Josh. The Josh I’d met at Guitar Centre, drum teacher Josh, wearing a blonde wig and making stupid skits Josh–my boyfriend Josh. A short brunette clutched her phone tightly, moving in closer to him. 

“Oh my god, can I please get a picture with you?” she asked, her voice quivering with excitement. I moved closer to my computer, trying to regain my focus despite there clearly being no hope. Josh chuckled lightly at the girl's request and looked over at me, noticing how irritated I was. He could tell I was trying to focus on studying for my finals and the sudden intrusion by the girls was clearly not helping. As always, he tried to be polite. 

“Sure, but can we make it quick? My girlfriend really needs to focus on her studies,” he responded, emphasizing the word ‘focus’ when he looked at me. I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. The girls nodded and Josh took a couple of photos, moving into different poses so each girl could get enough photos on each of their phones. I wondered if this was going to become more common with time, whether Josh will get recognised more often. According to Jenna, Tyler was getting it a lot but she’d found a way to cope with the fuss. She was always better than me at the celebrity girlfriend thing. 

“Thank you so much!” the blonde flashed an award-winning smile at Josh.

“Good luck on your finals,” the brunette waved goodbye. I was surprised they cared enough to even address me. 

“Thanks,” I smiled. The girls walked away whispering to each other about the interaction, clearly excited. “They were nice,” I said, turning to Josh. 

“Most people who recognise us are. The people who like our music are different, they care. But… you need to get back to studying. It’s already 5,” he responded. I looked at the clock on my computer and sure enough it was 5pm, we’d been sitting there for an hour getting incredibly distracted with each and every interaction with each other. 

“Remind me to never allow you to ‘help’ me study ever again,” I chuckled, getting back to my work. 

Josh pressed his lips to my temple and ruffled my hair.

“Noted.”

//

REQUESTS ARE OPEN HUMANS! I've gotten a lot more followers recently so feel free to request anything! Can't wait to see what ideas you guys have!

[ofmermaidstories]

hi merms, i hope you’re doing great. i’m sorry if this is different from your usual asks but i wanted to ask you, since you are literally blog goals, but how can i be more like you and enjoy my own blog? i love how you’re so free in your own space and express yourself, and you’re just full of happiness and all the bright, good things. going to your blog always makes me smile. its like you spread joy and warmth so easily. is it weird i feel more at home with your blog 😭 i wish i could enjoy my blog too, but sometimes drama makes the experience un-fun, like mean anons, or worse, your own readers constantly putting you in weird competition with your own writer friends over things you and your friends never even noticed before. i know the easy answer is to just ignore the haters and enjoy writing, and i really love writing, but its hard sometimes. i wish i could make my blog feel as homey as yours. visiting your page is like comin home to fresh hot chocolate after a long day of work 💐 thats all luv, sending you lots of love always 🌸

oh anon. i’m sorry. 🥺 i am sitting with you and we will piece this out together though, okay? 🧩 it’s hard! i’ve actually been feeling kind of dejected, lately, like with tumblr in general and my usage of it—because i haven’t been using it like i used to! so i guess that’s the first thing: to figure out what you want out of it, and then figure out what it takes to make it happen. for me i enjoy this place most when i’m treating it like a scrapbook: quotes or pictures that inspire me, asks, things i doodle. the pros of that: you fill your space with stuff you love, or that means something to you! the cons: it can be a little isolating if the stuff you love, or the things that mean something to you, aren’t like… current writing or posting trends, lmao. but it all just depends on what you value! 🥺 i’m not a fast writer, and tend to favour long-term projects, so while it sometimes makes me sad when i fall out of the loop of things, ultimately i just accept (or try to) that that’s how i work in this space. 🥹 as mama cass said, sometimes you just gotta make your own kinda music.

drama makes everything boring! and tbh i think my biggest cheat with that is that i only follow a relatively small amount of x reader blogs. 🥹 that’s not intentional; i curate a pretty strict feed based on my other interests, though, so there ends up being a lot of competition for my attention. 🥺 the pros of this is that i tend to miss most discourse that happens (lmao). the con is that i tend to miss everything else, too, though. 🥹 you basically have to choose whichever bothers you less lmfaooo. and even then—drama or meanness or plain old weirdness will still find it’s way to you. 🥺 i think that’s just the unforch reality of being on social media. especially in a niche that’s so… driven by something as personal as literally self-inserting, and dependant on the validation of others. 🥺 i’m sorry people have made you feel like you’re in competition with your friends! it sucks, because i think we as writers like… live in our own heads, lmao. we know so much about the worlds and characters we’re trying to write. but people outside of our heads don’t—think the same way! 🥺 they will draw comparisons where maybe we don’t want them to. 🥺 i think that’s a natural response, tbh; especially if they love something, and see work with like, a similar theme or tropes, but despite it being a compliment it doesn’t always feel great. 🥹 i guess the only advice (and reminder, for myself) i can offer is that you and your friends aren’t in competition—but rather thrown into the same maze together. 🥺 the only way out is to hold hands to make sure none of you get lost, and walk through. 🥹

anon!!! 🥺 i hope you find a way to make your blog feel more homely. you’re always welcome here—the door’s always open for the sunlight and the bees—but i want you to feel like the important part of the neighbourhood you are! 🥺 and safe enough that you can leave your door open, too. 🪟🎐🌾

[specialagentlokitty]

John x reader - hold your hand if you need it

Could I have number 4 of the prompt and for John and Reader? - Anon💜

4: “The one who heals others has no one to heal them.” “Then I’ll heal you.”

Humming to yourself, you chewed the tip of your pen as you walked back towards your office, and you stopped, taking a few steps backwards.

You peaked into the examination room next to your office, and you pulled the door closed and made your way to receipt.

“Can you send all of Dr Watsons appointments to me?”

“Sure of course. Is everything okay?”

You nodded at the woman and made your way to an empty examination room.

The day flew by quickly and after you had finished your last consultation you made your way back to the other room and made your way inside.

You closed the door and he shot up, running his hand down his face as he looked around confused.

“Is everything okay?” John asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He furrowed his brows a little bit and you pointed to the clock on the wall and he quickly stood up.

“I am so sorry, oh my god this is so unprofessional.”

“Relax, you’re not in trouble, come with me.”

John nodded and followed you to your office and you closed the door and the blinds and gestured to the sofa for him to sit down and he did.

You pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), honestly I didn’t sleep well last night I had no idea I’d fallen asleep it won’t happy again I mean it.”

“John. John, look at me.”

He did.

“Breathe. Calm down.”

You waited for a few moments while he took deep, calming breaths.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m not?”

You smiled softly.

“Of course not. Everybody has hard days and nights, it’s natural. Next time just call in sick, I don’t mind.”

“Right. Of course, thank you.”

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

He frowned a little and you looked at him, getting up, you sat next to him, tucking your leg under you as you faced him.

“Whatever you say in this room is confidential John. It’s my job to ensure that my employees are happy, and they’re healthy. If something is wrong I’d like to try help if I can.”

John shook his head a little bit.

“It’s.. it’s not something you can help with. I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I don’t run this practice because I’m just a pretty face John Watson.”

He cracked a smile and looked at you, and you smiled back at him.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours John? What’s troubling you to the point that you cannot sleep?”

John sighed and he sat back, tilting his bed to look up at the ceiling.

“The one who heals others has no one to heal them.” He said.

You looked at him, and you copied what he was doing, just staring up at the ceiling to your office.

“Then I’ll heal you.” You whispered.

John turned his head so he could look at you.

“Why? I don’t mean that in a rude way, but don’t you already have a lot you need to worry about?”

“I do have a lot to do, yes. But not a lot if more important than helping you ease the burden you have hovering over your head right now.”

He sighed, and turned back to look at the ceiling and he began to explain everything to you.

From issues with Sherlock, the cases he had been doing, his nightmares had come back, sometimes he just couldn’t sleep, sometimes he could but he was too scared.

He explained everything to you.

About how the world just seemed so dark right now, like he was wondering around aimlessly and he didn’t know where he was going, he couldn’t find the way out of all of this.

He just talked.

And you just listened.

And eventually he went quietly.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“Stop apologising, you have nothing to apologise for.”

You sat up, and stood up, moving the chair you turned around to face him, and smiled softly at him.

“May I suggest something to you John? Feel free to say no.”

“Go ahead.”

You held out your hand to him and smiled softly, and he looked up at you in utter confusion.

“Give me your hand and I’ll hold it. Let me be the light you need to guide you. I can’t promise you this will get easier, but I can promise you if you ever, and I mean ever feel lost, or scared, or confused, just give me your hand John, I’ll hold it, I’ll be your guide.”

John slowly reached out and took your hand, standing himself up and you laced your fingers with his.

“You may feel alone, but you’re not alone. You have Sherlock, he may not understand or not seem to care, but you have him. And you have me, I know what it’s like ti be in a dark place, and how important it is to be able to trust someone to bring you out of that dark place.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I would. I promise I’ll always take your hand if you hold it out to me. If you need a hand to hold, a hug, somewhere for a quick sleep, someone to sit with you, someone to talk to you, someone to hold you so you can sleep, I’ll do that for you. Because you deserve that and more.”

John smiled at you and he walked over, keeping his hand in yours he reached up with his other arm arm and wrapped it around your shoulder, hugging you, and you wrapped your other arm around his waist, hugging him back.

“Thank you so much. For everything, for listening to me, and for everything you said..” he whispered.

You smiled and you both just stood there for a few minutes.

“Go home, get some sleep. If you can’t sleep give me call, okay? And take tomorrow off as well.”

He nodded and you let him go.

It was only a few days later when John was having the same struggles, he was reading through some patient records and he just couldn’t focus.

He was struggling, and he tried to force himself through it but he couldn’t.

So he set the files down and pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around, leaning against the desk to try and regather his thoughts.

He watched you walk past, file in hand as you read it, and he slowly reached out his hand.

He wasn’t expecting you to stop, honestly he thought that everything you had said was just something you said then to make him feel a bit better.

But he still held on to hope that it wasn’t.

And you stopped, walking over, eyes still scanning over the file, you stood with him and swapped the hand the file was in and reached down, lacing your fingers with his.

And he looked down, a smile on his face as he looked up to see you smiling as well.

“I told you John, if you need me to hold your hand I will.”

“Thank you (Y/N).”

He wished he had someone like you in his life all the time, someone to just hold his hand when he needed it everywhere, not just at work.

He wished you could support him all the time, but aside from work you never saw each other.

John wanted you by his side, so when he needed to someone to help him ground himself, someone to help him come back down to earth, escape the hell that was his mind.

He rested his head on your shoulder, and you rested your hand on his, holding his hand a little tighter.

“Breathe…” you whispered, “you’re okay. I’ve got you John, I promise.”

[haptronym]

Hey!! This is the anon from a while back who had that convo with you about quirkless discrimination with your cannon vs fannon posts. The one who sent a way too long ask haha.

I still haven’t picked back up BNHA, just still dinking around in the earlier seasons with my writing after dropping it so long ago due to the exact reason you outlined; I stopped watching due to a certain character stagnating while saying they’re changing. Which I find amusing how prevalent that problem is in so many arcs that it’s the reason I stopped watching the show actual years ago (though not solely, it was that + a combination of other things with that arc but it really exasperated it) and you’re now talking about the same exact issue for the end of it. I don’t even feel like I can say it’s due to external pressures rather then just a weak point of the writer at this point tbh.

But, besides that, on the topic of why I initially started this ask, I just wanted to say it’s interesting to hear the story has still done squat with quirklessness, really goes to show the whole glaring divide in exactly what we where talking about so long ago. Full circle kinda?? It really is such a shame the show never went into it and kinda failed to scratch the surface of anything with how compelling it would have been and how easily it could have tied into the whole of the series’ themes.

But hey, like you said, there’s always fanfics. Just thought I’d send in an ask about it since it was fun talking to you about it last time.

Now that it’s over, I might give the show another shot, for old times sake, we’ll see!

Oh as an add on, as the fannon vs cannon anon, I do want to put a note that since I haven’t seen the thing myself I’m not making too strong opinions on it or agreeing with everything in that post, just contemplating the specific stuff I talked about in that previous anon ask as a sort of now outsider to the series.

This isn’t a “oh you’re wrong!” but making sure people know I’m not blindly following things I’ve read about a series rather then forming opinions around it from first hand cannon, HA! I’ll do that when I maybe start watching it again…one day…

-

(The post under discussion)

Hello again! Glad you're still enjoying the fandom space and haha, it's ironic that this issue is why you dropped the show. I'm also going to caveat that I'm not trying to dunk on Horikoshi or be a bitter hater. The issues I'm bringing up are par for the course for most serial writing, way harder to avoid than they seem. I really liked MHA overall and have huge respect for Horikoshi's writing, art, and ability to keep his sanity while bringing this behemoth to life.

Anyway, a response.

I mentioned a few aspects where quirklessness got brought in later in the story, but overall, yeah, it still felt kind of… vestigial. To me it felt like the author threw it out there at first thinking it was a cool idea, then later went "ugh, shit, that's not actually where I want to focus. I can't retcon it, so let's just... minimize it and move on." A lot of times when big series start, they toss out a whole bunch of possible story hooks and then narrow down to just a few that they're actually going to spend serious time on... anyone who gets hooked on a premise that doesn't end up being developed further can be left feeling disappointed.

I suspect this is exactly the reason why MHA has such a giant fandom. The show's clown-car cast means that pretty much no character really gets "deep" treatment. Instead we get 1,000 tantalizing flashes of really, really cool possibilities. We get sucked in by an awesome idea, get frustrated when the cool character/premise barely gets touched again after that, and then feverishly fill the empty space with fanfic and fanart. (I'm lucky that my favorites, Izuku and All Might, were about the most main of main characters, and even they felt somewhat shallow. I can't imagine the agony of being, say, a Momo fan.)

Unfortunately when a story does this, it also means that it's inevitably going to disappoint its fanbase. It tossed out 1,000 awesome ideas but it only has space to cultivate a small handful of those into proper plotlines… not only is it sad to see all the unused plot threads peter out, but usually the realized story ends up outright contradicting at least a few very popular fan theories and hopes. This doesn't mean the story's bad, far from it. But in these weekly-chapter stories where fans have years or decades to get attached to their interpretations and predictions, praying each week that yes, it seems like a long shot, but maybe the story will veer off into X… things quickly spiral into enormous bitterness when those decades of hope are finally snuffed out for good. (This same phenomenon makes me dread the eventual end of One Piece…)

MHA had a lot of people going "it's not like other shonen!" because it had lots of promising ideas. But it turned out that… yes, it is just another shonen. Shonen are tons of fun, and I love MHA overall. But man, it got hit hard by those high expectations.

I was a bit harsh (and incorrect) in my post, saying Izuku/All Might haven't changed at ALL, and that quirklessness meant NOTHING. It gets outright confusing when there are characterization backsies like the ones I described. Which is canon: the single panel where a character says "quirklessness is a big deal to me!" or the way that every other character behavior and plot point screams "sure doesn't seem like it"? They're both real. And this discrepancy depends on the reader's interpretation too: I'm extremely picky about characterization, while someone less anal might not see any contradiction at all. So we get All Might fans insisting that the show made quirkless issues into a huge enormous part of the plot/characters, and meanwhile I don't see it, and get annoyed and preachy because it feels like the narrative is being unfairly ascribed depth and profundity that I really wanted but never actually saw from it. How dare!

ANYWAY, I highly recommend checking out the rest of the show. I have a feeling the final arc is going to look amazing in animated form once it's finally done. The final section is a combo of delightfully over-the-top shonen insanity and surprisingly weighty outcomes. We can debate whether it really earned those outcomes, but I'm at least pleased that it tried.

[masterrainbowcat]

More recycled insults and wild assumptions—that's all you've got. Framing my needling of your girlfriend as 'harassment' when all he does is call people stupid and then refuses to engage with anyone who criticizes him (which, by the way, he does with everyone, not just me) just shows what a bunch of pussies you anime-infused gamer boys really are. And to then turn around and accuse me of 'debate rape' is fucking hilarious (what's DARVO?).

I'm not outraged—idiots say idiotic things, and there's no use getting your knickers in a twist over that. It's entertaining to me to see how you fuckers defend your lies and historical revisionism. Especially baffling is the dehumanizing language against refugees that comes straight out of the Nazi playbook from people that call themselves 'christians.'

FYI, I'm not the person behind the @evil-fact-checker account (hardly on tumblr anymore, anyway and i wouldn't be as polite), but I may have steered them toward toradora and his measly echo chamber—and it's been very gratifying to see a chatbot take their insane arguments down with facts and logic. To my knowledge, nobody has caught them making any factual mistakes—certainly not 'multiple times.'

And the @captainsquare you mentioned is just another cowardly dipshit who had a big mouth and then quickly blocked me before I could reply. I've been provoking the people around you so hard, but none of you have anything of substance to say except for ad hominem attacks on anon (full of spelling mistakes, lol).

Eat shit, fool.

A lot of what you said just reeks of projection, but I am amused by the idea of recycled insults. Like, should people be making up new insults each time they interact? Is that why you started referring to @yourtoradorasextendedwarranty as as “my gf”, even though he’s a guy? Or is that just one of your dudebro insults, despite stumping for a political ideology that tends to frown on such behavior?

I’m fairly certain you’ve referred to yourself as an alt during one of these inane exchanges with EFC and yourself, but if you don’t want to claim him, whatever. That you find his style of arguing “gratifying” doesn’t exactly dissuade anyone from thinking you lack substance. And it’s sure interesting that know so much about his engagements despite not being on Tumblr as much anymore. Not sure whether to laugh, imply you’re a liar, or take a page out of your book and imply you have a romantic relationship. Tough choice, really.

Anyway, it’s really hard to take your disinterested act seriously when you spend your supposedly lessened time on Tumblr “needling people” and practically pissing yourself in people’s replies and ask boxes. Though at the same time, it’s also hard to take your claims of hypocrisy and crying Nazi seriously when you’ve evidenced so little substance as a human being. It’s like “Oh no, the guy who gets his morality from his Reddit alerts is likening me to a Nazi, whatever shall I do?”

Either way, I always find it interesting when you send multiple asks or replies and hardly ever reblog. Don’t you want people to see your epic takedowns of “anime-infused gamer boys”? You clearly crave attention, so why would you limit your ability to get it?

As for @captainsquare, I think that’s actually the better way to engage with you. If that’s what he actually did, as I’m pretty sure you’ve also accused me of blocking you in the past. But I could be getting my numbnuts mixed up.

Anyway, cry some more.

[crystallizsch]

Hi...I'm new to the twst fandom, and i saw you help out someone else with recommendations so i was hoping you could help me tooo? 🥺 I'm worried about bothering people with asks and stuff, so i was wondering if you had any recommendations for blogs of nice/welcoming people in the fandom? 👉👈 It would be nice to make some friends...

You seem really friendly and welcoming, which is why I managed to send this...I just don't want to annoy anyone...💔💀 Thanks!!!!!!!!

AWHH HELLO HI WHAT THANK YOU SO MUCH??

i sometimes worry that i may be too overwhelming (if that’s the right word for it???) to even approach so that means so much to hear 😭💖💕

also i MAY have rambled too much,,, i ended up giving (unsolicited) advice as well im so sorry but i just wanted to say some additional things too about making friends in the fandom in general 🤧

anyways anon it’s all right under the cut 💖

AAGH FIRSTLY welcome to the twst fandom!! so glad to see you joining in!

i’ve only been in the fandom since the beginning of this year actually! and so far as my experience goes it’s been so fun!! people create amazing things and share amazing ideas with one another so i hope you enjoy your stay!

ALSO it makes me happy that you even think i’m approachable enough for recs 😭💖

i'm admittedly very biased though because a lot of the blogs i consider nice/welcoming are already mutuals/friends of mine 🤧

and i’m lowkey highkey kind of shy mentioning them again ahglsjdlsalk so i’d like to point you back to that original post here even though im assuming that you literally just came from there 😭

im so sorry i couldnt be more helpful with recs 😭💔 but all of them i do consider pretty nice blogs!!

ANYWAYS PLEASE DONT WORRY ABOUT “ANNOYING” ANYONE YOU ARE NOT A BOTHER most people love receiving asks/interactions!!

i really understand the feeling though!! it’s hard making that first move sometimes,,, and honestly (i know it sounds incredibly cliche but) you’ll never really know if you’ll click with someone here until you try!!

and i'm not sure if you post or not but! it's definitely how I've met the people i’m mutuals/friends with here!

i’ve made friends with others who regularly/every now and then reblog with nice tags or comments on my posts ;;; and i do the same on my main blog! i tend to leave a lot of tags when i reblog posts that i like

and sometimes it just,,, happens??? especially if you and the other person have a shared interest in the fandom!

anyways,,,

send people asks!! reblog with nice tags!! comment!! just let other people that you're there!! the right people for you will reciprocate 💖💖💖 (also this is in no way being against people who just prefer to silently lurk/interact btw i still appreciate you guys 🫶 this is just for if you want to interact more and make friends in the process!!)

but that's just me!!

similar to what i said on the original post i encourage you to find and interact with other people that you think you would vibe with!!

there's a lot of different corners in this fandom that are into way different things about the game than me. and the people that i vibe with might not necessarily vibe with you which is not anyone's fault!! it’s just the way it is 💖

(also i forgot to mention this in my original post --- i'm not sure if you're a minor or not so make sure if you decide to check out some blogs allow minors to interact 🙏 ) (and a lot of blogs outline their boundaries and rules on their intro posts that are pinned so keep that in mind!)

i have no idea how to end this hsjshsjs but generally just find others who like the same twst things as you and interact with them!! it’s okay to do little by little until you’re comfortable, there is never any rush 🫶

AGAIN i hope you have fun here and i wish you the best!! 💖💖💕