#i did consider just........ deleting these <3 i still might

[librarianoftheclayr]

sorry american in the notes, I didn't think you'd be stalking the replies trying to find an argument! many apologies for not engaging with you directly, I was trying to be considerate by not tagging my hate (not that I hate you! but I know when people are taking the mick out of me, I don't really want to be tagged in it).

I absolutely do not think that immigrants are only people of colour - the horrendous discrimination against Poles and other Eastern European immigrants in the UK can only come from our dogshit anti-immigration sentiment and policies. and obviously all americans aren't white, although I'm not quite sure what point you're trying to make there?

my entire set of tags was expressing frustration with american imperialism and with how americans have somewhat hilarious world views on occasion.

if you want to see where I'm coming from, can I ask you to consider a few questions first please?

1) can you think of any reason why coins pushed into a geological structure in Northern Ireland (a country within the UK that uses pounds sterling) could most commonly be in pounds sterling? do you think tourists might need to use the local currency every now and then?

2) do you think racists who want a 'pure' britain have any issues with americans coming over at all? what is it about nigel farage's 'besties with trump' demeanor that makes you think he has any issues with americans at all?

3) I know my initial reaction when seeing people take the mick out of brits is to get a bit defensive (even when it's justified!) - do you think you could possibly be accusing me of racism as a defensive reaction to being teased?

if you're a member of a country that has a cultural hegemony in the world and has also done a bunch of bad stuff, you've got to learn to let it go when people talk about the bad stuff, mate.

for example - notice how I didn't say anything when you talked about what the british did to Aotearoa? that's because it's true! the british did a bunch of bad shit in Aotearoa, and even though it was my ancestors rather than me personally, I still benefit from it today! so I don't tell you you're racist for bringing it up, and maybe you can avoid telling me I'm racist for taking the mick out of americans? and then we all win :)

if you want me to delete this I absolutely will! like I said above, I hate being teased myself and don't really want to be tagged in it. but I just wanted to explain where I was coming from and hopefully get you to reflect a little bit? if possible?

Tourists are fucking up the Giants Causeway in Ireland by wedging coins between the rocks which are then eroding and staining everything and in some cases causing the rocks to crack. For any Americans on here planning to visit Ireland: There is a mystical and ancient Irish tradition says that when you visit any of our places of natural beauty you should speak at a normal volume, leave no trace you were there and fuck off home. Tell your friends and family.

Stop ruining fucking everything.

[pamshindouu]

Yuujin is alive and here's all the reasons why I think so

This is a post I've been wanting to make for a while (and a topic I've been thinking about for a few years now) since I still see a lot of debate over whether Yuujin is really back at the end of Appmon or that whole final scene is just a dream/hallucination that Haru's having, and I just wanted to write down a list of all the reasons why I'm like, 99% sure he is in fact alive and well. I don't know if anyone else has written something similar before, but I just wanted to share my own personal thoughts.

When I first watched the show I was a little divided myself, but the more I've thought about it throughout the years and ran into other people's theories and seen certain details pointed out, the more I believe that scene was always meant to be real. So here are my main points:

1- The final scene's POV

One of the arguments I see people use when claiming the final scene is a dream is how the lighting and overall atmosphere just feel very unreal and dreamlike, and I do agree that it feels that way. It might be done on purpose to make you feel unsure of whether or not that's truly happening, or it might just be a way to make the moment feel more emotional and ideal, like the perfect happy ending. But something that I think is more important than the atmosphere is the perspective from which this scene is shown. It starts with Haru studying inside their secret base at the bookstore, which makes sense, but then it shifts to the outside of the building, where we see Yuujin's feet walking into the scene as he arrives and stops at the entrance. If this is Haru's dream, why are we seeing something he's not? I mean sure, dreams are weird and realistically he could be viewing it from an omniscient third person's POV, but from a storytelling perspective it just doesn't make much sense. It seems to imply that Yuujin truly is there and other people can see him too. Us included.

2- They have all the resources needed

There are literally SO many ways they could've brought Yuujin back, when you really think about it. I'm not sure exactly who was involved or what it was that they did, but it was likely a combined effort between the following:

Yuujin's "mother": Many people have already pointed this out, but it's very likely that the scientist posing as Yuujin's mother had a backup (probably several backups) of his memories, not to mention his next robotic body was already fully built and ready to go. They'd just have to track her down and gain access to all of those things. Which should be easy enough considering who they have on their team. Which brings me to the next point:

Rei, Hajime and Den'emon: Between Rei's hacking expertise, Hajime's Big Brain™ and Den'emon's AI knowledge and experience, I'm sure those three could easily figure out how to salvage and restore Yuujin's body and memories. It's worth noting that Yuujin developed his own consciousness outside of Leviathan's programming, so even with the deletion of all Leviathan programs, the real Yuujin should still exist somewhere. Rei might not be Yuujin's biggest fan (yet) but he'll sure do whatever it takes to make Haru happy. They all will. Everyone loves Haru.

The God Appmon: And of course let's not forget who these humans have on their side!! As far as we know the appmon should still be able to fuse and evolve as normal (even if they couldn't, I'm sure Hajime would figure out a way for them to do so), and Hadesmon and Rebootmon alone have all the power they could possibly need to bring Yuujin back. Their specific powers come incredibly handy in this situation.

3- It all builds up to that

Appmon's epilogue does this fun clever thing where it first tricks you into believing that everyone gets separated at the end, only to then gradually reveal that this is not the case, and things are actually way better than they seemed at first. And it's one of my favorite endings in the franchise because of that. First it shows you all the AppliDrivers as they're back to their normal lives, each doing their own thing, with no sign of their Buddy Appmon anywhere. And then bam, surprise! The appmon are all still here! And look, Offmon is alive and well! And so is Bootmon! And would you look at that, Haru's grandpa has been miraculously brought back to life by apprealizing his digital consciousness (another interesting thing to take into account regarding possible methods to bring Yuujin back)! Everyone is here, and they're all still hanging out together. It only makes sense that after all this they reveal that Yuujin, too, is alive and well just like everyone else. Which is exactly what they do. That's the whole point! Besides, it's been such a short time and they all look so happy, it sure doesn't look like they're still mourning the loss of their friend. There's no heaviness to it, just pure joy coming from everyone. A little suspicious if you ask me.

4- Haru's goal

When Haru is forced by Leviathan to choose between saving Yuujin or all of humanity, and he chooses the latter, he declares that he's going to become an AI researcher with the goal of bringing his friend back. And sure enough, in the epilogue we are shown that he's still focused on following that career path, but you might notice that his goal is no longer the exact same. He says he's studying AI so that they can be ready in case another entity like Leviathan shows up. He never says anything about bringing Yuujin back, even though that was supposed to be his main motivation to do this. And well... that's because he no longer has to, because Yuujin is already back. They did it. And now Haru has a new reason for wanting to become an AI researcher that makes just as much sense. I've seen people say that Yuujin being brought back so soon would make Haru's whole life resolution pointless but like, it clearly doesn't. He states this himself. Haru has a new goal that he's working towards.

And yeah, I think after taking all of those things into consideration it only makes sense for Yuujin to be alive. There is no logical reason for why he shouldn't be unless you just want to be sad on purpose (which is perfectly valid, but it's just not for me). At the end of the day I do think they kinda left that intentionally open-ended, so everyone could decide for themselves what they think is the truth. Because we're all protagonists in our own lives and we get to choose how we want the story to end... or something like that. It's definitely very fitting for Appmon.

But still, the clues are all there, everything points to that conclusion. And so I choose to believe in the perfect happy ending presented to us in that pretty dreamlike atmosphere. Because I think it's what everyone deserves. It's what Haru deserves. And just like everyone else I want Haru to be happy. That, more than anything, is my ultimate reasoning.

ALRIGHT, that's all I wanted to say ok thanks bye

[cardiomason]

Hey Guys, its Been a while. Some of you might remember me from my old posts... I used to drop animation snippets here and there, exploring heartbeat focused visuals that many of you really seemed to like. I really loved how supportive and curious so many of you were despite the fact I eventually lost interest in animating around that time.

That said, I’ve also had a few rough experiences here, which led to me deleting and reactivating my account multiple times. I just want to be honest and say: I’m back for now, but this isn’t necessarily a full or permanent return. More like a creative send-off.

I won’t be keeping DMs or inbox open this time — please don’t take that the wrong way. A lot of you were truly kind and respectful, but for my own peace of mind, I’ll be keeping direct messaging closed. I may still reply in comments though, depending on how things go.

Now for why I’m really here again:

I’ve been working quietly on a final animation project...something more ambitious and personal than anything I’ve shared before. It's called “A Place in Her Heart.”

It’s an intimate, cardiophile-inspired short film, not lewd, not explicit but sensual, symbolic, and focused on the emotional weight we carry in our bodies. It takes the phrase “a place in my heart” and explores it literally. I also tried to make it look more cinematic than normal.

This is a visual metaphor about , love, toxic relationships, emotional stagnation, and letting go. Think detailed internal heart visuals, realistic anatomy, paired with outer physical stimuli all animated together. It's supposed to blend vulnerability, intimacy, and real cardiac dynamics into a story of someone who once lived in another’s heart… until they didn’t belong there anymore.

💔 Part 1 tells the story of a man who has grown too comfortable inside a woman’s heart...literally. But her body, and her emotional self, begin to shift. Until a new, more compatible presence looms and offers her heart more stability. The old love grown complacent is unavoidably, threatened to be expelled as she begins to move on. Not with hate but with clarity. It’s a story of growth. Of moving on. Of no longer fitting where you once did.

The full short will be made available soon, likely through Patreon or a similar platform, for a limited 2–3 week viewing window. After that, it may be made public. I’ll be transparent about access and pricing in advance — but I want to set expectations now that this is a paid-access release.

Depending on how things go, I might consider opening for commissions down the line — but again, no promises yet.

Just wanted to say thanks to those who remembered me, and to those who supported my past work. This is my proper goodbye project, and I hope some of you will find something beautiful in it.

[lerclan]

orange | lando norris

type: smau + written

pairing(s): influencer!reader x lando norris

summary: you wanted to share your love for orange but it ends up with you and an f1 driver having dating rumors which slowly develops and turns out to be true at the end.

warning(s): slightly suggestive at the end

fc: random girlies off of pinterest!

---

ynnn

Liked by amayamoore, lilymhe, and 376,193 others

ynnn in love with orange atm 🧡🐚🪸

tagged: amayamoore

View all 73,618 comments

---

amayamoore LOVE YOU BABESSS 🫶

ynnn LOVE U 2 MAMI😻😻😻

user1 okay girlll we see you with f1

ynnn chat i have no idea what that is

user1 WHAT?? HOW??? ITS LITERALLY ONE OF YOUR PHOTOS AND YOUR FRIENDS W LILY MHE?? 😭😭

ynnn I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD FIT THE AESTHETIC AND AMAYA WAS THE ONE THAT INTRODUCED ME TO LILY. ALL WE EVER TALKED ABOUT WAS GOLF 😔

user1 ohhh 😭😭😭 okay girl eat it up 🙏🙏 ❤️ by author

user2 soft launch??

user3 IN LOVE W ORANGE THE COLOR OR IS THIS A CODE NAME FOR THE DRIVER?

user4 PLSSS WHAT IF ITS A SOFT LAUNCH??

user5 considering that y/n doesnt know what f1 is im not really sure abt this one

user3 what if its like a cover up or something

user4 YEAH FR WHAT IF SHES J PLAYING W US

ynnn 😈😈😈 *author deleted a comment*

user4 OH

user6 OMG NO WAY 😭😭

user3 WE SAW THAT

lilymhe okay come hangout with me when?

amayamoore in 3 days trust.

ynnn girl...where are we going...

amayamoore you wont like it but me and lily will

lilymhe OMG NO WAY?? FR??

amayamoore YESSSS

ynnn chat im lost

user7 okay shes in her wag era ❤️ by author

user7 OOP.

user8 NOT THE SOFT LAUNCH PLSSS

---

landonorris

Liked by mclaren, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 721,917 others

landonorris im orange 😭🧡

View all 112,172 comments

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carlossainz55 i told you to not do it but you still did it anyways mate

landonorris TO BE FAIR I THOUGHT IT WOULD WORK BETTER SINCE IM ALREADY TAN

carlossainz55 yeah now look at you. you look like an actual papaya. shouldve left that fake tan alone.

charles_leclerc no wonder you looked like that. 😂😂😂

mclaren someones a true dedicated papaya 👀🧡 ❤️ by author

oscarpiastri mate you look like the lorax 😭

landonorris thanks osc...really needed that

user1 LMFAOAOAO IM CRYINGGG

user3 guys aint no way...IS THIS ACTUALLY REAL?? OR LIKE AM I OVERTHINKING 😭😭🙏

user4 NO GIRL I GET IT...IT ACTUALLY MATCHES UP 😭😭😭

user6 WE ALL SAW WHAT Y/N REPLIED WITH 💀

user3 IKR LIKE HER CAPTIONING "in love with orange atm" AND NOW LANDOS CAPTION "im orange" LIKE????

user4 YOU MIGHT BE ONTO SOMETHING FR

user9 you guys are so delusional 💀 landos talking about him putting on fake tan and it made him orange 💀💀

user3 let us be delusional please 😔

user10 lando has rizz?

user11 y/n and lando lowkey have matching captions

user12 who is y/n?

user11 shes an influencer. shes friends with lily mhe 😄 heres her account @/ynnn

user12 OMG THEY FR DO LOWKEY HAVE MATCHING CAPTIONS...

---

f1wagnews

Liked by user3, user4, and 127,232 others

f1wagnews potential f1 wag in the process? or is it all just a mishap?

View all 12,232 comments

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user3 IM CALLING IT I SWEAR. ❤️ by author

user3 THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE THO... ❤️ by author

user4 FR???

user10 i agree w you guys fully.

---

---

ynnn

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 628,162 others

ynnn no cuz im being fr she actually just kidnapped me and forced me to put on the outfit 😟

tagged: amayamoore

View all 92,717 comments

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scuderiaferrari please kidnap her more. the garage enjoyed her rant about despicable me 😂❤️

redbullracing were gonna have to bribe her friend to bring her here...that sounds interesting 🧐

mclaren too late we already sent them invites.

scuderiaferrari telling our drivers to crash into you.

ynnn ladies, ladies...relax ive got enough of me to have around 😏

amayamoore get out y/n 😭😭😭

mclaren we dont like to share.

user11 ik y/n got lost about 50 times im calling it

amayamoore more than that im afraid 😔

ynnn SHUT UP.

user11 LMFAOO

user3 oh so theyre on the low low i see

user4 PLSS YOU ARE NOT GIVING UP 😭😭

user3 THEYD BE CUTE TOGETHER LET ME BE DELUSIONAL 😭😭😭

user7 NAH FR THOO

charles_leclerc soo...how long are you staying for?

carlossainz55 you did not.

charles_leclerc 😇😇😇

georgerussell63 shes WAY out of your league leclerc. anyways how long though? 😉

alex_albon lily told me to tell you guys to stay away from her. she got suspended for 3 hours from commenting bad stuff about you guys.

amayamoore lily also told me to tell you guys to get out of y/ns comment section

ynnn LMFAOO LILY NAURRRR 😭😭😭

charles_leclerc never answered our question...

ynnn a while leclerc.

maxverstappen1 did anyone else hear a yell from mclarens garage or was it just me?

mclaren 🤫🤫🤫

user12 NOT A MCLAREN DRIVER GETTING EXPOSED BY MAX 😭😭

user3 I WONDER WHICH ONE 💀

user13 PIASTRI MAYBE??

user14 NOOO IT DEF HAS TO BE LANDO

user5 watch it be an engineer

oscarpiastri it was nice talking to you, ill show you around yeah?

ynnn YES PLSSS 😊😊

landonorris wow ok

charles_leclerc i know right. FROM MY OWN SON.

ynnn ???

oscarpiastri theyre being dramatic. dont mind them 🙄

---

oscarpiastri posted on their story !

👁️ 782,173

landonorris replied to oscarpiastris story

landonorris OSCAR.

oscarpiastri LANDO.

landonorris THIS IS TRULY OPP BEHAVIOUR.

oscarpiastri what do you mean lando?

landonorris I CANT BELIEVE YOU DIDNT INVITE ME...

landonorris I LITERALLY COULDVE HAD A CONVO WITH HER OSC.

oscarpiastri lando you had 6 chances and you ran away every time...

landonorris anyways...next time..for sure....

oscarpiastri okay lando we will see...

---

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, ynnn, and 812,173 others

oscarpiastri am i the best guide ever or what? 😄

tagged: ynnn

View all 161,172 comments

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ynnn YOU ARE NOT. ❤ by author

ynnn YOU PUSHED ME TO THE BUSHES

oscarpiastri THAT WAS BY ACCIDENT. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A LIGHT SHOVE SINCE THERE WAS SOMEBODY RUNNING YOUR WAY 😔

ynnn UH HUH WTV EXCUSES EXCUSES. 😒

landonorris yeah dont listen to him he told me he did it on purpose

oscarpiastri I DID NOT 😟

ynnn WOWWWW. WOWWWWWWWWW.

user3 k chat...maybe her and lando arent dating...maybe its her and piastri...

user4 HAVE FAITH STAND YOUR GROUND 😭😭

user3 I WILL. THANK YOU 🫡

user14 yn and the mclaren drivers. never knew i needed them till now 😩

user15 NAH CUZ FR?? THE CHEM.

---

ynnn

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, amayamoore, and 826,173 others

ynnn you can tell who kidnapped me this time. (also peep oscars stance 😭)

tagged: amayamoore, oscarpiastri, landonorris

View all 127,718 comments

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user3 CHAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL 😨😨😨

user4 LMFAOO 😭😭😭

user3 LANDO IN THE LIKES??

user4 this is fr your moment girl 🙈🙈🙈

user14 OSCAR PLSSS LMFAOO ALSO LANDO AT THE LAST PHOTO 😭😭

mclaren will tell oscar to kidnap you again.

oscarpiastri already on it 🫡

scuderiaferrari we had her first :(

landonorris she looks way better in orange.

charles_leclerc nuh uh shes way better in red.

ynnn awhh guys fr theres enough of me around 🤭

amayamoore LMFAO I CANNOT W YOU 😭

oscarpiastri WHEN DID YOU TAKE THAT PHOTO

ynnn lets just say im in the shadows...

landonorris dont question her any further.

oscarpiastri what is going on 😞

landonorris I SAID DONT QUESTION HER.

ynnn thank you norris

landonorris anytime for you l/n 🫶

ynnn such a gentleman 🙈🫶

user3 GET IUT IF HERE IM GONNA PASS IUT

amayamoore they fr took my girl. 🙁

ynnn girl...YOU LEFT ME WITH THEM.

amayamoore OOPSIES. ���

lilymhe shes doing that thing again y/n

ynnn SHES DOING THE THING THING???? TO WHICH ONE!?!3$/&

lilymhe even i dont know 😟

ynnn 😨😨😨😨😨😨😨

amayamoore 😈😈😈😈

---

---

ynn

Liked by landonorris, osarpiastri, and 1,231,642 others

ynnn i like this guide way better. he doesnt push me into bushes. 🤍

tagged: landonorris

View all 233,123 comments

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landonorris id never push a pretty lady like you into bushes. ❤️

ynnn so basically what youre saying is that if i was ugly you would?

landonorris that sounds impossible coming from you l/n.

ynnn why thank you norris 😊

lilymhe BOTH OF YOU GET UP RN.

lilymhe @/ynnn PLEASE STAND ON BUSINESS Y/N DONT PLAY W ME RN.

amayamoore LET HER SIT LILY 🤭🤭🤭

mclaren whatever amaya said. ❤️ by author

user3 I AM PEEING MYSELF RN.

user3 GUYS ITS HAPPENING...ITS HAPPENING DONT PANIC

user4 THIS IS SO YOUR MOMENT OMG IM ACTUALLY SO HAPPY FOR YOU

user3 MAYBE I WONT GET SENT TO AN ASYLUM

mclaren stop stealing our drivers 🙁

ynnn ill try my best 🫡

---

landonorris

Liked by ynnn, amayamoore, lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 1,854,321 others

landonorris shes my bestfriend now.

tagged: ynnn

View all 321,283 comments

---

amayamoore NUH UH.

lilymhe lando norris bites the curb in 4k ultra hd.

landonorris ALEX. SHES DOING IT AGAIN 😟

alex_albon i cant even help you w this one...im scared of her...

lilymhe stay quiet alex.

alex_albon 🤐🤐🤐

amayamoore she maybe your best friend but shes not yours.

landonorris she said i was 🙄

ynnn ONE of my bestfriends

landonorris now were lying now huh 😒

ynnn excuse me norris. i will make sure lilys statement becomes true

landonorris im sorry my lady 😞❤️

ynnn good. ❤️

charles_leclerc guys go to your dms before i cry.

georgerussell63 fr im gonna start bawling. we lost a baddie 😔

ynnn what are you guys even talking about...

oscarpiastri dont even worry about them

carlossainz55 i agree with oscar

mclaren shocker...coming from carlos

scuderiaferrari what a moment

user4 @/user3 are you alive?

user3 i think i fr passed out when i swiped and saw her.

user12 GIRL DONT WORRY I PASSED OUT W YOU I THINK ALMOST BROKE MY NECK 😭😭

user3 i have a feeling chat. ❤️ by oscarpiastri, amayamoore, carlossainz55

user4 your feeling may come true soon.

user3 OSCAR, AMAYA, AND CARLOS J LIKED MY COMMENT SOMETHING IS BREWING.

user12 OMGOMGOMGOGMGOGMORBWHQ

user16 why is lando so fine?

user17 not lando being her personal photographer shes such a devourer for that 🙈

user18 both of them are so fine 😫😫😫

---

you were sitting on a swing on the beach waiting for lando to come back. it had been a few months since you and him started hanging out and became friends.

it wasnt surprising when you, along the way of you guys becoming close, started catching feelings for him. you were captivated by his charms, his beautiful and flirtatious personality, and those eyes that hold a million stars.

"y/n?" you hear a voice call out from behind you.

"yes, lan?" you respond back using his nickname.

"i got us some juice. they said these two were the top sellers." he hands you one as he sits down.

"oooo these look good. what flavour is this one?" you ask him waiting to take a sip.

"i think that ones called 'golden sun', it has pineapple, orange, and mango im pretty sure." he answers.

you take a sip from your juice and you were met with a wonderful taste. sweet and sour, but savory as well.

"is it good?" he asks as you eagerly nod your head.

"of course!! you can never go wrong with mango." you answer taking another sip from your juice, "whats yours called?"

"mines called 'starfish dreams', i think it has strawberry, kiwi, peach, and pineapple. not quite sure, but its good. sweet with a hint of sourness." he answers, "wanna try mine?"

"yes!! that sounds equally as good! you can try mine as well." he was ready to give you his cup and you suddenly had an idea.

you grabbed his and gave him yours and then you grabbed his arm making him give you a confused look until he realized what you were doing.

"ohhhh..." he sighs in relief, "i thought i did something wrong for a second."

you laugh out loud at the thought of him being concerned for a second.

"no, no, i just need a nice pic for the gram since you took all of the ones i was gonna post." you give him a side eye as you take out your phone for a picture.

"you snooze you lose." he sticks his tongue out at you, to which you do back.

after you snapped a couple photos, you guys go back to having a conversation about how pretty the view was at night.

"it was really nice of you to invite me here." you say to him as he looks at you.

"im glad i grew the balls to ask you to hangout with me when nobody was willing to," he chuckles, "i wouldve been alone today."

"oh so basically what youre saying is that i was the last option?" you joke around waiting for his response.

"no, no, no...not like that. more like you were the scariest option on the list." he says as you give him a look.

"how? im not that scary looking...right?" you ask him as he violently shakes his head.

"obviously not...i meant–ughhh...what i meant was you were only the scariest option on the list because i was afraid youd reject me." he spews out.

"reject you? why would you think that?" you give him a more confused look.

"because compared to me, i am definitely way out of your league," you look at him in the eyes as he looks away, "youre just too beautiful, refreshing, fun to be around, and youre just so charming. after our first lunch together, i kept thinking about you and how it was impossible to love somebody at first sight, but it was definitely possible and im the living proof of it."

"is this you confessing your love for me, norris?" you ask him as he finally looks into your eyes.

"yeah...i guess it is." he looks at your face for any sort of reaction, but all you did was look into his eyes which made him nervous.

all the nervousness he had were washed away from his body in seconds after you leaned in and gave him a kiss, to which he reciprocated.

"i feel the exact same way, lan." you give him a smile as you give him another kiss.

both of you guys spent your night at the swing looking at the stars, talking about random things that you both were interested in, and getting in the water for a little swim; soaking in each others love for one another.

---

ynnn

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, and 923,213 others

ynnn the beach at night>>>

View all 162,172 comments

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amayamoore idk how you guys can get into the water at night. it gives me the creeps...😟

ynnn its j so relaxingggg maya 🙁

amayamoore THE SHARKS.

lilymhe REAL.

landonorris beach at nights>>>

ynnn YHHH>>>

user19 who is the dude?

user3 according to my calculations, lando norris. 🤓☝️

user4 😭😭😭

user20 the view!???!? 🙈🙈

ynnn had the best view ever 🤫

landonorris i had an even better view.

charles_leclerc if you ever need another tour guide im still an option 😊

scuderiaferrari even im starting to feel bad...

carlossainz55 me and you both.

georgerussell63 me too!! im still an option! 😚

mercedesamgf1 george...

user21 IM CRYING 😭😭

user1 they are not giving up 😭

---

ynnn posted on their story !

👁️ 934,283

amayamoore replied to ynnns story

amayamoore OMG YOU FINALLY BOUGHT A CAR??

ynnn YESSSS

amayamoore so im guessing lando helped you w that huh? 😉

ynnn ....

amayamoore HAHDHAHAH GIRL CANNOT LIE TO SAVE HER LIFE 😭😭

ynnn NAW CUZ HOWD YK THO...

amayamoore girl be fr...it was either oscar or him. last time i checked you were w lando 🙄

ynnn anyways...🤐

amayamoore yeah exactly. also check the gc xoxo

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f1wagnews

Liked by user21, user3, user4, and 102,232 others

f1wagnews alert: lando norris sighted snuggling and kissing with an unknown girl!

View all 11,232 comments

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user3 oh thats not...!!

user4 I GENUINELY CANT TELL IF THATS Y/N OR NOT...

user3 ME NEITHER 😭😭

user9 it is definitely not y/n guys 💀

user5 fr everyones being so delusional

user9 that is not y/n for everyone being delusional out there 🤣

user3 IT HAS TO BE

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you and lando laugh together as you both read the comments of the new post created by f1wagnews.

"i would soft launch but it would be a little suspicious and obvious..." you say to him as he laughs.

"i told you hard launching would be the only way. considering the fact we already had a rumor around us." he tells you as you give him a look.

"i guess so. also im only hard launching to prove user9 and user5 wrong. trying to make user3s and user4s day since theyve been rooting for us." you say as he laughs, "you gotta do it with me tho, i have a plan."

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ynnn

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, mclaren, amayamoore, and 2,939,234 others

ynnn i only ride mclarens.

tagged: landonorris

View all 341,234 comments

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landonorris so funny how im actually named mclarens 😘

ynnn you are so getting it tonight.

lilymhe Y/N.

amayamoore IM CRYING WHY IS SHE SO UNHINGED LILY 😭😭😭

lilymhe BECAUS EOF YOU

mclaren we didnt even read this.

mclaren CONGRATS!! 🍾 ❤️🧡 (were just gonna ignore the caption!)

ynnn thank you sm 😝 (enjoy it)

carlossainz55 HE DID IT???

landonorris and did.

ynnn bro confessed without knowing he confessed...

landonorris SSHHHHH

oscarpiastri HE FINALLY DEFEATED THE LANDO NO-RIZZ ALLEGATIONS‼️‼️

landonorris excuse me.

ynnn YHHH HE DEFEATED IT FINALLY!!!

landonorris EXCUSE ME.

user3 I FRICKING CALLED IT. YOU GUYS I CALLED IT!!! IM NOT CRAZY.

user3 @/user4 WHERE ARE YOU...WE DID IT!!!

user4 WOOOOHOOOO FINALLLYYYYYYJAHWH

ynnn you guys are the og believers.

landonorris y/n only hard launched because of you guys fyi

user3 OMGOMGOSN IM GONNA PASS OUT.

user4 THEY KNOW WE EXIST @/user3

charles_leclerc so im guessing you dont need another tour guide 😕

ynnn sorry charles...ive already got the best tour guide around ❤️

landonorris my loveee ❤️❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 do you guys hear sobbing from ferraris garage and mercedes?

scuderiaferrari yeah...dont worry about it.

mercedesamgf1 the weather is nice today...

amayamoore that caption is insane.

lilymhe WHAT IM SAYING BRO.

ynnn 🙄🙄🙄

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landonorris

Liked by ynnn, carlossainz55, mclaren, lilymhe, amayamoore and 3,343,964 others

landonorris hi, im mclarens.

tagged: ynnn

View all 394,934 comments

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ynnn hi mclarens!!! 🙈🙈🙈

landonorris hey there beautiful lady 😍

georgerussell63 theyre so cute im gonna vomit.

mclaren beat the no-rizz and no-wins allegations!!! thats our driver!! 🧡 (still gonna ignore the caption)

landonorris it was y/ns idea believe it or not.

ynnn SHUT UP.

oscarpiastri i just put two and two together with their captions. i wanna bleach my eyes now.

carlossainz55 i just told my teammate to look at their captions and he started sobbing more. 😂😂😂

lewishamilton i dont think my teammate figured it out yet 😅

lewishamilton nvm 😭😭

maxverstappen1 yeah we can hear them all sobbing...

maxverstappen1 congrats mate!! you finally have balls now!!

landonorris last time i checked ive had balls my entire life.

maxverstappen1 idk about that mate

landonorris ask my mother or y/n

ynnn idrk lando...ive only known of their existence since last week...

charles_leclerc KEEP IT IN THE DMS. IVE GOT NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY 😭

ynnn okay ariana grande 😭😭

amayamoore KEEP THAT INFORMATION TO YOURSELVES.

lilymhe we did not wanna hear about what you two did last week.

user3 THE MATCHING CAPTIONS AGAIN 😭😭

user4 theyre so iconic for that tbh. the first time they were put in an article together it was because of their captions being accidentally matching and now its actually real. 😭

user3 genuinely brings tears to my eyes.

user22 theyre so cuteee 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc i think im done crying.

ynnn ill buy you some lec ice cream to make you feel better. 🫶

charles_leclerc thank you 🥹🫶

landonorris and what if i tell you ill eat all of it before it gets to you.

charles_leclerc that might be my 13th reason.

ynnn 😭😭

scuderiaferrari please give our driver a break.

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authors note(s): this is my first smau so i hope it isnt booty cheeks. i literally started tweaking after trying to do the instagram post layout properly 😭😭

hope you guys enjoyed this and maybe ill make more in the future xoxo

[colouredbyd]

hii,, i've always been a silent reader on your page and love your work! <3 I noticed your requests are open so id like to try (it's my first time requesting ever sorry if its wrong)

I read your fabulous piece We Heal At Last and was wondering if you'd be open to the topic of the marauders (any ship you prefer) helping a reader with dissociative disorder? I've dealt with this for a long time and it's really scary for when it happens when i'm overstimulated pr in public I mean I couldn't help but feel safe in that part where Remus is trying to bring back the reader.

Please do consider only if you're comfortable with the topic! Feel free to delete this one love you 🫶

The Names Of Real Things

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

synopsis: after a Quidditch accident leaves you spiraling into dissociation, Sirius and Remus ground you back to reality with unwavering love and gentle patience. together, you learn that even when the world slips away, love remains the one constant that is always real.

warnings: dissociation, panic attack, breakdowns, injury, fear, mention of hallucination, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts

w/c: 3.6k

a/n: i did lots of research and tried to do this justice, i am so so sorry if this is inaccurate or bad </3 also thank u for being incredibly kind dear anon, i love taking all sorts of requests :D

masterlist

The Quidditch stands thrummed with restless energy, scarlet and gold flags snapping like whips in the wind. Cheers rose and fell in waves, crashing against your senses with a force that felt almost physical.

You were seated beside Remus, perched high in the bleachers, but the noise pressed against you like a living thing—coiling around your ribs, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

Shouts, whistles, the crack of bats against Bludgers—it all swirled together into something primal and unrelenting, a roar that dug its claws deep into your skin, refusing to let go.

You rubbed your palms against your thighs, fingers pressing hard enough to sting, but the roughness of the fabric only made it worse. It scraped and scratched, every sensation sharpening instead of grounding, setting your nerves alight with sparks of discomfort.

Your breathing was uneven, skittering in your chest like something cornered, too shallow to fill your lungs properly.

You couldn’t shake the weight that had been sitting heavy in your chest since you’d woken up that morning—a thick, suffocating thing that you couldn’t name but felt in every part of you.

The noise blurred and stretched, voices distorting, folding over each other until they were nothing but echoes of echoes.

Remus must have noticed the tension in your shoulders because his hand found yours, warm and steady against your palm. His voice slipped through the haze, low and gentle. “You alright, love?”

You nodded too quickly, the motion jerky and disconnected. “Yeah. Fine.” The lie slipped from your tongue with practiced ease, smooth and effortless.

His eyes lingered on you, quiet and observant, as if he were peeling back the layers of you without ever touching them.

He squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing soft circles against your knuckles. “We don’t have to stay, you know,” he murmured, voice wrapped in that gentle warmth only he seemed to possess. "I mean it. We could leave right now. Sneak down to the lake, sit under the beech tree where it's quiet. I’ll even let you steal my scarf again."

A flicker of something close to a smile ghosted over your lips, too fragile to hold. His eyes softened, the corners crinkling just a little. "I just... I want you to be alright," he said, softer now, as if the words might shatter if spoken too loud. "You don’t have to pretend with me. Not ever."

The words hung between you, a lifeline stretched thin, and for a moment you almost reached for it. But the noise was still there, pressing in, crushing the breath out of you, and you nodded again instead, staring out over the pitch as if the sight of it would steady the ground beneath your feet.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the team shot out onto the field in a blur of crimson, and the stadium erupted.

Your gaze snapped to Sirius, hair wild and eyes alight with thrill as he circled the pitch, one hand raised to acknowledge the cheers.

He always looked so free up there, like the world couldn’t touch him, like gravity itself bent around his joy.

For a moment, the tension ebbed, your gaze tracking his movements as if they were the only solid thing in the chaos.

He looped through the air, effortless and unbound, and you found yourself breathing a little deeper, drawn into the rhythm of his flight. But it came back sharper, twisting under your ribs, a whisper of unease that wouldn’t shake loose, a tension that coiled tighter the longer you watched.

It happened too fast.

One minute, Sirius was diving for the Quaffle, his laugh audible even from your seat. The next, a Bludger came screaming from his blind side, iron gleaming like a curse cast in motion.

It slammed into his broom with a sickening crack that rippled across the stadium like a shockwave. He spun out of control, spiraling downward in a blur of red and black, limbs flung wide, momentum snatched from him in an instant.

The world went silent. The stadium roared around you, but you couldn’t hear it.

Everything dulled and pulled away, the edges of your vision fraying until all that remained was the distant figure tumbling through the sky. Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air, sharp and shrill, but it felt like it came from somewhere else, another reality.

Remus was on his feet before you even realized, his hand slipping from yours, his voice muffled and far away.

Everything slowed, colors bleeding out of the world, replaced with muted shades of grey and the hollow echo of your heartbeat.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All you could do was watch him fall.

“Stay here. I’ll go check on him,” Remus said firmly, squeezing your hand before disappearing down the stairs two at a time.

Stay here. You tried, you really did, but your heartbeat was a drumline in your ears, deafening and unsteady.

People were moving, voices overlapping, and you couldn’t see Sirius anymore. You stood, legs unsteady, forcing your way down the bleachers despite the throngs of students pressing past you.

By the time you reached the edge of the pitch, they were carrying him toward the castle, his arm slung over James’s shoulder, head lolling forward.

He was conscious, you could see his mouth moving, could hear faint protests about “just a scratch,” but you weren’t convinced.

You moved to follow, only to be met with a firm hand against your shoulder. Madam Pomfrey, stern and unyielding. “No visitors until I’ve checked him over.”

“I just need to.”

“No exceptions. He’ll be fine, but I need space to work.” Her voice was gentle but immovable.

The world started to tilt, sounds warping and stretching like you were underwater. You took a step back, the castle’s stone walls too close, the voices around you too loud, too many, too much.

You turned on your heel and walked, pushing past students who threw you odd glances.

Your footsteps were unsteady, quickening as the pressure in your chest built and built until you were practically running, feet carrying you somewhere, anywhere.

You found an empty classroom on the third floor, dusty and forgotten, and collapsed against the wall, knees pulled to your chest.

The room was dead silent, but your ears still rang with the crowd’s cheers, with the sound of Sirius’s broom cracking against the Bludger.

You blinked, and the world fractured. Your breathing came in short, uneven bursts, the edges of your vision blurring as if you were watching from somewhere far away.

Your hands shook, fingertips brushing against the cold stone floor, but it didn’t feel real.

The room was still and heavy, dust motes swirling in the thin bands of light that slipped through the cracked shutters. It smelled like old parchment and forgotten memories, thick with the silence of something left behind.

You sank to the floor, your back against the cold stone wall, knees pulled tight to your chest. The stone bit into your skin, rough and unyielding, but you barely felt it.

Your hands were trembling, fingers flexing and curling against your legs as if searching for something to hold onto. But there was nothing.

There was only the emptiness, stretching wide and hollow, echoing with whispers you couldn’t quite hear. You tried to breathe, to count each inhale like you were taught, but the air felt too thin, slipping out of your lungs before you could hold it.

Everything felt too far away. The walls stretched back, the light faded, your heartbeat slowed to a dull, distant thud. You pressed your hands harder against your knees, nails digging into the fabric of your robes, but the pressure felt muted, like you were underwater.

You blinked once, twice, and the edges of your vision wavered. The room seemed to fold in on itself, colors bleeding out until all that was left was gray.

Your hands moved in front of your face, but they didn’t feel like yours. They were pale and shaking, fingers stretching and curling, curling and stretching, and you couldn’t make them stop.

It was like falling. Slow and inevitable, like slipping backward into a place you couldn’t name. The sound of your heartbeat faded, replaced by a low hum, steady and unyielding, vibrating beneath your skin.

It was too loud and too soft all at once, pulsing against your ears until it was the only thing left.

Your name drifted through the haze, muffled and distant. You blinked, but the world remained blurred, edges smudged and colors bleeding together like spilled ink.

You couldn’t move. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe it was easier to stay here, where everything was soft and distant, where nothing could touch you.

Time slipped away. Minutes, maybe hours—you couldn’t tell. There was only the stillness, the heavy weight of nothingness pressing down on you.

Your thoughts drifted, scattered and broken, memories flashing like splinters of glass. Sirius falling from his broom. The crack of wood against Bludger. His head slumped forward, hair tangled and wild. The way his hand dangled, limp and unmoving.

But then there was the flicker of doubt, curling slow and insidious, whispering that maybe it had never happened at all. Maybe you had imagined it.

Maybe you were still in the stands, still watching the game, still breathing. Your fingers dug harder into your knees, searching for sensation, for proof that this was real.

But everything felt distant, blunted, like you were touching the world through layers of fog. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the noise to stop, willing the room to settle back into something solid.

But it didn’t. The memory twisted, faded, came back sharper. Sirius’s body dangling. Or maybe not. Maybe he had only stumbled. Maybe he had gotten back up, dusted himself off, and you had just missed it. You couldn’t know.

The image replayed, fractured and incomplete, and you were caught in its web, straining to hold on to something real. But reality slipped through your fingers like sand, scattering before you could grasp it.

Your breath hitched, and the room rippled, lines blurring and stretching. You closed your eyes, but the image burned there, seared into the darkness. You tried to push it away, but it lingered, the crack of impact echoing in your ears, too loud, too sharp.

Something wet slipped down your cheek, and you flinched, the sensation foreign and strange. Your hand reached up, slow and unsteady, brushing against your cheek. Dampness clung to your fingertips. Tears.

You stared at them, uncomprehending, watching the droplets tremble against your skin.

They didn’t feel real. None of it did.

You blinked again, the room shifting back into focus for a moment before fading away. Your chest ached, hollow and splintered, and you tried to breathe, but it came out shaky, uneven.

The walls stretched back further, distant and unreachable, and the floor felt like it was slipping away beneath you.

You were floating. No ground beneath your feet, no air in your lungs, just empty space stretching out forever.

You wondered if you would stay here, suspended in the quiet, untouched and unseen.

You wondered if it would matter.

Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms, but it was distant, a whisper of sensation that barely registered. The world around you continued to drift, colors fading to gray, shapes blurring and stretching until there was nothing left but shadows.

You tried to remember how to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come.

Reality flickered, blinking in and out like the light of a dying star. You could feel it slipping, cracking at the edges. Your breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and sharp, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Your hands clawed at the floor, fingertips scraping against stone, but it may as well have been air. You were weightless, bodiless, scattered in a thousand pieces. And you didn’t know how to come back.

But then there was something. Gentle and warm, fingertips brushing against your cheeks, pressing against the fog.

A voice, steady and soft, filtering through the haze like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Come back to me, baby. I got you. I've always got you."

You didn’t open your eyes. You couldn’t. But the touch remained, grounding and tender, and you felt yourself leaning into it, the warmth seeping back into your bones.

The sensation shifted, and suddenly you were being moved, lifted with such care it nearly broke something in you. You were settled into someone’s lap, arms strong and familiar wrapping around you.

A kiss brushed against the top of your head, soft and patient. "See? Feel that? I’m right here," Sirius murmured, his voice like a tether in the storm.

He pressed your hand to his chest, the beat of his heart steady and strong beneath your palm. "Feel my heart, darlin'. Feel that? It’s still beating for you."

His heartbeat thrummed against your fingertips, real and alive, and you clung to it like a lifeline..

The air around you was thick with the scent of him — faint smoke and leather, a grounding balm against the fog swirling in your mind.

Somewhere nearby, Remus’s voice was soft but clear, cutting through the haze like a gentle anchor.

“Feel Sirius’s heartbeat,” he said, his words deliberate, patient. “That’s real.”

The thump beneath your palm was slow and steady, a pulse that carried you, tethering you to this moment. You focused on it, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. Your breath was shallow but steadying, the cold distance inside you melting just a fraction.

The world remained blurry, the edges softened like wet charcoal smudged across a page, but beneath it, a flicker of certainty sparked.

Remus’s hands were firm but tender on your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheek. His eyes caught yours just for a second, a silent promise lingering in their depths. 

He knelt before you, close enough that you could see the fine lines around his eyes, the way his breath caught in his throat as he waited for you to return.

“Now, that sound in your head — that’s not real,” Remus whispered, voice low and steady. “That voice telling you you’re alone, broken — that’s not real, my love.”

You blinked, slow and heavy, and the fog wavered at the edges. The echoes of panic began to lose their grip, retreating like waves pulling back from the shore.

The silence wasn’t empty anymore; it held space for something else, something softer, something like hope.

Remus shifted slightly, steadying you as your fingers tightened around Sirius’s wrist. “Look at me,” he said. “I’m here. This is real.”

Your eyelids fluttered, the room tilting slightly but holding fast beneath you. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of fading light. The cold stone floor pressed through your robes, rough but unmistakably solid. 

You could smell the faint musk of earth, the sharp tang of old stone — all small but vivid details painting the world back into focus.

“Your hand on my chest,” Sirius murmured close by. “That feeling — that heartbeat — that’s real.”

You let your hand rest there, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, steady and sure. The familiar thrum beneath your palm was a thread weaving you back together.

Somewhere deep inside, a fragile thread of strength twined through the numbness, pulling you from the edge.

Remus’s voice softened again, calm and unwavering. “Those shadows whispering lies — that’s not real. They can’t hurt you.”

The room shifted subtly, colors inching back — muted golds, soft browns, the worn texture of the stone wall.

Your fingers unclenched slightly, trembling less as your body remembered how to be present. The fear lingered, but it was no longer drowning you.

Sirius’s lips brushed gently against the crown of your head, tender and unhurried. “I’m right here,” he breathed. “No harm came to me, I promise. I’m okay, baby.”

The warmth of his breath, the soft press of his lips, the steady beat beneath your palm — they were anchors in a storm that still raged inside you but no longer threatened to swallow you whole.

Remus’s gaze held yours again, steady and sure. “You’re strong. You’re here. That’s real.”

You blinked slower now, the colors sharpening, the shapes resolving. His face was close, lined with worry and hope. 

The faintest smile touched his lips. “There she is. There’s my strong girl.”

“Strongest I know,” Sirius added, voice rough with emotion.

Your chest rose and fell with a shaky breath, each inhale clearer than the last. The room no longer felt like a void but a space filled with voices, warmth, and presence.

“Your breath,” Remus said softly. “That’s real.”

You felt the air as it caught in your throat and slipped through your lips, rough and uneven but yours. The panic that had clawed inside your chest still fluttered faintly but no longer held sway.

“And those thoughts telling you it’s over, that you’re lost — those aren’t real,” Remus said, gentle but firm. “You’re not gone, love. You're right here, with your boys, yeah?”

The truth of his words sank in slowly, like the first warm light of dawn seeping over a dark horizon. You began to feel the small, grounding realities in a world that had felt so fractured.

Sirius pressed your hand onto Remus' heartbeat. “Feel this, darlin’. That’s real.”

You closed your eyes briefly, focusing on the rise and fall beneath your palm. The steady beat, the heat, the undeniable proof of life and love. It was a fragile thing but enough to hold onto.

Remus brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “The stone beneath you, the worn fabric of your robes, the sunlight — those are real.”

You felt the rough texture of stone against your back, the scratch of threadbare cloth against your skin. The sharp scent of earth and musk filled your nose.

You weren’t floating anymore. You were here, tethered by small truths.

“And that crushing weight in your chest, that voice of despair — that’s not real,” Remus said. “It’s the echo of fear, nothing more, 'kay?”

The fog began to clear further, colors deepening, shadows retreating. Your hands stopped trembling. You were not lost. Not yet.

“Your heartbeat,” Sirius said softly, “That thumping beneath your skin — that’s real.”

You moved your fingers slightly, feeling the pulse that matched the rhythm in your chest, slow and sure. It was a tether you could hold.

Remus’s eyes searched yours, steady and filled with unspoken promises. “And those lies that tell you you’re weak — those aren’t real. You're the bravest girl ever, my bravest girl.”

You let out a shaky breath, the sound small but certain. The room breathed with you, alive and present.

“Your voice,” Remus said gently, “Even if you can’t speak yet, even if the silence feels endless — that’s real.”

You tried to move your lips, a faint sound rasping out. It was weak but unmistakably yours.

“And the silence that screams in your head — that’s not real,” Remus said. “You’re not alone.”

Sirius pulled you closer, careful and steady. “Hold on to me. As tight as you need, love. I wont break. I'm yours to hold.”

You wondered if you would stay here, suspended in the quiet, untouched and unseen. You wondered if it would matter.

But then you leaned into Remus, slow and unsteady, the space between you folding like something fragile.

His arms came around you, strong and sure, holding you like you might break but wouldn’t. Sirius's hand pressed firm and steady against your back, his lips brushing the top of your head, his heartbeat drumming beneath your palm.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, voice breaking just slightly, like he’d been waiting too long to say it.

Remus’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed. “We love you, more than anything in this wide world.” he said, firm and gentle.

“I love you. I love you so much it aches. I'll keep saying it over and over until you feel it, until you're back here with me."

Yet the doubts still lingered in the back of your mind, pushing hard and trying to surface to drown you in everything that wasn’t real.

“Real or not real?” you asked, voice trembling but sure.

Remus smiled, soft and sure. “Real,” he whispered. “Nothing is ever more real than this.”

You felt it then, the weight of their presence, the solidness of their bodies pressed against yours. Real.

Real in a way nothing else was. It anchored you, brought you back from the edges of that empty, floating void.

And maybe that thing you cannot name might find you sometimes, might whisper your fears and doubts into the quiet spaces of your mind. But Sirius and Remus would always be there to name everything that was real and everything that wasn’t, to remind you of what was solid, what was unbreakable.

Sirius pressed another kiss to your temple, his hands firm and steady against you. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured. “Because you’ve got us. No matter what.”

And maybe you would still drift sometimes, maybe the haze would creep back in, but you would always find your way out of it. Because you weren’t alone. Not anymore.

And if that thing you cannot name finds you again, if it tries to call your fears to the surface, Sirius and Remus will be there. They will name everything real and not real. They will guide you back, every single time.

[midnightquips]

Something Like Salvation

Owen Taylor x Reader

Summary: You visit home reluctantly, only to find Owen Taylor has returned. But some things are different now. No longer are you the obedient girl nor is Owen Taylor the pious golden boy. In quiet corners and long drives, you chase something warm and reckless. It may not be redemption... but for Owen, you felt something like salvation.

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, religious guilt & themes, explicit sexual content, nsfw, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, semi-public sex, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, mild praise kink, foreplay

Author's Note: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT. Please note that this is set in a universe the Jem Starling DOES NOT exist. Owen is also NOT married here. Although I set this to be in a 2nd Person POV, my entire intention is to establish that Y/N is a full-grown adult.

💫 Something Like Salvation Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 3: The Flesh is Willing

You didn’t go back to the store for the next few days.

Not that it helped. The whole town felt smaller now, tighter, like it was closing in around the things you and Owen weren’t saying out loud. The walls of your childhood bedroom were too thin. The air is too heavy. And even the sky seemed like it was waiting for something to snap.

And then, the silence. Not dramatic. Not announced. Just a shift with texts tapering off until there was nothing. Not even a good morning. Not a goodnight. Just blank space where something electric used to live.

You checked your phone too often, left it on the bed beside you like it might buzz if you looked away. But he didn’t text, and neither did you.

You told yourself it was fine. Insisted that some distance would cool things down. Convinced that maybe it was better to let it fade.

But the quiet was deafening and it clawed at your ribs.

Across town, Owen stared at the same message thread in the last week. His thumb hovering over the message space, then pulling away. Repeatedly. Incessantly.

He had typed out at least five drafts and deleted every single one. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to say something, but because everything he wanted to say felt dangerous. 

He wanted to ask if your lips still ached like his did. If you still felt his hands. If you were imagining the same things he was at night, just lying in bed remembering the sound you made when you rocked against him. But he said nothing.

And your reciprocal silence felt like permission to stop trying.

Some part of you always knew it couldn’t stay in the shadows forever. You were proven right soon enough.

The first rumor came from your aunt.

“She said she saw her behind the store,” she whispered to your mother in the kitchen. “With the pastor’s boy pressed close. Didn’t look very holy, if you know what I mean.”

You were halfway down the stairs when you heard it. You froze. Just for a second.

Your mom didn’t say anything. Not right away. Then: “She’s not seventeen anymore.”

It was quiet but nevertheless, cut deep. It made you back up the stairs.

You didn’t go out the next day, or the one after that.

You considered packing and just leaving. You wanted to get in your car and drive until the signal faded and the town was nothing but a story you didn’t tell anyone.

You didn’t want to face your mother, or the stares at the store, or the weight of this feeling. You were reminded why you wanted out of here in the first place.

You sat on your bed, a half-zipped suitcase at your feet, your fingers twisting in your bedsheet.

“Do you have to leave?” your sister asked from the doorway.

You looked up. “I need my peace back.”

She only nods, understanding. The guilt of leaving her behind again weighs on you.

The silence this time felt heavier. Like both of you were holding your breath. Like you were waiting to see if the weight of it would collapse whatever this thing was between you.

But the damage had already begun.

Owen sat in the church office, hands steepled in front of his mouth. The leather chair was too stiff beneath him and the cross on the wall was watching like a witness.

The elder, Pastor Gilmore, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. The other elders sitting beside him, deliberating how to bestow judgement on him. 

“There’s concern,” Gilmore starts.

Another elder cleared his throat. “A few people have noticed you spending time with… someone. A former member.”

Owen didn’t move. “I don’t understand. And I haven’t—”

“She’s a non-believer,” Gilmore cut in. “It’s about perception. You’re a leader. You don’t get the same margin for personal mistakes.”

“There’s no mistake.”

That silence afterward was thunderous.

Gilmore’s mouth tightened. “We’re not here to shame you, Owen. But there are expectations. Boundaries.”

Another elder added, “We’d like you to take some time away from public roles. Focus inward. Pray.”

Owen nodded slowly, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Of course.”

No one said your name, but they didn’t have to.

They called it “perception.” They called it “confusion.”

Owen called it what it was: punishment for wanting something they deemed holy.

He kept his face neutral, gaze lowered. He said all the right things. Promised discretion. Boundaries. Reflection. But his hands shook under the table. His pulse didn’t slow until long after they left the room.

He stared at the cross on the wall for a long time, then he reached for his phone.

Still no message from you.

But he typed one anyway.

OWEN TAYLOR: Tell me to stay away. And I will.

It sat there. Sent. Read. No reply.

Owen stared at the screen, thumb hovering.

He typed again:

OWEN TAYLOR: Or tell me you want this too.

You didn’t reply. You wanted to. 

You almost did. You typed it out three different ways.

“I do.”

“I can’t.”

“Come get me.”

But you sent nothing.

The next morning, your mom said nothing about the rumors and neither did your sister. But the silence at breakfast was thick, eggs scraping on ceramic, the clink of cutlery sharp.

You cleared your plate and left before you could say something stupid.

Suddenly, Owen was there again.

You were walking the long loop around the trail behind the church, the one you used to take just to get out of the house, just to think. The gravel crunched beneath your sneakers, birds loud in the trees. You were wearing headphones, trying to lose yourself in something else when a shadow broke your focus.

There he was. Like a mirage. Leaning against the split-rail fence near the bend in the path. Hat on, head bowed.

He looked up when you stopped.

Neither of you said anything at first.

Then: “Was hoping to see you here.”

You pulled your earbuds out. “Were you?”

He glanced away. “I didn’t come to ambush you.”

“I know.”

A beat.

“You got my message,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I did.”

“And?”

You took a slow breath. “I don’t want to lie to you. But I also don’t know what saying yes would mean.”

His brow creased. “It means I’m in this with you. If you want me.”

You took the time to look at him, noticing details you normally wouldn’t. His eyes were tired. His jaw tense. His hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie like he didn’t trust what they’d do if he let them out.

You sigh. “I don’t want to be your downfall, Owen.”

He shook his head. “You’re not. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel honest in years.”

His words hit harder than they should have.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he added. “And not just the… the physical stuff.”

You raised a brow.

He almost smiled. “Okay. Also the physical stuff. A lot.”

That broke the tension.

You laughed, despite yourself. He finally takes a few steps closer.

“I’m not asking for forever,” he said. “I’m just asking for right now.”

You looked up at him. Your breath is caught somewhere between fear and want.

And then you closed the space.

This time, you kissed him first. It started soft. Careful. Familiar in a way that made your knees ache.

But it didn’t stay that way.

He slowly backed you up against the fence post, one hand cupping your face, the other sliding around your waist like he was grounding himself there. His lips parted against yours, tongue meeting yours.

And you melted. You made a sound — soft, needy — and that was all it took.

Owen groaned into your mouth and pressed in tighter, your hips aligned with his. His hands wandered lower, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding under your sweatshirt, fingers dragging along the bare skin at your back.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” you whispered breathlessly between kisses.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing down your jaw. “But I don’t care.”

His car was parked at the edge of the trail, windows tinted, hidden from the main road. You climbed into the back seat like you both had done it before, like your bodies were already used to folding around each other.

The door had barely shut before his hands were on you again, this time hungry and desperate..

Clothes didn’t come off all the way. Just enough. His flannel shirt shoved back. Your sweatshirt lifted. His fingers found your skin with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

You straddled him, knees digging into the upholstery, dress bunched high around your hips. His hand slipped beneath your underwear, fingers dipping through the heat of you.

“I want you.” he muttered, lips brushing your neck. “So bad.”

You gasped when he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing up against your clit.

“Owen—” you breathed, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Fuck.”

The sound of your voice saying that word made him groan. You felt him twitch under you.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he rasped, kissing your collarbone. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

You rocked into his hand. “Then don’t stop.”

Your hand found his jeans, working the zipper down, your palm brushing the length of him. He sucked in a sharp breath when you wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow, firm.

He tugged your underwear to the side and lined himself up, waiting.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice rough and frayed.

“Please,” you whispered.

He pushed into you in one slow thrust, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on your face.

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh my God.”

“You feel—God,” he choked. “You feel perfect.”

You rocked your hips, the friction unbearable in the best way. His hands grabbed your ass, guiding you, grounding you. Your name tumbled from his lips again and again.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You leaned in, kissed him hard. “Show me.”

He did. The rhythm he built was fast, along with the urgency and the sweat. You came first, clenching around him with a strangled moan, hips jerking as you buried your face in his neck.

“Come inside. I’m on the pill.” You assured him

His mouth dropped open from the assurance. He followed moments later, groaning into your mouth, hand fisting in your sweatshirt as he spilled into you.

You collapsed against him, both of you trembling, breathless, wrecked.

The car was silent but for the uneven, matching breathing.

You didn’t say anything for a long time. But when you finally looked at him, he was already looking at you.

And that said enough.

You were on borrowed time.

That’s what it felt like. Not like a vacation, but rather a stretch of days pulled taut like thread between fingers, always ready to snap.

You fell into a rhythm. A dangerous, magnetic, honey-thick rhythm that made time bend. Mornings blurred into afternoons. Afternoons faded into dark, and somewhere between phone calls and hidden meetups, you paused the thought that there was an end to any of it.

The picnic was your idea.

A sun-dappled clearing behind an abandoned barn, just outside town. Private. Quiet. You spread a blanket on the grass, unpacked sandwiches and fruit, and kicked your shoes off. Owen leaned back on one elbow, watching you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“So,” he asked between bites, “Austin. What’s it like?”

“Loud. Messy. No one cares if you believe in anything. And there’s a taco truck on every corner.”

He smiled. “Sounds like freedom in the best way.”

You told him about work. The long days as an editorial assistant, spending hours shaping other people’s voices, how sometimes your wrists ached more from typing than from thinking.

“But I want to write,” you admitted. “My own book about what it’s like to leave a place like this. About the grief that comes with freedom. About how belief doesn’t just vanish, rather it mutates.”

He nodded like he understood it in his bones. “I’d buy every copy.”

“I want a cat,” you added. “Fat, dramatic, maybe orange. Name it Judas if it claws my furniture.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “You’re doing just fine out there.”

Later, when your head was in his lap and his fingers moved gently through your hair, you asked, “What would you do? If you weren’t here?”

“I think I’d teach,” he said eventually. “Somewhere far. Quiet. I liked Peru because I didn’t feel like I had to perform. I could just… show up. Sit with people. Learn.”

“Why haven’t you left?”

He hesitated. “Because when you’ve been told your whole life that you’re a shepherd, you forget you’re allowed to wander.”

You sat up, cupping his face. 

He took your hands into his and tugged you into his lap. “Recently, you make it feel possible.”

There was a pause, something tight and vulnerable hanging in the air. Then, he adds softly, “I always had a thing for you, you know. Before you left. I would've asked your parents to marry you if you hadn’t run.”

You blinked, stunned. “You’re serious.”

He nodded, eyes flicking away. “You were already gone in your eyes. But I would've tried.”

You kissed him before you could say something that would make you both retreat.

It’s soft at first but it doesn’t take long before it’s hungrier.

His fingers dragged slowly up your thighs, coaxing your legs wider as he tugged you closer. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips brushing over warm skin. He hissed through his teeth. You felt him harden beneath you — sudden, unmistakable. He shifted and groaned.

“You always this distracting?” he muttered.

“I haven’t even started trying.”

Your thighs bracketed his lap, dress bunched around your hips, his palms sliding up your sides. You ground down against the hard line of him.

“You’re gonna kill me.” he rasped. 

You reached between you, freeing him, and lined yourself up. He just held your hips steady while you sank down onto him. The moan that left his throat was guttural.

“You feel so good,” he said, voice wrecked.

You rolled your hips slowly, savoring every inch. 

“Fuck.” He cursed low and helpless under his breath

It lit something inside you. He watched you gasp the moment he said it. Your hips moved faster, eyes pleading.

“You like that?” he asked, breath catching. “Me losing control like that?”

You nodded. “You sound free.”

That made him moan again, hips bucking up into yours.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered. “And I don’t even care if it’s wrong.”

You rode him harder while his hands gripped your thighs, fingers leaving bruises.

You came with his name on your lips. Soon he followed, trembling, buried deep inside you.

Neither of you moved for a long time.

The chapel came after. Late. Quiet. Dangerous.

You locked the door behind you and leaned against it. Heart was racing, a mischievous smile on your face.

He stood at the edge of the room, eyes burning.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered

You walked toward him anyway. He licked his lips in anticipation.

“You think I care?”

You pulled him to you, slowly backing until the back of your legs hit the table, your hands already working at the buttons of his shirt.

He immediately helped you up on the table. Stepped in between your open legs, wrapped it around his waist. The desk is cold beneath you, but his heat made you forget the location entirely.

When he entered you, there was no holiness. Only hunger. He was already too far gone.

“Owen—” you moaned when he thrust into you, full and deep and filthy against the worn wood of his desk.

You hold onto his neck as he sped up.

His head fell back. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“You keep coming back.”

His hands slid up your thighs, your hips meeting his again and again, the slap of skin echoing in a space meant for scripture.

He kissed your throat. Your jaw. His hand held you by the neck, thumb tracing your lips. You sucked on the tip of his thumb softly, making his breath hitch.

“I want to hear you come,” he said, voice low, commanding.

And you did. Loud, trembling, his name like a curse. He didn’t stop though.

“You’re so fucking hot when you say my name like that,” he groaned, pumping harder. “Say it again.”

“Owen—fuck—don’t stop—”

He came moments later, buried in you, his mouth open against your shoulder, breath ragged. You felt it all. The desperation. The hunger. The part of him that was absolutely unrepentant.

The cross on the wall watched. 

You didn’t look away.

Next night, you called him.

“I’m alone,” you said, voice soft. “Mom and my sister are at my aunt’s.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me that unless I can come over.”

“You can’t.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Because I’m thinking about you. About your mouth. About your hands.”

He could feel you smiling. The idea alone was seduction. 

He cursed under his breath and asked softly. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet.” You say breathlessly

He replies carefully, “Do you want to be good for me and get under the covers?”

You obeyed and hum

“Tell me what you’re wearing.” he continues

Soft sheets. Bare legs. A tank top with nothing underneath. You let him know just that.

His voice dropped. “Slide your hand down. Slowly.”

You did. Gasps and breathy descriptions spilled between you. Details of where your fingers were, how wet you were, what you’d do if he were there.

“I’d pin your hands down,” he said. “Kiss you until you forgot your name.”

You whimpered.

“Touch yourself the way I would. Use two fingers.”

You followed, hips rolling, heart pounding. “Owen—”

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

You came with a gasp, biting your lip to stay quiet.

And on the other end of the line, he was panting too.

“I’m so hard right now,” he murmured. “I wish it was your hand. I wish I could watch you fall apart.”

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’ve got my cock in my hand,” he groaned. “I’m imagining your mouth. The way you moan when I fuck you slow. God, you sound so pretty—”

He stroked himself harder, breath sharp and frantic now.

“You wanna know something?” he added, voice ragged. “I used to touch myself to the image of you in high school. Just the way you looked in church. I never told anyone.”

The confession wrecked you. “Owen.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

You moaned, the sound breaking as you reached your second orgasm, body shaking under the sheets.

He followed seconds later, a choked sound slipping from his throat. “Yes, baby. That’s it. That’s it.”

You both stayed quiet after, breath slowing, the line buzzing gently between you.

You lay there in the dark, hearts thudding in different houses.

And still, together. For now.

You didn’t know what came next.

But you weren’t ready to let go.

You drove out of town just after five.

No destination. Just the slow unraveling of familiar roads behind you. Owen’s hand on your knee while your playlist spilled from the open windows. The scent of his cologne mixing with the warm wind.

You wore a dress that would’ve raised brows back home. It was sleeveless, a little too short, cinched at the waist. But you didn’t care. You weren’t from that town anymore, not truly.

“God, you look…” Owen trailed off, stealing another glance. “Unreal.”

“I live like this now,” you said. “Austin taught me how to breathe.”

You glanced at him. “You know what that town does best?”

He shook his head.

“Cuts your wings. Even when you’re not flying. Even when you’re just trying to land.”

The town you stopped in was much bigger than your conservative town. Open, modern. Fairy lights strung between trees, families laughed over blowing bubbles while couples wrapped in quiet affection. 

You chose a patio restaurant with soft music, low candlelight, and a table nestled beside ivy-covered stone. Owen held your chair. You ordered a glass of wine. He watched you like he’d never seen you drink before.

“You go out like this often?” he asked, lips curled into a crooked smile.

“Live? Yeah. I try.”

He stared a moment too long. “It looks good on you.”

You sipped slowly, letting the pause stretch. “Feels good. Like I’m not apologizing for breathing. You should try it too.”

“Was it hard?” he asked. “Leaving?”

You nodded. “The leaving part, no. The staying gone? Yeah. There were nights I’d look around and wonder if I was still allowed to be happy.”

He looked down. “I do that now. Wonder if this,” he gestured between you, “can be real.”

You leaned in. “It’s real. It just doesn’t come with rules.”

For dessert, you shared a piece of cake and laughed when he stole the last bite.

When he reached for your hand, you let him.

When he pulled you close beneath a streetlamp and kissed you, you kissed him back like it was your full-time job.

You checked into a modest inn with creaky stairs and a view of nothing. But the bed was big and clean, and the walls were thick.

You dropped your purse on the floor. He shut the door with his back.

And for a second, you just stared at each other.

Then, you urge, “Come here.”

He crossed the room in two steps.

You turned around for him. Quietly gave permission to help you undress. When his fingers reach for your zipper, you let him tug it down and let the fabric slip to the floor. His gaze tracked every inch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

You kissed him then — deep, unfiltered. He groaned when your hand palmed him through his jeans.

He broke the kiss for a second to pull off his shirt, then slowly laid you on the bed. He followed, hovering over you. He kissed your collarbone, down to your chest, and when his mouth closed over one nipple, your back arched.

“Jesus,” you gasped.

His hands worshipped you. Slow squeezes, teasing pinches. You whimpered beneath him when you felt his tongue circling the tip of your nipple then gently sucking.

“You like that?” he asked, voice gravel.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

You sat up, reached between you, and wrapped your hand around him.

Owen groaned. “Fuck, baby—”

You stroked him as he slipped his fingers beneath your panties. He found your clit first, rubbing gently, slow circles before sliding one finger inside. Then another.

Your moan cracked open the room.

“Watching you touch yourself would kill me,” he murmured. “Would you let me see?”

You nod before pulling away from him and scrambling onto your back. You spread for him as he knelt between your thighs, watching your hand slide through your slick folds. 

“God,” he muttered. “You’re soaked.”

“Your fault.”

You met his eyes, continuing to rub yourself. Your hands didn't last before he leaned down and replaced your hand with his mouth. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, you cried out, hands tangling in his hair.

He licked softly, tentatively at first, making you shiver. It didn’t take long before his tongue moved fervently, coaxing your climax. You came shaking.

He immediately hovered over you after, flushed and hard.

“I need to be inside you.”

“Then don’t wait.” You assured

You guided him in slowly, gasping at the stretch, the fullness. Every inch a revelation.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You feel perfect.”

He slowly thrusted into you, both of you watching where your bodies met. His hands gripped your hips like he was trying not to come too fast. His movements controlled, savoring each movement.

You clenched around him, made him moan loudly against your mouth. Then he snapped.

He suddenly flipped you over, pulled you onto all fours, and slid back in with a grunt.

“Owen. Please.” You pleaded at the sensation

He only pulled you up, your back flush against his chest. His one hand splayed over your stomach, the other between your legs again.

“Touch me,” you whispered.

He obeyed earnestly. The hand over your stomach slid up to your breast, the other rubbed your clit.

“I want to feel you come on me again,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled back as he rubbed faster. Urging. 

You came with a broken moan, head falling back, body trembling.

Owen followed with a groan, grinding deep as he spilled inside you.

You collapsed together.

A few hours later, you woke up to his mouth on you again.

The room was dark, but you could feel the heat of his breath, the way he kissed your inner thighs before laving his tongue up and over your clit.

“Owen…”

“I just want to taste you again.”

You were too sensitive, but it didn’t matter.

He took his time, building you up, whispering how good you tasted, how much he wanted to hear you fall apart. When you pulled him up and guided him inside, he slid in slow.

You were on your sides, facing the window. His arm curled under your neck, the other between your legs.

“I’ll never get tired of feeling you come around me,” he whispered.

You took his hand and pressed it right where you needed. “Rub me. Just like that.”

His fingers moved as he thrust into you slowly.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed.

He didn’t. Not until your body clenched tight and you cried out his name.

He came with a rough gasp, arms wrapped around you.

You stayed like that. Sweaty and spent until the sky began to lighten.

You drove home before sunrise. Owen’s hand stayed on your thigh the whole way.

You didn’t speak much, but the stillness wasn’t peaceful. He tried to remember how breath-taking you looked, the air blowing the hair away from your face.

Something had shifted. 

The world outside was waiting.

And freedom was never free.

Taglist: @shantellorraine @slvt4her @anxious-alto @irlbaristaoc @re-permadrivercurse @lostwhitebunny @loonysbarn @msbyjackal @lewispullsman @wildflowernightmere @ae-aeitch @dontpulloutman @midnighttithe @sarapixieelliott08 @cloudyzip @yoong1stangerine @crashingout2point0 @alltimelowsuckedmydick @kez-bez @a1exisdelrey

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pez dispenser debris for the fic ask thing? 👀

As much as this is my “kill no darlings you will get EVERY flashback” fic, there’s overarching sociopolitical backstory explaining why Izuku and the rest of class 3A exploded in the public eye that I don’t think I’ll ever fully fit in.

It’s a combination of it being more of a meta analysis than anything and also requiring information from a perspective that I know will never appear in the fic. Like, the fic still gets the different moments that make up this analysis, but there’s no explicit connecting thread to show how they all locked together to create this sort of global cult following of class 3-A. I almost put in a little fake news article opinion piece that was meant to sort of walk the reader through why society is Like This, but I decided it was too heavy handed and deleted it.

Everything that I’m going to reference has already appeared in pez dispenser debris to some degree, and none of it will ever actually materially impact the plot. They may receive a little more detail down the line if they’re mentioned in passing in the fic, so out of an abundance of caution, I’ll stick it below the cut so people can avoid this, but I don’t personally consider any of this spoilers.

Izuku and the rest of the class are famous in pez dispenser debris in a way that’s pretty much unprecedented for students. Canonically, not even all might had a name for himself until after his graduation. Pretty much everyone from class 3A are public figures, with Izuku specifically being considered a major global figure.

In my mind, there was this perfect storm right during their second year that catapulted them into fame. The class personally has varying levels of awareness of why they got so popular, but there was this perfect cross winds of societal unrest and fear that made them household names.

There was an approximately one month span in their second year where they were just hit one after another with a major firestorms of events: The UA Sports Festival, the Sidekick Strike, and the Tartarus Prison Break/Desertion of Yokohama.

The UA Sports Festival is the one that the kids attribute this most to, because so many of the news articles that followed referenced their performance in it. But it probably gave them less mileage than what the other two events did.

What the UA Sports Festival did was showcase their skills to the world in a venue designed to show them off. The public was already on edge. All Might had retired, crime rates kept going up, and people were rapidly losing confidence in existing heroes. Class 2A made such an insane showing of skill in the second Sports Festival that it made the public rave about them for weeks after. It was extremely reassuring to Japan that they had such powerful heroes in the barrel and would soon be on the streets. But that attention probably would have died down had it not been for the Sidekick Strike and Yokohama.

The Sidekick Strike actually had nothing to do with them. But it undermined the public’s faith in heroes at just the right time.

The Sidekick Strike is just one of those things that I have no POV that would even tangentially be involved in it so we’ll get a few passing references in media clips and it’ll never be discussed in depth. Which is a shame because it’s such an interesting conflict to me.

The Sidekick Strike was heavily inspired by the 1919 Boston Police Strike. Effectively, it was the height of the labor rights movement, and police officers got together and went on strike to get the police union recognized. They had tried to negotiate and negotiations failed, and so they all walked off the job. The city descended into lawlessness, the national guard was deployed, it was a whole thing. Famously, Calvin Coolidge fired the entire police force over it on the grounds that there was no striking from public safety.

I thought it would be really interesting if there was something similar that happened with the sidekicks. The thing is that the heroics structure as it stands really incentivizes abuse towards sidekicks. We have a society where there’s a decent amount of heroes who are only in it for the fame. A not insignificant amount of money must come from marketing deals. And it’s a ranked system, so they’re all in competition with each other.

Heroes wouldn’t be incentivized to showcase their sidekicks—they’d be incentivized to take advantage of them and take credit for their work.

Like, think about the work-study experiences. Momo didn’t even officially work for the hero she studied with. She wasn’t getting paid. An adult woman used her for a shampoo ad. Who wants to bet whether Momo saw a dime from it? It’s probably very predatory because the nature of the system incentivizes predation.

I thought the underlying legal issues would be interesting and complex. Who owns a sidekick’s image—the agency or the individual? Who gets the proceeds of their brand deals? This all would be governed by their employment contracts, and sidekicks just starting out have very little leverage compared to big name heroes. And those heroes would want to keep their sidekicks names small and theirs big. The rankings are competitive, after all.

It’s a situation where I do think that like. The sidekicks would have a point in unionizing. The use of their image, appropriate compensation, and proper credit for their busts would all be like, very legitimate concerns in a normal employment context.

I see agencies like Idaten settling immediately with the union and having their sidekicks back on the street before the day is out. In my mind, idaten is considered the gold standard for sidekick jobs already, and their employees mostly did it out of solidarity with the people they worked alongside of. Like, Idaten was already doing most of the union’s demands and signed off very quickly on the remaining ones. If it was just about the Idaten sidekicks, none of them would have gone on strike, but they had a lot of colleagues who they depended on in the field who were in terrible situations. What were they gonna say, sorry, sucks to be you, I got a great gig though so condolences? These were the people keeping them alive. They went on strike because they knew Idaten would publicly settle before the day was out and set an example for the rest of the agencies. Hopefully it would help other agencies follow their lead.

But that didn’t happen. Some agencies, like Endeavor’s, fired everyone immediately. And I think a lot of agencies spent a long time picking over every line item in prolonged negotiations. It dragged out.

And that went over fucking terribly.

All Might just retired. Crime is up. And their sworn defenders are bickering over who gets what cut of the action figure line. Like I think the public would have fucking hated this in a post-All Might world. It would have seemed like the only real hero just medically and irreversibly retired and the rest of them are squabbling about whose turn it is in the spotlight.

I also think that the villains would have taken advantage of it.

The Tartarus Prison Break in pez isn’t the one that happened in canon. Here, the League of Villains attacked Tartarus and set everyone loose. In the process, they made a very clear stance: they are going to leave with All for One, and they are not going to attack any civilians. They won’t fight at all unless attacked first.

All of the horrible and sadistic villains they just let go have not made the same promise.

They chose to do this now because of the Sidekick Strike. All their heroes don’t give a fuck about protecting them, so they’re strapped for staffing. So they’re taking back their leader and going back to ground, and the heroes are free to immediately go after and contain all those bad bad villains who just escaped. And those guys are headed to the heavily populated mainland, so better be quick.

The whole world knew that was their explicit reasoning and promise. Because Himiko fucking lived tweeted the escape.

The Sidekick Strike took the hit for a lot of the blame, but I do see all the sidekicks breaking strike lines to go respond to the crisis. But response times were severely handicapped by the fact that most if not all of them were cut off from their agencies. It was just a complete systemic breakdown.

And then there became the question of what crisis do you respond to: All for One’s escape, or everyone else’s?

I mentioned in one of the little fake tumblr posts that the Tartarus Prison Break was seen as Endeavor’s greatest failure. And part of that is because he chose to sacrifice the nearby area, Yokohama, to contain All for One.

I am one of the biggest haters of Endeavor’s later arc, specifically because it required going back on the nature of the abuse he had subjected his family to that was already established in canon, but that’s a different rant. This is not canon endeavor. I hate what they did with canon endeavor.

That being said, I do think that the self doubt weighed on him once he became number one. And this was the moment of his career where it really crushed him.

All for One had escaped. So had every other villain from Tartarus. He should go after the most immediate threats. He knew this. It was basic triage.

But they would never have a better chance to stop All for One.

Prisoners in Tartarus aren’t exactly hitting all their macros and micros or training daily. They are not adherents to the Bakugou Katsuki Fitness Lifestyle. All for One was coming off spending the last few months drugged up to his eyeballs and strapped to a chair in a straitjacket with at least fifty guns pointed at him at all times. The man has not scratched his own nose in weeks. He’s weaker now than he’ll ever be again.

It was their best chance.

If he escaped, and he went back to ground, he’d have the time and space to get as strong as he wanted, and then he’d come back for real. And he’d be coming back for everything.

Stopping him the first time had cost them All Might.

And Endeavor simply was not All Might. And he still wouldn’t be All Might when the next fight came.

It really was the hardest decision of Endeavor’s life. He had to admit to himself that his own inadequacy was going to cost them countless lives. But he thought it was a hard decision he had to make. He was losing the battle for the barest chance at winning the war.

So he made the call that all heroes were to respond to All for One. They had to hit the league of villains now with their full force if they were to stand a chance. They could not afford to divide their already sparse forces. They’d respond to Yokohama when AfO was contained.

He was also the one who made the call to broadcast the warning message that we hear in the Twitter post. He thought it would give civilians their best chance. He didn’t want them to act with the expectation of the heroes being en route.

Of course, that meant that the entire city got fucking sirens going off and a message telling them that the heroes were not going to save them. Which, as you can expect, did not do a lot for public morale.

In my head, Tartarus is like, the equivalent to Gotham’s Arkham. It’s borderline an institute for the criminally insane. You don’t end up there unless you did something super fucked, are super dangerous, and have extreme violent tendencies. It’s exclusively for the most dangerous and indiscriminately violent criminals in the country.

The entire world was watching in real time while the tragedy unfolded. A lot of people were livestreaming after the emergency broadcast dropped, because they didn’t want the government to be able to handwave away how terrible their death was, or because they didn’t know what else to do, or because they just didn’t want to be alone. The full expectation was that it’d be a massacre.

But it wasn’t. Because Class 2-A responded instead.

The Class 2-A defensive efforts were discussed in one of the silly little fake tumblr posts and in the fake twitter post. In those, we find out that 1) Class 2-A, along with Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire responded to the scene; 2) the entire class rolled out of Mirio’s fucking mom van and tamaki and nejire’s cars like they were fucking clown cars; 3) the HPSC claimed it was a legitimate operation blessed and coordinated by them; and 4) a lot of people think this was a lie, in part because videos leaked of Aizawa bitching them all out in the street afterwards. We also see Izuku’s green lightning at the end of the twitter video, showing him responding to the scene just as the first villains hit the mainland.

This fight has a lot of names in the backstory that lives in my head. It’s called the Tartarus Prison Break for obvious reasons. It’s also been called in some circles the Desertion of Yokohama, because of the call Endeavor made.

But it’s also called the Battle of Yokohoma. And it’s ranked alongside the Battle of Kamino as one of the finest acts of modern day heroics. And that’s because of Class 2-A. If it hadn’t been for them showing up, it would have gone down in history as the Massacre of Yokohama.

Like. It kills me that I can’t include the full details of what happened, but there’s just too much to make in a flashback. It’s a fic in and of itself. But it really was the fight that made Class 2-A.

It was the first fight where they were really the only heroes that could be counted on. Granted, they’d had to fight for their lives alone, but this wasn’t just their lives. These were thousands of terrified civilians who all thought they were going to die.

It was the first true test of them as heroes in the world. And they actually rose to the occasion. They didn’t just fight the villains—they realized that they needed to get emergency services working throughout the city if everyone was going to make it. Momo and Tsuyu conducted a mildly hostile take over of the emergency call center so they could coordinate relief. They had fucking Tokoyami and Dark Shadow single-handedly holding the line on the hospital while Kaminari, Shoji, Jiro, and Sato all learned to drive for the Very First Time while commandeering the city’s fucking ambulances. They were fighting and containing villains, performing emergency aid, putting out literal fires, everything. It was the hardest fight of their lives.

There was a hot second where Class 2-A was The Moment. Like. The entire world was watching them during this fight, and they had no fucking idea until it was over. People lost their minds when the first footage made it out of Yokohama of a bunch of teenagers showing up and immediately throwing hands with S-Class villains.

It was global news. Think of the kind of media attention that was received by the search for the Titan, the Tham Luang Cave Rescue, the Suez Canal getting blocked by the Ever Given (rip queen you will always be famous to me), that kind of thing. Class 2-A was fighting for their fucking lives and then found out three days later while they were all still in the hospital that there was a prayer vigil going on in Portugal for them during the battle and CNN had 24 hours live coverage of the fight that had so many viewers it outnumbered the population of Finland. Like what do you even do with that information.

The world expected a massacre. They didn’t expect a bunch of footage of high schoolers kicking the shit out of superpowered murders and personally ferrying the injured to the hospitals they were also defending.

The other part about this fight that really made them permanently part of the public consciousness is that it was not lost on everyone that every single person who responded to that fight did so at the risk of their license.

All of them had provisional licenses, save Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire, all of whom went AWOL from the explicit directives ordering them to respond to the fight against All for One. The operation could not have been less authorized. They had to steal their gear and jimmy the UA fence to even get out. The explicit plan was to steal one of the UA buses and have Bakugou fucking drive them to the fight (he also did not know how to drive but he seemed the most likely of them to break literally every single motor vehicle code to get them there but still be naturally talented at it enough to not kill them) but Izuku told Mirio what bullshit they were up to and Mirio, who was with Tamaki and Nejire when the news broke, immediately decided he would be on that bullshit too and pulled up in his mom van.

In my mind, there were strict rules around provisional licenses and how they could be used, and they broke pretty much all of them to respond to Yokohama. It would have been grounds to revoke their provisionals and permanently bar them from heroics. Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire could have all lost their licenses for helping them and for going AWOL.

The HPSC fucking fell over themselves to legitimatize the entire operation. They knew they were utterly fucked if they didn’t. These kids already had murals being painted of their faces in other fucking countries. There was a little old lady in Kyoto livestreaming herself working overtime to embroider Iida’s face onto a cushion because that lovely young man saved her darling granddaughter from *checks notes* horrible and painful death directly caused by the failings of the current HPSC administration. There were multiple trending posts online agreeing to fucking riot if those kids got in trouble for this.

Every single actual hero in the immediate vicinity of this disaster had responded to fight a villain who wasn’t actually attacking anyone. And then they fucking lost. They publicly broadcast a message saying Good Luck Champs Because We’re Not Going To Save You. It was an actual PR nightmare that they had a bare chance of salvaging if they just latched onto these kids like an aggressive parasite and that is exactly what they did.

They totally knew. Actually, it was a joint operation coordinated by and between UA and and the HPSC. Why would the kids be in trouble?? They had responded because the HPSC told them to.

UA gave it a week of dead silence and then issued a short statement praising the bravery of their students in a recent HPSC approved mission, and then they never said another word about it. They didn’t have any choice but to go along with the HPSC’s story. If they contradicted them, all of class 2-a would find their licenses pulled by the end of the day, and lord knows they wouldn’t wait for the court of public opinion to work its magic and would just all go out and become fucking vigilantes, because why not. Aizawa has aged 100 years since he got this class. Every single day he thinks of how it was a 50/50 shot between him and Vlad.

No one in the class is fully aware of just how famous they were in the immediate aftermath, because the school bent over backwards to try and shield them from it as much as possible. Like, they have an idea, but none of them saw the full explosion firsthand because of just how hard the school worked to keep it from them. Aizawa confiscated the internet router and told them it was punishment for whatever the fuck they did to the buses (thank god Mirio was just as crazy as them because they were NOT GOOD at hotwiring cars) but really it was to try and insulate them from it a little bit. Like. Japan’s Imperial Family wanted to do an official visit. The White House offered to host them. They received interview requests from every major talk show on the planet. Buzzfeed wanted to do a puppy interview with them.

Right now, Aizawa’s terrified for Midoriya’s graduation, but in the aftermath of that, he was breathing into a paper bag about all of them. Society had sort of latched onto them like they were the last life raft on the titanic. All for One was back, and All Might wasn’t, and the heroes had publicly broadcast a message saying they were useless, but don’t fucking worry, fifteen year old Iida Tenya is on the case. Society will be upheld by Kaminari Denki, currently viral for driving a real life city ambulance one hundred miles per hour down the street while screaming “WEE WOO BITCH.” And don’t forget the pillar that will be Mina Ashido, who rushed over to him earlier that day to show him her extra sparkly pink nails. And if you have a major fight that needs to be won? Don’t fucking worry, just send out bone-breaking boy wonder Midoriya Izuku and his equally reckless brother Toogata Mirio, because their dumbasses managed to take down an S-Class villain team that only All Might could defeat the first time around. Don’t worry about the multi week hospitalization they needed after, because that’s an acceptable burden to put on children.

When Aizawa started this job, he promised himself he would never send a student out to die. Some of them would die. But it would be tragedy, not damnation. He’d have given them their best chance. Part of the reason why he made that promise was because he sort of felt like his teacher sent him out set up to die, and it’s only luck that he made it through his first couple of years.

He has gone to the funeral of every single student he has ever had who did not make it. He goes back to their graves every year.

He was fucking petrified after Yokohama that society would push these kids too far too soon. Every single one of his classes before them had gotten the benefit of being practically unknown their first few years. They didn’t have the world talking about them like they were already the top heroes. He was terrified they wouldn’t have the space to learn and grow when they started.

A lot of teachers would have tried to mine the notoriety of Yokohama to hard launch their students’ careers. Aizawa told Nedzu point blank that he would quit tomorrow if he did not help him quash this thing as much as possible, and nedzu agreed.

This world killed its real heroes. It sucked them dry and left them like All Might, and he just needed fucking time. He needed fucking time to let them be kids and maybe they’d survive.

Izuku ended up being the one who escaped the aftermath of everything the least. His Quirk was too much like All Might’s for the world to let go of him easily.

And then Stain got fucking dogpiled by idaten in the aftermath of the Tartarus prison break and implied he considered Izuku the only true hero in the absence of all might and everyone started asking super inconvenient questions like ���how does stain even know you exist” and “no really he called you by your actual legal name how does he even know that” and it just. It didn’t help things. Izuku’s suffering.

So yeah. There was just this absolute collision of a total lack of faith in current heroes combined with a huge swell of public trust in class 2-a that led us to being in the landscape we are now. All of the currently licensed heroes said that they wouldn’t be there to save the public, and then Class 2-A immediately hit back that they would be there. Actually, they’ll risk everything to be there. They’ll die to protect the public and they’ll risk the entire future they had been trying to build and they will fucking be there to save them.

There’s a lot of people that never forgave the heroes for deserting Yokohama. And there’s even more people who have absolute faith in Izuku and his classmates because they didn’t. That’s why the world is watching them so aggressively. These kids are the most trusted heroes in Japan right now.

I wish I could fit in more about what happened, because I love this backstory so much, but 1) some of it absolutely requires POVs like Endeavors, which we won’t get in pez dispenser debris, 2) there’s no one POV that could tell the full story via flashback and 3) it’d just be too long of a divergence. Like. It really is a whole fic of its own. I’d love to write it one day but I probably won’t have the time

[hammerhead-jpg]

They're so everything to me

(click for better quality jeezus)

I stole both of the poses from a drawing the user tacodemuerte on Instagram did (they drew it better than me tho)

Speedpaint under the cut (WARNING: flashing imagery)

If you by chance noticed that I posted like one speedpaint besides a drawing I did and never did it again, it's because making speedpaints in firealpaca is A PAIN IN THE ASS. Unlike with other apps like ibis paint or procreate it's not something that it just does automatically for you. No instead you have to manually start a speedpaint and save it as a file on your computer. But of course it isn't just as simple as that no no, you have to manually end the recording as well and export it as a gif, and if you don't the speedpaint isn't going to be able to be opened. That means that if you plan to close the program you need to end the recording and start a new one the next time you start up again, and you better hope your program doesn't crash because the actual drawing might be auto saved but the recording sure as hell won't!

And believe it or not I don't really finish full render drawings in one sitting. But the thing is that even if I did I still wouldn't be able to have only one recording because if you keep it recording for too long the file will crash when you try to end it and your speedpaint will be lost forever, so you have no other choice but to have multiple short parts of it

And an important piece of information to keep in mind is that there is an option for how long you want the gif to be, but I set it as the no specific length option because I don't the different gifs with be different levels of sped up (since in theory if I set every gif to let's say 60 seconds, a recording that is 2h and one that is 20 minutes is going to be the same length which obviously means different levels of getting sped up) which resulted in some of the gifs being up to 3 minutes long. So because I don't want to post like 16 separate 20second to 3 minute gifs here I put it in an editing program where I can put them all together and then speed up the final video which means I have to send them from my computer to my phone via email.

This is where the pain really starts.

The 6th gif doesn't want to load so I send it again. It doesn't want to load again. I connect my charger to the computer so I can transfer it manually. It isn't working. Oh wait nvm I accidentally sent over the png version (because did I fail to mention that it also saves a png for some reason?). Send over the gif version, it doesn't send. Try it like ten more times. It still doesn't send. I try downloading it through email again. Nvm it downloaded

Then all of a sudden the editing app is telling me I don't have enough space to insert the gif in. So I have to clear up some storage in my phone.

When I tell you. Every other time I had to either import the gif or even download it I had to clear up space on my phone. And there were like, 17 gifs. I deleted hundreds of pictures and videos. I deleted apps. I deleted things I cannot get back. For a FUCKING SPEEDPAINT. My phone literally crashed as I was doing this. NEVER IN THE 6 YEARS I HAD THIS FUCKING PHONE DID IT EVER CRASH?!? I cannot begin to describe the awfully repetitive and soul sucking loop that I had to go through. Because of the nature of the program I can't put a gif in and then delete it from my gallery because it would just delete it in the project too

And even once I downloaded and combined all of them I still wasn't done

Because despite all of them being speed paints they were around 26 MINUTES COMBINED.

I mentioned that I speed up the finished result because of this yeah? Well I would usually do this by exporting the unsped combined video and then speeding it up in another project so that I don't have to set each video in the program to a specific speed only to realize "hey I actually want it faster/slower" and go redo all of it. Well today I had to do exactly that considering that if downloading 3 minute gifs was enough to break my phone I didn't want to even think about what would happen if I attempted to download a 26 MINUTE video so yippie

I know a lot of this was my fault considering my storage has been almost full for some time now, but still it's safe to say I won't be making speedpaints for some time

Thank god I don't post on TikTok because if I had to receive a "can I see the speedpaint?" comment on every single drawing I ever made I would have to start putting people's ips in my bio

[frostedsketches]

( Before you continue, please do not comment or repost with any inappropriate context. It's sad that I have to bring this up, but after having a problem with this on DA and something in a similar taste here on Tumblr just recently, I feel that it is necessary. I am a minor, and in my opinion, pregnant bellies are wholesome and not something to be sexualized, so I will not tolerate any person trying to warp any aspect of this piece into anything pertaining to fetishes or NSFW in any way. We all know how babies are made, we don't need you to yell the specifics with blatancy. Anyone who does will immediately have their comment deleted/reblog hidden, and will be blocked.

Thank you for your time <3 )

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had to have had the hardest time expecting their young ones out of the Mane Six: Pinkie because she's a short pudgy little muffin carrying twins with the tallest stallion in Ponyville and Fluttershy because, well. . . giant hybrid draconequus baby with chaotic powers carried by a lanky and petite mare such as herself. You can imagine the weight off-set they had to struggle with, especially in the last few months.

Pinkie has almost always wanted to be a mom. She's a people person, adores little kids, and all those years of throwing them and their families parties as well as Cuteceañera's, weddings, baby showers, and every kind of celebration in between let her see first-hoof the treasured memories made, and relationships brought closer together by the entertainment she brought forth. You can see how this might make someone like her long for the same, to feel what a wife and a mother feels and have a family of her own.

This desire was fortunately shared by Cheese who had witnessed much of what she had in his career and often wondered something similar, and though they didn't plan to have kids quite as early as five months after their wedding, they joyously welcomed the surprise. Pinkie often finds herself staring at her unborn twins and realizing over and over that her dreams are really coming true.

Pinkie normally isn't the tidiest pony ever, though she isn't the type to sit around without something to keep her busy — but like most mares with one, or in her case two, little buns in the oven, she started nesting, and when that happened, there was no stopping her.

Other than this her life went on normally, even seven months in she was still throwing parties, making ponies laugh and smile, and baking ( with close supervision from Cheese, more on that later ). In the last few months however, she did find herself slowing down and allowed herself to become more reserved, resting up for the big day and the strenious days following.

Doctors orders were to stay away from sugar after she let it slip how much she consumed on a day to day basis — though considering the twins are from Pinkie's peculiar genes, I doubt it would have mattered either way — and Cheese had a heck of a time making sure she did as told. It's not easy giving up junk food entirely when you're used to eating like that for so long. She still baked as mentioned before, under Cheese's supervision, and Cheese spent most of his time making sure his wifey didn't consume anything she was baking.

Soon though, the thought of using honey instead of sugar popped up, and she was able to eat special honey sweetened treats if she ever just couldn't ward off the cravings.

Fluttershy's foal being half draconequus and chalk full of chaotic powers no less, often gave her symptoms and side affects that one wouldn't consider normal. On top of the usual pregnancy symptoms, she also had to deal with magical stuff like sneezing bubbles, throwing up confetti, changing the colors of her coat/mane/eyes etc etc, one time she had the ability to turn everything she touched into cheese, including living organisms — THAT was a fun eight hours. All this, plus back pain and limited wing usage from her kiddo's size, overall did not give Fluttershy the best experience.

Despite everything above, Discord did his best to help her ease these strange symptoms, wether it was simple comfort methods or magical help to lessen her magical effects. One example of that, when Fluttershy's hurting back got too much for her, since she couldn't lay on her stomach to ease the pain, he would make himself into a makeshift maternity pillow. This way she has a perfect sized donut hole for her belly to rest in while the rest of her is laying comfortably on top of her hubby's velvety soft noodle side whenever she needs it, and Discord gets a warm, beautiful, feathery pegasus blanket to keep him warm, so he didn't mind in the slightest.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed ^^ and I mean what I warned up there!

Toodles~

[incognitopolls]

Hello!

I was wondering, what are the chances of not getting your question posted for whatever reason? Like, maybe it wasn't considered appropriate for some or simply you didn't want to post it (and that's is completely fine and understandable). Like, how often does it happen? I've been waiting for about six months for my question to get posted, I just would like to know how likely it is to be left unpublished

Thank you and love the blog! :)

Another anon asked:

just a curious question - how many repeat polls have you received ever (or maybe how common idk)

I get a lot of repeat submissions! I haven't ever counted– and for the most part, I just delete them, so there would really be no way to count. I have a (partial) log of a bunch of the duplicate and off-topic submissions at @incognitopolls-inbox. You can check over there to see some of the polls I receive that I don't end up posting.

I looked through a random 3-day period of my inbox that I knew I haven't touched yet. Between the three days, there were 78 submissions that I would post, 18 submissions that I would not post, and 7 that I'm not sure about. That's a total of 103 submissions, meaning about 75% (of that particular sample pool) will get posted. Some of those "no"s are duplicates, some are off-topic, and there are one or two where I just couldn't figure out what was being asked.

Some that fall into that "I'm not sure" category are questions that are highly localized to somewhere that is not very heavily represented in the users that these polls reach, like "Belgians, how did you feel about [Belgian event]?". Nothing against Belgians, you just won't get much useful data from a poll blog whose results show that a vast majority of the sample pool is Not Belgian. Sometimes those are still fun to run, but I tend to "no" them more often than not.

Aside from duplicate and clearly off-topic submissions, there are a few other (less common) reasons I might not post a poll. It's impossible to give an example of every possible thing I'd veto, but some of the ones in that batch are things like "who should be allowed to say XYZ slur?" which frankly has never been a productive conversation to have on tumblr. Likewise with "Do you think [oppressor group] has a [moral/legal/religious/historical/biological/whatever] right to oppress [oppressed group]?"– there are some submissions that won't even see the light of day via @incognitopolls-inbox. No thanks.

[ineffable-suffering]

INEFFABLE META MASTERPOST

Because I'm slowly losing count and need to organize. So, here's all my self-written metas or ones that I reblogged with my own added theories and commentary! In rainbow colours, naturally.

1 – Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why. My most lengthy and proudest meta about the Final Fifteen and why I think Aziraphale lied on purpose. (Also: The absolute darling @esthermitchell-author bravely fought their way through it and wrote up some more interesting points and different takes on what I came up with. If you want to go down a S2 rabbit hole with us, go read it here.)

2 – Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator (links below) A three-part meta in which I try to analyse and explain that all of the minisodes in Season 2 are not objective narrations but actually Aziraphale's memories.

Part 1: The Story of Job

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

3 – The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie A meta in which I go into unnecessarily great detail about how the Whickber Street Meeting Cotillion Ball was meant to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley.

4 – Crowley & Aziraphale were never free (reblog) A reblog of @baggvinshield's post in which I explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

5 – In Defense of Aziraphale (double reblog) A double try at explaining why I think Aziraphale's POV in the Final Fifteen is just as horrible as Crowley's and why I don't think him "choosing" to go back to Heaven was the only point of his character journey.

6 – The Art of Miscommunication: Ineffable Edition A meta in which i once again explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

7– Season 2 Bookshop Shot Meta A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a single bookshop frame in Season 2.

8 – What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle? A mini-meta in which I propose the theory that Jimbriel helped with the miracle to hide himself away from Heaven & Hell.

9 – Things in Good Omens Season 2 I still find weird (reblog) A reblog of @ok-sims and many other great OPs' thoughts on the weird loose strings in Season 2 and what unanswered questions I still have myself.

10 – The Deleted Bookshop Scene (reblog) A reblog of @skirtdyke's video and @i-only-ever-asked-questions' smart thoughts on it, with my own overly-excited 'what that could have meant for the "It's too late" line'-theroy.

11 – The Bentley Handle Easter Egg A meta I can proudly say has been liked by none other than Mr. Neil Gaiman himself about Crowley's Bentley handle that might have existed before the Bentley ever did.

12 – The F*cking Eccles Cakes A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a pastry. (Addendum: People said very smart things in the comments of the post!)

14 – Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley" A meta in which I make myself sad by connecting that infamous line to Aziraphale assuming Crowley wanted the Holy Water as a suicide pill.

13 – Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles A meta on why Crowley treats his plants the way that he does.

14 – Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post In which I talk about why I want to get Crowley a therapy voucher.

15 – The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens A meta on why the Flaming Sword has no deeper meaning. Or does it? (Updated: here's a reblog from @queerfables who did a wonderfully exellent job at calmly explaining all the swordy questions I was yelling about! Consider this meta solved.)

16 – Ceci n'est pas une plume A meta in which I'm a bit of a nerd for language and also explain why learning French and magic the human way says so much about Aziraphale as a character.

17 – The meaning of "I forgive you" A meta in which I explain what both "I forgive you"s mean and why Aziraphale will always fight for what is right until he wins. Also, the lovely @sharksbeerr translated it to Chinese on Weibo!

18 – Memory, or the lack thereof, in Season 2 A little reblog on how memory is a big and unresolved, leaky-bucket theme in Season 2.

19 – „It‘s always too late.“ (ft. Crowley‘s watch)

A short meta about that lines from Season 2 that won‘t leave my brain (and also Crowley‘s mysterious watch).

Addendum:

The one non-spoiler-y ask I could come up with about S2 that was actually answered by Neil, yay!

Also, this wholesome little post I added to that Mr. Gaiman also reblogged. :‘)

*** This is a work in progress and will get updated every time I post a new meta! ***

[rc-catalog]

It’s that time again—our Creator Of The Month celebration is back, and this month’s spotlight is glowing brighter than ever!

Please join us in welcoming the endlessly talented Lola, @malbontesmrs, to the COTM hall of fame! 💗

From Procreate to her keyboard, Lola is a true architect of imagination—and we’re thrilled to celebrate her work all month long! To help you get to know the magic behind the masterpieces, we’ve put together a short interview where she shares her inspirations, her process, and more! 🌸

💬 1) INTRODUCE YOURSELF! 

Hi, I’m Lola. And to be honest, I’m terribly boring.

💬 2) WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB! What drew you in, and what made you stay? Were there any particular characters, stories, or moments that left a mark on you?

I discovered RC in April 2021, and played enough that when I re-downloaded the app after deleting it, I still had a profile. I actually more or less forgot about it, HS1 JUST finished fully releasing, and I remember reading up to where Vicky gave Bont the food from the school kitchens at least. I think I may have deleted the app shortly after that because of the CY Alexander scene . It’s also entirely possible that I just got too busy and didn’t put it on my new phone. When I redownloaded it in 2023, it was because an acquaintance suggested it, but even then I barely touched it until HS2 started releasing (though I did love SoS and probably played it like 3-4 times before then). I didn’t remember playing HS1 at all until after I played it again, so when I started HS2, and encountered Malbonte and Lucifer for the first time, all I could think was “omg, how could anyone like these jerks”. …anyway, that’s my husband and my other husband now, so I guess I figured that out. I guess all that is to say Alice’s HS brought me, kept me, and continues to keep me on this app.

💬 3) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? Can be both RC related and in general! What first sparked your passion for it?

I’ve been creating (in general) for a long time. I won’t say how long, but I’m probably older than most of those who know me realize 😂. But for RC, I only started in early 2024. I also only somewhat recently started working with digital painting (late 2023). I’ve been writing since forever, but I only recently started publicly posting my work as well. I’m generally not very social 😅

💬 4) DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION? Again, can be RC related or in general! What was it, how did it feel to bring it to life, and looking back now, how do you feel about it?

The first creative thing I did for RC was the first three chapters of my long fic, Lux in Tenebris. I’ll talk about it in question 7 though, because I don’t want to get too repetitive. The first piece of art I posted in the RC fandom was a picture of Bont that I posted from an old account. I loved, and still love that piece. It was the first time I moved out of a more cartoony style, and inspired the HS2 portrait series I ended up doing later. link

💬 5) DO YOU HAVE ANY RITUALS OR HABITS WHEN YOU CREATE? A playlist you always put on, a time of day you prefer, snacks or specific tools/software?

I’m still working on my HS long fics, and I have a playlist I use for those (mostly Rok Nardin songs because they feel very applicable and they’re instrumental, so random words I’m hearing don’t end up in my writing). I write on my iPad with the keyboard attachment because I’m more likely to carry it around than a laptop. I use Word (bleh) because I need it for work anyway, but Word isn’t really friendly for HTML markup and that’s how I write my fics, so I have been considering other options (Rok Nardin Spotify playlist for those who might be curious). I also keep my fics in the cloud so I can access them on my phone in case inspiration hits while I’m at the doctor’s office or something. I save each chapter as an individual file, and for these fics I’ve been posting them as I write them. If I ever do another series like this again though, I may consider a different course of action because it does get a little stressful when writers block hits. My fics are long, and I try to post chapters every week or two, so I’m writing a looooot these days. If I have writer’s block (which has been happening more and more lately), I use different strategies. My bestie isn’t a RC fan, but she’s happy to let me run thoughts by her (which has come to some entertaining results from time to time). Sometimes I’ll just put on that same Rok Nardin playlist I use when writing and go for a walk, because it helps keep me in the mind of it so I can brainstorm. If that doesn’t work… I step away. Close my iPad and don’t even think about it for a bit, or move onto a drawing for a while. For art: No rituals, no things I do every time. I draw when the inspiration hits, and draw until I’m bored of drawing 😂. I have surprisingly very few abandoned WIPs despite this though. I use Procreate, iPad and Apple Pencil. Sometimes I listen to audiobooks while drawing. Sometimes I don’t. Drawing is a very, very casual thing I do. Fun fact: most of my art only uses two brushes and a heck-ton of smudging. Any additional brushes are stamps. I wish I could tell you which brushes they are, but “Brush 4” probably doesn’t help 🤷🏼‍♀️

💬 6) IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER CREATIVE SELF? Or readers in general?

1000% it’s that practice makes perfect. My art feels like a huge testament to that statement because (I think anyway) you can see the major improvements I’ve made in the last year alone. I have one CG that I like to practice new techniques by redrawing it, and I keep them in a row in my procreate folder so I can see the progression and my own improvement. It helps with motivation, but I find it also helps because I can take things I like from different versions to incorporate them into my style. I picked up a lot of technical skills and techniques by doing that. As for writing, I know it’s the most cliché advice ever, but write for yourself. Write what you want to read; chances are there’s someone else who wants to too. The nice thing about doing that, is that you can do whatever you want. And for both, don’t value your work based on its engagement. That was a tough lesson for me to learn, especially with my art, which hasn’t been getting very much engagement at all these days, and my new fic, which isn’t getting nearly as much in the way of comments as Lux in Tenebris did. What I’ve found though, is that every time I start to get bummed about the lack of engagement on BO&BR, someone pops up out of nowhere to tell me they’ve loved my stories and have been reading them for a while. The point is, just because I’m not seeing engagement, doesn’t mean it’s not there; sometimes people just don’t know what to say, sometimes they’re too shy to say anything, sometimes they mean to say something and it slips their minds. Either way, if you work on something you love, it doesn’t matter what other people think.

💬 7) CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY! We want all the behind-the-scenes thoughts: What do these pieces mean to you? What inspired them? Were there any struggles you faced while creating them? What emotions or memories are tied to them now?

Lux in Tenebris – Malbonte x MC HS1 (long) fanfiction (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I chose this one first for a reason, because it is by far the most meaningful project I’ve ever done (and to be honest, hopefully the most meaningful I’ll ever do). Lux in Tenebris is my entire 2024; I started it in January, and finished it in December— it’s over 255,000 words (1100 pages). I was (am? but it’s much better managed now) very sick in 2024, and I ended up in the hospital for over a month. Lux was my main project through the year, and it helped me get through the harder times; it is a tangible representation of my struggles that year. I love Lux, and I hope I always will. I know it’s not perfect, there were a lot of chapters I wrote when I was extremely unwell and could definitely use some editing, but I’m not perfect either. It was the first long fic that I ever fully completed, and it was the first project I’ve ever done that I legitimately made for myself and my own enjoyment; other people liking it was a very unexpected, and pleasant, bonus. (Though admittedly, I did at one point think how nice it would be if a non-Malbonte fan read it and became a Malbonte fan 😂. That didn’t happen to my knowledge, but I had a non-HS1 fan read it and enthusiastically love it, so I’m counting that 😄). It also wasn’t the story I planned in the beginning (I completely changed course around chapter 3, then totally committed to that change by chapter 7). I’m happy with the direction it took though. I poured my whole life into that fic, and I’m still working on the sequel. So yeah, it’s pretty important to me. I loved writing it, I love reading it, and I love talking about it. This fic is my baby.

2. The HS2 LI series

Similar to Lux in Tenebris, I worked on these portraits to distract me from being sick, and I wanted to work with a bit more variety of people. HS2 is (probably obviously) my favourite story on the app, and I wanted to honour it somehow, I guess. I actually want to do the series over, because I feel like I’ve learned a lot of new techniques and improved my art since then, but we’ll see. I have to finish the ABH series first. I actually find Dino and Lucifer to be two of the most difficult people I’ve drawn to get “right”, and those two portraits took the longest by quite a bit to do (Luci with his tattoos especially. Tbh, the more I look at it, the more I reeeeeally want to redo War and Astaroth too…) Anyway, yeah, it was a fun project that I did because I love HS2, and it was a lot of fun to work on. Of course with practice, as I’ve improved, I can see a lot more issues with these pictures than I could when I did them, but I’ll always love the project itself because it was a nice distraction from the things going on at the time. Dino / Lucifer / Mimi / Astaroth / War / Hunger / Malbonte

3. Black Obelisks & Blood Roses (Malbonte x MC HS2 fanfiction) – in progress sequel to Lux in Tenebris (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I debated choosing this, but decided I can’t promote Lux without promoting the sequel I’m currently writing, Black Obelisks & Blood Roses. It’s only about 1/3 of the way done, but it’s already over 164,000 words (650 pages). I’m actively updating at least twice a month, but often more than that (and never less). I grieved Lux in Tenebris when it was finished. It literally felt like a piece of me died or something. I had started planning BO&BR very early into writing Lux, so I knew I was going to write a sequel, but I had every intention of taking a month or two between the two. I did not. I started this one earlier than I planned because I was so sad about finishing Lux that I had to. It’s been a lot more of a struggle to write, especially lately. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and honestly, the subject matter is kind of a bummer sometimes. I’m only JUST coming out of Season 1 now in the fic. BUT, I still love writing it, and going back to my little world with Malbonte and Antigone. I just revealed my first major divergence from canon (and not-so-secret crossover), and I’m simultaneously nervous and excited. I’ve been planning this for months and I’m kind of freaking out that it’s already here. Anyway, my fics take a lot more of my time, so I tend to have a lot more feelings around them. I plot and plan constantly, readjust and rework plans as needed. Even still, I go with the flow while I write, and sometimes things happen that even I didn’t expect but they feel right, so it becomes part of the story. That’s my favourite part to be honest, when I write something and I’m like “damn, that wasn’t supposed to happen yet but it’s SO GOOD here”.

4. Raphael Portrait

I’m two characters (David and 🥰Cassiel🥰) away from finishing the ABH LI portrait series, but Raphael is the latest art piece I’ve completed, and definitely in my top 3 best pieces ever, I think (it could be #1, but I’m biased so clearly my best piece is Malbonte 😂). I’ve started experimenting more with open mouth smiles, which has been fun. I love Raphael’s smile, it’s just… ugh, so cute. I started working on pictures recently where I do the parts I don’t enjoy doing first, so that I don’t just kinda say “eh, it’s done enough”, aaaaand I’m pretty happy with that decision looking at this final piece. I’m really happy with how he turned out (especially his hair, haha and the light fixture in the background 😅). Unfortunately I’ve also been finding him a bit intimidating because I feel like he’s pushed the bar up. I haven’t even started the next portrait in the series (though I probably will the second I put this down because I’m suddenly feeling inspired) (update: I did in fact start it, but I’m still feeling intimidated by Raphael, so it didn’t get done by time of writing 😅).

5. Malbonte Portrait, CG Redraw

Last one! I wasn’t going to add this piece, but I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t because this is my practice CG! I have many, many, versions of this CG in my procreate folder, because I use it to practice, play with brushes, and teach myself new techniques. I keep them in a row at the bottom of my folder so I can see my progress, and refer back to things I like and don’t like about the ones I’ve done. This one is my favourite so far. I love Malbonte, so I’m always happy to complete Malbonte fan art. I think when practicing, especially if you’re going to do the same drawing over and over again like I do, it’s important to draw something that you enjoy doing. This CG is one of my favourites, and it’s a fantastic face-front portrait for practicing faces. I love it.

A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read Lola's feature and celebrate her incredible work with us! And of course, thank you to all the amazing creators who submitted this month—we’re constantly in awe of your talent and passion.

Here’s to you, Lola—you paint stories we can’t stop reading and write pictures we can’t stop staring at. Congratulations, and thank you for sharing your gift with us! 🩷

[sameore]

"The Remaining Piece (The Fourth Entity)".

And what if Doey the Doughman... was more than the three subjects used for an experiment?

So, here is a fanart of Doey! A character many might have found quite attaching with his friendliness.

And honestly, finding something original to draw (and write) about him has been quite... challenging! (Well, there are so many cute fanarts of him all over the Internet!)

Yet, I didn't want to just give a "mainstream" interpretation.

So I've spent awhile trying to elaborate my imagination, and interpretation over this character. 😆

Well, the fanart also turned out to be... somewhat spooky! ÔO But, isn't Poppy Playtime supposed to be a horror game, after all?

But first, here are three random facts:

1) I have to admit I used to think "dough" was pronounced "dahff" in English, till only recently! (Well, considering this isn't my first language, I guess there is still something to learn... :')

2) Ahh, yeah. This fandom definitely helped to move on from previous things that used to consume me mentally.

3) Uhh ohh, wait a minute. HIS HAT IS BLUE?! (Why have I been thinking of it as black...) Ôo

Buttanyway!

Writing this whole thing has taken awhile (to think and rethink). 🤯

Just think a major part of what you are about to read has been already written weeks before I started working on this fanart! (There have been times when I just found it "cringe" and wanted to delete a big part of it! But, I just ended up thinking it would be a waste if I did, so... here it is anyway)

*Disclaimer: This post contains trans related references and some nerdy stuff, so don't read the following text if you feel uncomfortable around this type of subjects. However, if you're interested, be my guest. (To read at your own discretion)

To begin with,

A fun fact about the "fourth entity" is that what inspired me was my new knowledge about… anglerfish! (Thanks, Facebook I guess!)

I'll let you check, if you're curious enough... but I just found this interesting scientifically speaking. It might seem somewhat "horrifying" from our human perspective, though. .-.

Well, while obviously (and thankfully) the context is quite different, I just kept the idea of the big creature living with tiny subjects incorporated into it.

But, one thing that remained unclear to me was if the humans' consciousness was actually still living inside of Doey… or if they were plainly dead and just a part of them were used?

(I might sound silly, but...as I was reading the fandom Wiki pages of the subjects used for the experiment, I was reading "deceased in 1993" when Doey was born. And it seriously confused me! 😅)

Well, I guess if you take a look at the three humanoid heads showing up after Doey transformed to chase the protagonist (aka "the player"), you might notice they looked pretty much similar (which technically would be strange if the subjects initially looked different, and weren’t even the same age to begin with), so… my guess would be that those heads may not have been part of their actual bodies, but just the phantom “embodiment” of the subjects’ personalities used to make Doey. Doey also seemed to keep their memories at a certain extent.

These bits of personalities didn't seem that fusional, but quite distinctive.

They seemed to interact with one another (Doey started arguing with "himself" before chasing the player, for instance), but Doey has been referring to himself as "I" and not "We" throughout the game. (scratches his head)

A) After some thinking, perhaps we could assume their human bodies had been killed, but their consciousness kept living somehow inside Doey (there is a note in the game written by another patient who mentioned waking up in a body that wasn’t hers, which might also apply to the other experiments? Anyway, it seemed to be part of Dr. Sawyer's ambition: transferring consciousnesses into bodies).

B) Another interpretation could be that eventually... their consciousness was never transferred, but Doey kept a "phantom" part of their personalities and memories, a bit like a copy (which might look like some sort of personality disorder from outside, as the switch between them might be drastic and conflicting). Doey would then NOT be the humans per se, but he would have somehow internalized a part of their personalities.

(As bits of memories would have been injected into Doey, he might sometimes sound mature, but he would also have childish "patterns" that would stick to him throughout the years: for instance, he was crying for his parents to go home as Jack would have... while technically, the events happened over a decade ago!)

✔ In both cases, you could still imagine the concept of the fourth "entity", being more or less the dough per se (it would have directly emerged from it, unlike the three other entities that came from the human subjects). Perhaps an extra part and/or the conductor, that would make Doey... actually be Doey, identify as Doey, behave like Doey?

✔ However, in the first case (A), I would imagine this fourth "entity" would be more strictly separated from the three "living" subjects, while in the second (B) it would perhaps be more like a different personality amongst the four (?)

As I was discussing this with someone IRL, we were thinking: if the three subjects are typically represented by the fan community as yellow (Jack) 🟡 , orange (Matthew) 🟠, and red (Kevin) 🔴, this fourth entity could be concretely represented by the color blue of Doey 🔵.

Regardless, I guess the game might just be open for interpretations with its mysteries! And that's also what makes it interesting?

(Or at least, I hope they will leave some mystery in the next chapters, so this universe remains open for different interpretations! :')

-

Pumpkie: Hey Sammy, you made a fanart about Mommy Long Legs before this one, right? Do you also consider we could think of "Doey the Doughman" as two versions: the conceptual version, but also the result of the Bigger Bodies Initiative?

Sam: Absolutely! Doey, as the conceptual version would just be... a jolly, friendly dough creature, working as one single individual I suppose. He would be pretty much clueless about the experiments in the factory, as he wouldn't have been there, nor would he have gone through any trauma.

Whereas, as the result of the Bigger Bodies Initiative, you already know the story: to our current knowledge, three subjects were used, and he happened to be the result of this experiment in Playtime Co.'s labs. He has interacted with the protagonist (player), and the other characters in the game.

Now, I guess the note incorporated into this fanart actually applies more to this... latter version. As for the drawing... I guess it can apply to both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Well, it doesn't mean you can't think of Doey as his conceptual, original version in the 50s, and headcanon him however you want! It might actually be more flexible as the character's backstory remains unclear... aaaand, honestly, you might as well be less annoyed by the angry part of the fan community)

Pumpkie: Yes, as complex as it seems, what you wrote indeed seems to... apply more to, you know, the Bigger Body version of Doey. And, I can't help but notice you mentioned anglerfish as a source of inspiration!

While I guess the tiny anglerfish that "fused" into the big one are like the subjects incorporated into Doey's dough, could you imagine the dough's inner organs could be female? You know, because if I'm correct, the big anglerfish are fema-

Sam: Uh oh… alrigh', alrigh'. First, I indeed talked about internal organs. Because, you just simply... can't see much from outside (not at first sight at least), he looks very "neutral" and can change his shape anyway (at least at a certain extent).

Now, if there were (let's say) something similar to internal female organs in some sorts, and the consciousness of the three subjects still lived inside of him, would they necessarily notice this specific detail? Only the "dough" would know, perhaps... as these organs would be constituting it/him per se.

Nevertheless, wouldn't the dough, as the fourth entity, communicate with the living consciousnesses? And at which extent?

Conversely, if what's left inside were just three "phantom personalities" existing amongst the four, I guess you could imagine things a tad differently: either Doey would know... either he wouldn't. (I guess it would also depend if these organs would "affect" his life at some point, remain dormant or not, etc.)

Anyway, I’d assume he would have a funny karyotype. Perhaps XX, or... XXX? (Typically called "X trisomy", but considering Doey is one of a kind anyway...)

Pumpkie: And what if it was XXXX?

Sam: Wow, that’s a lot of X, Pumpkie! Three BIG X is already a lot, but four...

And where would that fourth X come from, anyway? ÔO

Pumpkie: I dunno... I'm toying with you, but what if there were an impostor?

Sam: Errrrr... if you really want to have four X, I mean... that DNA sequence could come from an external agent? This "extra" X you would like to add, anyway...

Now, if the karyotype was solely made out the three subjects, one might have had a chromosomal irregularity? (And not the usual XY, which could only give three X)

We could also imagine one of them was born a girl (XX), but wouldn't it be a bit... I mean, to my knowledge they were pretty young... and yet, not the same age.

At the same time, I've seen trans teenagers, so I guess it's not such an irraaaaational thought, if one was indeed at least a teenager before the experiment. (Is it reasonable to imagine at least one of them might have been a transboy..? 🤔)

I guess in Playtime Co., they might also have changed the name of some orphans in their files after all, and kept some details more confidential. (Once again, there is room for your imagination!)

I wouldn't think of Jack though, considering his context.

Alongside, Kevin had behavioral issues but good physical abilities (according to the tests he had passed), while Matthew wasn't "gifted" physically but more mature apparently. I thiiiink Matthew was the oldest, though (if I'm correct).

Anyway. That's a lot of thinking!

For now, I'll rather focus my interest on the possibility of the "dough", functioning as a fourth entity. :')

Pumpkie: OK, Sam. I'm a bit puzzled, but knowing you enough... with all of what you said previously, do you think we could headcanon Doey as a trans man, then?

Sam: That's a bit complicated concerning Doey... I guess it really depends on your viewpoint. But, perhaps at least a part of him?

Perhaps the dough as an entity per se, I guess? If we assumed it/he was "born" with inner female organs, but identified as a man. We could, maybe, put it up this way.

 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You could also think of the "dough" as the true Doey, and the three subjects (or phantom personalities) as something extra, incorporated into him?

Anyway, there is a character in Poppy Playtime who's non-binary: a Nightmare Critter called Poe. So, why not after all? I don't know... 🤔

But, you know what? Come to think of it, Doey somewhat reminds me of the logo of “Trans Gentlemen Art”. He kinda fits to be honest. T__T Look at this little hat and... the blue stains. That logo isn't that recent, but... now I find this comparison actually funny. :')

Pumpkie: Oh. That's right: that's somewhat inky... aaaand I dunno, those arms kinda remind me of a scarecrow?

Sam: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pumpkie: Well... now I start getting why you found some interest in this character. There are things that might feel familiar...

Talking about art and inner organs, there is that one detail in your fanart...those things, there. What did you draw? It looks like there is something inside of him.

Sam: Good point, which I almost forgot! 😃 (chuckles)

Yes, those are organs inside of him you can slightly see by transparency...

Not regular human organs per se, but they might have a flexible consistency (they probably carry DNA though, and might have grown out of the dough): basical things that enable Doey to be alive at least. As for the dough’s opacity, this looks like a smol detail in the game, but here is this fun screenshot of it. :’)

He is trying to sneak his head first into that crack on the wall.

Another thing is: I guess he can retract his teeth? ÔO

Pumpkie: Ohh, right: he's got sharp teeth!

Sam: Yeah, at first I thought it was just a thing in the fanarts, as in: people like to imagine him with those while he is in his "basic" form, but then I found out it was ACTUALLY in the game.

Pumpkie: Ah, right, the fan community... You have been in the official server, haven't you? Do you plan to share this... you know, interview, this post in there?

Sam: Errrrrrrrrrrrrr, you know, after some thinking.... I'd rather not. Perhaps the artwork, but not the whole publication? 😅

As I have been observing some reactions, I just decided I might just want my peace after all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pumpkie: Sounds fair.

Sam: Anyway!

That was a lot of... talk over that Big Dough Baby (phew!)

I hope you enjoyed it (I wouldn't have the confidence to call these "theories", but at least "headcanons" or "potential perspectives of representation"? :')

As for my future art projects, I don't know yet, as this one happened to be... the last of my current list! But, I might as well take a break. I've been going out less these past weeks... and my body would probably thank me for seeing the sunlight, and make it exercize some more.

(I'm also a human on my own, after all! And have to take care of my physical health, I guess! :')

Take care, everyone! 👋🏻

[wholahoop]

Writing Interview

Thanks to the excellent @xalandrix, @lqtraintracks and @saintgarbanzo for tagging me! ❤️

how many works do you have on ao3? 61 (though I think technically it's only 59, as I'm pretty sure I still have double versions of a couple of old Yuletide exchange fics back when they moved the collections over to AO3)

What’s your total ao3 word count? 1,242,791

Your top 5 stories by kudos?

A big hello to most of my hd_holidays and Erised fics, lol!

Tea and No Sympathy (52k 😮)

Written on the Heart

The Sleeping Beauty Curse

The Potter-Malfoy Problem

Star Quality

(My remaining hd_hols and erised fics are numbers 6 and 7, haha)

Do you respond to comments? uh, sometimes? I usually respond to comments that come in shortly after I've posted. Otherwise, I tend to have a burst of energy every now and then and leave a heap of replies that can be summarised as "lol this is 3 years late, but thanks for your comment ilu!!!" I've caught up on comments on everything, pretty much, apart from my four H/D longfics. I probably won't go back and reply to everything on those, because I suspect it would take me a full working week 😅

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? My ends range from happy to extremely, extremely happy, haha. Even the one fic that has an open ending I view as happy, because it leaves the characters in a really good place where it's pretty obvious (to me, at least!) that everything is going to go beautifully well.

Oh! I did write an origfic take on the Bluebeard fairytale once, Jam Tomorrow, which has a less straightforward ending? This is the only time I've ever tried second person pov, and it's a more experimental/literary-style fic than is usual for me. I was really happy with it!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? What a difficult question 😂 For non-H/D, I'd say Best Nightmare Come True (SK8, matchablossom) lingers the most in the afterglow, and I think Kyoya Ootori's Guide to Self-Deception for Fun and Profit (Ouran High School Host Club, Kyoya/Haruhi) is pretty lovely.

For H/D, I'd say either Star Quality or The Sleeping Beauty Curse. Though I only exclude Written on the Heart, haha, because the ending is a bit rushed - I think it works well enough and I'm not unhappy with it, but if I hadn't been writing to a deadline oh god I was so late then it might well have been 30k longer, with more aftermath of them fixing the spell.

Do you write crossovers? I was going to say no, but I remembered I did write one once! And Then It Bit Him, a Harry Potter/Petshop of Horrors crossover for the amazing painless_j, who was a really respected and influential reccer back in the day. I think it has Snape's animagus form being a worm 😂

I haven't reread Petshop of Horrors, for years! It's a light horror manga series, with a Japanese nature god, Count D, who basically sells people animals with rules attached, which they inevitably disobey to their peril. Like the film Gremlins, haha. There's a great ship with him and the local cop, Leon, who's VERY suspicious of him, but who somehow becomes his closest friend against both of their wills. It's not BL but it's very shippable. I loved it, but it's also 20? 25? years old, and Count D is androdgynous leaning towards feminine, while Leon is, er, a cop who's clearly resistant to the idea he might be gay and falling for D, so there's a good chance it has some nasty dated humour lurking in there.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Maybe a few times a year? It's mostly hate towards the fic rather than hate aimed at me, haha, although sometimes it's both. I usually just ignore it or delete it. If it really, really winds me up, then I reply 'lol', so they know I've read it, and then delete it 😂

I usually consider it positive, in the sense that if I've really wound someone up, then at least I'm making them feel something with my writing, right?! Usually people who leave rants fall into a couple of categories:

They really, really love Draco, and think he's perfect and pure and blameless, and how dare Harry be even slightly shitty to him, Harry is the WORST. At the pinnacle of this, is the lengthy comment that still makes me laugh/grind my teeth about how Harry was abusive to Draco and I was a terrible person for presenting such abuse as romantic. (I mean, that sounds like it could be a hot, fucked up fic 😂 But it's not one I wrote!)

They are OUTRAGED by the unfairness of McGonagall re-sorting Harry into Slytherin in an eighth year fic, rather than the hat doing it, lolol. Have they never considered that the idea of sorting people into school houses based on the goals and personalities they have when they're 11 - and one of the personality types is 'ambitious and evil', while another is 'everyone else' - is a particularly fucking stupid one? That maybe their school house isn't all that important when the kids have grow up, and have fought a war? And that the only thing the houses are actually used for in the books turns out to be dormitory allocations, house points and sporting rivalries?

They are triggered by Harry taking up the arse, when obviously it is Draco's role in life to be ploughed instead

I did not tag for [rimming, a bad joke, that the couple are fifth cousins twice removed so it's INCEST you freak, etc etc]. Strangely, I don't remember ever getting any hate on my actual incest fic, The Evil Devil Child and the Perfect Gift, where Scorpius is a charming teenage psychopath who finds out his dad is hot for Harry, and manages to persuade Al to roleplay Harry/Draco in his mission to get their parents together. It's even filthier and more fucked up than it sounds 😂 I still love this Scorpius with all my soul.

Do you write smut? Maybe?

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Frequently.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! ❤️ A lot of my fics are in Chinese and Russian, and some in French, and I think a couple in Italian and Spanish too. It's so cool!

Have you ever co-written a fic? Nope. I drive myself up the wall trying to get a fic written. I couldn't inflict that on another person 😂

What’s your all time favourite ship? H/D (yes, I still prefer calling it that to Drarry, lol!)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? A long time ago I completely failed to finish a Snarry fic I'd promised to someone who'd won an auction :( She was very gracious and understanding, and completely forgave me, but I still feel shitty I didn't come through. I used to love Snarry, but it was a complicated ship for me with competing love and ick feelings, and the pressure got to me so I lost my Snarry mojo completely.

What are your writing strengths? Oh, that's a hard one to answer, but with my self-confident hat on: I think I can write a bloody good love story.

What are your writing weaknesses? Overwriting, for sure - I don't always need to use so many words, or have such long sentences. I overuse italics and ellipses and dashes. If you think my posted fics have a lot of these, you should have seen them before :D

I love an adverb! I replace a lot in editing, because showing rather than telling is so much more effective, but a lot also stay.

I also get stuck on particular words/phrases and repeat them. I try to catch the worst offenders in editing, but in a long fic sometimes you just have to go with it - so please forgive me if you spot I used the word ridiculous a billion times, or someone runs their hand through their hair as a nervous tic a billion times, or whatever.

I also repeat a lot of ideas in fics, though I'm not convinced that's a weakness. If I do reread my fics though, it's pretty obvious what my narrative kinks are though, haha: significant gifts, fireworks, proposals, dining at a fancy restaurant, I could go on.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic? Mostly I avoid it - I don't see the point in including foreign dialogue when my reader won't understand it, unless my viewpoint character doesn't understand it either. (And even then, it's risky unless I speak that language - which I don't - because you can guarantee a reader will, and they'll lol at your ropey Google translate attempt.)

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I have plenty of ships I haven't written anything for yet, but nothing I'm actively longing to write - if I was, I would have already started something.

What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written? Oh, that's mean. I'm proud of basically 99% of everything I've written. I think maybe my favourite H/D is Star Quality - I think it's the best paced and plotted, and there's something about pop star Draco covered in glitter that feeds my soul 😂 Plus I love the journeys they both go on in terms of coming to terms with their sexualities - Harry's self-acceptance of something he was ashamed of, and Draco's bravery in doing what always felt impossible to him and coming out to his parents, because he wanted Harry so much he couldn't stand it any more ❤️

I also adore my Ouran fic. I don't write much het, and I don't usually write teen-rated fics either, but it's quiet, and heartfelt, and somehow the most romantic fic I've ever written. Plus I did a ton of research about Japanese culture so I think it does actually feel relatively Japanese. Oh, and I did a ton of research about Harvard too, where part of the fic is set, and I got a comment from someone asking if I'd been to Harvard too, so I considered that the highest of praise!!!

I don't remember who hasn't done this already to tag 😂 So, uh, @bewarethesmirk, @sweet-s0rr0w, @tackytigerfic, @eleadore, @epitomereally, @letteredlettered, @kamaela and any other writer friends scrolling on by who haven't!

[cynthiav06]

Ok, sorry if this is personal.

But how many people sent you hate for criticising and disliking Percabeth?

Also, how many of them sent you terrible reasons to defend Percabeth.

It's happened to me too. I'm so concerned for people like that.

Okay, bear with me on this. I might go on a tangent, and this might get long. ( Spoilers: It did get long.)

This fandom was one of the most close-minded fandoms ever and still is to some extent where liking anything outside of popular opinions or canon ships was, is taboo and shunned upon.

But things have gotten better in recent years or so, I think. Because I have been on tumblr officially for just 2 years, and I started posting like a year and a half ago. And you would be surprised to hear me say this, but I think Percy Jackson fandom is still somehow on the low end of the toxicity spectrum compared to the other fandoms I was and am in.

I got a tumblr account first through The Orignals and TVD fandom cause a YouTuber friend urged me to post about my takes on the Klayley ship over here. I mean, I was on here before that cause I was and am in many other book fandoms along with Spn fandom, but the point is I interacted more with tvdu and spn cause usually most other book fandoms at least for the ones I prefer are pretty chill.

Also, if you know anything about the TVDU universe, you would know that people are freaks for Klaroline, a ship I dislike with intensity, and it has a large backing and oh the sheer murderous intensity of those shippers.

Do I even need to say anything about Spn? I mean, tumblr runs on Supernatural fandom, so yeah, the toxicity can go to a whole new level, especially considering the actors are also dragged in it. But I digress, so yeah, Percy Jackson fandom isn't even close.

And since I was used to that and a more intense atmosphere, I found toxic Percabeth shippers extremely mild in comparison. So I might have less of an extreme attitude on their takes. Personally, I have never received a death threat ever in the pjo fandom, but I have been told that it used to be excessively common a good 2-3 years back by fellow mutuals.

So if you have had experiences with any of that, I am very sorry, and hopefully, you realize that some people and certain opinions are so repulsive and brainless that they do not deserve to be considered.

Another thing that's happened that's good is anti tags have become very handy for you know people who want to avoid seeing hate content on things they like. So most Percabeth shippers, the somewhat sensible ones, steer away from anti percabeth tags and given the butchering that Rick is doing to the already butchered ship in his new abomination of a trilogy, Percabeth shippers have learned to pick their battles. But yes, there are still the occasional hate comments, which some you delete, some you ignore because it's always something bullshit.

When I first began posting I was more on the extremely controversial side of the fandom but you know in the recent year the anti percabeth tag has grown, the fandom has finally started letting ships become more diverse and the arguments against the Canon ships have become more and more grounded.

-------------------------------------------------------

Now, to the important part, what is their usual defense?

1.

Well, firstly, no anti Percabeth shipper is really authentic unless they have had to fight the misogynistic allegations. "You hate the ship because you hate Annabeth. You are jealous of her and are a misogynistic person."

Yes, I do hate Annabeth. It's an opinion reached out of personal maturity. Yes I am a woman, and women can definitely be misogynistic, but do I hate Annabeth because of that? God no, I have much better reasons for hating Annabeth. Literally half my blog is highlighting how toxic and controlling she becomes.

I also hate her because she could have obviously been so much more. She has such good backstory, realistic motivations, and a very prevalent flaw to overcome, and the fact that her character just devolved with each book is such a painful thing to read. How no one on their side even addresses that the flaws exist is literally beyond me.

2.

The second most common reason I get is that Rick based Percabeth on his own marriage.

Listen, people, when someone says that they based something off of something, doesn't mean it's the same thing. Parodies are based off of the orignal but are nothing like the orignal.

Plus, the fact that Rick has terrible consistency throughout the books and forgets many plot points would tell you that he has no idea how to develop some of these things.

The idea isn't the one being criticized here. The evolution of that idea is. None of Annabeth's flaws were tackled for more than a single instance of the plot and forgotten immediately after.

Her controlling nature towards Percy, her blaming Percy for getting kidnapped and being brainwashed, her making him apologize for it; her trying to limit his powers, having a great misunderstanding regarding the Akhyls situation and just straight up ordering Percy not to use one of his key abilities even if to defend himself and we getting a follow up on that disastrous situation when Percy no longer defends himself and almost dies against Kympoleia and Polybotes.

3.

I recently got these ones a lot. Either they blame me for not tagging anti when I already have tagged anti and always tag anti first. I think two of these comments are still visible on my "How impressive you have to be to pull Percy post?"

The next one is me being biased, and all my reasons are not valid cause I am biased and hate Annabeth, so neither of my actual canon based evidence is true.

Pick a lane people. Either let us have our opinion or have the guts to argue rationally on this.

Another thing I do is that while I always tag anti, just in case, some Percabeth fan ends up on my post, there's always a section for Percabeth stans which contains my usual queries or concerns regarding whatever recent take I am elaborating and it always starts with my mild suggestion of being calm and rational and then thinking my points over. Usually, it acts as a buffer between hateful or frustration induced rants.

Either way, it's just the integral part of being in a fandom. Stuff like this happens, it's not good, but it happens.

The trick is to have a respectful conversation with those willing to listen and ignore the rest. It will lessen with time, and if you stick to the anti tag, it will help in reducing most of the unnecessary arguments.

I don't know if there's much I can do to help you, but I hope the post is at least somewhat helpful. I always appreciate feedbacks.

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Another 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' deleted scene that I promised to post: (the omitted shower scene from chapter nine)

this was gonna start where they were walking to the L after dinner... but the chapter was getting too long & it's kind of dumb & just wasn't feeling it lolll. But you can read it if you really want to! (& I didn't proofread it. sorry! Hopefully no egregious errors).

When she finally looks up again, she finds herself staring at the CVS across the street and stops abruptly. 

“Oh, come with me,” she says, tugging his hand to J-walk across the street. 

“Syd!” Carmy says, eyes widening, glancing at the cars approaching on either side of them. 

“Pedestrians have right of way!” Sydney says, pulling him quickly across before either of them can get flattened. 

“What do you need from CVS?” Carmy says, slightly breathless, as they walk in, dry heat hitting them both as the doors slide closed on the Chicago cold. 

“It’s not what I need, it’s what you need,” she says, pulling him toward the shampoo aisle. 

“Oh, you were serious about the shampoo,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly upset about it. 

Would she be crazy if she thought he might actually sound slightly overwhelmed by the idea? But not in a bad way. More in the way where he looks like he’s holding back his actual reaction. She wants to see it.

“I’m not letting you bald in your early thirties because you used 3-in-1 your whole life,” Sydney says, stopping in front of a shelf of shampoos and conditioners and carefully choosing a pair of bottles, which she hands to Carmy. 

“Sounds great,” he says, not even looking at them. The words have a hazy quality to them. She smiles at him, grabbing a bottle of leave-in conditioner for good measure. 

“You need anything else?” she asks him. 

He shakes his head quickly and she nods, walking toward the register, Carmy trailing behind her. 

Somehow, Sydney did not notice them walking through a section of condoms and lube on their way to the hair productions on the way in. 

She notices now though. 

There are a couple of people waiting to check out at the register, and she intended to hang back, not wanting to crowd them, but she realizes now the connotation of her pausing in this particular section of the store. 

Carmy clears his throat. She looks at him. He’s blushing. He’s so pathetic sometimes; she’s fucking crazy about him. 

“Should I…?” he says. 

On any other occasion, she might’ve teased him about trailing off instead of being able to say it out loud, but he’s already so red in the face, she decides to be merciful. 

“What, you don’t have one in your wallet?” she says. “What kind of date is this?”

“You’re so mature, Sydney,” he says, holding back a smile, shaking his head at her. “So mature.”

“You’re the one who’s blushing,” she says, and he blushes harder, grabbing a pack of condoms off the shelf and walking away from her, up to the—now available—register. 

She follows closely behind him, drunk on the ease of it all; the absurd, entrancing way they seem to be able to speak to each other. She’s never had that with anybody else before. She likes the way he smiles when she tries to make a joke. 

In his apartment—a mutually-agreed-upon destination landed on during an L-ride that consisted mostly of staring at each other—Sydney kicks her shoes off by the door and sizes him up for a second.

He fills a glass with water and sets her flowers into them. Then he empties his pockets onto the counter; keys, wallet, phone, cigarettes, then finally, he carefully sets the plastic CVS bag down next to them, looking over at Sydney with a note of uncertain expectation on his face.

“I feel like I should offer you food, but we just ate,” he says, smiling ruefully. 

Sydney stays silent for a second, wondering if she’s being like… overly horny, and weird.

But then she considers the fact that Carmy is still blushing, and decides it’s probably fine. 

“I could, uh, show you how to use that stuff,” she says, inclining her head toward the CVS bag, then, after a moment of silence, quickly adding, “I meant the hair stuff. I didn’t mean the condoms. I mean, we can… we can use the condoms. If you want. But I’m sure you’re… perfectly capable of using those yourself. No instructions necessary.” She forces an awkward little laugh. 

He smiles at her. Not patronizing, or annoyed. He smiles at her like there’s nothing more charming on this earth than her making an utter fool of herself. She watches him bite his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and then he laughs anyway, a sweet, boyish sound. A sound that makes affection for him swell up in her chest like a helium balloon. 

She finds herself scoffing too. 

“It wasn’t that funny,” she says. 

He presses his lips together in a thin smile to stop laughing. There’s color in his cheeks; a warmth to him, underneath all the overly-formal newness of the date. 

She snatches the CVS bag off the counter, turning and walking toward the bathroom without waiting for him.

She hears him following close behind her. She kicks her shoes off, stopping outside his shower and pulling her sweater over her head (unable to stop herself from neatly folding it and setting it gently down on the closet toilet seat. Because heaven forbid it get fucked up; she loves it like an old friend). 

When she looks up, Carmy is standing in the doorway, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on her.

Jesus Christ, are they actually doing this?

Theoretically, stripping her clothes off in front of a guy she just went on a first date with isn’t really her style. 

This is different though, isn’t it? 

Honestly, she doesn’t really care. 

She’s standing in just her skirt, and the bra she picked out that morning (not a particularly nice bra, to be completely honest, she only owns four bras and they’re all the same, just in different colors).

Carmy’s eyes don’t move off her, but his fingers come to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with absurd dexterity, until he has enough room to pull it over his head, leaving him in a white wife beater, gold chain glinting. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Sydney says. 

Carmy scoffs. “Fuck me? You’re the one who looks like that.”

“Like what?” Sydney demands indignantly. 

“Like a fucking angel,” Carmy says, a disbeliving laugh breaking through his words halfway through the sentence. 

“You look like Marlon fucking Brando,” she says. 

“You look cold,” Carmy says, smile softening. “Wanna turn that water on?”

Simple command, but it still makes her smile fade, and her cheeks heat. She nods, turning and reaching into his shower to turn the hot water on, standing on the bathmat where it can’t reach her. 

With her back still turned to him, she reaches to undo the clasp of her bra, sliding it off and letting it fall to the tile floor of his bathroom. 

She hears him inhale. 

Hears a faint rustle of fabric. 

She brings her fingers to the zipper of her skirt and pauses, looking over her shoulder at him. 

He’s taken his undershirt off. 

She stands unmoving for a long moment, stuck in the feeling of him staring at her like a fly stuck in honey. 

“Syd,” he says gently, after a moment. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Do you want to do this?” she asks. 

He exhales a soft laugh. 

“Yes,” he says simply. 

“Well, so do I,” she says, turning back to look at the shower water, unzipping the side of her skirt. “Get over here,” she says, one hand still holding her skirt up. 

Carmy crosses quickly to her; shirtless, impossible. His eyes flick down to her chest, but quickly come back up to her face, like he thinks she might not notice. 

She did notice. She didn’t mind. 

“You first,” she says, nodding toward his pants, still buttoned. 

He scoffs, and a blush creeps up his exposed chest, but he unbuttons them anyway, pushing them down his hips and stepping out of them, left in boxers and socks. 

She lets her skirt drop, kicking it over the same way as Carmy’s pants, and without letting herself hesitate, slides her panties down her hips too and steps under the water, inhaling sharply as it hits her head, instantly banishing any hints of the cold from her body. 

She hears the curtain slide shut, and when she opens her eyes, Carmy is standing across from her, his back pressed to the cold tiles behind the showerhead, totally dry. 

She steps back so he can stand under the water too, but he makes no motion to move until she reaches out and takes one of his wrists in her hand, pulling him under the water. 

He tilts his head back, water running over his face, curls straightening out beneath it. She finds her eyes catching on stray drops of water as they trail down his chest. 

But no. She’s getting distracted. 

“Carm,” she says. “Hair.”

“Really?” he says, with a faint note of exasperation, opening his eyes and looking at her. 

“What, did you think this was just an excuse to get you in the shower?” she says, reaching out to get the shampoo and conditioner and setting them on the shelf. “I don’t joke about curl patterns, Carmen.”

“Right,” Carmy says, shaking his head slowly. “I should’ve known.”

She smiles at him ruefully.

“I still don’t know what was so bad about my 3-in-1,” he says. 

Sydney rolls her eyes. 

“God, you’re hopeless,” she says, “here, just turn around.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders, spinning him to face the opposite shower wall. 

The water hits his face and he tilts his head back to avoid it. 

For a moment, she lets her eyes wander over his back; littered with tattoos, dripping with water. 

She wants to press a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, but she settles instead for dragging her fingers over the slopes of his shoulders, down his biceps, lingering on his skin until she pulls her hands away to reach for the shampoo. She sees him shiver. 

“I never take warm showers,” he murmurs. Maybe to break the silence. Maybe just to talk. 

“Why not?” she asks, pouring some shampoo into one hand and replacing the bottle on the shelf in the corner of his shower. 

“I— oh,” he breaks off as she brings her hand to the back of his hair, beginning to massage the shampoo into his damp curls. “I, uh, I don’t know, just never… had the time for the water to warm up, I guess,” he says, quieter. 

She drags her fingers through his hair, bringing her left hand up to join her right, working across his scalp. 

“God, that’s— that’s good, Syd,” he says, words soft.

He steps back, maybe subconsciously, leaning into her touch. His back grazes her chest and she hears his breath catch. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, freezing in place.  

“Don’t be,” she says. “Step under the water for me though, we need to wash this out.”

“Mmhm,” he says, leaning his head forward to catch under the water. The bubbles of the shampoo run down his back, following the path of his spine.  

When the water runs clear, no more shampoo running down the drain, he turns around to look at her. His eyelashes have droplets of water stuck in them. His hair is plastered to his forehead. 

“Done?” he asks. 

“No,” she says, smiling at how disheveled he looks.  “Conditioner now.”

“Oh,” he says, exhaling. 

“It’s good to leave the conditioner in for a few minutes sometimes,” she says, swallowing hard, reaching blindly behind her for the bottle, uncapping it and squeezing some into her palm. He watches her do it. “Makes your hair softer, you know?”

“Whatever you say,” he says, though he doesn’t seem particularly invested in her haircare instructions. 

She doesn’t make him turn around this time, just smooths his hair back with one hair and combs the conditioner through with the other, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut as she drags her fingernails lightly over his scalp. 

When she’s done, he doesn’t open his eyes. 

She studies his face for a second; greedy and unhurried. 

He’s so fucking beautiful. 

“Carm,” she says. 

“Mm?” he says, eyes opening. 

She smiles softly at the dazed expression on his face, and drops her eyes to his lips. As she leans into him, she sees the tiniest flicker of surprise, and then he’s leaning back to meet her, that hungry kind of kissing that unfailingly disarms her. 

Her chest presses against his, their wet skin sliding easily together, making her body hum to life. 

She isn’t sure if she steps forward, or he steps back, but as they move together, the shower water begins raining down over both their heads. Sydney tastes flat water catching between their lips; the shock of the heat of it makes her gasp, and when she pulls back from Carmy, he’s red and breathless.

“I… think it, uh, washed itself out,” she says, glancing at his hair. 

“Yeah?”

She nods slowly.

“Smells good,” he says, running his fingers through his own damp hair. 

She smiles at him. “It’ll be soft when it dries.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” she says, nodding, becoming less capable of words as he stares at her more intensely. 

“You wanna… dry off?” he asks. “Then we can… you know. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah,” she says. 

He reaches behind him, turning the water off. 

There are towels under his sink and he tosses her one. 

“Don’t you dare towel dry your hair,” she says. 

He blinks at her. 

“Wha—how am—what am I supposed to do if I don’t towel dry it?”

“You need to scrunch it up and let it dry naturally.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “Maybe show me that next time.”

She rolls her eyes as he towels his hair off in a way that is absolutely going to undo any progress she made. But she doesn’t really care. 

“Bedroom?” she asks, wrapping the towel he gave her around herself. 

“Yes,” he says,