#am i going to have to make a tag specifically for the eggs

[gravitysketches]

🥚

WHAT THE FUCK

chat its been days since the last egg post

[meamiki]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[taps mic] wings are to black mages as tails are to genomes, they're just axolotls about it

[boolger]

Never getting rid of me - John Price x reader

Hi sinners, so here are some dark!john price x reader thoughts that got out of hand. Yes, inspired by the song ‘never getting rid of me’, both the musical version but also the more creepy version by Egg on Spotify.

Dead dove don’t eat. Read the tags. Mdni. 18+. Tw creepy ass Price, stalking, kidnapping, non-con and dub-con, forced marriage, forced gender role/stereotypes, non-con punishments, loss of virginity, daddy kink, squirting, just….dont read if you’re looking for a sweet fic w John price. There will also be feet kink and scent kink.

Reader is chubby and described as having a pussy and perceived to be a woman by Price. Whether or not the reader actually is this, is up to you, really. besides that, i did my best to keep the description of reader vague. I apologize for any grammatical errors. English is not my first language and i am ttired

Something something dark! Price who sees you randomly at a coffee shop where you serve him awful tea - but it’s okay, pet, because you are the most beautiful and innocent thing Price has ever seen.

Dark!Price who knows it’s best to be sweet at first as to not scare you away - he can’t lose you this early, you’re perfect for his retirement after all, even though that’s far into the future. So despite the bloody awful tea, Price does his best to be a regular at the shop.

He even walks you home afterwards, you just don’t know it. He doesn’t consider it stalking — no no, he is just making sure you come home safe after your shift! Never know what kind of men are out there after all, besides himself of course.

While you’re at work, he breaks into your house early, going through everything throughout a couple of days. After an hour or two (sometimes three if he is feeling cheeky) he leaves, going to the shop to see you. He has time off before the next mission, what else is he supposed to do?

And is that a diary? Oh my, how convenient for Price, he needs to know his sweetheart's thoughts after all. And boy, does he learn a lot of fun things in that little book of yours

He becomes obsessed with very specific things in the following days — the way you write the letter J and P. The way you organize the fridge, the way your socks and underwear smells - so sweet, so perfect. All you. He liked how you read a lot of romance, how you always drank dr. Pepper every Friday evening. 

Okay, so you might prefer coffee, but don’t worry, Price knows he can fix that! You just need to taste actual tea, good tea, not the dog piss he drinks at the coffee shop almost every day by now.

He pulls a few strings and gets access to all of your electronics and oh isn’t it fun to see what you do on your phone every day, what music he needs to get on CD, because a silly lass like you can’t be trusted to have a phone when you get together in the future, can you? Not at first at least, maybe you can earn back the right with time.

Dark!Price loves seeing what kind of porn you watch. Loves seeing what your search words are, whether it’s kinky or not.

Especially after reading in your diary that you are a virgin! It has him frothing at his mouth, the urge to take you instantly, overwhelmingly strong when he sees the words for the first time.

Of course he always makes sure to put everything back in the exact same spot and way as he found it. Can’t have you stop writing in your sweet diary, it’s his favorite book already!

The first mission he goes on is awful. Sure everything goes smoothly and even though he has installed hidden cameras all over your apartment, it isn’t the same as being there.

Dark!Price who proudly shows you off to his team - the boys need to see who their captain is in love with after all. And he trusts his men, knows that they’re just as fucked up as him — they coo at the sight of you, of the few photos he has dared to take of you while you slept. Not his fault that you live in an apartment that is embarrassingly easy to break into, is it, pet? 

Dark!Price who feels so proud as his men drool over your soft curves, talking about your tits and ass and when Price mentions that you’re untouched, he is pretty sure Soap and Gaz almost come in their pants. Possibly Simon too, Price knows him, but he pretends he isn't as affected by the words - As if Price can’t see the man’s erection in his pants.

He gets everything ready, his little house in the middle of nowhere gets fixed up. He always imagined he would move into the house much later, when he actually retired but he can’t wait that long to have you. He loves the idea of having his missus all ready for him whenever he returns from work. All his. He would never let you go, you would always be his. He would take care of you forever - he already imagined bringing you to his mom, bless her. Old and sick, but you would charm her, he is sure.

Price who asks you out after two months of coming regularly to the coffee shop, putting on his best charming smile - and of course you, his future bride, says yes! All shyly, barely able to look him in the eyes, but there is a jump to your step afterwards and you’re grinning like you won the lottery.

Price, who is the perfect gentleman at the date, he takes you out somewhere nice, pays for everything despite your protests, soaks in all of your attention, who loves every second he spends with you. He is ready to declare his love for you at the end of the night but he knows it’s too early. He doesn’t try to kiss you, doesn’t even imply he wants to get in your knickers, despite his strong urge to do so. No, no need to scare you away.

so imagine Dark! Price’s reaction to seeing your diary entry the day afterwards - you describe him as too sweet, unsure if you’re ready for a relationship - almost upsets him, until the last line. He would probably be a nice person to lose my virginity to. That’s as good as a love confession to him! A bloody proposal almost and despite not having planned to move things along this quickly, well he has to, doesn’t he?

It’s embarrassingly easy to kidnap you together Gaz. He just happens to drive by you on your way home after a long shift, and saying “want a lift, sweetheart?” is all it takes.

Gaz who was hidden in the backseat and the moment the doors closes and locks, he sits up and uses one of those fancy syringes to stab you. Don’t make a fuss, don’t be silly, birdie, it’s all good! Just take a nap, eh? 

Nikolai and the rest of the team are almost finished packing up your things - they’ve been at it all day after all, dark!Price has personally packed the most important parts of your home, like that nice diary of yours, sextoys and underwear and all those nice photo albums you have. Nothing is getting left behind! You need to feel at home at his house after all. The boys almost deserve to have their fun with you at some point in the future.

He is there when you wake up, smiling happily at you, as you groggily take in the basement you’re currently in; See how some of your furniture is down there, the nice green color he painted the walls, how it’s your own lampshade hanging from the ceiling. He lets you take in the wedding dress hanging proudly in front of the wardrobe, the little bathroom not too far from you - the cameras that hang everywhere, not even attempting to be discreet. He has to make sure you’re behaving after all.

Dark!Price who gets incredibly turned on when you realize you’re wearing a metal collar and chained to the wall - the way your eyes widens and how confusion visibly changes into fear. Like a little prey releasing they’re in a trap - and unable to get out.

he is extremely proud over how he doesn’t take you right then and there, despite how much he wants too.

Oh how adorable your attempts at attacking him are! Even though you’re still groggy from those nasty sedatives, you hit his chest and try to claw at him. Screaming and crying, throwing a proper tantrum! He can’t help but laugh as you threaten him. “sure you’ll go to the police, pet” he agrees while he easily catches your fist that was aiming for his nose, “but no I’m not letting you go.”

you scream bloody murder, as if he has done you anything. Ridiculous. But Price patiently (and easily) fights you off all day. Teasing back, pointing out that it’s not that bad down here, trying to explain that the two of you are going to be together forever.

Price who lets you run out of energy that first day, until you’re a sobbing mess - gathering you into his arms, promising you that he is never gonna leave you, that you’re never getting rid of him. Not like all those other people in your life, no don’t worry, princess! Price will be your daddy, he will make sure you have everything you need! You’re not even going to work at that lousy job anymore, pet, don’t worry, he already quit it for you. 

Dark! Price, who is all sweet and gentle as he comforts you, kissing your forehead and temple, muttering about how silly you are - that he understands that you might feel a little overwhelmed - but look at how pretty your wedding dress is, sweetheart! All in the different sizes as well, don’t worry, he has taken your measurements and bra sizes and everything, his missus doesn't have to worry about anything. He saw your Pinterest boards, Gaz and Soap showed him how the website works, and saw all the different dresses you had dreamt of. Isn’t this perfect? Just for you!!

Dark! Price who doesn’t outright admit to having read your diary, breaking in or stalking you, despite all those accusations of yours… no no, he didn’t he just … got ready for the two of you to be together - but of course he knows so much about you sweetheart, he has seen the daddy kink porn you watch regularly, yeah he knows you’re a virgin. No no, he won’t rape you, what’s that all about? No, you’re saving your virginity to marriage, you’re a good girl - the two of you can wait another week, that’s nothing.

and after everything, how nice he has been and how he has sat everything up in the basement you’re still angry with him? Don’t be absurd, sweetheart, you would come around soon - you were going to be his missus after all, what kind of wife would you be if you didn’t want to talk to him?

Something something, he ends up pushing you to the floor, holding your hands down as he takes his time to properly smell you. Your pussy, over your clothes, don’t worry - your armpits. Grabs your ankle and sniffs your foot too. Sweet all over!

dark! Price who loses control of his anger when you throw the entire tray of breakfast that he made for you, at him. The tea is not too hot because of the milk, but still. You made a mess and that isn’t nice. He takes you over his knee for that, slapping your arse and upper thighs sore, leaves you an absolute mess. He apologizes afterwards of course, not really because he feels bad about it, but because you made him do that. He has to make sure you understand that there are consequences for your actions! 

Dark!Price who keeps you downstairs in that little basement of his, while you get your worst fits over with. He expected these, you’re a strong woman after all, you just need to understand that the two of you are meant for each other. Next week the boys will swing by and they’ll be witnesses as the two of you get married - isn’t that grand?

No, the shop won’t be looking for you, bird, don’t worry about that! You already quit immediately - had to move home for a family emergency, but you were very sorry about it. You already terminated your apartment lease too, moved out already! Pesky family emergency again, innit? No no don’t cry pet, Price knows you don’t have any family you’re close with, it’s okay. Nobody is hurt! All is good! You’re just being silly, you don’t know how good all of this will be for you. How you will be a perfect missus!

He will threaten and hurt you all week, but not touch that sweet pussy of yours - grope you? Sure, but nothing more than that. You’re not married yet after all. 

Price who sweetly explains that he knows you love him, even if you can’t say it out loud yet! That’s alright, sweet pet, you will be able to soon!

Dark! Price who happily makes it clear to you that making any kind of fuss at the town hall and they will kill everyone. You won’t have to wear the beautiful dress at the town hall, no, Price got you something much more simple, they don’t deserve to see you at your most beautiful - it will be quick anyways, don’t worry sweetheart. Just sign the papers. No fuss, remember? No protest - look, all the boys dressed up nicely in suits - and look! They’re all armed as well. Would be a bloody shame if you were guilty of getting so many people killed, wouldn’t it?

dark! Price who kisses you for the first time after you sign the papers, who almost wants to lick off the tears rolling down your cheeks as the workers of the town hall coos, thinking you’re crying from happiness. And you are, but you’re also a little overwhelmed, aren’t you, pet? Better get you home again.

dark!price who dresses you up at home, forcing you to swirl in your dress in front of his men, Nikolai and Laswell. All of them ignore your attempts at asking for help and you’re a quick learner - you figure out that they’re not going to help you after a few attempts. You’re his girl, his sweet missus, and you’re handcuffed as you sit on his lap during their dinner at home, being fed all the nicely made dinner from a fancy restaurant. You don’t even throw a fuss as you eat all together, so you’re rewarded with some champagne and wine. Good tasting, aren’t they?

Dark!Price who grins as he sends his guests on their merry way, while you begin to cry again, begging to not be left alone with him - aw, you’re so sweet when you’re getting nervous. Is the wine getting to your head?

Dark! Price who throws you over his shoulder then, not bringing you down to the basement but instead into your new shared bedroom. Laying you down on the bed, taking in the sight of you like this. In your wedding dress, surrounded by rose petals, painted all warm colors by the sunset. Cooing at you as you hiccup and cry and hide your face behind your hands, saying you don’t want to. Don’t worry, he will be nice! All gentle for you, pet, it will feel good!

Dark!Price who cuffs you to the bed, pushing up that nice dress of yours to expose your bottom half. Looking at the pretty lace he forced you into earlier, praising you for how beautiful you look! He kisses your thighs, keeping your legs open with his strong hands, taking his time. Finally the two of you are married. You’re going to be his in every way now! With a ring on your finger, a new name — losing your innocence to your husband.

Dark! Price who eats you, Mrs. Price, out all lovingly, enjoying the sounds that escape you against your will. Loving your taste, loving the way your legs shake, the way you cry as he ducks on your clit. He makes you come on his tongue and then fingers, and you’re perfect! Squirting for him! He is lapping up the sweetness that pours from you! See, he will make it feel good for you. He even frees your hands. 

Dark! Price who shushes your cries as he pushes his fat cock into your hole, ruining your sweet pussy for everybody else; he can feel how wet you are for him, croons at how good your cunt feels. How daddy will take care of you, just breathe. Yeah, just like that, c’mon princess, look down to see how the two of you are connected! He pushes in the last couple of inches the moment you look down, taking in your cry with pride, drowning in pleasure and ownership.

You’re so wet and warm around his big cock, he couldn’t help himself, lass! His perfect wife with a perfect cunt, feels so good - he is going to fill you up, don’t worry, but not until he has made you come again and again.

dark!Price who whispers “i know I know, pet,” as you whimper over how it feels weird, how it hurts because his cock is so big. Who drinks in the sight of you as he licks two fingers before slipping them in between the two of you, gently rubbing at your clit and oh, that feels nice, doesn’t it?

Dark! Price who finally begins to fuck you then - no, he isn’t fucking you, he is making love to you. The first round is all sweet and gentle, he is claiming you, taking his time. Covering you in kisses as he rolls his hips, touching all those soft places of yours. He wants to run his tongue over those stretch marks, wants to fuck his cock in between those two breasts of yours. But for now he fucks you as you deserve, enjoying your little moans and whines that grows stronger and louder, the way your body shakes and the way you grab onto his shoulder and back. How those sweet nails of yours digs into his skin.

Dark! Price who makes you come twice, cooing in your ear about how you wanted it after all, how you’re his wife forever now - before he comes himself, hot cum shooting deep inside of you.

The second round isn’t as gentle in any way - it’s after twenty minutes of holding and kissing you, cuddling you and declaring his love, that he takes you again. He fucks you, properly. He makes the bed rock as he fucks into you, making you scream and trash, before surprising the both of you by squirting again. 

Dark! Price who almost fucks you the entire night - yeah, he might have taken some viagra, but he honestly wouldn’t even have needed it, because you naked in front of him is enough. Wedding dress ripped to shreds, cum all over it and over you. You’re fucked from behind, then in a mating press. You pass out during the last round, much to his amusement! Sweet missus, all tired, eh? That’s okay, the two of you got the rest of your lives together - forever and ever, because you’re never getting rid of Price. Never.

[isa-ghost]

Every time I see someone call Lullah "Tallulah" I lose 5 years off my life. Just say you still support W***** S*** and go, honestly.

Her name is Lullah.

Ama (her admin) specifically asked to not be called Tallulah anymore after The Brighton Biter was proven to be an abusive, sexist, disgusting piece of shit by multiple women who have known him. One of his other victims literally spoke out a few days ago on TikTok and it eventually found its way to Twitter. She changed her name to Lullah, the nickname Phil would often call her, to further dissociate herself from WS. This is also why her egg model was changed to have black hair and a purple hat instead of the brown and red that came from The Biter's common fanart depictions.

(Thanks @deniz20234!)

Here's a clip of the discussion:

(Thanks @masked-ragdoll!)

Her nametag was even changed in-game.

Players who called her Tallulah were CORRECTED and told to call her Lullah. Lullah is NOT a nickname, it's her ACTUAL name from the time she said she wanted to be called Lullah onward. People wouldn't be corrected if it was just a nickname.

Calling her one or the other IS NOT OPTIONAL. And the ONLY people still calling her Tallulah deliberately are people who don't believe WS's victims and proudly loathe the rest of the QSMP community for rightfully erasing WS from QSMP as much as possible.

They even went as far as making a whole big deal and new tag(s) drawing Lullah's old WS copycat design calling her "The REAL Tallulah." These are things I've seen with my own eyes. These people openly harassed people who called her Lullah and spoke out against WS.

This post is to spread awareness for anyone who didn't know all of this somehow. This all took place on one of Phil's streams and I understand that not everyone watched his POV. And I am choosing to believe in good faith that SOMEHOW some people just haven't seen any clips or one of hundreds of posts from people in the community that were notifying the rest of the QSMP community to stop calling her Tallulah because her admin explicitly asked to be called ONLY Lullah for now on.

It's also intended to remind WS's supporters that they have no place in this community and their disrespect towards not only Ama's wishes but far more importantly: WS's victims will not be tolerated.

Stop calling her Tallulah. Her name is Lullah.

Please reblog this to help spread the awareness.

[grison-in-space]

I'm sorry? Pigeons have to coo to ovulate?

okay, okay, I left this one out in the tags without elaborating the other day and you were not the only person who asked-- @nanavn and @corvus--caurinus were also curious. I did not have a ton of time yesterday when my brain was not leaking out my ears, so here I am today.

First, I apparently misremembered my grad school teachings: the best-documented case study of doves being required to hear their own coo in order to ovulate is that of the ring or Barbary dove (Streptopelia risoria), not the rock dove which gave rise to our domestic pigeons (Columba livia). They look like this:

They're the domestic doves you see sometimes that aren't domestic pigeons.

But yes, I was completely serious: hens need to very specifically hear their own nest coo to ovulate. The way it works is this: these doves have a very specific courtship pattern, where courting males at different stages of the nesting process perform first a "bow" coo, then a nest coo. Then the hen makes a nest coo back, and the pair goes on to build a nest together in which the hen will lay fertile eggs.

If you prevent the hen from producing this coo--and the first paper I've linked does this in several different ways with both neural lesions and also mechanical blocks of the synrinx--she will not ovulate. Then Dr. Cheng tried rescuing the effect for doves who could hear but not produce their own coos by playing back recordings of devocalized doves' own nest coos, recordings of other hen's nest coos, recordings of male nest coos (their own males, I think, for preference?) and no recordings at all. Hen nest coo recordings, especially the recordings of the hens themselves, were enough to rescue ovulation effect... but deafened hens who could, themselves produce nest coos weren't able to make ovulation happen half the time even when the male was right there. The male nest coo and his mating display is really important, because his coo stimulates the female to make her nest coo, and that's where ovulation starts.

In 2003, a little over a decade later, Dr. Cheng wrote a whole book chapter about auditory self-stimulation as a phenomenon in neuroendocrine shifts. It makes for pretty interesting reading! I'm going to really enjoy it this afternoon. Stimulated ovulation is actually a pretty common phenomenon in animals--often it makes more sense to only bother ovulating if you know there's a partner around to use whatever eggs you yield up--but this one is one of the most interesting and elaborate systems out there, and definitely the one that offers the most options to a given female dove to potentially consciously control her reproductive output.

But grison, you might ask, what about the doves outside my window? Is this just a function of this one dove species, or are lots of doves doing this to make ovulation happen? So I went looking to find out whether anyone has checked. The thing is that the heyday of pigeon behavioral research has faded somewhat in the intervening decades since Dr. Cheng's discovery, so there's not as much as I might hope where people sat down to investigate the question. I did, however, find a neat study on Columba livia demonstrating that auditory stimulation is more important to courtship displays and success than visual displays are, although of course the multisensory courtship is stronger than either sensory modality alone. So yeah, the cooing back and forth really loudly is part of a display that is functionally necessary for successfully producing offspring, and the auditory component is important for basically every pigeon that has been studied in this respect (albeit that number is pitifully small).

I also found this really interesting review of known uses of birdsong to set internal emotional states in birds (either for the self or for a partner or flockmates) that I want to look into with more detail, plus this really thoughtful review from Dr. Donna Maney talking about how "incentive salience" can use learning and experience to make certain cues bring up neuroendocrine changes in state over time, which helps individuals control how their endocrine system is reacting to stimuli in the world they've been shaped by. Clearly I have some reading to do...

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Of toppings and fillings

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Dessert

Rated: M

Tags: Established relationship; Idiots in love; Competitive idiots, to be more specific; Sexually explicit language; Sexual innuendo; Eddie is a little shit

It starts out innocently enough. Steve is lounging on the couch, Eddie sprawled on top of him. On the television, some home-making show is running, but Steve has dropped into a pleasant doze and isn't really paying attention. 

Until Eddie says, “Man, I could go for some of that right now.” 

Steve blinks at the screen.

“And there it is,” chirps the host. “Crispy meringue with that juicy filling underneath, which is the perfect mix of sweet and tart. With this delicious dessert, your family will-” 

Steve huffs. “It probably isn't half as good as my nonna's recipe. Her pies were the best.”

“Hah!” Eddie exclaims, propping himself up and ignoring the pained groan when his elbows dig into Steve’s ribs. “That only shows you never tried my granny’s baking.”

“Ugh, get off me,” Steve wheezes. He tries to shove Eddie away, only he’ll have none of it, and within seconds, things escalate into a full-on wrestling match. “Are you trying to insult my nonna’s baking?” 

“My granny’s baking,” Eddie purrs, pinning Steve’s wrists over his head. His breath fans over Steve's face, soft and warm. “Would fuck your nonna’s baking against the kitchen counter like a little bitch, and your nonna’s baking would enjoy it.” 

Steve sputters. Eddie smirks. 

Steve feels his teeth grit. 

“Oh yeah?” Prove it, Munson.” 

*

“Okay,” says Robin. “Walk me through this again. He shit-talked your nonna, so you made a bet on whose recipe was better? You’re supposed to whisk it, dingus.” 

Steve groans. His wrist is hurting. There’s dough stuck in his hair. “Yes, Robin, for the fifth time. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“Why is it so hard to understand the difference between whisking and stirring?” she snaps, making to snatch the bowl from his hands.

“Hey,” Dustin bellows. He’s standing next to Eddie, who is furiously attacking his own bowl with the hand mixer, bits of filling spraying in all directions. “No cheating, he’s supposed to do it alone.”

“Cut him some slack, Henderson,” Eddie says, tossing a grin in Steve’s direction. “It’s hard, getting a proper filling all on your own.” 

Robin slouches back against the counter, hiding her scowl behind nonna’s cookbook.

“It seems a bit excessive is all I'm saying. You could’ve bet for money, like normal people? How am I ever supposed to eat anything from your kitchen again, knowing that you’ve been on your knees in here, scrubbing dough off the floor, clad in nothing but a frilly apron, have you thought about that? It’s unhygienic, Steve!” 

“Jesus, shut up,” Steve hisses, throwing a frantic look at Dustin. Luckily, he’s busy shouting at Eddie about tempering the eggs, whatever that means. “And for the record, I’m not losing this. I’ve been cooking for myself since I was ten years old, while Eddie … I’ve seen him burn SphaghettiOs, Rob. There’s no way!” 

“Cooking is different from baking, though,” she says. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Say, is it supposed to look like scrambled eggs?” 

“Whoops,” Eddie says, knocking a bag of flour off the counter with his elbow. “Leave it, Henderson. I’m sure Steve won’t mind cleaning it up later.” 

Steve growls, throwing his whisk down so hard it bounces off the counter and hits the nearest wall.

“C’mon, let’s get this thing in the oven.” 

*

“Esteemed jury,” Eddie declares, setting his pie down next to Steve’s. “This is it, the moment of truth. Two pies have entered into this contest, but only one shall emerge victorious, forever determining who-” 

“Quit it,” Steve says. “Or are you scared to admit defeat? Your topping is as flat as your ass.”

He nods down at their creations. The perfect golden tufts of meringue crowning his own, and the unimpressive, brown crust on Eddie’s.

Eddie grins. “Why don’t you leave your verdict on my topping skills for later, big boy?” 

The kids, who’ve been following the exchange with swiveling heads, frown. 

“Are you still talking about pie?” El asks. “It doesn’t seem like you’re still talking about-”

Robin sighs. “Just cut them and get this over with.” 

Steve nods, grabbing one of the knives from her hand while Eddie takes the second. 

“Look at this and weep, Munson,” he says, cutting a slice and lifting it out of the pan for everyone to see. “Perfect, homemade lemon meringue pie. Crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, just as it should-” 

The topping slides off. A chorus of ooofs goes through the spectators.

“Erm, that’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m sure it still tastes fine, it's just-” 

The filling dissolves into a puddle. It lands next to the soggy pile of topping with a wet squelch. The ooofs turn into eeews. Robin cringes. 

“Yeah, no offense, dingus, but I’m not eating that. Gives me icky mouth feels just looking at it.” 

It’s Will’s voice that makes them both turn around.

“Oh, wow! That looks delicious, Eddie!” 

“Thank you,” Eddie says as the kids scramble to hold their plates out to him. With a large smile in Steve’s direction, he hands a particularly large slice to Will. A perfectly shaped slice of bright yellow pie with a beautiful, firm topping of meringue on top. It’s snowy white under the brown crust. 

Steve drops the knife. 

“But I don’t- …” he mutters, sinking down into a chair with wobbly legs. “How did you- … You don’t even know how to cook!” 

“I don’t,” Eddie smiles indulgently, sliding him a plate. “But I’ve been watching my granny bake since I was tall enough to peep over the counter.”

He presses a fork into Steve’s hand and a kiss to his cheek, patting his shoulder as he saunters off towards the kitchen. 

“Enjoy your pie, sweetheart. I’ll get the cleaning supplies from the closet. The apron, too.” 

Steve gulps around his first bite of pie. 

More holiday drabbles

Looks like his nonna’s baking isn't the only thing that's gonna get fucked.

[plounce]

i am leery of the way that a lot of this website seems to have turned its back on content warnings. i will see posts classifying them as cringe: "lmao someone tagged this 'divorce tw', classic tumblr" (i think there has been a reactionary movement on here against mid-10s tumblr sjw culture, for some good and for some ill). and i remember that one comic about the woman who associated eating eggs extremely closely with her sexual assault. i read that comic when i was 16 years old and it really, really stuck with me. it made certain things make more sense to me. it helped develop my sense of empathy.

and i imagine being friends with someone who has specific life experiences or phobias that might make them more likely be led down unhappy mental paths upon viewing discussion of divorce, or of cheating, or a picture of fried eggs. and i would want to be kind to them as much as i could. so i endeavor to tag obvious things (like blood, gore, needles, black death, child/pet death, etc) but there are other things that i do try and keep in mind, even with my increasingly bad memory. people are not obliged to follow me or keep on following me if i can't/don't tag certain topics, or if i forget too frequently. i don't check each person who follows me. but as a personal example, i'm not going to follow some stranger who constantly posts and reblogs images of needles, but i would hope a friend of mine would allow me to not have to see the occasional reblog that has needles in it.

i guess my point is that you don't know people's lives, or the lives of people they know and want to be kind to. i think there's nuance to everything and that a tumblr account is not a person. and i would much rather hang out with someone who tags every content warning they think might apply (even if some of them seem very strange and out-there to me) than someone who is loudly decrying that attempt at empathy. all we can do is try to be kind and understanding.

[feyburner]

hiii, do you have any good fall recipe recs? sweet or savoury I don’t mind I just regard you as a cooking god and am looking for inspiration

Yes! Here is my current To Make list.

Many I’ve made before and some are recipes I want to try.

I’m linking specific recipes just bc I’m copy pasting from my own list. Sorry for all the instagram reels, you can just google the name of the thing and find it.

I’m going apple picking with my friends sometime in early October so I’m already planning all the apple things I want to make 🤤🍎

And Friendsgiving… so many pies…

SWEET

- French Apple Cake/German Apple Cake

- Apple Tarte Tatin

- Apple Crunch Tart/“The Best Apple Tart in Paris”

- My auntie’s date pecan bread, one of my favorite quickbreads of all time. Yes you are reading that ingredient list correctly. This is for real fruit & nut enjoyers only. If you can’t play with the big boys go home.

- Pumpkin Bread

- Pumpkin Pie (I use the Libby’s recipe but double the cinnamon & ginger, brown sugar instead of white, 1 extra egg, and add 1 tsp vanilla, 1/2 tsp cardamom, 1/4 tsp nutmeg, a few cracks of black pepper, and lemon or orange zest. AND let the filling chill in the fridge overnight!!)

- Sweet Potato Pie (my own recipe, I’ll put under the cut)

- Pecan Pie (same)

- Cinnamon Roll Focaccia/Pumpkin Cinnamon Swirl Sourdough

- Orange Cardamom Olive Oil Cake

- Pear Almond Tart (Tarte Bourdaloue)

SAVORY

- Arayes (made already, so good)

- Crispy Pork Scallion Buns

- Coconut Curry Butternut Squash Sheet Pan Soup (+ Any Vegetable Sheet Pan Soup)

- Veggie Filo Crinkle Cake

- Peanut Noodle Soup

- Fall Squash Galette/Butternut Squash & Caramelized Onion Galette

- Crispy Parmesan Carrots

- Garam Masala Roasted Carrots

- Zucchini Cornbread

- Homemade (sourdough?) pizza with roasted butternut or kabocha squash, goat cheese, figs, caramelized onions

- My dad’s red beans and rice :)

- Spicy Korean Fried Chicken

- Potato Tart with Zucchini & Feta

- Thai Red Curry Dumpling Soup

- Channa Masala

MY RECIPES:

SWEET POTATO PIE

MAKES: 1 x 8-9” pie

INGREDIENTS

1 ½ lbs sweet potatoes (2-3 potatoes) (3 cups flesh), whole, to be roasted

1 x 12 oz can evaporated milk

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar

2 eggs

5 Tbsp (70g) butter, melted

1 Tbsp lemon zest (zest of 1 lemon)

1 tsp lemon juice

1 Tbsp cinnamon

½ tsp kosher salt

½ tsp ginger

¼ tsp nutmeg

a few cracks (⅛ tsp) freshly ground black pepper

+

1 disc (½ recipe) All-Butter Pie Crust*

*I’ve posted my pie crust recipe on tumblr before tagged “recipes”

DIRECTIONS

1. Roast sweet potatoes: Preheat oven to 400°. Line a baking sheet with foil. Wash and scrub whole sweet potatoes. Pierce potatoes all over 3-5x with paring knife. Roast 45 minutes until fork tender. Let cool, then collect 3 cups flesh.

2. Prepare crust: Roll out pie dough (12-14” diameter circle, ¼” thick). Press into tin and crimp edges. Chill shaped shell in fridge or freezer until ready to use.

3. Preheat oven to 350°.

4. Make filling: Put all ingredients in food processor. Pulse 3-4x until smooth. (You can also use a blender, or simply beat ingredients until fully combined.)

5. Pour filling into pie shell.

6. Bake 45-60 minutes until puffed and firmly set (toothpick clean) everywhere except the very center, which should retain a very slight jiggle (but not look liquid). The center will set as it cools. Start checking at 45 minutes and continue baking at 5 minute intervals until set. (If crust gets too brown, shield edges with foil.)

7. Let cool completely before serving, at least 1 hour.

NOTES

Roast the potatoes whole, in the skins, so the sugars & starches properly caramelize. Do not steam or boil potatoes, even whole. They will take on water and make the filling soggy.

You can roast the potatoes up to 1 week in advance. Collect flesh day of.

PECAN PIE

MAKES: 1 x 8-9” pie

INGREDIENTS

2 cups (250g) chopped pecans

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar

1 cup light or dark corn syrup

¼ cup (56g) butter

4 eggs

1 Tbsp vanilla

1 tsp kosher salt

1 tsp cinnamon

+

1 disc (½ recipe) All-Butter Pie Crust

DIRECTIONS

1. Prepare shell: Roll out pie dough (12-14” diameter circle, ¼” thick), press into tin, crimp edges. Chill shaped shell in fridge or freezer until ready to use.

2. Preheat oven to 350°.

3. Cook sugar syrup: In a saucepan, bring sugar, corn syrup, and butter to boil over medium heat for 1-2 minutes, whisking constantly, to cook sugar. Take off heat. Let cool slightly, 3 minutes.

4. Temper eggs: In a bowl, beat eggs until lightened and frothy. Slowly, while whisking, pour ½ cup of warm syrup into eggs. Whisk to combine. Then, while whisking, slowly pour egg mixture back into the remaining syrup mixture. Whisk until smooth.

5. Whisk in vanilla, salt, and cinnamon.

6. Pour chopped pecans into bottom of pie shell. Pour filling over pecans.

7. Bake 45-60 minutes until fully set everywhere except the very center, which should retain a very slight jiggle. The center will set as it cools. Start checking at 45 minutes and continue baking at 5 minute intervals until set.

8. Let cool completely before serving, at least 1 hour.

NOTES

Many recipes do not require you to cook the sugar before baking the pie. However, pre-cooking the sugar (and tempering the eggs) ensures the ideal gooey, silky, perfectly smooth texture.

Toast pecans if desired: Arrange pecans in a single layer on a baking sheet and toast in preheated oven 5-8 minutes.

[the-kr8tor]

Under the clocktower

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Hobie's stuck in a time loop where he keeps seeing you die over and over again. He tries to find a way to escape the loop, at the same time saving you from your fate.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW death, TW injuries, TW violence, established relationship. Time loop AU, angst.

My masterlist

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Hobie opens his eyes, the blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

His body feels heavy somehow, his lungs sit weirdly in his chest, his eyes wide and alert. It's like he swung around the city while asleep.

He shakes it off attributing it to not sleeping well. Shutting off the stove he sighs at the burnt omelet. He briefly sees the clock on the stove in his peripheral- 8:00 am

Good thing he reached the kitchen before the fire alarm went off, he grabbed a nearby rag to fan away the smoke. Suddenly hearing wet feet squelch across the wooden floors, Hobie instinctively looks towards it.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, your hair wrapped in a fluffy towel. Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, hitting your hip against the table. You're sure it would leave a nasty bruise.

"It's too early to burn down the flat, don't you think so, love?" Hobie puts his hands on his hips, annoyed that he woke up so early. Sweats hang low on his waist, an old band shirt ripped at the sleeves, his arms and midriff on full display.

"Ow, sorry Hob," you rub your aching hip, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy" you close the small distance.

"You better be sorry," he grabs you by the waist, inching his hand toward the hastily wrapped belt of your bathrobe. "I'm still bloody tired" he says with a yawn.

"Aww, my poor baby Hobie," you cup his cheeks, "let me kiss it better" you peck the corner of his eye, your soap and strawberry scented shampoo fills his senses.

While you're distracted, he slowly unties your robe. Noticing the sly movement, you grab at Hobie's wrist. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

"Ah shit, that's today?"

"Yep, can't be late" you kiss his lips quickly before he escalates things. "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

"Good luck" he pulls you back by your hand, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way around" Hobie kisses your knuckles while looking into your eyes.

You chuckle, "I know what you're doing, Hobie Brown. It's not gonna work"

"Worth a shot" he finally lets you go.

The doorbell rings, both of you looking at the intrusion. Who could that be this early?

"I've got it, Love. Can't have you answering the door in your robe can I?" Hobie winks at you tiredly, which makes his eyelid move slowly.

"Very sexy, babe" you shake your head as you head back towards the bathroom.

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks disappointed "Morning neighbour!" Hobie winces at how chipper this man is this early in the morning.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly looks behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, disinterested at whatever information he was about to share. He just wants to go back to bed.

He shuts the door with a bang.

"Who's at the door?" Your muffled voice rings out.

"No one, just your neighbour!" Hobie yells out so that the man outside hears it.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, quickly handing it off.

"Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

"Welcome"

Hobie plops himself back on the bed, he groans when his back cracks. He falls asleep to the sound of your humming.

--

Chaos rains downtown, buildings crumble around Hobie while he pursues Green goblin. Everything went bad so fast, he didn't see it coming. Green goblin cackles menacingly while she randomly throws bombs below her hoverboard.

She went completely off the rails when Hobie got a few punches in, desperate to get away, she just started chucking random stuff at him, conveniently one of them was a bomb. The explosion threw him off, Goblin got a few blocks ahead of him, but Hobie's determined.

He swings after the flash of green, he hears the familiar chime of big ben - 6:00pm

Goblin leads him towards the tower bridge, it's packed with vehicles because of the rush hour, that's not good.

"Catch, Spider-Punk!" Goblin chucks another bomb below her, she clearly knows this one will surely cause chaos on the bridge.

With his quick thinking, Hobie grabs the bomb with his web, slinging it away from the crowd below. A shockwave resonates through the old bridge, its old wiring swings letting out a metallic groan. puffs of green smoke cloud above the area.

Hobie hears screams below him, looking down he sees the crowd scrambling away from danger. His senses send electricity through him, he looks back toward Goblin, she's now just hovering in place, in both of her hands she holds belts full of spherical bombs, she holds it against the edge of her hoverboard, threatening to let go.

"Don't you dare!" Hobie webs up both of the belts holding the spheres, ready to fling it away. Before he could do just that, the clips holding the bombs give out, time seems to slow down as Hobie watches in horror, the little balls of destruction falling down like rain. Goblin's shrill laugh pierces Hobie's ear drums.

He ignores the crazy lady, instead he goes after the green orbs. He webs as much as he can reach, quickly throwing them off the bridge, they go off the second they hit the water below. He keeps repeating this process till he's sure he got all of them out.

He lands breathlessly on the concrete, he points towards the nearest end of the bridge, guiding the remaining people off the bridge. Roaming his eyes above to see where Goblin could be.

His senses go off again, Hobie's ears perk up towards the faint ticking sound. He sees the ball bounce off a taxi, it doesn't go off, instead it just lands down the concrete with a clink. He eases up a bit, figuring it might be a dud. Until he looks inside the black taxi, Hobie sees your terrified face against the taxi's window, you're struggling to open the door.

Electricity pulses through him, sounding off alarms. The whites of his mask widen when the sphere stops ticking.

It's not defective, it was just counting down.

You finally notice him, frozen in fear. He tries to reach you, but the shockwave from the explosion stops him, Knocking him down.

The sheer force of the explosion flips the taxi, tethering close to the edge of the bridge. Green smoke covers Hobie's vision, he can barely make out the silhouette of the dark car, he throws caution into the wind, he doesn't look for more ticking bombs, instead he quickly runs toward the creaking metal.

He finally reaches you, as the car finally falls. Hobie quickly webs up the trunk of the car sticking its end on stagnant cars, and columns. He hears your muffled screams inside the deathtrap.

"Hobie!" You desperately scream for him, clinging to the car's headrest, the taxi swings against the wind. You can see him trying to pull you up.

Seeing Goblin wreaking havoc, you see her throw more bombs towards fleeing civilians, you make the conscious decision to yell at him to help them instead.

"Hobie! On your left!" Your throat burns trying to get his attention.

Thanks to his spidey senses and your desperate pleas, Hobie understands quickly, he ties the web he's holding onto a nearby truck, hopeful that it sticks until he can get you out.

"I can do both" Hobie whispers

He yanks Goblin down from her hoverboard with one precise shot of his web, she falls hard on the concrete. In one swift movement Hobie grabs his guitar on his back, using it as a bat, he swings it against the ticking bombs, before its countdown ends.

They explode in mid air, green clouds rain over the historic bridge.

Hobie runs back to you, on his way he notices that Goblin recovered and is nowhere to be seen. He'll find her later, right now he needs to save you.

He swings towards the edge where he last saw you, the only thing he sees is the cold rushing water swallowing the taxi.

His breath hitches in his throat. His knees threatened to collapse under his weight.

"No, not you" he weakly says.

Before he follows you towards the black depths, Hobie sees the Green Goblin rise up from under the bridge right in front of him, a sickenly bloody smile on her face.

"Got your little birdy, spidey" she shakes your terrified form, her claw-covered hand covers the bottom half of your face painfully, your feet floating a few inches off her board.

"Mmph!" You yelp for him as you try to reach him with your hands.

"Let them go! Or I swear I will tear you apart!" Hobie barks out, he doesn't recognize his own voice.

"Oh, okay!"

Your terrified eyes look back at him.

One minute you were in Goblin's hand, the next you were falling to your demise.

Electricity cackles around Hobie, he leaps off the edge, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Shooting a web towards you, he curses gravity, his web merely a hair's width away from your form. Your fingertips graze its ends.

Your head hits the water in a horrible cracking sound.

A cold splash hits Hobie's masked face, he braces for impact.

The water hits him like a truck, but he shakes it off, adrenaline pulses in his body like never before. He tries to find your form under the dark water.

It's dark and quiet under, the only thing he could hear is his own heart thumping in his chest. He hopes to hear yours too.

He roams his eyes, his eyes squinted looking for your familiar silhouette. Hobie finally spots you, slowly floating down towards the endless void. He swims down as fast as his limbs could, his air is running out, he's afraid yours might be too.

He grabs hold of your arm, Hobie quickly brings you against his chest, he ignores the absent beating of your heart.

Reaching the surface was an uphill battle, but he finally got you out. Stopping by the riverbank, he doesn't waste any time doing CPR.

He dares to look at your face, Hobie lets out a pained sound when he sees your dull eyes looking up at nothing, your lips slowly turning blue. He counts in his head to keep track of his chest compressions.

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

" C'mon lovey, breathe for me please"

25 26 27 28 29

Your lips are now a harsh blue color, he whispers your name like a prayer.

30

He quickly puts his lips on yours to breathe into it, he does it twice, desperation increasing in every breath he gives you. He counts again.

10 11 12 13 14 15

He lets out a pained sob, he bites his lips to stop more from coming out.

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

"I can fix this" he ignores the aching in his arms.

26 27 28 29 30

He breathes into you again and again. He takes a step back to examine you, no reaction.

Desperation, fear and anger flows through every crevice of his body. But his mind fills with you, only you.

He takes his stance again-

Silence

Searing pain ebbs out of his chest, crimson flows from the wound, Hobie finds himself impaled on Goblin's hoverboard, his back trapped in between a wall. Green Goblin lets out a victory screech.

He groans out, his blood seeps through his mouth, gagging on it.

He's dying.

How poetic he thought, dying mere minutes after you. You once joked that you're soulmates, he now thinks you're right.

"I DID IT, I KILLED SPIDER-PUNK!" Her laugh slowly fades away, like he's walking away from her.

He imagines that he does and instead of your lifeless body waiting for him, he imagines that you're standing there, smiling at him. His only wish is that you both end up at the same place.

Big Ben's clock rings out again.

"I should've tried harder," He murmurs. Darkness embraces him like an old friend.

>

Hobie opens his eyes, sunlight tears his red eyes open. He quickly sits up breathless. He grabs his chest, kneading it with his knuckles. He smells something burning.

Hobie gets up, heading towards the smell. He stares at the pan - omelette or what it used to be an omelette.

"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, almost hitting your hip against the table. Hobie stops you mid slide with his web shooters. You would've hit the table pretty hard.

Why did he know that?

You look towards Hobie looking dumbfounded. "Hobie, why are you just standing there? Turn it off!"

He snaps out of his stupor, turning down the knob he looks at you, his breathing heavy.

"Shit, sorry for yelling, Hob" you grab a rag to fan the smoke out.

You look at Hobie, he has a weird look on his face. He hugs you suddenly, his face landing on the crook of your neck. Hobie recognizes the smell of your soap and strawberry scented shampoo, he takes a deep breath.

That was just a dream, right?

"You better be sorry"

"Aw, my poor baby Hobie, did I wake you up with my culinary skills?" You rub his cheek with your thumb, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy. Let me kiss it better" you crane your neck to peck the side of his head.

Just a dream, right?

Hobie anxiously fiddles with the belt around your robe, you take it as flirting. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"

You pull away from his warmth, cupping his face, you look directly at his eyes. Hobie briefly sees your lifeless eyes staring back at him.

You take his lack of response to being sleep deprived. "Can't be late" you kiss his lips "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.

He calls after you, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way -" your doorbell rings.

"Could you get that for me?"

Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.

"Ohh, hey!" He looks behind Hobie completely ignoring him, staring at your bathrobe clad body "Morning neighbour!"

You wave at him awkwardly while you fix your robe to cover yourself up more.

Hobie notices, his eye twitches at the realization. He closes the door slightly, so he's blocking the creepy neighbor from you.

"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.

"Ah," he subtly tries to take a peek at you behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"

Hobie's ears perk at the last word. He stares at the man suspiciously.

"What did you say?"

"Ensaymada, it's a pastry with-"

"I know what the fuck that is, it's their favourite, why the fuck-"

A dream, right?

"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, he shuts the door with a bang.

He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, tossing it off.

"Oof, Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.

Hobie slowly walks back towards the bedroom, he sits on the foot of your bed. He feels tired, wondering what the hell is happening to him. He lifts his shirt to look at his chest, no sign of a wound. He looks around your room, nothing seems out of place, it's the same cream colored walls, the same bed, and dresser, the same lab coat hangs on it, ready for your first day at work.

Hobie plops down, his muscles aching for relief, he starts to drift back to sleep, until he hears you humming the same tune, in the same cadence. Hobie's eyes open in a flash.

"This already happened"

–-

Hobie goes about his day, knowing what happens today, he has the advantage. He can save you this time.

Hobie anticipates every move Goblin makes, he dodges everything she throws at him. Bombs still get thrown about, but now he has the time to react before it causes chaos.

She can't get a single hit in, watching every precise movement he makes, knowing her every move before she even does, it terrified her, so she just flies away crossing the Thames, she sees an opportunity to stop Spider-Punk from chasing her.

Goblin in her desperation, haphazardly throws every single one of her bombs below, Hobie tries to fling them away but he couldn't stop every single one of them from detonating. Loud booms and green smoke cover the iconic bridge.

What did he do wrong?

Spotting you from above, Hobie dive bombs towards you, he's a few feet above you, he reaches out to you, your fingers brush against each other as a bomb explodes near your feet.

>

Hobie opens his eyes, he feels a harsh heat staying on his face, like a lingering taste.

"FUCK!" He screams, "this can't be happening" he holds his head in his hands.

"Babe you okay?" You come out of the bathroom, smoke fills Hobie's nostrils like some kind of cruel joke.

"No! My breakfast!" You rush out.

He follows you, as you fan away the fumes, Hobie hugs you from behind.

"Hey grumpy, sorry about that" you lean against his chest, you crane your neck so he could slip his head on the crook of it.

Hobie smells your familiar scent along with a hint of smoke, he promises into your skin that he would try harder to save you, no matter how many tries it takes him.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it"

"Just tired, lovey"

"You know that I love you, right? I'm right here, you can tell me anything"

"I know"

He left your flat at the same time as you, following closely behind your cab. He's paranoid that Goblin knows that she's in a loop too and might try to get the upper hand.

Hobie finds Goblin before she could find him. He leaves her body beaten on the pavement.

How she reacts with his questions with every angry hit, it's safe to say, she doesn't know about the day resetting.

Hobie continues on throughout the day, Big Ben rings its bell - 6:00pm

This time instead of the Green Goblin surprising him, it's the Vulture.

They fight, and eventually end up on the bridge. They clash against each other, Hobie doesn't have the advantage of precognition this time, but what he has is pure unadulterated anger.

Hobie tries everything, but you still fall. Grasping your limp body, he lets the vulture take his revenge.

The clock chimes again

>

Hobie opens his eyes. This time he doesn't waste time, he swings away immediately, leaving you confused.

He finds Goblin, then the Vulture, but still another Villain replaces them.

Hobie almost beats the Lizard but alas with his enhanced healing he gets up over and over again. Hobie, exhausted and bleeding, watches you cradle his limp body, Lizard's massive shadow falls over you.

You both die in the hands of the Lizard.

>47

Hobie opens his eyes, he starts to count how many times he looped back.

No matter how he keeps killing and trapping all the villains that somehow keeps replacing each other on that bridge. More and more obscure ones start filling the role of your murderer. They seemed endless.

You and Hobie have been impaled, electrocuted, burned, and tossed into a vacuum of space. And yet he keeps coming back to the same day, on the same bed, waking up to the same smell.

He ignores it, he wonders what he did to deserve this. Seeing you die over and over again is hell. That must be it, he's in hell, he doesn't believe in it, but after hearing your pained screams, and countless times he tried to revive you, he's starting to believe in it.

You jump out of the shower, running towards your stove, you don't notice him awake.

After seeing you alive and well, he's sure this isn't hell, because if it is you wouldn't be in it.

>81

He tries something new, he confronts your weird neighbor, he lets his anger get the best of him. Hobie dumps the bag of sugar on his head, letting it fall on him like snowflakes.

You still drown, he still gets killed by Goblin.

>104

He wakes up with anger boiling inside him. Why can't he save you? Why is he so slow? Why can't he figure out what's causing this time loop? He lashes out on you leaving you sobbing on your floor.

You die in his arms this time, thinking that he doesn't love you.

He curses himself, as he lets the uncontrollable fire consume him.

>141

He invents various gadgets made from scrap, to aid him in fighting. He wasted the entire day creating them.

Hobie uses them once, but he still fails. You still fall, he gets burned.

At least he gets to bring his hardwork in the next loop right?

>142

Hobie opens his eyes, his gadgets are nowhere to be found.

He curses his optimism.

>173

He has every villain's attack pattern memorized and predicted, he stares at Vulture's lifeless body on the pavement.

He finally beat one on the bridge.

Breathless he looks behind him, he stares at your wide eyes, your white lab coat is a stark comparison to the chaos around you.

He did it, now to get you home.

Hobie was just staring at you, in a split second, you're hanging from Goblin's hoverboard, the sharp end of it sticking out of your chest.

"NO!"

Goblin laughs as she throws numerous bombs at him, Hobie falls on the bridge, his right arm no more.

"I almost had it" he weakly says as the dark waters of the Thames engulf him.

>212

Hobie's falling apart at the seams.

>237

Hobie opens his eyes, his muscles feel like they're being torn away from his bones. His eyes grow heavier with every revival. His ears are still ringing from the bell's endless chiming.

He needs help, so he goes after you in the kitchen. "Hey" he says morosely.

"G'morning, grumpy-" you turn around, gasping at the sight. Taking in his slouched posture, sunken eyes, his signature smirk notably absent. He looks exhausted.

"Hobie?" You ask, as if you weren't sure it's really him. "What happened? Are you okay?" You slowly close the distance, careful not to startle him.

"Baby?" Grabbing his shoulders, he falls forward with a thud.

"I think-" he clings to you "I think I did something wrong"

Your heart breaks for him "could you tell me what it is?"

He pulls away "I'm stuck, I don't know what to do" he cups your face, for a second, he sees blood covering it, your once bright eyes turning white, then your face comes back to normal "Please, help me"

"Let's sit down, yeah?" You lead him towards your emerald couch. Was it always this colour? It reminds him of the smoke billowing from Goblin's bombs.

He puts on a brave face, "what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy, but please stay with me" and so he tells you everything, starting from the beginning to end.

He thought not telling you of your death might help you swallow it down better, so he doesn't, instead Hobie tells you that he keeps dying over and over again.

After rambling you look at him, emotion unreadable on your face.

"I believe you," you kiss his hollow cheeks "I believe you" you put your forehead against his, grounding him to reality.

"I'm so fucking sorry, it didn't work out, our plan" he murmurs.

"What? Hobie, how many times have you asked for my help?" You pull away, cringing at your tone, he might interpret it as anger.

"This is the thirteenth time"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Every single time I've told you, you always believed me, not once you didn't. But I've never asked you, why do you always help me?"

"Because, I love you, Hobie Brown. You could tell me that whales could walk on land, or the sky is falling and I would believe you"

For Hobie the sky IS falling, every time he sees you die, his world ends, and he's powerless to stop it.

"I have every reason to help you, because I can't lose you"

That's a first from you. Hobie never thought of it that way. He was too focused on saving you that he forgot to save himself.

Hobie thinks of something he has never done before in a couple of hundred rotations.

"So, what if we don't do anything? We just stay here, doing nothing" Hobie asks.

"We've never done that before?"

"Never, it could work. Us staying out of danger" determination sparks in his eyes.

"Then let's do just that" you smile.

Hope sparks in Hobie's veins. It has to work.

So you don't do anything all day, you don't go to work, he doesn't do his patrol, Hobie doesn't open the door.

You do your usual things at home, eating together, cleaning the flat to pass the time, savoring each other's presence.

Hobie feels his soul slowly get stitched back together again. This could work.

Your alarm rings out, he glimpses at it 6:00pm

His heart thumps in his chest loudly, he's sure you could hear it too from where you're cuddling into him. You make a fist, before rubbing your knuckles over his chest, your way of calming him down.

You're both gonna make it to tomorrow, he's sure of it.

"I don't know how this could end, but I want you to know that I love you so fucking much. If we make it to tomorrow, know that I will continue loving you every day" he wipes a lone tear on your cheek. "If we keep reliving the same day over again, I will love you in every cycle"

You crane your neck to kiss him, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Your lips never reached his.

>238

Hobie opens his eyes, He lets out a guttural scream.

You rush out of the bathroom, concerned.

He tells you what's happening again.

You have the brilliant idea to leave, just leave the city till the sun rises the next day.

You borrow a car from a friend, grabbing a few necessities, you drive off.

Hobie watches you from the passenger seat, the sun bathes you in its light, giving you a halo of soft light around your head. He smiles tiredly, this could be it.

Once the two of you hit the outskirts of London, darkness wraps him in an embrace.

>239

Hobie opens his eyes.

They tried a train this time. Everything seems to be moving smoothly.

Until the train skids to a violent stop, derailing it. Bags and people start flying around. He tries to web them into place.

He grabs your body shielding you. The train lights shut off, bathing them in darkness while their bodies get thrashed around.

Hobie hears a harsh cracking sound.

The train finally stops, its emergency light turns on, he sees you in his arms bathed in the dim light. Why are your eyes closed?

Hobie feels something warm hit his hand, He lifts his hand away from the back of your head, gore covers his hand. Hot crimson seeps into his clothes.

Not again.

Why does he need to see this again?

Why?

Hobie weeps, as he cradles your body. He lifts his head towards nothing but at the same time looking at you.

"Why aren't you helping me?! Why are you just sitting there watching all of this-"

>240

Hobie opens his eyes. The blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.

>276

He hates that he's getting desensitized everytime you breathe your last.

But no matter how many times he changes some things, he will always try to save you.

Hobie's exhausted, he feels his mind get numb with every rotation.

He feels like he's watching himself, like a ghost haunting his own body.

>348

He's accepted it, after numerous times trying to get out, he accepts his fate.

Hobie convinces you to stay home and spend time with him, he doesn't tell you why, but by just looking at him, you know he needs you now more than ever. So you stay.

The rigmarole starts where he convinces you to remain home, Hobie keeps you close, you do the exact same things together until it's time for the reset.

>349

He does this over

>356

And over

>381

Again.

>391

He stares at your blue walls, was it always blue?

Your neighbour doesn't knock anymore.

>414

He notices things looking different, your once pristine oak table now looks old.

Your white lab coat is now a slight yellow.

Your kitchen ceiling is covered in soot.

What's happening?

>449

Hobie can't help but look back at you burning a hole on the side of his head with your stares.

"What is it, love?" His voice hoarse.

"You don't look too well Hobie, are you okay?" Concern fills your voice. He pretends this is the first time you've asked him that question.

"Of course I'm okay"

Liar.

"Shut up" He blurts out.

"It's just that you haven't smiled the entire day. I'm sorry, okay, I- I'll drop it" tears prick your eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't- fuck" he rubs his tired face.

"Please tell me what's bothering you" you sniff.

You're met with silence.

"You know I love you right?" You rub his arm, comforting him.

Those three words wake him up. He remembers now, his promise to you. But it comes with a harsh realization.

"I don't think I can save you"

He tells you everything, your deaths, every violent end, every pain that could've been prevented.

Every single cycle.

You look at him, tears threatening to spill out. "You've spent a hundred lifetimes with me?"

"I'm sorry for being selfish" he hugs you tightly, your body shaking. You finally let the tears fall. "I'm so fucking sorry"

You spend a moment in his arms, contemplating your own end.

"Hobie," you reluctantly pull away, "promise me something, okay?" He nods "promise me you'll let go?"

"We-I can keep trying"

"No, you have to stop. You need to go on without me" you cup his face "Don't let me stop you from moving forward" you kiss every inch of his face to soften the blow.

"I don't think I can," his eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Yes, you can, eventually" a sob breaks out of you "eventually you will, just don't you dare ever forget that I love you so much it hurts"

You duck your head to meet his eyes "promise me in the next cycle, don't tell me anything, and you can't convince me to stay with you the entire day, okay?" You wipe his tears with your thumb "you let it happen, just like the first time"

Tears flow out of you freely. He guides you to meet his lips one last time, memorizing every second of it. "I promise. Wait for me, yeah?"

"I'll wait for you no matter how long it takes"

Your alarm rings out.

>450

Hobie's eyes open. He jumps out of bed, turning off the stove before smoke could billow out. Hobie prepares your omelette for you.

He watches you eat happily. Hobie takes a mental picture of the scene.

He lets it happen, no matter how much it hurts his soul, but he promised you, so he lets you go.

You fall.

He fights Goblin until she can't fight him anymore.

Hobie wins, but your life is forfeit. Did he even win when he can't even fulfill the promise he made hundreds of rotations ago?

He dives after your body, he knows you're already gone the second your head hits the water.

Hobie places you on the same riverbank like he has done a hundred times before.

Hobie rubs his knuckles over your heart, he says his final goodbye. "I'll see you when I get there"

He hears sirens coming towards the riverbank, you'll be okay.

He hears the familiar bell.

Hobie swings back home to your flat. His knees give out from under him. He falls on your bed with a thud, sleep hits his exhausted body.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, your telephone rings endlessly in the living room. No burning smell, no hint of strawberry in the air.

He looks at your clock- 11:00 the new date mocking him in red numbers.

Hobie did it, he broke free but now he has to live in a world where you don't exist anymore. Your promise echoes in his ears like a mantra.

A/n: I've hc'd that Hobie would definitely find out he's in a time loop by the second reset lol. Hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*the picture above is from pinterest*

[noneorother]

There's a *puppet* show going on in the magic shop, and it looks awfully familiar...

(Insert unhealthy number of rewatches here) The magic shop in S2 is a real jewel box. There's so much symbolism and so many easter eggs, it starts to make your head spin. But I found something really weird going on with the puppets (or should I say angels) in the background...

Here's 1941 : you can see on the left what looks like closed red curtains, and a coatrack with puppets behind Crowley here.

Where am I going with this? Well, don't those puppets look familiar?

For my money, they really look like silly versions of Crowley and Aziraphale, with a few other familiar puppets hiding on the other side of the rack.

Now here's that exact same shot in the present. The red curtain falls away to reveal: An extremely symmetrical arrangement of truly weird puppets. The puppet in the glass case near the back is the same.*

It probably just looks like a creepy display, with our familiar Aziraphale and Crowley puppets, until I do this:

To me at least, this arrangement really looks like a depiction of a synaxis of the hosts of bodiless powers (i.e. angels) before Jesus. If you study European art history, you can't escape medieval religious iconography. It's kind of a big deal. I've put this example of Mary flanked by the nine ranks of Angels from a Cathedral in Exeter above, but you can find 100 examples of this kind of eerily symmetrical and hierarchical ranking of angels with god, Jesus, Mary etc... Before I break it down, you have to know that in the medieval period, and especially in religious art and iconography, the relative size and position of figures is WAY more important than realism or accuracy.

Obviously the costumes don't match one to one, but you get enough of a vibe that once you start seeing it you can't UNSEE it. The relationships of position and size here are fascinating to me. For one, what the hell are two Crowleys doing in a host arrangement in present day? He's not even an angel. In the second row we have archangels Gabriel, the flopsy twins Uriel and Michael, and a slightly larger Saraqael head in the center. Is Saraqael actually more important here? Technically Jim is still an archangel, so he gets the mirror of the Gabriel position, but as a sad clown wearing a tartan blanket. We also have two tiny dolls (not puppets) with star name tags, one keeled over wearing brown, and one sitting up and smiling, wearing blue. I've named them tentatively Adam & Jesus for now, because that's the vibe I'm getting, but who knows. Here's the usual position of the Jesus in a synaxis for comparison.

In the lowest row, we bizarrely have arguably the most powerful angel, The Metatron (shown here with a dark floppy overcoat hiding the fact the doll has no body) and what I can only imagine is Maggie with blonde hair and blue eyes? What? Now, the doll I'm calling God in the middle for the large size, and the fact their head is always cut off above the framing in the shot. God is clearly looming large over the rest of the host, but is in a lower hierarchy (with Muriel, Crowley & Aziraphale being fairly low ranking at this point in the show) and also has NO HANDS, a clown face and BLOOD SMEARS on their overalls. Yikes. If you take a look at the top-down shot of the dolls, you can see how they had to completely redo the god-doll's hair. This is a specific vintage English doll called "Bimbo the clown". You can see the original hair always has a fringe, and the yarn locks are usually much bigger. Compare with the new hair in the top view of the present-day shop.

Hey. Does that hair style look familiar to anyone?

Look. I don't want to go claiming something THIS insane from one doll's hairstyle in a background shot. I'm not trying to convince you this is irrefutable proof that there's some sort of storyline where Nina is actually God. But it's interesting they took the trouble to re-make the doll's hair (and costume) to look like Nina's, even when it is almost never seen, much less noticed. The fact that the god-doll is also a clown got me thinking of the Gabriel and Jim dolls, and that maybe there's another doll in the shop that should double with Bimbo? *Here's the only other doll with a name card in the magic shop in either time, the one in the glass case :

Even though we barely see it, we can tell it's wearing the same outfit as the 1941 magician. Why? If this one is the equivalent of the real god, and not the sad clown version, and if it's locked up in a box somewhere, unable to free themselves, is that why we haven't heard from them in season 2....? So many questions. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks to @kimberleyjean and @embracing-the-ineffable for additional pictures.

[dsireland86]

A LONG HOT SUMMER

Chapter 1

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86

It was so freaking hot you swear you could fry an egg on concrete. You don't mind it, the muggy humid heat of Louisiana being something you grew up in as a kid. Your Grandparents used to live here and you and your brother would spend almost every long hot summer with them. So it was something you could handle. But this band; absolutely not. Their northern nature made them divas when it came to the heat and never, in your life, have you heard so much complaining and whining from a bunch of guys as you have in the last seventy-two hours. It was so bad you wanted to glue your earbuds in just to get a few minutes of peace and quiet. 

The only one who seemed to handle it as well as you was Folio, and that’s because he has what your granddad used to call “fisherman’s skin” ; special skin that allows them to adapt to any climate. You knew he wasn’t serious, but now that you think about it, maybe he was right. The memory makes you smile as you enter the tour bus. Nicholas is the only one here, sprawled out on the couch in only a pair of shorts. “It’s too hot, Y/N.” The corners of your mouth lift at his confession. “You’re a diva, Nick.” He chuckles. “I am when it comes to this freaking heat. I’ll take Virginia weather any day over this shit.” 

Shaking your head, you move towards the bunks, yours specifically, and dig into your duffle bag in search of a new shirt to change into. You settle for the dark green tank and quickly change, feeling refreshed once you're done. After a few sprays of your favorite body spray you turn around and walk right into Noah’s chest, throwing your hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. 

“Fucking hell, Noah! Seriously!” Playfully, you slap him in the stomach and push him out of the way. “It’s not my fault you’re blind.” Your eyes widen. “I didn’t even hear you!” “Okay, well then deaf, too.” “Eat shit, Noah.” “Fuck you, Princess.” You narrow your eyes in a scowl. You hate when Noah calls you that. “I’ve been trying too, but she won't let me,” Folio says, coming up behind you and grabbing you by the hips. He plants a quick kiss on the side of your neck, making your heart skip a beat. The idea of you and Folio together has always made your stomach flutter. He’s been your crush ever since your brother introduced you to him years ago and no other guy has ever compared to him. You thought by now you would’ve told him how you felt, but since he’s never said how he feels about you, you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. Others have told you it’s obvious how Folio feels, but you aren’t one to just assume because of how he acts. Folio has always been a fun, playful kind of guy, and reading the signs wrong would be an utter embarrassment for you.

He kisses the side of your head, and tickles your sides, making you squeal and you elbow him in the stomach. He keels over pretending to be hurt. “Y/N, baby, please,” Folio begs, falling to the floor while clutching his stomach. “Fuck, you hurt me,” he complains, trying to hid his smile. You cross your arms as you hover over him. “Sucks for you,” you tease. He sticks his bottom lip out, pretending to pout, and lowers his head. That’s when the long tattooed arms snake around you, trapping you tightly against the body they belong to, and you know you’re in trouble. “Hmmm, my little bug is caught in a trap,” Noah whispers in your ear. “Let go of me Noah, or I'll kick you where it hurts most.” Your aggressive attempt makes Noah smile and he chuckles while locking one of his legs around yours. All, if any, advantages you have on him are officially gone now. “I'd like to see you try, Princess.” You growl in frustration. “Stop calling me that! You know I hate it.” Noah laughs again. “I don’t have anything else to call you! Unless you want me to call you a pigeon, or maybe piglet.” You grunt and try to break away. “Or how about little fox or maybe little fluffy bunny? Fluffy bunny! There it is!” Growling, you slam your foot down on top of Noah’s, hoping it will make him let you go, but it does absolutely nothing except make him laugh more. 

After a few more worthless attempts to break free, you know you’re not going to win this game so you go limp, letting yourself become dead weight in Noah’s arms. “Uh, Folio, I think I broke your girl,” he says and you smile at Noah’s choice words. Folio grabs his sunglasses that fell and instantly jumps to his feet and comes to your rescue. ”You break my girl, I’ll break your face,” he asserts as Noah brings you back to your feet. You catch Folio’s reference about you and it leaves you wondering. His smile is so infectious though as it spreads across his face and you can’t help but smile back. “You're lucky today, Princess,” Noah smirks, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before letting you go. “You’re still a jerk,” you say with a grin. “You’re still a bitch,” he replies, poking you in the belly. Not everyone is lucky enough to get Noah's playful side, but you are. That says a lot. 

“Come with me,” Nick says softly in your ear, bringing you back to reality. He slides his sunglasses on and takes your hand and leads you down the steps of the bus. The hot, humid air hits you the second you step outside, making the first outside breath difficult. “Wait, hold up, where are you two going?” Matt questions. My eyes shift from Folio to Matt. “There’s something I want to show Y/N. It's not far.” Matt’s eyes bounce over the two of you then narrow. “Just for a few minutes Matt. We’ll be right back and then we can leave.” Matt smiles. “If I were you Y/N, I'd be worried if he makes it last only a few minutes.” You snicker, holding your hand over your mouth and turning away from Matt’s gaze. “Oh my god, will you quit already, we're not sleeping together,” Folio states.

Your cheeks are red and Jolly notices. “Then why is Y/N blushing like that?” Folio turns and looks at you, grinning at the sight of your very red cheeks. He knows how easily embarrassed you can get sometimes, but it’s one thing he really loves about you. It gives him a reason to get protective. Jolly is laughing, but you can’t even look him in the face. “I’m just playing Y/N.” He detects the embarrassment in you and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist as he lays a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright, can we go now,” Folio pleads with eagerness in his voice. It has you wondering what could possibly be so important.

“Fine, twenty minutes. Don’t be late or we’re leaving both your asses,” Matt forewarns us, climbing up into the bus after Jolly. You and Nick both laugh. “No you won’t, Matt. You need us too much.” You tug on Folio’s arm, and he gets the hint, leading you further away from the bus. “Don't you hurt my little sister, Folio. I will fuck you up,” Matt yells behind you. 

“Will you please slow down!” you giggle, trying your best to keep up with Nick as he pulls you through the woods, practically running. “I can’t. We only have twenty minutes; less now. I want to make sure you have enough time to enjoy it.” “Enjoy what,” huffing a laugh. He doesn't answer, so you stop suddenly, letting your hand slip out of Nick’s. A loud clap of thunder rattles the sky as he turns to you, noticing the enigmatic look in your eyes, “What?” 

You can’t see his eyes because of how dark his glasses are, but you know he’s staring at you, drinking you in like water. You don't know if it's the thunder or the sound of your heart that's so loud but when he closes the gap that separates your body from his, running his calloused fingers down your cheek and his thumb over your lips, you sigh, knowing it's definitely your heart. Fidgeting with your fingers, your knees want to buckle, but you try your hardest to keep your composure. Something is very different about the way Folio is acting around you and it should make you question his intention, but you don’t. You welcome it instead, like the thunderstorm you know is coming, with open arms.

As you gaze at him, barely able to breath, you let your eyes wander over his face, taking in the little things about him that make him so irresistible to you, stopping at his lips. Their shape is perfect, matching the rest of his facial features perfectly, but the fullness of them, how perfect the bottom one is for nipping and biting, even sucking when the intensity of the things you would let him do to you gets to be too much, makes the thin fabric beneath your shorts wet. You clench your jaw and your forehead furrows as you fight to push away the not so innocent visions plaguing your thoughts. “You must be thinking of some nice things, your cheeks are flushed,” Folio points out with a smirk. Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you grin, slightly down turning your head, and when you’ve looked back up at him, your breath hitches when you see he’s removed his sunglasses and his eyes are fixed heavily on you.

Your nerves feel like they’re on fire and your knees are undoubtedly weak now. You know you look a mess, body already moist with sweat and your hair everywhere from the humidity, even though you have it pulled up, but that doesn’t seem to bother Folio. He surprises you by taking your face between his hands and leaning in, softly kissing you and stealing your breath away. It’s a long kiss, and deep, and you can’t help but notice the way Folio’s body leans into yours and presses firmly against it. You grip his red sleeveless shirt and take a deep breath even though your lips are still pressed tightly to his. The scent of him engulfs your senses and you suddenly want him everywhere on you. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep yourself together. 

But the moment Folio slides his tongue across your bottom lip, making you whimper, you know you’re done for. You know what he wants. Slightly opening your mouth, he slides his tongue in and captures yours, pulling the moan you’ve been holding back from your lungs. He releases his warm breath over you and between his taste and the scent, the mint toothpaste he used this morning still lingers and it makes you pull him in closer to you, wanting to feel every movement of his body against yours.  

“Shit,” he breathes when you part, but don’t let go of each other. He grins, laying his forehead against yours and slips a hand behind your head, bringing you in for one more soft kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His confession surprises you and you wonder if there's a chance that he might tell you how he feels about you. Catching the twinkle in his eyes before it fades, you give Nick your best smile. He clenches his teeth together, making that tight jaw line of his appear, the one that gives you some of the best dreams of making out with him and possibly going even further, play through your mind like your favorite movie.  “You want to tell me what you're thinking, baby, or do I have to guess?” Your panties are soaked now. If it wasn't for you still being in Nick's arms, you'd be on the ground. “You’re trembling.” “Ha, I wonder why.”

A small smile finds its way into the corner of his mouth. “Do I make you tremble?” His brown eyes widen, but his expression is serious as he drags his finger down the side of your arm to the front of your stomach, resting right above the waistband of your shorts. You slowly nod in response to his question earning you another smirk before he lowers his face to your neck and drags his tongue lightly over your skin, taking a small bit of it into his mouth. The feeling of him sucking on you excites you, making your muscles tighten and the fire in your abdomen grow. You moan as you squeeze his shirt tightly in your hands again, letting the heat of the moment rip through your body. “Your skin tastes so good,” he tells you when he brings his head up to face you. “I wonder if the other parts of you taste just as good.” You feel the heart spread across your cheeks, causing Folio to chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you retort with a smug smile. “I would, Baby.”

You grin, bringing your fingers to his lips and tracing with the tips of your fingers. You can feel that familiar tingle building up in the bottom of your stomach, the one that always comes when you think about Folio; the one that makes you squeeze your thighs together. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, biting it to keep from kissing him again, and Nick notices.   “Come on,” his alluring brown eyes taking your breath captive as his hand takes yours again. “Where almost there.” 

You come to a clearing and hear the sound of flowing water before you can even see the river that's just up ahead. But that's not what makes you stop and hold still. It's what's in the center of the clearing that takes your breath away. Before you, a few feet away, are two trees intertwined with what appears to be a heart formed in the middle, made from the bending of their long branches and green leaves. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and it literally has you holding your breath. Bringing your hands to your mouth, you stare at it in amazement, moving closer while paying no mind to another clap of thunder, leaving Nick behind.

“I had to show you before we left. I found it yesterday when I was looking for the river.” You are utterly speechless, not just because of the trees, but also because Nick has made it a point to show you this, admitting that two trees forming a heart reminds him of you. You know this means something big, coming from Nick. He's not one to throw thoughts and feelings around or out to just anybody. You turn to look at him only to find he's already staring at you. The look in his eyes makes your heart skip.  “Judging by the look on your face I'm assuming you like it?” “I love it,” you croak, because speaking is proving to be difficult at the moment. Folio laughs “I knew you would.” Tears slip from your eyes and slide down your cheeks and you're suddenly super embarrassed that you're crying. “Hey come here, Doll,” he pleads, taking you into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck while he slides his around your waist, his hands finding their way to your bottom and squeezing it.

His strong tug into him is just enough for you to know he’s serious about what he’s wanting; you feeling just how hard he is for you beneath his black shorts. The thought makes you forget you have knees at all and you can't help but give in to his demand. It’s an insatiable feeling, the hard thickness of his length pressed entirely against your sex. You feel him twitch, as if knocking upon your entrance,  leaving you wanting more. Folio grunts and stagers a bit, almost losing balance, but gives you his sweet lopsided grin with narrowed eyes, taking a quick look at his watch. “We still have about ten minutes.” You want to believe he's serious, but you don't want to assume. Instead you laugh and continue to play his game. “You really want our first time together to last less than ten minutes out in the middle of the woods in broad daylight? Not to mention there’s an impending storm coming.”

Folio looks up at the dark cloud-covered sky just as deep thunder rolls again. He laughs, shoulders bouncing to prove just how funny it is to him and you shove your hands deep into his back pockets, pushing yourself into him. “Fuck, Y/N, if you do that again, you're gonna leave me with no other choice.” He peers down at you, suddenly staring as if you're his next meal, and every nerve in your body is instantly on fire. You didn't mean anything by it. You're just playing the flirty game with him. But you're so nervous you feel light-headed so you quickly remove your hands from his pockets.  “Hey hold up now, I didn't say you had to take your hands away,” playfully reaching for them to shove them back in his pockets. You giggle followed by a loud squeal as Nick picks you up and spins you, putting you back down after your three persistent pleas.

“I want our first time together to be someplace special. Someplace where we can be loud as fuck and no one will hear or care about what we're doing.” His expression is serious, but you know he's really not; is he? “Wow, okay, tell me how you really feel,” you say, shocked by his bluntness. “Okay, you really want to know how I really feel?” His question is more of dare than anything, but you play along anyway. “Sure, lay it on me Folio,” you tease. Leaning up against the side of a tree, Folio stands there staring at you for a minute. “I'm in love with you Y/N. I dream about you, I think about you constantly. I can’t stop. But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to.” 

Folio drops his gaze, his soft brown eyes covered by the rim of his Harley ball cap. You know he's nervous. You know he's never been this bold with a girl before. But you're so shocked by his confession that you have no idea what to do. Your forehead creases and your mouth goes dry as you try to think of something to say, but fail. Is Nick being for real? When he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel that he is being serious, and that softens your heart. Not acknowledging him would be mean and you have no intention of hurting him. So, you make the first move. 

“Do you want there to be a first time between us, Nick?” His hesitation scares you a little despite what he just told you. Finally, he looks up at you with a small smile hiding in the corner of his lips and you swear his eyes are glistening. “I want a first, a second, a third… a million times… however many times you want until you get sick of me.” You let out a shaky laugh, floored that this is actually happening. “I don't think that's possible,” shaking your head at him. “Mmm… yeah it's pretty possible.”  There's a quiet moment between you. “Come here,” Folio calls to you with a quick flick of his head, and you do. He brings his hand to your neck, gently sliding his calloused fingers down your soft, delicate skin, causing shivers to ripple throughout your whole body. You want those hands everywhere on you now and you're not ashamed to admit it now that you know how he feels about you. “What if I bring my ski mask, you know the one,”

“Yes,” you say, trying to hide your excitement. You've had plenty of daydreams about him and the mask. “I’m quite aware of it, but isn’t that more Noah’s thing than yours?” Folio removes his ball cap and pushes his hair back. He looks so good to you right now as you picture him coming at you with said ski mask. If he was wearing it right now with the same look in his eyes you’d be willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your skin heats up and you can feel it creeping over your cheeks as your heart pounds against your chest and you can feel damp fabric between your legs as you squeeze your thighs together. Folio notices. “Thinking about it aren’t you, Doll,” he questions, licking his lips. His warm breath on your neck as he leans in to taste your skin leaves you breathless. “Thinking about you and me together, and what it would feel like having me inside you? What it would feel like getting fucked by me with just a ski mask on.”

Folio’s hands that are back on your hips dig their fingertips into your skin and your muscles tighten beneath his touch as you try to keep yourself up before your knees completely buckle. “Alright, that’s enough Nick,” you say with a shaky breath, reluctantly pushing his hands away. “You know I want to, right?” he asks in a somber tone. “I do. So do I,” hoping he can see the seriousness on your face. “I want you too.” He smiles and you release the tight breath you’ve been holding. “I want it to be on your terms, not mine.” His face softens and the tension goes away, and you melt into the sweetness you now see. “Thank you,” you whisper. He pulls you in for a deep kiss and you feel a rush of relief being in his arms this way. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.” You didn’t realize how much sexual tension was really between the two of you. “Well, you're the one who brought it up,” reminding you with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you're the one who started it,” lightly shoving him away from you. “Mmm, technically your brother did.”

He taps the end of your nose as you think of a comeback. You have none. “Okay, fair point.” Folio smiles at you while taking a deep breath. “Let's head back, before Matt really does kill us both.” You agree and turn to leave, but stop instantly. “Wait, take my picture,” you say, handing Folio your phone. Grinning, he takes your hand. “I have a better idea,” as he leads you over to the trees. The thunder rolls again, and you start to feel the sprinkles of rain that are quickly turning into droplets. Wrapping his arm around you so that you're snug in the crook of his shoulder, Nick says your name and you look up at him. His lips land on yours and you fall into his kiss as you hear the snap of the camera go off, signaling he took the picture. “Hey! Nick!” Folio grins and takes off running through the pouring rain with you quickly in tow. 

After one more show in Louisiana, one in Mississippi, two in Florida, and two in Texas, the heat and humidity has all of you done for. You’re ready to go home. There is more work to be done once you get there, back to L.A., but a much needed break is first. Matt already has his entire month off planned, Noah too. Bryan will be knee deep in photos and rug making, Nicholas is flying home to Virginia, Jolly wants to sleep, but Folio has yet to mention anything. He’ll probably whisk away quietly on his bike for a long ride or a fishing trip, where you’ll be left to miss him like an insane person. But that’s okay. Everyone could use time apart.   

You yawn and pull the hood further down to cover your eyes. The merch hoodie you’re wearing is actually Noah's and you confiscated it without him knowing. But you know he doesn’t mind. Settling deeper into the couch and in the hoodie, you feel a looming presence over you, and you have a good idea of who it is. “Up,” Folio orders, tapping your legs. You obey, laying them back down on his lap once he sits down. “Are you alive under there?” “Barely,” you mumble. Your arms are crossed over your chest and the hood completely covers your face. “Alright,” Folio chuckles. “Well, are you listening?” You sigh. “Depends on what you’re saying.” You feel a warm hand slip under the hoodie first and then your shirt, sliding across the skin of your belly while making its way further up, filling your entire body up with goosebumps. “How about now; listening now?” You shake your head while smiling, but you know Folio can’t see it.

The hand moves from right below your breasts, further south to right above the waistband of your leggings, stopping as if to think, but then continuing down overtop the fabric and over your heated sex that’s throbbing with lust from Folio’s teasing. Instantly, you sit up and pull the hood off, meeting with Folio’s face mere inches from you. “How about now,” he says with that adorable smile. You shake your head once more, the familiar tingling engulfing you between your legs, begging for one more touch from Nick’s fingers. He grins, leans in and kisses you, while sliding a finger between your covered folds, feeling you squirm and wiggle beneath him. Just his touch alone is sending you quickly to the edge. “Mmm… I want to feel more of that from you,” Nick says, once he sits back. “You're such a tease, you know that?” You shake your head and grin, sitting back without the hood this time. “So, really, are you listening?” You smile big, and shake your head again, watching Folio’s eyes grow dark and wide. You know what he wants and you’re playing his tightened strings so well, that they are about to snap. “I’m kidding, yes, I’m listening,” you say, attempting to pull him away from the ledge.

You prop your head on your fist, staring at the man before you who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice you staring at him. Folio is beautiful, with all the perfect little things that make him so irresistibly hot at the same time. From the earring in his left ear, to the hoop in his nose, the large tattoo on his neck and the massive one on his chest. From his sweet disposition, to affectionate, caring heart, Nick was everything you wanted; physically and inwardly. He always made you feel safe and you knew at this moment you didn't want or need anything else. Folio was enough. “I know what I want to do once we're home,” he says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You grin seeing him so excited about whatever it is he’s about to show you. “I found this really cool fishing spot up in Washington called Trout Lake Cozy Cabins. Apparently they have some of the best trout fishing there. I wanna take the bike and go.” Your heart falls at the thought of him leaving, especially so soon after getting home, but you’re not about to rain on his parade.

“That sounds like a great time,” trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. “Good, because you’re coming with me.” Your eyes dart up to Nick’s and you see him grinning. “You’re serious,” you say more as an affirmation than a question. “Yeah I’m serious. We need to get away together if we’re going to give this thing between us a shot.” “This thing?” Your eyes narrow and you sit up, scooting closer to Folio’s legs. “Yeah, this thing,” he confirms, licking his lips, looking you up and down as you move closer. “And what is this thing,” you whisper over his lips. Your eyes drop from his to his lips and you’re restraining everything in you to not reach out and grab him, pull him into you, and devour every part of his sweet face that’s got you going mad for him. “Mmmmm, it’s a really great thing,” he answers, his entire body still, but his breath is shaky. “And there’s an us?” Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if he can hear it. “I’d really, really like for there to be an us,” he whispers as your hand grazes over his hard length that’s very obvious to your eyes at the moment.   

“If you two seriously don’t quit, I’m throwing you out,” Matt barks as he walks by. You can hear the laughter hiding behind your brother’s tone and know there isn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice. But still, you and Folio back off each other, allowing some breathing room. “So, you want to go here,” you say once you’ve taken a look at the place he’s pulled up on his phone. It’s very beautiful. It’s rural, quiet, and private; it’s the perfect place for you two. “I've already booked “The Pines” cabin for us.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “How far is it?” “Does it matter?” “It does if I’m going to be stuck with your ass, alone.” Folio pretends to be hurt. “I know you’re joking.” “Oh, but am I Folio?” You narrow your eyes and give him a smirk. You watch as his face grows a little anxious. You burst out laughing, earning you a ton of tickles to which your squeals turn into small screams. “It’s eight hundred and thirty-seven miles,” Nick finally tells you. “Whew, that’s a lot of miles. How many hours?” “Twelve and a half by the time we stop for gas and rest.” 

“Wow… that’s a long time alone with you on a bike. I’m not sure I can do that Nick.” You try to keep your face as serious as you can and it works. Nick’s head falls and you know you’ve made him feel terrible. “Oh my gosh, I’m kidding,” you scootch into his lap and wrap him around you as much as possible. “I’m so kidding,” you say again, placing soft kisses all over him. Folio raises his head to look at you and now you’re the one who feels terrible. “You really have to stop fucking with my head like that. My feelings too; I’m sensitive.” The baby face he’s giving you makes you fold into him and bury yourself there. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest.” “It’s fine. I’ll just make you pay for it later.” You freeze at the sudden change in Folio’s voice, sitting up and staring at him. “Seriously?” “Am I?” The mischievous glint in his eyes is too much and you bite your lip, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much. “Come with me and find out?” Folio smiles at you. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out once we get home.” Getting up, you head towards the bathroom, pleased with yourself. “Seriously, Y/N!” “Yup, seriously, Folio,” chuckling at yourself because you already know the answer.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[isawken]

clown eggs!

everyone loves ‘em. most notably, i, some random dumbass, have one. but where do they come from? if you say the clowns lay the eggs i'll fucking cut you this is a history lesson. be serious about clowns for once in your life

clowns international is the oldest operating clown organization. it was founded by a dude named Stan Bult allll the way back in the 1940s. this man was not a clown. he was a chemist. i wish i knew more about him but it's been impossible to get anything more than blurbs, all relating to eggs. i don’t even know what sort of chemistry he did! but he grew up with and liked clowns a lot. so he got an organization together- originally called the International Circus Clowns Club. one thing about our boy Stan is he had an almost cartoonishly-niche hobby: he liked painting hollowed out chicken eggs with the faces of some of the great clowns that preceded his clownpatriots. see some of the below Bult originals:

it didn’t take long for his practice to become enmeshed with the organization. like seriously what self-respecting clown wouldn’t appreciate the absurdity of such a practice. Stan started painting the faces of the org’s contemporary members, both for their own enjoyment and to keep a record of their membership far more interesting than a bunch of dusty ol files. over the next few decades and up until his death in 1966, my man Stan painted over 450 eggs! boy, my cloaca’s sore just thinking about it!

the egg-painting practice died with him. but it wouldn’t stay dead. 20 years after his death the organization, now called Clowns International, was under new management, and they knew the importance of the history they had. they hired a new egg-specific artist and offered (now ceramic) painted eggs to all of their members, for a small fee along with their standard membership fee. for a slightly more expensive fee you can get two eggs- one for the registry, and one to keep in your home for all to see and be very confused by, depending on how much your visitors know about your personal life.

now, i’ve seen some very dramatic statements made about the registry. and i would like to dispel them. no, the organization does not litigate their eggs. there is no Clown Lawyer who keeps tabs on every existing egg and every incoming egg and mediates disputes about suspiciously similar-looking face paint between clowns. you won’t get Clown Sued if your submitted face looks kinda like another’s. the record has only ever been utilized as just that, a record, so if any sort of interpersonal dispute between clowns arose they could rely on their egg’s existence/history to defend themselves against accusations of theft, or vice versa. sorry to disappoint you freaks out there who want clowns to be jerks but it’s just not like that.

clowns international is not the only organization that does an egg registry, but it is the org that started it all, so theirs often come with a level of provenance. and for those of you who have followed me for a while you know what time it is, yeah that’s right, it’s time to PLUG MY OWN EGG AGAIN YEAH THAT’S RIGHT LOOK AT MY EGG

i promise i'll take new pictures of it soon

if you don’t know me and for some reason want to know more about me and my dearest egg i’ve got two posts about it. honestly extremely humble of me considering how up my own ass i am about this life achievement of mine

anyways, even with the societal downswing vis a vis the overarching cultural opinion on clowns, the organization is still going, and still making eggs. and i for one hope the practice never dies out, and that more specific organizations adopt similar practices. like can you imagine a woodworking guild that makes little wooden statuettes of all their members? the clowns are tastemakers and it's time we realize that.

and that’s the short of Clown Egg History! clown’s don’t lay eggs they are humans and they have very human history that is so so interesting and worth spreading and if i see anyone tag this as clown husbandry i cannot stress enough i will go scorched earth on your ass! if you have any questions on this or other clown-related stuff my inbox is always open and i love to spread the good word of Clown. also i’m sorry but i have a podcast to plug:

fully-clown-centric episodes are in the works and i am planning to have them release before the end of the year but until then please check out what i do have if ur interested in fool-related history! i don’t make any money off this i just really want to share the knowledge about fools across history i have learned because i’m insane and care a great deal about it :o)

[another-whump-sideblog]

Fixing Tracy Chapter 16: Cursed Knowledge

TWs in the tags

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Molly keeps her promise, and Tracy finds that the achiness and other symptoms have faded a lot by the next day. At least she won’t have to feel like that ever again.

What would it be like, if your priority was your own health and happiness?

Molly’s words keep intruding into her thoughts, which is especially weird because Tracy already knows the answer. She would be a different person if she prioritized herself. So why does the question loop in her mind?

It doesn’t matter. She needs to escape, to get back to Alicia. But… when she had a chance to escape, she failed. She doesn't even know why!

She takes a deep breath. That train of thought goes nowhere. Just… think about it logically. Stop being stupid and think of it like a puzzle to be solved instead of a potentially hopeless situation.

Okay, the main obstacle in the way of escape right now is that she can’t hurt Molly. Since she doesn’t know why she can't hurt Molly, the logical next step towards escape is to figure out the reason, right?

How does one figure out why they couldn’t do something, though? She knows she was interrupted by a memory that made her lose focus, but she doesn’t know why that happened. It’s not like being violent is so out of the ordinary for her. She’s always been able to do what she had to do, so why can’t she now?

“…hey.” Molly pulls Tracy from her thoughts and sets down a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "Um.. how are you feeling?"

"Better. Uh… thank you. For not keeping me like that. And for breakfast." She's not really grateful, of course, but keeping Molly happy certainly can't hurt anything.

Molly sits down. "So… do you want to talk about why you're so sure you can't get sick?"

"I don't get sick."

"...Most people do get sick sometimes, though, right?"

She's waiting for Tracy to answer, so Tracy gives a quick nod. It would feel like Molly's talking to her like she's a toddler if she didn't know that Molly always talks like this.

"So why are you different?"

"I don't know why, I just know that I don't get sick."

"But how do you know that? If it was just that you've never been sick before, why would you be so sure that you can't get sick now or in the future?"

Tracy eats some of her eggs. "I just know."

Tracy knows she's being frustrating, causing the conversation to go in circles, but Molly doesn't seem annoyed. "While you were… feeling not so great, you said that you weren't sick because you're not weak or pathetic. Do you feel like people who get sick are weak and pathetic?"

"...I guess."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? If you're sick you're obviously weaker than normal, and you need people to take care of you."

"And… that's pathetic?"

"Yeah? Y'know, you're not my therapist, you're my kidnapper. I don't want to play whatever game this is."

"You seem frustrated."

"I am! Can you let me eat in peace?" 

"Of course. I'm sorry." Molly starts eating her own breakfast.

They eat in silence for a bit, allowing Tracy to go back to her predicament. How does one figure out why they couldn't do something?

The options can be broken down into two potential answers: it was either something about trying to give someone a concussion, or something about Molly specifically.

The first seems more likely. She's never given anyone a concussion before, and it's a bigger deal than slapping someone or pulling their hair. It's… only human that she hesitated. It's only human that she thought back to how it felt when it was being done to her.

So, how can she fix being human? How can she make hurting someone seriously feel the same as slapping someone or pulling their hair?

"What're you thinking about?" Molly asks.

"Just enjoying my food." She eats the last bite of her breakfast.

Molly takes Tracy's now empty plate and stacks it on top of her own. "I'll go wash these. After that… Do you wanna play chess?"

"...sure. I'll set it up while you're doing that."

Molly grins widely and goes into the kitchen.

Tracy finds a chess board with the other board games, puts it on the table, and sets up the pieces. She can multitask, it shouldn't be too hard to play chess while figuring out how to turn off the part of her that cares about causing someone brain damage.

Molly finishes with the dishes quickly and sits down across from Tracy. "Do you want white or black?"

"How good are you at chess?"

Molly laughs. "We've played chess together before, when I was your therapist. Do you remember at all?"

Tracy shakes her head. She really doesn't remember anything from those sessions.

"How about we just do rock, paper, scissors for who plays white. Does that sound good?"

Tracy nods. Molly plays rock and Tracy plays scissors, so Molly ends up with the first move.

Tracy has to remind herself not to get too engrossed in the game, no matter how much she enjoys chess. She still needs to be focused on escape. How can she fix the part of her that hesitated at hurting Molly?

If she can just fix that, she can retry what she did last time. Grab some handcuffs from the backpack, catch Molly by surprise, hit her head hard enough to disorient her, take the cattle prods, restrain her, take the keys, and escape. 

Molly will probably be anticipating her trying something like that, so she'll be on guard. She's already started taking the backpack with her when she goes to the bathroom, which she didn't do before the incident. Tracy could've tried that strategy long before Molly accidentally left the restraints when she went upstairs… but it would've failed, because she hasn't fixed the part of her that hesitated.

"You've always had such an aggressive playstyle." Molly once again interrupts her thoughts. "I'm more like Alicia, I prefer to focus on defense."

Tracy's stomach drops. Molly may have played with Tracy before, but she's never played against Alicia. “How do you know that?”

Molly winces. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Is there any answer to your question that could make you happy?”

“No, but not answering it doesn’t make me happy either!” Tracy tries to keep her breathing under control.

“I think… you’re happier now than you would be if you knew.”

“That’s not fair. Why do you get to decide that? Why can’t you just listen to me? I want to know! I hate not knowing, I hate looking back on private memories and wondering if you were somehow there! I hate wondering if Alicia is safe from you or if you're watching everything she does!" She sweeps the pieces off the chess board and lets them clatter to the ground. It doesn't make her less angry.

“...I'll tell you if you can calm down, dear."

"That's not fair!" 

Life isn't fair. Calm the fuck down.

"You stalked me and won't even tell me how and I'm supposed to not be upset about that?? Why is everyone allowed to get angry but me!? Why are you allowed to kidnap me and shock me with cattle prods and restrain me, but me getting upset is too far?? Tell me, now, or– or–"

What can she threaten? She's completely powerless, even over her own emotions. Now that she's opened the floodgates, she finds herself sobbing uncontrollably. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you–"

"C'mon, just take some deep breaths. In… and out… In… and out…"

Tracy abruptly stands up, sending her chair flying, and flees to her room. She locks the door behind her despite knowing that Molly must have a way in and starts throwing things. The spinny chair, books from the bookcase, clothes, pillows, anything she can find.

All she achieves is tiring herself out. She screams until her throat is hoarse, but Molly doesn't even knock on her door or try to talk to her. She punches her mattress until her arms are sore, and still, nothing happens. Her rage is meaningless. She's not even going to get punished, much less listened to. No one cares. No one cares at all.

She cries until she's emptied herself out. That should be calm enough for Molly, right? She takes some deep breaths, unlocks the door, and exits her room. "I'm calm now. Tell me."

Molly is sitting on the couch, staring at Tracy. "I… I had a lot of things. It was a lot of hacking, mostly. Um…" she takes a shaky breath. "You're going to be upset."

"Yeah. Did you not know that when you did it?"

"I… I don't know…" She closes her eyes. "The cameras. The cameras that your parents set up in your house, I watched through those."

Tracy feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. She thought she was too exhausted and numb to feel anything, but she was wrong. She's not even sure what she's feeling, but it's definitely something besides exhaustion and numbness.

It was violating enough to have her parents watching. It never even occurred to her that the footage could be being watched by someone else. What if Molly wasn't the only one? God, Molly probably didn't even have to do anything but guess the password a couple of times! Tracy wouldn't be surprised if the password was 'password' or one of their birthdays.

"So… Alicia…"

"There aren't cameras in her foster parents' house," Molly confirms. "I follow her foster parents' social media, and I can access Alicia's email, but… that's it."

Tracy doesn't remotely believe that that's all, but she does believe that there isn't a way for her to watch Alicia anymore. "If I asked you to unfollow them and log out of Alicia's email, would you do it?"

"...yes. But it would mean I wouldn't be able to tell you how Alicia is doing, would you be okay with that?"

"Of course I'm fucking okay with that!" Tracy snaps. "I already asked you to leave her alone, but I guess you don't care about my wishes as much as you pretend you do." She's proud that her voice is able to sound cold despite the fire raging inside her.

"...I thought that as long as I didn't contact her–"

"Let me make it clear, then. I don't want you to have anything to do with her. I don't want you to surveil her in any way. I want you to be completely clueless about what's going on in her life."

"Okay. I'll do that. I'm so sorry, Tracy."

Tracy doesn't dignify that with a response. She locks herself back in her room. She doesn't think Molly will actually stop stalking Alicia, but… there's a chance. That'll have to be enough for now.

There is another small comfort– the cameras were only meant to make sure she and Alicia followed the rules when their parents weren't home, and her parents turned them off when they were able to keep an eye on her and Alicia in person. If Molly's main source of information was the cameras, she didn't see the worst of it. She didn't see Tracy at her most vulnerable. She tries to remind herself of that, but it doesn't make her feel any less violated.

Maybe Molly was right. There was no answer that could've made her happy, so she shouldn't have asked.

tag list: @whumpyourdamnpears @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @iamheretohurt

[avocado-writing]

hey! first off, i love your writing so much.

secondly, i’d love to see an aziraphale x reader x crowley fic where the reader has some mental health issues (specifically like anxiety and depression) and they’re going through a really rough time at the moment (maybe they’re just in a really bad headspace or their meds aren’t working so they’re struggling really bad) and they just get support and comfort from aziracrow. (i’m ngl this is kind of a self indulgent ask bc i’m personally going through some bad mental health stuff rn -100/10 i do not recommend). anyways, there’s no rush at all i’m just a sucker for hurt/comfort and fluff.

hope you have an amazing day!

notes: finally getting around to clearing out my requests, sorry this took so long - I was sort of avoiding it for a while because I wasn’t in a great space either. I hope you’re doing better x

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley (could be read as platonic)

cw: depression/seasonal affective disorder

rating: T

It’s difficult. 

Some days it feels like the fog won’t lift. The dark months, they always get you and it’s awful - you just want to sleep for a long time and not wake up until you know it will be better. You need to get your meds adjusted, really, but the idea of going outside and dealing with people is just a little bit sickening. 

You can’t. You just can’t. 

The lethargy that can only be brought on with melancholia plagues your every waking moment. You know that you’d forget to take care of yourself if it wasn’t for the two of them. 

God knows they’re wonderful. 

Every morning you wake up to a check-in text from Crowley, gently encouraging you to shower because they’ll be over soon. You find the effort to drag yourself to the bathroom and stand under the powerful jet for long enough that you start to zone out, only leaving the enclosure of water and steam when you hear the two of them walk into your flat. 

You never gave them the key. They manage to get in anyway. 

They bring breakfast - well, Aziraphale brings breakfast, and he eats it with you to make sure that you eat at all. That can be something that you forget. Crowley watches you over the rim of his coffee cup until he’s certain you’ve had an adequate amount, and then a miracle takes care of the washing up. 

Then they’re around you for as much or as little as you want them to be, but never more than a phone call away. 

One day you find yourself crying into your fried eggs, and the two of them look aghast. In a flash they’re by your side, holding you, a hand running up and down your back in comfort. 

“My dear, what’s the matter?” Aziraphale asks, and you can hear him snap his jaw shut quickly because well, the depression is the matter. It’s so ridiculous you end up laughing through your sobs. 

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m being silly,” you manage, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “I just… you’re so wonderful to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“None of that,” Crowley chastises you, gently, “‘course you ‘deserve it’.”

“It isn’t a burden to look after someone you care about, darling,” Aziraphale adds. 

And you can’t bring yourself to say anything more, so you just let yourself be held very tightly. 

tags: @angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound@a-mediocore-writer@darktealrat @chaospossum @belilwen @rex-ray @hunterispunk

[snickerdoodlles]

i was tagged by @shubaka for this game *checks watch* a whole ass year ago... but i answered the questions before i realized that, so… here u go...

How many works do you have on AO3? 142 + 43 in my anon collection.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 435,617

What fandoms do you write for? been the most consistent with kinnporsche lately, but i've also been returning to finish uncompleted works for bad buddy, yuri!!! on ice, kimetsu no yaiba, and even been eyeing some old old fics for jariel.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? gone fishing(/idiots & idioms series in general), let there be, Rolling With the Beat, come what may, and Sucker

Do you respond to comments? trying to! i feel so bad it takes me forever to respond, i've just been feeling overwhelmed by it for so long. but i will respond to everyone eventually, even the ones that are years old.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uhh. probably lost lives don't return? what counts as angstiest

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? …same problem, what counts as happiest?? eh, i'm just gonna say Silver for Truth because god was i thrilled to finish that one.

Do you get hate on fics? i know i have in the past but i've long since deleted and forgotten them, so i really don't give a shit.

Do you write smut? lol yeah

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? i dooo i love doing mash-ups of my favorite stories, i love figuring out how to make two very different stories blend together or how to adapt the vibes and genre of one to another. i haven't posted anything for my craziest mash-ups tho. probably the most bananas one is the silly thoughts i had for the kp x chrestomanci fic i'm not writing, which was supposed to just be an AU but crossover thoughts snuck in. i think my favorite one tho is a truly terribly written one buried in my writing folder from when i was 15 and mashing up my two favorite hyperfixations of the time: percy jackson x doctor who, featuring rose tyler as sally jackson and after all of time and space and parallel worlds, she is simply just not impressed with what mythology tries to throw at her and percy.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of. i have had ideas/parts lifted without credit tho :(

Have you ever had a fic translated? yes! Allexandrit has very kindly translated several idiots & idioms fics and some of my bad buddy fics to russian, and Ch_a_i has translated gone fishing and laid eggs to vietnamese

Have you ever co-written a fic before? the silly yes-anding of drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart with shubaka <3<3. i also really like doing story collections/series where friends and i build up a shared universe or setting and then we do our own pieces/fics/etc within that one central theme, and the degree of how much we co-write and collab varies quite a bit.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i am literally dusting off 10yr old wips rn, nothing is finished until i say it's finished.

What are your writing strengths? characterization! not really in a "character feels like canon" sort of way because that's something only readers can decide for themselves, but i think i write interesting people who feel fleshed out and fun to read pretty well.

What are your writing weaknesses? writing consistently :( i haven't figured out how to work around depression blocks yet, so what i write or even writing in general is very much subjected to my moods and my whims.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? ??? odd question. personal tastes, if i wanted to read a language i don't know, i'd go stare at a dictionary in russian or something. as a reader, i just skip past anything that's more than a word or specific phrase/idiom. the way i approach writing dialogue in another language is a lot more nuanced but ehh, i'll spare u the rambles.

First fandom you wrote for? naruto. i wrote it to make a dick joke, probably because i didn't have any social media at the time.

Favorite fic you’ve written? ……..this question is bullying. hmm, well, i reread Roadside Assistance pretty recently because i absolutely love how thirsty paa is in it and wanna write more stuff like that, so we'll say that one.

uhhh let's tag u back shirley, since it's been a yEAR hjgjhf, but also @dimplesandfierceeyes, @faillen, @thisisevenharderthannamingablog, @onceabluemoonwrites and @kumeko and anyone else who'd like to do this <3