#fellow travelers brainrot

[headroom-moods]

When you realize it, Tim was never the other woman— it always has been Lucy.

[livelovelaughlin]

In case you missed it: In the end of the finale episode when Hawk and his daughter are at the national AIDS memorial, the fish symbol on Tim’s quilt square is made of Hawks undershirt. I am emotional!!!!!

[jackharkness]

Tellin' myself it's the last time Can you spare any mercy that you might find If I'm down on my knees again?

FELLOW TRAVELERS + ‘Daylight’ by David Kushner

[calltocupid]

hawkins fuller x tim laughlin / a house in nebraska — ethel cain

[arbor-tristis]

Good evening one more day gone and it's always "what do you want?" "Milk." "Did you memorize my entry" "I'll spend the afternoon picturing you kneeling in prayer" "Hello Tim Laughlin" "This is I" "Thanks for everything you're wonderful" "mortal or venial?" "Is this okay" "fold. Them." "Who's my boy?" "I am!" "That was good Skippy" "who's Skippy" "take me with you" "your boy wants to go to the party" "how much does he want to go" "well well" "does he want to talk to the kennedys and the grahams with the taste if me in his mouth? I suppose I could lend you a top coat" "More" "are you going to marry Lucy Smith" "You're the coward, not me!" "I'd like to come up to your room and hold you tonight" "the door doesn't lock"

[skippyhawk]

yes, I absolutely agree about Tim and Hawk's dynamic being kind of flipped in the 60s (and I think it's part of why it's my favorite episode so far). Even though Tim is in a sense dependent on Hawk because Hawk is giving him a place to hide while being on the run, he's the one who is guarded/with his walls up/pushing Hawk away (with good reason), and even though Hawk still can't verbalize his feelings (I cannot get the look on his face in response to "why do you care? about any of this?" OUT OF MY HEAD), to me he seems more emotionally open about his feelings for Tim in 1968 than we've ever seen him be thus far, and he's the one trying to reach out for Tim (emotionally *and* physically more than once) even if he doesn't know how to fix everything.

I also find Hawk's determination to fix everything for Tim and keep him out of jail to be fascinating given that we and Tim knew him as a fixer in the 1950s (which he acknowledged), and he wants so badly to fix this for Tim, and yet the episode ends with him watching with pain in his eyes as Tim turns himself in (and then, even more interestingly, using Tim's words from seminary to try and fix his relationship with Jackson by creating a moment of connection and comfort).

Thank you for indulging me with these asks, I love hearing your thoughts and if you don't mind my rambling I'll probably send more as we wait for the last 2 eps ahhh

it was definitely one of my favorites as demonstrated by that fever-induced unusually poetic defensive textpost i dropped straight after... i even had a brief discussion about it with some of my irls and my sister lmao

anyways yes, firstly on the dynamic flips. i do think there’s more to come on that. it seems like these shifting roles they seem to take on in each other’s lives (“carer”, savior, etcetc) will be a reoccurring theme post-50s.

secondly, to me a lot of hawk’s actions in the sixth episode seem slightly panicked (understatement of the century) because he’s truly trying to hold on to tim but it’s not working this time, which in turn literally has him agitated; he wants tim to stay. not only because the threat of prison is very real, especially to him and his wellbeing, but because he doesn’t want to let tim go again. despite this he, as per, hides behind his words and simultaneously leaves the most crucial things unsaid. i believe hawk’s a very “show, don’t tell” type of person. except he usually tends to avoid the showing part as well. (lol)

his franctic behavior seemingly begins with worrying about what might happen if tim does get sent to prison but it leaks through very quickly how he’s actually particularly shaken by tim’s resistance. in all honesty i think he’s been so used to having that certain control over him, most likely finding comfort in knowing that if he wants tim to stay, he will. there’s probably some primal freakout happening inside his head there lol. he does also seem visibly worried about how deep into his faith and denying himself tim has sunk again.

thirdly, i think hawk actually seems at his most vulnerable in the ’80s. i think the reality of tim being ill and possibility of him simply not being around anymore truly shook something deep inside him and spurred some kind of overgrown shrouded gears inside his head into action. to me it seems he’s having some pretty fucking heavy realizations but it’s also obvious after decades he’s finally prioritizing this huge part of himself and the truths, good and bad, that come with it. with finally letting himself just be you can tell how he’s immediately opening himself up more to tim too, sharing his thoughts instead of shoving them down, being there when it matters most. a perfect example of this is him walking into tim’s apartment and within minutes practically stating that actually, he’s not afraid of the disease– he’s afraid of losing him.

in my opinion hawk telling tim he’s “not sure of anything anymore” is truly a pivotal moment in his life. there’s a certain sense of beginning there. something has changed everything and nothing will be the same again.

it’s also why despite the bitterness, tragedy and supposed finality of it all ’80s tim and hawk are already so dear to me personally.

obviously i’m still positively petrified just imagining where they might go with the story next but i certainly hope you and obviously anyone else that’s willing will have thoughts to share or discussions to spark as the final episodes roll out...!

[feelingpure]

6, 23 and 24 for the ft ask game 🥰

6. What is your favourite parallel/reference in the show?

Aww, there seems to be so many little ones. Of course the promising not to write one is in everyone's memory after the finale. And I love all the ones you listed in your answer too! ❤️

I'm gonna go ahead a choose a cute one rn, and go with Tim and his need to trace the scar on Hawk's back. We need a compilation of all those moments tbh. And ofc Hawk got the scar in the army, which Tim then joins to get over him... 🥺 And in episode 5 when they're ripping our hearts out on that rooftop and Hawk says “I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier”, then episode 8's callback “The Army made a man out of my Skippy”. 😏 but also 😭!

23. If you were to recommend this show to your straight friends/family, how would you do it?

I already have, they won't listen to me. 😭 One person was around when I was about to watch episode 6 and decided to watch it with me. This person also has an irrational fear of needles... and if you remember how that episode starts 😬. Yeah they quickly noped out lol, ffs.

Someone else who I spoke to about it seemed interested, then did a google search and the first thing that came up at the time was the foot scene from episode 1 lmao, so that scared them cause they're icked out by feet. Again I say; ffs!

24. Bonus question: if you were a character in Fellow Travelers, who would you be and why?

I think I said Mary when I got 24 before, an alternative might be one of Hawk's fire island pals. Cause they seemed to just be living their best life, and I wanna go to the 70s disco so bad!

FT ask game

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[bloodweep]

Pleaseeeeee write more Floyd omg I'm so in love with the way you write <3333

AHH thank you, he’s so bb I love him so so much ,,,

This is been my little brainrot for a bit all day yesterday:

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Mistletoe ࿐ྂ

Floyd never felt so giddy like he did today, well, perhaps not as much as he felt when he was reunited with his brothers but it was close. His cheeks burned a soft purple constantly since he’s been up, the flush sometimes adventuring to his ears and down his neck, he was sure his chest was covered too but he would like to pretend no one could see. Or maybe people did see and didn’t care to point it out as many were doing the same thing.

He held the present close to his chest, his ears wiggling and flattening out as he buried his small snout into it, inhaling the scent softly as his tail wagged behind himself. He felt overwhelmed, not sure how to go about anything and inhaling the soft cinnamon scent of the wrapping and bow he used did help ground him. With a soft sigh he lifted his head back up, fixed his furred collar of his jacket vest around his neck - in attempt to cover the blush traveling down rather than the cold, his brothers never were really affected by it like the other fellow pop trolls.

However his feet didn’t move still, he felt planted in place, it was just exchanging gifts right? There wasn’t anything too difficult with it? But to him, it meant and felt so much more to him, like it was so much more special to give this gift to you. He’s used to giving gifts to others all the time, but he couldn’t help but feel a little dejected if you didn’t like it.

He was taken out of his internal stupor when you called out to him, your hands waving in the air as you jumped up and down. He smiled, his teeth coming over his lower lip to show off his teeth, his tiny little fangs digging into the flesh slightly. “Floyd!” You called, making a few flinch and look at you with how loud you were, but you didn’t care as you bounded over to him. He couldn’t help but giggle a little; you were completely bundled up, a cute little hat over your hair that made it spill around your face and neck, some cute ear muffs on top of it - he could feel his own ears melting off with his warm yours must be - you had this cutest little scarf around your neck, the tails fluttering in the wind as you ran over to him, a thick fur jacket that was buttoned and zipped all the way up, thick pants and topped off thick furred boots. The only thing missing was the mittens, he would be dying of heat stroke if he wore all that. Compared to him, it seems you were about to travel to the Antarctic.

“Hello,” he called out, his arms opening up to invite you in for a hug, knowing it was going to happen anyways, the present clutched tightly in his left hand, without hesitation you bounded into his arms. Your feet planted on his hips as you forced him to bend backwards as you hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly so you wouldn’t force them to fall backwards on the snowy ground and you wouldn’t fell off of him.

“Oh I missed you!” You exclaimed hugging around his neck tightly and rubbing your cheeks together lazily. “It’s been since yesterday,” he murmured out, sighing in content at the closeness even if the extra warmth from the fur was making him heat up a bit more. “I missed you more,” he admitted before gently setting you down on the ground before looking you over. “Aren’t you hot?” He laughed his head tightly slightly. You shook your head, “oh gosh no; I’m so cold,” you giggled rubbing your hands together. “I can’t find my mittens and my hands are so so cold I feel like they are going to freeze off,” you whined out.

You paused looking over Floyd in shock; only seeing his furry vest jacket, even more appalled to see he was still wearing his belt and shorts and no shoes. Your mouth was basically through the ground at this point. “Oh my god!” You nearly screeched your hands coming up to grip his face, nails skimming his ears and making him shudder. You moved his head around examining him, your eyes so wide. “How are you not cold?” You asked waiting for a response.

Floyd shook his head gently, “I am not, my brothers and I can withstand the cold better,” he replied nearly breathless, he wasn’t used to you being this concerned for him and being in his face like this. “Well screw you,” you laughed out shaking your head. “Oh!” You replied giving him whiplash as you looked at his hand to the present. “Who is that for?” You asked his head tilting lazily, a soft smile on your lips, which was different compared to your teasing one.

He stuttered a little before bringing it to you; “it’s.. for you” he replied softly his eyes downcast to the ground afraid to see your reaction. You paused before gently grabbing it, “you didn’t have to,” you whispered. You tore into the paper before sniffing softly “cinnamon?” You questioned.

“The scent reminds me of you,” he whispered his ears turning a deep purple now. You blushed lightly at them before going back to your present. Once the paper was off you opened the box and gasping. What laid there was a beautiful handmade mittens, hat, jacket, boots, with a little note on top with Floyd’s elegant handwritten with a heart. You grasped the note and opened it with one hand.

‘For you, my dear, I hope these bring you all the warm and comfort while the weather continues to try to dwindle your brightness

- Love

Floyd’

Another box inside the box caught your eye too before you could get all sentimental about the card, but you did put the card into your pocket and patted it softly. You set the box of new clothes down before grabbing that one with box hands and gently opening it. In that box was a beautiful necklace, coated in sapphire and diamonds with a beautiful elegant rose quartz that hung on a chain so it could rest over your heart. Tears coated your face now as you lifting it up out of the box, letting the box drop as you held the necklace to your chest. Floyd look at you worriedly grasping your face in his hands so gently to look you over.

“Oh please don’t cry, do you not like it?” He asked worriedly chewing his lower lip after but you shook your head. “Oh Floyd I love it,” you sniffled pushing your hand up between his hand and your cheek to push the necklace in his palm. “Put it on me please,” you breathed out. He let out a shaky exhale before nodding, moving closer so his nose brushed yours and gently began to clasp it asking your neck. “I found the gems and made it myself,” he murmured. This brought more tears down your cheeks, you never had someone do this for you.

Once he was done with the clasp he brought his hand down to place the rose quartz over your heart and leaving his hand there. You looked him in the eyes before looking up trying to content your emotions.

“Oh Floyd look,” you whispered pointing up to the branches above. “A mistletoe,” you beamed, grasping his ears and pulling him in, you pressed your lips softly to his, your ears closing. He responded back so quickly, his hands sliding down to your waist and holding you tightly and swaying.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” you whispered into the kiss making him beam. He gently picked you off of the ground and spun around slowly. He didn’t even know why he was nervous about you accepting his gifts.

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

He’s so soft it makes me heart warm

[bailey41]

I will always remember these yet unfulfilled tags from an esteemed fellow traveler early in our collective Wolfwren brainrot. But as one of the great poets of longing once said, "distance avails not, and place avails not." They'll have a bedroll or something soft. Or not.

[lovebunnie]

just know that even if all my friends leave fellow travelers brainrot behind. i will always and forever be wiling to discuss its intricacies. even if i stray from its light the visions will never leave me

[headroom-moods]

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works

The brainrot has been brainrotting.

[eliyah-de-dark]

A theory for all my fellows Hatchetfield residents:

Trail to Oregon is the first show to involve Hatchetfield.

When they're traveling (and hopelessly lost), the family end up in Michigan for a little bit. There Dad dies, sees Blinklotep, comes back to life, and they continue on their way.

Alternatively, they never made it to Oregon and ended up settling in Michigan and are the first pioneers to set up shop in Hatchetfield.

It's silly Starkid brainrot

[silverstonesainz-archive]

favorite fics & other good things ↳ my guilty pleasure reads, social media edits, & favorite people

wanted to compile a list of all my favorite reads, in case yall needed something new to look at. (but also if you follow me, you probably follow all my favs and see all their works anyways). this also a cute little post to show appreciation to my fellow writers/creators on here bc...... it's kind of rough out here and i just wanna give a little love. making this also made me realize i read fics from the same rotation of people so if you have fic recs, do send them my way! but without further ado, here we go!

+ long fics

the devil in disguise by @ricc3rodeo [daniel ricciardo x fem!oc] this can't come as shock to yall. if you haven't read this series then you need to RIGHT now. q is a true & honest to god wench for this series but i love it so much. and i love sam so much. and i love HER so much

moonlight by @vamossainz55 [carlos sainz x fem!reader] another great carlos fic & im not just saying that bc i love niks. the plot is CHEF'S KISS so pls read it is 10/10. (note: the link is to the latest chapter, not a masterlist!)

dogs of war by @schuvries [charles leclerc x fem!reader] spirit is by far one of my favorite writers and people on this hellsite. she has such a way with words and i wanna be here when i grow up. read any and all her works you will never be disappointed.

august rush by @harley-sunday [carlos sainz x fem!reader] the softness, the domesticity, the friends to lovers. so fucking good. easily my favorite fics on this sight.

+ one-shots

to live a lifetime with you by @formulabear [charles leclerc x fem!reader] i remember reading this and feeling every ounce of emotion from it. so good. if you haven't read this then you need to right freaking NOW.

listen up / my dear by @oyesmendes [daniel ricciardo x fem!reader] this one made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. gotta love me some danny ric!!!

though i have to travel far, remember me by schuvries [daniel ricciardo x gn!reader] spirit absolutely tore me apart with this one. ripped me to shreds. so fucking good.

said something stupid, instead of 'i love you.' by @absolutelynotmate [charles leclerc x fem!reader] 27k words of delectable writing. take a seat, drink some coffee, & enjoy the ride of emotions this fic brings

brought me here by @leclsrc [carlos sainz x fem!reader] auds is the only person who can make me cry over oranges. this makes me so ill (but in the best way) and makes me fall for carlos even more.

has yet to pass by leclsrc [carlos sainz x fem!reader] the angsty?? the slow burn?? the ending. you have to read it. HAVE TO.

the 1 by @lxclerc [daniel ricciardo x fem!reader] i think of this fic often. this also tore me to shred in the best way. lex is also one of the best writes yall should read her entire masterlist actually.

+ blurbs

snowflakes by absolutelynotmate [carlos sainz] wanna be in the snow with carlos :(

carousel by absolutelynotmate [carlos sainz] i also want to have his baby

overly sincere by leclsrc [charles leclerc] auds is sick for this one

yellow? by schuvries [carlos sainz] the idea of carlos calling me his "hielo" makes me rabid

frosting by @diorleclerc [carlos sainz / 18+] this... this makes me feral. i want this.

13:44 by formulabear [carlos sainz] the softness of this makes me want to swallow my pillow. i want this man so bad

mick + choking by @whorekneecentral [mick schumacher / 18+] this isn't a blurb so much as it is a brainrot post but it is important to me i include this on the list. i want mick so so so so bad.

+ social media aus

tiktoked / sneaky by leclsrc [carlos sainz] my guilty pleasure au. fuck this is my dream. actually auds got the texts from my phone(real)

a bet is a bet by absolutelynotmate [charles leclerc] this. chef's kiss. the work put into these aus. fuck my wife is PHENOMENAL.

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter 1

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav

Synopsis: Seraphina has spent the last 2 years trying to wield her wild magic as life keeps trying to knock her down. After being infected on the nautiloid, she's been presented with her biggest problem and greatest adventure so far. Through the trials of trying to save herself and the city she calls home, she makes new friends, falls in love, and begins to finally understand what it means to trust in luck and her lady Tymora. Already posted this to ao3 and I'm re-learning Tumblr after years away, so it's time to put this here! Notes: It's my first time publishing my writing on the internet in almost a decade, but the BG3 brainrot is real and has demanded it.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Includes dialogue directly from BG3. ______________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: Friendly Competition

The gentle hum of the river. The quiet crackling of the nearby fire. The subtle rustling of the leaves as the wind gently blew.

Seraphina leaned into the ambiance around her in camp as she kneeled in the sand on the riverbank and did her nightly prayer to Tymora, her Lady Luck pendant clutched tightly between her hands. Her faith in Tymora had, admittedly, started to waver in the last few years, but the latest state-of-affairs that Seraphina had been thrust into truly made her feel as if the entire foundation that she had been raised on was crumbling.

Just three tendays ago, Seraphina had set out from her parents’ home in Baldur’s Gate for yet another contract with plenty of blessings and well wishes from her family — in fact, an overabundance of them since the last time she left home, she ended up in Avernus. A tenday ago, she had stopped in the city of Yartar for supplies when the nautiloid appeared above the city and began abducting people off of the streets. Now, every plan she had for her life had seemingly evaporated with the death sentence of a mind flayer tadpole in her skull. Her magic and her goddess couldn’t save her, or perhaps Tymora refused to intervene.

The tiefling wanted more than anything to turn tail and run back to the warmth of her family while she still had time left. But that wasn’t what a Hellwhisper was supposed to do. None of her siblings had ever abandoned one of their adventures, no matter how perilous it became.

But none of them had ever encountered a mind flayer or been infected with a tadpole, Seraphina thought bitterly.

Seraphina wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation she had found herself in, much less of the people who had, for better or worse, become her traveling companions: the gith, the fellow tiefling who had fought on the frontlines of the Blood War, the mysterious cleric, the righteous warlock, the flirtatious pale elf that had recently revealed he was actually a vampire, and the gods damned egoistical wizard of all people.

Seraphina had encountered her fair share of wizards on her adventures and wasn’t a huge fan of them. They all thought they were better than Seraphina, a natural-born sorcerer. Gale honestly didn’t seem too different as he carefully and pointedly distinguished himself from Seraphina when it came to conversations about magic around camp. She had to fully bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him when he made a remark about her wild magic after fighting the goblins at the gate of the Emerald Grove, when mid-battle a wild magic surge enlarged everyone around Seraphina.

They have no idea who I used to be, Seraphina thought as she closed her eyes for longer, clasped her hands tighter, and prayed harder. My Lady Tymora, this trial has to be over now, surely? Have I not shown my perseverance and dedication in the face of the most bizarre odds and chances? Is this wild magic truly the best way to serve you, even now with a tadpole in my head?

Selfishly, a new reason she wanted her old magic back was to prove herself to Gale. Unfortunately, he had taken up a lot of her headspace since their first meeting.

“Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” The newly appeared man shook Seraphina’s hand as she looked, befuddled, from him to the portal in the rock that she had just pulled him from.

“Apologies, I’m usually better at this,” Gale scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“At introductions?” Seraphina joked, brushing dirt from her robes that had appeared after she and Gale fell to the ground.

“At magic,” He smiled. She felt her heart skip a beat.  

“Well, I’m Seraphina…of Baldur’s Gate. Pleasure to meet you, Gale of Waterdeep,” She awkwardly replied. If she was telling the truth, she felt every usually charismatic bone in her body turn to mush as she took in the tall, handsome man standing in front of her. And she could feel the very essence of magic flowing around him? What a catch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came a voice from behind Seraphina. She whipped her head around and saw Gale approaching with two quarterstaffs in hand.

“I was just finishing up,” she smiled.

“Praying for Tymora to send an overdue stroke of good luck our way, I hope,” Gale grinned.

“Fortune favors the bold, Gale. Lady Luck will help us find this Halsin and return him to his Grove, curing our tadpoles along the way. She’s never failed me before,” Seraphina replied as she rose to her feet and walked over to him, putting her Tymoran necklace back around her neck.

“Have you followed Tymora your whole life?” Gale asked.

“Yes. As my sisters and brothers did before me, as did my parents, grandparents, and their parents before them. We were all raised in the same temple to service Our Smiling Lady,” Seraphina said excitedly. “But I imagine you’re not here to listen to me babble on about my goddess. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I could listen to you talk for hours, Seraphina, but yes, there was something,” Gale replied, blissfully unaware that he was making Seraphina blush furiously with such a simple statement. “With your natural gift of magic and less of a talent for a blade, I was hoping that you might be in the mood to help me with a small task,” Gale grinned.

“And what would that be?”

“Would you be amenable to a little friendly sparring to cap off our night?”

Seraphina laughed. “I would be, but I’ll have you know my weapon of preference is a glaive.” She thought sadly of her favorite glaive that had slipped from her holster as she sprinted to try and escape the tentacles of the nautiloid. It had been a gift from someone she would rather forget, so maybe it wasn’t too much of a loss.

Gale turned and led Seraphina closer to an empty patch of land near the campfire.

“I will have to keep my eyes peeled for a glaive then, my dear sorcerer,” Gale continued. Seraphina felt her face grow hot and she tried to ignore it as he handed her one of the quarterstaffs.

Seraphina braced herself firmly on her feet, the quarterstaff diagonal to her body, and carefully lowered herself into a defensive stance. “Give me all you’ve got,” she curved her hands, beckoning him.

Gale started with a swing directly at Seraphina’s legs, which Seraphina smoothly dodged, dragging her feet along the dirt in a simple arch. She immediately retraced that arch and, with a thwack, hit Gale on the back before spinning and resuming her defensive stance a few feet behind him.

“I said ‘give me all you’ve got,’ wizard,” Seraphina teased. Gale winced as he stood and turned to face her. “I take it you don’t have too much combat experience?”

Gale chuckled. “Wizards have towers for a reason,” he replied, carefully dodging a direct answer as well as a swing from Seraphina. “I assume this isn’t your first perilous adventure?”

“Far from it. I’ve used magic and a blade or two to fight pirates,”

Gale swung and Seraphina blocked with her quarterstaff, immediately pushing back and swinging at his ankles. He jumped over it.

“Hags,” Seraphina curved her body in a crescent shape to avoid his next attack.

Seraphina swung upwards, knocking Gale’s staff out of his hands, and placing the butt of the staff against his chest. “And I was fighting for my life in Avernus not too long before the nautiloid,” Seraphina finished.

She was crouching down and looking up at him. They were both breathing heavily, having already been exhausted from today’s events of defeating the Harpies at the Grove. Gale looked down at her and Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat as she took in his features, illuminated by the campfire. The gray hairs that blended in almost seamlessly with his long, thick brown hair. The orange of the fire made his brown eyes look like they were blazing.

With Gale’s slightly lifted eyebrows and intense gaze, she could detect a swirl of emotions in his eyes. Admiration. A little fear?

“You like to live dangerously,” Gale said breathlessly.

“High risk, high reward,” Seraphina laughed.

She felt a singular bead of sweat drip down her neck and chest, disappearing behind the laces of her nightshirt, and she watched as Gale’s eyes followed it. Seraphina suddenly felt like her entire body was itching as she shifted. Gale’s eyes snapped up to meet hers and he instantly flushed , taking a step back and ending the moment that truthfully only lasted mere seconds. She turned, picked up his staff, and thrust it into his hands.

“Again. I want you to knock me down or disarm me before we finish,” She smirked.

It took 30 minutes and several tries, but as Seraphina’s eyelids grew heavier, finally, Gale did it. With a firm sweep to the back of her calves, she tumbled to the dirt and, as she fell, Gale knocked the staff from her hands. He mimicked her earlier movements, pressing the end of his staff against her chest.

“Mragreshem,” She playfully cursed at him as he chuckled.

“Mission accomplished,” Gale proudly smirked. Seraphina nodded, panting. He reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and as he helped her up, she swayed backward.

Gale’s hand pressed against her lower back to steady her, and she leaned forward, Seraphina’s hands landing on his chest. With how close he was, she inhaled his intoxicating scent of parchment, books, and sandalwood. Her eyes caught his and he smiled at her when, suddenly, the markings on his chest, neck, and face began to glow a dull purple.

Just as quickly as he caught her, he stepped away, still smiling, but he looked like he was in pain, his eyes squinting as if he was holding back a wince. The glowing ceased. Seraphina’s eyes widened as she realized there was something magical in Gale’s chest.

“Gale, are you alright?” Seraphina stepped forward, a hand outstretched and Gale subtly leaned away.  

“Perfectly fine. I believe I have kept both of us from sleep quite long enough. Thank you for helping me get a little bit sharper in my staff handling,” He smiled.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Gale,” She returned his smile. Gale nodded curtly and Seraphina could’ve sworn he nearly ran into his tent. She was no stranger to rendering people speechless, but Gale seemed positively terrified of her.

She stood there for a moment, processing before she turned to head to her own tent.

What if he’s not usually attracted to tieflings? Does he act nice with me and the other tieflings at the Emerald Grove just to turn around and call us foulbloods behind our back? Seraphina thought.

As she was about to enter her tent, she noticed Astarion out of the corner of her eye. He waved her over and Seraphina crossed the camp to stand before him.

“I thought the wizard might keep you occupied all night. You know, I’ve been thinking about you.” Astarion grinned. “And that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Seraphina felt her stomach flip. She had butterflies around Astarion, and she couldn’t quite tell if it was exclusively because of his flirtatious way of speaking, or the fact that he reminded her of someone she shouldn’t still allow to be occupying her thoughts.

“The moment you bit me?” She asked.

Astarion nodded. “The very same. I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told?” He broke their eye contact and fiddled with his fingers. He took a deep breath. “You were my first.”

“What an esteemed honor. I hope my blood was satisfying,” She smiled.

“You were delectable. And now I just can’t help but wonder how the others taste.”

Seraphina dramatically gasped and clutched at her heart. “You’re looking at other necks? I’m hurt,” She pouted.

Astarion, for how prickly he was at first, was truly quite silly beneath it all. It only endeared Seraphina more.

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites,” Astarion smoothly replied. The way that he looked at her from under his lashes made her feel like lightning was coursing just underneath her skin. As she held his gaze, Astarion’s eyes began to shift from their beautiful crimson to the bright blue ones that haunted her dreams. She blinked a few times to push the image away.

“In the spirit of theoretical questions - if you had to take a bite from one of our companions, who would it be?” Astarion mused.

 “Ah, I love pondering hypotheticals with you in the dead of night,” Seraphina laughed, recalling when he asked how she would like to be killed. “Gale, no question.”

“A refined palate, but such an underwhelming answer coming from you, darling,”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I took you for someone who likes to take risks, live dangerously.”

“Would Lae’zel have been a more acceptable answer? Or you?”

Astarion smirked at her. “Darling, don’t expose all your lustful desires at once. Let’s try to leave room for a little suspense,” he winked.

Seraphina grinned wickedly. She hadn’t had fun like this in so long.

“Silly me. The buildup is the best part,” she whispered flirtatiously.

“If you think the buildup is the best, wait until you experience the conclusion I have in mind,” Astarion quipped. “But it’s late. I’d better go find something I can sink my teeth into. Sweet dreams,” Astarion brushed the back of his hand down Seraphina’s arm as he turned and headed into the woods.

“Good hunting!” She called out after him.

Sleep came easy. She knew that she couldn’t allow herself to develop feelings for anyone or get attached, not with the tadpole threatening all of their lives.

But wasn’t that all the more reason to have a little fun?

[latelyanobsession]

Whole Obsession

summary this newfound obsession was sparked by complete accident, but now that the cat's out of the bag, there's no stopping it.

warnings smut, pwp, no plot, m receiving, oral, rimming, teasing, fingering, hole play, shameless needy needy boy

word count 869

note brainrot that's been rotting for a while and i wanted you to share it with me. this fic will be gender-neutral and only feature x reader pronouns of "you/your" as the fic is centered on billy and will have no major descriptors of the reader's body. have fun my fellow gremlins. 😌 maybe i should make this part 1 and then make a part 2????

"More.... more," he groaned through heavy pants, hips rolling in time with each bob of your head. He was making it difficult with every reflexive thrust shoving his cock deeper down your throat until you gagged and choked.

This wasn't working for you as you pulled off for the third time to cough and breathe.

"Don't stop," Billy pouted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. "I can't breathe genius," you complained with a hand on your throat. He smirked, falling back against the mattress, "Not my fault," he mused.

"You gonna finish me or what?" Billy asked impatiently, a knee crooking upward. You huffed, crossing and then uncrossing your arms over your chest. You were anything but a quitter. He licked his lips with a pleased smile, hips wiggling to meet you as you stretched back out along the mattress.

Determined not to tap out this time, you wrapped a hand around his base in a tight grip making him tilt his head back with a groan. Spit-slicking his cock you worked him back to full attention. "God just like that!" he hummed appreciatively as his legs splayed open for you.

You swallowed him down, your hand following your lips in rhythm. Up down, up down. "Fuck baby...!" he drawled, a loose hand wandering over your head. "More. Ughhh. More!" You spared a glance up at him. He was already lost in it, more wouldn't make much difference, but you didn't want to disappoint. Didn't want him to leave with that smug-ass look on his face.

Licking a flat stripe up his length, you pulled away, thumb rubbing in pressured circles against the hardened member as you traced your way down with your other free hand. With wet popping kisses your mouth traveled from his inner thigh to his taint, moving up to nuzzle the soft runched skin of his sac. His hips bucked as you licked and suckled him, your lips wrapping around one ball, tongue gently pulling him in. Billy was gone, quickly growing limp and pliant under your grasp as you backed off with a wet pop, treating its twin to the same.

Thoroughly wet, you plucked at his sensitive skin, small gasps falling from his open lips. His voice was going hoarse, cracking from strain and use.

You wanted to wring every single noise possible from his lungs as you pinned his cock flat to his torso with your palm, lifting him so you could taste him further. Licking down his sac you hooked your tongue, gliding it along his underside, a great bodily shudder rewarding you.

"More... 'm so close," he whined, thighs clenching.

You couldn't help but smile, as you dragged your tongue down his midline, pulling back and spitting only to smear it across his taint. He whined loudly, hips rutting helplessly against your hand.

Obliging him, you wrapped your occupying hand around his cock. The crown was covered in precum, which you generously used. Slowly gliding your thumb back and forth across his slit.

Your tongue was graduating lower, swiping and wagging further with each breath. Billy was shaking as his hips strained forward to accommodate you, his spine curling.

"Wanna stop?" you asked. "More," he panted as he pulled his legs up against his sides.

His hole was tight, just looking at it made you ache and throb. Reaching out, you lightly pressed a thumb to it in greeting. Billy responded in a low, broken moan that made your spine tingle. Retracting your hand, you lowered yourself back down and placed chaste kisses on each of his ass cheeks. In a broad-reaching swipe, you placed your first lick.

"Fuuuuuuck," he droned, his toes curling. Pulling back, you watched his hole clench and flex from your touch. It was making you hungry for him.

Abandoning your grasp on his cock, you spread him, your index finger lightly prodding his puckered hole. "Ooooh, oh!" Billy whimpered, adjusting to grab his dick and take your place. Dipping your tongue, you lapped at his hole. Delving deep with each thrust of your tongue, you pried him open, the taught muscle throbbing on your tastebuds.

"–m gonna cum!" he warned, voice breaking. But you didn't care as you maintained your pace and opened his hole. Wetting him down, you slipped a finger inside, gently setting up a pace as you kept lapping him up, loudly squelching and smacking your lips against his damp skin.

"Fuck, I'ma –!" he cut off, as his body seized up beneath you, his hips faltering as his hand pumped his swollen cock to completion. Thick spurts of cum shot from his dick as he whined, his hips struggling in your grasp. Your tongue riding him through the crescendo.

"Ah! Ah, aaaahhhh! Too much! T'much!" He whimpered, as you slowed your pace, slowly backing your finger out of his hole. As you licked him one final time, he let out a droning cry before letting his legs down. His chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

"More?" you asked with a smirk, climbing up to face him. He opened one eye to peer at you but said nothing. Instead, he rolled into your arms and closed his eyes.