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najia-cooks · 7 months

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[ID: A plate of light brown bumpy flatbread with blackened spots, surrounded by za'tar and green olives. End ID]

خبز طابون / Khobz taboon (Palestinian flatbread)

Khobz taboon ("taboon bread") is a soft, chewy Palestinian flatbread. It may be eaten with olive oil and za'tar, but it is best known as the base of مسخن (musakhkhan), where it is topped with spiced aromatics and perhaps chicken.

Khobz taboon gets its name from the vessel it is traditionally cooked in—an outdoor, shallow conical oven with an opening at the top and a clay or metal cover to trap heat. Taboons may also have an opening at the side through which the fire can be stoked, especially in the east of Palestine. These ovens were historically made from a mixture of local clay and hay, but have more recently also been constructed from clay treated to be sturdier, or from metal.

A taboon is used by packing flammable material, such as hay, fabric, animal dung, wood, and charcoal, around the outside of the oven and letting it burn overnight; the fire transfers thermal energy to the clay, and to the river stones, sand, glass, or flint stones (صوان, "ṣawwān") that form the base of the oven. The ash is then brushed away, and the flattened dough is placed on the stones or stuck to the walls of the oven to cook. The clay and stones will continue to release thermal energy and cook things throughout the day. The clay and ash give a distinctive flavor to anything cooked inside the taboon, making this method a source of nostalgia for many people who have transitioned to cooking in indoor ovens.

Khobz taboon was traditionally made with whole wheat flour. Most people today use a blend of around two parts white flour to one part whole wheat, or else all white flour; they may even add milk or milk powder to ensure a very soft dough. This recipe uses a blend of flours to combine the nutty flavor of whole wheat dough with the pliancy of white dough. It also begins with an optional pre-ferment to mimic the traditional Palestinian method of including a piece of dough from the previous day's bread into each new batch (like a pâte fermentée) giving a rich and slightly sour flavor to the final bread. It calls for the use of rocks to imitate the bottom of a taboon; the rocks give the khobz its distinctive dimpled texture, and ensure that no interior pocket forms in the bread.

In the years following 2007, the siege Israel had imposed on Gaza caused a shortage of cooking gas that led to a resurgence in the use of taboons. The ovens were used to bake bread and to grill sweet potatoes during the time of their winter harvest. Meanwhile, in the West Bank, Israeli military forces repeatedly destroyed taboon ovens and assaulted villagers who tried to defend them, as Israeli settlers from nearby villages complained about the smoke that the ovens produced. Some of these ovens had been used to bake bread for entire families of 40 or more people. Palestinians continue to build, use, and defend these ovens, despite the fact that Israeli law de facto forbids Palestinians in the West Bank to build anything.

Today, Israel is deliberately targeting and destroying bakeries in refugee camps that had been supplying bread to tens of thousands of people in Gaza, continuing a long campaign of starvation of the Palestinian people.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; and donating to Palestine Action's bail fund.

Equipment:

A large, shallow mixing bowl, like a Moroccan qus'a

A large (12"), shallow clay cooking vessel, such as the bottom of a Moroccan tajine (one that is rated for very high temperatures), or a large baking tray

Assorted smooth river rocks of varying sizes, from 1 to 3" in diameter.

Make sure that your rocks have been thoroughly cleaned, and that they do not contain any fissures, cracks, or veins that could contain water (this water, once heated in the oven, could cause the rocks to crack open). Instead of river rocks, I used lava rocks designed for use in a clay tanoor. You just need something to provide thermal mass and give a bumpy texture.

Ingredients:

Makes 3 large breads.

For the pre-ferment:

140g whole wheat flour

1/2 tsp active dry yeast

140g water

You may also use a pâte fermentée that you already have (just adjust the ratio of white to whole wheat flour added later accordingly), or a sourdough starter. The hydration of the starter doesn't matter, since you will be adding water by eye later.

For the bread:

330g bread flour or all-purpose flour

30g whole wheat flour

5g salt

Water

If you skipped the pâte fermentée step, add 170g (rather than 30g) of wheat flour at this stage, as well as 1/2 Tbsp of active dry yeast. I have not tested the recipe this way.

Instructions:

For the pâte fermentée:

1. Mix flour and yeast in a small mixing bowl. Add water and stir to combine. Cover and leave out at room temperature for a day, or in the refrigerator for up to three days. At the end of the rising time, it should be about one and a half times its original size.

For the bread:

This recipe makes a high hydration dough that will need techniques such as slapping and folding to knead effectively.

1. Mix flours and salt in a very large, shallow mixing bowl. Add your pâte fermentée and mix to combine.

2. Add water until the flour comes together into a soft, sticky dough and continue keading. Have a bowl of water on your workstation. Every time the dough starts to stick to your hands or the sides of the bowl, wet your hands and rinse down the side of the bowl with some water. This will gradually add water to the dough.

3. You will notice the dough growing smoother and laxer. At this point, start kneading by repeatedly folding the edges of the dough in towards the center. Do this by occasionally wetting your hands, then running a hand along the side of the bowl and under the edge of the dough to unstick it from the bowl; then fold. You will get stuck less often if you try to touch the dough as lightly and briefly as possible. Every few folds, dimple the surface of the dough all over with your fingertips. You will have been kneading for about 10 minutes at this point.

The dough should become more smooth and less bumpy—you will notice it holding its shape and becoming more stretchy as gluten forms. It should form into a ball when you fold the corners in and hold its shape for a minute, but then gradually expand to take the shape of the bowl. I added about 2 1/2 cups of water total (in dry conditions) during steps 2 and 3.

4. At this point, the dough is wet enough that the slap and fold method is the best way to knead. Wet your hands and again unstick the dough from the sides of the bowl. Hook your hands under the dough and quickly pull it all up into the air; fold the hanging bottom part of the dough under, and plop the dough back down, folding it on top of the part you plopped down earlier. Give the bowl a quarter turn and repeat. Do this continually for another few minutes.

5. When the dough is very smooth and lax, smear some olive oil on the sides of the bowl and under the dough, and pat some oil on top.

6. Cover the bowl and bulk ferment the dough at room temperature for 8 hours, or for 16-24 hours in the fridge. At the end of the rising time, you should see bubbles beginning to form on the surface of the dough.

To shape and bake:

1. Place a layer of rocks at the bottom of a clay cooking vessel or baking sheet. Put the sheet in the top third of the oven and preheat your oven to 550 °F (290 °C), or as hot as it will go.

2. Meanwhile, fold the edges of the risen dough over into the middle a few more times with damp hands. Pinch off a large piece of dough (about the size of two fists), and fold the sides over into the middle to make a neat packet.

3. Drop the packet of dough onto a heavily floured surface, and flip to flour both sides. Pat the dough flat, then throw it back and forth between your hands, catching the edge each time as you spin it through the air, like a pizza crust, to stretch it into a circle about 1/4" (1/2cm) thick with a diameter of about 10" (25cm).

You may also stretch and pat the dough out on a flat surface.

4. Remove the tray from the oven. Flip the dough circle over the back of your hand to transfer it and lay it down over the hot rocks. Re-stretch it into a circle, if necessary.

5. Place the tray back in the oven and cook for 5-7 minutes, until the top of the bread has golden brown spots. Repeat with each piece of dough, leaving the rocks in the oven for a few minutes between each one to allow them to come back up to temperature.

6. (Optional): Hold each flatbread directly over a gas flame for a minute or two to blacken a few spots and mimic the flavor that a wood-fired oven would give to your khobz.

You may also use a method similar to the dhungar technique to smoke your bread. Place each piece of bread one at a time into a large vessel with a closely fitting lid, alongside a small bowl. Light a piece of wood on fire and drop it into the bowl; then cover the vessel with the lid as you allow the wood to smoke for a minute or two.

#note that I do not recommend this recipe to anyone who is not experienced with making bread #I'll have another Palestinian flatbread recipe up soon which will be more beginner-friendly #Palestinian #bread #khobz #flatbread

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elryuse · 24 days

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I hope you're down for more yandere contents........

how about yanderes Sohyun and Hyeju as tomboys who got love struck on a fan and their wolf instinct starts kicking in

STUCK WITH U

YANDERE TOMBOY SOHYUN & HYEJU X MALE READER

The fluorescent lights of the fan meeting venue buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scene. But for Sohyun and Hyeju, the air crackled with a dark energy. Their gazes, usually sharp and playful onstage, were narrowed in on a single target – Y/n, a young fan with nervous excitement shimmering in his eyes. His smile, shy yet eager, sent shivers down their spines in a way that no deafening fan chant ever could.

He was different. A possessive growl vibrated deep within Sohyun's chest. This wasn't just another fan. This was theirs.

"See all those annoying fangirls crowding him, Hyeju?" Sohyun hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Can't they see he's ours?"

Hyeju, a feral glint in her eyes, cracked her knuckles with a satisfying pop. "Don't worry, Jagi," she replied, her voice a sultry rasp. "We'll thin the herd."

With practiced smiles and a sprinkle of manufactured aegyo, they weaved through the line of fans, subtly steering the girls towards the exit. Fabricated stories of exclusive after-parties and VIP meet-and-greets tumbled from their lips, their voices laced with a sweetness that masked the steel beneath. The crowd dwindled, leaving Y/n standing awkwardly, a confused smile plastered on his face. Perfect. This was their moment.

Sohyun and Hyeju exchanged a glance, their playful tomboy personas dissolving into a chilling facade. With synchronized steps, they flanked him, their bodies brushing against his, sending a jolt of electricity sparking between them. Y/n, barely taller than their shoulders, stumbled back, wide-eyed.

"Hey, Y/n," Sohyun purred, her voice dripping with a possessive sweetness. "Looks like you're all alone with your favorite idols now." Her hand snaked around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips, impossibly soft and warm, descended on his in a searing kiss. It wasn't the gentle peck he'd fantasized about, but a demanding claim, a hungry exploration. He tasted cherry lip gloss and something wilder beneath, a possessiveness that both terrified and thrilled him.

Hyeju, ever the firecracker, wasn't to be outdone. She nipped at Y/n's ear, her voice a husky whisper. "Don't worry, little guy," she breathed, her touch sending shivers down his young skin. Her hand trailed down his chest, igniting a fire where it landed. "We saved the best part of the fan meeting just for you."

Before Y/n could stammer a response, Sohyun pulled back, her lips glistening with his kiss. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief onstage, held a dangerous glint now. "Let's get out of here," she said, her voice a husky murmur. Grabbing Y/n's hand, she led him towards a back exit, Hyeju trailing close behind, her hand brushing suggestively against Y/n's back.

The hotel room was a haven of plush fabrics and dimmed lighting. Once the door closed behind them, Sohyun and Hyeju wasted no time. Sohyun pushed Y/n back against the wall, her lips finding his again. This kiss was different, a slow exploration that sent shivers down his spine. Her tongue danced with his, mapping every crevice, a silent promise of what was to come.

Hyeju joined in, her hands roaming Y/n's body, exploring the unfamiliar territory beneath his t-shirt. A gasp escaped his lips as her fingers grazed a sensitive spot. She chuckled, her voice a dark melody in the quiet room.

"You're cute when you're flustered," she whispered, her lips trailing down his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

Sohyun, pulling back from the kiss, mirrored Hyeju's actions. Her touch was gentler, a contrast to Hyeju's fire, yet equally intoxicating. Her lips teased a sensitive spot behind his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

They were a whirlwind of leather, lipstick, and possessiveness, each touch a brand of ownership. Y/n, overwhelmed by the sudden shift from innocent idols to predatory goddesses, found himself caught in their intoxicating whirlwind. Fear and desire warred within him, but the raw possessiveness in their eyes, the way their touches ignited a fire within him, proved irresistible.

Sohyun and Hyeju worked in perfect harmony, stripping him slowly, each discarded article of clothing a step closer to their ultimate goal. Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest, felt both terrified and strangely exhilarated. He'd never imagined his first encounter with his idols would be like this, but as their lips trailed down his bare chest, a spark ignited within him.

The room echoed with a mixture of heated gasps and frustrated moans. Y/n, stripped bare and pinned against the plush bed, felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. Fear, confusion, and a raw, primal desire battled for dominance. Sohyun and Hyeju, their playful stage personas a distant memory, were a relentless storm of kisses and touches.

Sohyun, kneeling between his legs, traced lazy patterns on his torso with the tip of her tongue. Her voice, a husky murmur against his skin, sent shivers down his spine. "Don't worry, Y/n," she breathed, her words laced with a possessiveness that made him both scared and strangely turned on. "We'll take care of you."

Hyeju, perched on the edge of the bed, mirrored Sohyun's actions on his neck and chest, leaving a trail of fiery kisses that ignited a fire in his core. Her fingers, nimble and playful, teased the sensitive skin behind his ear, drawing a choked gasp from his lips.

As they continued their exploration, a intoxicating blend of fear and arousal coursed through Y/n. He wanted to fight, to protest, but their touch, a potent cocktail of gentle and fierce, held him captive.

Suddenly, Sohyun stood, her gaze unwavering from his. "Hyeju, Jagi," she said, her voice husky with desire, "Let's show him what Wolves is really made of."

Hyeju grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Always a pleasure to follow your lead," she purred, before leaning down to whisper something in Y/n's ear that sent a blush creeping up his neck.

They worked in perfect unison, one moment Sohyun's lips were trailing fire down his stomach, the next Hyeju's tongue was exploring a forbidden zone, sending shivers of ecstasy shooting through him. He whimpered, a mixture of pain and pleasure escaping his lips.

"Shh," Sohyun whispered, her voice strangely calming amidst the storm of sensations. "Let go, Y/n. Let us show you how good this can be."

Hyeju's touch was bolder, more demanding, pushing him to his limits. Y/n, overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure and fear, found himself clinging to the sheets, his body arching off the bed in desperate pleas.

Hours later, as dawn painted the sky with streaks of orange and pink, the room lay silent. Y/n, spent and trembling, lay curled between Sohyun and Hyeju. His body ached, but a strange sense of satisfaction washed over him. He wasn't sure what the future held, but one thing was clear – he was no longer just a fan. He belonged to Wolves, and Wolves belonged to him.

Sohyun, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger, leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Welcome home, Y/n. This is just the beginning."

Hyeju nuzzled his neck, her voice a husky rasp. "Don't worry, little one. We'll keep you safe. We'll keep you warm. But remember, you're ours now. And Wolves doesn't share its toys."

Y/n, staring at the ceiling, knew his life had irrevocably changed. He was a prisoner in their gilded cage, a possession they would share. But as he drifted off to sleep, a new sensation bloomed in his chest – a dark, exhilarating thrill. He was theirs, yes, but maybe, just maybe, they were his too. The future with Wildfire was uncertain, a terrifying yet thrilling prospect. And as he nestled deeper into their embrace, a single thought echoed in his mind: This is crazy. But maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what I wanted.

#triples sohyun #sohyun #hyeju #son hyeju #loosemble #kpop smut #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

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Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV, Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #my fic recs #50 to 100K

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andmaybegayer · 5 months

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Michael scope

Zeiss Jena Laboval ?3? I think, documentation for the Laboval series online starts and ends with the Laboval 4. By all accounts this is their upper mid range lab scope, with Amplival being the top of the line before you get to big scopes that have to be installed by a technician.

There's a large variety of Zeiss scopes that were manufacturered on this side of the iron curtain, as you can see this is an East German piece. Pretty good condition, scratchy condenser optics but the objectives and eyepiece seem to be in great nick, from a quick inspection, and that's what matters. Eyepieces are 10×'s, Objectives are a 3.2 semiplanar, a 10, a 40 planar (which I think will get a lot of use), and a 100 oil immersion. Pretty normal setup.

I don't have slides and slips yet so I can't do a proper mount, but this is pretty promising for just sliding a sheet of paper into the slide holder. Proper mounting will improve the focus plane immensely. 32× and 100× so far.

The illumination is off-centre and uneven but that's resolvable and anyway it might be fun to move to LED. I also want to build some top illumination brackets for opaque subjects.

I had like. A kiddies toy microscope growing up and I got as far as trying to make it do darkfield with pieces of cardboard, but never something this professional, binocular optics is such a big step up on its own.

The only real issue I've seen so far is that the stage Z axis is very sloppy, huge backlash. Everything has been stuffed with new grease recently so at least it moves smoothly, old scopes and old typewriters both have a tendency to seize if they're forgotten for more than a few months at a time.

I'll swing by the lake and pick up some algae and protist samples later, and I need to order slides and slips. Also I can print some darkfield and oblique illumination filters.

Probably not going to fuck too much with oil immersion, but who knows, also I'll keep an eye out for water immersion objectives.

I think that with an appropriate head replacement and some filter hacking I could get phase contrast microscopy up and running, probably scavenging some Amplival parts. I'd need to see. I can definitely get fluorescence microscopy working with an illumination upgrade. It would also be nice to gut the electronics and put in a simple battery powered illumination system I can charge over USB so I don't have to rely on wall power. Even the stock tungsten lighting is only 5W at 6V so that's easy to swing.

Objectives are DIN 45mm I think, and it sounds like many Eastern Bloc microscopes use standardized head mounts. I'll also be able to print a lot of parts for this, but I'll probably want to get some black filament for optical reasons.

First I want to do some protist sketches, I picked up a protists book at a used bookstore a while ago and it got me really hyped to do protist watching. This is definitely at some level me trying to replace macroscopic wildlife spotting in my life.

#microscopy #carl zeiss #jena laboval #laboval 3

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charlottegeorgesheart · 10 months

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Young Queen Charlotte, played by India Amarteifio, keeps to innocent pastels in her early scenes, but her colors grow bolder as her power does too. (Liam Daniel/Netflix)

BY VALLI HERMAN

In the first minutes of the “Bridgerton” prequel “Queen Charlotte,” the namesake character complains heartily how her elaborate gown and its restrictive corset made of brittle and sharp whalebone means that if she moves too much, “I might be sliced and stabbed to death by my undergarments.”

Oh, dearest gentle reader, young Queen Charlotte hasn’t suffered in vain. Her every ensemble, and those of the show’s sizable cast, are crafted with such sumptuous detail, that surely all who view them would gladly have them suffer even more.

Even though period costumes are notoriously cumbersome, Emmy-winning costume designer Lyn Elizabeth Paolo and co-costume designer Laura Frecon dispel notions that the actors suffered much (thanks to light, modern fabrics and stretchy panels in their corsets). Still, the yearlong shoot in grand estates across the United Kingdom overlapped the pandemic lockdown and required worldwide sourcing. It seems that their brand of elegant finery was a tonic for distress, and a cause for celebration. The work, helped by a 220-person costume crew, has earned them a 2023 Emmy nomination for period costumes.

Replica undergarments were crafted from light, modern fabrics and stretchy panels to be slightly more comfortable than the actual period clothing. (Liam Daniel/Netflix)

“This [shoot] was challenging, but also joyful. Every time a piece of a costume would come back, it was, ‘Oh, my God! It looks better than we thought it would.’ There was a lot of joy there,” says Paolo, the longtime designer for other Shonda Rhimes productions, such as “Inventing Anna” and “Scandal.”

The six-episode costume drama on Netflix explores the early days of the difficult marriage of Queen Charlotte (India Amarteifio) and King George III (Corey Mylchreest). The fictionalized story of the actual royals takes place in two time periods — the Georgian era of the 1760s and the later Regency era in which “Bridgerton” is set — and includes key characters from the original show. There are several grand balls, a royal wedding and a coronation to wardrobe. No biggie.

Or so Paolo was led to believe.

“I remember Sara Fischer, who is head of production at Shondaland, called me and said, ‘Shonda has this idea for a small, intimate show. She really wants you to do it.’ And, what are you going to say?” recalls Paolo, who was a consultant on Season 2 of “Bridgerton.”

She invented a time-twisting concept inspired by Monet and Matisse paintings and modern fashion designers who themselves referenced historical costume such as John Galliano, Alexander McQueen, Moschino, Zuhair Murad and Christian Dior in his New Look era. Yet Paolo kept the silhouette appropriately Georgian.

“The pitch was, we kind of want it to look like a Met Ball … but to be slightly more on point with the period. We still wanted to have our own stylistic elements that would make sure that the modern eye understood the costumes,” Paolo says.

Corey Mylchreest as King George and India Amarteifio as Queen Charlotte all but sparkle in their lustrous clothing. (Nick Wall/Netflix)

“For the men, we had images of rock ‘n’ roll icons from the ‘70s and ‘80s. So a lot of images of Prince, the New Romantics and Adam Ant. All those people back then who had that pirate chic going on.”

That vision required a mostly custom-made wardrobe that sourced from London, Los Angeles, New York, Budapest and Spain. Jewelers Joseff of Hollywood, Manhattan’s Larkspur & Hawk and Italy’s Pikkio custom made the period jewelry and other adornments. British manufacturer James Hare supplied traditional fabrics as did a mill hours from London that wove custom fabrics. Smaller artisan shops focused on hand embroidery or a particular character.

“It was sort of a small army,” says Paolo, who relied on the organizational skills of Frecon. A giant calendar and flow chart helped them track the flow of work, particularly of the embroidered pieces, which were outsourced to UK specialists Twan Lentjes Creations, Beth Parry and Hattie McGill, whose Instagram accounts illustrate their handiwork.

Other members of the court stand out in patterned fabrics (on Tunji Kasim as Adolphus) and brightly colored gowns with hats (Arsema Thomas as Agatha Danbury).

“It’s so complicated,” Paolo says, describing a process of sample making, initial embroidery, further tailoring and additional hand embellishing before a pattern piece is ever fitted into a garment. Even fabric-covered buttons were embroidered.

The women’s gowns are especially intensive. The earlier dresses, from 1760 onward, required 13 to 20 yards of fabric and at least four weeks of construction; five if they’re heavily embellished. Each ensemble requires petticoats that can add five to 10 more yards each, plus a corset, a pannier (a cage-like underpinning), a padded bum roll, shoes, stockings and garters. The jewelry sets were matched to each costume and included rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets and tiara-like hair jewelry that was fitted into fantastical wigs by hair and makeup designer Nic Collins.

With two sets of characters to dress in two different eras, the costume designers were careful to build visual continuity, typically with color. Young Queen Charlotte, for example, keeps to innocent pastels in her early scenes, but her colors grow bolder as her power does too. The designers cannot precisely count the number of costume changes, or quantify the number of pieces they used, only to say “in the thousands.” Paolo says Jeff Jur, director of photography, was on board to capture the spectacle and regularly texted her and Frecon to say, “‘I’m doing a full head-to-toe shot of this one.”

Still, it’s tricky to absorb all of the detail, even though it’s there on the hand-embroidered initials on a man’s handkerchief, or the restored antique jet beading and lace on Queen Charlotte’s mourning gown, or the Easter eggs, as Paolo calls the references she wove into many costumes, particularly those in the final episode, which features an astronomy-themed ball, hosted by the king and queen.

King George loves astronomy, so stars and moons are embroidered and beaded into their clothes. The ball was shot outdoors at night, which usually obscures costume details. Jur expertly lit the scene to illuminate the clothes that were so laden with sparkly bits that they twinkle.

Though the final episode was picked to submit for Emmy consideration, the choice was “brutal,” Paolo said. “It’s a huge group of amazingly talented people who all deserve recognition. If we are lucky enough to win, I would want 220 miniature ones to hand out to everyone.”

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indoorlights · 1 year

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shopsignbd · 3 months

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morbrosindiaweb · 3 months

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gunebuggieswriting · 8 months

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Whumptober Day Four: Cattle Prod | Shock | "You in there?"

The Danger Written In Your Eyes

[AO3]

Danny Phantom, Danny-Centric, Slavery, Starvation, Dehydration, Murder, Hurt no Comfort, Shocks, Cannibalism, Unreliable Narrator, Blood and Injury, Words: 2997

Danny tiredly lifted the crate, his body begging him to rest. He couldn't though not being allowed to.

The agent watching them must have seen him as he struggled to move though, taking it as a sign to stab him with the cattle prod, or "ghost prod" as they called it.

"Stop being lazy, ghost." She sneered, spitting out the word "ghost" as if it were a disease, watching with disgust as his body shook in pain. He bit his tongue to stop himself from telling her that it wasn't "laziness" that was slowing him down, but him growing increasingly worn out from the constant work. They didn't believe him the last time he said it, the idiots thinking that it was impossible for ghosts to get tired, and there was no point in trying to make them see reason.

He hated those shocks. They reminded him of the electricity that ran through him during the incident in the portal, what killed him halfway. It was that day that eventually led him here, to be captured by the GIW and forced into slavery. He grit his teeth and continued moving, blinking away the tears wetting his eyes. He wouldn't cry here, he wouldn't give that satisfaction to these monsters.

He wished he wasn't here, and hoped that somebody would save him soon. That hope was dwindling, having already lost track of the days he was imprisoned here. It's been somewhere close to a month, maybe two, perhaps even longer, and he could feel himself beginning to break.

The white walls reflecting the bright florescent lights above burnt his eyes, causing him to have a constant headache. They never fed them or gave them water here, something seen as unnecessary for them, none of them living. Well mostly, he was the only one alive, or half alive. He needed those things, and he could feel his human half withering without them, causing his ghost side to become weak.

He wondered how much longer he could take before he was truly dead, or a walking corpse if his ghost half couldn't die again. He couldn't transform back into a human, the shackles on him prevented him from using any of his powers, but it also forced him to give it ectoplasm to stay charged. Whenever he tried to turn into a human, the rings slowly climbing his body, the cuffs would feel the lack of ectoplasm and shock him. Although his human side did produce ectoplasm, it wasn't nearly as much as his ghost side, and any decrease caused the cuffs to go crazy. It hurt worse than the hot sticks the agents loved to use, so he never tried to transform again.

Not like he really wanted to now. He didn't want to see how terrible his human half looked. How thin his frame would be, cheeks hollow, eyes sunken and empty. He could imagine how much pain he'd be in, only to be drowned out by his exhaustion. He'd probably pass out, if he didn’t fully die right then and there. The thought of it made him shiver. He could already taste death, and it wasn't sweet, he already danced with it before.

He huffed, placing down the crate of ectoplasm powered weapons on top of another crate. He grimaced looking at it, knowing exactly what they were for. He had overheard the guards speaking about how the GIW was finally getting some "well deserved" recognition. That with ghosts becoming more of a problem, they were getting a lot more funding to deal with it. They didn't know that it was because Danny was stuck here and couldn't stop the ghosts, and he didn't bother to tell them. It's not like they'd listen.

With this new amount of funding they were finally able to start up a manufacturing company to make anti-ghost weapons on a whole new scale. They were even discussing whether they should begin selling the weapons to the public. Something that Danny wanted to argue against.

If everybody had weapons against ghosts, the ghosts peacefully roaming wouldn't last very long. Eventually they'd also build up a sort of army, something that the Infinite Realms would take seriously, which could lead to war. A war that the Earth couldn't win. One that'd devastate even the winners, the Infinite Realms holding Earth may collapse from the damage. After that, they'd all cease to exist. It'd be a terrible chain of events, suffering on every side.

They didn't understand that. None of them did, no matter how many times he tried to explain. They'd always scoff and assume Danny was telling them this because he was trying to protect his own species, being a ghost. If only they knew he was trying to protect his own species, being a human.

He couldn't tell them that. He didn't have proof, not being able to change into a human, and they'd never dare to take the shackles keeping him there off. They wouldn't believe a word he said. Even if they did, it'd probably cause them to become more curious with him than to actually listen to his warning. They'd hide him, keeping him under secure government lockdown so they could experiment with him, ignoring the laws they're supposed to enforce.

His life really did suck at the moment, and as his limited time ticked down, he was beginning to become desperate. He couldn't stay here. Not if he wanted to keep what part of him was alive. Not if he wanted to keep the people he cared about safe. Not if he wanted to keep the realm he lived in.

It seemed like he had no other choice.

"Hey! I told you to quit being lazy, you damned gh-!"

Danny didn't allow the woman to finish her sentence, snatching the cattle prod from her hand, stopping her from using it. He didn't hesitate whenever he turned the cattle prod around, shocking her with it instead. He wrapped a hand around her mouth to keep her from screaming. He didn't flinch whenever the electricity ran through him too, already knowing it was coming, watching with blank eyes as the woman thrashed in his hold.

Moments later the woman quit moving entirely, and he didn't when he carelessly tossed her on the ground. The other ghosts around him stared with shocked expressions, and before they could break out of it Danny raised a single finger, silently telling them to be quiet. Few nodded in fear, others still too surprised to do anything but stare. Most ghosts hardly ever take lives, majority knowing from personal experience how it felt whenever life drained from them. He'd never wanted to take a life either, having experienced both death and being brought back, but he didn't have a choice. They didn't give him a choice.

He walked away, hearing how his shackles beep in warning as he strayed from the path designed just for ghosts. He ignored it until he was behind the crates, out of view from the others. He balled up the white sleeve of the jacket he was forced into, stuffing it in his mouth. He took a deep breath from his nose, trying to calm his nerves, before taking the cattle prod and sticking it to the cuff.

His screams were muffled by the sleeve, and his body lurched forward from pain. He kept on though, wanting the shackle off. He'd endure the pain, he had to, he had no other choice.

Electricity always felt worse for him than others. After all, reminding a ghost of their death was always painful, his physically so. Flashes of his time in the portal threatened to surface, but he pushed them back. He couldn't think of that now, couldn't allow himself to be distracted. If he did he'd let go of the stick, and then he'd have to do this all over again.

After what felt like forever, but was most likely less than a minute, the cuffs fell off. The electricity was too much for the cuffs. He immediately threw down the stick, breathing heavily, tears peeking out from the corner of his eyes. His whole body felt numb, and from where his sleeve was raised up a bit he could see how his scars glowed. He roughly pulled the sleeve back down, and leaned against the crates.

That's when he felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion pass through him, bringing panic with it. His body was trying to transform, his ghost half spent now, and he couldn't let that happen. He fought the rings that threatened to climb up his body, his face scrunched from the amount of concentration it took. With him being halfway fried he couldn't think of much, feeling numbed in a way he hoped wouldn't be permanent.

Eventually he won the battle, his ghost half no longer trying to fade. He knew that it wouldn't last long, that he would soon be forced to face his living half, or what remained of it. He groaned, pulling himself to stand. He didn't turn around back to the other ghosts still trapped, or the woman he mercilessly killed and dropped to the floor. This was his chance, so he had no other choice other than to finally leave the place. Something he should have done weeks ago, but was too afraid to do, with too many ghosts he didn't want to leave behind.

He wasn't afraid anymore, he proved that, the stiff corpse on the ground still there. He'd come back for the ghosts, and they'd all burn the place down, or…

They could just burn it now.

His face broke out into a grin, pain and exhaustion forgotten, as he turned back around.

If he truly wasn't afraid he'd take them down now, show the idiots who trapped him and everyone else here that they shouldn't have. They'd regret ever doing so, any peaceful negotiations be damned. He was tired of being the "hero", as much as he was tired of being titled the "villain". He could be both right now, and he'd show them how blurry that line really was.

In the back of his mind, the part of him still stuck in the past, before being captured, begged him to just leave. That one life was already too much, that he shouldn't claim any more. His present self drowned that quiet voice, knowing that he had no other choice. One life wasn't enough anymore.

After that it was much more blurry, stuffing his consciousness deep inside and allowing logical thinking and actions to drive him forward. He couldn't feel anything, his emotions other than anger all an afterthought. This left him as the brutal being that the GIW was forced to fight, a Danny they've never seen before. A more cunning version, no longer held back by fear of harming others. He easily tore through the agency with the help of the other ghosts he freed, even with the many who simply escaped, not wanting to either kill others or possibly be in Danny’s way of doing so, however some felt the same as he did. They knew there was no longer another choice.

The GIW was just as lackluster and stupid as before, and Danny couldn't help but wonder how he got caught in the first place. It must be from how he never truly tried to hurt them. Now that he wasn't holding back, they understood how severely they underestimated him. There was a reason he could keep all other ghosts from destroying the world, and it wasn't because he was weak.

He left the government facility, the warmth of the flames comforting on his cold damp skin. He was soaked in blood, most of it starting to dry, though his footprints remained bloody as he walked further from the building. The ghosts beside him slowly began to disperse, some thanking Danny for saving them, others leaving silently. He didn't talk to any of them, and he blamed the shocks he put himself through earlier for the way he still felt numb.

His mind was still blank as he used what little remaining power he had left to go invisible and lift his body into the air, leaving after all the other ghosts did, no longer feeling responsible for them. He returned home, or what should have been home, but after being gone for so long he felt distant. Perhaps it wasn't the town that didn't feel like home, but the feeling of him no longer belonging there. He did belong there though, so he ignored that possibility.

He tried to make it into his house, to find Jazz and tell her everything that happened so she could help him, but he didn't make it that far. He was flying, until he wasn't, crashing right in front of his house. He barely lifted himself from the ground, resting shakily on his elbows, as he stared at the house in front of him. He reached out with a hand, willing to crawl there if he had to, but his invisibility flickered as well.

He froze, knowing that if his parents saw him as a ghost they wouldn't hesitate to shoot him.

He felt sick thinking about that, or maybe it was the fact that his human half was bleeding through his ghost half. It didn't matter, as he knew that his parents were just as bad as the GIW, and he couldn't have that. He just escaped one prison, he couldn't stay in another.

With that thought he knew what he'd have to do. He stood up, no longer having to keep the rings from rising up his body, newfound determination driving him to continue. Ghosts were made of emotions, and if the only thing he felt at the moment was his need to accomplish what had to be done, then his core would respond.

He'd get rid of his parents, then he could truly be home. What other choice did he have? It was because of them that he didn't feel like he could live there.

He let himself fall back into the same mind state he was back at the agency, dragging his body into the house. With silent feet he found himself in his parents room, sleeping soundly. His eye twitched, not understanding how they could be so peaceful when their son was trapped in a government building. He was never allowed to sleep a wink, and yet they probably slept every night.

He'd sleep after this, in a bed of his own.

What happened next he didn't know, he came back to reality with blood dripping from his hands. His face was covered in his parents blood as well, and he didn't want to think about why his stomach no longer ached.

He left the room, staining the carpet beneath him as he walked to Jazz's room. He didn't knock on the door, entering it without the permission he'd usually ask for. His sister would forgive him, too elated by his surprise return.

What he didn't expect was to be shot squarely in the chest by a gun, his sister's eyes widening with shock. He fell back against the door, sliding down to the floor, covering the hole in his body. If he had enough energy his ghost half would have already healed it, but as he was he watched disinterested as it simply bled.

"Danny? Oh God– Danny is that you?" He looked back up to his sister hurriedly rushing to his side. She kneeled down, her hands hovering over his own that were holding the wound on his chest. She gasped, tears falling down her cheeks. "No– Danny I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you, I– I– you were gone for so long."

Danny didn't say anything as her eyes fully took him in, his own eyes void of emotion. "You in there, Danny, are you– are you okay? I know that's a stupid question, considering I just shot you. But you're covered in blood, and I heard screaming– I swear it sounded like Mom and Dad. What happened?"

"It's not my blood." Was all he said in response, moving to stand back up. He couldn't transform back now, he'd need a lot of ectoplasm to fully heal back. He'd visit the Ghost Zone and recover. If he doesn't, he'll turn back into a human and immediately die. His body finally seemed to understand his resistance to turn back, as it didn't bother trying to force him again.

Jazz gently put hands on his shoulders, not allowing him to get up, he didn’t fight against her caring touches. "Don't move too much, you'll strain your injury and only get yourself more hurt. Wait– what do you mean it's not your blood?"

"My blood is green." He answered, as if it should be obvious, raising his hand to show her the toxic green hole in his body. She winced looking at it, her head quickly turning elsewhere, swallowing the bile rising in her throat

She took a deep breath and looked back over, relieved that Danny had covered the wound again. She looked into her little brother's eyes, a shiver going down her spine from the lack of anything in his eyes. What exactly happened to him, to her silly and awkward teen brother, who would be defiant to any "mother henning' she'd do?

She gulped, noticing how around those blank eyes were drying blood, a shade of dark red. She felt dread bubble deep in her stomach. "Danny, who's blood is that?"

She tried to ask him calmly, but her voice cracked at the end, showing her desperation. Desperate to be told anything else than what she was thinking, for her thoughts to be proved wrong.

Danny blinked, and his unusual dull green eyes never looked away from hers. "I had no other choice."

Her blood ran cold, much like the blood on her little brother's body.

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kira-anon-uwu · 4 months

Text

Blossom in ribcage, until their backs break [ 2 ]

Directly Into a Wall

Warning for: descriptions of bruises, some blood for like five seconds, and a gun later

Main Post

Previous Chapter

~-~

Getting into a place that hadn't had anyone working in it for the majority of his lifetime was alot easier said than done, and Tommy spent half an hour just finding a spot in the fence that it was safe for him to squeeze himself through without getting caught on some of the rusted chicken wire or jagged edges.

Once he was inside, the next struggle was figuring out how to get into the factory itself. In hindsight, he probably should have Googled some tips on urban exploration as well.

Oh well, he was going to be breaking in on his own, and he was going to be doing it with style.

As much style as someone kicking in a rotting door could have.

The spot he managed to get into was an upper floor of a large manufacturing room, with the vast majority of it gutted to hell and back. There were large platforms where machinery once stood in various parts of the room, and absolutely nothing of value was remaining.

Even most of the windows were gone, either boarded up or left as open holes used by pigeons to get inside and shit on everything.

"Great, there's government drones fucking everywhere,", Tommy scoffed, keeping his distance from the mess of birds that he'd disturbed with his entrance in case they decided to take his presence personally.

The whole place smelled of birds and rot, and he tried not to think too hard about what all he was probably breathing in. He'd heard that if he got mesothelioma from breathing in asbestos, him or a loved one could be entitled to compensation; and money was always good.

He decided to stay on the floor he'd entered through, not just because the majority of the birds and leftover shards of glass were in the lower part of the building, but because there was better lighting up there for him to really get an idea of what was happening when he shot the webs out of his wrists.

Ok, well it was technically silk, but calling it webs sounded way cooler to him.

The real issue here was where to start, because he truthfully had no idea what he was doing. It wasn't like he could find a book called 'What Does a Boy Do When He's Suddenly Given The Ability To Shoot Webs From His Wrists?', and if there were a book on it, it didn't use that as a title.

He was gonna have to copyright that one.

In regards to stuff he knew he was able to to, Tommy was able to shoot out uncoordinated globs of web out of his wrists in a shapeless mess that went a random distance before sticking to the first thing it touched. He'd noticed his hands being slightly stickier as well, but that wasn't nearly as intense as the webs.

He tried to think of different ways to make it come out; moving his arm like he was throwing something, putting more effort into shooting the webs out, punching the air.

That last one had an affect, his hand curled into a fist making the web come out in more of a stream. It ended up hitting the floor in the same globby mess as the other attempts, but it was a start.

Tommy made a fist again, keeping his arm still this time and shooting the web with enough force that it nearly made contact with the farthest wall of the factory from him.

He chuckled as he looked between the web and his hand. "Holy shit!"

That led to trying out other hand positions, and each gave him different results. Clenching his hand into a fist sent it far, but it still ended up hitting in a messy blob. Pointing didn't have nearly the same distance, but it had enough force that it stirred up the mess on the floor and scared some of the pigeons off. Giving a middle finger with his hand pointed downwards shot a web directly where someone's face would be at average height, which was hilarious.

The most useful was when he put down his middle and ring finger, though; making a solid stream of web that went ridiculously far.

It hit the same wall he'd nearly gotten with the first fist glob, staying connected with his wrist. He gave it a tug, getting rid of any of it's slack without it coming off of the wall.

"It's almost like a rope..."

He looked up at the support beams on the ceiling, eyes practically lighting up as he got an incredibly poor and incredibly fun idea.

Tommy moved back, aiming his hand again and shooting a new string at the beam closest to him. It stuck, he gave it a hard tug to make sure it would support him, and then, without thinking too much on it, he jumped over the railing that led to the lower floor of the factory with only a web from his arm to stop him from breaking his legs on impact.

And it did slow his fall, the failing coming in his lack of upper body strength.

The result was one arm sticking awkwardly to the web while he flailed with the other and landed with absolutely zero grace on the floor.

Tommy rolled onto his back to catch his breath, and very painfully sat up after a few minutes with the acknowledgement that he was going to be bruised to hell and back when he got home.

But the web had stayed! It was still connected to the ceiling, and it'd technically been strong enough to support his weight.

That was huge, since it really opened the doors on what he would be able to do with it.

Speaking of doors opening, the one he'd broken to get inside was pushed open as two cops came in with flashlights and guns that they were pointing around the room. They found him pretty fast, one pointing his firearm at him while the other only shined his light; how considerate.

"Stay where you are! You're trespassing."

"Oh, wow, I had no idea. Thanks for telling me,", Tommy put as much sarcasm into it as he could manage, trying to think of something he could do to avoid getting arrested.

"Hands where I can see them."

He sighed as he did what they said, and the cops started climbing down the stairs. Once they were halfway down, Tommy started running for the other side of the factory.

They chased him, obviously, but froze when he decided to take advantage of his momentum and shoot a web.

He got it stuck on a random part of the ceiling, and was immediately flung into the air as he ran. There was a moment of absolute weightlessness as he hit the peak of his swing, followed by a lesson in physics as gravity took affect and he started falling back toward the ground.

Tommy managed to turn himself around in the air, and was able to shoot another web before he hit the floor. He swung directly between the cops this time, and was back in the air. Another web fired, more momentum, and he was back on the second floor railing.

He caught his breath, looking back down at the cops to see both of them pointing their weapons. They didn't even try to pretend they were in control of the situation this time, one of them almost immediately firing on him without giving any sort of warning.

"Fuck- Holy shit, why-", Tommy's confusion was interrupted by a bullet from the other cop this time, and he could hear one of them radioing in about 'Another one of Ramulus' freaks' as he read the room and bailed.

He started trying to find the hole he'd used to get in, giving up after the police made it outside and just using his webs to get over the fence. His shoulder blades were practically screaming by this point, and he scraped himself on the barbed wire on his way past it, but the cops weren't able to hit or catch him as he made his escape, so really he was the winner here.

He just continued to run after that, managing to use a combination of his webs and sticky hands to get to the top of an apartment building or something before he collapsed to let himself breathe.

There were at least ten police cars that he could hear approaching the factory, their sirens just barely sticking out over the noise of the city. He was almost positive that he'd managed to get away, at least, since none of those sirens sounded like they were on their way to him.

That meant the immediate issue now was getting back down from the spot he'd chosen to hide. And the solution to that issue came in the form of a mostly full dumpster in the alleyway below.

Tommy tried to gently lower himself into it, but still ended up falling at least a story. It absolutely fucking stank, but smelling like ass was better than giving himself any more scrapes of bruises than he already had.

He chose to leave his jacket in the dumpster while he was at it, since he'd absolutely shredded one of the sleeves on the chicken wire while he was running, and rushed home to minimize the risk of punishment for how late he'd been out.

Not that he thought Wilbur would be punishing him for something like that, but the concern was always going to be there. Getting grounded, and being stuck in that small apartment while his brother was either out or at work...

No, Wilbur wouldn't do that, but he was still going to be wanting an explanation for what'd happened when he saw him.

By some unbelievable stroke of luck, Wilbur was nowhere to be found when he got back; meaning that Tommy was safe.

For now, anyways. He had more time to come up with an excuse, and he was going to need one because man was he looking rough. He wasn't really able to see the full extent of it past the layer of grime and pigeon feces, so he took a hot shower to sanitize and rid himself of any diseases he may have picked up.

The scalding water felt amazing against his injuries, and the only thing stopping him from falling asleep in there was knowing his brother would throw a fit over him wasting water like that. He still stayed in there longer than he normally would, though, because he seriously felt like he needed it.

He got a proper look at himself once he was out, and he looked about as shit as he felt.

The entirety of the right side of his chest was covered in a range of purples lining his ribs, his cheek was a mix of yellow and red where he'd smacked his face off of the concrete factory floor. His shoulders were the worst of it, all the way around his shoulder blade and under his arms a dark purple and red.

Overall, it looked like he'd gotten his ass beat and they bent his arms three-hundred and sixty degrees after repeatedly kicking him in the ribs.

There wasn't really much he could do to make it look better outside of putting an icepack to his ribs and hoping he hadn't broken any of them, so he got the one Wilbur kept in the back of the freezer as he was grabbing some cold pizza out of the fridge. He balanced the two as he went to his room, practically inhaling the food and laying down.

It was honestly pretty hard to find a way to lay with the icepack touching what he needed it to, and he eventually settled with laying on his stomach with his head resting on his arms.

It was around seven, and Tommy had intended to text his brother asking when he'd be back, but he got distracted by some other notification first and was asleep before he managed to get back on track.

Oh well, he definately needed it by that point anyways.

His brother decided to wait until around eleven the next morning to wake him up; two hours later than he would normally force Tommy out of bed on a Saturday.

"Tommy."

"Mh?", Tommy just barely turned his head in the direction of the door, not opening his eyes.

Usually, by this point, Wilbur would have already taken his pillow in an attempt to get him up. But this time he was staying right where he was at the door and continuing to talk in a quiet tone. "Did you have any plans for today?"

"No, wh-", he interrupted himself with a yawn, "Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today?"

"Why?"

"No reason, I was just- Last weekend was our first not spent moving your stuff, and you were dying on the sofa, so I thought we could do something today. If you're up for it, that is."

"Sure, give me some time to wake the fuck up, I guess."

"Yeah, of course, take your time. Not too long, no point going out if everything's fucking closed. I'm not rushing you, though."

"If you aren't rushing me, then I'm going back to sleep,", Tommy yawned again as he rolled over, earning a sigh from his brother.

"Be reasonable here, please."

"I am reasonable always and forever."

"Then I'll reasonably be giving you a time limit; half an hour, or we'll be walking rather than taking my car anywhere."

"No, it's probably cold out."

"Then you better not drag your feet."

"Bl-bl-bl-hb-bl-"

"Don't spout gibberish at me, you're fifteen not five."

Tommy stopped for only a moment before making even louder noises at him.

"Enough. Up by noon, or you are legally required to exercise today."

"You can't do shit with the law, you switched majors."

"Wrong, I don't need to know the law in intricate detail to break it."

"I'll break you."

Wilbur snorted out a laugh as he left, and Tommy took a few more minutes to pull himself together before finally sitting up. And then immediately freezing as he remembered the night before and wondered how Wilbur hadn't seen his face.

There was no way he would have ignored it, but he would have been looking right at the bruise on Tommy's cheek when they'd been talking. Tommy had been celebrating the absurd amounts of luck he seemed to have before starting to change out of his pyjamas and realizing that the bruises just... weren't there.

The ones on his body were still kind of present, but had gone from a noticeable purple to a light yellow that was barely even there compared to how it'd looked before he went to bed.

He used his phone camera to see his face, and at most it looked like he'd been sleeping on the side where the bruises had been.

"What the fuck..."

He had to test this somehow, because there was no way bruises that bad had healed overnight.

But he also wasn't very good at thinking ahead, so his idea of 'testing it' was grabbing a pair of scissors and slicing the palm of his hand. Tommy watched it bleed for a moment, realizing how bad that idea had been and wrapping a shirt around it so he could get to the bathroom without trailing blood.

He heard Wilbur teasing him about needing to piss or something when he slammed the door, but he was more focused on his hand.

His hand, which had almost fully healed by the time he was cleaning off the blood.

"No fucking shot,", he chuckled, gently pulling at the edges of the freshly healed slice.

There was only a red line there now, and even that was fading away as he watched it. He tried his best to act normal once he was done in there, hiding the blood covered shirt behind his door on his way past his room again before going to the fridge to take the rest of the leftover pizza.

"Don't fucking choke,", Wilbur looked concerned as he watched Tommy eat, "Holy shit, you're inhaling that. Did you not eat last night or something?"

"Mind your own fucking business,", he said with his mouth full, not swallowing for the sake of the bit.

"You're mortality is my business. I don't feel like making you spit up whatever ends up getting lodged in your throat as you eat at the speed of light."

"Don't fucking say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're talking about burping a fucking baby or something."

"Hey, you're the one comparing yourself to a baby this time, not me,", Wilbur raised his hands in front of himself with a smug grin, "I never said anything of the sort."

"I will flay you."

"Where the fuck did you learn that word from? Because it certainly wasn't my class; not with how little you pay attention."

"Don't have to pay attention when I have to listen to you talk about that shit here anyways,", Tommy scoffed, eating a third slice of pizza.

"Guess we don't have to worry about stopping anywhere for food. Not lunch for, at least."

"No, this is breakfast. I still require more food."

Which was true, he'd woken up absolutely starving.

"How? You've just eaten nearly half a pizza."

Tommy shrugged at him, not fully sure about that himself. He was expecting Wilbur to argue with him over that, but instead the man just rolled his eyes.

"Figure out where you want to go, then. I was planning on taking you downtown, but if you want to go somewhere else tell me now and we'll do that instead."

"... The fuck are you being so nice for today?"

"I- What are you talking about?"

The stutter was immediate confirmation that something was up, and Tommy narrowed his eyes. "You let me sleep in, you threatened to make me walk instead of telling me we wouldn't be going anywhere,", he was counting it out on his fingers as he went down his points, "And you're not getting pissy about any change of plans."

"Like I said earlier, we're done moving your shit, so I-"

"Bullshit."

Wilbur was obviously trying to think of a different excuse, eventually sighing as his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Right, fine, you've caught me,", he frowned as he made eye contact with Tommy, "I tried to make it home earlier last night, but I had so much shit to deal with it that I couldn't manage it. And you were already in bed by the time I got here, and-"

"Wait, that's it? Really?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Next time, I'll just take the shit home with me-"

"Wil, that's not a big deal."

Wilbur's frown only deepened when he said that. "Yes, it is."

"I'm used to it-"

"So was I, that's why I can confidently say you shouldn't be. That was the whole point of you coming to live here-"

"Wil, it's fine, seriously. It's not like you're doing it constantly, and it's not the end of the world if you stay later to finish up your work shit; rather you do school shit at the school so I don't have to hear about it."

Wilbur didn't look particularly happy with his response, but sighed again with a nod. "Right, no, I'll- I promise it won't happen again, though."

Tommy really wasn't sure why he was making such a big deal of it, but his brother was weird about stuff like that sometimes. "Fine, whatever. Are we leaving or not?"

"I was waiting for you, I've been up since eight."

"Sounds like a skill issue. Sleep is important, you know."

"You can't use my own words against me, especially not when I said them in the context of you staying up until three on a night where you had to be up by six."

"Technically I don't have to-"

"No, shut up, you know you're about to spout bullshit."

"... Well you can't prove that."

They left not long after that, spending the majority of the day at the mall downtown and coming back at some point around six p.m. to order dinner after agreeing that they'd had enough of being in public for the day.

There was a knock at the door, and Wilbur made a shooing motion. "That's probably the delivery. You got the majority of the shit, go bring it in."

"The fuck do you mean 'probably'? It tells you on your fucking phone."

"I got a whole fucking pizza just for you, go bring it in."

"'Mimimi I'm old and my knees don't work well enough for me to get off of the sofa'-"

"Y'know what? Yes, I am decrepit and old and require your assistance acquiring the nourishment of which I have procured for-"

"Holy shit, shut the fuck up,", Tommy got to his feet, throwing one of the couch pillows at his brother, "It's Saturday, no big words."

"How do you expect to learn if you aren't exposed to a larger vocabulary?"

"My vocabulary is large enough, thank you."

"Yeah? You know like five words, and four of them are 'fuck'."

"Do you have a fucking problem with that?"

"No, by all means express yourself when appropriate. Now express yourself over to the door before the neighbors steal our food."

He threw another pillow before going, opening the door and pausing when he saw that whoever it was was still standing there. Tommy's confusion turned into fear when he realized that the guy at their door was the head of security from Ewe.

The short man, Quackity if he remembered right, seemed just as surprised to see him there. "... Weren't you one of the kids Sam had with him?"

Tommy stood there silently, terrified as he spent a solid minute trying to work up the nerve to speak.

Wilbur was there before he was able to get words out, moving Tommy to the side so he could roughly shove Quackity farther out into the hall. He slammed the door behind himself, and Tommy had to put his ear to it to listen the conversation that was realistically quiet enough that he wouldn't have been hearing it if he didn't have the spider-enhanced hearing.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here? Who the fuck told you you could show up at my apartment?"

"Relax, you're the one that told me to let you know if I had any work for you. You never told me you had a kid, man; I thought he looked familiar,", Quackity chuckled, "Y'know, I've never told you this, but I think dads are kinda-"

"That's my brother."

"Oh, good, so I'm not competing with a baby mama."

"I'll ask again; what the fuck do you want?"

"I have a feeling you don't want me going into detail here, and from the looks of things going inside to talk isn't an option right now either."

Wilbur was quiet for a long minute, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "You- Look, text me and I'll meet with you later. Does that work for you?"

"Don't make me wait too long."

"Don't worry, Tweety Bird, I'll be sure to give you a time hours ahead of when I plan on being there."

"Don't tease me like that, man."

"Kill yourself."

Quackity let out a shocked laugh, sounding farther down the hall now. "Woah, this isn't a COD lobby, man!"

"If it were, there'd be more slurs involved."

"Yeah? Any of those you think you'd be able to reclaim?"

"Goodbye, don't come back."

"Don't sound so excited to see my ass."

"What's there to see?", Wilbur snorted, opening the door before Tommy had a chance to move back and nearly hitting him in the face.

Tommy tried really hard to pretend he hadn't been eavesdropping, and his brother let out a sigh.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"I heard him hitting on you, and I heard something about slurs. Was that the guy from Ewe?"

"I'm surprised he actually did his job when you went on that field trip,", Wilbur muttered, sighing again, "Yes, that's him."

"And why was he here?"

"Why do you sound worried? Did you steal shit from there or something?"

"No, I'm just- He's shady, and I don't like him."

"Trust your senses on shit like that, you're incredibly spot on,", he went to get a cup of water.

"So why the fuck was he here?"

"He... I met him while I was still in university, we keep in touch."

"Is he your fucking ex or something?"

Wilbur nearly choked on the water in his mouth, spitting it out across the countertop and coughing. "Fuck-"

"Holy shit, don't die; it was just a question."

"He isn't- We've never dated, I fucking hate that man with a burning passion."

Tommy decided that this wasn't a conversational path he wanted to continue down, since his brother's 'passion' for some dude he'd been flirting with in the hall was really not something he needed to know more about.

So, instead, he shifted to the more important issue of the evening. "When's the food getting here?"

There wasn't really anything of note from the rest of that weekend, and Tommy was being woken up for school on Monday at the normal time. He rolled out of bed, got ready, got to the car, Wilbur asked him what he wanted for breakfast, and-

"Could probably go for some donuts or something."

He said it without really thinking about it, and the silence stretched on for a few minutes before he looked at his brother to see his confusion.

"What?"

"You don't like donuts."

"I'm- Maybe I want to try something different, is there a fucking problem with that?"

"No, it's- Are you sure that's what you want? Not too much sugar?"

"I can give them to Tubbo if it is."

"Alright..."

"You're the one that always fucking asks if I want something different,", Tommy folded his arms.

"I'm not judging you for it, I'm just making sure it's really something you want; I don't want you to have to wait until lunch to eat anything."

"I'll just go to your fucking classroom and steal some of the snacks you've got squirreled away in your desk."

"Not while class is running, they'll expect I give them some as well."

"Share the wealth, don't be a fucking capitalist."

Wilbur let out an offended gasp, reaching over to shove him since they were at a red light. "I will murder you in cold blood-"

"Capitalist, the definition of the establishment-", he tried to bite his brother's hand as the man attempted to cover his mouth to shut him up, "You need a fucking monocle and top hat, grow out your fucking facial hair and style it into a handlebar-"

"There is nothing capitalistic about education, you little fucking dickhead,", Wilbur gave him one last push into the car door before driving again.

"The school is owned by the government, which means that you work for them."

"You've spent too much time speaking with Technoblade."

"Eat the rich."

"That is not an accurate response to what I said to you."

"Cry about it."

"As soon as it snows, I'm going to dump some down the back of your shirt in the school parking lot."

"Well no, you shouldn't do that."

"And you shouldn't be a little bastard child, and yet here we are."

"I'll crash the fucking car."

Tommy didn't crash the car, only contemplated it as the rest of the normal morning routine played out. He got his plain tea with the donuts, but only pretended to drink it around his brother so he could dump it out in a bathroom sink and refill it in a water fountain.

The donuts were perfectly fine, and he tried his best to not have a small mental breakdown over it as he ate them. Normally, he couldn't stand anything sweet; that'd been a constant since he was younger.

Tommy just didn't like anything with too much sugar in it, that's how things were. Since the spider bite, everything with salt was far too salty, and he was actively craving sugar.

He'd even snuck into the kitchen in the middle of the night to steal some of the sugar cubes his brother had for his coffee.

That was harder to hide than the webs, since it was such a big part of his preferences that it was impossible to not notice.

Case in point, Tubbo stopped and looked at him when he got there. He didn't sit down right away and just watched him eat.

"Either sit or go the fuck away, stop staring at me like that."

"I- Should I go get the nurse? Is your blood sugar low?"

"Yours is about to be low. Because your blood is going to be fucking gone."

Tubbo sat a seat away from where he normally would, being exaggeratedly cautious like he was worried Tommy might bite him or something. "Why are you eating donuts? Are they low sugar or something?"

"Felt like having donuts, I don't know. Why are you short? Miss a growth spurt or something?"

"I'll gnaw your legs off so you're shorter than me."

"Would I really be shorter than you without legs?"

"Hold still and we can find out."

"Think I'll pass,", Tommy took a sip of his water, "Might get you some fucking wooden blocks or something to chew on so your teeth don't grow perpetually into your skull."

"Where the fuck did you learn the word 'perpetually'?"

Tommy thought back to the 'sand eating' conversation with Wilbur, and decided to be merciful to his brother and lie. "Don't know, picked it up from somewhere. Did you get the shit for Sam's class done?"

"Why, did you want to copy any of it?"

"No, I don't need help with his shit. I was curious which option you chose."

"Oh, I picked arachnids."

"What? That was the lamest fucking one!"

"No the fuck it wasn't! Which one did you pick?"

"Ants, because the only thing stopping those fuckers from overthrowing us is pheromones."

"They're too fucking small to do anything."

"A few thousand ants could pick you up and carry you the fuck away."

"They wouldn't, though; I'll step on them."

"That's so fucked up and evil of you."

"They're ants. Not even real ants."

"Right, and you're fucked up for stepping on the hypothetical ants."

"The hypothetical ants are trying to carry me the fuck away and eat me!"

Tommy folded his arms. "And it's what they deserve."

"No, but look at this fucker,", Tubbo got out his Zoology notebook, opening it to the current assignment and pulling out some printed images of spiders.

"Damn, no need to get fancy with it; we just needed to write shit."

"I printed it because I found them neat,", he slid the pictures at Tommy, "This is a a goldenrod crab spider."

"It's white and spherical, not golden or rod."

"They camouflage to flowers, and then they ambush shit like bees and flies instead of catching stuff in webs. They're yellow by default, but if the flower is white so are they. I saw some shit about them being able to live off of tree sap and flower nectar, but I left it out since I didn't have enough time to look into it further."

Tommy picked up the papers with the spider on them, only vaguely humoring Tubbo until he saw the smaller spiders. "What kind is that one?"

"Oh, that's the males; they've got the black cephalothorax, and they're little."

"Huh."

"Why 'huh'?"

"Nothing, I just- I thought I'd seen one of those before."

"Probably not, they're not really common in the city."

"Probably not, yeah."

Tubbo continued going off about spider facts he'd learned while doing the assignment, but Tommy was focused on Googling more images of the spider in question.

He hadn't gotten the best look at the spider that'd bitten him, but he was almost positive that it'd been one of those.

Ranboo showed up at some point in the middle of Tubbo's spider dump, and the tallest of the three decided they wanted to go off about what they'd learned about centipedes at the same time; forcing Tommy to listen to them until it was time for classes to start.

Tommy was stuck taking the bus once school was done, which was fine by him since he was planning on hanging out with Tubbo downtown for a while before heading home.

Was he telling his brother he was doing this? No.

Did he care? Nah, he was planning on being back before him.

Wilbur had already apologized in advance for having to work later again, so Tommy was fully expecting to be home alone even if he did go directly there.

The bus had to take a detour because of some construction or something, leaving them stuck walking to the area they actually wanted to be in. Which was fine, initially, since it was around four in the afternoon by the time they got there and the sun was still up.

And they had a lovely time interacting with shop keepers and being as respectful as anyone expects a pair of highschool boys to be in public.

Eventually, Tommy's phone started ringing as they were feeding fries to some rats outside of a fast food place; startling him into dropping his food and forcing him to move back when the rats rushed it.

"Oh, shit-", he hadn't realized how late it'd gotten, and Wilbur was calling him, "Fuck, he's probably pissed."

Tubbo checked the time on his own phone as Tommy quietly panicked. "Probably not? It's only like... eight, not that late. Plus, I don't think I've ever seen him get mad about anything before."

"You're not in his class, and you don't live with him."

Tubbo had a point, though, Wilbur didn't usually get angry about stuff. At the very least, he didn't jump right to that.

So, Tommy took a deep breath and answered the call. "Hey-"

"Where are you?"

"Tubbo and I are hanging out downtown."

"Why didn't you say anything about it when you checked in earlier?"

"Truthfully, I thought I'd be getting back before you, but we lost track of time. Did you know that a rat can take out a fucking seagull if they're fighting over the same piece of food?"

"Tommy, please tell me you haven't been purposefully instigating the wildlife."

"... I haven't been purposefully instigating the wildlife."

"Good, that gives me plausible deniability,", Wilbur sighed, "Head back, please; it's getting late."

"Alright, on my way now I guess. At the mercy of the busses on that one."

"Keep me updated if something happens, if it takes too long I may just come get you."

"Right, talk to you in a bit."

"Bye."

He hung up, letting out a sigh of his own as he put his phone away. "He's not mad, just wants me to head back."

"Probably a good idea, busses aren't as reliable once it gets close to nine."

"Tubbo, what the fuck are you doing wandering the city past nine in the fucking evening?"

"What are you, a cop? Mind your fucking business."

"I'm abandoning you in a gutter."

He didn't leave Tubbo on his own, both because he wasn't being serious but also because he wasn't very confident that he'd be able to find his way back to the bus stop he needed with the route change.

Realistically, he could take the Light Rail and get at close enough to his apartment that he could walk, but taking the bus meant that he and Tubbo could go the same way and get off only a few stops apart.

It became clear pretty quick that Tubbo didn't know where he was going, either, and they gradually moved from the semi-populated area of shops and restaurants they'd been hanging out near into a quieter area of mostly empty office buildings that only had a few lights on.

"Tubbo."

"Yeah?"

"Where the fuck are we?"

"Good question, I was following you."

"You are literally walking in front of me."

"Oh, yeah."

Tommy put his hands over his face, letting out a frustrated noise. "Come on, man!"

"Look, it's your fault for following me-"

"Now isn't the time for fucking joking gaslighting, it's getting cold out and I want to get back before Wil's really pissed off."

"Good point, sorry,", Tubbo put a hand to his chin, "We could probably just retrace our steps until we see a street sign? Could google it from there."

"Better than aimlessly fucking wandering,", he sighed, turning around and pausing as he felt what could best be describe a tingle in the back of his head.

It felt like something was wrong, but he had no idea what; they were on an empty street, nobody else was there. Tubbo hadn't noticed anything, continuing to walk without any concern.

He did notice Tommy wasn't following, though, and asked what was wrong at the same time a gunshot rang out from the alleyway closest to them.

For some reason, Tommy's first thought wasn't running when it became clear that they were in danger. No, he decided that it was smarter to shove Tubbo into the bushes with him and hide.

Which, with how fast someone came to investigate the rustling of the bush, was probably the better move.

The person had on what could best be described as a cartoon enemy grunt's outfit; a biker helmet with ram horns attached to the sides on their head and black jumpsuit covering the majority of their body. It would have been funny if they hadn't been holding a very real gun.

A very real gun that they were pointing around as they looked for the cause of the sound.

Tommy and Tubbo were clinging onto eachother as the person got closer, doing their best to hold their breath as the person poked around. Tommy panicked as the ram grunt poked at the bush with their gun, and acted before thinking about it.

He pushed Tubbo out of the bush to the side opposite of where a crime had probably just happened, firing a glob of web at the gun that was practically in his face that had enough force to knock the attacker back while jamming the weapon.

Another web was shot at their face next, covering the front of the helmet and giving him enough time to grab Tubbo and leg it. He dragged the shorter boy down random alleyways for what felt like ages until he thought they were a safe distance away, nearly puking next to the bins they hid behind from the amount of exertion.

"Holy shit- Fuck- What the fuck was- What-", Tommy panicked between panting, freaking out about that situation as a whole.

Tubbo wasn't saying anything, letting him freak out for a few minutes before forcing him to stand up straight and promptly slapping him.

"Tubbo, what the fuck-"

He was slapped again. "What the fuck was that?", the short boy asked, sounding more interested than scared.

"I don't fucking know! Some fucking guy with a gun-"

"No, the shit you did."

"I- I hit his fucking gun?"

"No, the white shit; you weren't holding anything."

"I- I don't know?"

"Bullshit, you clearly knew what you were doing. You even did some cringe ass Naruto hand shit as it happened."

Ok, so feigning ignorance wasn't the play. "I don't know what you saw, but-"

"No gaslighting."

Lying was out, as well.

Tommy had been far more worried about the armed criminal that'd been pointing a gun at them than he was about an excuse, and eventually sighed after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with something better. "Can I at least explain somewhere private? Rather than a fucking alleyway somewhere in the middle of the city?"

Tubbo folded his arms, eye narrowed as he clearly contemplated slapping him a third time. There wasn't any more slapping, thankfully, and the short boy eventually sighed with an eye roll. "Fine. I suppose you can tell me tomorrow after school."

"If Wil lets me go home on my own again with how fucking late I'll be getting back."

"Does he-"

"He doesn't know a god damn thing about it, and it better fucking stay that way."

"I don't talk to Mr.Soot, why would I snitch to him?", Tubbo raised his hands defensively in front of himself, "As long as you actually tell me what's up, I won't say anything to him."

"Fuck off, don't try to blackmail me."

"Better keep your word, then."

"I never promised I would-"

"I'll stop in his classroom tomorrow and tell him what I saw."

"No, alright. I promise I'll tell you."

Tubbo walked past him, smug expression on his face. "Good. I recognize where we are now, by the way; bus stop is this way."

"It better be, I don't want to fucking wander any more."

"Well with that attitude, I may just pick a direction and go."

"I will ditch your short ass and take the train."

"Good luck finding it without my help."

"You are the reason we nearly got shot,", Tommy huffed, walking ahead, "I'm assuming you're just bad luck at this point."

"Hang on a fucking second-"

He got home around an hour later, cautiously entering the apartment where Wilbur was waiting in the livingroom. He braced himself for a reaction, staying by the door when Wilbur acknowledged that he'd entered.

"You didn't get bitten by any of the rats you were fucking with, did you?"

"No, Tubbo wouldn't let me get close enough for that."

"Good to know he has more sense than you on that front."

"Fuck you, I've got plenty of sense."

"Pardon me if I am unable to hide my doubt at that statement. Did you eat any of the food you were tossing at the rats, or was it all for the city puppies?"

"Fucking city puppies- Yeah, I ate already."

He hadn't had a ton of what they'd bought, but he'd had enough of it. He wasn't particularly hungry after all of the stress brought on by dealing with the ram gun guy before, anyways.

Wilbur didn't seem to fully believe him, standing and folding his arms. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Why are you more worried about that than me getting home at nearly ten p.m. on a Monday?"

"Believe me, I'm worried about that as well, but I'm not going to throw a fit over it as long as it doesn't become a habit."

"... So I'm not in trouble?"

"Not this time, you get a pass for it,", Wilbur kept going before Tommy had a chance to let out a sigh of relief, "But, I think it's reason enough to properly lay out some ground rules."

His heart sank immediately, and he looked down at the floor. "Ah, right, that's-"

"Not like that- Poor choice of words, sorry. Ground as in baseline; I accept that you're a teenager, and you want to spend time with your friends. And you're allowed to do that, I don't want to hinder your social life."

"Get the the ass of the statement."

"You mean the 'but'?"

"Yeah, the ass."

Wilbur let out an amused exhale before continuing. "But the city is dangerous as of late with all the crime boss shit or whatever, and I want to know when you're going somewhere and where it is you're at. You're only fifteen, I don't want something to happen to you because I thought you were home and didn't think to check in."

"I can handle myself-"

"I know you can, but I would still prefer having at least a basic idea where you are if you aren't here or at the school. You don't have to tell me everything, just where you're at. I'd also like you home earlier than this, obviously."

"And what time were you thinking of for curfew?", Tommy asked, dreading the answer.

"Not calling it curfew, and, uh... Depends on the circumstances, I suppose? Don't want to say sundown because that could be either four or nine depending on the time of year, and I know it's not very reasonable to give you a solid time when you're relying on the busses to get around. Just- Use your brain, and you'll be alright."

"Why are you being so nice about this?"

"I'm not, I'm being reasonable."

"Phil would have a fit if he knew how relaxed you were being about me wandering the city."

"Then it's a good thing he's not going to find out about it,", Wilbur stood off of the sofa, stretching, "Now that I know you're home and safe, I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same, it's a school night remember."

"I'll stay up past midnight watching a Youtube video of paint drying, just to fucking spite you."

"The only person you'd be spiting would be yourself, I'll give all of your other teachers permission to wake you up if they catch you sleeping."

"So I'll sleep in your class, then."

"I've got an airhorn."

Tommy mustered up the wettest, saddest look he could. "You'd really make me go deaf like that?"

"Don't use the puppy-dog eyes on me for something as trivial as this,", Wilbur used his hand to block his view of his brother.

"Ear damage is far from trivial, Wilbur."

"Goodnight, don't complain if you haven't gotten enough sleep when I'm waking you up tomorrow."

"Yeah, go 'honk shoo' at ten-thirty like the old man you are."

"I'm more of a 'honk mimimi' kind of man."

"If I hit you with a brick, you can sleep silently."

"I'm fine without that, thank you. When it gets to the end of the semester, however, I may take you up on that offer; have a feeling it'd work better than melatonin."

"I'll hopefully upgrade to a sledge hammer by then."

"Ever the tycoon, I see,", Wilbur chuckled, disappearing into the little hall that led to their rooms, "Goodnight."

"Night."

Tommy waited until his brother's door was closed to let out a long sigh, getting himself a glass of water and ignoring how much his hands were shaking.

Things were fine, he wasn't in trouble, nothing was wrong.

Ok, well alot was wrong, but nothing with Wilbur. There was really something to be said about him being more worried about his brother being mad at him than he'd been about a man with a gun, but that was better left to a therapist's office when he was in his thirties.

Tubbo sent him an incredibly ominous and threatening message reminding him that he had to explain what happened after school the next day, and Tommy contemplated trying to come up with some kind of excuse before deciding he was just going to go to bed and worry about it in the morning.

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Next Chapter [ nothing yet! ]

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i didn't realize it'd been a month, here's more piderman!

#mcyt #tommyinnit #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #wilbur soot #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #spiderinnit #spiderman #tommyinnit centric

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