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fangweaver2099 · 5 months ago

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𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 3

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound

PART 1 - PART 2 - CHAPTER 1

It had been almost two months since Web first messaged you. As it turned out, you liked not being the caretaker for once. Considering you grew up the eldest of your six siblings, you were the second mom, the babysitter, the caretaker .

Being the eldest daughter was a curse.

You still had embarrassing flashbacks while laying in your bed of your father screaming at you over getting a B in AP physics in your junior year of highschool.

You liked not being in charge. No responsibility, no obligation, no pressure. Web gave that to you.

He’d become a friend as much as he was a dominant. You found yourself asking him about mundane things, restaurants he liked or opinions on your going-out clothing.

He never really broke character, or, well - what you assumed was a character. Suave, domineering with a hint of playful possessiveness... you weren’t entirely sure if you were ready to sacrifice as much clothing as he wanted to rip off you.

Clothes were expensive and you worked too hard to let him rip apart your nice lingerie.

Still, you weren't entirely opposed to the idea of him tearing apart clothes that he bought you. You thought about suggesting it once, but chickened out as he'd already spent a decent amount on you. Asking for more felt selfish, and you would not reduce yourself to being anyone's sugar baby.

(Even if the thought did tempt you, sometimes.)

He had plans for you - or so he said. You got the hint that he enjoyed that you were new and that he was the one ‘teaching you the ropes’, but he took it seriously. He made you buy an ebook and learn about your nerves and blood flow.

He didn’t want you to risk nerve damage and went out of his way to ensure you knew to see the signs.

You had even suggested buying your own rope and testing some self ties, but Web refused. Worried that you’d mess something up and end up losing a limb, he expressly forbade any experimentation that you’d otherwise have tried.

He hadn’t really revealed much of himself other than he traveled occasionally for work. You had about a dozen different photos in your telegram media chat of him in different hotel bedrooms, but he never told you why he was traveling - just that he was.

You still hadn’t gotten an answer out of him of what he did for work. He was more active when he was traveling - during the week he practically disappeared but when he was traveling, you’d get a good extra half an hour or so to chat with him. You got used to the routine and you may or may not have adjusted your sleep schedule to spend the most time with him.

Your roommates were beginning to notice, though. It was obvious, with how you started taking much better care of yourself. You dressed up more - did your makeup regularly, you always walked to work…

You began cooking, for god’s sake, breaking out your grandmother’s precious recipes and putting them to use.

You tried to not think about the improvement of your mental health hinged on a 36 year old man bossing you around and making you fuck yourself silly on a toy he bought you.

Aurora had dubbed you ‘Dorm Mom’ despite the fact that the five of you didn’t live in a dorm. Technically your house was a duplex that was converted to one house for college student rentals.

He hasn’t asked you to use the lovense yet. It was pink and had a weird wider clamp bit you assumed held it in place. You hadn’t tried to put it on, remembering Web’s words.

“No using them without my permission, understood?”

So, obviously, you didn’t. You didn’t expect yourself to be so rule compliant - you’d convinced yourself you’d be a brat or sassy like a kitten. Now you just fantasized about sitting between Web’s legs as he called you a good pet.

You still hadn’t decided what you were - dog, kitten, bunny? No clue - so he just started calling you pet. It was kind of hard to roleplay being nonverbal online. You had sent him a few videos now - happy to take it nice and slow.

He made it clear he was comfortable with that. He was always direct and clear with you. You found yourself adoring his communication skills and learning a thing or two. It was refreshing compared to your singular previous relationship - he… he was sure a teenager.

Clear commands were comforting in an odd way, even if said commands were some of the filthiest things you've ever had sent to you. The commands he gave were easy to understand and impossible to fuck up without distinctly trying.

He made you nervous, but that was from anticipation, not from anxiety of making yourself look like a total idiot.

He'd scold you and punish you if you'd call yourself that anyways, and your hand still hurt from the first round of lines he'd made you write in a notebook he also made you go out and get. Punishments long distance were difficult, but that was a surefire way you wouldn't forget his instructions and rules anytime soon.

It was a Thursday night - Web had told you he’d be around at 9pm, so you’d been twiddling your thumbs agonizing over the wait as you stared at the clock. There were a hundred things you could be doing to pass the time, but none of them seemed particularly fun against the rising concoction of excitement and dread churning in your belly. Instead, you figured you’d clean your room - the stage in which you’d male your grand debut.

It was hardly the first time he had seen you, of course, but it would be the first time he’d see you live. You remembered how the first video you sent accidentally included the messy pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom that you had forgotten about for an embarrassingly long time. He must have thought you a slob. You nearly cried a day after sending it when you scrolled through your conversation and saw it in the thumbnail.

Not again. No, your room would be fucking spotless , if you had anything to say about it.

First thing first, the hamper. Heaving the pile into your lattice-work bin, you trucked it over to the laundry room, the half-faded writing on its handle reading your name to make sure no one accidentally swapped clothes.

Next thing was vacuuming, and not just turning on the communal roomba and letting it wander for a few minutes in your room like the last time you ‘cleaned’. Your eyes lingered on the pink disc affectionately dubbed ‘Kirby’ by the household. Not this time, old friend.

You were a mostly clean person. Mostly. Maybe it was time to get back on your anti-depressants, you mused, picking up another glass to bring to the kitchen.

After a half hour you felt pretty satisfied, your room looking better than it had in… Probably since a week after you moved in. Maybe you were messy?

The thought was interrupted by the click of a door closing in the living room. You winced. No, this could not be happening. They were - were supposed to be out tonight! Didn’t they all have a show to be at?

You peeked your head out your door to spy who had come in, feeling a tad like a ninja without the skills or cool costume or, really, anything that would make you a ninja.

It was Aurora - huffing as she made her way inside. As always, the strawberry blonde had that characteristic coloring, all colorful care-bear themed clothing and highwaisted jeans, a literal rainbow shaped into a person and set loose to run wild. She was scowling, but that quickly evaporated when her brown eyes met yours.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight. The drag show ended early because one of the Queens made one too many jokes about cops and I guess some guy had a brother that was one.” She rolled her eyes, “‘Throwing bricks is assault’, he said. ‘Yeah that’s the point’, the Queen replied. You know how it is.”

“The others are bar hopping, but I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning so I have to turn in soon. Don’t mind me if you uh.. Had something special planned with all of us out, wink wink,” she said while literally winking. You wished you exploded on the spot.

“S-Something special? No-no, why would you think that?” you stammered, stepping out from your bedroom, hands growing clammy and wet.

“Because it's not often you have the apartment to yourself. You don’t maybe.. Have a boyfriend coming over or something?” She leaned forward, lips curling into a grin as she leaned closer.

“ NO, ” you replied firmly, definitely too firm. It wasn’t a lie, he wasn’t exactly a boyfriend and he wasn’t coming over either.

You were just going to get naked in front of him on camera and masturbate.

Now you just had to do that with your roommate a few doors down.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

(everything was definitely not fine, and you could feel yourself getting paler, a bit lightheaded.)

“Suuuuure you don’t. If I hear knocking on the door - or in your room - I’ll just turn up my laptop while I watch netflix.” She hummed to herself, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a snack before she disappeared into her equally brightly colored bedroom.

This… complicated things, but of all the people to be home while this happened, you supposed Aurora was the least bad. She was a heavy sleeper and she wore earbuds when she watched stuff in her room, so it was possible that she wouldn’t notice at all.

Your eyes darted to the clock as she left, checking the time. It was past time. You had been so busy worrying that you -

Shit.

Rushing back to your bedroom, you snagged a towel on the way there, spreading it on the floor as you moved in. There was a risk of you needing it later, and you really, really wanted to be prepared.

Taking a deep breath, you settled, laptop in hand, sitting cross legged on the towel. You opened your laptop, setting it down in front of you and taking a big, deep breath, losing any of the composure you’d gained all at once as you saw the notification waiting.

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Are you free, pet?”

“ I am. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been thinking about the video you sent me a few days ago.”

“ Oh? I just did what you asked, Sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That you did, and you looked so nice squirming with those clamps on. You have very beautiful breasts, Fawn. Are you enjoying all the toys I provided you? Which is your favorite?”

“ Thank you. I am, but I don’t think I have a favorite yet. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

9:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How are you adjusting to the dildo? Can you take it completely to the flare yet?”

“ Same as last photo I shared, so not quite. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:19 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “As much as I’d like to hilt myself in you when we meet, I understand that’s not always realistic. Don’t feel too bad if you reach your limit. If you do, however, I’ll need to get you something bigger to practice on.”

“ I’m happy to keep trying with encouragement. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Aside from praise, is there something I can offer as a reward?”

“ Pics, maybe. I do quite like the praise. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Alright, how about this: You get a picture for every inch you can manage starting at four. That’s twp potential pictures total if you reach all six.”

“ I like that. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How would you like to show me your progress live?”

“ I can try another video, I wish we could just facetime or something. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight, actually.”

“ Oh? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Zoom. I will be muted and you still won’t see my face.”

“ Can I ask why? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:20 PM

9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Why do you wear your mask?”

“ Because I’m a college aged woman posting nudes on the internet. Point taken, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We all have our reasons. Would you like to or not?”

“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Always so polite.”

“ I try. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

9:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It saves me some time disciplining it into you.”

“ We’ll see, I like the idea of being a brat, remember? Just hard to do across the web. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll try not to scare you too much the first time I show you the crop then.”

“ So scary :p. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let’s see what you think when you’re crying and you can’t sit for the next three days.”

“ We’ll just have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:22 PM

9:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get your lube, lovense and dildo. Find somewhere comfortable where you won’t be interrupted. Join when you’re ready: [Zoom code]”

“ Okay, can you see me?. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:30 PM

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There’s my pet. Yes, I see you beautiful.”

Web’s video flashed on, bare enough to give you a generous view of his muscular frame, sculpted torso painting him like some god in human form. A pair of gray boxer-briefs were all that he wore on his bottom half, the bulge of his flaccid penis intimidatingly large. The man was a shower, not a grower. Even soft as it was now, it strained against the fabric and ran down his leg, head nearly threatening to peek out from the leg-holes.

It was unfair how hot he was.

As always, the frame cut off before you could see his chin. Just what could a man like this have to hide, truly? So mysterious.

You found yourself staring for a moment, hunched over in your baggy t-shirt and underwear. All the confidence evaporated from your body - you didn’t realize he would have his feed on.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, struggling with the camera of your laptop.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

The man leaned forward, the barest hint of his chin coming into frame only to be obscured by a simple medical mask. His long fingers typed something out and a moment later his message pinged into existence.

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can.”

Your eyes rested firmly on the mask for a moment, your brow raised.

“Same idea, but mine is easier to breathe in.” You pointed at your own mask, black cloth and far more comfortable.

It was technically made to be worn over a medical mask, after all. You were trying so hard to play it cool, as if you couldn’t feel sweat sticking your hair to the back of your neck. You sit up and back far enough you’re in view of the camera but you can still see his text.

9:30 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Here I thought you might ask me where I got the idea from. I hope you don’t have a copyright.”

You grinned under your mask, eyes scrunching. “I don’t. I-I’m glad you got the idea from me.” Flinching at the stutter, you glanced around the room, one of your hands brushing over your mask and down your neck awkwardly.

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Nervous, Fawn? It’s normal to be. This is your first time doing something like this, isn’t it?”

Sat there, you stalled, before nodding as physically hard as you could - you didn’t want to stutter again. Your hands eventually grabbed at the edge of your shirt and twisted it together, revealing a hint of your stomach.

9:31 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We can go slow, pet. Remember our safety tools. Shall we test them?”

“I- yeah. Sorry. I want to. Just… It feels more real, ” you admitted.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “This will make it easier when I meet you in person. A stepping stone. I want you to feel comfortable. Safe.”

You know he couldn’t see you blush, but you sure felt your face warm, your eyes drifting over his hands as they disappeared to type.

“I know. I trust you,” you finally spoke, voice a bit more sure.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color check. How are you feeling?”

“Green,” you answered, hands moving to finally wrench your top over your body, tossing it… somewhere.

Idly, your gaze brushed over your hips, fingers touching the half-faded marks that you had written on yourself the week before at Web’s instruction.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Still not fully faded, I see. Good thing it was a compliment and not something else.”

“What would something else be?” you asked, again cringing at your stumbling of words.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Some pets prefer degradation. ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’, ‘Stupid Bitch’. You seem like the type that works on praise.”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you prefer?”

Belatedly, you realized that it was probably a terrible idea to ask. You knew you’d try desperately to enjoy whatever he liked.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Depends on my mood, and how bratty they’ve been. You’re a good girl, aren’t you Fawn? Stay like that and we’ll keep doing praise.”

Slowly, Web reached down to his thigh, thick-veined hand sliding across the bulge of his member which had slowly begun to swell and harden.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve barely done anything and you’ve already started to get me hard. Your voice is beautiful, Fawn.”

You swore you felt your heart skip in your chest, shifting on your knees almost uncomfortably. You felt the urge to sit up straighter - it was hard to tell if it was to hide the rolls on your stomach or because you felt lifted by his compliment.

He was almost inhumanly attractive. You swore a man like him couldn’t be real, but here he was.

“I.. Uhm…,” you stumbled over your words, glancing at the toy laid out beside your hip.

9:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How about you start taking off the rest of your clothes for me, Fawn? Show me your beautiful body.”

Web’s hand shifted, fingers hooking the edge of his underwear and dragging it down enough that you could begin to see the neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair leading to his manhood. It lingered there, just an inch away from revealing the base of his cock to you.

In all honesty, how wet you already were was more than enough humiliation alone for you to squirm - he didn’t need to contribute. You reached your arms back, struggling for a moment to unclasp your bra. It was on instinct as you tossed it down and wrapped one hand over your breasts.

You tried to not notice him typing one-handed, knowing it would be like that for the rest of the night.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “There they are, those pretty breasts of yours. Don’t hide them from me, pet.”

“I’m trying ,” you admitted, squirming in your kneeling position. You were hunching forward ever so slightly, eyes waiting for his next message.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color?”

“Green,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to drop your arm and sink your fingers into your thigh.

Part of you was thankful the AC in your room barely worked so it wasn’t freezing to be naked right now.

Taking the initiative for the first time in weeks, you shifted, sitting back on your haunches to display the wet spot quickly spreading across the seat of your panties.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So wet for me already, eager little thing. Take those off too; Show me your pussy, Fawn.”

You tried… so hard to do it quickly - sexy, y’ know? Smooth. Hooking your thumbs under the waistband and tugging, just like he had, but…

Instead of a smooth descent, your underwear caught at your knees, and you froze, shifting back on your hips to try to dislodge them, but that only had you falling quickly off balance. It took both arms to catch yourself and keep you from toppling over, panties still tangled at your knees, and you whimpered, trying desperately not to look at your screen while you smoothly (read: jerkily) kicked your underwear off.

Now nude, you had to take a moment to soothe your panic. You were convinced that, to some extent, he was charmed by your awkwardness - he'd all but told you as much a few times, but it didn't stop your cheeks from burning and your mind from considering hanging up, giving up, and hiding away from the rest of the world for the next year or so.

For a moment you lingered half-laid before rolling back onto your knees, now completely nude. Eager to pretend that nothing happened, you raked your hair from your face, risking a quick glance to the screen, and -

You swore you could see his chest rise like he was chuckling at you. It was almost enough to make you wish he could see you pout.

Crossing your arms, you frowned, all too cognizant of how the motion propped up your breasts for him while he typed.

9:33 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Take those tits in your hands now, squeeze them. Pinch your nipples for me. Do what you would want me to do to them. Color.”

“G-green,” you managed to get out, wiping your sweaty palms over your torso. Taking a deep breath, you reread the order, before letting your eyes drift back up to his video. Watching the broad, built man palm his crotch, squeezing his massive cock through his pants,you couldn’t help but remember that the black dildo was two inches shorter and more than a bit thinner.

He was massive.

Slowly, your hands uncrossed and cupped your breasts. Hesitantly, you tweaked at one of your nipples, cautious and careful. You had always been sensitive, it was hard to even sleep without a bra much less masturbate. Now Web was telling you to… oh dear. Your eyes pinched close, thumb and pointer coming together to squeeze the sensitive bundle of nerves between them.

You massaged it gently as you felt electricity run up your spine, forcing a little gasp from your throat. You straightened your back, tensing and releasing the nipple with a whimper. Your fingers lingered again, knowing every touch would jolt through you like lightning.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You seem hesitant. Color.”

Taking in a sharp breath, you swallowed, glancing between the chat and the camera. It took effort to maintain ‘eye contact’, but you forced yourself to do it, to open your mouth and answer him.

“G-green.”

A pause, and then-

“‘M sensitive ,” you managed to mumble, twisting your head away from the camera.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So it seems. Do you have the clamps I bought you nearby? Maybe it will be easier hands-free.”

You glanced back, leaning forward to read his words. On instinct - you went to type your reply, only stopping yourself at the last second

“I- yeah. I think so,” you shift on your knees and grab one of the ‘secret’ boxes from under your bed where the dildo and lube was stored. Your hips were the only thing in view to Web.

When she turned around with the clamps in hand a new message awaited her.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “So pretty. Turn around for me first, let me see your ass. Spread your cheeks and show me your pussy.”

Your cheeks burned and you were thankful for your mask, but you doubted he needed to see your blush to know how flustered you were.

“I-O-Okay,” you stammered, stumbling over your words, warring between your nervousness and excitement, hands pressing down on your floor to help you turn. Before long your rear was facing the camera, cunt on full display. As you buried your face in a pillow, your arms reached back to grab your own butt. You took a deep breath and pulled your cheeks apart, giving a teasing wiggle as your back arched for him.

You sat there, face pressed into your pillow for maybe a minute before finally turning around, checking his response. The sight of his cock on full display greeted you, properly hard with a hand stroking it lazily as pre-cum beaded at his tip. It was one thing to see it in a picture, but on video… Your hands went up to your face, covering your masked cheeks out of pure instinct.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Such a nice, wet pussy. Are you eager for me to fill that hole with my cum, pet? Show me where you want my cock.”

You swallowed again, resisting the urge to roll over and squeal like you did sometimes when you two were sexting. You were not sexting - well.

Kinda.

Cybering? Yeah. You were cybering.

You moved your hands down to your pubic mound, fingers lingering in your curls before sinking your fingers into the flesh, pulling upwards to expose a hint of your labia.

9:34 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s it, good girl. My lovely Fawn, so obedient.”

“Thank you, sir,” you gasped out, forcing a deep breath and settling your voice. “I-I want to be a good girl.” You rolled your hips back, showing off more of your groin. You weren’t exactly soaked - but you were wet. It was getting worse as you watched him stroke himself. You wondered what it would feel like under your touch.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now put the clamps on, Fawn.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded grabbing at the clamps you had left sitting on the floor beside you. The black tweezer tips were soft to the touch, colder metal giving way to a small adjustable crank that could tighten them into place. The two clamps were held together by a string of metal link, quietly twinkling as you brought them up to yourself. .

Your nipples were already hard, small buds poking out from your breasts like they were begging to be pinched and pulled. It would be so much easier if he was here himself, you thought. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about spasming each time you brushed against them. He could make you do whatever he wanted. His hands looked strong, those arms clearly able to pin you.

You felt saliva pool in your mouth, and you swallowed. Hard.

You winced as the first clamp tightened onto your nipple, the sensitive flesh burning with pain as you adjusted the tightness. Too tight - you let a sigh of release loose as the pain relieved itself, more of a comfortable ache than an outright pain. You liked this sort of discomfort.

The next one quickly followed, you biting your lip as you pressed your breasts together with the sides of your arms to show the clamps off to Web.

“How’s this, Sir?”

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good, Fawn. Now pull on that chain for me.”

You clenched your teeth, eyes shutting for a moment before nodding. Mean. He was mean .

You really shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did.

A hand rose, sheepishly curling a finger over the chain and pulling ever so slightly. It was enough, forcing you to gasp aloud.

“Ah! Fuck .” You couldn’t help the curse, tears beading at the edges of your eyes from the sheer sensitivity.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girls don’t curse. Do I need to punish you for that foul mouth? How about this: Again. Harder this time.”

You nodded again, pulling harder and locking your hips into place to help stifle the powerful jolt of pleasure through your spine. It still had you nearly jump, butt clenching and shoulders shuddering.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again. Color.”

All the while, his other hand had been stroking his intimidating length, swollen veins running along his tan shaft while his dark balls hung beneath, drawing tight and high. You could almost imagine how close he was to his peak, just from watching you.

“Green. Green,” you gasped, releasing the chain as your body shivered.

9:35 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Sweet little Fawn. How about you start using some of that lube now, get yourself ready for your dildo? You want to show me how you’d take my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

For a moment, you sat there, glancing over at the small lube bottle and the black toy. Slowly, resisting the urge to squeeze the dildo like a stressball, you picked the thing up, staring at it.

He was seriously bigger than this?

Instead, you squeezed out a palm-full of lube and applied it generously to the dildo, stroking over the toy until it was coated in a layer of slickness. Next was yourself, though you gave yourself a minute to breathe before inhaling a lung-full of air and nodding. The somewhat cold liquid alerted your senses as you lathered it across your opening and slipped your fingers inside yourself.

You were already wet, but lube could hardly hurt . It’s not like you were used to taking insertions like this, only ever really using your fingers before now - and even then, that was sparing .

You had ridden the dildo a few times by now - but only ever in short, contained clips for Web, and never in front of anybody like you now were.

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s a good pet, prepare that pretty pussy for me. Let’s see how deep you can take it.”

Your hand shook a little as it rested on your lips, dildo in hand to tease along your seam, the slightly curved edge giving it an ever-slightly realistic shape. Teasing yourself like this was agony, you would have far preferred to lay back and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you were eager to please.

“Oooookay. Just.. might take a minute..,” you managed as your hand lingered, nervousness freezing your muscles in place.

You could take a few inches without much issue, you knew that mechanically. Objectively. Experimentations had proven that you could get pretty far down, if you were relaxed and tried hard enough.

You could even film it for him, but to do it while he was watching, stroking his cock openly in front of you? Your eyes shifted back to the screen, the man’s hand tightening around the shaft of his lengthy member. He had said before he was eight inches. This dildo was six, and that was already scary.

You swallowed hard, watching him pump out a few strokes to you, shifting your hand placement so that he would have a better view of your pussy. Slowly but surely, the lube did its work and before you even meant for it to properly slide inside there it was, an inch deep.

Your butt clenched, thighs quivering while the arm supporting your weight behind you shook faintly, an aching soreness beginning to spread.

“I want you, Sir,” you admitted, biting your lip as you half teased him, half tortured yourself. It was the most you could manage, and despite the burning at your cheeks you were proud. You could see by the way his cock twitched in his hand he was too, his massaging strokes growing more rapid.

9:36 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s right, Fawn. Put it inside. Show me how you want me to fuck you, pet.”

You inched yourself down, feeling the dull ache intermixed with pleasure as the toy pressed into your pussy. You let out a ragged gasp, pausing to lift your hips back up, slowly settling back down. You settle into a shallow rhythm, desperately trying to not play the pathetic, anxiety ridden virgin you really were.

Right now, you were Fawn.

You stuttered for a moment in anxiety, rolling your arms to settle your hands back behind you as your legs shivered in discomfort. After a moment, you tried to force most of the dildo into you, forcing a gasp to leave your lips as the aching pressure only got worse.

You could barely take 3/4ths of this damn thing - you sure as hell couldn’t think about trying to take Web right now. Thankfully, your furrowed brows were mostly out of view.

Web was muted, but you swear you could hear the clap of the edge of his hand against his balls, each pump up and down his cock faster than the last. You took it as encouragement, a small smile forming on your lips despite the pain inside you. You were never too worried about pain, it so often came hand in hand with pleasure to you.

Rolling your hips, you half-rode, half-ground against the dildo as you lifted your butt higher, desperately searching for that special nook that promised your peak.

Eventually, a little surprisingly, you did. Your slender fingers and sensitive body could only do so much to yourself, but this was perhaps as close as you had ever gotten to a proper orgasm. You leaned into it, smile widening as you took control of your own pleasure. Up and down you bounced against the dildo, each drop sending it deep inside you. Surely you could reach a new record tonight and earn those rewards he promised, you mused to yourself. Or you would later, since your brain was quickly becoming putty in the present.

As nice as this was, it wasn’t sustainable, not forever. Your legs were quickly getting tired, aching muscles ready to give out. You had to readjust, your torso leaning forward so that you could sit on your knees and ride it that way, hands and knees holding you up.

As your weight shifted, you underestimated just how much pain your thigh would spike with. The adjustment made it kick out, foot striking the bottle of lube and knocking it into your bed frame with a loud bang. You winced, mortified, head whipping around to look at what had happened. Your second mistake. The quick motion had you collapsing on your ass, falling straight on your tailbone and sending a jolt of pain up your spine. You cursed.

Loudly.

Your cheeks burned . You half wanted to dive for the computer and shut it, but his message popped into view just in time.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You okay, Fawn?”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you muttered, not even thinking about it as you lurched and grabbed your aching tailbone. Your whole body hurt now and you were pretty fucking positive Aurora would have heard that. Desperately, you sat up on your knees, looking over the laptop at your barricaded bedroom door.

“I-I fuck. Fuck, I’m dumb. Should’ve expected, honestly,” you were just rambling to yourself at this point as you went to retrieve the slightly spilled bottle of lube, clipping the cap closed and sitting back on your knees. Eyeing the computer, you frowned, seeing that Web had paused and was leaned forward, both hands on the laptop. You glanced down at his text.

9:38 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Stop. Breathe. Don’t you dare call yourself that again, understood?”

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to say. You took a deep breath, unsure what to do at this point. Your hands basically wandered around the floor as you sat back down on your knees. Anxiety was completely eating you up at this point.

“I always fuck everything up,” you mumbled again, moving to pick up the black dildo, assuming that well - you two were done. You ruined the mood and you hated yourself for it.

9:39 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You don’t. You’re beautiful and - fuck - I nearly came. Good girl, it usually takes me a while. Take a moment. Deep breaths.”

He had obviously stopped stroking himself at that point, but his head was slick with pre-cum, his cock twitching with sensitivity as it stood hard as a rock despite the miscalculation. You could see just a hint of it as he shifted in his seat. You couldn’t tell if it was a bed, couch or something else.

You took a deep breath again, wiping your teary eyes. “That’s good,” you sighed. You rubbed over your arm, fingers drawing over the massive tattoo on your upper arm. The fawn’s teary eyes sure fit how you felt right now.

9:39 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Set the dildo aside, get out the lovense.”

You remembered setting up the controls when you first got it with him, but you had been too shy to bring up trying it just yet. To do so live would be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. A simple slide of his finger on the app and the toy would start buzzing harder.

Doing as you were told, you placed the dildo on a towel you had set on the ground nearby quickly followed by your bottle of lube. Producing the lovense, you looked it over, frowning. The big device was like a big U shaped hook, the big bulbous end seemingly meant for insertion. The site called it an egg vibrator. With the sheer amount of lube still coating you, you skipped pumping out another squirt and instead pressed the fat end against your entrance, slipping cozily inside with ease now that you had been stretched open.

The device went deeper than you were expecting, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. What did alarm you is where the smaller hook had ended up resting, the thinner tip nestled right up against your clit.

You got the feeling it wasn’t just for keeping it in place anymore. You swallowed hard, looking back to the camera and clearing your throat.

“I’m-I’m ready, Sir,” you said sheepishly.

9:41 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll start on a low setting. Let you get used to it.”

Nodding to show you saw the message, you hummed, eyes watching him produce his cellphone - a sleek black android without a single decoration, even the case plain and boring. You couldn’t help the snicker that almost left your lips - of course he would have an android.

His thumb slipped across the screen and without delay you felt a vibration against your walls.

Subconsciously, you clenched, grimacing at the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t bad , just strange, awkward.

9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Color.”

You shifted on your knees, ignoring the discomfort still in your tailbone and hip.

“G… Green,” your voice was softer now, more nervous. Every so often, you risked a glance at the door, but nobody showed, blessedly. Maybe everyone was watching a movie together or something.

9:43 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Eyes on me. Focus, fawn.”

You saw Web raise the settings a tad without warning, a small punishment for your distracted glances. You clenched around the toy, sitting back and glancing at his feed.

His hand had returned to his cock, slow kneading strokes trailing the length of his manhood up and down while his other hand held the phone. As if simulating his own strokes, the thumb at his phone drew up and down, sending waves of vibration inside you. It had you bite down on your lip, leaning forward and placing a hand on the floor.

Clicking a button on his phone, the vibrator returned to a constant, dull stimulation before he went to type out another message, his cock bobbing as he released it.

9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Should I turn it up higher, pet? Color.”

“Green, please,” you gasp out, placing your other hand down on the floor to steady yourself.

He turned the settings up bit by bit, sliding his finger slowly up the phone. The buzzing within you grew intense, almost unbearable, but it was reaching a spot you had finally discovered today after so many sessions of sheepish masturbation attempts and picture taking. You felt a deep ache within you waiting to finally be released, pent up frustration building like steam in a kettle.

9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “More?”

“Please - fuck , please,” you begged, your fingers digging into the carpet beneath you, desperate for something to cling to.

9:44 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Language.”

He scolded you, his message was dripping in the warnings of swiftly approaching punishment. Would he push the settings to max, watch you squirm uncontrollably as the vibrator made you buck?

No. Everything stopped, that blissful feeling inside you halted all at once. He had turned it off. You could scream, you wanted to snap at him for his cruelty. You were getting so close and he - he robbed you of your peak.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not particularly meaning it. It wasn’t hard to tell there was no regret in your tone, not with how petulant you sounded.

9:45 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll make you sorry. Turn around and spank yourself. Hard. You’ve said that word six times since we’ve been on video, so you’ll give yourself six spanks.”

You whimpered audibly at his command, begrudgingly turning around to expose your oozing cunt to him.

“ Is… Isn’t edging me enough ?” you complained like you could hear him reply.

Of course you were only speaking to the air. You had already turned around, obedient as ever to Web. You did things without fully thinking them through often times, his daily commands overriding any natural instinct or desires that usually distracted you one way or another. He kept you responsible and healthy. He was good at this.

Your thighs were slick with arousal by now, a desperate need for his cock suffusing every thought in your brain - what thoughts were left, anyway. Your torso collapsed forward, a forearm being used as a pillow against your face while your other arm reached over to squeeze your own rear tentatively.

You lifted your hand high, arm trembling as you tried to aim for your own cheeks without sight. This wasn’t the most humiliating thing he had asked you to do, this should have been easy… As long as no one interrupted and saw you spanking yourself in front of a computer screen, all would be fine.

That was not a conversation you wanted to have with any of your five roommates, especially Taylor.

She was just - judgmental sometimes. Not that she didn’t engage in stuff like this herself in person, probably. God knew she brought home enough girls to your house to convince you that she dabbled in some questionable stuff. She just… Well, you didn’t need your roommates to know what you were doing right now.

Your arm stiffened before coming down, a light clap sounding in the air. You winced in pain, the aim clearly off as you smacked against hard bone instead of soft flesh. You adjusted your aim, wrist trembling, and crack ! Another down, aim better this time. It had you hissing from the sting, surprising yourself at your own strength - or maybe your sensitivity.

You opted to be a tad gentler for the rest, firm enough to leave a red blush but not so hard as to sound like thunder and disturb anyone. You had to be at least a little careful with the noise. You were thankful your bedroom was so far away from everyone else’s.

When you turned back around, Web’s latest message was waiting for you.

9:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re lucky you won’t have to be the one spanking you when I meet you in person. Your inexperience is showing, Fawn. Still, you did well for a beginner. Good girl.”

Web had stopped stroking himself by now, hard cock still in clear view but untouched. Almost as soon as you finished reading his message the buzz began again. It took you a fraction of a second to realize it was on max settings.

You nearly buckled then and there, your knees turning to jelly.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from cursing again. The last thing you needed was another punishment. Instead, you simply collapsed, face in view of the camera and eyes shut tight as your hands went to your sex to help rub out the swiftly approaching orgasm.

Your own touch was nervous, as if you had never masturbated before in your life. This simple little toy was a godsend, or maybe it was Web’s skilled manipulation of both the toy and you, you weren’t sure. Whatever the case, your head touched the clouds as you climbed your peak for the first time.

You were too dazed to speak when it was over, the contractions inside you clenching around the toy as your hips weakly spasmed. Tears from your hard orgasm blurred your vision, breath shot as you took in inhales with stuttering gasps.

9:49 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good pet. So obedient. You did very well today. How did you enjoy my gifts?”

“Yes,” you croaked out, voice tired and worn, rolling your head to the side as you watched his messages.

9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve earned yourself some rest, Fawn. I won’t keep you. Message me when you wake up tomorrow, understood? I have much to think about. I’ll have a treat for you to wake up to.”

You took a moment to stabilize yourself, pulling the toy from your vagina with a gasp and just letting it drop to the floor. You’d clean it in the dead of night… later. Slowly you lifted yourself up onto your arms and nodded.

“O…okay. Uhm.. goodnight,” you said, eyes still on his torso, seeing that he was breathing hard.

9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Goodnight, Fawn. You did very good. I’m proud of you.”

His screen clicked to black an instant later.

9:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - Has gone offline.

So, you tossed the wet toys and lube in the small plastic tote to take out after everyone went to bed, wiped yourself off with baby wipes and redressed. You ended up checking on your roommates and found them all home from the bar, somehow and extremely invested in another Chris Chan documentary on youtube, using the projector as a TV hooked up to Taylor’s laptop.

So, thankfully nobody noticed. You got water, you cleaned your toys and hid them back under your tiny bed.

The first thing you did the next morning was check your messages, a hand covering your face as you smiled and blushed at the image sent.

Web’s torso was on full display, cock angled up so she could see its undercarriage. Along his stomach and past his belly button was a pool of sticky white, stray spurts seemingly shot further up his torso before the main gush was emptied out. The text with it was simple:

7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - You gave me a lot to think about.

7:04 AM - WebRigger2099 - Message me when you wake up and we’ll discuss how everything went.

You could squeal in joy. You did that to him. You did that despite falling on your ass and nearly bruising your hip like an idiot.

You were not in love - who could fall in love with a stranger on the internet so quickly? - but damn did it help you feel good about yourself.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara smut

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gauntletqueen · 6 months ago

Note

isn't banning people based on "vibes" a conservative way of thinking? Idk I feel like forcibly removing people in your community who didn't do anything based on your idea on what's normal & fear that they COULD be dangerous is a justification for alot of right wing politicians & a basis behind xenaphobia.

Its literally a talking point of our oppressors.

First off there's something funny to me about seeing me retweet something on twitter and then going to my tumblr to respond to it anonymously

Second off, you're making big assumptions on what these vibes might be and what reasons streamers and other online creatives might have for removing people.

Here's some examples of people I've banned from my community discord server based on vibes:

Someone who only ever cared about talking to me, and never acknowledging anyone else in the server. They acted far too familiar with me despite me not knowing them, and continuously sent me DMs where they roleplayed things like hugging me. I explained why all of this behavior was not appreciated but they never listened. Classic parasocial behavior but none of it was against the rules. I still removed them based on vibes because they made everyone, especially myself, very uncomfortable and would not listen when told to stop.

A user who made everything about themself. They would derail every conversation to talk about something they did, often unrelated to the current topic, talk over others to praise themself on something, never listen to other people, interrupt others to talk about how they would've done something better, etc. Not against the rules! But it sure is annoying! I removed them because they constantly brought the mood down by making others feel like they had no place to speak.

Multiple users who only spread negativity. Almost always taking worst faith stances on things, barging into perfectly fine conversations with some overly negative angle all the time, sometimes I'd tell them to stop and they'd say it's just for fun, but it's not very fun when all you accomplish is ruining the mood, is it?

Any time something like this happens, Me and my mods make sure to take the person aside in DMs and explain the situation first, make it clear to them what they're doing wrong, and how we'd like them to stop, and if we still remove them then, it's their own fault. There have been plenty of times where someone was told to stop a certain behavior, and they understood and corrected accordingly.

I'm not removing these people because I suspect they might be secretly right-wing, or phobic, or whatever you're assuming when you say "dangerous", I remove them because they're annoying and don't listen, and I don't want annoying people like that in a simple little discord community that I made for people who like what I do to hang out with each other and have a good time. I have to manage that community and if there's too many problems that becomes hard, and it'll just be a less nice place to be. It's not that deep.

#streaming #vtuber #Unrelated but #I have actually banned people for actual server rule violations and knowing they're about to be removed #they post some way out of right field So Much For The Tolerant Left bullshit anyway last minute #it's kind of funny

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babybluebex · 6 months ago

Text

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought.

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind.

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return.

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep.

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily.

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and—

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned.

“Just come on!” Angus huffed.

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!”

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.”

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open.

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer.

“What for?” you asked.

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.”

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.”

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon.

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him.

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.”

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since.

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily.

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said.

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms.

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?”

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled.

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed.

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.”

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.”

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key.

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.”

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option.

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.”

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?”

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.”

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again.

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?”

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked.

“Huh?” Angus grunted.

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?”

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?”

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?”

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?”

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?”

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?”

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?”

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.”

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?”

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.”

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year.

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?”

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry”

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said.

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.”

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.”

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?”

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.”

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?”

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.”

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.”

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said.

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?”

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?”

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.”

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.”

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.”

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.”

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.”

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips.

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?”

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.”

“Ew,” you snickered.

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?”

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.”

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?”

“Excuse me?” you sputtered.

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.”

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?”

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.”

“Hm,” Angus grunted.

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it.

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked.

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked.

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.”

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.”

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked.

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.”

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis.

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19.

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…”

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.”

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently.

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.”

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?”

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.”

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go.

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers.

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers.

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…”

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.”

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.”

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him.

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something.

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.”

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!”

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth.

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly.

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried.

You shrugged.

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.”

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.”

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.”

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham.

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus.

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily.

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision.

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym.

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer.

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—”

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!”

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault.

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air.

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!”

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers.

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.”

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled.

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked.

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped.

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said.

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.”

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?”

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.”

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies.

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.”

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.”

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms.

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?”

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?”

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.”

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.”

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.”

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.”

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.”

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled.

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said.

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.”

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.”

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged.

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.”

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it.

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed.

“Thank God,” he said.

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?”

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.”

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls.

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit.

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?”

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain.

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked.

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.”

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?”

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled.

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly.

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned.

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over.

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it.

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.”

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked.

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified.

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.”

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…”

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.”

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.”

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.”

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.”

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.”

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile.

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?”

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you.

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple.

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.”

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet.

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham.

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him.

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.”

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.”

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus.

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?”

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.”

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes.

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said.

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added.

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.”

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.”

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted.

“No, you will not.”

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned.

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—”

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.”

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused.

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed.

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly.

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her.

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.”

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all?

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled.

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?”

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.”

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace.

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work.

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine.

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in.

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff.

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.”

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?”

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick.

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side.

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.”

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.”

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up.

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—”

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.”

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…”

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?”

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table.

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently.

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you.

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus.

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat.

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered.

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more.

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible.

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded.

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.”

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled.

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you.

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted.

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.”

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!”

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!”

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.”

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?”

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth.

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock.

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.”

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?”

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke.

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—”

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—”

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.”

You shrugged. “No big,” you said.

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.”

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.”

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?”

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up.

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though?

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip.

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.”

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.”

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…”

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.”

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter.

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.”

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.”

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…”

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.”

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him.

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.”

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.”

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile.��

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.”

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?”

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.”

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences.

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of.

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one.

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted.

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you.

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers

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half-oz-eddie · 2 months ago

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I do not want to do discourse but I am quite tired so feel free to scroll past this or ignore it idc

First and foremost I do not care if other positivity projects exist. They can exist in unique ways for unique reasons. It's a beautiful thing. I'm sure people love what they do and they're doing it for fun. Personally? I love what I do. A normal amount. And I do it my own way. Kinley Café is my heartbeat and it's always been a project that I deeply enjoy and that I am passionate about. I ask for nothing in return except the chance to touch other people's lives and make them smile by sending out your orders.

I am so comforted by the amount of love and support I receive. It's motivating and has helped me through difficult times. I have been so distracted spreading joy that I've basically breezed through what is usually the most difficult month of my life.

And yet. And yet!! I have been reported as spam so the café does not come up in searches (it's limited/partially shadowbanned I guess you can say. I constantly worry that this affects people getting notified when they receive treats because I want them to know someone is thinking of them. But I have been communicating with Tumblr about it, so don't worry too much). I have received phishing links in DMs and on the order form. And more recently, a password protected blog that hasn't had any activity in 40 days receives nearly a dozen notifications out of the blue because of a months old post circulating as some sort of gotcha, and I find out someone is telling people that I copied an idea (from myself btw) and sent out anons trying to encourage people to call me out over...stealing my own idea?

And I don't wanna hear "they didn't know it was me" because nobody asked me shit! I didn't show anybody any disrespect. In fact, I was being supportive! I showed love! I took the time out to make something because I wanted to continue to encourage the spread the positivity.

And yet, people made accusations even though I was being kind? Do you want a trampoline since you like fucking jumping to conclusions?

KC has been open for FIVE weeks. And I've dealt with all this in a short period of time for absolutely no reason. I've been nothing but kind and supportive of others. I genuinely and sincerely try my best.

I don't wanna let this taint something beautiful or let anything discourage me from doing this again. But I swear to god.....this shit is getting really annoying and bringing out the worst in me. lmao why am I fighting for my life during this little hiatus? I'm dedicating my free time to creating things, and collaborating with others just to spread love and kindness. I don't want anything but peace and quiet.

What's next? Do I have to keep dealing with dumbassery? Or can I go back to sending out treats and going on about my fucking business? Because I do not have time for this. I do not want all this static!!!

I've turned off reblogs. If you want to talk to me privately that's fine but this has been a little overwhelming and I just wanted to get this off my chest.

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city-tickles · 4 months ago

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you were known for taking requests to find us videos so I don’t understand why you’re mad now that people only go to your page for that?

Hi!

I don’t care what I was “known” for, I never created this blog to take requests to find people videos. I created this blog to meet people, especially in my area. If others don’t care about that, fine, but that is what my blog has always been for.

I answered a few requests years ago, it turned into this and I was okay with it for a while until I needed a break last year because I wasn’t going to be around to fulfill any requests. And what happened? People wouldn’t listen and would request anyway. That was disappointing and I figured if I couldn’t even get that small break, then I should just take some time to myself and come back when I’m ready.

I took the break, came back for a while and continued doing requests until I started to get really burned out. I tried again to be nice about the break and once again, people wouldn’t listen.

I’m not mad about requests as a whole. I get it and I get how someone would just assume that’s all I post. I also don’t feel obligated to do them. But I get annoyed about the lack of respect given sometimes. I’m not saying anyone has to praise me or anything like that, but when someone can’t even say hello or respect when I need time, or just posts “something with feet” How am I supposed to feel? I’m just supposed to give it to them because I’m “request guy?“ How is that fair to me?

So the lack of respect, plus the process of finding and fulfilling requests got harder (Videos not available, no one listening to tags, Tumblr search being the worst etc), plus my non tickling life, it added up and I needed to take a step back. I didn’t even want to be mean or aggressive about it, but once again, people don’t listen, so I have to put NO REQUESTS in big ass letters and even then, people still don’t want to listen. I still get DMs asking me about requests. Am I not supposed to be a little upset even after I’ve set a boundary multiple times?

And after the message I received, wasn’t a message about requests, it was just disturbing, I couldn’t even think about posting tickling clips right after that.

I just want a break from posting tickling clips, which I have been posting for years now. I had a regular schedule for at least 3 years, maybe longer. The requests, I went a long time the first time, non stop and about 6 months the second time, with multiple requests a day on top of my regular posting. And every time I would post a request this time around, or fulfill all of them, there would be 12 more, with some asking for the same thing I just posted. That would tire anybody out.

Right now, it’s nice to not think about “What am I going to schedule this week?” Or “how am I gonna find decent /M or /M art?” Or fill my phone with clips to edit for requests and then be nervous if I forgot to delete it. My brain needed a break from this because it’s been thinking like this for years. Is it permanent? Probably not, but I don’t have to worry about it for a little bit and right now, that feels good.

If nobody comes to my blog or messages me for anything else? That’s okay. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a break, even if people only know me as one thing.

#tickling #tickle ask #tickle request

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asmogorna · 8 days ago

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Okay so there’s this ww artist on ig called like tooth lilys or something and he’s always causing drama in the ww fandom and he mouthed off about your art and now heaps of insta ww fans are like talking about you :| free publicity?

ahhhh so thats whats happening .. lmao thats crazy

i checked out their story, and i sure doooo love how they leave some things out when talking about both situations that they mentioned to make me look worse ..

ok so

warning, yap session incoming

the "will wood in a (miku) binder" thing happened back in fall 2023 when i was still semi new to the fandom and didnt know a lot of things. so tho i to this day i dont think it was that big of a deal, i wouldnt do it today

it was an artwork made for shits and giggles, the context of which i have explained here before. i never meant to imply that will wood is trans and i certainly dont "headcanon" him as that. my curse is that even when joking around i tend to try and make my art look good, so i get why people thought it was unironic. and i know that it sounds like a lame ass excuse, but it legit didnt cross my mind that people would think i drew will wood as a trans guy or smth. legit my only thought process was "funny haha internet thing" + "my favorite thing" = "good idea"

now the usage of his real name is something i am genuinely sorry for, but it was an accident and a genuine mistake on my part. i remember seeing someone mention it casually in some comment section, and assuming that it was ok, since i didnt know he was in any way against it. (i also thought that it was the same name that he used in "the real will wood" in that one section cus it sounded a bit similar).

when i was informed about the fact that he doesnt want it spread around i deleted the post right away and apologized, so bringing it up like something i did on purpose and out of malicious intent is a tad bit .. misfitting, if you can use that word

now the hot topic of the day: my waywood art

i have said this before and i will say this again, how i feel about rpf is solely based off how the people involved feel about it

to clarify: i never drew anything inappropriate or even suggestive with them, the "worst" thing is 2 simple sketches of them smoochin. or. this.

idk if this is what they were referring to when talking about me drawing will wood and gerard way "making out" (specifically. because i think "making out" implies to be more sexual stuff than small kisses). and if so, then it once again feels like blowing things out of proportion

and now the point i want you to get: will wood wouldnt give a flying fuck

like i said earlier, i never drew anything inappropriate, because that would actually cross will's existent and real boundaries. you know, the ones that he stated

im not making some conspiracy theories about him being gay, like some people seem to imply in their inbox messages to me

im not sending a whole ass smut fanfiction to litwtc gmail or something, i dont bother him in instagram dms asking if he wants to fuck gerard way, im not shipping him with people who he actually knows personally and has to look in the eyes of from time to time

im not doing anything that he would actually care about

him and chris have joked about him being attracted to gerard before, and though im not saying that you can joke about everything theyve ever joked about, i feel like in our case its clear that will clearly doesnt care about the implications ? (i generally believe that ww fans would get their panties twisted about less things if more of them listened to what these 2 talk about so calmly on litwtc but i digress)

if he saw that some random teenager on tumblr is drawing him and gerard way (gasp of horror) holding hands, he'd laugh at it max and then move on with his day

people are treating the whole situation like i posted pictures of him from when he was a kid or leaked patreon content or drew him fully naked or anything else that, you know, would actually affect him in one way or another

what im doing is innocent fun which isnt even likely to reach either of them. will wood very rarely checks tumblr and, once again, i genuinely dont believe he would care. and gerard way aint got no internet + he doesnt care x 2

it is weird but rn this is what brings me the most joy, even if its silly to say. both will wood and gerard way mean a lot to me and putting them in situations together makes me happy. i am but a child full of fun whimsy

i wont be posting any more explicitly romantic art to avoid more drama, and i also wont be responding to all the anon messages i received because there are like .. too many of them. an overwhelming amount i'd say. sorry about that

i really didnt mean to cause such a fuss, and i understand why some people might be uncomfortable with what i do

i fully understand why you would dislike my waywood hyperfixation shenanigans, and i dont have a problem w you over that, but treating me like pure evil because of a thing so insignificant is just.. overdoing it

once again, i will be toning it down, but it really isnt the end of the world if i dare to draw will wood and gerard way being a tad bit gay (which is, i apparently need to mention, not me actually saying that will wood the alternative musician is a homosexual gay who is in a genuine for real actual real gay homosexual relationship with gerard fucking way the lead singer of my chemical romance. i think speculating on other people's sexuality and gender identity is boooo tomato tomato tomato)

sorry for the rant and sorry to all who were disappointed by my lack of remorse. come back in a couple years when i turn 18 and stop having fun and artistic freedom

thank you for your attention and i hope i at least cleared some things up to those who werent w me throughout every event where i get involved in fandom drama

bye bye

#asmo goes blahblahblah #my chemical overreaction #idk should i tag this with the will wood tag #on one hand i probably should so more people understand my perspective but i also dont want this to be a better drama than it already is #bleh whatever #fun fact the will wood in a miku binder situation caused me to be anxious about every artwork i post #cus im afraid i didnt consider that people would see the obvious implications that arent actually there #im gonna close my inbox cus #once again #stressful #but yeah. i guess thats it

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73ghosts · 11 months ago

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I'm sure many of you are already aware of this, but in case I have any newer tumblr users, pet bill donation scams are very common on this site. If someone DMs or sends you an ask asking you to reblog some sort of donation post for a sick/injured pet, it is most likely a scam.

Below the cut, I have included tips to spotting a scam, and why I believe the post by 507-on-queue is a scam. @kyra45 runs an excellent tumblr scam awareness blog, and has more information and tips here about spotting pet scams. I have archived the scam post in question on my side blog here.

Here's some ways to spot these scams:

Age of the blog - most scam blogs are a week old or younger, they are often under a day old

Similar urls being used for multiple blogs - scam blogs are typically blocked/deleted rapidly, and the OP makes a new account with almost the same name

The blog bio/pfp are not unique

You can only access the dashboard view of the blog so the post archive cannot be accessed (for example, my dashboard view is this, but you can also visit my webpage view and see my 9 years of post history via /archive lol)

The blog has never interacted with you before

The blog follows you and immediately sends a DM/ask

The DM/ask is overly polite and guilt trips (they often ask you to reply privately to reduce digital footprint)

Images of pets can be found via reverse image search

OP's story is inconsistent or unrealistic

The Paypal link does not match the supposed country OP lives in

Most recently, a scam post has been going around about a sphynx cat named Draven. This has been done using multiple urls, including:

meer-lion (deactivated)

507-on-queue (deactivated)

507onqueue (deactivated)

507-onqueue (current as of Jan 13th, 2024)

Here's how this blog meets our scam watch criteria:

The current blog (507-onqueue) is less than a day old (19 hours at the time of this post). The oldest post:

As listed above, OP uses multiple, similar URLs.

The bio of 507-onqueue is taken almost directly from another user (said user). Due to the same bio being used in previous scams, I suspect this is the same or related person to kappa-tundra/kappatundra (about this scam).

Scam blog:

Copied blog:

Only dashboard view is available.

The blog follows and immediately DMs/sends and ask. From my account:

The ask from the account is very polite, guilt trips, and asks me to answer to the post privately. The goal of being so polite is to win your trust and lower your defenses. This isn't the worst guilt trip I've been in a scam (that goes to the child support scam from several years ago). By asking me to reply privately, they're attempting to reduce their digital footprint (making them harder to google) and disguise how much they are spamming asks.

The information in that post was taken from a private Facebook account (source). I found the Facebook account in question and confirmed that the information was taken from there. I do not want to share the page because I view that as a further violation of the Facebook OP's privacy. For transparency, the images of Draven are not on Facebook OP's page any longer, but there are several other identifiable pieces of information that make it more than likely that the claims of her information being stolen are true.

The ask is inconsistent itself with the name of the cat (Draven vs Indie). This is also nearly identical to another scam ask from user captbridges. This user was using a real GoFundMe for a sick cat to scam.

The medical paperwork in OP's post is for a veterinary hospital in Wisconsin. However, OP's PayPal is based in the Philippines. The country.x= part of the url indicate the country of origin of the account; PH is the Philippines. The local.x= part of the url shows that the link was localized to the United States (making the donation currency USD). (PayPal's information page about country codes).

Stay safe out there and remain vigilant, everyone. If you don't already know them, try to pick up some boolean operators to refine your google searches when checking for scams. The tumblr search function sucks, so this is your best bet of finding information about scams like these online.

#meer-lion #507-on-queue #507-onqueue #507onqueue #scam alert #scam #You all can feel free to reblog this if you want #I normally make posts like this when a scam comes my way #But I haven't actually seen one in a while lol

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

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would i be the asshole for contacting my ex to ask them if they could stop talking about me online to a community that knows who i am? (🥐)

tw: kinda emotionally abusive relationship

bg info

me (24f) and my ex (28) were in a three month relationship three years ago following a whole year of friendship. they were my first partner and i came out as a lesbian to everyone during our relationship. when we were together, they were 24 and i was 20. i was very emotionally dependent on them when i was 20 due to mental health issues and so were they which is probably one of the reasons why our relationship was as explosive as it was. i looked up to them, my whole emotional world revolved around them, and our friendship/relationship was the only thing i had in my life at the time. they constantly asked me "hey is it even ethical that im dating you, im 4 years older, you tell me please, oh i feel like such a bad person", yet, they still continued dating me every time they would ask.

our fights were horrible and truly explosive as they broke their stuff in front of me out of anger, threw things at me and insulted me as stupid, amongst many other things. our fights usually ensued because i would ask them for reassurance and they would start panicking and screaming at me to shut up. to be fair, i would cry every time i was asking for reassurance which probably made them feel scared about losing me, so i consider myself 50% at fault for everything that happened in our relationship, i shouldve been able to talk to them in a secure manner that wouldnt trigger their abandonment issues. our fights were quite jarring and made me walk out on them several times out of fear. yet i always came back and apologized and took the whole accountability, even though i dont consider myself the only one at fault. walking out several times during fights was probably one of the worst things i could have done but at the same time i was simply scared. even when i walked out after our last fight, they begged me to come back, which i did, i apologized under tears, and yet, told them that i cant promise them to stay no matter what.. and left.

we met through tumblr and were in a medium distance relationship. after our relationship, i went to a clinic and had to learn a lot about myself, what i experienced and what i want from life. im in a very happy and healthy place now and since the end of 2021 im with my current partner whom i want to be the love of my life and whom ive started to build a life with.

context

i have my ex blocked on all social media because they used to do hour long deep dives into my blog, even as of recently (i have statcounter installed for my safety bc im paranoid about them sending me anonymous asks). at first i also used to visit their blog after our break up but stopped doing so after moving on with my life. one year after breaking up i temporarily unblocked them and explicitly asked them not to look at my social media (or at least to do it in a way in which i dont notice aka asked them not to watch my instagram stories).

while i dont visit their blog/social media because i dont want to know whats going on in their life, tumblr mutuals frequently dm me stuff like "hey i think you should know that your ex posted about you/shit talks about something that you posted". i havent asked my mutuals to tell me whenever this happens but i imagine they do so because within the tumblr space we exist, everyone kind of knows everyone (so my ex doesnt have to mention my name for people to know who theyre talking about). sometimes mutuals send screenshots of the posts so that i dont have to visit my ex's blog. last ive heard my ex joked about throwing jewelry at me and posted extensively about a tattoo that i got. my ex's behavior makes me uncomfortable and feel just as helpless as i did back then.

why i might be the asshole

im scared that they might be venting because i was more at fault in the relationship than them and that i am unconsciously deflecting. however, i talked about every detail of the relationship and this fear extensively with my therapist, friends, and partner who are of the opinion that i was young, scared, and intertwined in a relationship that was incredibly toxic. im still unsure though because my emotions frequently triggered theirs.

why they might be the asshole

i asked them once to stop visiting my social media and i feel like venting about our relationship that broke off 3 years ago to a tumblr community of friends and acquaintances is kind of unfair. however, i might be the asshole and they might just need the space for venting. i could just ignore the vents and let them heal in their own way from what ensued.

WIBTA if i confronted them again and told them that i want them to stop talking about me online? or would i be a party pooper because every person needs a space for venting?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ghosts-and-glory · 11 months ago

Text

Master post / bio n whatnot It’s kinda a wip for now.

Call me Malachi

They/Them/He | Aromantic & Queer | 21 | Canadian

The Disease Machine Master Post

Bottlenecked Master Post

COTL No Devotion AU Master Post

I do art and writing. Mostly for comics and animation about sci-fi and horror. I have crazy pipe dreams.

Commissions: Soft open. My commission page and prices are a wip, dm if interested.

Dms and asks are open. Please send me asks I love them <3

PROSHIP AND TCEST DNI. I will block you, I will not debate on this.

I’m the art director on the fan made rise project, feel free to ask me questions. Just keep in mind I’m one person on a big team and this is my blog not the project’s.

FAQ AND MY OTHER SOCIALS ARE UNDER THE CUT

Follow my other accounts

@demons-and-diatribe

On other socials

Instagram main: ghosts_and_glory

Instagram side: demons_and_diatribe

TikTok: ghosts_and_glory

Discord: ghosts_and_glory

I do horror. This includes surrealism, unreality and gore. I believe that a main pillar of good horror is consent, I try and tag and hide anything that may be upsetting, please let me know if something accidentally gets through.

I have ocd. This means I never post cognito hazards like reblog for good/bad luck, even if the original is a joke. At worst I may mention one in reference to media but it will be tagged.

I don't interact with people under 16. I may reblog or leave comments but I won't take dms or any other remotely long term communication. This is for both of our safety.

FAQ

What programs do you use?

Usually Photoshop. I animate in Adobe animate and 3D models are done in blendr. I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22” her name is Gertrude after Gertrude Robinson. I edit video with Capcut and audio with Audition.

Can I use your art for a wallpaper or pfp?

Yes, I ask you don't remove my watermark or claim it as your own.

Can I repost your art?

God please no. A, even with credit, it creates a barrier between myself and my art and B I don't want people to be confused on what is my own post or account. The only acceptation is transformative works like edits or comic dubs. But I ask again, don't remove my watermark, provide credit and only use fanart, not my ocs or work I did for others.

How long have you been on Tumblr?

Since like 2016? 2017? Idk a while. I use it like a idiot and like never posted or reblogged anything so that’s why my account is kinda empty. I go through phases of like scrolling it everyday and not touching it for months. I’m bad at social media.

How long have you been drawing for?

Got into it when I was 12 in 2016. Before that I was more into writing and I only started drawing because I wanted to draw my characters.

What is the best way to contact you?

Discord. I check my dms there most often. Other than that Instagram also works, I might ignore you on Tumblr on accident because my inbox is a mess.

Can I join the Rise Project?

For now we don’t have any team openings but you can join our discord. That’s the best place to get up to date news.

#read pinned #masterpost #introductory post #intro #my post

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tonydaddingham · 10 months ago

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it's all well and good to have discourse regarding generalised theories and meta and such like, it's cool to discuss and (politely) debate stuff; maybe you can change other fans' minds by sharing your perspective/analysis, or maybe they can change yours.

what's not cool though? screenshotting actual posts (that can easily be found on a straightforward google boolean search, or hell - usually just by typing the contents into tumblr itself) of takes you don't agree with and subjecting them to focused ridicule. those are someone's thoughts and feelings. that is someone's time, their effort, and their dedication.

what's not cool is vagueing about people's posts in such a way that it is obvious that your post is about them, about that particular post, and not just the theory/theme in general. this fandom is huge but it's also incredibly small sometimes - we're all so often of the same mind that art and fic and meta pass through us like shockwaves. what im saying is that the person that that post is about? they'll probably see it. don't be bullies. a good portion of us have had enough of bullies to last us a lifetime, and it's not needed here.

reblog a post and disagree courteously, patiently, and with compassion, or make a separate post "ive seen discussion on this theme/thought, and whilst it was interesting, i personally don't agree and here's why...". send a polite ask to the op perhaps asking them to clarify some things, because you don't agree but at least want to understand and discuss, if they'd be amenable.

if the bad takes are becoming too much, or are upsetting you, or the person is doubling down despite polite debate and it's pissing you off? that's absolutely valid and you're allowed to feel like that - and if you don't want, or can't, address it politely, and it's too much... block them. block them so you don't have to keep seeing it. rant about it in the DMs to someone you trust if you really need to, but don't publicly make people - on what is (to my mind) the mostly inclusive and open-minded platform - feel like shit because they see media different than you.

don't make people feel like they're absolute scum just because you disagree. don't make them feel stupid, or close-minded. dont stick labels on them that they will likely internalise and make them feel like the worst human being to walk the earth. it's humiliating, it's alienating, and it's going make some people fear having any interest in something they used to enjoy, and that once brought them joy when they needed it most. you personally may not be bothered, but others might - have some respect for them.

god knows im not perfect and ive done it myself, im not pretending otherwise bc sometimes i catch myself being unkind, or feeding into this culture of "different thought = wrong thought", but by god im trying to do better. don't be like me, please please please just be fucking kind

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babyrdie · 3 months ago

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Some of your posts gave me the impression that you don't post about characters even though you are interested in them!! Is there a reason for that?

Okay

Because even though my account is small, Tumblr is still a very public site. It's not like I can make my account private like I can on Twitter (I think Instagram has that option too). And honestly, there are some things that are better left unsaid to avoid headaches. Sure, I have the option to just not post here if I have a problem with attention, but I like the posting system and I like running a blog, so the most I can do is avoid drawing attention to myself. That is, avoid using popular tags (e.g. tagamemnon) and, in general, avoid interacting too much. I certainly respond to people who start a conversation with me (whether it's in the comments, reblogs, asks, DMs, or by tagging me in a game post), but it's less common for me to go to someone else's post.

For example, I've already received about 4 really annoying asks from Odysseus fans (which is part of the reason why I currently don't allow anon asks). So, no matter how much I like the character, I prefer not to interact with posts about him or even post much about him. Yes, I still post, but not as often as I could. And that's because his fandom has given me a headache. In fact, when I see that an account is 100% Odysseus, I block it even if there's nothing that displeases me. Tumblr's tag blocking system is practically useless, so blocking his tag would be ineffective. The only thing I can do to avoid this headache again is to avoid as much as possible profiles that are very passionate about this character and, since there's no option to mute profiles like on Twitter, the only thing left for me to do is block them.

I don't interact much with Patrochilles posts, even though I'm part of the fandom. And that's because I simply don't fit into the "proposal" off this fandom. Not because I felt bad there, we just don't have the same interests most of the time. For example, they usually have no interest in Antilochus, Teucer, Deidamia, etc. Talking about the couple itself is nice, but I would also like to have the opportunity to talk about their other relationships. And I don't really get to do that in the fandom.

There are certain characters that I don't give much of an opinion on because there's potential for unnecessary arguments. For example, I believe that Helen chose to go with Paris, since I rarely see anything in the ancient sources that explicitly states that she was kidnapped. And no, "Aphrodite influenced" isn't really a convincing argument, many times Aphrodite and Eros were used to represent the feeling and not necessarily to state that the person has total 0 agency. Medea also only fell in love with Jason because of divine interference (Eros), so why doesn't anyone claim that she has no responsibility whatsoever for what her feelings for Jason made her do? And yes, Medea certainly did much worse than Helen, but I used an extreme example precisely to illustrate the situation better. So, for me, Helen chose to cheat on Menelaus and chose to leave her daughter behind. I'm not saying that she WANTED to hurt them, but she certainly hurt them by not thinking better. And by "thinking better" I don't even mean sleeping with someone else (Menelaus did the same thing, after all. He's really not one to talk about fidelity), I'm talking about leaving Sparta. And I don't think Paris is worse than her, I think they were both irresponsible. It doesn't make them the worst people in the world, especially when there are examples of people with worse attitudes in the Trojan War (i.e. Patroclus and Hector wanted to dishonor a corpse, Odysseus and Achilles have countless attitudes on the list, Agamemnon made the people suffer twice because of his hubris… once with Artemis in Aulis, once with Apollo in Troy), but they aren't little silly saints without any flaw. I don't think Helen is a poor thing like the rest of the people think, sorry.

But yeah, you can be sure I've had thoughts about characters I don't post about. Hell, I've even had thoughts about Philoctetes. Like, who thinks about Philoctetes? And you can't imagine how many times I think about Penthesilea and just don't post about it. Even characters that have no relation to the Trojan War, like Medea, Jason, Theseus, Antigone, Cadmus. So yeah, I think about a fair amount of characters even if I don't post about them.

I've had unbearable experiences with fandom on fic sites (deleted accounts), Amino (deleted account), and Twitter (now a private account). I don't want the same for Tumblr, so I'm in this situation. If someone wants to be my moot and wants to interact with me, I'm more than willing! But no, I don't think I really want to draw attention.

#Ask #Louiseeh #Birdie.txt

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fangweaver2099 · 5 months ago

Text

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - CH 1 - YOUR GPA

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

You’re still a virgin.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23 @iamtheprincess227 @haveclayeveryday @sphynxfoxslut69 @junehasnotbeenfound @thedevaxer @bunnibitez

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

This semester had proven to be your most challenging yet - mostly, because of your second-choice, genuinely miserable, truly terrible genetics class.

You, Babs and Taylor had literally stayed up all night, desperate to get into Professor Parker’s class. After all, you all had heard that he was awesome .

He played movies on Fridays, he did hands-on experiments, hell he brought his adorable baby to class regularly. You had him last semester and he dressed up as Ted from Curious George for Halloween and his daughter was George.

It was adorable.

The problem was that there was only one other professor teaching that same level and subject - Dr. O’Hara .

You never heard or seen him before, but it seemed he only taught a class or two a semester. Still, just in case, you checked his rate on my professor page and...

Well, it was a bloodbath .

You had honestly never seen a score so low. Apparently, he was strict - serious, rarely offered office hours, and graded so harshly that needing to retake the class was common.

He treated his students like they were stupid , one person remarked. The guy’s a massive dick, another said.

The amount of people who made accounts specifically to rate him was hilarious, if not shocking.

Why your college kept him employed, you had no idea. It seemed like every student that had taken his class had hated him so viscerally that the school had to be aware of just how pissed off everybody was.

Tenure, probably. It was probably tenure.

You all agreed that you had to get into Prof. Parker’s class.

The three of you camped out in your living room the night class sign-up went live. Even if Taylor fell asleep halfway through the most recent season of Demon Slayers, you just tried to sign them up on their laptop. You swore you’d be successful, ready the moment they opened….

You… were not.

The three of you settled with the knowledge that, unfortunately, you would be stuck with Dr. O’Hara, whether you liked it or not. At least you’d have each other, and it’s not like you weren’t experienced in learning on your own.

See, you were a shining example of a woman in STEM. You hadn’t entirely picked if you were going for genetics or bioengineering yet, but you were convinced that you’d succeed wherever you went, and that included Dr. O’Hara’s class, no matter what his reviews said.

The very first thing Dr. O’Hara said instantly made you decide that you hated him.

“You’re in an introductory class, you shouldn’t be getting A’s. If you’re getting A’s, you don’t need to be in this class.”

That, of course, was a lie. Beginner’s principles of genetics - despite the name - had prerequisites. You were here to learn about Proteomics, not what the fuck ever he was trying to explain to you at nine in the morning on a Wednesday.

More than once, you considered joining Babette and Taylor in their weekly ritual invoking him to get hit by a bus.

O’Hara’s only saving grace was that he treated everyone equally like stupid children. You’d heard horror stories about old professors being sexist pieces of shit in any male dominated field. No, to you he was just a regular piece of shit. Egotistical, dismissive - uninterested.

Who hands out four assignments on the first day of class? Dr. O’Hara sure did. You were convinced he didn’t know his students took other classes.

Taylor, for all their faults, took shit from no one, but even they had met their match in this man. You remembered all too well your third class.

It was the very first time he paused, turning to the room of exhausted, caffeine fueled college students.

“Any questions?” Dr. O’Hara asked the room… for the very first time. You could barely see the protein structure he drew on the board and almost didn’t catch it.

“Yes, have you considered you’re bad at teaching?” Taylor didn’t even raise their hand - just leaned forwards in their seat to demand it of them. You were too far back to really see his expression, but you decided it was a grumpy indifference.

“No. Next question,”

Your only saving grace was on the commute you always got coffee. You tried dressing normally for class - ‘elegant’, or… whatever clean girl tiktok label you found people assumed you were. Now you started dressing like you were homeless. Baggy sweatshirts, pants. You wore your glasses so you could actually see what the fuck he was writing. You sure were living the college student life.

Your other classes were easier - so much easier. Most of your free time was consumed with Dr. Asshole and his stupid ten chapter readings and essays.

When classes started, you became more scarce to Web, but he seemed mostly the same. When you did talk, it was flirtatious. Sometimes, you wondered if he was getting bored of you - but it wasn’t like he had collared you. You were just... cyber…sex…friends.

Sure. Cyber sex friends.

About a week into adjusting to your classes he finally brought it up.

5:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Settling into things?”

“ Trying my best. Tired, 1 hr commute. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:18 PM

5:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Isn’t everything an hour away here in NY?”

“ Haha seems like it. ” - Fawnteeth - 5:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Things are finally settling in on my end. We should discuss when we’re finally meeting up.”

“ Oh gosh. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Nervous?”

“ Yes, kind of. I need to think about it - classes are more overwhelming than I expected this semester. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Not a problem. I’m very patient.”

“ Not eager to see me? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Twisting my words against me, pet. Naughty.”

“ It’s okay. This is a lot, honesty - not that I’m not excited too. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If it’s too much to meet in private we can always find somewhere to have coffee before we take things further. It has helped other submissives take the edge off before.”

“ Let me think about it. I really do like you, Web. Don’t think I’m going to ghost you or anything. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I like you too, Fawn. Think carefully though, if meeting in person is too much I don’t want to hold either of us back if we have different priorities. No hard feelings.”

“ I do, probably in public, especially since I’ve never seen you. I’d like to not lose you. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You may not have the same level of experience as others I’ve met, but I would be lying if I said you weren’t special. Teaching and guiding you has been a privilege.”

“ So you’re saying you like my naivety? ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes. Is that a bad thing?”

“ No. Like I’ve always said, I do appreciate the honesty. Let me get over this week and… We’ll figure it out, I promise. ” - Fawnteeth - 9:18 PM

9:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Alright, pet.”

You were instantly smacked by the reality of the situation. The fact he wasn’t just some handsome anonymous guy online who made you feel good - but a real living person who could have his hands on you.

For the first time in a long time you felt… nervous, no -

You were terrified .

Him being pushy made you nervous. You convinced yourself he had the right to be - after all, he established his needs on day one. You just… hadn’t been entirely open about your own experiences. You needed a plan - you needed time.

So, you managed to smooth it into a “ I’m really busy and still don’t feel ready right now ”, which Web thankfully accepted.

Instead, he put the little pink lovense to use. Especially when you mentioned in passing a movie night with your roomies.

8:32 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let me know when you start. Last chance to back out, Fawn. You sure you want to have me tease you while you’re with all your friends?

“ I’m sure. It can’t be… That bad. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:43 PM

You were wrong. It was bad .

You were practically shivering, a blanket bundled around you and pillow gripped tight that you had to bite to keep quiet as everyone else cackled about the movie in front of you. There was a new movie everyone demanded to watch. It was all childish fun, perfectly normal until you stuck a vibrator up your pussy. You would rather die than let them know you did this.

(it felt especially fucked up that you were on the verge of cumming while watching My Little Pony.)

He knew how to torture you. It was like he was there watching with you, choosing the perfect times to increase the settings. He had let the first twenty minutes go by without a touch, letting you adjust to the feeling of the egg inside you. Only when you had almost forgotten its presence did he turn it on, forcing you to make a startled gasp that you had to play off as a reaction to the movie, your cheeks beet-red and tingling.

It was turned off more than on, sometimes letting it buzz gently inside you for minutes at a time only to shock you with an intense burst of waves that had your toes curling. Half way through the movie you looked down to see a message ping you.

9:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “How are you doing? Color?

“ Is that the best you’ve got? Green .” - Fawnteeth - 9:21 PM

The regret you had for sending the message was instant, but you really were a glutton for punishment.

You damn near came then and there, power maxed out as he set a cruel rhythm that simulated a thrusting insertion. It only took you two minutes to have to excuse yourself into the next room. Sweat stuck your hair to your neck and you were so glad you decided to sit away from everyone else wrapped in your duvet.

“ yellow yellow yellow oh my god ” - Fawnteeth - 9:23 PM

The buzzing stopped in an instant and you saw him typing.

9:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Go somewhere private and show me what I’ve done to you while you take a break, pet.”

“Yes sir” - Fawnteeth - 9:23 PM

You snuck back into your bedroom, leaning on the door in effort to keep it closed while you pulled your sweatshirt up and sleep shorts down.

Your panties were soaked, even your shorts stained dark with your arousal. With one hand keeping your shirt up to show off the matching bra and panties he bought you at once, you sheepishly snapped a picture in front of your bathroom mirror, a dark mark on display for him.

9:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Such a good girl. So wet for me. I don’t think I could resist tasting you if you were in front of me. I bet your cunt would be delicious.”

As agonizing as some of the games he played with you were, you couldn’t deny his compliments weren’t worth the potential shame.

He let you go after that, leaving you to try and scramble for the plot of the movie you had hardly paid attention to the past hour. You brushed off any comments of your forgetfulness as exhaustion.

After all, you had class early the next day.

Your first assignment back from O’Hara was a fucking D.

The entire sheet was smothered in red, making it apparent how inept at the work you “should” know. It was humiliating. You really didn’t enjoy being humiliated by that stupid old man. Revisions raised your 67 to a 72.

(You had never gotten a C in your whole god damn life, let alone a fucking D.)

You cried. Pathetically, sitting in the middle of your room, you cried .

Your GPA was single-handedly going to be ruined by this one fucking professor

You’d given up everything for this chance to do what you actually loved and one egotistical asshole might ruin it. Maybe your estranged father was right - you should have stayed in nursing school. You’d be an RN by now, not a college freshman. At least being a geneticist (or biomedical engineer) made good money. Student loans weren’t a problem yet ..

Your only saving grace was he did everything via the student portal and you sat with Taylor and Babs at the back of the classroom so you never really had to look at him, just hear his voice and watch the whiteboard.

He wasn’t very good at explaining literally anything, often rambling on about the semantics of a lesson or discussing the practical use of certain proteins and DNA structures. You wanted to rip your hair out when he would say “the thing” practically twice a class.

Who the fuck let this man teach?

He knew what he was talking about - to himself. His diagrams and concepts on genomes were correct. He was a doctor of genetics - so it wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was talking about… but it didn’t mean he could teach others what it was.

You’d had bad teachers and were no newbie to learning on your own, but even still.

A part of you wanted to cry to Web about it, but you didn’t. You’d rather him be that relief from your frustrations and commute than another person to complain to about it. You two had a very specific relationship and it was best to keep it that way.

On Sunday Aurora put it upon herself to improve everyone’s mood. Beach trip to the shore tomorrow, so Princess Carebear declared.

You did want to show Web the new swimsuit you got, it was August and plenty warm enough to go swimming on the Jersey shore… you bought a strappy bikini with him in mind.

It was pink and cheap. It made you feel girly. You even shaved your upper legs, ignoring old memories of your mother telling you only whores did that.

You were not a whore, just a girl with… a… master? Dominant?

(he said you two were exclusive. that meant something.)

You had gotten so casual with photos you included your tattoo more than once, not knowing the disaster about to be unleashed on your life. The teary eyed fawn smothered in roses on your upper arm was your prized possession and your biggest identifier.

Web never commented on it, you forgot it existed more often than not. After all, it was a gift to yourself. You told the tattoo artist you wanted your innermost self on your sleeve. So…a terrified fawn with big droopy eyes.

Prey.

You didn’t think about your tattoo when you sat down in front of your mirror and snapped a few pictures trying on your new bikini. Your self confidence issues flared, but part of you knew Web’s words would fix it. He always said the sweetest things. He made you feel pretty.

You didn’t need to improve your own self esteem if he could drill it into you, which he seemed more than happy to provide.

It was something you two had talked at length - he wanted to build you up. Some submissives needed to be torn down, released, allowed to be an object or a hole. You wanted to feel special, like a prized… pet.

You were a white hart; a dove, a unicorn. Something to be molded and groomed. You played at princesses as a little girl. Beauty and the Beast had been your favorite, it still was.

Web was happy to oblige, he made it clear he enjoyed seeing you flustered and being the one to covet you like a prized pet. He however made it clear that he had high expectations for you.

(It was your responsibility to tend to what he owned after all.)

You picked your favorite picture, it put emphasis on your cleavage, pushed together ever so slightly using your arm. You even tugged the bottom straps up to make your hips and thighs look bigger. You adjusted everything back to normal once you took the pics, biting your lower lip as you sent them to Web with a flirtatious heart emoji.

7:05 AM - WebRigger2099 - “Look at you, little Fawn; So delicious. You make me want to hunt you down like a wolf and tear that cute outfit off of you.”

Mission completed, you tossed your beach clothes over your swimsuit, a tight white sleeveless tee and jean shorts. You threw flip flops in your knapsack and put on your sneakers. You forwent your typical homeless chic and your messy hair in favor of something more appropriate for the beach.

Instead, you styled your hair cute. You put a pink scrunchie your baby sister Franny had gotten you when you were 17 in your hair. You missed her, soon she’d be out of high school and then maybe you could try reaching out. You didn’t want her to get punished.

Truth be told, you missed your whole family, shitty dad and pushover mom included.

You didn’t text Web in class. After all, he had a tendency to shift conversations to the suggestive - you didn’t exactly talk about the weather, nor did you have that much in common.

It felt nice to always have an idea of what your talks would be. It was such a contrast to navigating the rest of your life.

It was nearly 8:20 when you were finally out the door with Taylor and Babette for class. You three took the subway then caught a bus, then two city blocks and then across your college campus.

It was Monday. So your first class… was beginner’s principles of genetics. Now Taylor’s slow walk of exhaustion made sense. You considered trying to talk to Dr. O’Hara about your grade. Taking 4 points off because you didn’t “fully” explain something was fucking ridiculous. You explained your reasoning but kept it succinct. You could only explain biochemicals for so long.

How much could someone write on the components of a DNA molecule?

Apparently more than you did, according to Dr. Asshole O’Hara.

You tried to not think about it as you scrolled instagram on your phone. Your feed was mostly summer vibes at this point of the year, but cottagecore was coming back in style. You often followed too many Japanese dog instagrams… but they were so much cuter than regular dog instagrams.

You found yourself pausing to reply to the roommate group chat text about where on campus you all were meeting up as you strode into the classroom ten minutes earlier than usual. You often came in with like seven other people - but you, Babette, and Taylor were the only students in the classroom.

You didn’t notice Dr. O’Hara, or how he was staring at your bare arm and your little teary eyed doe. You just reassured Aurora that driving in the city wasn’t that bad as you resumed walking to your seat.

Taylor groaned as they sat down, tossing the book bag they’d been using since the sixth grade on the floor and pulling their sticker-smothered laptop out. Babette sat down next to you, her jansport on her lap as she pulled out her tablet. Your own laptop was a second-hand Dell that you had taped the edges of to keep it from falling apart - it was easier for you to take digital notes.

When you sat, you considered actually approaching Dr. O'Hara - you wanted to know what his expectations actually were, but when you glanced at the podium… he was missing.

You swore he was just there, standing, brooding like always. You shrugged and went to retrieve your own laptop. You weren’t often this early to class, maybe he came and left till 9:00 on the dot. He seemed like the kind of person to do that.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara

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