#<- bc i often see posts i wanna tag as this fic so i want a tag for it

[ofpd]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables - All Media Types

Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire, Enjolras/Patria

Characters: Enjolras, Grantaire

Additional Tags: Canon Era, BDSM, Submissive Enjolras, Sexual Fantasy, Praise Kink, Discipline, Restraints, Orgasm Control, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Aftercare

Word Count: 8,543

Summary:

“I belong to my mistress in body and soul,” Enjolras said seriously, “but her nature is such that she is unable to directly communicate her desires to me.” Grantaire’s mind stuck on one baffling word in Enjolras’s sentence. “Your mistress?” “Patria,” Enjolras clarified, waving a dismissive hand, as if Grantaire ought to have understood implicitly. - Enjolras makes an unexpected request of Grantaire.

a gift for the wonderful @koheletgirl <3

[babybluebex]

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. 

[cursingtoji]

🎙️ just saw your post asking about blog recs…step up to the stage bc i need some!!!!

BLOGS RECOMMENDATION <3

— mostly jjk, but also chainsaw man and aot

*taping the mic* okay here are my nominees with some fics recomendations as well

disclaimers!

lemme start saying so plot is everything to me, pwp can be hot but i'll hardly remember it afterwards, that being said here's some writers that can do both great plots and hot scenes.

also while digging i realize i wasn’t following some of those and if you noticed im sorry im dumb but i truly love your writing.

i tried to tag every active blog i could remember but it’s possible i forgot a few since i’ve been reading more jjk recently. if i forgot you im so sorry please don’t take offense.

many blogs i loved were deactivated, rest in piece great works they had.

everything i read i reblog under the tag #recs

@thekillingmoonmoon ofc moon is the first one i think when the topic "best writers" come up, i freaking love her and everything she does its not even fair to pick one thing so im picking 3, this super passionate toji work that i re-read at an alarming frequency (which btw i consider my own personal gift). yakuza choso and yuki aka the hottest duo ever. the cherry on top is her kishibe series (just realized i gotta catch up on)

@rinhaler - luxe is def on my top 3, she comes up with very organic scenes. even if it's a simple plot she can develop it so originally. I recently read her underground fighter!sukuna and i'm still thinking about it.

@laudthingcat has the best headcanons in the jjk fandom hands down, it’s the perfect dose of hot funny and cute, pick anything from her masterlist it’s guaranteed you’ll have a good time reading it. when you moan their name in your sleep in particular gives me butterflies

@meownotgood is obviously the best aki writer out there, you can see the love for aki in their words and how they write him so well and so into character. arrival in tokyo is truly a masterpiece, they also have a +100k words series i've been wanting to read for a while but i want to rewatch chainsaw man first hehe, i'm 100% sure is fire tho.

@kentoangel roma writes choso like she's in love with him and you can tell. shes always on my for you and even her snippets are *chefs kiss* special kudos to stepbrother!choso

@kentopedia i just realized i'm assigning a writer per character and nanami is definitely rylie's. the domestic lovely way she writes him makes me forget canon.

@tojisun another blog that is very often on my for you page. cannot talk about toji fics without bringing up sun, everything she writes about him has me furiously nodding. not to mention simon and konig, just talking about them makes me wanna run to her blog and binge read everything

@chocochipsushi 's bodyguard toji is unforgetable to me, i wish i lost my memory so i could read it all again for the first time. bodyguard toji is the definition of living rent free in my mind, whenever i have to deal with annoying coworkers i immediately think “bodyguard toji would not allow them to talk to me like that”

@suget one of the greatest geto writers for sure, they have so many geto works, i was going through their blog to find the one i read more recently and there was so many others i haven’t seen! another writer i could very easily spend a whole day binge reading. btw this cult leader one was recommended to me and i fell in love with it <3

@staryukis has the cutest gojo drabbles

@tonycries brooklin baby was recommended to me by moon and it had me by the neck! also they have many other works im hoping to read soon as well

@mommypieck isayama created reiner but they created subby reiner

@titan-fodder ‘s the tinniest notion The Best Reiner fic in all the existence of the universe (tw: stepcest kinda?)

@nanaslutt mma!toji made feel every emotion possible so intensely

[dandelionflowery]

Intro post!

(breast cancer awareness post here/the legends of tumblr here, variations here and here , alt link for number 7/arch nemesis Cynthia here) [the two topics are wholly unrelated]

HII!!

My name on the internet is Dandelion, but you can call me whatever you like honestly. It's so hard to find a good name around here, the fae keep stealing them

I use any pronouns, online people default to they/them, IRL people default to she/her, you can use whatever you feel like!

I'm aroace 🧡💛🤍🩵💙 and my gender is up to interpretation lol

I'm 16 and I live in France but I have both French and American citizenship (so i do speak both french and english)

I have both scoliosis (diagnosed, 45°) and probably dyslexia (not officially diagnosed but all the internet tests I did were screaming at me to go get an official diagnosis- as has life lol) and those two really hate each other who deCIDED SCOLISOIS SHOULD BE SPELLED THE WAY IT IS (if i spell it correctly be aware that either I copied it from somewhere, or i thought about it for WAY too long, or it was a monkeys on keyboards thing)

I created a blog just for reblogging shit (aptly named @dandelionflowery-reblogs) but even with that I can't promise to tag stuff correctly on either blog...

I'm not often super active on here, at least not regularly, mostly because I have way too many classes but sometimes I go absolutely insane and spend like an entire day on here (oops)

actually i'm most active on here I think now lol

~~☆~~

I like:

- Harry Potter (Drarry, Deamus, Romione, Linny are my main ships but there's a decent chance you could get me to like a specific portrayal of just about any pairing lol) [also fuck jkr]

- The Marauders (WOLFSTARRR! Also Jily and aroace Peter and maybe Remadora. Same thing as before: open to other pairings [I know of and appreciate the ships with the girls but usually I'll lean towards the first ones mentioned actually I'll lean towards wolfstar with background Jily and aa battery Peter)

- Reading and books in general

- Fanfics, fanart!! (Both writing/drawing them and reading/simping for them)

Speaking of which, I have a side blog that's actually technically marauders themed! @mybrain-fanficedition

- Interactions on here!!

- there's probably some other stuff I like but I can't think of anything rn

~~☆~~

I don't like:

- Following from above, I said I was open to pretty much any pairing, ... I lied lol

Idk what jegulus did to me but i just don't like it for some reason (jegulily? lovely. jily? fantastic. jegulus? less.)

- Also the usual list of if you're pro-genocide, homophobic transphobic uh racist, pedophile or just a generally mean person

~~☆~~

I like talking to people even if you don't know what to say just say hi!

Also I have other social media, come find me if you want!

@/flowerydandelion, @/dandelionfloweryart and @/wands.swords.and.books on Instagram!

On Ao3 I'm like 90% sure it's DandelionFlowery and uh probably similar usernames on Discord and Reddit [though I'm not often active on there]

Wait if I link my ao3 that means i need to actually post my fics lol

Leave comments if you read my fics, I love feedback!! (or just leave kudos, it makes me irrationally happy lol)

~~*~~

tags about my current wips featuring really bad summaries:

#third time's the charm- Lily

(not going to be the actual title i think but first i have to write it, we'll worry about titles later)

Lily decides canon sucks and she's going to do something about it

#our broken hearts- an ode to wolfstar (this one is subject to change bc that title is way too sappy for me)

Sirius dated Peter. And Marlene. And Lily. And James. And then Remus?

~~*~~

totally normal link trust me :)

if you still trust me (and why shouldn't you?), here's the ULTIMATE PRIDE FLAG lol)

let's see how trustworthy you think i am

wanna see some stuff i wrote? (warning, a friend said it took them half an hour to read just the main bit lmao)

an apology 1 | 2

useful tumblr post about hobbies

SNAIL CROSSING SNAIL CROSSING SNAIL CROSSING

~~*~~

side blogs: @x-lovegood @xenophilius-quibbler (Xenophilius Lovegood rp) @sybilances (Sybill Trelawney rp)

@antheia-anthousai (nymph oc)

@mybrain-fanficedition (as mentioned above)

@am-i-a-crab (crab army!!)

+ another gimmick blog but i'm not saying which one >:)

[lonelychicago]

temptation tuesday

Rules: share something about an idea you have/something that's speaking to you/an au you'd like to see and are considering writing/etc. etc. Basically anything that is tempting you away from your current wips!

tagged by the lovely @buddiearemydads

chimney can't keep a secret fic: so eddie and buck want to propose and somehow chim finds out and he has to keep BOTH their secrets as every proposal goes wrong/plans get changed, and he's losing his mind bc buck and eddie are idiots and he really hates them. and like maybe buck goes to maddie's to ask for advice and he's so excited and only chim is there but he can't wait and he just has to tell someone he's gonna propose to eddie !!!! and chimney is like you fucking idiot why would you tell ME and then chimney walks on eddie admiring an engagement ring and he's just— he's at his limit. these two idiots will be the end of him.

loss of hearing fic for my bthb card! @bigfootsmom gave me the amazing idea of buck suddenly experience hearing loss after a call and just !!!!! i'm so excited for this fic and want to start writing it as soon as i can

the soulmates au i've been talking about/planning with @buddierights that au is going to be so good and ahhh i wanna write it so bad!!!

the grey's anatomy au with bartender eddie and surgical resident buck. if you're watching season 19 of grey's, think mika and helm but make it buddie <33

also!!! bc i love bartender eddie so much!! i've been thinking about a bartender eddie x bodyguard buck working together at a bar and having this kind of banter at work and just !!!! i have so many ideas for that one and i think about it often but i've never written it or started it even.

the astronaut buck au with eddie working at the control center and being buck's only lifeline to earth??? idk if im gonna write that one but yeah <3

astronauts buddie fucking in the spaceship and then having an awkward morning after bc oh shit im in love with you and we just had a one night stand but also there's nowhere else to go and this is killing me, what am i supposed to do now.

brooklyn 99 au?? i’ve been undercover for months/years and i know i told you not to wait for me but i’m still in love with you and it’s killing me

You live across from me in our apartments and we smile when we see each other but we don’t really know each other and oh you’re the stripper at my friend’s stag do/hen night fuck this is really uncomfortable STRIPPER AU

video going viral. buck and eddie are arguing on a call and one patient records them and posts the video. everyone thinks they're a married couple???

free hugs. buck is a firefighter who offers free hugs and eddie takes him up on that after a particular hard therapy session. touch starved eddie. he keeps coming back everyday until buck breaks down and asks him out.

tagging: (no pressure) @cowboy-buddie @buddierights @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @alyxmastershipper @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @fatedbuddie @destielbuddiepipeline @911onabc @spaceprincessem @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @souschefdiaz @comaboybuck @bigfootsmom @lovebuck @dollhousejee @shortsighted-owl @messyhairdiaz @hippolotamus @maygrantgf @swiftiebuckleys @bekkachaos @ebdaydreamer @loveyourownsmiilee @jobairdxx and anyone else who wants to!!

[i-have-dots-in-my-brain]

ayup mates, its me (that one fucking guy that shows up in your fever dreams to offer you garlic bread then fucks off into the void) (i think you need to get a therapist btw)

Call me dots or dot (not correct but when saying something belongs to me you use "dot's". idk why don't ask me)

My cara page (for art): https://cara.app/ihavedotsinmybrain

They/them she/her it/its ( welcome to the mad lab we do experiments with the funny goofy hjinks with the genders here)

TAG GUIDE : my art (self explanatory), dot's thoughts (mad ramblings) (extra note, there are two versions of dot's thoughts, the other one is with the phone version of ' so you can go look for that if you wanna see me posting from outside the comfort of my room and computer), dot’s travel journal (me on holiday), my persona (obviously just my persona) *prone to updates

dumbass who likes to draw ocs and shit. (posts like there is no tomorrow but also like i have all the time in the world) (oc x canon stuff also) (some fanart ig)

if you wanna find my (mostly serious) art, check out @dots-in-my-head (send me asks and dms on this blog) also i have started putting fandom stuff there too so if you want to get my fandom doodles you can look to there as well

still questioning sexuality but currently aro/ace? (idk i'm not in a rush lol) (i WILL dabble in the arts of questioning me sexuality on internet if you got problems with that shoo)

my loveley husband (@octoxxt, pls ignore this blog dude its embarrassing)

why do you need to know my age, ‘you a cop?

will not draw smut or NSFW bcs i will start howling with racous laughter and melt. (i don;t even read smut in fic dude what do expect me to be able to draw im a cartoonish obviously anime style inspired semi-realism but not really shitty doodle artist you put your hopes too high if you think i can draw a dick without making it look like a piece of middle school desk graffiti)

i've got a bit of a dirty mouth but everything is pretty vanilla . (i make edgy dumb jokes sometimes, but it's not my actual personality peace 'n love on planet earth okay) (any time i say i wanna kms IT IS A JOKE) (most of my posts are /srs i will mark it if its a joke i know the pain of not knowing if it was a funny joke or not i gotchu other autistic peeps)

please talk to me god i am lonely (i am serious about this i love it when people rb and scream in the tags it genuinely makes my day) (send me asks send measkssendmeaskssendmeasks—)

Absolute art machine(whether the art is good or not is a big question that i am not ready to answer) makes shitty animations sometimes idk.

Uses lol too much. Chinese, knows mandarin (translate the random messages for maximum brain damage) i don't know simplified but i do know traditional (please talk to me i need to practice my chinese reading skills) am i a furry? idk but if you're mad about it you can fuck right off (i have a couple ocs and my darling fursona)

am currently inbetween fandoms, fandoms i am (kind of) active in are hetalia, scp, dnd, genshin, pjo, bg3, apothecary diaries, jrwi riptide and csm (list is prone to updating because fandom is my support system) (you wont see my art for most of them but the brainworms are there and sometimes i let them take over)

old fandoms or the fandoms i lurk in (i visit them often): eddsworld, demon slayer, pokemon, vocaloid and wof. (also prone to updates as i remember stuff)

note : i am still in school and have a life outside the internet so stuff will be delayed (which is why i am only kind of active) (i go missing sometimes i am not dead life is just lifing for me)

Do not say anything about how cringe I am I know trust me (it’s a coping mechanism lol)

if you're concerned, you're very right to be. I am very incoherent (most of my life updates have actually devolved into cries for help, please talk to me)

also if you don't like my art or ships just leave(any critique about anything i make shoots a bazooka straight into my heart and behind the screen i crumble into a cartoonish pile of ashes and bones as i stare at the screen blurred by tears) (unless I ask for critique then i brought this on myself and i’ll walk it off don't worry)

(Both of my personas)

My flags (might be updated)

[bonesandthebees]

Ok, so, I've never watched any of the qsmp streams, but I read your rambling about it and read your one shots abt it, and uh do you have any advice on how to get into watching the streams? Like where do I start? How to catch up on missed lore? Stuff like that

well there are a lot of different POVs you can choose to catch up on and which one(s) you choose will definitely affect your understanding of what's going on. if you want to just catch up on the primary major story beats overall (federation lore, main egg lore) this channel on youtube has made 3 videos so far summarizing the lore as it goes on. I haven't watched these videos myself so I can't say how accurate they are or if they leave anything important out, but I've heard positive things!

now if you wanna catch up on more individual lore/character dynamics and all that then you're facing a bit more of a challenge. I believe quackity has most of his qsmp vods uploaded on his vod channel so you can definitely check those out for his story stuff. if you wanna understand my fics better wilbur has the smallest number of qsmp vods out of the cc's at least somewhat tied into the storyline so it shouldn't be too hard to catch up on his stuff. his vod from day 1 of the qsmp has one of the funniest moments from any wilbur stream ever (yes I am referring to that moment he was talking to max) but I don't think you need to watch a ton from any of the day 1 POV's after the first hour or so.

while phil is the pov I watch the most for qsmp, he's definitely less involved in the plot. but unlike what I keep seeing some people on twt and tumblr say, he DOES participate in the rp and does care about the lore. he just doesn't go out of his way to get super involved in it and likes making 4th wall breaking jokes. but yeah if you're looking for more lore based stuff, phil might not be a great pov to watch as your primary.

now bad is the english speaking cc most involved in the heavy federation lore stuff, so his vods are definitely good to check out if you're looking for an english speaking cc to watch. jaiden's also definitely tied into it and has her own very interesting plotline going on atm involving the federation, but she doesn't stream as often so there are a few more gaps with her compared to bad who's been daily streaming for months now.

now for the cc's who don't primarily speak english, it's definitely a bit more of a challenge to watch those POVs if you don't speak the cc's language, but when many cc's are in a group they'll usually switch to english since that's the most common language on the server. also there's the translator that most of them have up on their screen, but it's not super accurate and a lot of the time cc's forget to switch it between languages so I don't rely on it much. for lore stuff, cellbit is a great choice because he's been heavily involved in investigating the federation and solving puzzles and all that since he first got on the server. from the french side, baghera jumped into lore stuff pretty quickly too so I highly recommend her pov as well

again I don't know how detailed/what the summary videos do and don't include but if you see clips from certain streams on that summary video that look interesting, I definitely recommend going to the vod itself and watching at least a bit of it. the group dynamic between all the players on the island is so delightful to watch. so many great friendships have formed bc of this server and it's so much fun to watch them grow in real time.

more than anything though when you're trying to catch up, go through the tumblr tag! follow people who liveblog a lot! follow the updates accounts on twitter! I actually don't catch many streams, but I'm usually pretty up to date on the big plot stuff happening on the server at all times just from what I see on my dash. read posts and check out the tags to absorb info via dash osmosis. that's how I caught up on dsmp when I first got into it back in january 2021 lol

hope this helps :)

[minheeskitten]

back but with a question; would you perchance have any favorite fics and/or writers !!! since im getting back into reading / always curious what everyone else likes :] (group does not matter, my stan list is very similar to yours dhdjfjekfjekfnekfjek) —☕️

Oh boy, fav writers and fics.. Thats a tough one since I don't often branch out of specific fandoms ( i am working on it!)

I read a lot of kingdom works. A lot of them. I have probably read every single posted kingdom smut piece there is. I started writing them bcs there wasn't enough. A lot of cravity as well, and some ateez too. Onewe and Oneus as well. But they aren't as popular so there aren't nearly as many fics as id like. Gotta write em i guess haha

But here is me shamelessly promoting my friends and mutuals.

Intenselysalmon on Ao3 is good. They're a friend of mine who made me go batshit insane over Arthur.

Yami0204, also on ao3, is good too. Even if you don't normally read sfw fics. PLEASE READ LEGEND OF KINGDOM AND ITS SIDE STORIES!! IT IS GENUINELY SO GOOD I WILL READ IT TO MY CHILDREN.

^ She's another friend of mine, and if you ever see a tag with 'Auntie' in it im hoping she sees that post. (Hi Auntie @kurenaiwataru I know you'll see this!)

@kingdoms-babygirl and @karmacumover have some excellent works, and also have a series together, and it is SO FUCKING GOOD. Their separate works are also amazing. I do forget to talk with them often but they're both great writers. Im a little intimidated by how good they are at times

In general a lot of my moots tend to be writers. I have a moots list if you wanna go look at them! They're all really good!

( @yourfatherlucifer aka Felix has the best Ghoul Hongjoong smut and OH MY GODS!! I need more.)

(@potatomountain is also damn good! Please go check them out!)

I also have a fic recs tag for fics i read on here i liked or thought felt needed extra love! It is just straight up 'fic recs <3'

In general I don't read as much as i want to, and i feel like my skills are slipping because of that so. Do reccomend me any fics from my stan list as well! I do prefer Ao3 but i will read on Tumblr too!

I've read some good fics over the years but in general more specific fic recs are difficult without knowing someone well.

If it helps, i am always on the lookout for good writers!

I tend to struggle to find non afab x reader, so i read more member/member stuff purely because i prefer amab characters to represent me. So if you find any, do send it to me! I always link fics or anything sent to me!

[sam-loves-seb]

gallavich questions

thanks for the tag (and the questions) @callivich !!

What’s a fic you’ve read more than once? intro to quantum dating by @spoonfulstar, i think i've read it 3 or 4 times now, it's one of my all time favorites

What’s a gifset you always have to reblog? anytime i see a gifset from that one s5 deleted scene, yeah that one, i have to reblog

What’s a headcanon you can’t stop thinking about? i have a very specific headcanon for a tattoo ian gets post-canon for mickey, and i hesitate to even explain it now bc i think one day i do wanna write a fic about him getting it, but whatever--my headcanon is that he gets an M tattooed on his left ring finger and it's a subtle yet sweet nod to his husband. (i could talk about this for 9 hours but i will limit myself and stop here)

What’s a fanart you love looking at? i've spent an obscene amount of time staring at this fanart by @doodlevich it just checks all my boxes (domestic, husbands, fluff, etc.) and it's so well done, i'm obsessed with this pieces

What’s an idea you’d love to create if you had the time/inspiration? listen, i have this idea for a rock band au that lives rent fucking free in my head, and if i can find the time and the inspiration to actually turn these vibes and unorganized plot points into actual words and a coherent story in the new year, then maybe it'll see the light of day in 2024 but no promises. for now, i leave you with this: four milkovich siblings are in a rock band that is rising to success with the launch of their second studio album and subsequent tour, and ian gallagher is lead singer mandy's (fake) boyfriend--at least in the eyes of the public--and he spends some time that summer touring with the band and hooking up with their lead guitarist in secret until the band's manager/father catches wind of what's going on behind closed doors

What’s something you’ve discovered since entering this fandom? A new trope you love? A different analysis of the show? Something else? i've always been a post-canon enthusiast for almost all of my ships, but i think before gallavich i always envisioned them with a very cookie cutter standard american dream family with the house and the careers and the 2.5 kids, which usually fits a lot of my ships, but with gallavich i... don't have that same vision ?? i think they're actually my first ship that i hc more often than not without kids in their post canon life, which is a new vibe for me entirely but i kinda love reading/writing it. idk if that answers the question you asked, but it definitely answered a question

What’s an underrated trope or concept you’d like to see more of? honestly i want more s9/10 prison era gallavich fics (and/or fanart). i think it's a gold mine era with so much untapped potential, and there are very few fics/series/whatever that really get deep with it and get to the good stuff of these two boys who haven't spent any significant time together in years but still love each other like they did way back when

What’s your favourite season? And has this changed after multiple rewatches of the show? it flip-flops for me between s4 and s5, like right now i think it's s5 but idk if i could actually pick one or the other as my absolute favorite

What’s a plot hole you wish had been answered or resolved? i would give my left arm to know how the fuck (and why the fuck) mickey started rolling with his dad again in post-prison s10 era, like in 10x08 he's going to terry for advice on how to protect ian, just for terry to try to kill him again 3 episodes later ??? make it make sense john wells i'm under your bed

What scene or moment do you feel isn’t discussed enough? personally i think the promise ring scene in 10x09 is criminally underrated and not talked about nearly enough, like you don't understand how happy that scene made me (stay with me here) seeing mickey stand up and fight for the future he really wants with ian and not settling for anything less

What line/dialogue/description from something else (a poem, a book, a tv show, a movie, or something else) do you feel describes Ian and Mickey’s relationship? can i do song lyrics? i'm gonna do song lyrics--i've always thought the song godlight by noah kahan was very gallavich, especially the chorus, and especially during s4/5/6 era and it may or may not be a piece of inspiration for my big bang canon divergent fic

What do you think is next for Ian and Mickey post-finale? i think they take a while to really settle into their new place and and make it their own, and it's a bit of an adjustment (for both of them) to fit in with this new crowd and this new environment, but they're learning how to grow and evolve together and at the end of the day that's all that really matters to the both of them

tagging: literally anyone who wants to play bc my brain is tired and i am too tired to try and remember everyone i probably should tag

[toxicanonymity]

Do you ever struggle with feelings of discouragement or inadequacy if your fics don’t do as well as you had hoped?

I’m struggling with that myself. I try not to get so hung up on it but it’s very hard, especially when something I’m so proud of doesn’t do as well as my other works.

I don’t even feel motivated to write bc I don’t wanna set myself up for disappointment

Discouragement, sure, I think that's natural sometimes. But I really don't feel like stats have anything to do with adequacy. Baring my soul, yuck. But fuck it we ball. Sorry it's a long answer.

I don't think I've ever answered a serious ask aside from the time i created Dr. rock which hardly counts but I've seen a lot of people struggling with this lately and hope this might be idk comforting to a person or two without leading to debate/discourse.

You mentioned something you're proud of isn't doing as well as your other works, and I can see how that would be disappointing. For laughs, I'll compare 2 of mine. These fics are impossible to compare (as are most, I think) but I def understand the urge to measure yourself against what you see as the potential. Aches: <1k popular trope I banged out in no time, wasn't sure about it, literally thought "people don't have to like it" before I hit post. >4 notes per word. Left in Lincoln: >22k posted so far, challenging, writing it for months. Has possibly driven me crazy bc I had this passing thought the other day and not about TLOU. (I didn't feel like re-reading it all): "I should just rewatch the movie. . .wait." 🤡 The whole Lincoln series combined has fewer notes than Aches lmao. But it's far more rewarding in getting to see it come to life, quality of engagement, and stretching myself 😏. It's not for everyone, for various reasons. Surely would have better stats without the twist I went with. But at what cost??

-------

Often, if people don't read or like something, it's a reflection of their own interests, limitations, and assumptions. And the right "fit."

I don't rly read much in general, but specifically, I rarely read long stuff (if I do I prob scan a lot tbh). I normally only want, if any, just enough plot/premise to build sexual tension. I don't read fluff or angst. I don't have the attention span / commitment to get invested in original characters. I tend to avoid stuff similar to what I'm working on. I make assumptions - If there's no word count, maybe it's too long. I know a lot of the fics I skip for these reasons must be fantastic. Assumptions I experience - I've seen very popular fics in the wild that strike me as dark, creepy, or pervy but aren't tagged that way. So some things that are tagged dark, etc., including plenty of mine, might not be dark in the way people assume based on their own ideas, or based on what others do tag. Also some people think I only write dark when sometimes it's just horny (see master list).

I've sometimes found myself thinking "It sucks more people don't read this bc i bet they would enjoy it" (not just my own fics). It might sound egotistical but I think it's often true.

------

Of course I want engagement because that means more people reading something which can mean more interaction, discussion, learning what you liked, what you think, etc. that's what I love.

But notes aren't rly near the top of what I care about, even though it does feel great to get them and I truly appreciate every single one.

Night walks doesn't get nearly as many notes as some of my other stuff, especially these days, but it's fun to write and I like to feed his feral fans who only get more into him with time. Same with raider: among those who do read and engage, I sense rising enthusiasm, thirst, and rate of falling in love with him (my bad). That's all worth more than 1000 likes to me. I have a good time writing these guys, so I write them more than other ones that get way more notes 🤷. I'm not saying notes don't matter at all, I know they affect exposure and engagement. But if just did what gets notes, I don't think I'd have such high quality engagement bc I'd just bang out more stuff with the most popular tropes instead of our fave Joels and those destined to become our faves bc they offer something special.

My outlook was the same before I had so many followers btw. Rock Bottom (22k) was what I felt like writing, still more ambitious than anything I've done in the Halloween fandom. I was disappointed it got way less attention than my one shots, but I know it's a banger, just certainly not for everyone lol.

-

I'm sorry for what you're experiencing and feeling, but I think it's very common and hope you can reframe it to not feel inadequate. I especially hope it doesn't discourage you from writing. ❤️

[perelka-l]

As a bilingual person I can say the Chinese Pokemon fans are light years ahead of us. I saw a guy write an ENTIRE 9 PARAGRAPHS on Kieran suffering from heat (Omegaverse) because they had like. No omega heat suppressors and Drayton being like “Thank god I’m on suppressants or Carmine would bury me in Kitakami” Note that that fic wrote “Alpha” “Beta” and “Omega” IN ENGLISH SO IT WAS DAMN OBVIOUS

Plus if you go on Lofter (Chinese social media) the top post with Kieran’s tag is him passionately kissing Florian

Oh my goooddd. I follow plenty of JP fandom ppl on Twatter and translate button is often used when I spot some key phrases and honestly. Eastern fandoms, from what I see, are so open and unashamed in their love and perversion, it's so refreshing to see. I saw recently a person do a 50p book about Kieran getting destroyed by a filthy old man! I saw a fic with Florian and Drayton drugging Kieran with mochi! And that's only last month or so and I don't translate everything that crosses my path! Nvm the tweets! The tweets!! And there is more likely so much more one doesn't see, considering jp fandom has comfort of keeping things offline!

I honestly think anti anglos would collapse out of heart attack if they like, understood what other fandoms look like and function. Seriously, lightyears of distance...

Sad thing is that anglo fandom used to be so much more open and unashamedly about things. Like, tunglr before 2015s? Live fucking journal times? Man, I miss kink memes so much, someone could swoop in asking for most deranged shit and could get it. It was insane, but open and honest. Policing always existed, of course, I don't want to idealize those times, but it was different.

Personally I try to up my derangery as much as possible to keep the levels up. There is no reason to not be open and unashamed of what you enjoy, to the limits allowed by the platform you're on of course (so I don't go nsft ways here ofc, while on twatter I keep my r-18 stuff away, partially out of courtesy and partially bc man, if my normal mode makes people so outraged...) but honestly. I also feel like if I won't be deranged, no-one else will, so I wanna lead an example, in a way, not as an example but more of "if no-one will, I will" way (does it make sense?).

It's so cool you have access to other side of fandom!!! Chinese fandom is a large unknown for me but usually one can see on AO3 that the taste is immaculate fr fr so that's hella!!

Also oh my god Kieran in heat and Drayton on surpressants sounds delightful. Having a cute omega in heat and you for once keep your head cool... Oh my. That's a lovely imagery, thank you for sharing that 🥺 wish I could read it...

[josiebelladonna]

alright. kinktober prep is officially underway it looks like. after getting a major head start a couple of months ago, my nerves are completely frayed, but the stories will all be written and they’ll all queued up. all the pigs are all lined up, i give you all that you want, take the skin and peel it back-

i’m making this post to preface the event.

by the way, if you’re not into this and don’t wanna see the posts, please blacklist the “kinktober″ and “kinktober 2024” tags, as well as my personalized tag “antarkinktober”—this goes double if you’re under 18: it’s not my job to police you so heed the “mature” labels on all the stories. 

what is kinktober? definition from fanlore: “Kinktober is a multifandom prompt based challenge that encourages the creation of erotic fanworks, mostly fanfiction and fan art, that focus on specific kinks. Taking place during the month of October.” 31 days of smut at its bare bones—although, contrary to popular belief, kink actually need not be sexual.

what prompts are you using? my own, as well as a list from oops-all-kink. i’ve been planning this quite literally since may.

what does X prompt mean? i would recommend going to fetlife or urban dictionary to learn about kinks that sound unfamiliar (especially when Google is basically useless at this point and they feel a need to sanitize results, too)—fanlore also has a full glossary of fanfic terms that, even i’ve never heard of.

how long will they be? at this point, they’re ranging anywhere from 2-6k words: i like to set a stage and tell a story. it’s just more titillating to me, and i always feel like i’m shortchanging myself if i go below a thousand words. i’m not doing it bc i’m horny lol; i do it because… it’s just how i roll. it’s one of the many things that isolate me from the rest of the pack 😒

who are you including? i want to leave that as a little surprise~

why don’t you like the “x reader” trope? short answer: it’s literally every fic in existence right now and literally no one does it right. long answer: that, and what i write is very personal, like i’m writing in my diary. if i bring “you” or “y/n” into it, it removes the heart from it and it ends up looking like nothing. i want to stand out, i guess. and more often than not, it begs the question, “why not just make an original character? you obviously went out of your way to make it applicable to a male reader or a nonbinary reader, why not just make a character?” (it’s a cop out at this point, is what i’m saying)

what time are one shots going to be posted? i have posts scheduled from 9pm and 9:30pm pacific time starting september 30th (the installments of paradise will be posted throughout the day on september 29th, alex’s birthday), so i’d say be on the look out (and maybe turn on my post notifications?). on ao3, i’ll be posting them on the day of the prompt, probably in the morning after my workout (around 8-ish).

isn’t this a bit too much smut? depending on who you ask. my first time was in 2022 and it didn’t feel like too much. i tried it last year and i pulled the plug halfway through because it stopped being fun such that i wanted to kill myself. this year, i’m trying to redeem myself and going all out. some people like doing only a few prompts, like a couple every week.

why are so nervous? i just am. i’m not exaggerating when i say last year was so excruciating that i wanted to slit my own throat. i’m not a sex-positive person (but i’m not sex-negative, though), and just thinking about being sex positive makes me feel somewhat sick to my stomach. i have no confidence… like not at all, and i feel as though everyone just wants to be a dumb, lazy idiot and an antisemite for the rest of their lives. i’m not sexy, and i’m not this confident, voluptuous vixen just eager to share her fantasies with all of you. in fact, i fully expect to get a repeat of last year where everyone gets called hot and sexy and “the one to be” and “the best writer”… except me. i fully expect my kinks to met with utter disgust. there’s a great deal of pride in what i do (i’m portuguese, we’re a proud people), even though it doesn’t seem that way. but if i’m met with apathy, it’s painful, and last year, i was met with reams of apathy. i can get down with a negative remark despite the unspoken rule that you must never say anything negative about a fic to the author; but if no one cares or calls it “fine” or “okay” or whatever, i have my hand on the cable.

if you have any other questions, you may (or not) have noticed that i quietly reopened my ask box. 

please be patient with me when it comes to answering asks, or even posting. this has been the most emotionally trying year for me in 7 years, and anxiety is a real thing with me. depression is a real thing with me. i am scarred by shame and a broken heart. i’m an artist, i have been taking shit day in day out for the last 11, and more so in the last four years. so, i am literally trying my best.

please try and enjoy what i have waiting in the wings. it really does feel like everyone hates me, and this feeling has pervaded since around this time in 2020.

[definitelynotshouting]

Hey friend, I am absolutely rotating the HECK out of Hunger AU rn. I just binged all of the tagged posts and I'm going FERAL! Watchers being like parasitic wasps? Listeners being like fungi? Absolutely based takes.

I'm very much a fan of the emotional realism going on and I'm so terrified of Angry!Mumbo. Like. Bro doesn't get all that angry that often those folks are the scariest properly pissed.

And I relate far too much to the Search Party tbh. Something about the themes of mental and physical illness, wanting to help but not knowing how, the one you want to help not wanting help at this point, the resentment that causes on both sides of that stalemate... yeah I've been there.

Also, I am insanely curious about the ecological niche that Watchers and Listeners fulfill. Like. There has to be a reason they are the way they are. I'm insanely curious about what the environment they evolved in looked like, and even more curious as to what they provide back to the universe in return.

Like. Irl most wasps are predatory insects, controlling the population of pests and invasive species, but the tidbits you've given us about how they feed on emotions and the groups they feed on put me more in mind of, like, herding dogs. Yknow? Does that make sense? Gathering players together and moving them away from half abandoned worlds to let them dissolve back into the greater code. Maybe interviening in virus-infected worlds or virus-vulrable worlds, encouraging those players to move or perish.

And Listeners, well, fungi occupy so many diverse niches they could do just about anything, really. It's very fun to think about and I am rotating them vigorously, thank you for feeding us so well <3

(May I be 🐸 anon?)

This is such a sweet ask i am so 🥺🥺🥺🥺 abt it, im really pleased that you're enjoying the emotional realism ive committed to for this fic, because thats just such an important aspect for me-- my goal here is to depict a deeply emotional, moving, and messy situation about illness and recovery where no one's feelings are punished or demonized by the narrative. Its just so, so important to me that the Search Party (and later on, the other hermits) get their emotions properly respected and explored. Its not just about Grian, even if he is the ultimate focus-- everyone else deserves varied, emotional responses to an ugly and terrifying situation where theres hurt on all sides. This is the kind of realism i love putting in all of my writing, and the kind of justice i want to do for all characters in stories like these!!

Its a little funny how this au originally started with me brainrotting absently about Watcher biology because i wanted to explore the idea of Grian pretending to be an avian and finding certain aspects of it deeply uncomfortable. And then it just. Snowballed into this!! And now i am chewing on worldbuilding for breakfast DKXNSJDJ im really glad you enjoy the Watchers and Listeners lore!!! I need to make a proper post on Devs (or dev crystals, as theyre actually called), as well as general code structure, bc they are both so fucking cool as well

I absolutely love your herding dog analogy, and its giving me some great ideas because for the longest time i couldnt quite figure out what exactly a Watcher's ecological niche was beyond predator to Players and prey for something else that's extinct. But now im really looking at the connection between Watchers feeding habits and Players' biological need for play (or dreams, if you want to get into the minecraft end poem of it all), and theres something there that i really wanna take some time to tease out before i give a concrete answer. I need to update my hunger au masterlist LOL i am saur behind 😭

Anyway this was such a lovely ask to sink my teeth into!!!! Thank you so much for sending it, and ofc you can be frog anon!!! This was a really stimulating conversation for me so thank you again for getting my brain whirring :D i hope to see you in the inbox again!!

[lixenn]

I really wanna read your fic and start engaging in the fandom more especially with oc stuff but I am so so scared bc of past experiences and fear possibly offending someone... Plus reading is actively hard for me due to untreated ADHD... Do you maybe have a tip of how i could start small? I see people i follow mention you quite often.

Wow, it’s so sweet that you came to me for advice anon! 🥺🥺 I feel super honored and very flattered that you want to read my story. I’m going to try my best to help you out 💪🏼(also great job on reaching out, have a gold star ⭐)

This might be a bit long I hope that’s okay (I ramble a lot, I apologize in advance). I will also structure this in parts so it’s not as overwhelming.

---

Engagement in fandom

I feel you Anon, interacting with people is hard. I’ve lurked on tumblr for years before I recently crawled out of my gremlin cave and started to actually talk to fandom folk. But worry not, Lix is here to help! I like gamifying difficult aspects of life (looking at you chores), so I have come up with this analogy:

Approach interaction like you are in a game with different levels. Here are some levels I made up (of course you can always adjust however you want)

Level 0 just scrolling through posts, no interaction at all

Level 1 Liking posts

Level 2 Reblogging posts without tags or text

Level 3 Reblogging posts with general tags

Level 4 Reblogging posts with personal tags

Level 5 Reblogging posts with your own text plus tags or Replying to posts

Level 6 Participation in ask games as anon

Level 7 Participation in ask games with anon off

How does it work?

You establish your baseline: for example you are usually at Level 1

You set a goal you want to achieve: for example you want to participate in ask games with anon off

You then start the game by taking a babystep into the next level: in this example you start reblogging posts with no tags or text (so level 3)

You spend some time on the next level until you are comfortable with doing this sort of interaction

Then you go to the next level

Repeat this until you have reached your level goal

Again this is just an example of how you can approach fandom interaction. I just wanted to show you that taking babysteps for interaction is totally okay!

There’s no need to immediately jump into a full on fandom discussion about your favourite character. Break the huge goal into small parts to make it less overwhelming (I’m sure I’m not the first person telling you this 😅). Also it’s totally fine if there are set backs, some days replying to posts might feel like the biggest chore on this planet and there’s no need to force yourself into doing it! Keep your own pace, this is not a sprint, but a marathon Anon! And I’m here to cheer you on!

How to interact

So, you have reached the level of interaction where you actively engage with other people. Congrats! ✨🎉You are doing great. But now you are stomped on how to interact, which again here are a couple options:

Ask questions. Honestly, that was how I started interacting and it’s still my go-to these days. Asking questions shows that you are invested, that you are curious and writers, artist and bloggers appreciate these kind of interactions a lot. I like questions about my ocs because they often help with character building and sometimes it even inspires a scene for me to write. It’s great! You can also just start small here, it doesn’t need to be deep. You can ask about an ocs favourite colour or just how the writing is going or if the other person likes cats. For real, even small mundane questions make my day, go wild!

Compliments. You see a fanart and think it’s beautiful? Put that in the tags! You like the vibe of this one oc? You can write that in a reblog. Again, start small and it doesn’t need to be poetry, a simple “I like this!” is fine and dandy!

As for the offending bit…

I can also understand the fear of offending, especially if you had bad experiences. For me it’s mostly anxiety that fucks me over.

But I think unless you dabble into super controversial topics you shouldn’t be too scared. Just present everything respectfully or as a headcanon, then you should be good to go (people can disagree with your headcanons but that doesn’t make it offensive, it’s just a difference in opinion).

Furthermore if you are scared of doing something the other person won't like you can always reach out in DMs to clarify if they are comfortable if you ask something with xy topic.

Also keep in mind that people might not instantly reply back. Maybe they don’t have the spoons, maybe irl is being a bitch, maybe they are on vacation with spotty internet, maybe their laptop exploded or maybe they simply have a goldfishbrain like me and forgot. The possibilities are endless but that doesn’t mean they hate you. I know the nasty little voice in the back of our heads often try to convince ourselves of that but it’s not true, people are sometimes just busy.

Reading

Now, I don’t have ADHD so I’m not sure if I can give good advice here, but I will try my best!

You could start with short works if you struggle with longer stories. Oneshots are great! So are works with short chapters. Shameless self promo here: My fanfic the Varia Housekeeping survival guide (short the Guide) has super short chapters (most are one DIN A4 page).

Of course you can always split up chapter into chunks. There’s no need to read 5K works in one sitting. Take your time. If the format bothers you, maybe you prefer reading in a certain font, then you can also just copy the text in a document and change it to something you can easily read (as long as you just use that copy for your own private purposes, it should be fine.)

Some popular fanfics also have podfics if the actual reading bit is hard on you, that limits your options a bit but it’s a way to start.

---

Well, this got long as hell. I hope any of these ramblings are useful to you and that I didn’t totally overwhelm you with text.

Stay strong Anon! You can do the people thing! I believe in you!

[patchworkgargoyle]

Would anyone want to be on a tag list for my Steddie fics? I don't wanna do it without anyone's permission (bc I get all up in my anxiety about it) but I also don't post them often, so if you don't want to miss any that'd be the most reliable way to see them.

[minheeskitten]

"2k is long" is also nonsense i'm so sorry 😭 2k is barely anything if you're trying to introduce an AU and actually flesh in a setting and especially if you're trying to show different personality traits 😭 your fic are mostly AUs with really well thought out lore, and it needs the word count to breathe and establish everything. if someone's attention span is too short to read more than - what - 2 pages? that's their problem, not yours! fwiw, my fic lengths range with the shortest starting at around 5k and the longest getting close to 30k and i have never had anyone leave a complaint about the length! people are more than willing to sit through 10k+ just to get to the smutty stuff, and they usually end up enjoying the rest of the fic as well. do not worry about it! you're doing just fine 🩷

I don't often look at the length of a fic unless im updating someone on how long its getting. My shortest wip is 100 words. And. Ive posted it to here bcs i feel it'll never be finished.

If it does get finished eventually then i will post it as a fic but. Until then it sits in my drafts.

My fics almost always include worldbuilding to at least 3k now. Though not all of them were like that.

Do you want in on a secret? I don't think out the world for my aus. It fleshes itself out. I think on what may happen n go from there. The story writes itself. I am just a vessel for the words and visions.

I am absolutely terrible at worldbuilding if im doing it consciously.

Its why i have visible headcanons for idols. But i just can't put them into words haha.

The most i think through is 'what sort of details would enhance this and make it better to read'

And then thats where i go from!

Siren!ivan was originally supposed to be more non-con than it is rn. The consent is not proper consent tho but thats bcs. Well. Siren wants what he wants and he will convince dann to give it to him.

Though. Thats a little bit of a spoiler. It is going to be tagged accordingly. Don't worry ill tag fics right.

The fic i thought through the most, probably is one ive not even started wtiting. The dissection fic. I gotta do all sorts of research so i can make sure its accurate and well done.

Which unfortunately means i gotta look at anatomy from a more medical standpoint. Need to go find a book for that..

The first fic i put out actually has a very strong plot hole. That i told myself id patch before posting it but. I didn't.

That plot hole was the reasoning as to why ivan was doing that to hwon. It has a very weak reason and i could absolutely fix it now. But. Not this year.

I write ab 5k minimum most of the time haha. I prefer letting the story fill itself out n then helping fine tune details. Its why i really can't tell you how long a fic may be.

So far my longest fic is 16k words. Published. Theres more unpublished. That's for the abandoned but not orphaned one.

I may return to it eventually. That's why i didn't wanna orphan it.

All of my fics stop at a point they organically would have stopped at. When i feel it can't really take another scene. I end it. That usually leaves spaces for part twos to them as well!

But i like exploring aus as i write them.

Fun fact! I write aus bcs im worried that if i do anything else i may accidentally copy someone else's idea.

I do get inspired by the other kd writers. Oh gods do i get inspired.

Lee, lunar, eve, even erin, who encourages the hwonicide. They all inspire me in their own ways. Does that usually come in the form of a prompt to note down asap? Yeah.

But other ways are helping with details for fics. And they are all very welcome to chat ab fics w me. I don't steal ideas. Not without permission and changing it to be my own.

I have a prompt that is inspired by eve's fic Clear My Mind (eve is karmacumover btw!)

But it is different. I may show her the prompt itself if she wants to see it haha.

But i love working on fics. Even if I can't be proud of them as a 'look i made this!' i can still look at the work and go 'yeah. Thats good.'

Thank you lee for helping me figure out how to do that. It was amazing to be able to step back and go 'thats a good story' if i removed myself from it.

The lee im referring to here is intenselysalmon. So she knows who im referring to.

One day. One day my goal is to be proud of how much I've written. Of what I've written.

Its a goal i think is far away. But the more i talk to other writers. The more i realize.

Im not as bad at writing as i think i am.

Honestly id never even considered myself a good writer, until i asked writers like lee and erin their feedback on my works. And they both said i write well. Maybe a little dialogue heavy but. Thats fine i can work on it.

Im doing my best. And im trying to ensure i continue getting better.

The more i talk to other writers and see how they talk ab my writing. The more i go. 'maybe im too harsh on myself' but. As they say, you are your own worst critic.

Honestly i never even considered my work good enough to do much with. But. Lunar still offered to possibly do a collab or fic trade. And i keep thinking on it. Maybe.

It makes me think they find me a better writer than i find myself to be.

Then i see eve, reacting to some of the xlips of airen!ivan ive put out. And she's reacting as i would for any of lee's clips. I find lee an amazing writer. It seems eve thinks of me that way too.

Im trying to wrap my head around it. But the reason i am so harsh on myself is. Anxiety and self doubt. And i need to work through them.

Thats the first time ive admitted that.

I will work through my weaknesses, and be better than before. Slowly. It takes time. I have to be patient.

One day. One day i will be able to proudly say 'im a good writer'

Its not today. But. It will be an eventuality.

Moots mentioned in this post:

Lee (@intenselysalmon )

Erin (@kurenaiwataru )

Eve (@karmacumover )

Lunar (@kingdoms-babygirl )