#he may look sweet but...

[pricetagged]

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

-----------------------

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[primejourney]

Hello again!

Here is my drawing for today's Sept-Ingo prompt: EXCITED!

Ingo isn't the only one who's feeling starry-eyed here. I'm so excited about the responses I've received in reblogs and comments! I felt a little shy about posting my art at first, but the responses of kind people have really encouraged me! Thank you!!

(And thanks for letting me know about the looser timeframe with submissions, @monthofingo. It's nice not to feel too pressured!)

~~

Although Ingo doesn't smile as big as Emmet, I'm sure one can easily tell how he's feeling via his eyes (and the volume of his voice!)

More comments under the cut

I feel like Ingo looks different every time I draw him haha. This is good practice -- perhaps at the end of this I'll have a clear style for him (so far, I've been trying to look at their Masters models, along with artists I admire! This one is especially based on his Masters model...and a bit of Sailor Moon with the shiny eyes lol, specifically this GIF:)

*cue anime WOW! sfx*

Somehow, I got his second head bigger than intended than the first -- but that's okay! It brings greater focus to his big ol eyes.

In my dreams, this would be a cute little animation loop where his expression changes as the "excitement bar" goes up and down . Maybe one day, I can actually bring this to life! Potentially, I might be able to mess with it in AE...Hmm... 😏

[sergle]

Ah fuck ah shit we found a kitten again

dude screaming his LUNGS out in front of some random building in lawton. literally just screaming as loud as possible. his plan to cry for help worked flawlessly.

[casualavocados]

I'm not finished yet. ...[🎶!]

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 13

[vikdec4i]

did anyone else ever catch this??? he treats a beverage like a finger food. not only is he picking out ice to munch on it like a snack, he's also savoring the lemon garnish.

allow me to reach peak insanity at 3 am type beat here– this actually reflects a lot about asa's character, especially regarding how he treats those around him.

don't go too crazy on me now he might just like to munch on ice and lemon slices–

BUT it fits the atmosphere of the scene since the guy is quite literally consuming mitzi, or what is left of her. which takes form in either taunting her with the remnants of atlas' death or taking jabs at her character.

there's some aspect of gluttony here. as in, despite what he claims to believe, he still sees mitzi as a hurdle to be dealt with. which is why he's been trying to convince, or let's say weed her out of the industry.

we can reflect this back on the 20s in general and how history tends to write women off their very pivotal role in the bootlegging business.

or i mean maybe im just entertaining my past in literature class because... as mitzi says herself: only asa can explain asa

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[clownhonkbonk]

hi rqg people i am once again late to the party

[autismdurst]

Mood rn :(

[dreamingofthewild]

I don't have any skin in the game so I probably don't have the authority to comment on this. But I find it weird how some people in the fandom put Wyll, Karlach, and Halsin on a pedestal for having come out of their abusive situations with their morals and humanity intact.

If you prefer the perfect "good guys", there is nothing wrong with that. I also enjoy stories about hero's who despite everything they have been through never lose themselves. But you can't expect everyone to walk out of a traumatic situation with a smile on their face a love for humanity immediately.

What are we saying that, if bad things happen to someone that they must remain optimistic and kind? Astarion, Lae'zel and Shadowheart are still worth saving.

I mean, Astarion can show that he is capable of changing if your character can show him empathy and kindness. Afterall, not helping him heal is how you get the ending where he continuous the cycle of abuse. Often people are quick to discard 'difficult' people rather than attempting to help them, and so they fall back into bad habits. Then that is used as 'proof' that the person is a monster.

No one is born evil. Either like Lae'zel and Shadowheart the environment that someone grew up in can affect their behaviour, or like Astarion, having all their fundamental needs stripped away. I am not saying that this excuses their behaviour but is explains it. And in real life I get that people don't always change, but this instance, they can depending on the choices that you make.

I have also mentioned before how Gale is weirdly considered morally corruptible by some because he chooses to stay with the PC after killing the tieflings as opposed to not dying. He is not giving in to evil here or showing that he is weak willed. Considering the bomb he has in his chest is his bending of his morals so that he doesn't turn into a mindflayer and explode everyone really a an evil choice?

Not to mention how he is villainised for a mistake he made where he had good intentions. Gale is one of the "good guys". His desire to survive at all costs and his ambition do not make him a bad person. With the orb he made a mistake, but he does not deserve to be punished for his lack of wisdom and curiosity there.

There is nothing wrong with liking good characters who always make the right decision, who always do no wrong, and who always remain hopeful no matter what happens to them. But I am critical of how the complex, morally ambiguous and not perfect characters are sometimes treated in the fandom. A character is not bad because they are messy and human.

I am not saying that everyone has to help them, but it's just recognising that they are all abuse victims and they all react to that abuse differently. I'm not saying that the ones who don't change are boring but it's weird to put them on a pedestal and claim that they are better because they are 'nice' from the get go and continue to be always do the good thing no matter what happens.

I guess I also love stories of redemption and the complexity of human nature.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 31

PREVIOUS

Eventually, his grandma convinced him that he did not have to send a horse head to Ichirou Moriyama with his regrets. “He said if you’re ever looking for work my little Rotisserie, it’s going to be okay.” She had promised.

FF chooses to believe his grandma.

He’s found a lot of his mental stability is built up on just believing what his grandma has told him to soothe him, it helps that she’s usually right.

He takes some deep breathes, shoves down his embarrassment that he was seconds away from crying in front of Andrew, Captain Neil, and Nicky if Nicky hadn’t dragged the other two out. He really needed to thank Nicky.

“I can finish eating the soup Grandma, it’s really good. What was Kevin trying to do to it?” He asks taking the container his grandma brought the soup in and remembering what Nicky had said as he had gotten Captain Neil and Andrew out of the room.

“That boy is very handsome, very smart, and somehow does not have a bit of common sense.” His Grandma says with a fond laugh, “He wanted to put protein powder into your soup to help you heal faster.” She says.

FF had seen Kevin put protein powder in weirder things. What would be so bad about that?

“It was Vanilla flavored Protein powder my little Chicken.” She says reading the question off of his face and in his silence.

“Chicken and waffles exists as a flavor combination” he says not seeing what would have been so bad about it.

“Sweetie, you can’t have anything other than clear liquids right now. The doctor said so.” She says with a sigh.

He nods, that makes sense.

His grandma sighs and looks upwards.

“We need to talk to the Doctors about when you can get out of here. I think being back in a hospital is too hard on you.” She reaches up and brushes back his hair thumb starting at his eyebrow and tracing back to his ear. FF knows it’s not very noticeable otherwise his step brothers would have used the scar to torment him like how they brought up his slightly chipped ear. Still, he keeps his bangs long just so he never has to see the scar in the mirror, knowing his eyes will always search it out.

“It’s hard to sleep when it’s quiet.” He admits.

“I know.” She says. “Are you okay for people to come back in? I’ll take Nicky to act as my translator to go speak with the hospital or I can go with that nice coach of yours since he already knows I speak English.” She offers.

“Can…can you take Coach Wymack?” He asks because he really feels like he needs Nicky if his Gran is going off.

“Of course my little Chicken.” She rises up, takes the empty soup container from his hands, and kisses his forehead before she smoothes his bangs back down. “If you want I can just have Nicky come in and the rest can stay out.” She offers.

“No, just…maybe ask Nicky to come in first?” FF asks, he doesn’t want to be rude. They’re here to see him, it was just a lot and he wants to thank Nicky for giving him the time he needed to calm back down.

“Of course, such a sweet young man. His fiancé is lucky!” She says with a smile.

“Erik is a very lucky guy.” FF agrees managing to return the smile his grandma offered him.

“Ok, I’ll send Nicky in and take your Coach to go see about getting you discharged.” She says leaving out the door.

“Thank you.” He says into the now empty room before leaning against the pillows of his bed and looking around his room again.

His eyes narrow on the flowers Nicky had brought.

Pink Tulips, Yellow Sunflowers all in a Blue vase.

One does not become maintain a close friendship with Nicky Hemmick without hearing extensively about how he feels about newly adopted Pride Flags.

“Why did Nicky get me Pan Pride colors?” He asks if only to fill the silence.

***

Nicky couldn’t help but pace a bit. Somehow waiting for FF to calm down enough that he could take visitors again was a lot worse than waiting for him to wake up from being stabbed. He shouldn’t have let Andrew or Neil start in on his friend, he knows the two of them are scared but Nicky is the only one who can actually understand how scared FF would be.

His sweet little Rotisserie Chicken (He’s claiming it as his own, he’s in love, Aras is a laugh riot) would absolutely be spiraling in anxiety. The others are talking amongst themselves but Nicky isn’t feeling particularly chatty at the moment.

There’s a sound and Nicky’s head snaps up to see Aras coming out of FF’s hospital room. Her face giving away some of her exhaustion but she brightens the moment she sees him. It’s a nice thing, having someone her age being so happy to see him. “He wants to see you. I want to speak with Coach Wymack so he can help me work on getting our Chicken discharged, can you translate for me?” She asks in Polish slowly for his benefit.

Nicky stops.

“He wants to see me?” He asks, “Just me?” He adds wanting to make sure he was understanding her.

She nods, “He will let the others in after, but right now? You’re the only friendly face he wants to see.” She says, “Who could blame him when it’s such a handsome one!”  She reaches up and pats his cheek affectionately.

Nicky can’t help the smile that fills his face.

He almost wants to turn around and be smug about it with everyone. The last two additions to their family were far closer with Andrew and Aaron, but FF was his.

A friend that would pick Nicky over his cousins.

“Of course, I’ll help you talk to Wymack.” He says and offers his elbow to Aras who laughs and calls him a gentleman as the two of them walk over to where the rest of the Monsters and Wymack were waiting.

“Is Smiths ready for company again?” Aaron asks rising to his feet.

“He only wants to see me right now.” Okay yes, Nicky is going to gloat a little. He feels pretty good when both Neil and Andrew’s faces tighten just a smidge. “Coach, Aras wants you to come with her to see about getting Smithy discharged?” He says before a thought occurs to him, “Wait, won’t I need to be there to explain it to Aras?” He asks with a frown.

Wymack coughs.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll get the information and you or Smith can explain it to Aras afterwards if need be.” Wymack waves away Nicky’s concern. “Go sit with the kid.” Wymack says.

Nicky looks at Aras, “Will you be okay without me to translate?” He says not wanting to make the decision without her.

“We’ll make do.” She promises with a smile, “Look after our little Rotisserie Chicken, will you?” She asks.

Nicky nods before looking to Wymack, “At least offer the lady your elbow Wymack! You’re escorting a LADY!” He exclaims and Wymack rolls his eyes but tellingly does offer his elbow for Aras to take.

“A gentleman coach!” Aras laughs.

“I’ll go with them, I want to hear what might need to be done for Smiths.” Kevin says rising up from the plastic chair he’d been sat in. “Aaron do you want to come too?” He asks.

“I think I’ve suffered enough today.” Aaron says and Nicky wonders what the car ride over was like for his cousin to sound that tired.

Kevin tilts his head obviously not understanding what Aaron was talking about but before Aaron could open his mouth and turn it into an argument Nicky intervened, “Kevin, be a gentleman and offer Aras your elbow.” Nicky insists.

Kevin spluttered his cheeks going a little red.

“Coach already is escorting her!” He squawks.

“Do you think one man is enough for a woman of Aras’ caliber?” He asks seriously.

Kevin looks embarrassed but, sure enough, offers his elbow to Aras as well.

She takes it, “Two handsome gentlemen. What a treat. Now this one just needs to keep his mouth closed and he’d be perfect.” She looks up at Kevin with a smile.

Kevin, as he has since Aras arrived, just smiles back at Aras’ warm tone looking very much like a pleased golden retriever.

Nicky turns to head towards the door, “He doesn’t want to see us?” Neil asks and Nicky stops.

Neil looks uncomfortable and Andrew has the line on his forehead that he’s experiencing an emotion he isn’t comfortable with.

Nicky is a man with grace.

“I think he might just want to make sure this isn’t going to be Interrogation 2: Electric Boogaloo. I’ll promise that NO ONE,” he points a finger at each of the younger men, “is going to do that. Right?” He asks.

Aaron nods, Andrew gives off an aura of agreeing, and Neil opens his mouth, “We won’t.” He promises.

Nicky nods, “I’ll come get you guys in just a bit.” He says and heads for FF’s room.

Nicky finds FF sat up in his bed with tear marks under his eyes and feels his heart twist at the sight.

FF looks at him with a baffled look on his face, “You think I’m Pan?” He asks.

Nicky can’t help his laugh.

“I gotta cover my bases!” He says and fully steps into the room.

“I don’t even know if I like anyone like that!” He squawks, a flush rising to his cheeks and this is why Nicky has to control his laughter whenever someone says that FF seems like a chill guy.

“That’s why I was covering ALL of them!” Nicky teases unable to stop the laughter that bubbles up from his voice as he takes a seat next to his friend, “You feeling better? That must have been scary with Ichirou.” He says gently.

FF looks at Nicky, “It was.” He says, “I just…I hope I didn’t upset him in any way and make things hard for Captain Neil.” He looks at Nicky who is already shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about that. He seemed,” Nicky thinks back to Ichirou’s expression as he called FF ‘bright’, “pleased. Did he say anything to you about like a deal with Neil?” He asks.

“Not really, I just…he offered a reward and I told him to give it to Captain Neil. I can’t imagine how he was handling those kind of men being after him. I thought he deserved it more than I do.” FF says expression worried, “You really think it’s okay not to worry?” He asks.

Nicky could just eat him up.

He knows FF’s family aside from his grandma is a complete write off, maybe Erik and him could discuss adoption.

FF’s his anyways.

“Yeah, you did great Smithy. Don’t you worry about a thing other than what Kevin might be trying to sneak into your food.” He pats FF’s cheek.

“Yeah, it’s too early for protein powder is what Gran said.” FF nods as if it being too early in his recovery for the vanilla protein powder in his chicken broth was the singular issue.

Nicky decides to not pursue that further, if for nothing other than his own sanity.

“The others won’t bother you about Ichirou anymore or if they do I’ll stop them. Can they come back in?” Nicky asks.

FF doesn’t hesitate before he nods, “Yeah, sorry I just…thank you for having them step out. It would have been embarrassing for them to see me cry like I did.” He says.

Nicky looks at the obvious signs that FF had cried but doesn’t offer to clean them off fully. He thinks that the sight of it will stop any further inclination to interrogate.

“Of course Smithy. If they start overwhelming you again I’ll kick them right back out.” He promises and he means it, Andrew could threaten and scowl all he wants.

FF is Nicky’s friend and Nicky is going to do right by him.

***

Nicky goes and gets Andrew, Aaron, and Captain Neil from where they were waiting.

“Where’s Kevin?” FF asks looking at the three shorter men.

“He went off with coach and your grandma. He wants to know about your recovery and probably irritate them into releasing you if only so they can get rid of him.” Aaron answers taking a seat next to Nicky. “How was the soup?” He asks.

“It was good, I was pretty hungry.” FF smiles at Aaron. They hadn’t had much conversation and in all honesty FF didn’t really know what their relationship was, if they were friends or just acquaintances but he wanted to believe it said something in favor of them being friends that Aaron was here at all visiting him.

“That’s good.” Aaron offers him a smile that looks weird on a face that is identical to Andrew’s in so many ways even if there are just tiny differences.

He chats with Nicky and Aaron about inane things. Aaron tells him about Kevin’s multiple clashes with the nutritionist, Nicky talks about how Aras baked the pie with the ingredients he’d gotten, and Captain Neil and Andrew remain silent in the chairs they had sat down in. Maybe they don’t want to talk to him other than getting information that Nicky has deemed ‘off the table’. Captain Neil keeps looking at his face, opening his mouth, and then shutting it.

Maybe they just don’t want to be friends anymore after he blew it with talking to Ichirou.

FF comforts himself that at least Nicky is his friend, Aaron seems to be friendly enough with him, Kevin cares enough about him as a player to want to find out about his recovery and that could be counted as a friend. He has a vague sense that he also made a friend along the way to the hospital but that might have just been the blood loss and shock.

Maybe the EMT was just being nice.

His Gran comes back with Coach Wymack and Kevin both of them bringing her in on their elbows for some reason. Kevin looks a little irritated but he smiles at Gran before she takes the seat left open for her at Nicky’s side. Coach Wymack lets him know that after a final check from the doctor he’ll be free to leave.

“Are…are you going back to Palmetto?” Captain Neil asks him as Coach Wymack and Kevin were taking their seats.

FF blinks.

“Yeah, why? Am I off the team?” He asks and is quite proud that his voice doesn’t shake when he asks. This will keep him from playing for the rest of the semester. It might be better for them to-

Captain Neil smiles and he sees Andrew’s shoulders loosen. “Of course you’re still on the team Smith. We’re keeping you.” He says reaching over and squeezing FF’s shoulder once before moving and sitting back and sharing a relieved look with Andrew who merely rolls his eyes.

“I told you he wasn’t going to go back home.” Andrew says in Russian.

“We made him cry.” Captain Neil says in the same language and it takes everything in FF to not go red in mortification. Oh god he thought he had escaped anyone realizing that he had sobbed like a baby to his Gran.

The mortification passes quickly when he realizes why Andrew and Captain Neil had been quiet. They had been worried he’d leave and maybe a part of that was that they’d be losing two players but…

He looks at Andrew’s relaxed body language now and knows that Andrew wouldn’t care about losing a member of the team the way Captain Neil might.

…but maybe it’s that they wanted him to stay.

The thought leaves him feeling the best he has in months.

***

Signing out of the hospital takes a lot of paperwork. There are plans being faxed over to Abby. There are follow-ups being scheduled at the hospital down in Palmetto. There are discussions about who will go get FF’s stuff from his dorm so that his stay at Abby’s can be more comfortable. There is also the fact that his Grandma has asked if she can take up the other guest room to help with his recovery.

It makes him happy and guilty all at the same time.

Eventually he’s in a wheelchair being pushed out by Nicky and loaded into the Maserati with Nicky, his Gran, Neil, and with Andrew at the wheel. He notices how Andrew’s hands are solidly on 10 and 2 and feels better even if he wishes he had asked for that medical coma.

It’s a quick trip to the cousin’s house to grab their stuff and load it into both Wymack and Andrew’s cars and then they’re on their way back to Palmetto.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust​​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​​ @sahturnos​​ @pluto-pepsi​​ @dreamerthinker​​ @passinhosdetartaruga​​ @leftunknownheart​​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​​ @sammichly​​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​​ @its-a-paxycab​​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​​ @cheesecookie​​ @theoneandonlylostsock​​ @foxsoulcourt​​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​​ @elia-nna​​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​​ @hallucinatedjosten​​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​​ @chalilodimun​​ @insectsgetcooked​​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​​ @themundanemudperson​​ @readertodeath​​ @apileofpillows​​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​​ @hellomynameismoo​​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​​ @interstellarfig​​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​​ @spencellio @adinthedarkroom​​ @harpymoth​​ @sufferingjustalilbit​​​ @anxietymoss​​​ @oddgrayhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​​​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​​​ @isoldescorner​​​ @not--a--pipedream​​​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​​​  @roonilwazlib-main​​​ @crumplelush​​​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​​​ @thesenseinnonsense​​​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupandfries​​​ @legowerewolf​​​ @deadlydodos​​​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​​​ @lesbian-blackbeard​​​ @lesbiansupernatural​​​ @silvermasquerade​​​ @thepeachfuzz​​​ @minniemariex​​​ @kazoo-the-demjin​​​ @gaypomegranate​​​ @ji-nk-ies​​​ @neilimfinejosten​​​ @omgrubelangel​​​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​​​ @percabethotplove​​​ @cozyrosykay​​​ @foxyatlas​​​ @theoneandonlylostsock​​​ @cindersapsecrets​​​ @scornedethnographer​​​ @hugemotherfuckingnerd​​​ @givemethedamnflowers​​​ @our-king-bree​​​ @astrovoidy​​​

SO I’M AT THE MENTION LIMIT. 

Moving forward I’m going to put the people who want a ping in a separate post with a link to the new part. As always if your name is there, it’s spelled right, and you didn’t get a notification then it might be something in your settings.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

mentally speccing bard!riz for a tentative class swap idea and then in reverse thinking abt rogue!fabian and I have to clutch my heart that shit is lethally tragic

[razberrypuck]

I hhope. may and troy see each other in the underground.

[sunshineandlyrics]

Louis is so sweet with fans 🥰

After the FITFWT Laval concert, 29 May 2023

[nonokoko13]

SPOILERS MANGA CHAPTER 3: OCTAVINELLE

OMG THIS YUU IS SO SO CUTE!!!!!!

LOOK AT HIM/THEM. ADORABLE. I WANNA HUG HIM/THEM 💖💖💖

Edit: Apparently his name is Yuuta, 16 yo. Maybe his surname is Mito, from what I heard in Reddit. I also read there that his family owns a Chinese restaurant, until you have better sources or find where it says that yourselves don't take it as official.

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOURE DOING AND SAY THANK YOU BRENT COMER.