#Neil also deserved it for sure

[cxrontx]

"Mind never quiet."

Sometimes you can find the craziest spots for pictures on places you'd never expect. These, specifically, come from that jewelry and bard goodies store on the city. And also its not so secret hideout.

[fortheloveofexy]

I've seen a lot of posts in the wake of tsc calling out how the Foxes mistreated Kevin and never really gave him the same degree of compassion and patience that they gave Neil (and like, fair enough, there's definitely a disparity in how the two are treated by the broader team) but I think it's important to remember that it's very likely most of the Foxes didn't know just how bad things in the Nest were, especially when Kevin first came to Palmetto.

Like, they knew he'd been hurt badly, but were they ever told the full extent of the abuse in thr Nest? Probably not, because unlike Jean, Kevin was media trained. It was ingrained habit for him to conceal the true conditions inside the Nest to all outsiders, and that's not a habit he'd have been able to break easily. The only people who knew the full extent of what he'd been through were probably Wymack, Bee and Andrew.

Add to that Kevin's abrasive personality and his tendency towards nitpicking and perfectionism, and it's no wonder that the Foxes' patience with him ran thin after a while.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 41

PREV

Two and a half hours into the Banquet and FF had not moved from the chair he had sat in at the start of the banquet. He hadn’t gotten up for water. Hadn’t gotten up to go to the bathroom. Hadn’t gotten up to dance despite Nicky’s pleading. He hadn’t even gotten up when a Raven had come over and asked him to.

He was not leaving his seat.

The stadium could be on fire and he’d still try to be the last one out.

Until there was a time where he could slide out of this chair without a single eye on him and put on his winter jacket without it seeming strange he was going to remain seated.

The answer on why was under his precisely placed napkin.

It had all begun about an hour and fifteen minutes ago, not that FF was counting. Dinner had been wrapping up and people had started to get up and jostle about. Flirtations were flying across the table and generally over FF’s head. The team had been smiling, there’d been laughter, and it had seemed unlikely for anything to go wrong.

He relaxed and that’s where he made a mistake.

FF could not eat the meal served. He’d had his liquid dinner on the way over on the bus so it didn’t bother him much to have a decent looking meal in front of him and not being able to eat it. He wasn’t going to eat so he hadn’t even unwrapped his cutlery, wanting to save the clean up crew from at least his set of utensils. He hadn’t placed the napkin over his lap to protect himself, what danger could there possibly be when he was not going to be eating?

The danger came when a Trojan smacked the table hard as he laughed at something that he had taken as a joke but, knowing Kevin, was probably a serious suggestion.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin so that it fell off of his plate and onto his lap.

Fell right onto his unprotected lap.

FF had looked down at his gray pants now irreversibly blemished by the errant meatball. His mind flashing back to when Nicky had decided on these pants. Remembers how Nicky hadn’t wanted him to vanish in the lower lighting of the banquet.

FF had grabbed his cutlery and put the napkin over his lap, far too late to save his pants, but fast enough that no one would see that he had spaghetti pants.

After that the trajectory of his evening had changed dramatically.

He was going to sit here all night until they were getting into the bus and then he’d have his winter jacket on and it was a long jacket that would cover his mark of shame. You might think that FF could just slip under the radar and go try and clean off the stain or at least hide somewhere less conspicuous.

He would, he really would, except he can feel the eyes of Captain Jeremy on him regardless of how low his presence is. FF entered into Ultra Stealth but Captain Jeremy merely turned to him and asked a friendly question that had Nicky startle remembering that FF was next to him still. 

Captain Jeremy has x-ray vision and can see the wall behind the wallpaper. Captain Jeremy can see colors that mantis shrimp can only dream of. Captain Jeremy is standing in some secret government office pointing on the radar as CIA and Military officials look on going “What are you talking about he’s right here?” with a smile.

Captain Jeremy was the kid that ate all the cheap fruit on a dessert table before he looked at the cake when he was a kid.

It’s the first time in his entire life that he’d been completely unable to slip below someone’s attention and if it were any other time he might feel good about that. Might enjoy the idea of being seen and having the attention of someone like Captain Jeremy on him.

Except FF has Spaghetti Pants.

FF cannot escape the man’s determination to ‘make it up’ to him after Aaron had let slip that FF had a restraining order against one of his brothers.

FF insisted that it was okay.

Captain Jeremy insisted on making sure he had a good time.

FF insisted that a good time for him would be to sit at this table all night by himself. He kept to himself that what would really make it would be for him to sit without anyone around to notice he had spaghetti pants.

Captain Jeremy seemed to think that it was due to the still healing stomach injury and insisted on at least keeping him company then, unaware of the unvoiced second part.

So Captain Jeremy of the USC Trojans had declared himself FF’s banquet buddy. A man that was friends or at least friendly with almost every single player here at the banquet.

He looks around the banquet and sees the various tense standoffs at the other tables. These were men and women who would find even the smallest thing and never let you forget it.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if they realize he had spaghetti pants.

How does one recover on the court when the person you’re up against can remember the cold December evening that you dumped a meatball on your pants? He can already hear the jeering nicknames.

He wants to sink into his seat but he’s afraid to shift at all, worried he’ll dislodge the napkin in some way and the newest person coming up to say ‘Hi’ to Jeremy Knox will notice the marinara stain on his pants.

While Jeremy was distracted he did try to wet Nicky’s disposed of napkin to perhaps clean himself off a bit except before he could a Raven came up to him, “Come with me.” a large Raven Backliner says, jerking his head towards the bathrooms.

“No thank you.” FF answers in return, “I don’t need to do that.” he says assuming that the Backliner had seen him shift in his seat and assume he needed to use the restroom.

The Raven Backliner stood for a few moments as if waiting for him to change his mind but then Captain Jeremy’s attention snapped back, “Can we help you with something?” Captain Jeremy asks and his friendly demeanor had vanished.

“I-” The Raven Backliner started to say before seemingly deciding that it wasn’t worth it and walked away.

Captain Jeremy and him continued to talk. They had somehow fallen onto the SAW movie franchise and FF could admit that he was surprised that the Trojan Captain had watched the series.

“You need to come with me.” A Raven Striker says coming up and interrupting the two of them as they talked about the ethics of SAW. FF believed that it was all well and good to learn to appreciate life but there had to be simpler ways to go about teaching that. Jeremy didn’t disagree, he just also thought that sometimes there were some people who Jigsaw never intended to redeem and those people may have deserved their fates.

FF tilts his head, “Do I?” he asks since it didn’t seem like the ERC had made any sort of announcement and she seems utterly and completely perplexed by his response.

The girl looks at him, looks over her shoulder, looks back at him, “Yes?” she responds sounding so unsure that even FF wouldn’t believe her.

“I don’t think he does.” Captain Jeremy interrupts gaze utterly cooled from the warm one he had been giving FF throughout their philosophical debate.

The Raven Striker looks cowed and FF almost feels bad for her but not bad enough to console her when he has spaghetti pants.

She leaves.

FF and Captain Jeremy’s conversation shifts to winter break plans. Captain Jeremy is going home to his family and he’s taking Jean Moreau with him. “I think my mom likes him more than she likes me sometimes.” Jeremy laughs heartily. “He deserves nice holidays though so I’m always happy to bring him up.” he says voice and features going soft as he looks to where Jean Moreau was standing with a raised eyebrow next to Andrew as Kevin and Neil were having some animated conversation.

FF talks about his own plans with the Foxes and how he’ll be spending the break with them. He thinks Captain Jeremy looks a little sad about that but whatever sadness there is Captain Jeremy moves past it quickly and starts to ask if he had plans to go anywhere specific in New York. He heartily recommends the LEGO store when FF says he’s never been.

“Someone important wishes to speak with you.” An Offensive Dealer from the Ravens says and he looks like he’s about to shake apart as he stands in front of them.

“Who?” He asks, tilting his head and sipping his water.

The Dealer looks at him.

“Is it that hard of a question to answer?” Captain Jeremy asks voice stern once again.

“He’s…Master is-” The Dealer goes paler and Smith can’t help but pull out his handkerchief from his front suit pocket as he sees the Dealer break out into a cold sweat.

“You don’t look well, maybe you should sit down?” he asks with his handkerchief extended in offer. The man looks at him and then the handkerchief and then takes it. “Thank you.” he says 

“Wow a handkerchief? My pocket square is just a fake one sewed in.” Captain Jeremy laughs jovial once again as the Raven took a seat shakily.

“It’s something my dad used to always say.” Smith thinks about the additional handkerchiefs in his pockets. “A gentleman always has a handkerchief on hand to help.” He pulls out a second one, “A real gentleman has two.” he adds and folds the new handkerchief into shape for the pocket square again.

Captain Jeremy laughs, “Sounds like a great guy! He must be happy you took his advice to heart.” he says and it doesn’t hurt that bad when Captain Jeremy is saying it since he’s saying something so nice.

“I hope so.” he agrees and doesn’t feel like ruining the mood.

Captain Jeremy turns his attention back onto the Raven who has taken a seat and his eyes soften on the Raven, “Wow you really are pale. Not a lot of sunlight in the Nest?” he asks.

The Dealer swallows, now visibly the most nervous person at the table which is saying something considering that FF is at the table.”I-I’m just pale naturally.” he denies.

“Sit and talk with us until you feel better.” Captain Jeremy insists, “What’s your name by the way?” he asks.

“Michael.” He answers awkwardly.

“Great, my name is Jeremy,” Captain Jeremy points at himself, “and this is Smith. So, have you ever been to New York City before?” he asks

Captain Jeremy, FF, and Michael chat at length about Michael’s New York pizza recommendations. Captain Jeremy asks about some of the places he has been in New York and the longer Michael is there chatting the more color comes to his face and the more vehement he becomes that Captain Jeremy managed to pick all the worst places by accident.

“You’re kidding me! It was 10 bucks a slice, it has to be good!” Captain Jeremy exclaims looking as if Michael was telling him Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

“If you’re paying more than $2.50 it’s a rip.” Michael insists passionately. “If it’s more expensive than the subway ticket then it’s a racket!” he slams his fist down at the table.

“You mean to tell me that I was lied to by that person I followed on Twitter?” Captain Jeremy asks, appalled.

“Swindled.” Michael insists.

“Christ, I’ve given that recommendation to so many people.” Captain Jeremy and while gesturing he puts his elbow in his own remaining spaghetti, “Oh shit.” he says. Smith looks at the black suit jacket and thinks about a future one step to the left where he had on black pants and a black suit jacket.

“I’m sure it’s good.” FF tries to comfort offering Jeremy his third handkerchief, this one from his left pocket since the one in his breast pocket was a specific color for the ‘look’ that Nicky had wanted. “It’s just not representative of a New York slice,” he adds.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Jeremy takes the handkerchief wetting it with the glass of water nearby and wiping away the excess of marinara and spaghetti. “I’m going to go wash this off and try to dry it for you.” he says holding the handkerchief up.

“You don’t have to do that.” FF says but Jeremy is waving him off as he stands.

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” he says and heads off.

FF turns to Michael, “So I shouldn’t trust anything more than $2.50?” he asks.

Michael shakes his head and turns to look at FF, “Absolutely not.” he says with a smile before FF can see his eyes flick away and he stiffens. “Hey, it’s…” he looks down and the handkerchief, “it’s been nice chatting with you but… is there anyway we can take this conversation somewhere else?” he asks.

FF blinks, “No, I’m not getting up until the party is over.” Smith declines because by this point the stain has set. There is no stealthily cleaning it now that Captain Jeremy has left.

“So, you’ll get up once the banquet is over?” Michael asks leaning across the table and as he does that Smith can see a fairly ugly bruise on the Dealer’s forehead.

“I’ll have to won’t I?” he asks because despite the not-zero possibility that he’ll get left behind by the team again. His gaze shifts to Nicky who is leaning heavily against Matt as the two sway back and forth dancing and laughing. Probably about 50/50 at this point, depending on how quickly FF can make his way out of the stadium.

Michael looks at him and there’s something in his eyes that feels saddened, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” he says before rising to his feet. “Thank you for this.” he says and hands the handkerchief back. FF can’t help but notice how there was a schmear of make-up on it.

The Dealer walks off and FF waves him off with the handkerchief before sliding it back into his right pocket, where he kept dirty handkerchiefs. He lets his eyes wander across the banquet. He sees Aaron and Katelyn slow dancing to a song that is not a slow dance. He sees Kevin and Jean now in the middle of a passionate conversation. Jack is pouting by the punch bowl with a few other Sophomores patting him on the back. Sheena is seemingly trying to flirt with the older bartender. Nicky and Matt have somehow only gotten sloppier in the 2 minutes between when he last looked at them and now. Captain Neil and Andrew are at the dessert table and he sees Andrew offering Captain Neil a chocolate covered strawberry. He sees a gaggle of his fellow freshmen huddled together all sipping their drinks nervously he moves to wave them over back to the table. Threat of the reveal of his spaghetti pants aside he’s not used to be alone anym-

“What the fuck did you just say?!” He hears behind him.

“I said what I said. She wasn’t even that hot! Get over it!” Another mocking voice.

“That’s it!” the sound of glass shattering and all hell breaks loose.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[mykonossalome]

another strong look for the game awards tonight!

[the-bimbo-bunny]

season 2 was great !

I feel like throwing up

[buttsoclock]

Everyone is so mad at Neil Gaiman for the end of Good Omens season 2 (which I think is silly), but I have a much more personal issue to take up with him.

It started with Coraline, and that was bad enough (and by bad I mean specifically for my unique individual psychology--on the whole it's a wonderful story). See, I have two phobias: Spiders and needles. I also just have a thing about eyes.

So a story where this Other Mother wants to sew buttons into the eyes of the main character and then eventually turns into this spidery creature? Really kind of felt like Mr. Gaiman woke up one day and went, "There's one specific bitch out there who will be very upset by this specific combination of factors and I'm here to fuck her shit up."

(Did I still both read the book and watch the whole movie, with a blanket to hide behind even though I was probably 21 at the time? Of course I did, I make wonderful life choices, shhh.)

So yeah, a part of me already felt like Neil Gaiman was out to get me personally after that.

But it got so much worse. And to explain how, I need to explain why I'm arachnophobic. When I was 3, I had this dream that I was...somewhere, I don't remember where, and saw a spider. So I stepped on it and squished it.

Then I saw a couple more spiders, so I stepped on them and squished them.

Then I saw a bunch more. I wanted to get away from them, but there were a ton of them in every direction now. I turned toward the door to get the hell out of there, but saw that spiders were pouring in through the gap under the door.

I looked around then and noticed them coming from EVERYWHERE now--from cracks in the walls, between floorboards, etc. Pretty soon the spiders covered every surface--the floor, ceiling, and walls were visibly rippling from the movement of so many spiders.

And then they started to crawl up my legs and all over my body. I could feel them on my skin and in my clothes. They crawled over my eyes until I couldn't see. When I started to scream, they crawled in my mouth and down my throat. I remember waking up feeling like I was choking on something.

Let me reiterate, I was three years old when I had that dream. It's one of the first three memories I have of my life (it goes, the death of my dad's mom, getting my first dog, and that).

And then I continued to have that dream on a recurring basis, anywhere from once every couple months to sometimes as much as three times a night, for the next TWENTY-FIVE YEARS.

The waking up part was almost worse. Even once I was awake--really awake, enough to fully realize I wasn't dreaming anymore--I always imagined I could still feel something moving in the back of my throat and felt I would choke on it.

I can't tell you how much those dreams messed with me.

The dreams finally stopped in my late 20s. For a long time it made me anxious that they had stopped--like I was due for them to start up again any time now and maybe they'd be worse because of their absence. But I reached my 30s having not had that dream in two or three years.

Then in 2020 I picked up Anansi Boys for the first time, and imagine my fucking delight (and by delight I mean absolute horror) when I read a scene in which the main character's dream ends like this:

I started having that dream in probably 1993. Anansi Boys was published in 2005. I didn't read it for the first time until 2020, after being free of those dreams for at least three whole years, for the first time since I was barely old enough to form memories. I can't tell you what a trip it was to see that in a book by my favorite author.

It didn't go into a ton of detail about the dream or what the character felt. It didn't have to. As soon as I read it I felt that familiar feeling I used to have when I woke up from those dreams--like I was choking on something small with too many legs.

Let me tell you, I have slammed many a book down onto the table or bed, yelled, cursed, cried at them, but never have I actually thrown a book--except for this one. That felt personal.

So I would just like to thank @neil-gaiman for somehow, despite not knowing I exist, creating stories specifically designed to torment me individually. Super cool.

(I still finished the book. I still enjoyed the book. And in a weird way I loved the book that much more for it. I'm gonna be mad about it forever though.)

[alesbianperson]

football player!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: At the football play you visited to support your best friend, something happens that you didn't expect.

warnings: smoking (weed); slightly implied loser Ellie at the end; swear words; girls kissing (what a surprise); my writing idk

authors note: so firstly I mean football as soccer and not american football, but its not important to the plot so it can be interpreted as either; secondly, sorry for being so inactive I actually needed fucking half a year just for this its actually embarressing, I'm really slow at writing I don't know why, but I'm trying to be more active. I also didnt proofread so sorry for grammar mistakes or something anyway I hope you enjoy this!!

ALSO BIG DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN AND THE FACT THAT HE SUPPORTS ISRAEL!! If you don't know whats going on in Palestine, please go educate yourself because its highly important.

Here are a few links, so nobody can say it's too complicated or annoying to search for information (besides its really fucking heartless, cruel and totally not human to say "I dont wanna put effort in researching" while people are literally suffering and dying because of a genocide):

General information/updates

Brands to boycott

How you can help Palestine

Palestine masterposts: 1 2

--☆--

This evening was the final football game of the season. Everyone was so excited, and your best friend played in the school team, so of course, you came to this game to support her. You already arrived a bit late because you took a nap and didn't hear the alarm, so you quickly searched for your friends who were already sat and luckily saved you a seat. When they saw you coming in, they waved you over to them.

"What took you so long? The game has already started!" One of them said before switching their attention back to the field. "Sorry, I overslept." You explained yourself sitting down on your seat. "You didn't miss much, just a foul from the other team. They're so annoying and clearly playing anything but fair." Another one of your friends said, rolling her eyes while offering you a bag of chips. You declined and began searching for your best friend between all the other players, running on the field. Not even five seconds later, you found her. With the ball in front of her, she ran towards the goal. You joined the cheers of everyone from your school, sure that this was going to be such a great goal until:

A girl from the other team came out of nowhere, running towards her, tackling her to the ground. You gasped. "That was another foul!" One of your friends exclaimed, standing up to better see what the referee would say. But instead of also looking at the referee, your gaze still hasn't left the girl, responsible for the foul.

She looked pleased with herself. What an asshole! You thought to yourself, but couldn't deny that the way her eyes sparkled in the light and her auburn hair moved in the wind was mesmerising. Too distracted by her features, you realised a bit late that she was eyeing you too. A smirk on her lips, she winked at you before walking off the field, your eyes still on her.

"Too bad that bitch just got a yellow card. She deserved more, right?" Your friends, already discussing the decision of the referee, were turning to you since you were the only one who didn't comment on it. Heat rushed into your cheeks as you realised you hadn't listened the whole time, busy gushing over that girl. "Yeah.. definitely more." Was all you said to not keep the attention on you.

"Guys," you added after a short pause, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I'll be back."

"Sure."

"But hurry, they're already playing again."

You just slightly nodded before walking off to search for the bathrooms. To your luck, they weren't far away from your seats, so it didn't take too long to find them. As you closed the door behind you, a strong smell of weed filled your lungs. Holding a hand in front of your mouth, you coughed reflexively.

"Having trouble breathin', princess?"

You turned around to see the girl who fouled your best friend sitting on the sink, her legs slightly swinging forwards and back. She still wore her tricot but now had a grey, dirty, worn-out jacket over it. The half up half down bun she had was messed up, probably because of the constant running on the field, and between two of her fingers, she held an already half smoked joint.

Her smile rose as she noticed your gaze lingering on her again. "Y'want a photo? It'll last longer." She chuckled, finding this old ass joke very funny. You rolled your eyes at her words but couldn't help the smile, forming on your lips. "What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to play?" She blew out the smoke she held in her mouth before answering your question. "My coach replaced me. Said I needed a break before playing again." You just nodded because you didn't know how to keep the conversation going. For a few seconds, you both just looked at each other in silence. After taking another drag from the joint, she leaned forward, offering you to do the same.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Thought so." She chuckled. After a short pause, she added: "Not in a rude way, of course. Y'just don't look like you'd do drugs." Even though you knew it was childish and totally stupid, you now wanted to prove to her that you were indeed someone who could take drugs. So you took the joint out of her hand, carefully brought it to your lips, and inhaled.

You probably shouldn't have inhaled this deep because now you were coughing like someone poured tons of sand down your throat. It surely felt like it. When you calmed down a bit, you looked up again, handing the joint back to the girl on the sink, who was clearly amused. "What a brave girl." She said with a shit eating grin on her face. "Come here, I'll show you how it's done right."

She gestured between her spread legs. As you moved towards her, she leaned in, reducing the space between the two of you. "Open your mouth." She then proceeded to take a drag from the joint. As she moved closer, your breath hitched. Your eyes wandered from her gorgeous green ones down to her lips, and heat rose in your cheeks again. Without breaking eye contact, she blew the smoke she had in her mouth into yours. Reflexively, you closed it.

"Now hold it in."

And that's what you did. The smoke filled your lungs, this time a lot less painful than your first drag. After a few seconds, you exhaled slowly, a small smile of pride on your face.

Your faces were still very close, and silence fell upon the both of you again. The tension thickend. Her emerald green eyes stared directly into yours, abruptly blinking down to your lips. "Can I kiss you?" Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, fading into thin air. A smirk grew once again on her lips before nodding and then proceeding to lean in and closing the gap between the two of you.

Once her lips were on yours, she cupped your cheek, her fingertips brushing slightly over it. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Her lips were so soft. You couldn't really describe the feeling, but it felt good. Like you were on cloud nine. You quickly synced with the rhythm she set, leaning forward so that her back met the wall behind her.

Your hands wandered behind her neck, beginning to tug on her hair slightly. A soft groan escaped her lips at the sudden impact, which sounded like music to your ears.

A smile formed on your lips once she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "What're you smiling at?" She looked at you irritated, which just caused you to chuckle.

"I don't know. You're.. pretty."

Silence followed after that.

"Pretty enough to get your number?"

Ellie wanted to bash her head against the wall at her cringe comment. She thought she'd definitely crossed the line now. But you just began laughing, quickly covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound.

"Sorry. Don't get me wrong I-", you interrupted yourself by holding up your finger to signal her to wait and began searching for your phone in your purse. Fuck. You thought as you realised you left it in your jacket with your friends and hurriedly searched around for something to write on. Ellie just watched you amused, catching on to your plan. She snatched a pepertowel out of the spender and offered it to you. You just gave her an awkward smile, fishing a half empty kajal out of your purse and scribbled your phone number on it.

As you handed it to her, she took it with the same smirk she had in the beginning. "As sad as it is, I think I have to go back on the field. My coach probably misses me by now." She added hesitantly while sliding off the sink and walking towards the door. "Cool meeting you, though." The click of the closing door was the last thing you heard before you were completely alone in the bathroom.

With the paper towel still in her hand, Ellie made her way over to the rest of her team, almost jumping with joy and thanking every mighty power for letting her survive the whole conversation without completely losing her mind or embarrassing herself. She'd definitely save your number as soon as she could. Actually contacting you was a whole other story.

[glitteryinknotes]

There is a level of deep, bitterly poetic and cruel irony in Astarion's death and his eventual fate as a vampire spawn. Laughable, even. Lamentable.

Where do I even begin. I once posted here my thoughts on who Astarion was before Cazador took him; and all my thoughts were based on what we can assume to be canon from scraps on information in - game and interviews with Neil. That Astarion Ancunin who was laid into the ground at Baldur's Gate cementary was a corrupt magistrate, a shining example of power abuse, indulgence, hedony, existence in privilege without any service to the world around.

We also know for a fact that Astarion is not a good person in a moral sense. Again, Neil Newbon himself talked about it. He has capability to grow, mature, open himself up, soak in the positive influence and feel for others, but he never will be the default upstanding type. That is simply not at his core.

This is why (I am aware we're talking a fictional character, headcanon is free to all in whichever way they think it suits and pleases them) I cannot for the world believe in all the fanfiction based on the notion of the tragic, tortured soul unjustly attacked and turned into a vampire, because to me - it misses the entire depth and essence of Astarion's personality and arc. He was not a "worthy" persona before Cazador; in fact, the beating he got from the Gur was well - deserved and the near - death experience... Probably so as well. Maybe if anything, this would open his eyes and force him to reflect at least a bit on his choices in the position he was occupying. (But given that he mentions begging Cazador to turn him to be able to take revenge, I highly doubt that.) So yeah... The man got what was coming to him. He deserved it.

But what he got in the end once Cazador allowed him to drink his blood and had him in his hold? Two hundred years of misery and abuse beyond description, being completely stripped of any identity and personhood? No one deserves that. Such fate should not be thrust upon anyone. Ever.

It is the cruellest, most wicked twist of fate that it took that kind of ordeal to change a corrupt little elf's view of the world and force him to even acknowledge the existence of evil deeds and abuse of power - something I am quite sure he never gave any thought to before. It took being transformed into an utterly helpless victim to make him truly see that there is good and bad and perpetuating the bad leads to pain and misery for the innocents (and you can never be sure if not for you as well), and only then, at his most pathetic, most vulnerable, after centuries of torment, it took meeting, trusting, admiring, being grateful to, befriending / loving and being influenced by a genuinely good and kind person (probably the exact opposite of who he was before) to shake and cause some shift in his inner moral compass, or rather the way he was choosing to use it. The full circle, a poignant, unwilling journey from the one abusing power, to the enslaved puppet of someone with considerably more power abusing it in the most inhuman ways possible, and this time to his own woe, to the one person able to break the abusive cycle given the right influence.

Isn't that simply poetic in the most sickly sense? A tragicomedy, if you will.

Forget about Astarion Ancunin. The grave was good for lovemaking and sharing an important moment, but whoever was laid there was not anyone worthy of your time (just like "Ascended Astarion" )The one who stands by your side now is. Your Astarion. The new Astarion, the same "lovable rogue" with a taste for theatrics, drama, debauchery, beauty, murder mayhem and loose morality, but - a better person all the same.

[follow up post here

https://www.tumblr.com/glitteryinknotes/733162725841289216/a-little-follow-up-to-my-previous-post?source=share]

[justauthoring]

a promise he'll keep.

requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room

a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!

tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence

pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav

blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.

armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.

long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.

your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.

it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.

you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.

but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.

painfully.

"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"

you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.

astarion's face falls.

taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.

his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.

your eyes flutter shut in response.

"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."

you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."

astarion hates the way your voice trembles.

"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."

and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."

"i'm okay," you try to deny.

astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."

your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.

the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.

"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."

your hand grabs his, squeezing.

"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."

he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.

"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"

and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.

astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.

"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."

you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.

and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.

[heraxic]

Hello :o

I just wanted to say thank you (and also thank crumb) for getting me back into thinking about Karl Heisenberg 24/7.

I really love your artstyle, from the amazing expressions (especially the peeved/angry ones) to the scribbly lineart. As someone that’s trying to learn to draw more digitally, I really like to observe your stuff o.o

Your Moldy Family comics are funny, cozy, sweet and comforting all at the same time, and they made me discover and appreciate Eveline (oh man I love how much of a goth tween she is), and the way you draw Heisenberg (his physicality if that makes sense, his clothes, his hair, his everything) is just *chef’s kiss*.

As a former Greek Mythology child, that AU is so so nice owagh. I love all the monster adaptations/designs, it’s all so clever: I love that Kyril is scaley, hairy AND has wings (which I feel aren’t depicted often nowadays with gorgons), Alina is so majestic, with the black tipped limbs and the blood soaked dress, and the daughters being harpies/sirens(?) is also so perfect.

Idk if you’ve already said it, but what is it about Karl’s character that made him interesting to you?

I hope it makes sense (I’m a bit tired) and thank you again for the excellent food :]

Thank you so much!!!<<<3333

he lives in my head rent free…. his crusty-ass hair and barrel-shaped bod gets me every time

im glad you like my scribbly lineart! I tend to get concerned whether it really looks like anything haha

I miss drawing the mold family but i think my forte has always been fantasy, especially cause i love mythology more than anything. That’s not to say i wont go back to the modern mold family though

For greek au karl i wanted him to look like someone had haphazardly stuck animal parts to him so it’d look deliberately unnatural for him to have a relatively normal human body under all that-

I’m not sure i can fully describe why Karl is so interesting. Surface level, being voiced by Neil Newbon is always a big plus and his face model Joel Hicks is awesome-looking. His character design matches his abilities and personality really well, and speaking of personality, queer-coded villains who make a big show out of everything are always going to be my favourite. His gritty, masculine aesthetic is really inspiring in terms of gender as well. On a deeper level, in spite of all the terrible things he’s done, i find him sympathetic and relatable. After decades spent in a highly dysfunctional family, not living on his own terms, completely alone, I need him to finally be okay and get better for his own sake, with the support of people he trusts. It’s the same reason i love Eveline. Morally dark-grey characters who deserved better and could’ve gotten better with a good support system.

[ilomilodailystuff]

Okay. I see the fandom panicking and even starting to destroy itself...

For the ones who still love GO and would continue to love it as they always did but is judged because of ONE☝️ person's actions that might or might not be true, know you're safe here and I wouldn't judge you for loving GO despite Neil's accusations.

Because you gotta keep in mind that this show AND book are also Terry's. And you have to keep in mind that Neil wasn't alone in that project. Think about all the people that worked on the show, whether it's the crew or the actors. They're absolutely innocent, so why would you spit on their work as if they were guilty too ? Of course none of them would support Neil's actions if it's true, that doesn't mean we have to throw every poster or book or drawing or delete every fanfic or even stop writing fanfic because of this as if everyone were in the same boat.

These accusations are about Neil and Neil only and I would find it kinda sad that this story would be thrown away despite Terry had worked on it too, despite it also was in his memory. Ofc, if it's true, it's obvious Terry wouldn't be okay with it either but does that mean a story fully achieved and their characters have to be condemned with Gaiman ? Mostly when now, a lot of illustrators, writers and animators made it their own ? Mostly when it somehow saved many people's lives ? Mostly when this book or show had made people laugh and cry ?

This fandom is stronger than that.

Let's not mix everything.

Would you find it appropriate to talk about GO to the victims ? Obviously, no. For the sole reason that it's not. the same. thing. We have to put things back in their places. GO is GO, harassment and s*xual aggression are what they are. And it would be incredibly disrespectful to mix both.

So, my point is. Don't be ashamed to love GO despite what's happening. Don't feel guilty for supporting a show while you don't support the author. Don't let the fandom die because of one person's actions when there's so many people who worked on it almost just as much. I understand you're upset, I understand you'd think it might be hypocritical to love a show with the creator being accused of horrible things. But make the difference.

And I can assure you, if Neil is not guilty (and if he is, I hope the victims will get justice and Neil will have what he deserves) I'm pretty sure that he's not thinking about Good Omens at all right now, but just thinking about sorting this out and clearing his name as every innocent person would need to do so.

So, whether the truth is hurtful or a relief, let's keep the GO fandom going. For if it's hurtful, we will make Terry's story alive for his and many people's sake, and if it's a relief, we would have been doing things right by not jumping into conclusions.

Either way, you're welcome here and you're safe with me. Keep loving. Spread some joy. Don't let Neil's possible actions stain a wonderful story that is not only his own ❤️

[amysgiantbees]

I just find it strange that the developers chose to rewrite Wyll. I love new Wyll I think he's fantastic and I don't necessarily want the previous version. But I find it bizarre that there was somehow so much negative feedback about old Wyll that they risked completely rewriting him.

Now I love all the companions. This is not Dragon Age Orgins where I debate recruiting Ogrun every time. But I just find it strange that the reason given was Wyll's negative feedback when most of the other characters have been unpopular too. Like Lae'zel is infamously unlikable to a great many people.

People love to bully Gale and there's even lines in game that call him pathetic. The DEV's in the IGN interview even agreed that Gale killing himself can be a good ending, " I really liked Gale setting off the bomb with the brain, and actually that felt like the right ending to me.

AS: In many ways it is, yeah." Which feels problematic to say the least, like I get supporting player choices but suicide is never the "right" way to do things.

Or even I'm pretty sure I remember Neil Newbon talking about how he was sure a lot of players had killed Astarion permanently in their playthroughs.

Then there are people being absolute freaks on the internet about Halsin all because he's polyamorous.

Like these characters are wildly popular too but they certainly have their haters. So why did they lack such confidence with Wyll? The best source I could find on early access Wyll is this article https://gamerant.com/baldurs-gate-3-wyll-early-access-story-change-karlach-explained/. It says that this change was made to make his story stronger, make him more unique, and give him more complicated emotional ties. Unless he was really basic before they did not accomplish this. He has less content so his story lacks the depth the other's do. It's also inconsistent, with you being able to put him off being a duke by telling him he'll be too power hungry which he has never been. His emotional ties are rushed. He never really confronts his father, having the tadpole do most of the work and never hashing out his feelings beyond that he's fine.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. According to the article he was meant to have a dark side like Shadowheart "According to the panel, depending on whether players allow him to go through with killing Karlach, he will become a radically different companion instead of if she is recruited." Which would have been cool but if they didn't have enough time to do that maybe they should have tweaked what they had.

Plus, according to the article in early access he was "a straightforward hero who develops a violent side regarding his patron or goblins." This article too show's that his early approval matches current Wyll pretty well except for dealing with Aunty Ethel and more goblin hate https://fextralife.com/baldurs-gate-3-early-access-companions-guide-wyll/.

I just don't know I just find it so frustrating that it was the black main character they chose to tweak and ran out of time to complete his story and still haven't fixed it with a patch. And in the IGN interview the devs kind of sounded like there wouldn't be anymore patches and it's just frustrating. Wyll deserves just as much content as any one else.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 32

PREV

He had the first week back from Thanksgiving break off from both classes and practice.

The week off of classes leaves FF feeling like getting stabbed has been a net positive experience for him.

First he feels like it really cemented the apparent friendship he had with at least Andrew and Neil. Second, he technically had a job offer in his Freshman year. Third, and most important, his language professor who had wanted him to come and speak to his gen-ed Latin class of over 100 students told him not to worry about it and that he had gotten one of FF’s friends to agree to the presentation instead.

His relief was so immediate and all-consuming that he hadn’t even had the energy to pretend he was upset that he had been replaced. Thankfully his teacher just chalked it up to relief that he wouldn’t have to stand up and present when his stomach was healing from the surgery.

Coach Wymack and Abby wouldn’t even let him go to the Court. Kevin had tried to argue quite a few times on Sunday when that decision had been made. Argued that he could sit in and watch for strategy purposes if nothing else.

However, even Kevin couldn’t guarantee that FF wouldn’t get accidentally run into / knocked against considering his complete lack of presence.

Matt had rushed into Abby’s house having made a bee-line for it upon reaching the airport.  “Smiths! You got stabbed!” Matt yelled as if informing him of his own predicament.

“Yeah.” FF agreed as if it were something that could have been debated.

“What happened?! Nicky just sent a pic of the flowers he got you and the card?” Matt had asked pulling his backpack off his shoulder and to his front as he unzipped it and rooted around for something before pulling out an orange envelope. “This is from me and Dan, you remember her right?” Matt had asked.

FF thought of quiet conversations he has overheard over the phone and not so quiet noises Matt makes when engaging in some phone sex with his girlfriend.

“Yes, I remember Dan.”  FF had said diplomatically and accepted the card.

The card was sitting on the nightstand at Abby’s house next to the card the Monsters, his grandma, other teammates, and some cards from friends he had made outside of Exy. It feels nice to look at the multiple cards all wishing him well.

His Grandma was going to stay for two weeks and Abby was being incredibly kind to put them up

He spent most of that week sleeping, spending time with his grandma, getting yelled at by Abby for trying to do chores, and spending time with the Foxes that came to visit him.

Nicky had come over to hang out every day without fail. Most of the upperclassmen who were on the original ‘miracle’ team of the Foxes stopped in to see him regularly. Even Jack stopped in to complain about how Captain Neil presented a danger to the rest of them before giving him a Get Well Soon card and leaving.

It was a strangely thoughtful card that he’s near positive Jack’s girlfriend picked out for him. When the end of the week and the first game that FF would need to sit out from approached Coach Wymack asked if he wanted to come.

“You can’t play, but you’re still a Fox.” Wymack had said and his grandma had encouraged him to go and spend time with his friends. She’d hold down the fort for Abby, cook up a bunch of food for the the team to enjoy when they got back late.

So FF climbed onto the bus and sat next to Nicky who had declared himself FF’s bodyguard for the evening who’s safety he would only pass off to Coach Wymack during the game proper.

***

They’ve come so damn far from the worst team in the Division. His kids are thriving and because of that he’s gotten a larger budget. A larger budget to better help his kids with. David would be lying if he said he didn’t spend some nights wishing he could tell himself of a few years ago just how good it would get.

Still, the match is a lot closer than it should be.

He looks to his side and sees FF sitting there watching the game with rapt attention.

He looks as Sheena fumbles a pass that his newest problem child had mastered the timing of a month before. He sees Kevin’s shoulders go up in anger but Neil’s quick reflexes save it before the play is fully fumbled.

Neil makes a feint to pass to Kevin and the goal lights up putting them in the lead by 2 goals. David thinks of the numerous plays that would have gone smoother with the kid next to him playing instead of Sheena but there was no point in wishing for things that couldn’t be.

FF wouldn’t be playing until the Spring Championships started up and David would need to address FF’s medical hiatus and Lisa’s ‘family emergency’ that had her leaving the team.

It always stung when a Fox left but it hurt less when it was of their own volition instead of in a body bag.

He looks to the side again and thinks of the numerous decisions he had needed to make as Kevin slept in the car on the way to the hospital. Honestly, if he still was thinking about going after the hospital.

How the fuck did the hospital just leave the damn kid in a hallway for over an hour? He hates the thought of FF laying there in pain and bleeding watching as people went by.

He’s grateful that the kid didn’t seem to remember it.

He wasn’t going to mention it to any of the other Foxes, not even FF if he could swing it. He has no doubt that at the very least Andrew and Neil would go on a rampage and he’s near positive that Kevin would take special delight in it considering a week on he was still bitching about what he had seen in the Nutritionist office.

He’s not sure what Nicky would do but he knows it’d give him a headache.

Nicky takes a hard hit that has him subbed out for one of the freshman backliners. Nicky’s a little woozy and Abby confirms a very slight concussion that she’ll keep an eye on during the trip back.

They win by slimmer margins than they should but it’s to be expected.

“Coach Wymack?” FF asks.

“What’s up?” David asks.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. It...uh...well it takes a while now.” FF says and David can read the embarrassment.

“Meet us at the bus. Be careful.” he orders.

FF nods and heads off.

Neil and Matt are on press duty and David preps the press to let them know about FF and Lisa. There are some questions about what kind of medical hiatus but David declined to answer knowing that Neil and Matt wouldn’t let it slip either.

His last two players get showered and on the bus.

He does a count and gets the correct number and starts the bus.

They’re just about to get on the highway when there’s a shout, “Wait! Where’s Smithy?!” Nicky exclaims full volume over the general conversation that had been going on throughout the bus.

David frowns, he had counted-

Abby. He had counted Abby’s head next to Nicky.

“Oh god dammit.” he says.

***

FF looked at where the bus should have been waiting for him.

He closes his eyes and hopes that the bus will appear between blinks. 

He opens his eyes again and finds...nope just fans milling about heading to their own cars and home. He gives a hopeful look across the parking lot wondering if the bus maybe just got moved back somewhere so that they could get out easier after he went and made them wait?

A lot of people. Some kids. Some disappointed Belmonte fans. Some excited Fox fans. Some general Exy fanatics who were discussing what the Belmonte team would need to do to stay in  for the Spring Championships.

No Palmetto State Fox team bus.

He swallows a bit of disappointment and moves past it.

He pulled up his phone to plug in Abby’s house and saw that it would be a 4 day hike from Belmonte. He looked down at his shoes contemplating if they’d make the over 300 miles of walking. The doctors and Abby had been very clear not to do too much exercise but surely it wouldn’t count since he was just going to walk? They said walking was fine right?

FF sighed at the thought.

Yeah, it wasn’t going to work.

His stomach hurts at the thought of a 5 hour car ride. Maybe there was a bus station nearby and he could make his way back via greyhound.

He was looking at his phone again when it started to ring and Nicky’s face was on his screen to let him know who the caller was.

He hit the answer button, “Hello-“

There was an inhale and FF had been on the receiving end of this quite a few times at this point so he held his phone the entire length of his arm away from his ear, “SMITHY, ARE YOU ON THE BUS OR DID WE FORGET YOU?!” Nicky screeches and it hurts his ears even from an entire arms length away. He wonders how in the world Nicky can stand being that loud with his minor concussion.

He stares at his phone dubiously for a few moments, worried that Nicky may shout again.

“Smithy?! Smithy?” He hears Nicky’s not quite as loud but very concerned voice. FF decides to bite the bullet.

“Hello Nicky, I am not on the bus.” He says.

“We fucking LEFT SMITHY!” Nicky yells and FF can hear a collective groan from across the line.

He may even hear Coach Wymack yelling something about ‘again’ and feels shame burn in his stomach. He should have just held in his pee. He hadn’t really needed to go that badly and it’s not like Coach Wymack doesn’t take bathroom breaks.

“It’s okay.” He rushes to assure Nicky. “I can…grab a bus or something. You don’t need to come back, I’m-“

“Young man, if you say that you’re fine I can not be held responsible for what I will do when I see you in the next 20 minutes.” Nicky threatens. “I also can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to Neil since I feel like he’s infected you somehow.” He says.

He hears a distant “Hey” followed by an even more distant “Man, I hate to say it but I think he’s right.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” He says.

“Smithy, you are so far from a bother it is insane. How about I stay on the line with you okay?” Nicky asks but something has caught his eye.

Two kids haven’t moved as the rest of the world continued to. He watched as they clung to one another and no one seemed to take notice of them. He doesn’t understand how anyone could miss them with the bright orange children’s jerseys they had on. One sporting 01 - Josten and the other 10 - Josten on the backs.

“That’s okay Nicky. Call me when you’re close.” He says and makes his way over.

He can see the little boy’s hand holding the little girl’s hand tightly and is careful to walk around them in a way so that he wouldn’t appear out of nowhere. “Hey,” he squatted down to their height and the little boy still jumped slightly, dropping a small book to the ground, and the little girl hid her face in his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just noticed you looked a little lost.” He says and his muscles won’t pull in a way to offer a reassuring smile but he hopes he can convey it through his tone.

The little boy visibly swallows down nervous spit, “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” He says holding on tighter to the little girl.

“Smart, continue to do that.” He says immediately, “Can you just nod yes or no for me?” He asks instead.

The boy thinks for a long moment before nodding affirmatively.

“Great, good job.” He says, “Did you come to the stadium with your parents?” He asks

A nod in the affirmative.

“Do your parents know where you are?” He asks.

He shakes his head in a negative.

“Are you lost?” He asks.

Another negative.

“So you mean to be right here?”  He wants to clarify.

A nod in the affirmative this time.

FF takes a moment to piece together what he knows and looks down at the book.

An autograph book. “Oh, you wanted to get an autograph from Captain Neil?” he asks.

The little boy looks up but it’s the little girl who answers. She finally takes her face out from his shoulder. FF’s eyes can’t help but see the large burn scar on her cheek but also see how her eyes sparkle with delight, “You know Captain Josten?!” she exclaims in delight.

“Millie!” The young boy says. “He’s a stranger!” he hisses.

“Nu-uh!” she shakes her head, “Number 13!” she points at his jersey he had worn in solidarity. “He passes to Captain Josten!” she says brightly. “See Brandon?” she smiles.

It could just be a fan jersey though FF highly doubts that anyone would buy fan merch for him. He is no Kevin Day, Captain Neil Josten, or Andrew Minyard.

Still the little boy, Brandon, looks at him with wide eyes, “You’re Smith?” he asks.

“Yeah.” FF nods, “Captain Neil is my Captain.” he says.

“I love Captain Josten! I wanna marry him!” Millie says and FF can’t help but wonder if Andrew would squash such adorable competition. “His face is like mine!” she giggles.

“Yeah, your face is as cool as Captain Neil’s is.” FF agrees with completely sincerity.

“We came out here to get Captain Josten’s signature” Brandon says with a pout, “All the adults were in the way and it was...kind of scary.” he admits with a flush.

A thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to leave these kids and brave the crowds to find someone to announce the lost kids. It would only be about 12 more minutes before the bus comes. Coach Wymack would be able to help and...

“They’re coming to pick me up pretty soon. How about we stay right here and we can get Captain Neil’s autograph together?” he asks.

Both kids light up at the idea. “Really?” they both ask.

“Yeah, I also want Captain Neil’s autograph.” he says because he does. He’s wanted Captain Neil’s autograph for AGES but had been too awkward to ask. Then Greg had come and made it seem like FF would want it just to sell it or something.

Now he has the perfect excuse.

***

David pulled into the spot he had left almost half an hour ago and barely managed to put the bus into park before most of his more senior players were prying the door open to go look for FF.

Nicky had called but FF hadn’t picked up and it had set his more paranoid players’ teeth on edge.

The only one that stayed on the bus was Nicky since Abby had a firm grip on him.

David sighed and told everyone else to stay put before exiting the bus and began the herculean effort of trying to spot FF in a crowd.

It actually wasn’t too hard as he found his players standing and watching as FF crouched with his back to them as two little kids in orange Fox jerseys were re-enacting something for him.

He’d be tempted to let them keep going if he didn’t remember Abby’s list of specific things FF shouldn’t do with his still healing stomach and squatting like that was definitely on the list.

“Smith.” he says and watches as the Freshman jolts and tips over, thankfully onto his side, from his squatted position.

The kids get nervous when they see him but then their eyes both lock on Neil’s face. For a moment his heart aches for his player, plenty of kids have cried about Neil’s scars but then his eyes land on the little girl’s face more properly and...

Oh...

Those are stars in her eyes. David looks at the two different Josten kids jerseys that the Palmetto store had released.

FF recovers from his tumble admirably, “Coach Wymack,” he says getting up onto his feet. “These two are lost, can you see if there’s a way to contact their parents?” he asks.

David nods and pulls out his phone and steps away slightly.

He watches over the interaction that happens next.

**

As promised, FF had taken the awkward lead of asking for it and had them form a line. It had been weird but he watched as understanding dawned in Captain Neil’s eyes as he saw the two Josten jerseys. It had felt even less weird to get Captain Neil’s autograph when Matt had jokingly gotten in line behind Brandon because he too wanted Captain Neil’s autograph.

FF felt a little bad that Captain Neil had been so flustered by the requests but at least he finally had the Captain Neil autograph he’d wanted since last March. It also felt nice when Captain Neil had smiled the way he did at Millie when she babbled about how they matched.

Andrew had bumped into him in the way that FF was learning meant that he was pleased with whatever FF had just done. Kevin and Aaron had been the ones to ask if his stitches were okay after his startled tumble.

Millie and Brandon’s parents were incredibly grateful and swore to continue to be lifelong fans of the Foxes. Millie and Brandon themselves had been more excited about their Captain Neil Josten autographs than being reunited with their parents. They had waved goodbye with Millie loudly proclaiming that her and Captain Neil would get married someday.

Climbing onto the bus he was subjected to a check over by Abby when both Kevin and Aaron dragged him to her. Then he was sat down next to Nicky who shoved him into the window seat and cuddled up. “I won’t lose track of you if I’m on you.” was his logic.

The bus ride resumed.

“I didn’t know you liked kids.” Nicky says head on FF’s shoulder. “I’ve watched you go to the other side of the street to avoid middle school kids.” he adds.

FF feels ice in his stomach.

“Middle school kids are mean.” FF says and doesn’t properly answer the question but Nicky is just concussed enough to not call him on it.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Like I said in my last part I will be tagging people separate from the actual update going forward. Still any requests to be added to the tag list feel free to put in the replies here.

[ninyard]

i am in my renee and andrew besties 4eva era rn (when am i not honestly..) and was wondering if u have any headcanons u’d like to share about them? <3 i love ur brain dude!!

Here’s something:

After thanksgiving, when Andrew has returned from Easthaven, he invites Renee for a sparring session. Renee agrees, and everyone tells her to be careful, that he’s different, that he’s unmedicated and scary and if she thinks she’s in danger she needs to yell for help. She thanks them for their concern with a tight smile and tries to hold back an unfortunately bitter eye roll when her back turns to them. Her and Andrew find their way to wherever it is they usually spar - an empty room? A parking lot?

But when they get there, Andrew doesn’t start. He usually does, with some annoying move that almost always trips her up, but this time he stands in front of her with this blank and bored look in her eyes.

Are you okay? She thinks, but she knows she can’t say it out loud.

The thing about Renee and Andrew, in my opinion, why they work, is they each can recognise themselves in each other. Renee can read Andrew better than he probably thinks that she can, and she gathered a lot about his past purely from insinuations and little comments made here and there. I don’t think she knew who Drake was, but when she heard what happened, and she heard foster father, and she heard Luther’s name mentioned, she knows exactly what the history is there. Andrew doesn’t open up to her like he does to Bee or Neil, but he does share with her the scrapings off the top of his story. When she shared her past with him, she saw the look in his eyes, the shadow that passed over his gaze, and knew what had happened to him. She knew what his questioning meant, the curiosity he held over the things she'd been through. The pieces fit together perfectly, in her opinion, the pieces that told her exactly why Andrew trusted her so much once she'd told him.

“Good or bad?” Renee asks him. She’s talking about Easthaven, his time there, but he doesn’t quite catch on. He rolls his wrist in a circular motion to gesture for her to continue. “The hospital.”

“Bad,” he says. “They weren’t very good at their jobs.”

Renee feels her heart in her throat at his monotonous and unemotional delivery. She also sees that look in his eyes again, this time unsheltered and unprotected by the cloud of medicated mania that usually covered it up.

“Power trip or opportunity?” She asks.

She knows all too well how it feels to be poorly treated by medical staff or authorities as someone who frequently ran into both in her youth. Andrew seems to understand her question, and runs his finger over the lightly raised outline of a knife beneath his arm bands.

"Both and neither." Andrew says. His eyes are tired, and for just a moment Renee finds herself almost... startled? For just a moment, it feels as if she is looking into the eyes of a stranger, stood in front of him, with no smile on his face and no wild look in his eyes. Renee realises that she's never seen Andrew like this before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks, as she’s prepping herself or tying up her hair. She notices how he hesitates.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, but still he doesn’t pursue the start of a fight. He doesn’t step forward to start the session, so Renee doesn’t start either.

“I get it, if you wanted to,” Renee offers, and Andrew looks at her, and his face says I’m not sure that you do. “I know you’ll talk to Betsy. I’m just offering an ear if you need to get anything off your chest.”

“Are you against killing medical professionals?” He says as he shakes himself out to take position. Renee smiles as she matches him.

“I’m against killing anybody these days,” she laughs. “But no, not if they deserved it. Keep that one between us.”

They fight for a while, but Andrew runs out of energy slightly quicker than usual. Renee wishes she could see something in him, some answer, some feeling now that his feelings were finally his own again, but each time she catches his eyes she is only met with this vast emotionless void. Renee naively hopes that with each step he takes, each fist he throws, that maybe he will finally be angry. Looking at him, knowing what he'd been through, imagining what had happened in Easthaven, she wishes he would scream and curse the world for the way it had treated him. It was a thought born from the old Renee, that much was clear. A thought founded in spite and revenge, born from fiery resentment and anger. Renee thinks Andrew deserves to kill each and every person who has felt entitled to him and his body. She would tuck her cross necklace beneath her blouse and go to confession afterwards, but she also knows she'd be right there with him.

[fellshish]

I'm so scared season 3 is going to be canceled because of Neil. I can see both DT and MS dropping out cuz of this. Do you think we should be worried?

I’ll be honest with you here: i have no idea how to answer this ask. I know, of course, there is a correct answer: the number one priority right now is making sure women, and especially young fans, are safe. No television show is more important than that. That is a fact.

But of course i also understand the anxiety you’re feeling. Good omens is important to you, as it is to me. Do i think there is a possibility it might get cancelled? Yes. That would be a pity for all the hundreds of people not involved in any misconduct, who worked on this show.

But i also accept that there is nothing i can do about it. The decision to cancel or not is way out of my control. Therefore any worries i might have about that, would only be harming me.

Most of all, i am a big fan of fans and fandom. I have full confidence that even if a third season never gets made, there will be plenty of fics to give aziraphale and crowley the happy ending they deserve. Because there already are.

[mildlycursedhistoricalobject]

TW: SA

This is the only thing I’m gonna say about this, but yes, this post is about the Neil Gaiman allegations. Before I write my actual post, I’d like to say that my heart is with the victims and the victims only. I hope they receive both the support and justice they deserve.

Ok. Can we please stop attacking each other? People who are discrediting the stories of the women involved should stop, because surely they can see how the narratives they’re pushing are not only unhelpful but actively harmful. There really shouldn’t be “sides” here, because none us are involved in this situation, but it’s insane to me that some people have been so quick to completely dismiss the stories of each woman. People you like can be shitty.

However, everyone saying I told you so? That is equally NOT helpful. You’re not morally superior for disliking Neil Gaiman first, and again, the narrative that people “should’ve known better” is actively harmful for victims of SA.

In continuation, people are allowed to be upset that a work they’ve found solace in turns out to be created by someone accused of SA. I agree that this shouldn’t overshadow the emotional impact on the woman actually involved in the situation, but people expressing their own feelings about personal links to his work is not harming anyone, and shutting people down for doing that is once again NOT helpful.

I doubt I can seperate the art from the artist in this case, but those are my individual feelings. If someone doesn’t want to read his work anymore, that’s fine. If someone does, that’s also fine. Stop attacking each other, because like I said, the victims need to be put first, and forcing people to cut ties or not with Gaiman’s WORK isn’t doing anything constructive.

Now, in light of what I’ve just said I want to share two things (these are potentially triggering so please feel free to skip):

1. I was sexually assaulted in November last year by someone who I trusted, looked up to, loved, and I am still dealing with the consequences.

2. Do you know what novel helped me through this experience? Neil Gaiman’s “The Ocean at the End of the Lane.”

That book became very impactful in my life, very recently. So yes, as I said, I doubt I’ll be able to have the same relationship with it, or with Gaiman’s work, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that this whole thing has brought stuff up for me.

There are people like me all across various fandoms conected to Neil Gaiman. Stop assuming that you’re helping victims of SA by telling us we can’t feel upset because the work we found safety in was created by a man accused of the very thing that hurt us. You’re not helping.

I apologise of this post came across as irritated, or superior, because that’s really not my intention. I’m just saying there’s nuance here, and we should all think before we post. I’m just feeling pretty tired of all this “discourse” I keep seeing, and it’s distracting us from actual issues that we as a society need to be addressing.

To summarise, stop attacking one another. We should be supporting each other and the women involved.

(Edited a couple of words for clarity.)