#i have well and truly lost it

[singsweetmelodies]

me: this fic will be short and filthy. but most importantly - SHORT.

also me:

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[sillygoofyqueer]

THIS IS GOING ON MY MAIN BECAUSE I JUST HAVE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT THIS FANFICTION BROKE ME. I'M CURRENTLY VIBRATING. UNABLE TO THINK OR PROCESS ANYTHING. I HAVE SO MUCH ENERGY AND NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. LORD ALMIGHTY. @vinelark, YOU HAVE SINGLE HANDEDLY GRIPPED ME INTO THIS PLOT AND I'M THIS CLOSE TO SOBBING AND THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR WRITING IT AND I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I WOULD WHIP OUT A RING FOR YOU AND I'D LEAVE YOU AT THE ALTER AND AND AND

[dirtytransmasc]

~ Mother Flower — Spider and Sa'syul in grief ~

Spider and Neteyam's ikran grieve their loss together.

Her name is Sa'syul. "Sa" taken from Sa'nok, or mother. "Syul" taken from Syulang, or flower. Name Translation: Mother Flower.

Spider has lost his baby brother, Sa'syul has lost her fledgling, both are everyone's last thoughts in terms of grief, and both seek each other to soothe the pain.

Note: in canon, according to the wiki, Neteyam's ikran is male, but idc about that, I think Eywa would have given Neteyam an older, motherly, female ikran to watch over him and act as a second mother and he would have loved her.

↓↓↓ fic below ↓↓↓

They're both grieving. They're both missing a piece of themselves. Their boy' gone. His baby brother, her perfect little hatchling. Taken by war, never to return.

Sa'syul had stopped eating. She couldn't bring herself to do it, to go out and hunt, couldn't find it in herself to soar the skies or touch the water or weave the odd mangrove forest. Grief consumed her in her seclusion to the dark of the trees, away from everyone else. All but one boy. The human boy. Spider.

Her boy had loved him, missed him, and wanted things to be better. He had been scared to try and approach him after years of being distant. He wanted to fix it, but didn't know how. Now he never would.

Spider found solace in the forest. He had to be strong for his siblings, not wanting his grief to weigh on them, and wouldn't dare mourn in front of Neytiri or the similarly mourning village, he didn't have the right to.

So he went to the forest to be alone, to scream and cry and hit things to try and make the ache in his chest go away. It never did. it just consumed him, like it did Sa'syul, draining him of energy and will and life.

Both hid away in the forest to keen and starve and wallow.

Neither knew what to do with him gone. How was life meant to continue? How were they meant to keep living? How does one live without her bonded? Her fledgling? What about his baby brother?

It all seemed so impossible. How could they just move on as if he was still here?

She watches him, watches him cry, watches him curl into the hollows of trees and sob, watches him punch at the ground and the rocks and the trees till his knuckles bleed.

He had listened to her mourning songs, her grief filled cries, her agonized calls to the sea, calling for her little hatchling to come back to her, to rise from the waves. He watched the skies to see if she would go out and hunt, but she never did, not once since he had returned to his siblings.

They pity one another. It's impossible not to. Both are withering away. Both are alone. No one hears them.

Until one day, the human boy doesn't come to the forest.

Sa'syul didn't hear him crying as usual, she didn't see him curled up in a hollow, didn't smell the blood from his battered fists in the air.

So she goes looking, wanting to know where he has gone? Why was he not here, with her, in the forest, their place of grief and solace?

She finds him lying in the sandy grass, just on the outskirts of the village, basking in the sun, hands mindlessly petting at the grass beneath him, not caring for his risky choice of a resting place.

He hears the rustling of brush and branches from the forest. Part of him hesitates to turn and look at the potential threat, willing to chance fate, but ultimately he knows better, and shifts his head to look at what's watching him from the treeline.

He sees Sa'syul, truly, for the first time in months. He'd caught glimpses of her in the forest, but never sought to look at the hiding creature. He respected her wishes. She would remain hidden from his eyes if that's what she wished.

The last time he'd actually seen her was when he helped Lo'ak tend the ikran after the last raid. Neteyam couldn't do it because he was being tended to. She had preened his hair a bit when he scratched where her harness had been.

Now she was a pitiful sight, coming out of a fortnight long seclusion. Her figure was weak and thinning, eyes sad, posture tired and shaky.

Withered was the right word for her.

Despite this, she's quick to approach him, shuffling forward on her foreclaws, coming beside him without hesitation, nosing at him with her beak, and sniffing him gently, chirping as she inspects him for injury. When she finds him uninjured, outside of the scabbed wound on his chest, she calls to him, wanting him to follow her.

She wants him to go back into the forest, but he doesn't move. She nudges his leg harder, then his side, trying to force him to sit up. When he doesn't, she gets worried and frustrated. This is what her hatchling's body had been like when she saw him for the last time. She knows this boy isn't dead, not like her Neteyam, but why would he get up?

He's not sure what he's meant to do as she stares at him, clicking at him like he was a chick. He shifts ever so slightly so he can lie firmly on his back, a vulnerable position, but one that is solid and secure. He won't risk any sudden moves, especially as he cries and touches become more and more desperate.

After that, he doesn't move a muscle, trying to avoid her eyes, but not closing his own, not wanting to disrespect and anger her, but he won't show weakness either.

When he doesn't move, she decides to settle into the grass with him, unable to hold herself up any longer and giving into his wishes. Maybe the boy just needed time. Maybe he was exhausted like her and couldn't find it in himself to move. Maybe he just needed to see that it was safe.

But she does the unexpected, at least in Spider's opinion. She rests her head against him, rubbing against his shoulder and chin before laying her beak over his chest and arm, careful of the wound there, her wings spreading to soak up the warmth of the sun.

She keens once more. The warmth reminds her of flying. She remembers she will never fly with her boy again. It hurts.

Spider is awe struck. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know what to feel. He'd come here for a cry, not having the energy to climb through the brush or up into the trees

— Or the dirty looks every time he came back. No one trusted him, always questioned what he was doing in those hours he spent hidden away —

So he had slumped into the grass and tried to convince himself this was all a bad dream and he had just fallen asleep in the forest, back home, and he would wake up and head back to the village and find all four of his siblings alive and well.

And now he had his baby brother's mourning ikran lying on his chest. He doesn't know what he should do, if he should say something, if one wrong move will get him killed.

Sure he had worked with her before and she seemed to like him, this was different than taking her tack off, she was grieving and starving and who knew how she would react to him.

Ikran were flighty creatures on the best of days and this was not the best of days, so he was erring on the side of caution.

What was she even doing here? With him of all people? He had no idea, but listening to the cries she let out caused something in his chest to well up.

He recognizes them.

He understood them.

If there was one thing he understood about this situation, it was her cries.

They were cries of agony, of longing, of grief and mourning. They were screams of a pain so deep you think it must be killing you.

As her calls reverberated through his chest, they felt like all the ones he had cried himself. She missed him, and he did too.

He can't help the tears that gather in his eyes or the sobs that barrel out of his chest. They're silent at first, part of him terrified to mourn out in the open, but the flood gates open as she begins to keen along with him, agonized sounds leaving her as she slumps into her more and more, clearly exhausted, and silent sobs turn to wails.

He finally moved to sit up, trying to escape the head rush and weight on his chest, taking her with him as he did so, shifting her so her head lay in his lap. She coos at him a bit as she nuzzles into his lap, accepting the change with ease.

He rubs a hand over her beak, up over her forehead, down her neck, and under the edges of her riding saddle — Neteyam never got a chance to take it off, he never would ever again, and no one could get close to her after the funeral. So there it had stayed — scratching at the itch that surely lingered there.

"I miss him too, I miss him so much Sa'syul," he sobbed, peering down into his lap, into her eye, fingers reacting the patterns that danced on her skin, "I want him, I want him to come back, I want this all to be a bad dream"

She cries up to him, lifting her head to nudge her beak into her chin and then his cheek, wiping the tears away, wings fluttering with emotion, tail shifting where it laid on the ground.

"Why did he have to come and save my dumb ass? I would have been fine! I would have gotten out on my own and he would still be here..... it's all my fault," he rubs a hand at his face, a realization hitting him like a train, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. He should be here with you... not me."

The second the words fell from his mouth, she snapped her strong jaw at him, not nipping him, but the sound alone shocked him. She sat up from where she lay in his lap, not straying far, but rising to look him in the eye.

She couldn't speak, but she didn't have to. He bowed his head in respect. He didn't agree with her thinking, but didn't make it known.

Before he can even look up, she's nuzzling him again, breathing warm air out of her vents, bringing her wings in front of her, as if to comfort him and cradle him in her arms. He settles into her chest, letting the tears fall and his heart ache. She does the same. But not being alone makes it feel less all consuming.

As they fall apart in each other's presence, Neytiri will catch a glimpse of them, her first born’s ikran wrapped around the demon's child. She watches as Spider cries into Sa'syul's chest, and listens to the ikrans own cries. A deep feeling of dread forms in her chest. Was it anger? Guilt? Grief? Something else entirely? She wasn't sure.

She just knew she hated seeing them that close, hated seeing how he pet at her head and the bases of her kuru's, feeling that the child should not be anywhere near her son's ikran, should not encroach on that scared bond, should not be taking her son's place… yet, she saw the way Sa’syul clung to the boy, the first person she had approached since being shown Neteyam's body, and she knew that the ikran needed this just as much as the boy did.

She would be cruel to tear them apart, and she should probably feel guilty for even thinking about it, for the way she's treated Spider, so poorly he refuses to grieve in her presence, bottling it up until he can disappear.

She doesn't move to stop them. And when Spider comes back to the mauri hours later smelling of ikran, she says nothing.

After that day, Spider will go hunting for Sa’syul, bringing her baskets of fish and fruits, sometimes meat if he can find something good in the strange mangrove forests he's learning to hunt in. They would sit in the sun at the forest line, leaning into one another, sharing their feast with one another. She'd have her fair share of preening him, nibbling at his salt soaked locs and peeling shoulder, and he'd give her a good rub down, loving on her as much as he could.

They'd even play fight now and then, whether it be a spur of the moment event or a fight over the last piece of fruit it didn't matter. It made them smile.

And te words and calls and songs that would be passed between them were their own little secret, they understood things no one else could, in ways no one else could. They may not share the same language, but they saw each other, and that's all that mattered.

Spider would never be Neteyam, would never be her hatchling, or her bonded, not like her boy had been. But he was a hatchling and he had no one else and he understood her so she would watch out for him. She would love him and care for him and keep him safe, because that's what her boy would have wanted.

And being alone was much worse than being with him. He was good and kind and golden and so much like her boy. He never pushed her or tried to bond with her in anything more than quiet companionship. He brought her treats and scratched all the right places and would cheer when she took to the skies once more. It was like a balm to her aching heart.

and he loved her. She was a warm, calm, wise presence. She did not care that he was human. He respected her and she respected him. she would preen him and he would preen her. Soon they would hunt together in the forest. For once things were a two way street. It was nice.

They made it work. They made the grief tolerable.

[aethersflood]

-- "It's plain she cares for you very deeply." -- "And I her. Which is why I had to let her go."

[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.

[akai-anna]

Round 7

Round: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[hellohellowelcome]

People who haven't interacted with MHA content in 8 years now coming out of the woodwork to give the worst takes possible on the ending / characters / ships I've ever seen to appeal to toxic dudebros for clicks and likes....it's getting hard to block it all out

[cookinguptales]

Do me a favor, okay? Next time you have a chance, close your eyes for a minute and take a deep breath and imagine someone loving you.

Imagine someone who gets excited just thinking about you. Imagine someone who loves the things you say and do and who genuinely enjoys spending time with you. Imagine someone who feels lucky every moment they get to be around you.

It can be a real person or someone you just made up. You can imagine them praising you or laughing with you or touching you or whatever love means to you. It can be romantic or otherwise. Take your pick.

And if you had a hard time doing it?

Do it again. And again. And again.

I read once that it’s important for us to visualize being loved. That your brain needs to be trained like a muscle, and like a muscle, it can become weak from disuse. Your brain can only do the things that you practice doing, and if you never, ever visualize someone loving you, it becomes difficult to even imagine someone loving you. You get stuck in a rut. And once it’s impossible to imagine someone loving you, it becomes impossible to believe you will ever be loved.

I think… sometimes it can become easy to stop believing that we’re worthy of love. And I think sometimes we have this fantasy of someone making us believe that we’re worthy of it again. Or that somehow we’ll just — earn it, one day. Being worthy of love and desire, respect and affection.

But I think the truth is that we can only start believing that we’re worthy of love if we’re capable of imagining it. And it becomes much, much easier to imagine it if you practice doing so.

It may feel awkward at first. Embarrassing. Silly. Maybe even painful. But think about it like this, maybe: your first day in a dance class, you’ll fall. You’ll look ridiculous. It’ll feel like your body will never be able to do this fluidly. But by the end of the class, you’ll be able to move in a whole new way. Maybe not perfectly, but… better, y’know?

Learn to waltz with your own mind, and try not to cringe too hard at your first awkward movements. Start small and work your way up if you have to. Someone liking you, then someone liking your conversations, then someone liking your presence, then someone purposefully seeking you out. Someone putting time aside for you. Someone thinking about you when you’re not there. Someone being with you because there’s nowhere they’d rather be.

It may feel self-indulgent, but… I mean, we all deserve to be indulged sometimes. And we all deserve to feel worthy of love.

So… indulge yourself. Take a moment and have a silly little fantasy. Get into the habit of imagining love, and imagining it for the you that exists right now, not the you that you wish you were.

Learn to speak the language of love as it applies to you, even if you think that it doesn’t, and one day you’ll realize how to use those syllables to say your own name.

It’ll come one day. In the meantime, let’s learn to dance together, okay?

[kangaracha]

'omg roo where is queenmaker you promised it would be a couple of days' i'm a horse girl okay i don't have the power to resist a six hour livestream of jumping. i looked down last night and i missed someone taking a spectacular fall.

[hamiltonsf1]

zo’s saturday

[feluka]

might be getting air conditioning fingers crossed *looking at god with the biggest puppy eyes right now*

[simptasia]

my mum died last night

[rosykims]

im a eurydice = solas truther btw and ill die for my beliefs

be so serious........ and lavellan as orpheus......

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[llycaons]

me and a beloved mewtual going LITERALLY and EXACTLYY to each other as we reaffirm a core part of the story being wwx's overall journey in his social dynamics to stability and security as he goes, not without tragedy and loss, but from a contentious and unsupportive main relationship in a hostile social setting that degenerates quickly into dysfunction and instability and violence to end up with a supportive and healthy and happy life partnership with someone whose main life goals involve taking care of him