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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again.

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence.

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow.

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading.

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street.

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic.

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself.

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes.

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books.

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you.

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now.

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer.

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s.

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by.

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat.

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion.

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips.

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters.

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight.

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips.

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted.

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite.

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him?

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time.

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert —

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!”

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you.

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air.

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.”

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same.

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass.

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention.

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens.

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells.

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates.

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess.

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says.

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave.

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.”

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter?

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass.

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there.

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction.

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything.

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything.

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust.

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love.

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile.

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold.

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

#im just thinking abt ….. bookstore gumi who goes out of his way to only work the quiet lazy shifts . and all he does is drink coffee n read #so its like his selfcare time and he hates customers n gets annoyed when they come in PHDJD…. acting like he owns the store #but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes.#so he tries to silently impress u </3 reading ur fave books even if he doesnt like them <//3 cutie #just to be clear if a bookstore employee randomly offers u a cup of coffee Do Not drink it . even if hes hot. stay safe ✌️#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader

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actual-changeling · 7 months

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not to be all sappy on main but being in the good omens fandom these last two months (TWO!! MONTHS!!! since season 2 can you believe that??) has been so genuinely good for my mental health and i'm also just having insane amounts of fun screaming and incoherently babbling about all these idiots with everyone else <3

#alex yells at the void #good omens #offering all my mutuals hot cocoa with marshmallows and cookies

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solarpunkani · 11 months

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"Oh no, someone's attracted to the aesthetics of my -punk movement but doesn't know the praxis and history behind it like I do--"

OK. Tell them. Make it a teaching moment. Everyone who's in your movement learned the background from somewhere at some point, maybe this is that point for that person. Give them a jumping off point that they can dive into later.

"Oh but I shouldn't be responsible for teaching baby -punks about the history and the how-tos and--"

OK. Then don't tell them. You don't have to be responsible for teaching people with a budding interest in your group the ins and outs and how-tos. That's fair and valid! It can be a lot of work. Someone else will handle it

"But I'm annoyed that they would try to claim to be part of/be interested in my community without knowing all the details that I know after being in it for months/years/decades, they're dumb, they're posers, they're--"

OK. Then don't engage with them, if it's that bad. Maybe someone else will come around and tell them the history, maybe they'll pick it up on their own, maybe they'll just enjoy the fashion elements for awhile.

"But they shouldn't claim to be part of the -punk community if they don't know the--"

I feel like we have a few options here. People can either talk to them, share the history, share the values, share the praxis. Or they can just chase off anyone who even thinks about dipping a toe in their community, and then wonder why it's dying off later down the line.

I dunno, maybe I'm too naive and patient or whatever. But if people are entering your -punk spaces without knowing The Rundown of what you feel they need to know, maybe being nice about it and informing people instead of immediately assuming stupidity and malicious intent could help you make a new friend. Even the loudest voices in a space had to learn from somewhere, and not everyone has the luxury of being in the space as the History was Happening--whether it's an age thing or a not being aware of the space thing. Or maybe I just don't see what the big deal is behind people hating people who like the aesthetic of something and don't know the behind the scenes history about it yet.

Because I believe in the word 'yet.' No one comes into this world knowing everything about everything, and we're all constantly learning new things. I'm not gonna degrade someone and call them a poser for not knowing what I know. Because if it were me, interested in a scene but getting chased out and called a poser? I wouldn't hit the books and study up, I'd go 'that fuckin sucks, those people sucked' and then avoid anyone and anything having to do with it.

So chase people off and call them posers if you want. But if your community starts dwindling, don't be fucking shocked.

#out of queue #ani rambles #punks and posers #i cant even call this a 4am hot take because its 7pm but like #idk i keep seeing posts about like 'how DARE people think I bought my punk clothes how DARE they not know the how-tos and DIYs'#or 'ugh people only care about the ~aesthetics~ of my movement if you don't know shit get out of here' and like #maybe I'm just a shy ass introverted nerd whos scared of social rejection! but I avoid that shit like the plague #so if someone were to reject me based on not knowing about something I'd never even heard about? something i was JUST getting into?#there's a high chance I'd just scram and never look back. i don't wanna be the one who causes that emotion in someone else #granted this is coming from someone who STILL doesn't know how to make her own patches or worked up the courage to do direct action praxis #outside of offering neighbors to my tomatoes and trying to talk to people about what I'm passionate about #but still imo unless someone's a malicious intentional bad actor i dont see the point in scaring newbies off #thats how movements die imo #i know this is my solarpunk blog but its not a solarpunk specific thing #i think the main post that inspired this was about store-bought versus self-made spiked leather jackets #which honestly just feels petty to me but who knows.#might delete later

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korokonas · 10 months

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Longdad

#my art #shitpost #dragons #flight rising #windsinger #fr dragon #flight rising windsinger #flight rising fanart #flight rising art #praise noodledad #the temptation to make him obnoxiously long was incredibly strong #busy week and it’s been too hot to turn on my pc lest i cook myself alive so i offer: whatever this is #FRfanart

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b1mbodoll · 5 months

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Matthe hcs? Or literally any zb1 I BEG

pairings: seok matthew, kim taerae x f! reader

warnings: size kink + breath play + strength kink + impact play + oral + dacryphilia + degradation + sadist! taerae + ruined orgasms + omorashi

💌: chose matt n taerae bc the brain rot has been awful :D also thank u to my beloved lil bella (@bubbleseo) for letting me use an idea we talked abt in dm’s !!! be sure to follow her i <3 her writing ‘nd she has the best thoughts ever ૮꒰。• ༝•꒱ ა ♡ ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

˚ʚ seok matthew ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ matthew’s strength kink ties into his size kink. he loves how easily he can toss you around because he’s just so much stronger than you <3 he’s hunky and beefy and absolutely ripped, using his strength to his advantage by slapping you across the face when you get a little too mouthy for his taste, eyes watering and cheek stinging. despite the pain you clench your thighs, squirming a little and moaning each time he hits you, becoming more and more desperate to feel his cock inside of you and filling you up

❤︎₊ ⊹ he’s a fan of breath play as well. wraps a strong arm around you, tucked beneath your chin and flexes, restricting your oxygen intake and making you claw at his bicep. you’re never able to make him stop though, forced to gasp and struggle for breath until he decides you’ve had enough, your cunt dripping and chest heaving when he lets you go. matthew’s kind of a meanie, but only sometimes! like when you go down on him, deepthroating his cock ‘nd gagging around him, knowing how much he likes hearing you struggle to take him. if you try pulling off before makin’ him cum he just lays a heavy hand on the back of your head, using his strength to force his length down your throat. he pinches your nose and uses you like a cocksleeve until he blows his load and his cum floods your mouth, not bothering to check whether you’re conscious or not.

❤︎₊ ⊹ while he does enjoy titles like sir or daddy, he prefers hearing you moan his name while he’s fucking you. he likes knowing that he’s the one making you feel good and every little whimper or mewl of “matty please” and breathy moan of his full name makes him crazy, bucking his hips wildly to draw more cries from you and grunting when your hands find their way to his biceps, digging your nails into them and making him hiss, cock twitching inside of you because he loves the pain and little reminders of you littered all over his body

˚ʚ kim taerae ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ taerae is such a sweetheart but there’s something about him that screams sadist to me. he gets off on your pain and humiliation, cock impossibly hard when you start to cry as he degrades you, calling you his dumb little breeding bitch and slamming his cock into you harshly. each thrust is powerful, the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix every he pushes his length deep inside and ripping squeals from you.

❤︎₊ ⊹ he likes making you feel so good it hurts, forcing you to cum for him over and over until you’re shaking and tears are streaming down your cheeks. it doesn’t matter how much you beg him to stop because you’re a toy for his pleasure and if he wants to use you until you’re nothin’ but a cockdrunk dummy then that’s what he’s gonna do <3 but if you struggle or push him away, taerae gets even meaner. he’ll bury his face between your thighs and lap at your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and bringing you closer to the edge, pulling away right before your orgasm hits to slap your sore pussy, sobs and wails like music to his ears.

❤︎₊ ⊹ there’s nothing he loves more than dumping his piss inside your messy little cunt :( he fucks you from behind, each thrust calculated and powerful, making you sigh and whine softly. you’re so dumb for thinkin’ he’s nice enough to fuck you without an ulterior motive, and it shows when your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm washes over you, pushing yourself back onto him and focusing on making him cum. he lets you enjoy yourself for a bit until the pressure on his bladder is too much to bear and he’s draping himself over you before letting go. his piss is warm and you can feel the steady stream splash inside of you, moaning loudly at the feeling. “you’re so fucking nasty,” he spits, teeth clenched as his hips stutter, pelvis wet with cum and piss. “aren’t you ashamed? can’t believe my princess enjoys bein’ used like this.” taerae’s words have your lip wobbling, eyes squeezed shut as you try not to cry but he doesn’t stop, he won’t until you’re sobbing so hard your body shakes. “this is what you were made for, isn’t that right?” you nod in reply, cunt clenching around him and milking his cock until you’re so full his piss leaks out of you, pooling on the bedsheets below.

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sunderwight · 5 months

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had a thought of what if Airplane had leaned a little more into the self-insert idea for Luo Binghe when he was still at the early stages of writing, with an end result that Luo Binghe actually Looks Like That because he basically looks like Airplane but with long flowing hair and a more idealized figure

SQQ going "why the fuck did you make his face so pretty???" and Airplane bullshitting about plausibility while trying really hard not to blush. twisting his fingers and scuffing his toe like jeez bro he's not that good-looking...

which of course sets SQQ off because how DARE!?! not 'that' good-looking?!?! just look at him! he's xianxia Helen of Troy with a face that launched a thousand harems! like okay sure with looks like that it does make sense that half the female population was willing to timeshare a marriage with him, but it's also totally unfair to SQQ, who has no recourse against those looks either! and who could? that is the most beautiful face ever!

Airplane's getting flustered. tries valiantly to make the case that objectively speaking Luo Binghe isn't that good-looking, it's just that SQQ is biased, but boy does that not go over well. SQQ has hitched the tattered remnants of his self-perception as a straight man onto the idea that Luo Binghe is just so devastatingly attractive anyone would want to hop into bed with him, and he is not letting go of it, so Airplane is just gonna get wrecked with inadvertent compliments

bonus if the Shang Qinghua look is actually the result of several illusions because when Airplane first transmigrated in, he got the same face too, and foresaw potential problems if the half-demon protagonist turned up looking like him. so he used illusions. he doesn't actually look all that different, in fact! the illusions just make it so that when people see him, they get a strong impression that he's unremarkable, so they don't really register what his face actually looks like and their brains fill in the assumption that he must just be kinda plain

oooh ooh double bonus if the system inserted a behind-the-scenes explanation for it too, which is that Shang Qinghua is actually unwittingly related to Su Xiyan!

and the whole thing comes to light post-epilogue when Shang Qinghua's illusions get stripped away by some monster-of-the-week, while everyone except Mobei Jun has a freak out about why do you look just like Luo Binghe?! (Mobei Jun isn't freaking out because he already figured out how to see past the illusions and just assumed everyone else wasn't mentioning it for some human cultural reason or something) and then Yue Qingyuan calmly explains that Luo Binghe's mom is Shang Qinghua's matrilineal cousin. Shang Qinghua's mother and Luo Binghe's human grandmother were half-sisters.

what? how does Yue Qingyuan know? you think that Cang Qiong doesn't check up on the candidates for the peak lord positions before handing off power, doesn't make sure there are no conflicts of interest or divided loyalties to other sects? what sorts of things do people imagine Qiong Ding's diplomats do? (I don't know either but, for the purpose of this scenario at least some of it is tracking down this stuff -- YQY handled most of it personally for his generation's ascension because he didn't want anyone else digging into his and Xiao Jiu's pasts) anyways, the connection could have been troublesome for its ties to Huan Hua Palace, but by the time it came to light Su Xiyan was deceased and there was no evidence that Shang Qinghua had ever even met her. so it wasn't deemed significant enough to matter, was just made note of and then mostly forgotten

so Shang Qinghua is like "oh THAT is why you kept bringing her up to me back then?!" because at the time he'd just been fully in "haha how would I know anything about the impending plot and the tragedies I am both partly responsible for and powerless to prevent haha that's so funny shixiong I KNOW NOTHING" mode, which luckily at the time was easily read as him just not wanting a dead cousin he never met to tank his chances of securing a promotion

SQQ is floored. he is having issues about this. Shang Qinghua is related to Binghe? Shang Qinghua looks exactly like him?! wait. Binghe has human family? still alive? like grandparents and stuff out there, who might want to meet him...?

Luo Binghe decides to step in at that point because he does not want to meet any more relatives! no more surprise relatives! no!

luckily this distracts Shen Qingqiu from thinking about all of the things he's said to Airplane about Binghe's looks for long enough for Shang Qinghua to flee the scene

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #bingqiu #moshang #cumplane #well kinda cumplane anyway #by implication #long post #what if sqh can't get his illusions back up #everyone keeps bothering him even more now to ask why he's hot all of a sudden #it's even worse than when they just used to bother him about fixing broken doors or balancing budgets #sqq is not gonna be normal about this #'you said binghe wasn't a self-insert!!!' 'well by the end he definitely wasn't...' 'were you this hot irl? why were you poor?!'#'wtf is that supposed to mean...?' 'with these looks you surely could have found somebody willing to support you!'#'bro are you asking me why I wasn't a sugar baby?!' 'of course not!' 'you totally are asking me why I wasn't a sugar baby'#'...but you must have gotten offers' 'only from the hot single ladies near me on my computer and they were all viruses'#etc etc etc so on and so forth the usual insane banter those two have

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shower-phantom-ideas · 6 months

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Jazz becoming the next big Gothem villain is such a solid concept. Theres so much to explore.

She targets corrupt mental institutions. Corrupt companies who destroy their workers state of mind so they wont quit. She attacks landlords who make it impossible for people to live comfortably.

She is the staple anti-hero of anyone struggling to get back on their feet. People should have to work three jobs just to afford a crappy one bedroom, no utilities, half bath, in crime alley apartment, with a roommate.

Shelters should be aiming to gain a profit instead of using the donations to support others.

She is tired of these big name heros leaving children to clean up messes. She has watcher her own brother wither away to a shell of his former self trying to make a change and she is sick of it. Hell she herself is a child but if this is what it takes, then this is what it takes.

Enter from the left The Manipulator™️

Feared by all corrupt. People think she has mind control or something. When she targets someone they make almost a full 180 in their ways. “She will do anything to get her way or to make people into what she thinks they should be. And she mist be stopped” cries big business.

In reality she is the worlds best damn psychiatrist ever to be known. She doesn’t force anyone to change but gives them the choice to be better. To see how much more they can be. And it terrifies them. Helps them find themselves again and to move past their troubling pasts. No force and no mind control. No manipulating. No one but those who she has helped know the truth but when they tell the truth it only fuels the fire of her being controlling.

Theres one thing also fuelling the flames of mind control. Thats the fact that every single major hero to go after her can’t. Any who approach her find themselves no long near her. Superman just wants to talk, well she doesn’t, and he is then back in his city?!? Batman is stalking her to figure out how to deal with her but once he gets too close he suddenly finds himself in the batcave?

At first they think it’s teleportation but time is passing? Theres video feed and tracking of no they just went back themselves. No response from them the whole trip. As if possessed. (Lmao it’s just good brother danny pranking his sis a little by making her seem all powerful but also protecting her anyway he can. Or could be Dan instead)

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #jazz fenton #manipulator? I hardly know her hehehehehehe these jokes are peak for me atm #jazz snaps and does some changing of the world #vlad is funding her because hes scared of her #no good tags today boiz I gotta call my mom and the hot water is gonw #yes yes I know I know I said I hate my mother but I am a good boi and will bring her lunch today so she eats #plus my sistet never leaves the house so im offering to take her too so maybe she can get some sun light #oh I got a promotion at work too btw #not the one I wanted but meh it’s something right?#gonna be working mon-fri 10hour shifts so ill be a bit busy sorry #got a catboi danny post in the drafts for you later though so u wont starve I guess #who am I kidding plenty of dpxdc posters for yall I aint gotta be worried #oof that makes me sad kinda so im a dip

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hg-aneh · 1 year

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Crowley and his slutty little man waist

(Not a man, but you're damn right)

#but may i also offer #-david voice- booooobieeeees #aneh answers #aneh wont shut up #idc if you dont find disco tony hot #youre objectively wrong #if you don't #but just #look at him

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iersei · 5 months

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- (UPDATED) BRIBERY MASTER LIST -

would you like to help a couple of dedicated freaks commit some ~ voter fraud ~ ? then go vote for Glenn Close over at @sexiestpodcastcharacter !!!

not only would you be helping an underdog win against one of the biggest presences in the podcast fandom sphere but also please consider it would be really really funny if we managed to get one sexy hot mess to the very top through grit and desperation and a pure fucking commitment to the bit.

if that's not enough for you: consider all the spoils that you could receive! there were so many additions to the prize pool in the past day, that i figured i'd make a separate post :D we want this so bad :D

< BY VOTING GLENN RIGHT NOW >

Art Requests from:

@itsbrucey

@llumimoon

@mikeystrawberry

@abeinginsand

@thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls

@iersei

@justablah56

@the-unworthy

@tiredwiredanduninspired

@kenny-the-blink

@h1tmanmode

@button-drop

@roman-cup

@taylortheanimerangerteen

@aliothbuzzsawshark

@ike-mcswains-mortician

@mispelled

@watermelon-inks

@b1gwings

@woahbrochilll

Animal Pictures from:

@kronoose

@giraffeskull

@idkanameatall

@the-unworthy

@herdreamywasteland

@gumireblogs

Writing Requests from:

@not-soup-333

@junietuesday

< IF GLENN WINS >

@itsbrucey promised an oil painting of Glenn that she'll send to Freddie Wong (the person who plays the character on the podcast!) and to document the process! and a whole additional animatic if we win by at least 1%! and c'mon that PAINTING would be so funny -

@babacontainsmultitudes will compile and release a compilation of all of Carlos' speaking lines (up until WTNV episode 230) and a compilation of EVERY time Jon says "Martin" in The Magnus Archives!

@punctuation-completionist offered punctuation themed requests for wallpaper designs, a punctuation tier list, a q&a, and more!

and in the spirit of rock and roll! @nick-close, @mj-thrush-gxn, and @tomatoe-copia will each release separate fansongs!

additional glenn drawings from @citruscore, @nesperus, @kenny-the-blink, @zil-street, @planetaryplut0, @taylortheanimerangerteen, @mj-thrush-gxn, and @radisyn! writing requests from @pandulce135! @ike-mcswains-mortician will make an animatic! @worlds-okayest-stepfather has offered to make a close family cake! and @locke-n-k3y has offered to make a sexy drawing of him for the twelve days of christmas!

@raemeh will even draw both of them if they tie!

in terms of pure passion and community effort. we've already won. but the title would be nice.

[SO GO SHARE THIS AROUND AND VOTE FOR GLENN CLOSE OVER AT THE FINAL ROUND !!!]

#dndads #hot glenn autumn #art requests #writing requests #polls #The Advanced Voter Fraud Experience #campaign offers #propaganda highlights

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dragonanon · 3 months

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Given how much of a shit Mammon is, I think he’d low key be REALLY into it if you’re a little shit right back to him.

Like he holds up a set of lingerie he KNOWS is way too small for you and says “Cute set, eh?? Too bad it won’t fit your fatass! >:)” And without even looking up from what you’re doing, you smirk and shoot back “Oh please, you and everyone else in this shithole LOVE my fatass! So you can bend over and kiss it! I can’t really say the same for you though, ya Christmas tree ass bitch.” And it takes what little self control he has to not marry you on the spot.

#yes this interaction did happen #the aftermath: he just cackled and said ‘ya got me there love. now comere’ and lemme take ya up on that offer~’#internally tho he was like ‘i must be the luckiest bastard in hell; fuckin love this bitch’#you and mammon regularly tease and roast eachother #not only is it entertaining to him but it’s also hot af that you can take his shit and throw it right back at him and then some #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #mammon #helluva boss mammon #hazbin hotel mammon #mammon x reader

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jtl-fics · 7 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 39

Nicky screamed as he found himself yanked from his bed as he fell to the ground. The blanket that he had so perfectly burrito’d himself in had been pulled and he had gone with it pillows and all. He laid on the ground blinking up into the darkness wondering what the hell had just happened, he squints and thinks he sees blond hair. He racks his still loading brain to try and think of anything he had done recently to Aaron that would result in such a rude awakening.

The lamp clicks on.

“Nicky, are you- Andrew, what the hell.” He hears Aaron’s voice from the left and now Nicky can see the black armbands of his other cousin.

That tracks.

“Flight 8329 from Charleston International Airport to Seattle Tacoma International Airport took off 20 minutes ago.” Andrew says as if that means anything to Nicky.

“Cool?” Nicky squints at his cousin.

“There was an hour delay due to a staffing issue, but it is off the ground now.” Andrew continues and Nicky continues to not understand what is being said to him.

“Great?” Nicky hears Aaron.

There is silence in the room and Nicky finds himself starting to drift back to sleep. The floor really wasn’t that bad.

“So, Daniel’s not here anymore?” he hears Matt’s whispered question.

“Dude, why are you whispering?” Aaron asks.

“Smithsters still asleep.” Matt says voice still quiet.

“How the fuck did he sleep through Nicky’s banshee scream?” Aaron asks voice lowered down to a whisper.

“I think moving all his stuff wiped him out.” Matt offers.

“We moved everything he just said where he wanted it.” Aaron grouses quietly.

“You know Smithster isn’t much of a talker.” Matt reminds.

“Whatever.” Aaron huffs and Nicky is almost back asleep.

“Yes Matt,” Andrew says voice quieter than it had been when he had been rattling off facts about Daniel’s flight, “Daniel is not here anymore.” He says.

That is actually great news. Feels like a shame that FF didn’t wake up to hear it but Nicky knows that it wasn’t just the move that had wiped his friend out.

The last three days had been interesting.

First, Aras had flown back home. She had offered to stay longer with FF since Daniel was still around, but he had merely smiled and told her that he’d be okay. Nicky had almost cried when FF had said that he wasn’t alone anymore. Nicky’s heart twisted when the two decided that it was probably for the best that FF not come back to Washington for Winter Break.

Second, there had been the whole debacle where Daniel had shown back up with the man who had married FF’s mom. They had burst into the practice and had gone straight towards where FF was sitting sipping his ‘New and Improved Day/Boyd Smoothie’. Wymack had gotten between them before anything happened physically, but Nicky could still see how FF froze at the sight of his mother’s husband.

There had been raised voices, threats of security, demands on why ‘John’ hadn’t answered his phone to come bail his ‘brother’ out, that he’d forced his dad to come all the way across the country to bail his ‘brother’ out. FF had been quiet looking bored and unbothered by the tirade of the man who married his mother.

Wymack had been in rare form.

“He didn’t pick up because that phone is in my desk.” Wymack had hissed standing utterly stalwart between FF and the two men. “Now get the hell out of my Court before your son gets reacquainted with the Campus Police.” He points towards the exit.

FF’s Mother’s husband had demanded FF’s new phone number but neither Wymack or Smith gave it.

It was only as Wymack lifted his own phone up to his ear after having dialed campus security that the two got the hint and ran off.

Following that there’d been the expedited emergency restraining order request that had been pushed through.

Nicky and Wymack had been the ones that went with FF for support during the request since everyone else had a prior engagement. The security footage was all that had been needed to grant it as far as the judge was concerned despite FF’s Mother’s husband’s pleas that it was merely a ‘fight between brothers’.

Nicky had almost wished he had given Andrew the Maserati back when the jackass had shown up to the hearing with his son wearing a T-shirt that said ‘I’m not the step-dad. I’m the dad that stepped up.’

Oh.

He opens his eyes and tunes back into the conversation. It seems like Aaron had come to the realization that the only way that Andrew would be awake at this god forsaken hour of- Nicky looks at the alarm clock- 5 AM is because he’d been in the same bed as Neil who was a notorious early morning runner.

“You want the Maserati.” Nicky interrupts the whispered argument.

“No, I’m just here to comment on how Smith’s motorcycle helmet really ties the whole room together now that he’s moved in.” Andrew rolls his eyes so hard that even if Nicky hadn’t been looking at his cousin he would have heard the eyeroll. “Yes, I am here because it is now officially impossible for me to hit Daniel with my car. That was the deal.” Andrew says with a scowl, “So you are taking me to where you stored it.” He says.

“Andrew, it’s too early. They’re not open yet.” Nicky groans grabbing one of his pillows and trying to hide his face under it.

It was unsurprisingly ripped away before he could properly hide away from his cousin.

“We have to walk to wherever you hid my car.” Andrew hisses.

“Andrew you’re not seriously going to make me get up and walk the whole way there on the first morning that I can sleep in.” Nicky groans.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t stolen my car Nicholas.” Andrew hisses.

“You guys can take my truck.” Matt says with a huge yawn as he settles back into bed. Morning practice for the rest of the week was not mandatory.

“See, we can take Matt’s truck. The place is only a 30 minute drive away and it doesn’t open until 7 AM anyways.” Nicky groans and tries to roll under the bed. If he can get to the far side then it will be difficult for Andrew, with his 5 foot nothing height to reach-

Andrew puts a foot between him and freedom.

“This room is buying Neil and I breakfast.” Andrew says, “And then we’ll go pick up my car.” He says.

“What? Why?!” Matt and Aaron demand as Nicky groans still trying to roll under the bed despite Andrew’s unyielding foot.

“You all either knew about Nicky’s plan or were part of Nicky’s plan.” Andrew says.

“Okay but Smithster is innocent.” Matt says.

“True, but we need him to come.” Andrew says.

“Why?” Nicky groans changing direction to try and roll under Aaron’s bed only to be stopped by the absolute barrier that was Katelyn’s suitcases of off-season clothes she kept under Aaron’s bed since her own room didn’t have space for it all.

“So we can get into the breakfast place now instead of the usual time for people our age. The owner loves him.” He says.

Ah, FF’s old lady magnetism.

Nicky gets it.

The boy has very pinchable cheeks.

There are very few things one can do when faced with an Andrew Minyard who has decided upon something. Eventually their whole room was up though Andrew at least was far more gentle with FF than he had been with Nicky. FF could sleep through almost any amount of noise but would wake up at the slightest touch and go still.

Nicky really wishes that Andrew had a less conspicuous car because he’s sure his cousin could have gotten away with running Daniel over if he had a Volvo or a Ford.

Nicky went with FF on the back of his motorcycle. One of Aras’ parting gifts to him had been an orange helmet with ‘Foxy’ written on it. Nicky had loved it immediately and unironically. Nicky held onto FF and hoped that his friend was awake enough to actually be driving on the damn thing, but FF had seemed at least 90% conscious.

Either way they arrived at the breakfast place FF was pushed to the front to speak with the owner of the fancy breakfast spot and within 10 minutes they were at a table surrounded by the elderly early bird patrons.

The all-you-can-eat brunch was always both a challenge and a danger when you are a group of college athletes. A challenge because it always felt a bit like a race against the chefs who were churning out chicken, waffles, hams to slice, eggs of all varieties, bacon, sausages, French toast, cinnamon rolls, hashbrowns, quiche, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, and lox bagels. The danger was what Matt was currently finding himself in since the man had failed to pace himself. “I think I’m gonna die.” Matt groaned.

“Smith, where did you get that smoothie?” Aaron asks looking as FF was sipping a delightful looking smoothie.

“The owner gave it to me while you guys were filling your plates.” FF says. “I’m supposed to let her know if I need another one.” He says.

“When are you going to be off that liquid diet?” Aaron asks as he digs into some bacon.

“Well, next week I can just start essentially putting things in the blender and I shouldn’t suffer the consequences like with the borscht.” FF shrugs. “Gran said she’d send along a pie to celebrate when I can eat solids again.” He adds and FF’s face is as blank and as unemotional as it usually was but there was a general air of sadness.

“You know, I don’t think it’d bother Allison or any of the girls if you joined us for winter break.” Matt says from where he was staring up at the ceiling still overfull from going too hard too fast on the egg options.

“I don’t want to intr-“

“It’s not an intrusion.” Andrew says looking at his phone, “We’re inviting you.” He adds before getting up and grabbing his backpack, “Do not let them take my plate.” He says looking at the table. Andrew’s plate was laden with the sweeter side of things for breakfast and he had made up a plate for Neil who was supposed to meet them at the breakfast spot.

Andrew left and nicky figured he was going to go grab Neil outside. “Isn’t it for the original Foxes?” FF asks.

“Yeah, but you’re our friend so it’s fine if you come. I know Dan wants to really get to know the guy who took her place on the line.” Matt says with a laugh that has him looking queasy afterwards.

“You and me can room together.” Nicky says.

“Isn’t Erik coming?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Yeah? So?” Nicky questions.

Aaron looked at Nicky like he was an idiot and opened his mouth likely to say why, “I don’t want to intrude. I can probably just sleep on a couch out in the main area, if your friends are okay with me coming.” FF sips at his drink. “You and Erik have a lot to catch up on.” He says voice giving that slight indication that he felt awkward.

Catch-up on-

Ohhh.

Yeah, he and Erik are going to christen that bed if it hasn’t already been christened.

“We’ll figure something out.” Aaron says easily enough.

Eventually Andrew returned with Neil in tow. He was a little sweaty looking but definitely look like someone who had been running for about two hours at this point. He figures that Andrew must have brought spare clothes for Neil to change into so that he’d be acceptable in the breakfast joint.

“Smith has agreed to join us for Christmas Break.” Nicky announces to the couple as they took their seats.

“Quite brave of Smiths considering how the last holiday break went when he came with us.” Aaron says wrly.

“Yeah Andrew, make a deal not to stab Smithy again.” Nicky holds out a pinky for a pinky promise with his cousin.

Andrew rolled his eyes as FF piped in, “Romero stabbed me.” He says loyally.

Eventually they got to talking about their plans for the Winter Banquet on Friday. Nicky was going with FF as his date and had already gone out and gotten him an appropriately bespoke suit with Aras the week before.

Eventually they wrap up breakfast. Nicky, Aaron, and Matt all pay and they make their way out to the parking lot.

The parking lot where the Maserati was.

“Andrew, how in the world-“

“Like a locked gate would even slow Neil down. Got the opening time and the driving distance from you this morning and narrowed it down to the only long-term parking lot in the area.” Andrew says idly as Neil hands over the spare Maserati keys to him.

Nicky spends a bit more time bitching about the fact that Andrew woke them all up mostly out of spite and as a cover for getting his car back without Nicky’s assistance. However eventually the time for class swiftly approached.

“This isn’t over!” he says pulling on his Foxy Helmet and pointing at Andrew.

“I think it is.” Andrew replies with a shrug as he and Neil climbed into the front of the car.

Nicky rolled his eyes but climbed onto the back of FF’s motorcycle.

Winter Banquet was in 2 days.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

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