Jimmy hadn't realized he was alive. Not at first. He'd been frozen to the spot, static buzzing in his ears and eyes shut against the incoming pain.
He flinched, when a too warm hand touched his shoulder.
"Hey, Jimmy." Tango's voice cutting through the static, a hand cupping his cheek, "You're quite the treasure, hm? You make letting those fools paw through my hoard worth it."
Jimmy hunched in on himself, his wings coming up in a protective mantle. He was too scared to make any noise, too frozen to open his eyes. He didn't want to see his troupe. Not like this.
"Hey now-- hey sh sh shhhhh. . ."
Jimmy felt a rush of cold air, before something scooped him up and tucked him close. It felt almost like a giant hand, but a little bit too cold and smooth. He didn't dare look, ignoring the vertigo of sudden movement.
It took him being dropped onto a pile of something soft and warm to shock him into opening his eyes with an 'oof--'
Jimmy wished he hadn't. He'd been deposited in a nest-- one much bigger than any avian would make, obviously big enough to house a dragon comfortably--
And Tango was staring at him.
Tango. As a dragon. Right.
He couldn't look more different that the form he'd taken as a human to trick them into his lair. His scales were silver, as far as Jimmy could tell, what with the horrible lighting and the shock and the way everything was sort of swimming--
So he was a good dragon then, not one that would torment Jimmy just to eat him later. Maybe. He had just-- Nope. Not the time to think about that.
The dragon circled Jimmy once, almost like a dog bedding down, before plopping next to him, one big eye staring at Jimmy.
"You're not going to keel over from stress, are you? I hate losing my treasures."
Jimmy pulled his wings tight around himself, "N-no. I'll-- I'm not going to die."
"Good." Tango huffed out a soft breath of mist, draping a big wing over Jimmy like throwing a blanket over a birdcage.
Jimmy let out a soft 'eep-'. Then he went quiet. He was probably in shock.
He was most definitely in shock. Jimmy's memories were fuzzy, at least for the next few-- somethings. The next stretch of time.
It came in waves, almost.
The memories were tinged with fear and static first; who wouldn't be terrified of a dragon? Tango brought him food and water, and bundled him up in warm furs and draped him in jewelry. Like Jimmy was a glorified statue. To be fair, it was how he'd been acting.
Then Jimmy either got over his fear or got used to it-- he couldn't remember which. Probably both-- and out came the anger. Tango had murdered his entire troupe on a whim! He had probably done it to more adventurers in the past. And now he was treating Jimmy like a pet-- a very spoiled pet, but still a pet--
There was a lot of yelling, and a lot of static, and there was an attempt at escaping-- It would have never worked, but Jimmy had to try. Multiple attempts at escaping. Anger turned into a desperate need to be free, a yearning for the sun and the open sky after so long without it.
Tango was patient through it all, in a way that pissed Jimmy off even more. It was like-- like anything Jimmy did was so entertaining. Like Jimmy was a disgruntled kitten.
The anger lasted a long time, swinging down into despair and back again. Nothing he did could make Tango angry at him. Nothing he did could get anything other than a condescending grin and an amused laugh and a wing draped over his head in the nest at the end of the day. Tango even started bringing him along when he went to work on his lair; he put Jimmy on a magic leash, one that let Tango keep him close. Tango said it was 'to keep him safe'
There was only one time where Tango did anything to hurt Jimmy. And it wasn't even anything bad, the static said. It hadn't really hurt him.
Tango had clipped his wings.
Jimmy had attempted to throw himself to the floor from the very top of the swooping ceilings of the treasure room. It was the highest place he could get to, trapped underground as he was.
Tango had caught him before he could to anything to truly hurt himself, carefully slicing his flight feathers short and crippling the avian for who knew how long.
It was humiliating.
The static had taken most of the next stretch of time from him-- but it didn't take everything. Jimmy knew that he'd finally found a way to piss Tango off. Somehow. Whenever he reached to grasp at those memories, they always seemed a little bit out of reach.
Tango just wanted to be his friend. Why had he been fighting so hard against him? Jimmy should be happy to have a friend as great as Tango! Who else could say that they were best friends with a dragon?
Jimmy's feathers grew back in as gold as the treasure Tango loved to drape on him. It was comforting, for the dragon to help him preen them.
He couldn't quite remember when he'd made the pact, but he had. How else could he have ended up with more magic than he knew what to do with, and the ability to hear Tango calling for him anywhere in the lair or the Citadel above?
Jimmy was given free rein of the place, after the pact. Tango seemed overjoyed to have someone to show all his clever traps and passages and hidden doors and puzzles and treasure to. There was always some new trick to learn, or some new spell Tango wanted him to try, or some new magic artifact for Jimmy look at or wear or use.
Jimmy didn't quite know when he'd picked up singing, either. It wasn't singing like most humanoids sang. It was birdsong. And it was something Tango could hear no matter how far away from him Jimmy wandered.
The dungeon continued to bring in adventurers. Wanna-be heroes, after gold or magic or who knew what. Time was a fickle thing, down in Tango's lair, and Jimmy had no way of telling how long it'd been since he arrived. Whenever he asked, Tango would give him an answer that wasn't really an answer. Surely he'd been here for less than a year.
Tango started letting Jimmy help. The adventurers made for good magic practice. And not all of them were the punch first, ask questions later kind of adventurers.
Jimmy couldn't help but warn them about the danger. That this was a dragon's lair.
Tango found it amusing, how some of them tried to backtrack, after they found out what they were up against.
He didn't let them, of course.
Jimmy found it at least a little bit interesting, how Tango's lair was set up to reward those who played his games and solved his puzzles and were clever in ways Tango hadn't thought of yet. His troupe had had so much trouble because they'd ignored all of it, in favor of slogging through the dungeons and killing the monsters.
The fastest he'd ever seen a troupe get down to Tango's lair proper was less than a week.
That was the first troupe where Jimmy had a significant hand in guiding them past the worst of the danger. He'd grown fond of them. They had treated Jimmy like one of their own.
Tango let them each choose one piece of treasure.
They'd earned it, Tango whispered through the bond. He did give treasures away to those who had earned the reward. And besides, they'd treated Jimmy so well. Even before knowing this place was a dragon's lair.
It was up to them to get out with the treasures, however.
Tango didn't let Jimmy help them on the way out.
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on this, the 11th birthday of fall out boy's esteemed fifth studio album save rock and roll, i just want to remind everyone of the one thing that never fails to Get Me about it.
there was a lot of scorn and derision about the title when it first got promoted, and fob was well aware this would happen. critics and caustic news outlets collectively scoffed about it, save rock and roll. like this four-piece from chicago, this dorky pop band, is gonna save rock and roll?
of course they missed the point, which is in the very god damn title. it's not a declarative statement. it's not a pronouncement of how we, fall out boy, saved rock and roll. it is a call to action. it is an earnest request for you, the listener, to participate in this act alongside them. it is an expression of desire to inspire creation in turn.
that's the ethos they've carried at the forefront of every creative endeavor they've undertaken since returning from hiatus. certainly that element was present before then, but save rock and roll marked the moment where they very deliberately centered that squarely in their narrative.
because fall out boy doesn't just want to save rock and roll. they want you to save rock and roll with them.
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hiii mera!!
imagining azul as a type of cannibalistic octopus, on your first night together he’s spent so long hyping himself up and grueling over whether or not he’s content giving himself to you, eventually coming to terms with it and deciding to make the event as romantic & easy to clean as possible. when the deed is done, he’s so anxious and pathetic and practically withers away as he looks at you,,, he knows what comes now… but when your teeth don’t tear at his flesh, he looks at you with confusion, a bit disappointed by the lack of development, but far more relieved. He asks and you explain that humans don’t cannibalize their partners,,, and it clicks. so many others can come back and brag about their partners and he’s a bit embarrassed by the revelation, but SO relieved. it’s a cute thing, he’s so excited to continue living with you
random thought though,, not very thought out LOL he knows not of porn in this situation
wet dreams consist of getting it on and him jumping awake as you lurch towards him with a hungry maw,,, imagining on the first night he just brings a bunch of snacks in hopes that it’ll save him, chip bags littered about like rose petals
thank you for reading,
lionfish anon :]
AAAAAA YES YES. OTL Azul who is only familiar with mer courtship and sex customs, so he's fully prepared to give himself to you after he spends so much time mulling it over. Aaaaa he's so cute, preparing so many snacks to make sure you're well-fed and too distracted to think about eating him after the fact. Azul being too worried to do anything face to face, so he fucks you from behind instead. Later, when he learns you won't be devouring him after sex, he becomes more confident holding you closer and fucking you in intimate positions that allow him to look at you. <3
I think he'd have some of the best snacks as well. orz all of your favorites along with some of his favorites, too. The snacks being scattered like rose petals is so silly to imagine, and he'd probably look so proud about it as well. Something like,,,, look at what a good mate he is, providing you with an abundance of food (please don't eat him) and he'll take good care of you when you've eaten your fill of snacks (please PLEASE don't eat him).
Unintentional tako rizz (which was really just Azul trying to ensure you wouldn't cannibalize him afterwards lol). He's just too cute!!!!!
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Fluent Freshman - Part 23
PREVIOUS
There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.
The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.
The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.
Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.
“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.
So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.
“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.
“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.
“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.
“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.
The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.
Wymack.
Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.
“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.
“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.
“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.
“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.
“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.
“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.
Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.
That stupid bet.
The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.
Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.
The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.
Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))
“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.
“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.
“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.
“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.
“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.
“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.
“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.
Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.
“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.
Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.
It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).
Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.
“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.
“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.
Andrew blinks.
“She’s coming here?” He asks.
“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.
He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.
“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.
Shorter one today
NEXT
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.
As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?
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