#if you vote against me and my rights

[tightjeansjavi]

I’m losing friends left and right today 💙💙💙

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 21

PREVIOUS

“What made you think taking on a mafia hitman was a good idea?” Andrew asks as he and FF were positioning themselves the best the could for an ambush on Romero.

Since, they APPARENTLY had time to talk.

Romero had gotten the text Andrew had sent him and INSTEAD of coming out right away to progress the whole SCHEME to kidnap and murder Andrew’s Junkie like any sensible goon Romero went to the BAR. Romero went to the Bar to get him and Jackson a round of CELEBRATORY drinks. Romero is still there at the bar waiting to be served by an INCREDIBLY nervous Roland if the number of exclamation marks and puking emojis is to be believed.

What the FUCK is there to celebrate?

These two idiots want to kidnap NEIL and so far the only thing Romero knows (thinks) that they’ve caught are two people that Neil would come for but even in Andrew’s text he’d been clear that he needed help getting ‘The boyfriend and the new friend’ to talk let alone getting them to call ‘The Wesninski Brat’ out. Andrew had hated typing the name in reference to Neil but it was the only thing the two ever referred to him as in their chats.

Is it some insane mental game that Romero thought he and Jackson were going to play on Andrew and Smith? Toasting to their torture so they’d give up Neil? Who knows.

He realizes that FF hasn’t answered him, his eyes focused on the door when Andrew’s thoughts had drifted. A reliable guy, steady in a pinch, and focused like most the others weren’t.

(Andrew does not know that FF is thinking about how one would go about becoming a Mafia Hitman. What is that career path like? Do they show up at job fairs? Do you get a job as a short order cook at a business that acts as a front and see to much but you’re also the only one that knows the secret spaghetti recipe the boss likes so you have to sign yourself to the family? Are you out doing your own freelance crime and someone higher up sees your work one day and literally head hunts you? Is it like in Saw where you survive an ordeal and then-)

“Smith?” Andrew draws FF’s attention away from the door.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea at any point.” FF says and Andrew is surprised by the admission and is more surprised by the twist of FF’s lips into a frown, “I just did what I thought I needed to do.” He adds.

(Andrew does not know that the twist of FF’s lips has more to do with the fact that he is realizing that Romero likely STILL has not washed his hands. Romero hasn’t washed his hands and he is going to hand Jackson a DRINK with those hands. Ugh. Honestly a contract killer AND someone who doesn’t wash his hands? Who RAISED him? What does his grandma think of this? FF hopes she’s disappointed in him.)

“You thought you needed to lure a hitman into an alley?” Andrew asks because the plan is stupid even if so far it has worked out for FF. The fact that Romero hadn’t just come out when he sent Jackson the signal is only due to FF’s good luck and their stupidity.

“I didn’t have a lot of time to think up anything more than the first plan I thought of. I saw him looking at Nicky on the dance floor.” FF says with another twist of his lips as he self-consciously rubbed at his cheek. It’s never fun to have someone who has time to pick apart a plan that you barely had time to form. Andrew can understand the irritation and is glad that FF isn’t lashing out at him for it.

(Andrew does not know that FF is not irritated he is just remembering that he had held up his broken toilet bowl phone to his face to pretend call Captain Neil. He’s contemplating asking if Andrew maybe possibly has a wet wipe? Actually the murder van probably has bleach to clean up evidence, maybe he can just dip his face in there for like a minute.)

“Don’t use a plan where you martyr yourself. I already have to deal with Neil’s bullshit tendencies.” Andrew says instead of thanking him. “You should have just called me.” He says.

FF just holds up his phone, “Dropped into a club toilet. Completely unusable.” He says and yeah that makes sense. FF would have probably just texted Andrew but coming out and seeing a hitman going after Nicky probably made it impossible for the freshman to go get help without drawing all the attention to himself first if he wanted to make sure Nicky stayed safe.

Still.

“You dropped it into a toilet? You haven’t even had anything tonight.” He says because that clumsiness is not something he expects from FF.

“You try taking a pee next to someone on the FBI’s most wanted list and see how dry your palms remain when he’s talking about grabbing one of Captain Neil’s friends to lure him out.” He says with a brow raised.

That’s fair.

He figures that Romero hadn’t even noticed FF standing there. FF was incredibly good at just making himself unnoticeable (to Andrew’s occasional great annoyance and to Kevin’s great desire to study him for Exy related purposes).

“You recognized him?” He asks.

FF’s gaze slides to him, “I looked up a lot about the Foxes after I signed.” FF answers before his gaze slides back to the door. Roland had just texted Andrew that he’s getting Romero’s drinks ready (Two bud lites. Those are the celebratory drinks he waited for?? Embarrassing.) “I really looked up to Captain Neil. So, I read a lot more about him than anyone else.” FF admits but the fact that FF looked up to Neil was not in any way shape or form a secret.

FF was the only one who was ALWAYS paying attention to whatever Neil was saying and never argued with it. Even Andrew tended to just get lost in the sound of Neil’s voice when he’s going over Exy plays and not actually listen to the plan. FF’s eyes were always right on Neil and his actions on the court showed that he had been paying attention and knew what he was doing. Kevin also listened but he tended to fight Neil on the finer details of plays, strategy or anything else. FF was the one who would just nod and do his part in whatever possible play Neil had broken down for them.

FF was also categorically incapable of referring to Neil as anything other than Captain Neil.

Neil had bristled early on at it. He had thought it was a mocking title, something FF was saying to rile him up because that’s what Freshman Foxes did. That’s what Freshman Foxes always do. FF slid into the team without a whisper of rebellion and it hadn’t taken long to realize that FF was using the title with sincerity even if his monotone did not perfectly convey that.

It’d been that sincerity and that ease that had FF be the only option he’d considered when Bee said he should consider expanding his friend pool.

So if FF looked a little deeper into Neil’s past and sees Neil’s part in it as something to respect, something to admire?

Well, he personally thought he always had great taste in people. (He ignores the voice in his head that sounds like Nicky complaining about Kevin still not knowing German despite it being the family language.)

“You sure you don’t want one of my knives or the knife Jackson had?” It was pretty big and Andrew didn’t think it would work well with his general style but maybe FF could use it somehow. He was uneasy that FF was going into this fight unarmed. FF still hadn’t talked about how he’d taken out Jackson when the man had a knife like that.

“Do I look like Crocodile Dundee to you?” FF asks with a raised eyebrow and Andrew has to pause a moment for the movie to load into his brain before he offers an amused quirk of his own lips.

FF is a funny guy.

His phone dings. “He’s on his way.”

***

Aside from thinking about how nice the conversation he was having with his friend Andrew (his friend! His friend Andrew! God how is he going to admit to Gran that Andrew was never planning on stabbing him? She threatened to come over and square off with the ‘mean young man’ bullying him. He’s gotta go grab the makings for a secondary pie to even start to make up for this. Maybe Andrew would prefer a cobbler? He should ask his friend his preferences.) he was thinking about how he really wished they hadn’t had a cut away from Gracie Hart showing all the various forms of self defense she knows in the movie.

He had no idea if he could do a repeat performance of S.I.N.G. with Romero.

It’d be nice to have a few more things in his repertoire because all he has is striking Romero with the heel of his hand in the nose, getting grabbed from behind to throw him over his shoulder (which what if Romero is shorter than him? How will THAT work. Gracie Hart guide my steps!), and of course S.I.N.G.

If he survives this he might write a letter to the writer.

The door opens and honestly FF and Andrew agreed that surprise and speed were going to be their best weapons. The two of them go in for a full body tackle but Romero must just be a higher class goon than Jackson was since he manages to body them away. The door shuts which is mostly what they wanted anyways. Romero can’t go back in and grab someone to use as a shield.

He sees Andrew pull out his knives and now FF realizes that any level of threatening Andrew had done before must have mostly been in jest or just as intimidation. When Andrew wants to stab someone it’s obvious that he’s aiming to stab them.

Romero manages to parry Andrew’s first stab with a move that FF had seen on the ‘how to handle someone coming at you with a knife’ videos. FF sees Romero go in to bash one of the Bud Lite bottles over Andrew’s head so he launches his water bottle at Romero’s hand. The bottle falls and shatters harmlessly on the ground.

He kicks Romero’s other hand since the water bottle bought him time to get close. “You fucking brat!” Romero hisses.

He sees Romero reaching for something at the same time Andrew is going in for the second round of stabbing. Romero dodges out of the way but FF can see what might actually for real be an entire gun concealed in his jacket.

He can see Romero going for it. Sees the same smile on his face he’d seen inside as his hand wraps around the handle.

FF doesn’t think.

FF doesn’t think because if he does he’ll freeze.

So FF acts.

“Gun!” He yells and runs full force tackling Romero as hard as he can but unfortunately he tackles Romero into Andrew.

The three of them grapple on the ground. It’s hard to keep track of what limb is who’s and he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally hit Andrew a few times instead of Romero but he’s also pretty sure that Andrew punched him in the stomach so he thinks they’re equal. Finally FF gets a hand on the gun that Romero had been trying to get the safety off of and he knocks it out of Romero’s hand. “You kids will-“

Romero doesn’t get to say anything else because Andrew manages to land a punch right to his jaw that has Romero go limp under the two of them. They look at one another and Andrew manages to pull the handcuffs they’d purloined out of the Van while they were waiting off of the belt loop they were hooked onto and gets them around Romero’s wrists.

They stare down at the second unconscious man on the FBI’s most wanted list in the alley.

Then they roll off of him and onto their backs. Both of them wheezing from a combination of exertion, adrenaline, and (at least in FF’s case) a fair amount of pain (Christ Andrew packs a PUNCH his stomach is already sensitive. It’s a miracle that punch hadn’t made him puke.)

“That was…so stupid.” Andrew pants.

“Yeah probably.” FF admits.

They lay there for about a minute and FF thinks that maybe someone will need to carry him because his stomach is KILLING HIM with all this.

“Alright let’s-“

Andrew is sitting up and looking at him when he stops talking.

FF doesn’t really know what the issue is but starts to sit up, “Don’t you DARE.” Andrew hisses and FF finds himself being pushed back down to the ground to lay flat. “Don’t move Smith.” He demands and is pulling his phone out of his pocket as he keeps a hand on FF’s shoulder.

FF doesn’t really understand what’s got Andrew so upset all the sudden. “Andrew, what’s-“ he tries to sit up again. Is there a third person and Andrew wants him to keep down? There’s not really cover here they should move towards the dumpster maybe?

“Smith, I told you to not move.” Andrew hisses before whoever he’s calling seems to pick up. “I need police and an ambulance. We’re at Eden’s Twilight in the back alley.” He looks to FF, “What’s your blood type?” He asks.

FF has NO idea.

“I don’t know.” He answers and Andrew makes a disgusted sound. “Andrew, what’s-“

Then he sees it.

He doesn’t quite get how he missed it before now.

“Huh.” He hears himself say.

That’s Andrew’s knife handle sticking out of his stomach.

It appears that Andrew Minyard may have stabbed him in the stomach.

“Well, that’s about what I expected.” He says and lets his head rest against the pavement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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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?

[fierykitten2]

Funny thing I realised earlier: the UK elections this year happened on America’s fireworks day (independence day) and the US elections this year are happening on Britain’s fireworks day (Guy Fawkes day)

[caswlw]

i’m just so devastated, exhausted, and emotionally drained. steve kornacki, thanks for your service. big fuck you to anyone who abstained, voted for trump, or voted third party.

[evermoredeluxe]

.

[phantomsies]

my last time speaking on this bc I’m back to my smut and stupid shit afterwards (cause yk this is my safe space 🤪😜🫶🏾👍🏾) , but I’m genuinely scared, not just for this presidency but my local leadership too. Hence why I always make such an emphasis on it. I live in a small town and it’s very much class/racially divided. The sheriff (a white woman btw but a woman nonetheless) has been actively trying to harass and run everyone from my side of town. She pretty much wrote off this area as a bunch of drug addicts and says ‘she hopes we all just kill each other’. (My family has never done, sold or even been around drugs and yet her dumbass cops are convinced bc we’re black with nice vehicles, that we must sell). She’s also pushing for the gentrification of our area so all of her rich cohorts can come and tear down our houses and build a suburbia. Just the other day, a cop made me move my vehicle from in front of a store I park at all the time bc im disabled and even the closest parking spot is far on this leg and he did it just to be an asshole. I can’t even cry abt this presidency yet bc I’m now worried that my local leaders are going to make our lives hell. Not to mention, they voted no on abortions and gender affirming care as well. I hate it here so fucking bad.

[asleepinawell]

oh no don't make her my problem haha that would just be so terrible I say shoving my women's wrongs scrapbook under my bed

[cryptdraws]

genuinely irritates me when people are like "i hate when artists complain ab getting likes and not reblogs i interact with them less and block them" like it makes u seem like an asshole. my engagement on this site is dogshit and u guys constantly are encouraging people to keep making it worse bc u feel ur on some moral high ground. like dont be surprised when ur favorite artist you only follow and dont engage with stops posting bc they feel discouraged from a lack of engagement ur encouraging

[tangledinink]

Leo frowned a bit.  “You know I already tried melatonin, right?” “It’s not melatonin, dummy,” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes as he twisted the pill bottle open, grabbing Leo’s hand so that he could shake one of the little gummies out into his palm. “It’s weed. Obviously.”

Leo and Mikey take edibles. That's it, that's the whole fic. :) A TMWN one-shot; takes place prior to main fic, so no need to be caught up! Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

Though Leo had, admittedly, been a bit jumpy and out of it today, (okay, fine, the past few days,) he was still pretty sure he was justified in his yelp when a hand latched onto his wrist, yanking him sharply inside the apartment as soon as the front door was open and hip-checking it shut behind him.

“Jesus CHRIST, Mikey! Were you waiting for me to get home just so you could do that!? Is this supposed to be revenge for the thing with your Twitter account and profile pic? ‘Cause that was definitely Donnie and not me--”

“The thing with the what now?! What’d you-- you know what, nevermind. Shut up,” Mikey said, promptly darting past Leo and ducking under his arm in order to lock the door shut behind him.

Leo blinked slowly.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

Mikey turned to face him, his hands on his hips.

“Is Donnie at his robotics meet?”

“... Yeah?”

“And Dad, too?”

“Yeah? Mikey--”

“And Raph is at football practice?”

“Angie, what is your deal?” Leo sighed loudly, scrubbing at his face tiredly as he tilted his head back in annoyance. What the fuck was with Mikey all of a sudden!? And why was he being interrogated? Like, okay, look, he knew that he kind of spooked him the other day with that whole… falling down the stairs thing. But he was totally fine! Just some bruises. It was so not that big of a deal! Leo just… hadn’t been paying attention.

… And, yeah, okay, sure. You could, in theory, argue that the fact that he hadn’t slept for more than three hours or so in about as many days had something to do with that. But that was all just conjecture! They had no evidence! 

“Good,” Mikey said, quite decisively, clapping his hands together and narrowing his eyes at the other, his lips pursed as he stared at him for just a moment before he pointed at him, almost accusingly.

“You need to sleep.”

Oh, great. Here we go. Leo rolled his eyes, bristling.

“Wow, seriously? You think so? What a crazy smart suggestion! And so unique and original! Gosh, thank you, Miguel, I never would have thought of that on my own! Sleeping! That’s a great idea! I’ll go do that now, since it’s so simple and easy to do, except actually no it’s not!” He hissed, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

What, did he think he didn’t try? Because he had tried desperately! He would love to be sleeping right now! He had spent countless hours over the past week staring at the ceiling in his dark room, meditating, and listening to the endless droning of sleep podcasts. He had guzzled down melatonin like it was going out of style to no avail. He had taken trazodone, for god’s sake, and even that didn’t put him down for more than an hour or two. 

Mikey pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips, giving the other a long look.

“Are you done yet?”

Leo scowled. 

He blinked slowly at the other.

He crossed his arms over his chest, too, echoing the other’s posture.

And then finally he grumbled and nodded.

“Okay, good. C’mon,” Mikey replied quickly, grabbing Leo’s wrist once more and heading up the stairs at a hurried pace. Leo swore softly, stumbling a bit, but followed and kept pace anyway, jogging up to the second floor and following his brother, who didn’t slow down until they were in his room, the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Mikey said, turning once again to face the other, reaching over to grab him by his shoulders. “You need to sleep. We agree on this. Right?”

Leo raised a brow. “... Right?”

“And you trust me. Right?”

“... Yeah?”

“Because I’m your brother. We’re family.”

“... As far as I’m aware…” Leo said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“And you!” Mikey added in, pointing accusingly. “Are the one who taught me the snitches get stitches rule, right? That’s your rule. You are the main enforcer of said rule! So you believe in the rule! Right?”

“Mikey, what are you--”

“True or false, Leo!”

“... Yeah. Okay. True. What the fuck are you about to try to do to me, Miguel?” He sighed. “Because if your intention is to knock me out via blunt force trauma, Donnie and I already tried that--”

“Okay, well, we’ll unpack that later,” Mikey chirped cheerily, shoving Leo in the general direction of the bed, gesturing to him a bit before he darted off. Leo pouted, but sat down anyway, kicking his shoes off and curling up. If Mikey was gonna try to hypnotize him or something after all this drama, he was going to be so fucking mad.

Slumped down against the copious amounts of pillows and stuffed animals (his collection rivaled only by Raph’s,) on Mikey’s bed, he watched as his baby brother threw open his closet, kicking a storage bin over to hop up on top of. Once he had the necessary height from his make-shift step-stool, he reached up, rummaging around for a bit on the top shelf. After a bit of shuffling and rearranging he finally pulled down a milk crate, and from that, he fished out a small painted chest-- one that Leo recognized as his music box from when they were little, decorated with little painted rainbows and unicorns on every side that, no, Leo had not been jealous of when Mikey got it at the age of six, thank you very much. 

Holding the music box under one arm, Mikey hopped back down and scampered over to re-join Leo on the bed. Inside the music box was an even smaller box-- this one Leo pegged as the box for the tarot cards Mikey had convinced April to buy him at that craft fair they went to two summers ago. He did readings with them from time to time, just for fun, not that Leo thought that they really meant anything. They were more a pretty trinket than anything else. Though Leo noted quietly to himself, didn’t Mikey keep his cards in a little velvet pouch, actually, now that he thought about it?

“Mikey, if you actually think now is a good time to do a tarot reading--”

“Well, I could after this if you want,” Mikey said brightly in reply, and when he cracked open the tarot card deck, there were, in fact, not any cards inside at all. Rather, there was a little orange bottle that Leo immediately clocked as one from one of Mikey’s Adderall prescriptions. But after a slightly closer inspection, he could already see that there weren’t any pills inside said bottle.

It looked more like candy.

Leo frowned a bit. 

“You know I already tried melatonin, right?”

“It’s not melatonin, dummy,” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes as he twisted the pill bottle open, grabbing Leo’s hand so that he could shake one of the little gummies out into his palm. “It’s weed. Obviously.”

Leo stayed quiet for a moment, silently processing this.

And then his mouth fell open into a perfect ‘o.’

“HAMATO MICHELANGELO--”

“YOU AGREED!” Mikey shrieked, rearing back to point wildly at the other. “YOU ALREADY AGREED TO NO SNITCHING! NO BACKSIES!!!”

“Where the fuck did you get edibles!?” Leo cried.

Mikey threw up his hands in response. “I’m in the art club, Leo!!!”

Leo gasped. “Sarah is a weed dealer, isn’t she?! I totally called it!!!”

“No!” Mikey protested. “... Well, okay, yeah. But I get mine from Kody. So I think you only get half points?”

“Oh my god,” Leo gaped. “Since when!?”

“Likkeeee, last February?”

“What?!”

“You are being, like, so much less chill about this than I thought you’d be,” Mikey sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “Look. It’s not a big deal! I promise! It’s, like, a special occasion once-every-few-months kind of thing. And at least for me,” he gestured to himself. “I always end up passing out, like… so hard,” he explained. “You don’t gotta take any if you don’t want to! I’m just saying. It might help. And you haven’t tried it yet. Sooo…”

He sort of shrugged.

Leo frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Okay. Well.

On one hand… If he got caught, by either their dad or by, like, anyone involved in any of his many copious sports teams, he’d definitely be in, like… so much trouble.

On the other hand… Mikey had gone this long without getting caught. And Mikey was, like, way less sneaky than he was. And what were the odds that he was going to be subjected to a drug test or something anytime in the near future, really? He had never been drug tested before, (just threatened with it,) and they were still really early in the season, before any big, high-stakes meets or matches would be cropping up…

And Mikey did have a point. He hadn’t tried it yet. And it might help. And he did, like… really wanna sleep. 

Like. So bad.

… And also. I mean. It’s not like he wasn’t curious.

---

How long until they kick in? He had asked. I dunno if it’s working, he had said. Maybe it wasn’t enough-- should I take another? He had questioned. (No, Mikey had said.)

(That was probably for the best.)

“Mikey.”

“Hm?”

“I want a peanut butter jelly sandwich, like… so much,” Leo muttered dimly, staring up at the ceiling of Mikey’s room. He had been examining the little glow-in-the-dark stars up there for a while there, noting that it had been some time since he had actually taken notice of them. Man. They were so cool. He should get some for his room. Note to self: ask Dad about that later.

Mikey was flopped over on the bed with him, his head sort of laid across Leo’s ankles as he drew something in his sketchbook, and he glanced over at his brother, smirking a little and raising a brow.

“We have the stuff to make one if you want,” he pointed out. (I mean, technically, they only kept almond butter in the house, because this was a peanut-free space, thank you very much, but basically the same thing.)

“Fuck yes,” Leo enthused. “I love those things, dude. Do we have-- do we have the raspberry jelly? ‘Cause that shit is honestly so good.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Mikey hummed, setting his sketchbook to the side so that he could begin to get up.

“Hey,” Leo said, frowning a bit as he rolled over onto his side. “... I think grape jelly is a scam.”

Mikey snorted softly, raising a brow. “Uh, elaborate?”

“Okay,” Leo agreed, eager to lay out his logic. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“I mean, I don’t not like grapes--”

“No no no no!” Leo protested, shaking his head sharply. “What’s your favorite fruit though?”

“Uhmmmm,” Mikey tilted his head to the side for a second. “Cantaloupe. Or lychee! Or mango. It’s a three-way tie,” he declared, and Leo pointed a finger.

“Exactly!” He cried. “Exactly! See? No one’s favorite fruit is grapes! Like-- they don’t exist! No one’s favorite fruit is grapes!”

Mikey laughed. “So?”

“So!” Leo threw out his hands. “No one would want to get grape jelly! ‘Cause it’s no one’s favorite fruit! There are so many other better fruits! So they had to figure out a way to get rid of all the grape jelly! So that’s why they tricked us all into thinking that grape jelly is, like. The jelly. And made peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches with grape jelly. Instead of any other jellies. Which are better. Because peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches with raspberry jelly is like? So much fucking better, dude. Or strawberry, even. Or anything! Because grapes are just okay! So they have to make the people think that that’s the default ‘cause otherwise grape jelly would be completely screwed, bro!”

“Wow,” Mikey hummed, grinning, resting his head in his hand as he stared at the other. “You are so high.”

Leo just giggled in response, letting his head fall back down, pointing at the other. “You did this to me, Angelo. This is your doing. You must reap what you’ve sown… You made me like this…!”

“Heck yeah I did,” Mikey confirmed, puffing out his chest proudly as he got up to his feet. “Come on. Do you want the sandwich or not?”

“Yessss…” Leo hummed, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Oh wow. Moving was great. Everything felt kind of tingly and wobbly in this really fun way? It was like one of those aluminum sheets that you wiggled and it made that really funny wub-wub-wub sound. Except, like… instead of just sound it was just…

Everything.

Yo, weed was kind of dope, actually. 

“Yo, weed is kind of dope, actually.”

“I told you,” Mikey said, seeming rather smug with himself. 

“I’m having a good time.”

“Yeah, it’s fun,” Mikey agreed, reaching to grab the other by the wrist, beginning to pull them up to their feet.

“Bro, why didn’t you take any? This is great. We could do a Smash Bros tournament except high,” Leo enthused, and Mikey scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t get high, I’m watching you!”

“Why?”

“I dunno. To make sure you don’t freak out or whatever. You’ve never been high before,” Mikey reasoned. “That’s just basic weed courtesy! It’s weed 101!”

Leo blinked slowly, considering this.

“Well, how long have I been high?”

Mikey shrugged a bit, fishing out his phone to check.

“Uhhh. Like. An hour and a half?”

“Well, then, am I good?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I probably would have freaked out already if I was gonna, right? So, like… am I good yet?”

Mikey wrinkled his nose, considering this for a bit.

“Well… I guess so. You’re probably fine.”

Leo reached over to grab his little brother’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Then let’s do Smash Bros Tournament except high!”

Mikey snorted, laughing loudly as he batted the other away.

“... Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I wanna do Smash Bros Tournament! Except high! I’m so good, Mikey! Lookit how hard I’m not freaking out! I’m being, like… so normal right now.”

Mikey seemed to consider this for a little bit, and then he shrugged.

“Yeah, okay.”

---

Leo had found that, in the time that he had been high thus far, he had a lot to say. He had a lot to think about and lots of thoughts to share with everyone around him (ie Mikey,) and while he overall just felt really cool and floaty and good, there was also an ever-so-slight element of brightness to it. Like-- everything was just kind of really funny right now. He was feeling very thoughtful and imaginative, so to speak. His brain was all scattered, but not in a way that felt bad-- just loose. He just wanted to discuss things! Like! Dude, IHOP? That place is the best. We should talk about that. And what’s better, pancakes or waffles? And dude, who do you think would win in, like, an actual for-real battle, Ho-Oh or Lugia? Be honest.

He was a bit surprised to find that Mikey, when high, wasn’t really any of those things.

For the most part, he was pretty normal.

Just… slowed down.

When they spoke now, it took just a tiny bit longer than usual for Mikey to respond, and his manner of speaking itself had shifted slightly to drag, allowing for longer pauses in between each word. He just seemed so very content and unbothered that he was in no rush to do anything at all, including thinking or speaking, and there was this slight shade of lazy amusement layered over everything he did. Leo, of course, found this all to be very funny. He spent a good deal of time just asking Mikey random questions and then giggling over the way he gave his answers, finding it absolutely delightful how he paused to think about it and then reported his opinion in this soft, humming tone.

And they were having so much fucking fun.

The pair of them were all piled together on the couch in The Lair, half tangled in each other’s limbs. The bid for pb-and-j had evolved into quite the cacophony of snacks, and the carnage of their munchies laid at their feet in tatters as they battled their way through their fourteenth round of Smash Bros.

“Dude, how do you keep beating me?” Leo whined, leaning in slightly towards the screen, as though that might help.

“‘Cause you always choose Kirby,” Mikey hummed in reply, slumping against the pillows in contrast. “And you suck at playing Kirby.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah-huh.”

“I’m great at Kirby. I’m the master of Kirby. Me and Kirby, we understand each other. We’re basically family. Kirby is basically my long-lost brother is how good I am at Kirby.”

“Then why do you keep losing?” Mikey countered lazily, grinning a little bit, and Leo giggled in response.

“You have an unfair advantage of not being high for the first time ever,” Leo countered, and Mikey just laughed in response.

“Kirby is cool. He’s like-- a little guy. The coolest little round dude ever. I love that dude. And I can make him blue!” Leo enthused. “And he’s. Like. My dude. Once you find your guy, you have to stick with that guy, Mikey! It’s. Like… a calling. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“You’re only a year older than me.”

“Okay? So, like… give it a year.”

Mikey snorted softly, shaking his head a bit and sticking out his tongue as he wrapped up the game neatly, murdering the shit out of blue Kirby and bringing home yet another Smash Bros victory. Leo groaned loudly, flopping back over the couch and kicking his legs up, comfortably contorting himself into an absolutely asinine position-- one of his favorite things to do. 

“We should play Mario Kart next. I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mikey agreed easily, waving a hand a bit. “Put it on then.”

“Why do I gotta do it?”

“‘Cause I gave you free weed.”

Leo groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, finneeeeeee,” he mumbled, getting to his feet, (with only a little bit of a wobble,) making his way over to the console so he could begin picking his way through their, quite frankly, ridiculous collection of video games, looking to fish out Mario Kart so he could get it set up.

And, like, yes, okay. Maybe he got a little bit distracted. But someone put the Red Dead Redemption 2 disc in the Cyberpunk case and obviously he could not let that stand! That needed to be corrected, like, immediately, and then the disc that was in the Red Dead Redemption case had to be relocated, too…

But, I mean, it didn’t take that long. Probably. 

And now their DVDs were organized!

“Okay, all set,” Leo hummed, turning back around to face his brother… who had an absolute hundred-yard stare, gazing off into nothing with his mouth slightly agape. Leo frowned a bit.

“Mikey.”

Silence.

“... Mikey.”

Nope.

“... Mikey!”

There he is. Mikey blinked a bit in surprise, glancing back over at him, processing for a moment, and then laughing. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t listening. I just had a really cool idea for a mural… Hang on. I wanna sketch it out so I don’t forget…” He said, quickly fishing out his phone and beginning to draw with his finger, his tongue stuck out in concentration. Leo huffed a bit.

“Okay, fine, just don’t take forever. I wanna do stoned Mario Kart,” Leo insisted, moving to flop back over onto the couch, curling up on his side. Mikey gave a little hum in response, but didn’t spare him much else, clearly sucked into his project.

Leo did his best to entertain himself in the meantime. He scrolled blindly through Instagram for a while, liking a bunch of pics that he would probably get in trouble for later, though who’s really to say? Once he got bored with that, he drafted and deleted about eight different tweets, just barely managing to wrestle his inner demon down into its cage and exercise some impulse control. And he flicked through TikTok for a while, but didn’t really find anything of interest on his ForYou page. And Mikey was still going strong, so…

For a little bit. He was just. Bored.

He hummed softly, curled up on the couch, pulling at one of his curls absently and examining it as he went-- pulling it out straight, and then letting it bounce back, giggling a tiny bit to himself at the motion of it. He remembered when he was little and he and his brother’s would have arguments over who had the curliest hair-- as if it were really ever a competition. They’d do that for everything though-- always trying to see who was the ‘most’ or ‘best’ at any one thing.

He remembered, vaguely, back before April’s mom taught him how to do it properly, his dad sitting with them for hours in front of the computer, one by one, watching YouTube tutorials and trying to tame their hair for them. He smiled a bit at the thought. He had hated it at the time, whining about being bored and having to sit still, annoyed with his father messing with his hair and pulling at it… but now, the memory was… kind of sweet.

He hadn’t thought about that in a really long time, he thought vaguely to himself, sighing very softly. 

It was almost weird to suddenly confront such an old, forgotten memory like that out of the blue. But not unwelcome. It was nice, actually, and he laid his head down against the pillows with a sigh, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of it for a while, running through images of his childhood, playing them on loop.

And somewhere along the way, he realized, vaguely in the back of his head, that he was sleepy.

Usually, at times like these, this moment would be followed swiftly by disappointment. He’d be laying in his bed, trying desperately to get to sleep, absolutely praying for it to take him and knock him the fuck out, and he’d realized that it was happening, he was getting sleepy-- only for the excitement of it to promptly kick a shot of adrenaline through his body, spooking the sensation and scaring it off, leaving him perfectly awake once more and writhing with frustration (which of course only worsened matters.)

But he didn’t feel that right now. He was just kind of aware of it, smiling the tiniest bit at the thought, curling up a bit tighter in on himself and wrapping his arms around the pillow he was snuggled up against to cling to.

Everything was so oddly calm. Pebbled and loose and wobbly, but in a good way, and right now, mostly just calm. And sleepy. His eyelids were heavy. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Like he was sinking into sleep rather than fighting his way into it tooth and claw. Like it was inviting him in instead of him kicking down the door with a battle cry, bloody and bruised. He was just… ready to sleep. He was never ready to sleep.

Man, this was cool. Marijuana fucking slapped.

He played with his own hair for just a little longer before he yawned, humming very softly.

“Mmmm… Hey Mikey?”

“Yeah?” Mikey replied, after a long beat of delay, not looking up at him.

“‘M gonna go to sleep now, I think.”

“Okay. That’s a good idea.”

“Okay. Thanks.” 

“Yeah. It’s cool. G’night.”

“G’night,” Leo mumbled, laying his head down and allowing his eyes to slide shut.

[darkacademiaarchivist]

i had a conversation with my aunt today about how the system and politics and basically everything is fucked at the moment (which is true) and she was SO CLOSE to so many points but she never acknowledged that capitalism is the root of so many of those problems... Bestie you're So Close...

[dreamteamemojis]

.

[synthshenanigans]

I cant believe fine im fine lost by 1.4% crying

-Please listen to both instrumentals if you can! While there are the popular songs, there's a lotta good ones out there that aren't talked about enough!-

Instrumental Links:

Nerd

The Bidding

[Reblog for more of a sample size of you'd like]

[beeseverywhen]

"All political parties face a trade-off under a first-past-the-post electoral system. Governing depends on attracting a broad coalition of voters, inevitably involving compromises that leave a party’s base disgruntled.

So it is perhaps unsurprising that as we move closer to a general election, the discontent from the anti-Labour left who claim there is little to distinguish Keir Starmer from Rishi Sunak in the battle for the premiership is only getting noisier."

"The argument is threefold: there’s no meaningful difference between the Conservatives and Labour; Starmer supposedly can’t be trusted because he has dropped pledges he made in the 2020 leadership election to shift his party towards the centre; finally, the “Tories are toast” and Labour can’t lose, so disgruntled left voters can safely vote for other parties, such as the Greens.

With Labour so far ahead in the polls, the urge to debunk these sentiments may seem like an expression of paranoia. But all three aspects of this narrative are comprehensively wrong, including the reassurance that it is safe for anyone who would prefer a Labour government to vote for another party in Labour-Tory contests."

"But what this underplays is the number of Labour-Tory marginals where a relatively small vote for other left candidates could cost Labour a win. James Kanagasooriam, of the polling company Focaldata, has written about the “sandcastle” nature of Labour’s likely majority; his forecast is that there will be many more marginal seats in the 2024 parliament compared with 2019. If more than predicted numbers of those who voted Green in the locals decide they can afford to do so in the general election because Labour is so far ahead in national polls, that will boost the Conservatives.

Next up is the idea that Starmer’s dropping of some of his leadership pledges makes him dangerously untrustworthy. But this is the product of a system in which the tiny unrepresentative slice of the electorate that is a party membership pick their leader before voters choose their prime minister. Anyone hoping to be PM would have to shift position between a leadership selection and a general election: a Labour leader’s most important job is to connect with potential voters, not to coddle members with the comfort blanket of a policy platform such as the “free broadband for all” 2019 pledge that was roundly rejected.

Liz Truss provides a cautionary tale of what happens when a party leader seeks to impose a membership-endorsed platform on the country without a general election. For Starmer to have stuck to his 2020 leadership election pledges, instead of spending the past four years understanding voters, would have been fundamentally anti-democratic.

The most egregious aspect of the anti-Labour left argument is there isn’t much to choose between Starmer and Sunak. Yes, Labour’s “Ming vase” election strategy has seen it take a much more cautious fiscal approach than many of us would like: it has effectively adopted the Tory macroeconomic worldview and with it a set of spending constraints that no one sensible thinks either party could stick to in the wake of the election.

That is frustrating for anyone hoping this election campaign may illuminate some of the tough trade-offs facing Britain; but it would have been incredibly risky for one side to go it alone on this. The alternative is Labour walking into the trap and handing the Conservatives a “Labour tax bombshell” election campaign.

From a commitment to scrap the Rwanda plan to making clear that in an ideal world Labour would discard the two-child benefit cap, there are plenty of reasons that it is preposterous to think that a Starmer government would make the same trade-offs as successive Conservative governments that have financed billions of pounds worth of tax cuts for more affluent families by cutting tax credits and benefits for low-income parents. The six pledges Starmer launched two weeks ago may be incremental, but Labour needs voters to believe they are deliverable, and they are indicative of a very different set of priorities than those that animate Sunak."

"Starmer is not without weaknesses, as shown by the days he took to clarify an interview last October in which he gave the impression he thought Israel had the right to withhold power and food from Gaza. But there is no doubt whatsoever he would make a vastly more compassionate and competent prime minister than Sunak. To encourage people to put that outcome at risk by casting a protest vote against a Labour government that does not yet exist is perhaps the ultimate form of luxury belief campaigning."

[notebookpapers]

Finland if Harris loses I am coming for you

[badolmen]

The ‘vote blue no matter who!’ crowd is starting to get on my nerves. Like, I’m trying not to give away the game, but do they even know that we’re playing?

The point of loudly denouncing Biden and the Democrats NOW is to threaten them into stopping a fucking genocide that’s happening NOW. It is the only (legal) way we can threaten them as their constituents. It’s a game of fucking chicken! If the Dems were legitimately concerned about ceding office to Trump, they would take action NOW to try and recapture voters. But they don’t because they think they can get away with literal genocide and still win the Oval Office because voters like you are too chicken or too paralyzed to make a simple threat.

I don’t give a fuck what you do in the ballot box come November but jfc this is about collective bargaining and you cowards can’t even pretend to give enough of a fuck about a genocide to threaten your reps like??? Grow a fucking spine and do the bare fucking minimum of voicing your solidarity.

[seokmattchuus]

the amount of people i saw saying "oh bc i have this view/bc i voted for xyz i can't engage with your content?"

the play the victim

someone who welcomes queer, poc, disabled, etc different types of people on their account would not want to associate with someone who sides with an old man who doesn't see the above mentioned as his equal

that's like keeping a friend around who keeps twisting the knife in your back 🤷🏻‍♀

No because I'm so SICK of people babying theses shitty ass SNOWFLAKES. They want to be catered to after throwing us to the curb? We need to be meaner to them. We need to be vocal about how horrible they are. So many of them have gotten so fucking comfortable being horrible on main and I'm so done just letting shit like that slide. They're so self-centered and used to receiving no consequences and it needs to change.

If anything's radicalized me overnight, it's this. Fuck being the bigger person. I'm 5'1 anyways.