#interest to fix my fucking mouth and honestly its probably going to be more bc i have no fucking money for that so i have to wait and my mou

[johannacantsing]

I truly deeply love the freedom of being an adult

did I have a mini panic attack at work about my taxes about thirty minutes ago? yes! but like I have leftover frittata for lunch in an hour and like I used to beg my mom to make frittatas and I thought it must be really hard and time consuming bc she never made them

and I looked up easy frittata recipe (I only look up easy versions of recipes bc I’m lazy when it comes to cooking) and that shit was so easy?? the hard part was going to the store that has cheap(er 🙄) eggs! now I can have a frittata whenever I want bc I’m an adult and it’s great

that’s just an example but I really do love being an adult

[aita-blorbos]

(tma oc ask content warning for canon typical levels of buried fuckery)

am i the asshole for driving away my friend?

hey reddit . im posting from a throwaway bc i dont want people connecting this to my work (though i doubt youve heard of me anyways) but i think i messed up terribly and i want to know if this is something i can still fix

also sidenote sorry if my grammar or punctuation or word choice or anything of that sort are poor. i have not been sleeping well for some time

i (19m) am a video game developer. its been my passion for years now and i am currently in uni studying computer games development and programming and level design . although i have considered dropping out but thats a point for later . i post on itch io and such and sometimes i make flash games but idk if anyone reading this has played a single one

its been a bit of a hard time for me, if im being honest. i really like games and i really liked making them but i dont think im very good at programming or art or level design or any of the other things that go into the process of making a game . at least a profitable and fun one .

so i ended up coming to this computer science study group in the hopes maybe someone could teach me to be better at programming. and i met this girl. i dont know exactly how old she is, but i want to say she was maybe two or three years ahead of me in her schooling, so probably about 22. anyways lets call her E

E was studying pure computer science and wanted to do it at a high level . so of course she was pretty good at helping me with my really rudimentary programming stuff . and she was friendly and funny and we liked hanging out so we ended up being good friends . she actually complimented my games, once i got them to function, and said my pixel art was cute . my point is we were close . maybe we wouldn’t have been so close if we had anyone else, but i was still new and she was pretty lonely .

really shortly after i met her though i started having fucked up dreams. ok that’s not entirely accurate because i had been having fucked up dreams on occasion for a while . but they got worse and she showed up in them. it was all me locking her in stairwells hitting her over the head and piling earth over her body filling her mouth with mud and cement. terrible things

so i stopped sleeping. i tried not to at least. im pretty sure most uni kids pull all nighters. i know i did even when i was younger. but i wasnt studying for exams or whatever. i was just trying and trying to force myself awake and i started to lose it a bit. my grip on things. it felt like i was sleepwalking through classes and even like i was dreaming when i was awake. id nod off for a moment in a lecture and id feel dirt caked on my hands under my fingernails. and no matter how much i scrubbed and how much i knew with my eyes it wasnt there it just. refused to come off . and it felt like her blood

i don’t remember how we got on the topic but i remember she told me how she always worried a little bit about being trapped . like claustrophobia of a flavor that shows itself in locked doors and thick walls and collapsing underground stations. that made me feel even more odd about the whole thing . of course i felt awful about hurting her but that part of it was like a joke i didn’t get

and then weirdly enough i got really into nineties 3D games. they have these skyboxes that make it really obvious they’re not actually infinite . and i thought that was kind of interesting in context. like the whole world is a box you’re in so why worry so much about if the stairwell door will lock behind you

i kind of started thinking that was something i would like to replicate with my art . like if i put all my issues into one game they would be out of my brain and gone . maybe it could even be pleasant without the whole preying on my friends terror thing

so now we get to the part of the story where i fear i really really messed up . i made this game . and honestly i dont remember the development very well . sleep deprivation is a dreadful thing . i remember again and again while i was making it kind of coming to my senses not knowing where i was and finding massive parts of the game that i didnt remember making at all.

it was set in a stairwell but i dont remember buying or making the models for the door . there was a really weird kind of way the game functioned with an infinite path going up but how that functioned i couldnt tell you . and i dont remember composing the audio or where i might have downloaded it from except that i never liked to listen to it for very long . i dont know why i kept it in the game

i always showed my games to E but i really wanted her to see this one in particular. so she came by my flat and played it and then i remember she just glared at me . there was something to the look she gave me . it was like she was completely horrified and was trying to pretend she was just angry instead

she hasnt spoken to me since . and i think i fucked up . i knew it was playing at her issues and i think maybe i even made it at least subconsciously to pry at them. like the same part of me with dirt under my fingernails was also sitting there typing away on that keyboard .

but at the same time its just a game . and im better at programming now too . like something just clicked there

honestly though development lately has been weird. its been hard trying to go back to the old sort of pixel art platformers and shoot em ups and that kind of thing i used to make. every time i open any program its like im just staring at it and imagining skyboxes. putting it all in a box imprisoning every world i make that kind of thing. like i said earlier ive been considering dropping out. but i dont know. i think id need to sleep on it

i still have weird fucked up dreams but E isnt in them anymore . i dont know where shes gone . i think maybe my idea worked somehow and i did transfer all that shit to my art . and then that just all went right to her . but i dont know if i like that idea or hate it

anyways reddit am i the asshole?

[forbidding-souda]

Hi!! If its okay could i get Mondo, Sakura, Kazuichi, and Kaito with a short S/O (Think 4'11 to 5'0) who's the SHSL Florist? Bonus ponits if you you give me their reaction to their S/O giving them a large bouquet of flowers as a gift? NB pronouns if that's okay!

Mondo Oowada, Sakura Oogami, Kazuichi Souda, and Kaito Momota with Short SHSL Florist S/O

‘Bonus’! How cute is that :D /pos

Also your taste in men is iconic yes our minds - I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THE KAITO ONE TWICE THE SIZE AS THE OTHERS BUT I LOVED THE IDEA

Also also I use the word bumblebee bc once I thought of it I thought it was really cute. Bc get it?? They are small and also flowers yeah <3

Do I get ten points now? =D

-Mod Souda

Mondo Oowada

He thinks you are like a little bumblebee.

So nice and small! Adorable.

Short jokes all the time.

He definitely thinks flowers are a little lame.

But is definitely impressed by your knowledge of them!

So when you pile together a purple toned bouquet, you’re honestly a little curious on how he would react.

Or if he would even react at all. Does he know to put them in water? Maybe these should be your flowers too.

The roar of the engine is a comfort noise. So when it abruptly stops outside, you can just feel how the butterflies hatch in your stomach.

So you travel to your almost garden in the guest room, picking up the bouquet. It still looks beautiful. That’s good. Admittedly, you do get quite impatient at times.

Ah, the front door! And his welcoming voice telling you he’s home. How nerve-wracking. Your whole plan has a lot of questionable details, but as long as the response isn’t negative then what’s the harm in showing him your love?

“Mondo!” You call out with a bubbly tone before walking down the hallway searching for where he might be.

Your boyfriend, who you are terribly unimpressed with, lays slumped on the couch, tired from the heat. 

Again, you speak, interrupting his decline into sleep. “I made you these!”

He opens one of his eyes. “You got me flowers?”

A bit of heat crosses your cheeks, and you squeeze them harder. “I thought maybe you would like them.”

“Of course I fucking like ‘em,” he says while sitting up. His think fingers brush against yours when he takes them from you. “These are some cute ass flowers.”

Cute ass flowers. How romantic!

Sakura Oogami

She can give you piggy back sides whenever you want and likes to carry you around.

Definitely lets you put flowers in her hair.

Flowers in her hair sounds so cute I am crying.

A part of her actually is jealous of your talent. She wants to know everything about flower patterns, too.

And so she listens every time you explain things.

You pick together the pinkest flowers you can, trying to make it as aesthetically pleasing as you can rather than focusing on intent.

A few white roses find themselves in the batch, too.

The shop around you is cold. The layers of warm clothes aren’t going to help you when you go outside.

But the flowers always need special things that are not convenient for you.

While you contemplate whether or not you can leave clothes here, the bells attached to the door ring out.

A customer! Or maybe Sakura is here to bring you lunch. 

You pop your tiny head towards the main shop, looking left and right. 

She holds a styrofoam box in her hand, holding god knows what meal. 

Horrible for the environment, by the way, how embarrassing.

“Sakura!” You exclaim. And then it surprises you. You got so excited over something as simple as seeing her.

Even in the way your heart pounds at her soft eyes.

“I brought you a meal,” she says. You dip into the back room, and she follows your lead.

But before she comes through the door, you offer her the flowers, almost shoving them into her face. “Flowers!”

“Flowers... What a thoughtful gift, thank you very much.”

She looks nothing more than flattered. Her face usually sports a content look, often a light flush on her face, so seeing her smiling so wide feels special. 

“Oh,” you snap yourself out of your admiring gaze, “and thank you so much for the food!”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi is definitely the sexiest man alive when he’s working on a car. His jumper will be tied around his waist, his hair slicked back.

He never wears his beanie when he’s working. It’s probably the best thing about him.

I just wanted to get that out of my system.

You like to surprise him whenever he’s working. Even though he doesn’t mind the work, you’re sure he’d have a better time being together with you.

The optimism is definitely appreciated.

Especially when it’s easy to scare him. You’re tiny and he gets over concentration. Just sneaking under the car and grabbing his ankle is your favorite.

But for Valentine Day, you didn’t want to be cruel like that. 

So while puffing your cheeks, you hop on downstairs, carrying a bouquet of different shades of yellow flowers. A few pink ones are thrown in for his hair. 

And so you approach him, trying your best to shrink yourself even shorter.

You don’t even know what he’s doing. What do cars need when they get fixed? A new engine? Something about a gas tank? You have no clue.

But whatever it is, it takes a lot of hard work.

And it’s your job to distract him.

You are almost an arms distance away until, and it scares the shit out of you, he immediately turned around screams as loud as he can.

The flowers run too close to slipping from your fingers. God, that was about to be the worst day of your entire life.

Before anger can crack through your demeanor, the sense of humor the both of you have came back. So you started laughing, placing a weary hand to your chest.

You were laughing because you noticed his hands holding a plastic container of sweets. 

“Ah, you nut head!” You call out. “I got you flowers!”

“Why did you get me something? You were supposed to come and scare me!”

Kaito Momota

You hum underneath your breathe while you pick together the best array of flowers you can. Purples and dark colors, just for him.

The moon shines through the school’s window. With the dorms downstairs, every night has became a game of who is going to catch you this time?

Every night you’ve been sneaking up to the garden, trying to raise these flowers just for this occasion.

For the last few months, all you’ve ever wanted was to be with Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!

And now is your time to impress him! The flowers are all ready!

You wrap them together in green tape. The trembling of your hands makes the job quite difficult. And then the white ribbon to top it all off, but you have to take a deep breath while wrapping it.

There’s no backing out of this.

The fight to continue raged on while you walk upstairs, going up the many of them. It gives you time to think.

To think about how much you love him.

Horribly sickening how much you love him. His positive outlook on life motivates you all the time. If you ever feel like giving up, you just remind yourself that Kaito Momota wouldn’t want you to!

The door to the roof is unlocked, as you assumed. No - as you knew. You’ve watched him climb up here every day when he first interrupted your gardening. “I’ll be up on the roof whenever you need me, I tend to go every night.”

You never forgot about it.

Pulling open the door comes with a click. A pang of anxiety rings through you. But why? Should you really be sneaking if your intention is for him to notice you?

He lays on his jacket, arms behind his head and one of his feet crossed over his knee. And he pipes up when he sees you.

“Bumblebee! It took you long enough.”

The flowers in your hands don’t even cross his mind until after he stands up. There’s a nervous blankness as your expression. 

When he steps closer, he can even see the way your pupils dilate. “Are these flowers for me?”

It feels as if your words are trapped inside your mouth. He’s actually in front of you, towering, and flattered. So you shove the flowers against his chest.

Your body feels like it’s in front of a fire.

“I grew them for you. And I tried to make it look like space, you know? With all the dark colors.” You whisper. 

He smirks with satisfaction that only he could portray. To say he is proud is an understatement. You have always been obvious about your interest in him. It was just a matter of when you would gain the confidence to make a move. That’s why he invited you to join him on the roof all those months ago.

Still, he looks a bit smug. But that doesn’t last long, as his face falls to contentment as he turns back around. “Come, come.” He beckons.

You follow him up to his jacket, where he places the flowers down. His eyes are cast upwards, at the sky. You follow his gaze.

How can he gaze up for hours? It’s almost unbelievable. 

You sigh. “Can you explain to me - woah!” 

His arms grip onto your thighs as he lifts you up. The lack of struggle terrifies you, in more than being in the air.

“Kaito, what are you doing?” 

“Look up at space! Tell me what colors you see.”

A small noise escapes your lips. You relax a bit, accepting your position while placing your hands on his shoulders.

What colors? There are a lot. Not exactly the purple you thought it was. Maybe a dark blue, light blue, too. 

You haven’t thought about what color space is.

“Blue.” Is the only word you let yourself say.

He lets you down slowly. “Blue is a good answer. I’d like to think space is every color - Eh? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You blink, once... and maybe a dozen more times. “No reason, I just like you.”

[wayward-pendragon]

Klance Fic Rec!

I said I would do this and here it is (a little late)! This is a list of some of my favourite Klance fics with a mix of canon and AU. I have read so many more Klance fics than Iisted here so if this list is well recieved I’ll make another rec list?!  Okay, let’s begin!

AU

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts

Summary: Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

I loved this one. I’m a sucker for coffee shop AUs man. This one is just super super sweet and I love it. 

call me, beep me by orphan_account 

Summary: (00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake! where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

Wrong number AU. Iconic. This fic is hella long but so fucking adorable and funny please read this omg. It’s such a happy fic, I literally just smiled while reading. 

Dirty Laundry by Anonymous 

Summary: "Two whole months of free laundry in exchange for two weeks of being my fake boyfriend. Deal?” Keith hesitated for a moment. Was this really worth it? Hardly. Lance was an asshole, and he wasn’t sure what fake dating would entail. But, free laundry was free laundry, right? “Alright, it’s a deal.”Or: Lance makes the mistake of telling his Mom he has a boyfriend coming home with him for Christmas. Keith makes the mistake of agreeing to be Lance's 'fake boyfriend'.

What klance rec list doesn’t have this fic? It lives up to the hype though, man does it ever. Anyone who read my last fic rec list knows I am absolute trash for fake dating fics and this has literally everything you could want. Just read it. 

Not That Bad by varelsen 

Summary: “Am I really going to have to explain this to you?” “No, I’m totally fine with you shutting up right about now.” Hunk cups his hands around his mouth. “You. Are crushing. On Keith.”Or, a college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.

Welcome my friends to story about two idiots who are clearly in love but refuse to admit it. A very cute college/uni AU. I read this one really late at night and I’m pretty sure I squealed like a little girl because it was damn cute. 

you never stood a chance by kagshina

Summary: lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

The summary says it all. Keith is beautiful. Really though, this fic is hella cute, it gives you that warm and fuzzy feeling. 

CANON

A Shove Towards Love by General_Button

Summary: A simple rescue mission turns into chaos when the species on the planet Novaria take an interest in the lives of two of its paladins.

This was my first Klance fic ever and I haven’t read it in forever but remember it being fucking great. 

Nightmares by Trashness

Summary: Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

Basically just Keith and Lance cuddling for almost 15K but also deals with issues like homesickness and it’s just really really goddamn cute. 

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku

Summary: An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week. Keith does not understand babies.

Baby Lance is so fuckin cute and Keith having to take care of him bc baby Lance loves him just makes me feel all happy and giddy. I don’t know what else to call this fic other than adorable. 

Objects in Motion (When Unbalanced) by Mytay

Summary: Lance and Keith are constantly being mistaken for a couple. Lance is highly offended. Keith is quietly outraged.Pidge decides if she can’t have peace, then she can write an epic scientific dissertation on the romantic failings of two exceptionally dense paladins.

LOLOLOL Lance in this one ISTGGGGGG. Sometimes you just wanna shake him and yell because how tf can he not know he loves Keith smh honestly. 

In My Mind by Sarolonde 

Summary: How not to confess to the boy you like: Lance’s unnecessary bitterness edition.Keith can hear your thoughts, Lance reminds himself. Stop thinking! Stop thinking about how freaking attractive that jerk is! He’s not! He has a stupid mullet, that’s probably really soft and silky and I really want to run my fingers through it. And he’s always pouting but his rare smiles light up his face and make his blue eyes shine like—Holy quiznak, what is wrong with me?!

This one is short and hilarious. Lance’s inner monologue kills me as he tries (and fails spectacularly) to stop thinking about his huge ass crush while Keith can hear his thoughts. 

Well y’all this is the end. Like I said at the top, I have so many more Klance fics to share so if you guys want another list shoot me a comment, ask or message! As always, feel free to talk to me about any of the recs or rec me some new fics to read! 

[ravenvsfox]

Hello hi! I have a prompt if you're feeling up to it? There is so much of Andrew looking after sick!Neil but can we have it reversed? I think Andrew would low-key (highkey) love the focused attention from Neil (also,,, Neil not being sure how to look after sick people and turning to advice from the other foxes as discreetly as possible bc there's no way Andrew wants them knowing he's anything less than impenetrable)

(I did my best w this prompt from one POV, sorry it took so very absurdly long! lots of Andrew thoughts with a side of useless boy dialogue)

He wakes up bleary and dry-mouthed, his tongue catching on his hard palate like papers rustling together. Andrew squints into his pillow, pressing two fingers into the eyelid of one streaming eye. The sun is too dilute to touch him, and the breeze from the cracked window chills him so much that it hurts, muscles locked and shivering.

He knew he was getting sick when the hurt that lives inside him flared real, visible and disgusting. All this hacking, running, sweating makes him vulnerable, loud when he wants to be quiet. Neil had called him overdramatic. He’d dragged the covers to his side of the bed in reply, battered sleep’s door until it splintered.

Now he feels like he always felt in the heart-racing countdown to withdrawal, fighting through sweat and aches and cracking lips, cracking skin, cracking strength. Whiskey won’t help him here though. Nothing will help him here, after rowing through the confused, freezing night and only now washing up in foggy morning, fever lapping at him.

Something drips onto his hot forehead and his chest pumps hard, startled. His eyes flash open.

Neil is frowning, looming over him and holding a cold rag that’s a bit too wet. It’s clumsy, but it feels better when Neil arranges it on his sweaty brow. His hand stays on the compress, a sustaining pressure, like he’s healing with just his hands and his willpower. Water runs into his hair like tears.

“How are you?” Neil asks. His other hand walks from the bedspread to Andrew’s side, he can feel the fingertips becoming a full-palmed press. It’s the comfort of a person who always feels better when he’s touched hard and deliberately, alive in a way he can feel.

Andrew doesn’t reply, but he knows that his closed eyes and relaxed body mean something to Neil. He trusts him with his hot forehead and his bedside.

“You look bad,” Neil continues.

“I am not playing,” Andrew says hoarsely. “If that’s what you’re angling for so tactfully.”

Neil’s hands retreat, Andrew’s forehead folds under the rag where no one will see. “I’m here because you’re my— I’m not worried about our goalie, I’m worried about you.”

“You’re here because this is your room,” Andrew corrects.

“Fine,” Neil says, voice full of the opposite. “I’m going to practice, anyway, since that’s all I care about.”

Andrew feels him leave their bed, and he finds that the wet smell of his hair was keeping his headache at bay. Another drop of water rolls down his temple, and he scrubs the compress from his face so he can watch Neil leave, but he’s already gone.

It haunts his heart, for a while, the snapped olive branch, the hurt that put its fist in its mouth and left the room so Andrew wouldn’t see it properly.

He knows, deep in him, that he’s not being any different than usual, but he also knows what Neil might have expected, seeing him spread out in their bed with his eyes wet. He’s trying to fix Andrew’s surface like he never tries to fix what’s underneath.

Neil doesn’t have the vocabulary for sickness that isn’t terminal, though. He can’t fathom something between a bandaid and a prosthetic.

He drifts, for hours, so thirsty that he can feel it in his skin, so stuffed from throat to nose that he can only breathe dry and heavy through his mouth. He can hear the wheeze inside of him.

In foster care, they would make him sleep in the garage when he got sick. They didn’t want him to infect a house full of already difficult children. He remembers watching the shadows of feet moving in the light under the door, the way the cold only made him sicker and angrier, a yoga mat between his body and the concrete.

He blinks and his eyes are crusted together. He can taste salt. He thinks of Neil and the pain in his chest changes. He latches onto the feeling, like the garage door opening in the morning, letting him back into the warmth.

There’s water on the bedside table the next time his eyes open all the way, and he rolls, panting with the movement, putting his hand around the base of the glass, his muscles loose, feeling barely taped together.

He feels a hand on his spine, and then the glass is plucked from his grip. He slits his eyes against bright bright sunlit auburn, and gulps when Neil tips the glass against his chapped lips.

“This is bad,” Neil says urgently. “You’re too hot, I think we have to break the fever.”

“You will be sick,” Andrew warns, delirious. “You’re so close.”

“I’m close,” Neil confirms warmly. “And I got Dan to cancel practice tonight.”

“What?” Andrew says, uncomprehending.

“Exy. Not happening.”

“Are you also sick?”

Neil laughs quietly, and Andrew’s eased back onto the pillows, glass drained.

“Do you want me to be here?” Neil asks quietly. The back of his hand keeps brushing against the flushed skin of Andrew’s cheeks.

“I want you,” Andrew starts, swallowing and coughing around the caught, sharp feeling in his throat. “I want you to cancel more practice. All of it.”

“Funny,” Neil says flatly. “Anything else?”

Andrew screws his eyes closed and says nothing. He wants him to stay close. He feels so much like a cure, he’s burned so many things out of Andrew before.

“I don’t know how to help you,” Neil says honestly, rough with frustration. “Just tell me what’s hurting you.”

It’s a childish response to pain, wanting to see the physical source of it so it can be staunched and fought and squared away. His energy is frenetic, actively pursuing, waking Andrew up. The heat of Neil is different from the heat of his fever—jungle rain instead of drought.

Neil gets up to leave again, and Andrew catches him by the wrist. It’s the fastest he’s moved all day. “Stay.”

Neil stops moving immediately, save for the way his hand curls until they’re palm to palm.

“Yeah,” Neil says, and gets up into bed, drawing Andrew’s hand with him. He ends up half arched towards Neil, hand sweaty, t-shirt twisted around his chest. It’s uncomfortable. It’s better.

Sleep tries to put a bag over his head and lead him out of the room, but Neil’s presence is neutralizing, especially when he starts to talk.

“Practice was terrible, you didn’t miss much.”

“I didn’t expect to,” Andrew says stuffily. Neil pinches his pinky between two of his fingers.

“Your alternate sucks. He shouldn’t be allowed in goal if he’s going to desecrate it like that.”

He’s talking about the scrawny freshman goalkeeper with the attitude of a fourth year and the skill of a high schooler. Something about him fires Neil up in a way that Andrew finds off-colour amusing, on a good day.

“He didn’t save a single goal. It wasn’t even practice, it was public humiliation. Renee would’ve obliterated him, and her skill set is limited, next to you. But christ, Nicky could’ve done better. I was considering locking him in the change rooms but you know how fucking loud he is, and last time Wymack…”

Andrew’s mind wanders, alternately focusing on the slip of Neil’s fingers between his, the whir of the overhead fan, the way the tag on the duvet is irritating the bare skin of his stomach. His insides are an uneasy sea, and his face is raw from rubbing his running eyes and nose. Neil’s voice is so soft, even when he’s saying things that should leave scratches.

Andrew thinks, confused, that he’s never been taken care of before, except by an apologetic Nicky on his way to a shift at Eden’s Twilight, a bottle of stolen tylenol left at the foot of his bed. Cass— no. He’d been afraid to be the sort of foster kid who needed things, and so his weakness was folded up and swallowed. He pretended not to hurt for as long as he was with the Spears.

His withdrawal and rehabilitation had been his own problems, bloody things dragged through the foxes’ house. Everyone’s noses wrinkled, involuntary, at the ugly sight of his healing.

But Neil shared his coping mechanisms and grinned at his anger and provoked him into something, urged him into something—

Sometimes he feels like the monster, the shapeshifter, being coaxed back to humanity by the love interest, the waning moon. Neil makes him feel like his fangs are receding. Neil is a speech and a silver bullet.

For so many of the worst years of his life, everyone else waited for him to fall off the precarious side of a building, told him that it would get better, told him there was a safety net five stories down, even though he couldn’t see it. Neil launched the front of his body over the side, teeth gritted, muscles straining, and started hoisting him up by the hand.

His throat clogs with tiredness, itchy and thick. Neil’s free hand passes over his damp hair, his body heat bumping closer like a mouth ducking to kiss him, and Andrew is dropped, overwhelmed, into sleep.

______

“No, I don’t know. It’s not about him. No, Dan. Put Matt on the phone? Don’t tell him—no, I’m serious.”

Andrew’s face breaks watery sleep, but his ears are still foggy underneath the surface. Neil’s voice is low and distant, probably in the seat by their window.

“Hey,” Neil says quickly. “Do you still have the recipe for that soup you were making Dan last— no he’s fine. I just wanted to…” He makes a clucking noise, upset, and Andrew rolls over to watch him. He finds him staring distractedly out at the parking lot with his feet tucked underneath him, unlit cigarette between his fingers.

There’s a burble of a voice on the other end of the line, and Neil puts his head back. Andrew watches the whole long arc of his neck and feels a violent pull of affection in his gut, wishes he could do something about it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, Andrew frowns at the shift in Neil’s tone. “It’s scaring me. I know it’s not— he’s not that sick, or hurt, and no one’s responsible, so it’s…” he looks towards Andrew, whose eyes are still slitted against the lamplight.

“Exactly,” he breathes, looking back out at the cloud-frothed sky. “I can’t fight a virus for him. And I don’t know how, I don’t know what people do, like, am I supposed to be doing what he wants or what he needs because they’re not— I can’t solve this with cigarettes on the roof, and I can’t pour alcohol on it, but I want his eyes clear again. I don’t. I hate it when I touch him and he doesn’t react. I can’t… he’s too sick to see straight.” He’s getting upset. Andrew can hear his own heartbeat reacting, surging ahead.

“I know,” Neil says, frustrated. “But I don’t want to do nothing. I just--do you have that recipe or not?”

A moment, a hum, a scribble.

“Okay, thanks Matt. I’m not telling him that. Okay. Okay. Bye.”

He flips his phone shut and drops it on the carpet, putting both palms to his eyes and holding them there, cigarette still dangling. Andrew’s eyes close, but he hears it when Neil sighs and stands, moving carefully to the door. He can sense him pausing at the foot of the bed and watching Andrew for a moment, and then he says, “you’re awake.”

“Yes,” Andrew replies, not opening his eyes. “You were having a heart-to-heart two feet from my sickbed.” He can tell that Neil’s gnawing his lip. He can almost hear the skin tearing.

“Did it bother you?”

“You are constantly bothering me.”

“I mean—“

“I know what you mean. I do not care what you do or do not tell Boyd.”

“I think,” Neil starts, “that he was too surprised that you have a human response to viral infection to use it against you.” He sounds torn between annoyance and amusement, and Andrew cracks an eye at him.

“I don’t need soup,” he informs him, and Neil sags, walking heavily over to the bed and dropping down in front of it. It’s so dramatic that Andrew might have left the room, if he were mobile.

“What do you need?”

They look at each other, and the only sound in the room is from the galloping fan and their breathing.

“Get in bed,” Andrew says finally, trying halfheartedly to make it seem like it’s not an answer to his question.

Neil’s eyes go cotton-soft, grateful. He puts his face down on the blankets in front of him, and Andrew stares at the slip of a cowlick on the top of his head.

“Painkillers first,” he murmurs. “Aaron got you NyQuil, and there’s Vicks in the bathroom cupboard.”

Andrew lets him talk, and knows that he’s been searching for ways to fix this, asking their teammates and the internet. There’s a bow in Andrew’s chest, and Neil always seems to have a grip on both slippery loose ends. The knot of it keeps giving and giving and giving.

Neil stands again, hesitating. “Thanks for trusting me with this,” he says softly. He closes the door behind him, and it clicks into place like it’s embarrassed.

Andrew blinks. Gluey sickness peels back just enough for him to recognize that he’s enjoying himself somewhere through his gummy symptoms. Neil treats a nasty flu with the same attentive concern that he affords gunshot wounds, that he never seems to give his own pain.

He’s never taken care of someone, and Andrew’s never been taken care of, but it works, somehow, it makes sense. That garage door swings inward and the warmth wriggles back into Andrew’s fingers.

Neil comes back in with a tray full of over-the-counter medications spread out like a dessert sampler, and Andrew coughs, hard, over the unfamiliar twitch of laughter in his throat.

Neil sleeps through the time that practice usually falls, and Andrew holds him to his chest, too hot to sleep. Neil bought him strawberry lozenges designed for kids, and Andrew’s halfway through the pack, mouth buzzing. The sun melts, a slab of ice cream on the hot horizon.

“Hey, knock knock,” Nicky says suddenly from the doorway, and Andrew’s keenly aware of how debauched their room looks, the wrappers and kleenex and clothes and heat, Neil crushed to Andrew’s body. “I just wanted to see if you were okay, and I knew neither of you were offering any updates, so hey, I’m here. Are you okay?”

Andrew means to say ‘leave’ but what actually comes out is “yes”. The painkillers must be there, behind his teeth, loosening his tongue. Nicky beams. Neil hitches his leg higher over his hip. Andrew pinches his eyes shut.

When he opens them again, Nicky is gone, and so is the sun. But Neil’s there, shivering without a blanket, mouth wet at Andrew’s clavicle. He sighs into his hair, and the breath comes easy. His chest is clear.

[whyldkratts]

for the ask meme: all of them, but if thats too much maybe just the last 10?

Sorry for the long post aaaa1: Let’s start with a tricky one; what is the real reason you are confused right now? [I bought lottery tickets bc I was in texas and they’re not legal where I live and the cashier at the gas station didn’t even ask for my id. I tried to show him and he just shook his head and let me go???? He didnt even care wtf]2: Do you ever get “good morning” texts from anyone? [Nah]3: If your significant other smoked pot, would you care? [Yea a little bit. I mean if it was just occasionally that’s probably fine? But a lot of my family has fucked up their entire lives with drugs so anything like that is iffy for me. It depends on how often they smoke ultimately]4: Do you find it easy to trust others? [I’d say yeah, probably. As long as you don’t fuck me over or guilt me within the first few weeks of knowing me id probably feel comfortable messaging you if I needed someone to talk to]5: What were you doing at 11PM last night? [Scrolling Tumblr]6: You’re drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you? [Probably my irl bffs lindy and raven!]7: What would you do if you found out you had been cheated on? [Dump them. Adios fucker. I hope they’re happy with whoever they cheated on me with]8: Are you close with your dad? [Yeah I’d say so? I love him and he usually let’s me do my thing]9: I bet you kissed someone last night, right? [Nah]10: What are you listening to? [Run by hozier]11: You can only drink ONE liquid for the rest of your life - what is it? [Sweet tea!!!! I’m from the south baby]12: Do you like hickeys? [Never has one so I don’t know!]13: What time do you go to bed? [Uhhhhhh 5am?]14: Is there someone who continuously lets you down? [My siblings.]15: Can you text as quickly with one hand as you do both? [Nope I fuck up spelling a lot and have to go back and fix it no matter how many hands I’m typing with]16: Do you always answer your texts? [I try!! Unless I’m emotionally tired or forget]17: Do you hate the person you fell the hardest for? [No. She’s my best friend now, actually]18: When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends? [LIKE 3 MINUTES AGO I was complaining about how long it car ride home is]19: Is there someone that makes you happy every time you see them? [My irlbest friends, the cars discord chat I’m in, and a lot of my wk friends]20: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? [I was writing ducktales fanfiction in my head]21: Is anyone else in the room with you? [I’m in a car with my mom for the next uhhh 7 hours?]22: Do you believe what goes around comes around? [Karmas a bitch]23: Were you happier four months ago than you are now? [I was visiting family in Indiana, so yea probably? Tho I am pretty happy now too]24: Is there someone you wish you could fix things with? [Sometimes, with my old pal cat. She did some bad things so I stopped talking to her, but sometimes I want to catch up and see how she’s doing.]25: In the past week, have you cried? [YEAH over a darkwing duck episode]26: What colour is the shirt you are wearing? [Grey. It has Mickey mouse on it!]27: Do people ever call you by your last name? [Noooope]28: Is anyone ignoring you right now? [I wouldn’t know]29: Do you have a best friend? [YEAH everyone in the cars discord and raven and lindy]30: Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the last person you kissed? [No it was my great grandma lol]31: Who was your last call/text message from? [Call: red cross asking for my blood. Text: raven saying “dang”]32: Are you mad at anyone? [Not really? I don’t get angry very easily at all]33: Have you ever kissed someone older than you? [When I was a freshman I was dating a junior]34: How old will the last person you kissed be on his/her next birthday? [My great grandma! 88 I think]35: How many more days until your birthday? [LIKE a whole entire year. August 2nd]36: Do you have any summer plans yet? [Help my friend after her spine surgery p much. Visit family around the 4th of july]37: Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex? [I have tons of girl friends!! All my best friends are girls (except em but they’re a good friend still!!!)]38: Are you keeping anything from your best friend(s) now? [Lindy doesn’t know I’m trans]39: Do you have a secret that you’ve never told anyone? [Uhhhhhhhhhhh next question]40: Have you ever regretted kissing someone? [I try not to regret things like that]41: Do you think age matters in relationships? [UH YEAH?? An adult dating a minor ain’t my deallll]42: Are you available? [Lmfao yeah but don’t hold your breath I’m awful at relationships]43: How many people have you had real, strong feelings for since high school ended? [My ex and bff dksdkdiajsai kill Me. I’ve had small crushes but I don’t rly let them grow too much if I realize they’re poppin up]44: If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get? [Septum]45: Do you believe exes can be friends? [Yeah!!!!! I just reconnected with my ex from freshmen year and he’s cool]46: Do you regret anything? [Times where my mouth moved before my head could think and I hurt someone I cared about. Times where I didn’t listen. Times where I hesitated. But the past is a different country, and I try not to waste the present lamenting what I could’ve done.]47: Honestly, what’s on your mind right now? [Home. And the mistakes I’ve made.]48: Did you ever lose a best friend? [Yeah. She moved away and we just… talked less, and less, and less.]49: Was your last kiss a mistake? [Nah it was my great grandma]50: Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like? [They have a bf and also dont like me plus im unlovable and bad at relationships and feelings *shrug emoji* the other person I’m interested in lives too far away and also doesn’t like me like that]51: Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? [Twas my gg and probably when I was a baby]52: Do you still talk with the person you LAST kissed? [All these last kiss ones are so angsty and sad and it was literally my grandma 5 hours ago I’m laughing]53: What was the last thing you ate? [McDonald’s French fries!!!!!]54: Did you get any compliments today? [Nah I’m in my road trip attire so I look like a mess]55: Where are you going on your next vacation? [New Orleans in October for voodoo fest!! Gonna see the foo fighters B)]56: Do you own anything from other countries?[I think I have Canadian money somewhere…]57: Are most of your friend guys or girls?[girls!!]58: Where have you lived most of your life?[Sweet Home Alabama]59: When was the last time you took a long drive?[DOING IT RN!!!!! 13 HOURS]60: Have you ever played Spin the Bottle?[yea but it was like, mashed up with truth or dare. Instead of kissing we asked them truth or dare]61: Have you ever TPd someone’s house?[nah I’m pretty mild]62: Who do you text the most?[raven probably? Or max]63: What was the last movie you saw?[spirited away I think??? First time I ever saw it]64: What’s preventing your current boyfriend/girlfriend from going back to their ex?[I’m single, don’t remind me :P]65: How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have in 2011?[I was 12 and right smack dab in the middle of my ugly awkward phase (thays still going on today!) So I had none lmao]66: Is the last person you kissed younger than you?[nah]67: Do you curse around your parents?[GOOD LORD NO]68: Are you happy with where you live?[I? Hate Alabama. My city is okay but I want to move somewhere nicer]69: Picture of yourself? [I have a selfie tag. I would upload but I’m lazy. Maybe if I find a pic I like later I will]70: Are you a monogamous person or do you believe in open-ended relationships?[polyamory All the wayy!!!!! But monogamy is cool too]71: Have you ever been dumped?[probably in elementary school but I don’t remember? I usually am the one to end it bc I get freaked out and skittish around people genuinely caring about me so I break it up before they’re disappointed]72: What do you most like about making out?[being comfortable and close enough with someone to do it.]73: Have you ever casually made out with someone who you weren’t seriously involved with?[yup!]74: When you kiss someone for the first time, is it usually you who initiates it or the other?[depends? I’ve asked to kiss someone and I’ve been asked equal amounts.]75: What part of a person’s body do you find most attractive?[eyes? Idk there’s a lot that goes into finding someone attractive it’s hard to narrow it down]76: Who was the last person you talked to last night before you went to bed?[my mom]77: Had sex with someone you knew less than an hour?[virgin]78: Had sex with someone you didn’t know their name?[virgin]79: What makes your heart flutter and brings a big cheesy smile to your face?[Any cartoon character I’m currently hyperfixated on]80: Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already?[yes. But i would go slow and I wouldn’t want to meet their child until we were both sure this was something we wanted long term.]81: Has someone who had a crush on you ever confessed to you?[no its usually me? Wait i take that back!! One girl did while I was in hs but I’m pretty sure she only did it bc she just figured out her sexuality and I was queer and there.]82: Do you tell a lot of people when you have a crush?[nope I bottle that shit up!!!! But if it’s a long standing crush I’ll tell a few people eventually]83: Do you miss your last sweetie?[No.]84: Last time you slow danced with someone?[my friend Franklin at prom. We pretended to be spies on a mission forced to act casual as we scoped out potential enemies]85: Have you ever ‘dated’ someone you’ve never met?[??? Don’t like the skeptical quote marks. I’ve been in long distance relationships before, yes.]86: How can I win your heart?[just like…… be nice to me, ever, and I’m into it. Talk about things you like, ask me about things I like, try and get into/understand my interests and I’ll do the same?? Don’t make fun of me and don’t belittle my interests. The bar is low]87: What is your astrological sign?[leo]88: What were you doing last night at 12 AM?[sleeping]89: Do you cook?[pasta!!!!!!!]90: Have you ever gotten back in touch with an old flame after a time of more than 3 months of no communication?[yeah!!! 3 years of no talking and I reconnected with max recently]91: If you’re single right now, do you wish you were in a relationship?[uh it’s complicated. Yes but idk if I’m in a good place for a relationship. I haven’t even begun to transition at all.]92: Do you prefer to date various people or do you pretty much fall into monogamous relationships quickly?[you say that like I could get multiple people to date me]93: What physical traits do you look for in a potential interest?[nice dress style?? Glasses are good too. Idk questions like this are hard augh]94: Name four things that you wish you had![money, a job, plush darkwing duck toy, a car]95: Are you a player?[no]96: Have you ever kissed 2 people in one day?[nooooope]97: Are you a tease?[hahahahaha no]98: Ever meet anyone you met on Tumblr?[nope!!! Not yet]99: Have you ever been deeply in love with someone?[maybe. But I don’t think you can love someone too deeply who doesn’t love you back]100: Anybody on Tumblr that you’d go on a date with?[sure, plenty]101: Hugs or Kisses?[both??? Both is good]102: Are you too shy to ask someone out?[It’s Not shyness, it’s rejection I have a problem with]103: The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?[girls are pretty]104: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you babe?[Yeah I guess]105: If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was in relationship, would you go for it?[If it was an open relationship and everyone knew the situation, then yea prob?? If not, then no.]106: Do you flirt a lot?[not really]107: Your last kiss?[my grandmaaaaa]108: Have you kissed more than 5 people since the start of 2012?[not in a romantic way]109: Have you kissed anyone in the past month?[not in a romantic way]110: If you could kiss anyone who would it be?[next question]111: Do you know who you’ll kiss next?[nope!! It’s a hopefully nice surprise for future me]112: Does someone like you currently?[probably not lol but ive got no idea!!]113: Do you currently have feelings for anyone?[sure]114: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?[I want to fall in love.]115: Ever made out with just a friend?[yeah]116: Are you happier single or in a relationship?[in a relationship I think?]117: Your own question that you want me to answer. Just write it.[just send me an ask and ill answer it]

This got a bit of self hatred dashed in there whoops sorry!!!

[youngerdrgrey]

okay but shouldn’t we be the epicenter? // a Dear White People fic, part 1

full title: *lionel voice* okay but shouldn’t /we/ be the epicenter of black life on this campus?

chapter title: shouldn’t we be (idk) calling out our friends?

or, a further exploration into these black lives on Winchester’s campus, making my way through the season for further depth and hilarity

/

about: what happens when Defamation ends and Jo pauses in her screaming with her heart still racing to go and get her boy. Or, the time Jo calls out Reggie for letting his jealousy get the best of him on a sacred night.

references include Scandal, Orange is the New Black and the completely unnecessary fucked up death that I will never forgive them for, the 100 and the death that I don’t have an opinion on bc I never watched that show, and casual use of both dicktamized and heedlessly in the same sentence #codeswitching

+ this chapter takes place at the end of episode one; read on ao3?

/

/

Honestly, even the Defamation live tweets coming from AP got interrupted today so people could throw in their two cents about Sam, Reggie, and the white boy coming between them and the movement. And it’s not like Joelle would normally care that much about the gossip. Everyone on campus knows that race relations at Winchester are like the pre-teen child Sam and Reggie adopted just when a group home or juvie were closing in on ‘em. But there’s a difference between the normal talk about Jo’s friends and the talk tonight. Normally it’s just a few direct tweets, but tonight, half her timeline’s subtweets about just whip it out already #nottalkingDefamation or  #loveitwhen bae meets activist!bae for the first time or just a simple *Crazy Eyes voice* swiiirl swirl swiiiirl swirl. So fine, Jo can’t even scroll through her timeline without having to address this, so she needs to address it in person. Even if all she can do is snap at Reggie about growing the fuck up.

She gets out her chair to stalk over to him at his. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”

Reggie peers up at her, still too deep into his feigned nonchalance to lift his legs back off the arm rest. As if she doesn’t deserve the full extent of his energy, or a head to head showdown. Honestly, his mind’s probably still on whatever ‘girl you better watch’ text he just sent Sam about the end of the episode. He flips his phone onto his stomach without even killing the screen.

“Wait for what?”

To whip his fucking dick out and wave it in Gabe’s face. Seriously, what’s with that impulse in guys? Jo’s not out here in booty shorts and bandeaus to prove she’s got more going on than Sam does. (Not that she does. Not that it’s a competition. She’s not competing with her best friend; she’s merely pointing out that she doesn’t have the same need to constantly battle anyone that her crush is into.)

(( Not that it’s much of a competition anyway. Guys always go for girls like Sam, don’t they? Girls who don’t really have to try to summon all the light in the room and can go on without necessarily having to know what it’s like to be black in ‘post-racial’ America. ))

((( Sam knows what it’s like. She knows what her experience is like, anyway, and Jo’s really not trying to get too deep into the whole color-ism of it all. European beauty standards are bullshit and forced on everyone. Jo’s got a banging body that works for a lot of guys who might not want to fully claim her, but she’s not all too interested in guys who unironically use ‘females’ to describe women and call her Queen before they ever even think to ask her name. )))

(((( Wait, what was the point again? ))))

Reggie cocks his head to the side. Assured and righteous as he normally is. But he’s the one in the wrong right now. The one pouncing instead of giving Gabe two seconds to try being in their lives.

“Come on, Reg. He—“ and Reggie groans and rolls his eyes immediately, so Jo just talks louder “—he was here for all of two minutes before you jumped down his throat to make sure everyone in the room could see how down he was.”

Reggie nearly snorts, singing lightly, “‘He ain’t really down.” But it’s Reggie playing those games you do, not Gabe. Reggie throwing his name in the Goblet of Fire for no fucking purpose but to run into the maze and get spat back out for doing it. “Come on. Not even a chuckle? You love old house music.”

She also loves getting to enjoy her hate-watch without being constantly reminded of their stupid relationship drama. “Be serious. I’m not happy either, but you don’t see me picking fights during Defamation.”

He shrugs. “You would if you weren’t so busy snapping at everything Olive does."

“Not everything.” Olive could literally control the whole world if she wanted to, but she keeps on going back to that trash ass president she put in the oval. Plus, the shit they do in there? Five seasons in, there’s probably permanent grooves on the rug that her knees put there. Which, whatever, but it’s been years, and Olive won’t leave someone who’s no good for her. “She needs to wise up, and so do you. Jumping all around the point.”

Reggie sits up so straight his shoulders level out. The steel in his eyes snags the light from the TV while his jaw locks up for a beat. “What’s your point then, Jo?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know.

Everybody on this campus knows how Reggie feels about Sam. Including Sam, on some level; she’s just somehow deluded herself into thinking that Reggie only wants her mind, or her activism, or a partner in the movement. But Reggie’s been into every piece of Sam since she still had a relaxer and shared a room with Coco Conners. He’s been trailing after her since the first time she spoke up in class freshman year, and if Jo has to hear about how Sam was like a blacktivist Hermione Granger one more time, she will Obliviate herself, him, and anyone else who’s had to listen to it. But none of that knowledge changes anything. None of that brings what’s been subtext to the forefront quite like this does.

“Sam brought him here on Defamation night. She’s serious about this.” Serious enough that she didn’t tell either of them. And Jo’s not quite sure if Sam’s ashamed of his whiteness or their unapologetic blackness or maybe just that she got dicktamized into a relationship with the very sort of guy she normally mocks heedlessly, but here they all are. “I mean, we’ve supported her through worse.”

“Like what?”

Like the time she single-handedly tried responding to every single person who justified Poussey’s death in Orange is the New Black, dedicating a whole episode of DWP to debunking its use in the narrative. (It’s still a great episode, complete with gems like, “Dear white people, if you fix your mouth one more time to tell me why Poussey’s death was okay but you’re still crying over Lexa from The 100, I honestly don’t have the time to deal with you.” Top ratings, top notch, though it led to some serious rifts within the LGBTQ community on campus.)

Or the time she dated Troy. She planned yacht trips over rallies and acted like Jo and Reggie were both in the wrong for wondering if everything with them was just some dalliance in danger, like a pre-approved trek through the blackness of Sam’s identity before settling in to a non-confrontational future. But even then, Troy was the heir to respectability at Winchester, the crowned prince of how to be the right kind of negro who everyone can rally behind when something goes south and they wind up dead. He couldn’t so much as choose a cereal without his dad’s approval, so Sam and him were never gonna last. Not at this part of her life anyway.

“Just — Sam’s no Olive, Reg.” She won’t be with Picture Frame Gabe more than a few months, not when his true politics start coming out. He might be ready on paper to be part of this, but nobody understands the work until they’re in it. “She won’t choose some white boy over everything else she cares about.” Sam loves them.

Reggie leans up so his chest meets his knees at the armrest. It puts him at her level for the first time this conversation. He asks her, “You sure about that?"

Sam helped Jo take out her braids the night her Hulu trial ended and all they had were YouTube videos for filler. Sam missed her own midterm for psych last semester to help Reggie study for his midterm in poli sci. (Never mind the fact that Sam’s psych class dropped the lowest midterm score; the girl needed the points with the number of events that she kept scheduling during that class.) Sam’s their girl, for more than the movement and for nothing less than life. And if Jo has to fight against the need to widen her eyes and has to run these memories through her mind to convince herself that all of that still matters, then she’s not going to tell him.

“How can you not be?” she asks. Sam’s not going anywhere, even if Jo has to hold her down herself. Friends don’t let friends fuck the president. (And friends, real friends, tell you if they are, don’t they? Real friends let you in on the stuff they’re ashamed about, or wondering about, because if they don’t talk about it, then it’s not real, and if you’re not the one they go to, then maybe your whole friendship was just one of convenience. Maybe it’s high school all over again and the fact that your friends now are cool black kids instead of cool white ones doesn’t actually make a difference. Maybe you’re nothing more than the Coco of junior year.) “I’ll talk to her. Can you just hold off on vilifying her boy until then?”

Reggie plucks at a thread on the seam of his pants. “‘Her boy.’” He yanks the thread a little too hard, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Just leaves him with his fist clenched in the air over nothing. “He said, ‘it’s not worth it,’ then left.” Back in that fight? Seriously? Reggie glances up at Jo again. “He mean her when he say that?”

Because that’s what actually eats at Reggie, isn’t it? That someone on this planet could see his almighty love Samantha White and think she’s anything less than pure perfection.

“Of course not.” Everyone loves Sam; it’s them that everyone else seems unsure about. Because Reggie’s smart and brilliant, but he’s millitant in a way that can chafe at people who want to just enjoy themselves. And most people don’t know that he’ll talk shit for two seconds about the lives they’re ignoring by binge-watching The Get Down all day but that he’ll give himself over to it just a few minutes later. Or that he hasn’t missed a single night of Defamation since the first time Jo dragged him along after Open Mic let out two seasons ago. “Gabe just meant fighting you wasn’t worth sticking around tonight.” She swats a hand at his knee, batting at him as playfully as she can get. As casually as she can make this right now. “Good thing too. You too damn stubborn to ever stop.”

Reggie grins, but his eyes still have this shade over them. His brow crinkles while his nose scrunches up. He’s probably wondering, is it worth it to keep fighting? Think Sam will ever notice? Think Sam will ever fight for me too? At this point, it’d take an act of either God or the devil to get a reaction out of Sam, and after this blackface party, it sure seems like the devil’s more likely.

Jo swallows that comment down, scans the room to get away from soft eyes that never seem soft just for her. “Now get up. Walk me back to my room.”

He groans, but he pushes up off the chair. Throws his arm around her and tugs her into his side. Her eyes flutter closed, and she gets a whole three seconds of imagining that this could be about them. This could be them. Soft smiles and warm arms wrapped around each other. “You think she’ll ever leave him?” Then he opens his mouth and says that. His voice still comes out a little too heavy. He clears it while she blinks away the three second fantasy. “I mean, the oval’s got to have dents from her knees in the carpet at this point.”

“Oh!” She cackles — quick and bright and like the Defamation flashes are going off inside of her. Olive. Does she think Olive will ever leave the president? Not Sam. They’re finally done talking about Sam. And, okay, seriously, “That’s exactly what I said. Like power to her, get some, but does it have to be with Mr. President?”

“No eyebrows having,” Reggie starts.

“Disrespectful ass,” she continues.

“‘I know what you taste like’ Gerald Grant III.” They shudder together, and if she nestles in closer to his chest on the rest of the walk, they don’t talk about it. Maybe that’s how their little trio works — talk about everything but the big three: how Jo feels about Reggie, how Reggie feels about Sam, and how Sam might not be theirs forever.

Or maybe that’s just post-Defamation overdramatic thinking.

Yeah. (Maybe.) 

.

.

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