#Wave Blue World Scholarship

[eastsidemags]

Artist Spotlight: Ava Schrager

We here at East Side Mags have always wanted to see BIG NAMES come through our doors and we’ve had a BUNCH of those - some you’ve NEVER seen anywhere else except conventions. Names like Greg Hildebrandt, actor Patrick Wilson, Vita Ayala, Amy Reeder, Scott Koblish, Tee Franklin and many more to name. But our heart is always in the up-and-coming; the ones who we’re SURE will aspire to be those big names one day. We love the underground. The place where big names are still growing and thriving and learning to one day shatter records and draw the gaze of the wider public!

One such up-and-comer is coming here on October 14 from 2pm-6pm and we’re SUPER EXCITED to introduce you to her!

Meet commercial artist, 2D animator, colorist/illustrator, and multi-talented artist Ava Schrager! Originally from Cincinnati Ohio, Ava is a 20 year old 2nd year Joe Kubert School student as well as the winner of the Wave Blue World Scholarship! Her art has no limitations, she draws anything from realism to anime.

Ava’s art is spectacular and that’s an understatement! This woman is crazy talented and your chance to meet her one on one and grab an awesome sketch is here!

Join us!

[cleoluvrr]

black magnolias II - rafe cameron x reader

i gave you all my light, and i got nothing to show for it

WARNINGS: mature content; domestic violence, coercion, classism, religious trauma, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, blackmail

masterlist

series masterlist

you’d met rafe before you met anyone else. 

your mom grew up with his father and the two of them were good friends during childhood. she’d told you the stories of their life in the cut, how she looked out for him, and he did the same for her. how she believed in him when nobody else did, taking days off school to work extra shifts just so he could have the money to get everything he needed before he went off to college. 

you were sure that they were much more than friends, but you never questioned her about it too deeply. it was none of you business; both of them were married to other people, anyways. they’d kept in touch over the years and rekindled their friendship when he moved back to kildare.

as you got older, you wondered if he felt guilty for leaving your mom behind. if all the things he did for you and your family was some way to make himself feel better. he paid for your grade school tuition and covered whatever your scholarship didn’t in high school. he got your mom a job working for cameron development–it paid way more than what she made at her old one. you remember going to holiday parties a couple times a year at tannyhill when you were younger; running around with other kids and playing by the water while your mother scolded you not to get too close.

you wondered if your mother fell deeper into religion after his passing, but once again, you never questioned it.

that was when rafe found you. before he became the monster that everyone knows him as, he was just a regular boy. he was sweet and funny. he never looked down his nose at you for being from the cut. corruption and heartbreak had not yet found him, and that was the rafe you knew. the one you loved. the lines of friendship and intimacy had blurred at some point in your time knowing him.

maybe it was his mom leaving that broke him, or his dad taking his grief and anger out on him that changed everything. maybe it was the popularity, the drugs, or understanding the power of money as he grew older. you weren’t sure when things went so wrong.

that was when kiara became your life vest. she was the only one that didn’t judge you for being a pogue. rafe didn’t, but he was turning into something you didn’t like anymore. someone you didn’t recognize.

it was also when you met jj. he was like rafe in a lot of ways; blonde, short-tempered, and impulsive. daddy issues and no mom, lost in the world and using drugs to escape the pain of their reality. another pair of sad, blue eyes that sucked you into their depths. another line blurred.

when you turned to face rafe you nearly gasped, teeth biting down on the soft flesh of your tongue to keep the sound from escaping. his icy blue eyes bore into your wide, nervous ones. the two orbs traveled down the entirety of your body in a way that gave you goosebumps everywhere they landed. 

he looked just as you remembered; tall, handsome, and fear-inducing. your heart was beating against your ribcage violently as you fought to stay still, feet planted firmly into the soft sand beneath you. the man made your skin prickle from being too close but you refused to move.

“oh, rafe, you’re still alive.” you voice barely quivered, unnoticeable to everyone except him. you hated the way he could feel the nerves radiating off of you in waves. it was the one thing he was the best at; reading you. “that’s…gotta be good for somebody, i guess.”

“don’t be like that,” his teeth were the same bright white that they always were, perfect and blinding as they bared down in a sinister smile. while rafe’s tone was light and teasing on the surface, you could clearly sense something beneath it that had you swallowing thickly. “you know you missed me.”

you didn’t dignify that statement with a response.

 looking past him at the brunette girl watching from a distance, you studied her closely. your brow twitched upward reflexively, eyes catching hers as the two of you stared each other down. she didn’t look familiar to you at all, but it was clear that she knew who rafe was if her glaring was any indication. 

she was pretty; her tanned skin glowing under the burning sun and shoulder length waves blowing in the slight breeze. 

the girl looked nothing like you.

“doesn’t seem like you missed me.” you hummed in response.

rafe turned his head, eyes following yours to find the dark-haired girl on the other end of your gaze. 

she tore away from the staredown to meet the steely-blue of the man before you and smiled, her teeth just as perfect as the person she was showing them off to. rafe barely reacted to her display, simply gifting her a slight nod of acknowledgment before turning back to you. 

“nah, she’s just…”he shook his head in denial, tongue escaping his mouth to wet his chapped lips. “we’re just friends. nothing serious.”

you shrugged at him nonchalantly, the sound of your friends clearing their throats behind you serving as a reminder of how uncomfortable they must be with him so close after everything that’s happened. you felt sarah grab your hand, her fingers knitting with yours.

“i don’t care if you’re friends, more than friends–whatever you wanna call it.” your tone was dismissive and slightly cold, a nautical edge to your voice as you bit the words out. “we aren’t together anymore. you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

as much as you wish the words that left your mouth were true; they weren’t.

you missed him. as messed up as it was, you missed rafe in ways that you knew you shouldn’t. ways that would get you shunned by your friends if you were to ever confess to them. the man had done the worst things imaginable to all of the pogues, including you. it made no sense to be jealous of some girl that he may, or may not, be dating now, especially given how the two of you ended things.

yet, you could feel your stomach turning at the thought of it.

of course you hated him for what he did to your friends, to you. he showed you what kind of person he was hiding beneath the surface of what he put on display to you. but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think about him late at night; about what could have been had things not gone south the way they did. you standing in front of him and all your friends, telling him that you don’t care who he talks to anymore, was a lie.

but you still do it. you still do it because, what other choice did you have?

“yeah, right. i’m not,” he nodded in agreement with you about not needing to defend his actions. “jus’ didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“right…” you replied monotonously.

kiara cleared her throat behind you, subtly letting you know that the interaction had been going on for far too long. you don’t stop her and sarah from pulling you away from rafe without any goodbye, the conversation ending as abruptly as it started.

“nice seeing you, y/n.” rafe’s voice was loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the surrounding crowd. he didn’t need to raise his volume, but he did nothing without reason. he knew who was there at the beach and he wanted them to hear, wanted them to know exactly who he was talking to.

the buzzed-blonde was met with silence once again. his gaze was both scorching and chilling, the feeling of his watchful eyes on your back as you retreated to find the rest of your friends. you were sweating, both from your anxiety and the bright sun beating down onto the sand.

cleo was kneeling into the soft ground fiddling with jj’s bike with pope and john b not too far away. you didn’t notice jj had been watching the whole time until your eyes met, his brows furrowed and a look of interrogation behind the pale blue. white knuckles gripped the rim of his helmet–he was angry.

you’d started picking at your nails nervously, already knowing the conversation that was in store.

“what was that?” the shaggy-haired boy immediately confronted you as soon as you were within earshot. you shrugged, avoiding eye contact. jj scoffed at your refusal to answer verbally and set the helmet down on the seat of the old bike. “don’t give me that shit, y/n. what was that?”

the other pogues watched you two closely, the tension thick and salty in the air.

“it was nothing, jj, chill out.” you said defensively.

“it didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”

“okay, well,” you scoffed at the boy and finally raised your head to meet his scrutinizing gaze. “that's what it was. so…”

he didn’t seem to appreciate that answer. jj laughed humorously, the dry sound escaping his mouth in a bark of irritation. sensing another verbal brawl on the rise, pope was close behind his friend, body tense as he prepared to pull the boy away before things got out of hand.

“jj, it’s not that serious.” pope said gently into his ear in an effort to calm him down. “just let it go.”

“she’s talking to rafe cameron! that sounds pretty fucking serious to me.”

the brown-skinned boy stumbled back stlight as jj shoved him off his shoulder. cleo stood from her position on the ground at the commotion and kiara tensed beside you.

“jj, back off.” kiara spoke up. underneath the softness of her voice was a warning. you weren’t sure for what, but it was something that made the blond shake his head, clearly frustrated and displeased by the lack of anyone on his side.

not wanting to participate in another standoff with your friend, you let your legs carry you off somewhere safe from the fuming teen. familiar voices reprimanded him for his outburst but became more muffled the farther away you got, lost in the sound of all the commotion of the race.

jj hated rafe cameron. all of the pogues hated the kook prince, it was a given considering all that he had done, but jj despised him. 

before the gold changed everything about your lives, before sarah and cleo, jj had harbored a deep hatred of the eldest cameron child. not because he was entitled and classist; most kooks were like that, it came with the territory. no–it was because he was jealous. 

jj was jealous because no matter what rafe did, no matter how many times he sent you to his doorstep teary-eyed and stuttering, or feverish with a core-deep anger, you wouldn’t leave him. he thought rafe was not good for you, and maybe he was right, but you didn’t care then. you truly believed the boy would come to his senses some day, and you didn’t care how long you had to wait.

you never meant to string jj along, but deep in the back of your mind you knew you were.

it broke him to know that he would always come second as long as rafe was around. eventually he moved on to someone he could love without heartache, and that someone happened to be your best friend. his feelings for you never went away, and everyone knew it, even if they all pretended not to. including you. the guilt consumes you less that way.

the longing stares and lingering touches. the hesitant, curious kisses shared in the chateau’s backyard while everyone else was fast asleep. cleaning him up after bad scuff-ups with luke and letting him stay over at your house. the soft moonlight casting over you as you embraced each other beneath your covers, nimble fingers reaching up to wipe the silent tears that fell from his eyes. all distant memories that you both tried to forget about completely to keep the integrity of your; to salvage whatever remained.

but in that moment of jj confronting you, everyone saw what was beneath all the smoke and mirrors. rafe was stirring up trouble on purpose–he always did.

so it was no surprise that when the racers came back around for their final lap, with jj in the lead and rafe close on his tail, something had to happen to ruin the peace. 

“c’mon jayj!” kiara shouted at the boy speeding down the sand trail. “you got it, baby!”

“let’s go jj…” you whispered to yourself, far too sick to let the words leave your mouth fully. your were gnawing on your manicured fingernails, noting in your mind that they would need to be redone before the weekend ended and you had to be back at work. 

what the hell is rafe doing?

the older one was dangerously close to your friend. the wheels of his bike were nipping at jj’s as he made an effort to overtake his lead. john b wasn’t too far behind, but topper was on him too, the two boys fighting to get the best of each other amongst the rest of the group.

a wave of shock washed over the crowd as rafe rammed into jj, the pair of blonds flying out of their seats and landing harshly in the sand. a hand flew to your mouth to muffle your gasp. there was barely time to react before the large group of bikes not too far behind came full speed towards the finish line, engines roaring just as loud as the throng of people around you. you barely noticed topper crossing the finish line, too busy rushing out to check on the boy writhing in pain.

before you could reach them, jj shoved john b off of him in anger.

your brows furrowed together in concern, the sight of the scuffle both worrying and sending confusion through you. jj made eye contact with you from the distance and threw his helmet down before stalking off, everyone staring after him with a puzzled and disappointed expression.

“get used to it!” your head whipped around to see rafe pushing off the ground, his black racing suit covered in sand. he was clearly in pain, a hand cradling his neck and a slight limp in his stride as he approached the cheering crowd.

“what’d you say?” john b heard him as well, furious eyes searching for rafe’s figure momentarily. he stomped up to him and shoved the taller roughly as he spoke. “hey, what’d you say? huh?”

“john b!” you called out to him as you briskly walked towards the commotion. “john b, no! just leave it alone.”

rafe shoved him in return, the brunette stumbling backwards from the attack. sarah got in between them before it got any further, the blonde pushing the two boys out of the way as she scolded her brother.

“you could have killed each other!” she yelled, teeth bared and face red with rage.

rafe’s face was mostly stoic, eyes rolling just barely at his sister’s words.

“yeah, like you give a shit.”

sarah almost looked offended, but she didn’t respond immediately.

“you gonna kill me, like you killed dad?”

“rafe!” you finally spoke up in defense of your friend, mouth dropping open in disbelief at the words that fell from his lips. “what the fuck is your problem?”

you followed behind him when he kept walking, strides long to keep up with his own. the brunette girl he claimed to be “just friends” with was waiting for him a short distance away and you watched as his arms wrapped around her, celebrating as if he’d won the race. 

your jaw clenched as envy clawed its way up your spine.

“why do you have to do that?” your eyes were hard as you stared him down from your spot on the beach. disgust was etched into your face, hackles raising as the girl leaned into his side with a content look on her. “you haven’t won enough? like…wh-what do you even get out of doing shit like that, rafe? you both could’ve gotten seriously hurt, and for what! winning? again?”

kiara was right behind you the moment she recognized the sound of your yelling piercing her ears, the girl taking no time to back you up. her scent filled your nose as she stood inches away, the smell bringing you some calm as your skin burned hot.

“no,” rafe wore a smug look, lips quirked up in a smirk that only fueled the fire inside you. “no, no. i don’t care about winning; i always win.”

rafe let go of the brunette hanging off him, nose flaring as he took in a deep breath of the fresh ocean air. his eyes were locked on yours, the color reflecting the water crashing against the sand behind you.

kiara backed away, the warmth of her body leaving yours as she took three steps in the other direction. she refused to let him get too close to her, the fear she felt after what he did to her understandable. you didn’t move, though. you stood your ground and let him stand before you. the distance between your bodies was so small you could smell the mint on his breath from his chewing gum and the familiar scent of his cologne flooded your senses.

“i always win, and your pogues always lose.” his voice reverberated deep inside as he smiled down at you, the expression sickeningly sweet.

you swallowed thickly, body tingling from his closeness. god, how you wish he couldn’t make you feel like this anymore.

his breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in further, voice low so that only you could hear.

“you picked the wrong boyfriend, baby…” faux pity coated his words. his lips brushed against the skin of your ear, and you took in a shaky breath, anger quickly dissipated as your body froze in place “could always come back, y’now, when you’re done losing with ‘em.”

rafe pulled back and you looked up at him, eyes glossy and lips slightly agape as you tried to steady your breathing without anyone noticing.

he always did.

“good seeing you, kie.” he never took his eyes off you as he backed away, retreating to the fling waiting for him to return to her grasp. “and i’m serious, y/n.”

[theminecraftbee]

okay so. hear me out. but. au concept--

joel is one of many people affected by a Vanishing. its a phenomenon sweeping the country--people simply not showing up for work, school, life one day, as though they've vanished from the face of the earth. it's almost possible to mistake for normal missing persons cases, if it weren't for the way a few of the higher-profile Vanishings have happened to people who shouldn't have been able to vanish at all, let alone in a way that wouldn't be noticed until too late. look at joel's hometown. the people monitoring the dam were supposed to be redundant, and yet--

anyway. not like he cares or anything, except for the fact this stupid disaster or whatever has left him without anywhere to live or anyone to live with, and he still has a year of high school left, so he can't just do whatever he wants. luckily there's this school in a town called new hermiton that agreed to give him a scholarship to finish his education in the name of recovery and solidarity or whatever, and it's kind of a shwankier school than he'd normally go for, but it's free and, more importantly, they're willing to pay for his lodging, and he can't really turn that down. and it's not like he has a choice but to upend his entire life now. so packing what few of his belongings survived into a bag and getting on a train and moving across the country to a new school it is, he guesses.

(he's been having nightmares that inexplicably feature swarms of blue butterflies. last time he checked, lakes don't have butterflies in them. although maybe it's a metaphor or something, on account of the butterflies saying stupid stuff about how people who are remembered can't disappear, and even a false world cannot be erased if it's watched over, and how fate depends on him holding people in his heart. thanks for saying the same stupid shitty platitudes his social worker told him, just more cryptically, butterflies. real cool.)

new hermiton, it turns out, is a small city. while new hermiton academy is a newer school, much of the city is older. he's moved into a nice enough flat in an older apartment building. he has another cryptic butterfly dream. he thinks he remembers someone trying to urgently warn him of something, but it's all... shaky. that morning, he goes to the school for the first time. he's greeted by a fellow transfer student, skizzleman, although apparently he already knows some of the other folks in town, and transferred here so he could stay with them. but it's at least someone else in a similar enough situation to joel, especially since joel can just tell by the way people are looking at him that skizz didn't have much of a choice but to be here, either, and best friends with impulse or not, he's on his own too.

so. a friend. maybe this school won't be that bad, even if joel keeps having nightmares, and even if the weather here is weirdly cold for july, and even if his new homeroom professor keeps on looking at him really weirdly. (aren't professors supposed to be better about stupid rumors anyway? what's that mr. hills's deal?)

and then, two days later, he waves skizz off at the end of the school day, and gets skizz's friend, impulse, at his door, desperate to hear that skizz had just come to stay the night in joel's shitty lonely apartment, because otherwise it looks like--come on man. joel's already having a shit time. the universe deciding to go after his one existing friend too? he promises impulse to help investigate that night, in the vain hope that Skizz isn't one of the Vanished. joel gets a splitting migraine trying to follow their path back, though, and they have to stop for the night.

skizz is reported missing the next morning. joel resigns himself to cutting himself off from the people around him, as per usual. then, strangely, mr. hills corners him as he goes home.

"you'll need this," he says, and shoves what feels like a cheap butterfly knife into joel's hands. "uh, remember, trust your heart! you'll know how to use it."

"what," joel says. "hold on. you're supposed to be a teacher. why are you giving me this. i know for a fact my file says i have like, ptsd or whatever, which is stupid, but you definitely aren't supposed to be giving me a knife, you weirdo?"

"you'll know how to use it," joe hills says again. "goodbye! believe in yourself!"

mr. hills sprints behind a building before he has to explain anything else. joel is left standing on the sidewalk holding a knife, staring after him.

so. that's weird as hell. joel shivers in the cold and continues on his way home. the butterfly knife feels heavy in his pockets. he should probably report that guy to his social worker or something, but actually talking to his social worker feels like conceding defeat. joel can take care of himself. he can prove he can take care of himself. just watch him. step one: go out to get ramen because he forgot to buy any food for his apartment.

he sees impulse putting up signs as he eats. impulse looks miserable. joel thinks about how skizz, just in the short time he'd known him, had sort of unintentionally given away that he felt isolated after his mother Vanished. that impulse was a great friend, but impulse didn't understand what it was like. he never really SAID as much, but--

it's not fair to impulse, for that to be the last thing impulse remembered of what was apparently a friend since childhood. and joel doesn't care about any of these guys, but he can still pay his check and go out and help impulse go looking. he's no good at comforting people and doesn't know this guy, but joel had been alone too, sitting on the roof and crying, when the helicopters came.

except when they go back to the path by the school, joel's head starts to hurt again.

he looks up and there's a butterfly.

"hey, impulse, are butterflies common here?" he asks, a little desperately.

"i mean, not really, why?" impulse says.

"uh," joel says, and gestures. the two of them stare as the strange yellow butterfly circles in place.

"okay, so that is kind of weird," impulse admits.

"right?" joel says. "the only way it would be weirder is if it were blue." impulse gives him a look. joel does not explain.

it starts to fly away.

"we should follow it," impulse says, his voice getting a little dull. "yeah. we should follow it."

"what? no! no we should not follow the haunted butterfly, are you nuts?" joel says, but it's a bit too late. (maybe this is what the knife is for: stabbing impulse. it would be an effective method of stopping him!) he chases impulse down, down to the river, where yellow butterflies are swarming. impulse, as though possessed, simply steps into the swarm and falls through them to the water.

joel's, uh, freaking out more than a little bit? he'll admit he's freaking out. he dives forward to try to grab him, only to realize that he doesn't see impulse anywhere.

a single blue butterfly lands on joel's shoulder. "do you hold his heart next to yours?"

"i'm going insane," joel says.

"no heart is meant to be completely alone. do you hold his next to yours?"

"this isn't happening," joel says. "this is like a stupid manga or something. it's not happening."

"there is still time to save them; you must hold your heart strong, or the consequences will be dire. i believe in you."

the butterfly vanishes.

"fuck it," joel says. "if i drown then it's nothing people haven't expected of me anyway."

he steps through the swarm of butterflies.

that night, he drags both impulse and skizz out of the river. they're all freezing cold. shadows and strange, yellowy liquid still cling to all of their skin. also, joel stabbed himself, which like, glad to know that's what the knife was for, apparently, and the scar is warm and comforting. he can feel his--persona, and don't ask him how he knows that--shifting under his skin, under the mark on his hand. it said its name is pygmalion; it says it is a piece of joel's soul.

this is all patently insane. but skizz and impulse are alive and NOT eaten by shadow monsters, so even if they're both a little unconscious, joel takes that as a win.

they lie on the ground outside the river. someone stumbles across them. "well give me some teeth and call me an alligator. you got out on your own," breathes a fellow student clutching a dagger. joel thinks he's in the class across the hall. also--

"what are you talking about," joel wheezes.

"you found it on your own. you can find them?" the student says. his eyes are wide. something in joel's soul recognizes something in the student's. something in joel's BRAIN puts two and two together and realizes why mr. hills gave him a knife.

"no. no, go away, i don't want to be involved in this," joel says.

"well, don't you think it's too late for that?" the student says, and joel passes out. he's pretty sure the butterflies have to be laughing at him. in fact, as though to mock him further, after passing out, he doesn't even get to avoid it forever, because he wakes up in a glowing blue boat. there is a man with white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue outfit leaning over him, poking him.

joel takes no responsibility for punching him. he'd do it again, too, as the long-nosed man sitting next to the unmanned steering wheel welcomes him to the velvet room.

(this, joel realizes later, all rather sets the tone for what the next year of his life is about to become.)

[navstuffs]

Secret Admirer

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNLibrarian!Reader

Summary: It is fall, and Leon Kennedy has a secret admirer.

Warning tags:  ROOTH TOOTING FLUFF, college au, leon wears glasses, shy!reader&leon, leon self depreciates a bit

Author's Notes: hiii. though where i live fall doesn’t exist (i swear, we are all being cooked alive at this point), im happy to write something to welcome fall! dedicated to @sarahs-secrets2 whose birthday is tomorrow! happy birthday, my friend!! thank you for being such an amazing friend to me, you are the best!! also i won't lie, i might be working on a small drabble for a smutty second part (flannel shirts, all im saying). dividers by @firefly-graphics. images found on pinterest and edited on faceapp.

leon's masterlist

It all starts right at the beginning of fall.

Leon Kennedy never considered himself the type of guy someone could deeply fall in love with. In his own opinion, he has always been an average kind of guy. A little shy, with a pair of black glasses in front of his eyes since he couldn't see long or short distances.

Since entering college and breaking up with his first (and only) girlfriend, romance wasn't clearly in his plans. He had to focus on his studies to become a lawyer and pass the bar exam. Unlike his colleagues, who partied every Friday, Leon was busy with his head inside books—most of the time.

There is also another weighting factor: Leon had a merit-based scholarship. It is not something he would tell someone, but it meant he had worked his ass off to get there, prove himself to stay there every semester. He couldn't waste his time with anything, especially with romance.

Leon enters the already chilly Friday, his scarf close to his face. For some reason, fall had arrived earlier, and he couldn't be more grateful. The library is almost empty, except for a few students here and there. He goes to his usual spot, between two tall bookshelves, a seat at the very end, hidden from the rest of the world. Before he can get there, a smiling familiar face carrying a few books in their arms appears in his path: you, who worked in the library and was always ready to help students whenever needed.

"Back already?" You joke, whispering. Leon feels his blush spread, smiling back.

"You know me, can't stay away too long."

You giggle, seeming equally flustered. There is a moment of silence where you two stare at each other, saying nothing else. Then, you handle Leon one of the books from your arms.

"Here. This just arrived today. I hope it can be helpful."

Before Leon can answer, you leave, waving, without looking directly at his face. Leon walks to his usual spot, removes his jacket, and hangs on the chair before placing the book on the table. He sits, opens the first page, and finds a yellow post-it with something written on it. Leon then takes his glass case out of his backpack, changing his distance ones to the reading ones. Yeah, he was one of those blessed ones who couldn't see far away or close. There it was, written in blue ink:

"Hi! I hope I don't scare you by writing this, but I just wanted to let you know you are adorable!" 

Leon's eyebrows raise as he looks around. Most students in there have their heads on their books. You had given this book to him earlier, so maybe? No, Leon realizes. So many other students have probably read it before. Wait, but didn't you say the book just arrived today? Well, it could have been a donation, and someone left it there.

Without making much noise, Leon gets up to look for you behind your front desk. You seem focused but promptly raise your head when you see Leon coming.

"Hey. Something wrong?" Your face is blurred, and Leon suddenly realizes he didn't change into his long-distance glasses.

"Yeah. Someone left this note in the book. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Oh." Leon handles the book for you, and he can't quite figure out your expression due to the lack of proper glasses. "I guess it came with the donation."

"Yeah. Probably." You whisper back in a strange tone. Leon gives you a slight nod before returning to his usual spot. Well, that was odd, but he didn't have time to think much about it. He needed to remain focused anyway.

Next Friday comes, and the temperatures slowly start dropping, which comes with a relief to Leon. He hates the heat, despises how the Earth is warming up, and nobody seems to give a damn about it. The view to the campus Library looks so pretty now: straight out from a book, orange leaves on the floor, crunching as Leon walks over them. It was one of his favorite Autumn activities when he was a kid—that and carving pumpkins. The only problem with the sudden chilly weather was his glasses getting fogged, but hey, it seemed like a fair trade.

He arrives near the library's building, finding you outside. You are wearing a deep green sweater with some trees drawn on it. On the top of your head, a cute black hat protects your ears. Leon can't help but smile when he notices you rub your hands and arms.

"It is not even that cold yet." Leon teases as he gets close. You look back at him, startled but happy to see him.

"Says the one with the heavy jacket and a scarf!"

"Hey!" Leon complains, pretending to be insulted. "At least this is better than the heat we had before, right?"

"Yeah."

Before Leon can walk in and leave you alone, he asks, his curiosity peaking.

"Hey, so what about that note from last week? Discovered where it was from?"

"Oh." You seem taken aback by his question before shrugging, "I don't know. I threw it away anyway. Nothing important."

Leon nods before waving and walking into the warmth of the library. It is as empty as last week, which Leon prefers. He goes to his usual spot, noticing the yellow post-it on top of his table. Leon rushes to grab it and read. It is written in the same blue ink as before.

"Just wanted to wish you a good week. I admire you from afar, hoping you achieve all your goals!"

Leon's first reaction is to look for you, show you the new note, and believe again this is a mistake. But then he ponders, his curiosity speaking louder. No, he isn't interested in romance, nor does he have time for it. But, if those notes are really, really meant for him, why? He isn't that special or someone who should have secret admirers. Leon has always been curious, so he places the note in his pocket.

In the weeks following, he ends up receiving more and more notes. They are on top of his desk, under the desk, near the wall, always visible so he can find them. And since the first two ones, they have started to come signed with "Your Secret Admirer." It can't just be a coincidence at this point.

"You are doing amazing, and I hope you continue to do so! - Your secret admirer."

"I wish I could say how much I admire you to your adorable face! - Your secret admirer."

"It makes me so happy to see you pursuing your dream; it gives me the courage to pursue mine! - Your secret admirer."

"One of these days, I will gather the courage to invite you out, but until then, I keep thinking about you as I look at the stars."

Leon's suspicions are towards someone inside the library, of course. His first thought is you, but it simply can't be. You are too bright, too cute, too funny for him. Deep down, Leon wishes it was you; he might have harbored a tiny crush on you since the first time you helped him, but he knows it can't be. His other suspicions are the other people in the library, but he barely knows them, except for an eventual nod or "hello" here and there.

It is finally time for the first week of exams, and the library is getting crowded. Leon arrives earlier that Friday and, for a miracle, can find his spot empty and, sadly, no note this time. He tries not to concentrate on his disappointment, focusing on his studies when, in the corner of his eyes, he comes into the corridor. You look dressed for a freezing winter, rushing toward Leon with something in your hands. When you see him, you stop in your tracks, your eyes slightly going wide. Then you turn around, leaving in the other direction. 

Much later that night, Leon walks to the front desk. You look busy but still manage to give him a tired smile.

"Getting crazy over here, huh."

"Yeah. It is time for the tests, so people can go a little crazy." You explain, shrugging. You look anxious, but Leon presumes it relates to the agitated week. "Hey, do you mhm like pumpkin chocolate brownies?"

"Sure?" Leon's stomach grumbles as you pull out something from your drawer. He hadn't had something to eat since he came to the library three hours ago. Two small pumpkin chocolate brownies, probably from the candy shop near the campus. "Thanks, I haven't eaten anything today."

"Just don't eat here, okay?" You wink, smiling.

Leon holds them, staring at your table as you return your attention to your work. A pile of books is nearby and more on the other side of the table. His attention is drawn to a small yellow paper folded so many times. He gathers his courage and opens his mouth to finally ask you what he has been dying to ask you this whole time.

"Hey, is it you my—?"

"Excuse me, can you help me find this book?" A female student calls your attention, interrupting Leon. You didn't seem to have heard anything, Leon asked, excusing yourself to help the stressed lady. 

Leon watches his surroundings. He shouldn't think about that, but his body works faster than his mind. Leon grabs the yellow folded paper and runs away without looking back, his whole face red. Did he just steal something? 

When he is out of the library range, he stops near a street light and frantically opens the post-it, his hands shaking, not due to the cold. Could it be you? Could it be really you? Leon reads it once. Then twice.

"Hey, I know you have been studying so hard. Here, have some pumpkin chocolate brownies to sweeten your night and give you some luck for the tests!- Your Secret Admirer."

So, it is you. Leon re-reads the sentence over and over again, thinking of different possibilities. It could have been an accident, right? Someone else could have brownies for him, some other secret admirer. But so specific like that?

"Stop. You are overreacting." Leon whispers to himself, placing the note in his jacket pocket. He looks back towards the library, half of him demanding for him to go back in there and face you. Wasn't Leon that wanted to have been you this whole time? Keeping all the notes even though they might not be for him? Wasn't he even considering opening an exception for this rule just because of you?

Leon will make a decision. Not tonight, no. Tonight, he will enjoy the feeling of knowing you are his secret admirer. 

Two weeks pass, and you don't see Leon. You wonder where he is since the last time he almost caught you placing the brownies and the note on his desk. You should have known he would arrive earlier since Leon has been so responsible about his studies (something you admired about him). Not coming for two weeks? You wonder if he was sick. Or maybe Leon chose to study in his dorm since the library had been so crowded lately.

After helping an agitated first-year who couldn't find a Math book, you walk back to your table and find a Pumpkin bookmark there. You turn it around, finding a sentence in beautiful handwriting: "Some say Autumn isn't the season of love, but I disagree when I have Fallen for you. - Your Not-So-Secret-Admirer?"

You feel your cheeks heating up, immediately thinking about Leon and finding him right before you, his entire face red as a tomato. You open your mouth and close it, unsure what to say.

"Sorry. I hope that didn't scare you."

"N-no! You didn't!" You reply loud enough to get some "sshhh." You shut your mouth, looking apologetic towards Leon, who smiles.

"Would you like to go out with me? There is a harvest fair nearby, and I was wondering if we could..."

"I would love to." You rush to answer, whispering. "If I don't disturb your studies, of course."

"Nope, not a problem."

Some might say nothing grows during Autumn. The leaves fall as the plants prepare for another winter until spring gives them life again, and the cycle repeats. Well, some things can bloom during Autumn, as Leon Kennedy's smile to you is enough proof of that.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship. 

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself. 

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement. 

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight. 

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone. 

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers. 

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him. 

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell. 

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor. 

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance. 

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm. 

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death. 

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are. 

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack. 

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets. 

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by. 

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger. 

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk. 

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall. 

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost. 

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse. 

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces. 

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street. 

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.” 

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away. 

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life. 

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed. 

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes. 

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either. 

Something cold lodges itself in his chest. 

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up. 

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window. 

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal. 

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him. 

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder. 

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor. 

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero. 

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen. 

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge. 

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner. 

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret. 

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter six

check out the hockey glossary here (updated through chapter six)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

read Chapter Six on ao3

Tommy nearly hadn’t made it here.

Not in terms of mortality — four years ago, he’d blocked a shot with his skate, and felt the twinge of it for the rest of the game, but it wasn’t until he’d taken his skate off and seen his foot swell to three times it’s normal size that the adrenaline had worn off.

The force of the puck had broken his foot in three places.

He’d spent almost a year rehabbing that injury, and there’d been a month or so there when the numbness of the pain meds they’d prescribed him had been preferable to thinking about the trajectory of his career — getting into junior leagues far too old to really make waves, paying for travel teams off the pity of his aunt; the scholarship that had barely covered his tuition as he worked his way through a degree, sleeping three hours a night and housing enough coffee to keep a South American country’s economy alive, mornings and evenings devoted to a hockey team that hadn’t made a D1 playoff appearance in years and days spent reading and rereading his lecture notes like if he somehow stayed a good student, the scholarship might cover his meals by the time he was a senior; drafted by Toronto in the fifth round sort of as a throwaway, and spending the next two years bouncing from AHL to ECHL teams without even a glimpse of a shot at the show; a trade to an on-the-rise Pittsburg and an injured Penguin who no one else on the farm team had enough knowledge of both defensive and forward positions to fill his spot; a year and a half riding the bench with the brightest fucking star this league had seen since Gretzky, and realizing that for all that he and Sidney Crosby had had incredibly different life experiences, at the end of the day they were cut from the same cloth; ten more years of bouncing from team to team, mentoring every mentally ill first round draft pick that latched on to him day one, learning half the leagues dirty laundry without ever once airing his own.

The day he’d rolled out of bed and popped three oxy before he’d been awake enough to assess his pain levels, he’d spent six hours researching therapists and flushed the rest of the pills down the drain.

Therapy had taught him plenty. About himself, about the world at large, about how to manage every Big Feeling he’d ever repressed just to make it through the next few hours.

He wouldn’t call himself a paragon of mental health. He’s still never said the words aloud to Harold, even though they’ve danced around that issue as much as they possibly can. He’s subsisted on hookups and beards for most of his life, and he’s never let himself imagine a world where the things he desires most want him back.

It’s a lonely way to live, according to Harold, and sometimes he wonders if the people in his life who know pity him for it.

Buck brushes past him into his hotel room, and Tommy takes five steadying breaths, presses his heels into the floor, and turns to stare at the back of Buck’s head while he stares around the room like he’s not set up in a carbon copy of it, six doors down.

Tommy shuts the door, and doesn’t let himself think about who might have been poking their head out at just the right time to see Tommy let him in.

(It’s a ridiculous thought. They’re friends. They play on the same team together. Maybe Buck is just here to lay into him the way Bobby hadn’t about how fucking stupid a risk it was to get himself thrown in the box with ten minutes left in a game.)

Buck makes a move towards the bed, then seems to second guess it. There is a painting on the wall that is likely an exact match for the one in every room on this floor, three uneven black lines splashed across a background of ocean-blue. A television taking up the entire length of the chest of drawers, a desk with an ergonomic chair tucked into a little alcove, and two uncomfortable looking chairs around a tiny table, cast in the orange glow of the city below them, framed by curtains Tommy hasn’t even been here long enough to close.

No distractions. No trinkets, nothing to draw the eye that Buck hasn’t seen a million times before, unless Buck is suddenly extremely interested in the airport bodice ripper cracked open and balanced on the pillow next to where Tommy had been lounging, before the knock.

Buck eyes it for a moment, shockingly blank faced, before he turns to Tommy and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“I need to apologize,” Buck begins, once the air in his lungs has been blown back out, and Tommy’s eyes snap to his. Pockets. He has pockets.

Christ, he’s in the most threadbare sweatpants he owns, the pockets were a bad idea.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Buck.” Not to him, anyway.

“Evan,” Buck interrupts, and time stills. He feels like they’re threading a needle, frayed edges that refuse to line up, but if they just snip off the ends... “When we met, I told you to call me Evan, but you never did.”

His smile is wry, and he wrings his hands, nerves on full display as he takes yet another weighted breath. In contrast, Tommy feels like a marionette who’s master has pulled all his strings tight and wandered off to parts unknown.

“I do need to apologize,” he continues. “I’ve been — I haven’t been fair to you, or Eddie, but right now I’m... I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick, and it’s not your fault.”

“Everyone has bad days.” And why is Tommy crossing his arms, now? What astronomically horrible thing is Buck about to say to him that he feels the need to guard himself from it? Sorry, I hope we can be friends.

“It’s been, like, weeks, man, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. Not my proudest moment. Series, of moments.”

Something loosens, in his core, a slow unravelling as Buck stares at him imploringly, and Tommy feels one side of his mouth tilting up. Buck’s gaze follows the little twitch, head tilting (always the fucking head tilt, with him) his own serious expression melting, just a little. “Noted.”

“Did I ever tell you my sister used to take me to Bears games, every year?”

The non sequitur throws him for a loop. Tommy rolls his lips in, bites at the flesh of his lower one and raises a brow, not bothering to pretend he has any idea where this is going.

“Travel leagues always made it difficult, but — every year we’d find a way to make it to the the teddy bear toss. We’d go with, like, ten stuffed animals a piece, and she’d always get the good seats — close enough to the glass that during that first toss, we’d get buried under all the ones that didn’t get thrown far enough to make it to the ice, so I’d spend twenty minutes getting all mine over the glass, and then all the ones that didn’t make it.”

Tommy remembers his time in Hershey fondly. He’d been down with the flu, for the first charity game, and halfway out the door for the second, but when that goal buzzer sounded and the stuffed animals rained down, he’d done the same thing as every other player on the ice, a time honored tradition of diving at the piles of them like kids jumping into freshly raked leaves.

“The last time she took me, I was fifteen. Too cool for school, by then, and I spent the whole game kind of hating her for making me go.”

Tommy blinks, doing the math while Buck’s smile goes a little wide.

“There was this player, though, that I hadn’t seen the year before. I was so scrawny, back then, and just, like, obsessed with goons. Just the idea of them. Big tough guys, whose only real job was to make sure if someone messed with their teammates they’d pay for it.”

Tommy’d played that game with three bruised ribs he’d re-injured jumping into a pile of kids toys.

Buck’s head tilts from one side to the other. “When that first goal got scored, and everyone started throwing bears, I was — I was up almost up against the glass, pouting about it, arguing with Maddie, trying to hand her all the ones she’d brought for me to throw. And this guy — this guy I’d nearly lost my voice cheering for every time he laid a filthy hit, right? He skated right up to the glass and started giving me shit for not helping my neighbors clear out all the stuffed animals stuck on the wrong side of the boards.”

Tommy doesn’t know when he’d let his arms fall loose at his sides again, or when they’d started to drift closer, but he’s close enough to smell the pomade in Buck’s hair when the memory surfaces.

“I had to barter my fucking stick to get you to start throwing bears.”

Buck’s laugh is quiet, soft and bright while his cheeks dance up. “I still have it,” he admits, eyes dipping to the floor, like he’s nervous. “Your rookie card, too. I mean, I have, like, hundreds of rookie cards, but when I found out we were trading for you I had Maddie pull that box out of storage, and for three months now I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

Tommy swallows, shifts his weight. Harold is gonna have a fucking field day, trying to help Tommy unpack all of this. Buck is smiling, wide, eyes catching the light as he chases Tommy’s gaze.

“My sister says there are better ways to get someone’s attention than maiming my best friend about it.”

Tommy has spent twenty years being overly cautious. The first and only time he’d attempted to hold down a relationship, the guy had decided to surprise him by buying tickets behind the bench for an away game three thousand miles away, and rather than enjoy the win and whisk him off to his hotel room before the rest of the team realized he’d left dinner early, he’d refused to look beyond the glass all game, and sent him a confirmation for a return flight, hiding in the bathroom between the second and the third.

Tommy wants to kiss him.

Say fuck it to the last twenty years, throw it down the drain, ignore every precaution he’s ever taken for the silver-blue shine in Evan Buckley’s eyes as he says too much and not enough at the same time.

He has great fucking lips. Pink and plump with a nasty habit of going a little pouty, when he’s at rest, and Tommy doesn’t need to look down at them to confirm, but he does anyway, and follows the line of his jaw, the stretch of tendons in his neck as he swallows. He can just make out the silvery line of the scar tucked next to the bunched up fabric of the hoodie he’s wearing.

“I don’t have your rookie card,” Tommy admits between breaths, and Buck’s laugh catches and falters just before he leans in and captures Tommy’s lips between his own.

It’s quiet, at first.

Tommy’s hand, with a mind of it’s own, slides up, two fingers pressing to the meaty underside of Buck’s jaw to improve the angle. Lips against lips, and the quiet breath that escapes Buck when Tommy is satisfied with the tilt of Buck’s head and drops his hand to Buck’s waist, fingers just ghosting over the fabric there before he presses his palm in.

Buck takes that for a green fucking light, surging in with a tilt of his head, nose pressed to Tommy’s cheek as his tongue slides along the seam of Tommy’s lips, half a step closer as one hand comes up to cradle Tommy’s jaw, the other smoothing over the fabric at Tommy’s shoulder, fingers digging in to the meat of his muscle for the span of a moment before he slides the hand down to cup his elbow.

Tommy gasps into his mouth, and Buck just dives right in.

When Tommy was twelve, one of the kids on the cul de sac, Terry Waters, had spent an hour complaining about his mom while they all practiced The Michigan, oblivious to Tommy seething in silence, barely keeping a lid on the urge to remind them all that at least they had moms. The only one of them who’d gotten close to nailing it was an eight year old girl on her pastel-pink roller skates, and Tommy can still remember the way she’d looked, for all of a moment, with the whiffle ball tucked against the blade of a stick half-a-foot too tall for her, right before Terry Waters had knocked a knee against her stick and dislodged the ball.

Two years later, he’d kissed Terry Waters under the bleachers in the gym of their high school, and when they’d broken apart Terry had wiped his whole forearm across the lower half of his face and threatened to tell Tommy’s dad if he ever told another soul what they’d just done.

Buck’s thumb slides across his jaw, tucks itself neatly into his cleft and presses down, just enough pressure to force Tommy’s mouth a little wider.

Tommy needs a minute. They both need a minute.

They both need to get a fucking grip, is what they need to do.

Tommy exerts some forward momentum on the hand that is currently fisted in the fabric of Buck’s hoodie, bunching it at the waist, and Buck whines, high and reedy, lips twisting up against Tommy’s, and though his torso follows the direction of Tommy’s hand, his head and neck don’t move.

“Buck,” Tommy murmurs across his lips, and doesn’t fight the feeling of Buck’s hand curling around the side of his neck, or the way Buck uses the fulcrum of his gentle shove to swing his hips and press his weight right back into Tommy, and — fuck, they need to think about this, they need to talk about this, they need to get further away from the bed that is right behind Buck.

Buck nips at Tommy’s lower lip and Tommy groans, desperately searching his mind for anything that could derail this without sending Buck running out the door.

“Evan,” Tommy says, and Buck stills against him, breath coming in heavy pants as he pulls just far enough away to catch Tommy’s eye. There’s a rosy tint to his cheeks, and a heavy look in his eye, mouth still open and an obscene little curl to his lower lip. Buck blinks, gaze taking a leisurely little stroll from holding Tommy’s gaze, down over the slope of his nose, right back to Tommy’s lips, and when he sways back in Tommy lets him, for just a moment.

Unfurling his fingers from the fabric of Buck’s shirt, he straightens his palm and tucks it up against Buck’s ribs, which earns him a breathy sigh and a squeeze at his elbow, followed closely by a groan of protest when Tommy presses, gently pushing him back half a step.

He blinks, again, a second before the grin begins to overtake his expression once more. “Tommy,” he intones, slightly mocking, and Tommy can’t quite hide the twitch of his lips as he tries desperately to keep a straight face. “Say it again.”

They need to talk about this. Tommy still has an apology of his own, fully scripted with contingencies for whatever reactions he’d anticipated Buck having. This hadn’t factored in to a single one of his scenarios. Tommy takes a moment to straighten out the bunched fabric of his hoody. “It,” he quips, shifting just his eyes up, staring through his lashes as Buck purses his lips in faux-irritation. Buck shifts his weight back, and Tommy nearly loses his balance without Buck’s hand to steady him. “Evan.”

He laughs, bright and happy in this sensibly decorated hotel room, with the lights of Boston casting the side of his face in an orange glow that makes the shadows of his laugh lines stand out starkly against his skin. “Yeah, I know why I introduced myself like that, now.”

Tommy would like to point out the utter insanity of the last ten minutes. Maybe see what he remembers of the Microsoft Office suite, set up a PowerPoint presentation with clipart and horrible transitions for each slide. Write a paper on how fucking batshit this is.

Buck slides his hand around Tommy’s hip, thumb rolling neatly and eagerly under the hem of Tommy’s shirt to shift against bare skin, and he looks a little smug when Tommy’s breath catches. Tommy attempts a stern expression, but he’s pretty sure all he manages is fond. “I am not sleeping with you tonight, Evan Buckley.”

“Presumptuous,” Buck murmurs, sliding back into Tommy’s space, two fingers in the pocket of Tommy’s sweats and the meat of his cheek sucked between his teeth. “I am gonna kiss you again, though,” he warns, and Tommy decides they’ll have plenty of time to talk, later.

---

Buck hitches a leg up over Tommy’s thigh, as the sun tips out over the horizon.

Somewhere between frantic make-outs number three and four, they’d stumbled their way over to the bed, and despite the hundreds of sirens and bells and gongs going off in his head, he’d let himself be tugged down over Buck, tongue sliding to the roof of his mouth while Buck snuck a grab at handfuls of his ass.

But he hadn’t pushed it any further.

It was only when their jaws had started to ache that he’d wheedled an invitation to stay out of Tommy, puppy-eyed pleading out in full force as he rolled his head against a pillow, glowering at the paperback in his way (how they hadn’t disturbed it, Tommy has no fucking clue) before tucking the thumb he’d had in Tommy’s mouth five minutes earlier in between the pages to hold his place while he scrambled up on his stupid long legs to grab a spare piece of paper from the notepad on the desk to use as a bookmark.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself and everything,” he’d promised, which had been a flagrant lie.

But he hadn’t pushed — fingers tracing the hills and valleys of Tommy’s abs while he admitted he’d had himself a nice long fit over how much Sidney Crosby seemed to know about him, lips ghosting over the arm of Tommy’s t-shirt as he told him about the enlightening conversation he’d had with Maddie, two days earlier, palm a steady weight against Tommy’s ribcage as he confessed to wanting to slew-foot his best friend for monopolizing all of Tommy’s attention, the last few weeks.

Buck’s half-hard, against the seam of Tommy’s sweats, but even as he readjusts the angle of the leg he’s thrown over Tommy’s, there’s no effort to ramp things back up. He’s been yawning between rambles for a good hour, now, and Tommy’s been too caught up in trying to memorize the exact color and shape of his birthmark to call him out on it. But his words have begun to slow, his eyelashes shifting against Tommy’s shoulder as he keeps trying to blink himself awake, and despite no longer having any plans for this morning, they’re both going to regret staying up so late when they have a game in a day and a half. “We should sleep,” Tommy says, and Buck digs his nose into Tommy’s shoulder in protest, shaking his head while he yawns into the meat of Tommy’s bicep.

“I’m — not even —.” His breath blows out hot against Tommy’s arm. “Not even tired,” he promises, fingers stretching out over Tommy’s ribcage.

Tommy’s hand makes a pass through the close-cropped hair on the back of Buck’s head and his lashes flutter closed. “Well, as you so deftly pointed out earlier, I’ve got almost a decade on you. Old man bones need rest.”

Buck snorts into Tommy’s armpit. “Thought we weren’t talking about your old man bone, tonight.”

There’s something achy and warm blooming beneath Tommy’s ribs that he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until they’ve both slept on this. He grabs the spare pillow from behind his head and whacks Buck’s thigh, instead. “Weak, three out of ten, I know you can do better.”

“Guess I need to rest and recuperate my flirting skills.”

Tommy hums, and lets his eyes tip closed as Buck fluffs up pillows and rearranges his limbs. He’s asleep before Buck’s even fully settled.

---

Tommy scrambles out of bed at the knock on his door, blinking sleep out of his eyes as his hand slides across the opposite side of the bed, which is rumpled and cool.

He takes a beat to wonder exactly how much of the previous night he’s going to regret, when a cursory glance around the room reveals no signs of Buck.

The knocking starts up again, and Tommy runs a hand over his face, checks the time.

9:45

Four hours of sleep, and still the latest he’s slept in in about ten years.

A third round of knocking interrupts his muddy thoughts, and he levers himself up out of bed with a groan, fully prepared to slam the door back in whoever’s face once he’s given them a cursory greeting and the stink eye, but when he swings the door open he’s met with the smiling face of Eddie, who is holding up a take-out bag with a raised brow.

Christ.

He hadn’t even looked in the mirror before he’d opened the door. He wonders how likely it is that Eddie will believe him if he plays off the hickey he knows Buck had been aiming to mark into the side of his neck as a bruise from Johnston’s chokehold, yesterday afternoon.

“Hey,” he says, and freezes a moment later when the toilet flushes in the bathroom.

Eddie tips his head from side to side. “So I guess you and Buck made up, too.”

(Teeth sliding along his lower lip, a hand around the back of his neck, Buck smiling bashfully against Tommy’s lips as he told him he’d apologized to Eddie before knocking on Tommy’s door.)

“Mm, yeah. We talked.”

Eddie squints at him. “Clearly.”

Tommy has no idea what the fuck that means, and he’s terrified to ask. They hadn’t talked about shit last night. (They’d talked about a million things, actually, the same shit they did with walls between them and phones tucked to their ears, but not this. Not exactly what either one of them were willing to let anyone else know.)

He’s saved the burden of responding by the bathroom door swinging open. Buck’s in the same jeans he’d worn the previous night, but he’s wearing one of Tommy’s t-shirts, and Tommy spends thirty seconds waffling between full-blown panic and a steady thrum of lust.

Buck snags the bag from Eddie’s outstretched fingers, and Eddie reels back, a practiced look of offense on his face.

Tommy is suddenly remembering the rumpled sheets and the indent on the pillow that is fully visible to Eddie from his position in the doorway. He doesn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at the bag Buck has cradled carefully to his chest. “What’s up?”

“Josh asked me to tell Tommy to, and I quote, ‘answer his goddamn texts and stop pretending to be a dinosaur, I know he knows how to use his phone’. End quote.”

“Well, you’ve told him.” Buck nods, and Eddie’s lips purse.

“Are you punishing me right now?”

“No.”

“Because it feels like you’ve made up with Tommy and now you’re trying to even out the time I spent with him solo by sharing our favorite food in this city with only Tommy.”

Which explains exactly why he’d been completely unsurprised to see Buck wandering out of Tommy’s bathroom at a completely reasonable hour of the day to find a teammate in another teammates room.

“If I give you half my sandwich, will you go back to running errands for Josh and leave me alone?”

Eddie rolls his tongue over his teeth, and tips his head side to side. “I want a full sandwich. I know you ordered an extra one.”

They have an intense little staring contest, right there in the doorway. Buck gives in with a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

“And a pickle, just for the implication that I do anything for Russo of my own free will.”

Buck’s already tearing into the bag, reaching in to grab what Tommy assumes is the aforementioned sandwich, wrapped up in crisp white paper, which he slaps into Eddie’s hands before digging back in, in search of the pickles, most likely.

Tommy just stands there, head spinning, hyper aware of every muscle in his body while Buck piles more paper-wrapped items on top of the sandwich.

“Go away, now,” Buck says, shooing Eddie back away from the door, out into the hallway. “Let Tommy enjoy his apology sandwich in peace.”

“With you in the room? What sort of peace is he gonna get that way?”

“Goodbye.”

Tommy gets a last good look of Eddie’s bemused expression, right before Buck slams the door in his face.

A beat of silence. Then another, as Tommy listens to Eddie’s footsteps drift off down the hallway.

“Hi,” Buck says, and leans in for a kiss.

Tommy catches his jaw before it lands, and tries desperately to calm the swirling thoughts and not get distracted by the gleam in Buck’s eyes, or the subtle roll of his lower lip as it begins to jut out, pre-pout.

“I’m not out,” is the first thing Tommy can think to say, and Buck’s expression softens.

“Okay.”

“That — with Eddie —.”

“Tommy,” Buck says, voice low, the hand not holding the food curling over Tommy’s forearm. Tommy breathes, and wonders if this is how it’s always going to be. First sign of something good, and Tommy’s booking a one way ticket to the other side of the country. “Okay. That’s fine. I haven’t said anything. I - I wouldn’t.”

Tommy shoves his hands into his pockets and aims a glance at the bag. He’s fine. He can bury it. Let this all settle, and figure it out from there.

He should have sent Buck back to his room, last night, the moment he’d said his name.

“I’m — do you — should I go?”

You seem to do fine with relationships, right up until they feel real to you, Harold had told him, eight months in, after Tommy admitted he preferred it when Harold was a bit of an asshole getting his point across. Lets explore that.

Buck, who’d just spent two weeks quietly seething that his best friend was taking up all of Tommy’s time, looks back at Tommy with nothing but vague concern in his eyes, and Tommy spends a long, long moment reminding himself that he’d spent a good fucking year working his way up to admitting that he’d internalized a lifetime of keeping his feelings to himself and wrapped that up in a romanticized little bow he first time he’d watched Andrew Lincoln scramble to stop Keira Knightley from seeing her wedding film.

It’s self-preservation, he’d quoted to Harold, while Harold jotted something down in his notebook. Tommy liked to think he just kept a running list of all the stupid movie quotes he heard in their sessions.

“I don’t want you to go, Evan,” Tommy admits, and for once in his fucking life just lets himself enjoy the wide smile that brims across Buck’s face a moment before he leans in to press his lips to Tommy’s.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

once again dropping this bomb on @toffeebrew

previously on high school au z...

"nightmare..." one person of the trio breathes out

"hello dream," nightmare greets back with a malicious smile.

"oh hi, night-kun!" ink, the resident artist who is on track to study aboard, waves with a beaming face, while blue facepalms next to him.

"ink, he's our enemy. remember?" the other member of the disciplinary committee says in a resigned tone.

"oh right!" ink exclaims, then makes a heroic pose. "nightmare, what are you doing here?"

"i had a feeling you buffoons will try to break into killer's house, so here i am, preventing you from doing so."

"what do you want to do with color-san?" dream, the head of the disciplinary committee, asks.

"my plan stays the same, dear otouto. with his innate powers, i can rid the world of you and control it," nightmare declares with a chuckle.

"not if i have any say in this!" dream exclaims. he pulls a device out of his bag and a light engulfs the surrounding area. when it dies down, it reveals dream, blue, and ink in different color-coordinated outfits and cutesy-looking weapons: dream with a bow-covered bow and arrows, blue with a hobbyhorse hammer, and ink with an oversized brush. they are the secret magical squad, the heroes of the town, the star sanses!

nightmare drops his schoolbag and also transforms. a pool of black goop covers his body from the feet up, and his eye turns from purple to turquoise. his back sprouts tentacles like writhing tapeworms.

"you're gonna die today, starlights..." nightmare grins, and summons his shadowy servant figures to attack.

the star sanses attack back with their magical powers and weapons, the onslaught of minions do not deter them any slightest as they are used to this. after a while, when the empty streets are near destroyed, ink's phone rings.

"uh, wait guys!" ink calls out while batting a minion away then creating a shield so they can duck and read the messages on their phone. "i got a call from dad-1!"

(a/n: everyone is fatherless except for ink and color)

"hurry up then!" blue shouts back, in the middle of a ten-on-one battle himself.

ink shouts back again, "i think i have to go now! i have a cram school session that i can't miss again! or chichi will get real disappointed!" to nightmare he says, "can we have a rain-check on this, night-kun?"

nightmare thinks for a moment before recalling his shadow minions. with a haughty voice, he says, "very well. for ink's scholarship, i will stop here today. but we will continue this this weekend."

with that, he slowly disappears into a black pool in the ground. dream shouts after him, "onii-san, wait!" but too late, nightmare has blipped away, leaving the star trio behind on the destroyed streets.

"uh..." blue says after a somber silence, "so are we still breaking into killer-kun's apartment or...?"

"you guys can do that," ink says. "i have to go to cram school now."

"me and blue-kun can do that. thanks, ink-chan," dream replies with a tired smile on his face, no doubt troubled by his brother's homicidal tendencies again for the ninth time this week.

"no problem!" with that, ink runs away as quick as possible. dream and blue look at each other, then at the building where they will commit their first illegal act together.

meanwhile... at the cooking baking contest (i hope you guys don't forget about this)

"fufu, actually," vamp giggles from her panel, "there will be a fourth judge with us today."

dust and cross look at each other, with both their plates of cookies presented to the judges.

did you rig this with a fourth judge, cross scowls at dust silently.

no, you're the one who did this, dust scowls back, equally silent.

well, even with the fourth judge, you cannot get out of this one, cross sticks his tongue out mockingly.

just you wait, you snotty brat, dust burns a hole in cross with his intense glare.

the mysterious fourth judge comes in, and everyone gasps.

it's epic-senpai himself!

"hi there, bruh!" epic says. "i heard there are free cookies!"

"what," delta utters from the sidelines, absolutely done with this. "is this why you haven't responded to my texts the entire time, epic?!"

mortified, dust whips his head to where killer is in the audience and makes the sign frantically. killer, upon seeing the sign, sends a text to his secret agent standing just near the fire alarm.

emergency time :3, he sends.

seconds later, the fire alarm rings, much to shock and fear of the students in the room.

"what?!" "where's the fire?!" "everyone calm down!"

the sprinklers activate and spray water everywhere. suddenly, multiple hisses and booms occur around the room, freaking everyone else more. everyone runs out of the room, fearing for the lives as the small fireworks occur. killer grins to himself, even as horror suddenly grabs him and whispers aggressively.

"what the fuck, killer?!!" horror darts his eye to delta, who is escorting everyone out, then back at killer. "did you seriously put potassium in the fucking flour?! are you crazy?!"

"it's dust-chan's idea," killer shoots back.

"oh my stars, you guys are insane..." horror bemoans. "i don't know why i even hang out with you..."

"aww, horror-chan~" killer pats horror on his head. "don't worry, next time you can do the terrorizing instead."

[swaglet]

i keep getting texts to my literal own personal phone from random spam numbers about kamala harris being a "border czar" and allowing illegal immigrants across the border and like. im gonna be real right now. as an american citizen why is that something i should give a fuck about? why in the world is that something that anyone cares about? i don't understand what the issue is. if somebody wants to come across the border into my country then by all means i will be waving at them and welcoming them in. idgaf where they're from. i don't understand what the issue is if people want to come into the country from another country and i don't care if they do it "legally" or not. what is the possible issue here.

is it the fact that they can go undocumented and unreported? if that's the case then let me be honest with you, that does not hurt you as an american in the slightest. if they are undocumented and unreported then they are not protected at all by any immigration agencies, nor by our government, and they can be paid pennies for whatever work they do and they aren't guaranteed healthcare or a home or rights or childcare like we are. literally u benefit from undocumented illegal immigrants.

is it the fact that they don't pay taxes? let me be real with you. neither do the people that run this country. neither do the people you idolize and look up to. they would be in jail for fraud and embezzlement if they weren't in a position of power running the world. so be honest with me rn it is NOT the fact that they don't pay taxes.

like. what is the issue. sorry if this is out of the blue i just keep blocking the numbers but the texts will not stop and IDGAF IF PEOPLE COME INTO THE USA ILLEGALLY IDGAF IDGAF LET THEM IN. Give them full ride scholarships to expensive colleges give them big fancy jobs give them free ass houses i literally dgaf why do people hate immigrants

[ko-fanatic]

FANFIC MASTERPOST

HETALIA

Oh My Savage Empire (How Lucky We Are)

Wales throughout the millennia learns one thing: He is beautiful. Over, and over, and over again. It starts with Rome, and gets volleyed from country to country until it all fizzles out once again. He just wants peace. Part one

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Perfection

Touya is a ballerino in training at one of the country’s most prestigious schools. Keigo is a hockey player and scholarship student who’s somehow managed to barge into Touya’s life and make him care about him. But that’s fine, they’re good for each other, always pushing to improve their grades and get better at their sports. They just have to analyse a novel that Touya can’t actually stand, but that’s fine. Touya Todoroki is his own person, after all, not some character to be analysed. Part one Part two

DANGANRONPA

Are You Going To Destroy It?

Ishimaru is supposed to be perfect. He gets perfect grades, enforces the rules as hall monitor, and then goes home to care for his ailing grandfather while his father works long hours to support the three of them. But the simple fact is he’s not perfect, and everything is unravelling his mental state more and more. Being forced to care for the man who ruined his life isn’t helping. Part one

Blood, Guts And Chocolate Cake

Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Bodyguard, is entering a four year contract with one Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Idol. It makes sense, two Ultimates put together for their high school careers, and he could use the steady pay check to send home to Daiya; those medical bills were a bitch, and it was his fault the accident happened in the first place. It was supposed to be easy, guard the cutesy, clean-cut idol from perverts and stalkers, no big deal! However, the world’s perception of Kiyotaka Ishimaru was far different than what the young idol had become. During the first few months before even stepping into Hope’s Peak, he’s more worried for the young boy than he’s ever been for anyone before. Part one Part two Part three

Ouran High School Host Club

A Lilac Rose

Kyo should have expected that her coming out as a trans girl would lead to her friends dragging her on a shopping trip to get new clothes. It was the kind of excitable chaos that was perfectly on-brand for the host club! Still, it’d help if her boyfriend wasn’t actively egging some members on, but that was Kaoru Hitachiin for you. Part one

A Young Ootori’s Notebook

A Young Doctor’s Notebook AU “There’s more than enough to convict you, you know…” Haruhi began, a solemn, regretful look on her face. “That book is decades old,” He waved away, a dry laugh in his voice, “It’s rather sad, if you ask me. The only evidence they’ve collected is a few prescription slips and an old notebook of a dewy eyed, bushy tailed student…“ Part one Part two Part three Part four

Apathetic Consumption

“It’s odd, Tamaki thinks, to be hungry but not wanting to eat.” Tamaki has a bad habit of restricting his meals when things get unduly stressful. Like his life in general, for instance; things can never be easy for him, can they? Part one

Are You Sure This Isn’t The Black Magic Club?

There was always something strange about the host club. Haruhi thinks that learning her friendship group is made up of a werewolf, a witch who can turn himself into a cat, two faeries, a Kitsune and a Brownie/Boggart should be top of the list of weird things in her life. … Honestly, at this point, it barely breaches the top ten… Part one Part two Part three

Atone 

Self-punishment, Mori finds, is the best form of atonement. One-shot

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Depressingly Surreal series: Part one | Forced Feeding Part two | Forced to Beg Part three | Attempted Rape Part four | Amputation Part five | Dragging Themselves Along The Ground One-shots: Hidden Scar

Blue Blood Tastes The Same

Tokyo Ghoul AU The smell of “Commoner’s” coffee and blood hung in the air, and Haruhi considered her position. She’d never really considered herself as weak before, but now… She was like prey. One day, Tamaki would decide to eat her, and there was nothing she could do about it… Right? Honestly, she doesn’t know why he doesn’t just get it over with… Part one Part two Part three Part four Horrifying Martyrdom (connected one-shot)

Busy Hands series 

He has to keep writing, in black ink on white paper. He has to keep his hands busy. Kyoya’s OCD tics are acting up, worse than they’ve been for years, but if everyone could just get off his back, then he could just ride it out and get back to status quo.  … Yeah, that’s not happening.  Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five

Colours series

You wake up, the colour fades, and it’s all back to grey. Like it was. History repeats itself, you suppose. Kyoya deals (or, more accurately doesn’t deal) with his depression. Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight

Life is a Cabaret

Cabaret AU “There was a cabaret, and there was a master of ceremonies, and there was a city called Berlin in a country called Germany… and it was the end of the world. I was dancing with Kyoya Ootori, and we were both fast asleep…” - Kaoru Kelly-Hitachiin, 1931 Part one

Paint on the Wall

Tumblr artist AU Paint away the pain. He’ll draw himself suffering so that he doesn’t inflict it on himself in real life. He’ll rip his guts out on the page so he won’t really split himself open with the kitchen knife. That didn’t really work out though… Did it? Part one Part two Part three

Please Eat, Kyoya

Pretty An Ootori is supposed to be controlled, but Kyoya liked the thrill of the unpredictable, the uncontrollable. This gave him a taste of both, and a host had to be pretty, right? Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Sickly Because these things come to a head, eventually. You can only hurt yourself for so long before something breaks - but a phoenix rises from the ashes… Right? Part one Part two

Rotten Palaces

Crimson Peak AU Kyoya Ootori, throughout his life, knew one thing for definite: Ghosts were real. Part one Part two

To Be A Princess

Princess Jellyfish AU “Tokyo seemed to be a land full of princesses. Every time he entered some new street, beautiful girls wore their own princess dresses, smiling and radiant with joy. It was inspiring, intoxicating, and he… was jealous. Sure, boys could be princes, but… It wasn’t the same. Princes weren’t the ones who caught eyes with pearls, diamonds and the tulle that would float and glide as if enchanted…” Kyoya finally meets the prince to their princess. Part one Part two

[long-manic-nights]

October 3rd: Webcam

Nebumibu

Everything Reo does is beautiful and well-planned. Front the way he shoots three-pointers to the precision he has while putting on eyelines in moving cars; everything has a method, a ritual to follow, an excessive amount of care Nebuya can’t help but to admire. Even knowing how much effort his boyfriend puts in everything, he didn’t expect what he saw the moment he answered the videocall that night:

The image of an angel, he would say. A living mythological creature with the most wonderful eyes and charming little smile. Low, warm light around him, the absolute softness of it all falling on the bed like a wave; there, sitting on the edge, looking back at him from what it seemed to be a very planned setting, was his boyfriend, wearing a short tight dress and pale blue knee socks. In private, Reo loves making a big show out of himself, and Eikichi simply can’t take his eyes off him.

Reo, spreading his legs little by little, passed his slender fingers softly between his thighs, arching his back; the dress sliding up showing everything yet never enough. White, silky skin right there for him to see but too far for him to discover and conquer like he always did. Sweet, tempting voice, echoing on his headphones, whispering his name.

“I miss you”, the shooter moaned, placing himself better so his boyfriend could see his entire body. “I miss you so, so much��.

“I miss you too, angel”, he answered back. “God, I miss you. You look beautiful”.

“Mmmh, really?”, he wasn’t wearing underwear, he realized once the dress rolled up his hip. Talented hands around his own cock, stroking it slowly.

“Yeah, baby. So fucking beautiful. Can you put the camara a little closer for me?”, and he must have sounded desperate, because Reo laughed, amused, passing one hand from his thigh all the way to his chest. “Come on, princess. Let me take a better look”.

“I always give you an excellent look”, the shooter giggled again, getting closer to the camara, legs open again showing everything but not enough, never fucking enough. If he can’t touch him, it’s not enough. “I always put a good show for you, don’t I?”

“Yeah, princess”, he murmured, his hand travelled by itself under his joggers, grabbing his cock. No one in the world make him get hard that fast. “You always do”.

Hayaizu

It was a mistake, really. He was meant to call a dude from Tokyo he has been talking to for a while now, and he pressed the wrong name, too horny to even noticed he did until Izuki’s confused eyes fell on him.

He’s naked, hand already jerking his half hard cock, and his cheeks are burning with shame.

“I’m so fucking sorry”, Kotarou finds himself yelling, throwing the phone down, letting the camara point at the ceiling of his bedroom. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m not a creep, I swear. I dial the wrong number”, he explains, nervously, grabbing the phone again. “Like…I was kinda too horny to notice, but it was an accident”.

Izuki’s blushing, in complete silence, with his eyes wide open and biting his fingernail, having no idea of what to say. Because Hayama Kotarou is hot as fuck and looks even better with his hand around his cock and his pretty, turn-on expression. He can hear it rambling about how it was a mistake and this random dude he met god knows where, and he can’t care less about who the guy is or how hot he looked with his skateboard; the only thing in his head is that he’s dying to suck Kotarou off or bite his lips while he jerks off.

He has no idea when he decided it was a great idea to take off his shirt too and give the enemy a half flirty smile.

“I don’t mind”, he offers.

“Oh”, Hayama exclaims, and puts the phone in a better angle. “Me neither”.

Kagakuro

Kagami being away is a big hit on Kuroko. A destroying one. Dating him was a new thing when the scholarship arrived on his light’s life, and he has never been one to interfere with other people’s dreams       ; he’s happy, of course, this is a huge opportunity and a gigantic jump on his career, but he misses him so bad.

He misses him so bad and proves it all the time. They call all the time, text even more, send each other cute cat videos and the Miracles reunion’s photos. Kuroko also videocalls every now and then, with no context, doing exactly what he’s doing now.

“Fuck, Kuroko, I’m at practice”, Kagami’s fighting to keep his breathing on a normal rhythm, and to convince himself that he can hang up without breaking into tears for losing the opportunity of seeing this wonder of a boy bouncing on his new toy. “Don’t do this to me, baby”.

“But…mh…I miss you”, Tetsuya moans in a fake shy tone, riding the toy slowly, up and down. Kagami can’t see his face, but he most certainly can see all the important parts. “…mmh, wanna…ride you”, he manages to say, moving his hips a little faster. “want this…to be you”.

“Like that, baby, a little faster”, Taiga breaks faster than he would like to admit, but no one can blame him for it. “A little harder, show me how you like it”.

“Like this?”, the shadow moans again, bouncing again and again, deeper and harder every time. “Like this?”, he asks again, without noticing. “It feels good…”

“I’m gonna make you feel better when I visit, baby, I promise”.

“I know”.

[leakywright]

{ JONATHAN DAVISS, 21, CISMALE, HE/HIM } Is that MALIK ‘LEAKY’ WRIGHT? A SENIOR originally from CLEVELAND, MS, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES on a ATHLETIC SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE TRUSTY SIDEKICK on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

been traveling these wide roads for so long...

NAME: malik ‘leaky’ andre wright NICKNAME: leaky, leaks, wright BIRTHDAY: october 16, 2002 ZODIAC: libra sun, sagittarius moon, virgo rising SEXUALITY: bisexual RELIGION: practicing christian (baptist) THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: generous, adaptable, playful THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: flaky, scatterbrained, cheap THREE SKILLS: trained mechanic, jazz piano, math ENNEAGRAM: 2w1 MYERS-BRIGGS: istp EXTRACURRICULARS: varsity football team: tight-end. vp of recruitment pike, sports show host for student radio station, undergraduate student council.

AESTHETIC: gold rings, early morning runs, sunsets on the river, front porch sweet-tea, tailgating, kisses from grandma, cheers on top of tables, high fives, cheesy grins for photos, BeReal

CHARACTER INSPO: teddy flood (westworld), peeta mellark (the hunger games), matt seracen (friday night lights), pop tate (riverdale), charlie young (the west wing), sam obisanya (ted lasso), gregory (abbott elementary)

LIKES: making playlist, late night jams, fresh sunday mornings, making people laugh, warm summer sun, the changing of leaves, soft blankets, historical fiction, holidays DISLIKES: the past, winter, unsweetened tea, ripped jeans, cold weather, people talking during movies, doing the dishes

FAVORITE MOVIES/TV: ted lasso, friday night lights, new girl, atlanta, teen wolf, outer banks, nope, knives out, do the right thing, waves, if beale street could talk, abbott elementary FAVORITE BOOKS: the vanishing half, seven days in june, the hunger games, harry potter series, possessing the secret of joy, the fire next time FAVORITE ARTISTS: b.b. king, leon bridges, tank and the bangas, lizzo, zach bryan, lawrence, j. cole, abraham alexander, tierra whack

FAMILY: mother - adelaide wright (naomie harris) father - andre wright (omar sy) younger sister - haven wright (marsai martin) younger brother - amai wright (danny boyd jr)

pinterest here, playlist here

MOMMA’S WORDS REOCCUR TO ME:  

growing up in cleveland mississippi meant that leaky had access to the only grammy museum outside of la. but really it meant that leaky grew up with humble beginnings, in a one story house that was full of love, laughter, and inspiration. andre and adelaide wright had been high school sweethearts, with andre giving up his dreams of being a full-time musician when they found out adelaide was pregnant, to then instead be the town mechanic. she was a nurse, he a mechanic during the days and blues musician at night, and though life was hectic. it was good.

leaky was taught all the necessities by his father, piano, bass, basic mechanic skills. he wanted his son to be well-rounded and thrive in the world. to build him up. and, like every southern town, high school football became the heart of the wright household. and early on they discovered that leaky was talented. he was good, he had promise for the future. and that he had.

so between practices, gardening, picking on his younger siblings, jamming with his father, and everything else in between, leaky looked at the future with hope, with optimism. and it seemed promising.

junior year of high school, leaky committed to alabama for football, full-ride, tight-end. play time wasn’t promised for him as a freshman, but nick saban personally mentioned his name for future championships. and to make everything better, his best friend jackson and girlfriend iona were accepted their senior year. they had plans to make tuscaloosa their home.

SURRENDER TO THE GOOD LORD: (tw death)

his freshman year was exciting, and a bit overwhelming. the golden boy of the town lost his way, getting caught up in the culture of college and partying. jackson, iona, and him were having the time of their life. and sure leaky wasn’t playing as much as he wanted, but it was enough for the time being.

and then tragedy struck, beginning of second semester of his freshman year, the three of them had been out one night, leaky felt he was on top of the world. but soon it fell into darkness, he remembered sliding into the backseat of the car, pressing a sloppy kiss to iona’s neck, and the next thing he was waking up in the hospital receiving the worst news of his life. jackson and iona were dead.

and then things continued downhill, ogden had attempted to recruit leaky as well, and reached out with a new offer. full playing time, full ride, and a fresh start. leaky couldn’t turn it down. it might be kissing his chance of the nfl behind, but he couldn’t turn down the stellar education ogden was offering him.

so after finishing his freshman year, leaky moved to portsmouth, summer training and all, began his life at ogden, this time taking a side role in his life. no longer the big fish in a small pond like his life in mississippi, he found his place easily. but he doesn’t talk about his freshman year, he doesn’t visit home, and though he seems to be a vibrant and stellar young man, he holds his cards close to his chest.

AND HE’LL WIPE YOUR SLATE CLEAN:  

leaky is enjoying ogden, two years in he’s making friends, a star player, doing what he can. and yet there’s a nagging guilt, of not going home when he knows his family misses him, of not visiting iona and jackson’s families, of moving on. but he can’t face it, not yet. maybe one day he’ll be able to return home.

in fact that was the original plan, after his education, to return to cleveland and continue to build up his beloved city. like his father, leaky let’s his passions stay that way, it’s easier to keep the creativity without the pressure of it all. and instead he chose environmental science, something he hopes to be an asset for his community. leaky grew up gardening with his mother, and shares a deep love for the environment, and figures this is the best way to move forward.

GREER:

the two were casual friends. he’d see her at parties, and at school events. it’s hard not to notice the golden girl, especially with how visual leaky is on campus, always involved with an event or being seen in the advertising for the school. they got along fine, having friendships that crossed-over. he never knew her really well, but he respected her enough and enjoyed her presence. whenever she needed help or had a favor, leaky was more than ready to aid a hand. though it never seemed the two got below a surface-level friendship (to those who witnessed them anyway).

THE TRUSTY SIDEKICK:  

you need a wingman? leaky is your guy. he’s charming and pleasant and can talk anyone up. need a favor? leaky is there easily fulfilling it as if it’s nothing to him. the guy is a confidant, a hype-man, a volunteer, he can transform himself into whatever you need and it never seems to bother him. and despite being a gifted football player, and smart guy, and seemingly everywhere on campus, he doesn’t steal the spotlight. he’s not the one you think of when you think of ogden, he lets others take the popularity, the jealous looks, the whispers. despite always being there, you might sometimes overlook him, maybe because he’s always there. but he seems to be a good guy, always offering a kind smile and nod of his head on campus, willing to help tutor you in math, and then lets you have all the glory when you ace the test. it almost seems like leaky is making himself out to be the pedestal that everyone sits on. the support that uplifts the hero, and yet still disappears in the crowd, never seeking glory for himself.

extra:

previous tasks found here

he’s always wearing a jacket because he can’t stand the cold 

he wears a gold chain that was given to him by iona, he never takes it off

junior year recap:

found a note/torn out paper seemingly about greer during the haunted house

got drunk for the first time in years at the new year's party - holds guilt for penny ending up dead

found a bloody glove when looking for firewood

g told him to find penny's file in the dean's office

broke in with link and took a picture of it - haven't told anyone else

g put nova and leaky together before the rave and gave nova hints about leaky

surprisingly didn't sustain any injuries during the fire

logan confronted him afterward about the text she received about him

stayed in town for the summer to work at a farm and garden, left a few times to visit sassa

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

(TW) Homophobia Masterlist

Before It's All Too Much. (ao3) - alxclightwood Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton G, 3k

Summary: "Luke, what's wrong?" he heard, getting quieter as the room began to spin and darkness clouded his vision, his body finally allowing him to succumb to the relief of unconsciousness.

________________________

AKA Luke likes to be dramatic when he's ill.

“You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

'Do You Believe in Miracles?' (ao3) - The_Lady Michael/Luke E, 83k

Summary: Michael Clifford gets things done. When he wants something, he goes after it until he achieves it. With two Frozen Four championships under his belt and a hockey scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, Michael is not used to being beat, but if hockey has taught him anything, it's how to recognize when he's about to get slammed and his public speaking class? That is barring down on him like two-hundred-pound defensemen during a breakaway,, so he may need to swallow his pride.

An opportunity of a lifetime dangles in front of Luke Hemmings – the role of Jack O'Callahan in limited series about hockey's 'Miracle on Ice' – the only problem is that Luke may have exaggerated his own hockey prowess in his initial audition. Now with a callback on the books, he needs to learn to skate and learn fast.

Florecita (ao3) - merlypops Michael/Ashton E, 14k

Summary: Ashton and Michael's love is like the sea - rough at times and calm at others, but always there. Always.

Honeysuckle - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) Luke/Ashton, Ashton/OFC E, 28k

Summary: Ashton realizes fairly soon into touring that remembering names isn’t worth his time.

or, it's the 1970s, Ashton is a homophobic lead singer and Luke is the new gay roadie on tour with his band.

I'll Meet You in the Bathroom (ao3) - 1loulu5 Luke/Calum E, 1k

Summary: “Are you…” he swallowed, Blondie’s eyes watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, “Are you flirting with me?”

A smirk played at the blond’s lips, “And what if I am?”

“Then I’d tell you I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

~~~

Calum and a certain blond have some fun in the bathroom.

(love is like) a baseball game (ao3) - no_clue_who Luke/Ashton M, 10k

Summary: Luke had always loved spring training.

When he was a kid, his parents and brothers would take spring break to go down and watch the first, unofficial, games of the season. He got to meet so many excellent players in his time, star-struck by the short-stops that would wave at him or the catchers who would show off their gloves to the crowd. Luke loved spring training and the fun that came with it.

He especially loved it when he was not even twenty and called up to try out for the Phillies team to get a spot in their rotation, no one thought he would get it, not even him. But only a few months later he had made it to the show after a few too many injuries wore them thin. And the rest is, well, history.

This season was different, new, and exciting. The Mets were coming off of an amazing postseason and an even better off-season. Luke had signed a big deal to stay in the orange and blue for another seven years.

love me like you did (i'll give you anything) (ao3) - retromalum Luke/Ashton T, 1k

Summary: Love is stronger than all evil in the world, and they realize that even if cruel mankind rips them apart eventually, they will find each other again. they will go down together, no matter what.

Someone New (ao3) - Honeyedlashton Luke/Ashton E, 4k

Summary: It’s supposed to be the most rigorous Preparatory School in the Northeast, so why does Ashton get away with practically everything? Well, except for the one thing he doesn’t want anyone to know about. As a boy who dreads the summers when he has to go home, he takes solace in his friends and a new kid, Luke. But the decisions made in haste will change his life, but does it have to mean forever?

Subject Line - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) Calum/Ashton E, 20k

Summary: Maybe the sunrise doesn’t matter much after all. Calum can watch the sunrise any day. How many days will he get Ashton like this? Shirtless, sporting bedhead in a hotel room, with just the two of them for a few lazy hours alone?

Soon enough, they’ll be back on the tour bus and Calum won’t be allowed to hold Ashton’s hand anymore.

The Worst Things in Life Come Free to Us (ao3) - mukeftlashton Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton E, 54k

Summary: On the outside, Michael looks like a bitter rebel who doesn’t care about the feelings of others. In reality, he’s a kid who had his heart shattered, and he needs help picking up the pieces.

Luke is a fragile teen who lives with his abusive, alcoholic, homophobic father. He has resorted to not speaking, deciding that it isn’t worth his time; no one cares about what he has to say anyways.

Piece by piece, they help each other rebuild the fragments of their shattered hearts, but it doesn’t happen overnight.

this is everything i didn't say - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton T, 6k

Summary: Luke's home life has never been great, with an abusive and homophobic father. Calum is the only good consistent thing in his life, with Calum being Luke's best friend. One day, Calum suggests that Luke meets some new people to hang out with. Luke is hesitant, but then he meets a red head named Michael Clifford, and everything changes.

Unexpected Places (ao3) - The_Lady Michael/Luke T, 2k

Summary: The last thing Michael expects to find when heading home from his morning shift at the bakery is a slumped over Luke Hemmings sporting a black eye and split lip. Yet, there Michael’s school-hood rival is, clear as day, sitting on the concrete and leaning against the alley wall. Well, there goes pizza and DnD.

unmute (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) Luke/Ashton, Luke/OC, Michael/Crystal M, 21k

Summary: In 2011, Luke Hemmings met Ashton Irwin for the first time. In 2020, he told the world they’re married. This is the story of everything that happened in between.

The Off-Screen prequel

wanna share? - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) Calum/Ashton, Michael/Luke T, 10k

Summary: Ashton supposes this is what he gets, though, for allowing the school to drop a random roommate in with him but he still expected to see the guy at least a little during the day

or, the one where Calum and Ashton are college roommates who only see each other at night.

Wordsmith (ao3) - ashtonhours (heartandmindxx) Luke/Ashton T, 4k

Summary: Or: 5 times Ashton’s mouth got them into trouble, and only 4 times he could talk them out of it.

[dj-d]

Realized I haven't posted this here. :'D I LOVE THE CHORUS OF THIS SONG!!! XD XD XD I put in a little surprise in the video. :) Hehehe... Another catchy song.

BRAVE DREAM is the ending theme of the Free! series' third compilation film, Free!-Road to the World- the Dream. It is performed by STYLE FIVE, a group formed by the seiyuu of five main characters. The song is the fifteenth track on the second disc of the movie's soundtrack, Forward Blue Waves, which was released on July 10, 2019. Music for the series is managed by Lantis.

ALL CREDITS GO TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

Credits: Free! Wiki Translation: AlbatrossMuffin

#Free! #FreeDivetotheFuture #HarukaNanase #MakotoTachibana #RinMatsuoka #NagisaHazuki #ReiRyugazaki

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER:

Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

I don't own the song, what I own is only the editing of this lyric video.

[eclipsecrowned]

rio + THE COVEN.

NOVEMBER, 1983. A girl takes a long walk to clear her head before heading home. A girl makes a running leap to escape whatever is hounding her. A girl waits in her car for a hookup that will never come to pass.

This is what brings the lives of Rio, Jane, and Sophie together in the midst of a graveyard. Three girls from wildly different backgrounds and with wildly different temperaments, traumabonding is a hell of a drug. They go from strangers to fairweather allies to fire forged friends, though not without roadbumps.

Dubbed 'The Coven' by locals based on the inclusion of the town goth, they try to solve mysteries around H*wkins with their limited/non main character connections and intuition. Rio might be the brains, but Sophie is the negotiator, and Jane is not afraid to be the muscle.

SOPHIA GLORIA 'SOPHIE' MORGAN / 1968.

Rich girl with a reputation to her name. Rough home life in spite of privilege made her exceptionally tough and standoffish towards her peers, though with a still 'weak' center of sentiment and goodwill. The 'good time girl' who acts out for both peer approval and attention from adults that she lacks at home.

Father is a wealthy businessman and a tyrannical patriarch to his children, mother is an alleged stay at home mom and real life no-longer-functional alcoholic. Sophie is the middle child of five and the oldest child still at home, often taking care of her younger brother and sister. Lives relative to the Harringt0ns and Cunninghams.

The getaway driver, the charisma build, the one the girls want on hand when they need to bullshit. Excels at it, in fact. Smart but much more socially adept than the 'brilliant but rizzless' Rio so she takes the 'face' role of the Coven without complaint.

Wants out of H*wkins bad. Pursues music as her future career and is hoping to get an art school scholarship to New York after graduation and never look back.

Cosmopolitan middle child vs outsider only child means she and Jane are designated enemies who only get along for the sake of 'The Kid.' Elder Sister Energy means she would fight the entire HHS student body including the sports teams if it means keeping Rio safe.

Retooled from a past historical oc fora 80s fandom setting :3

JANET MARIE 'JANE' SMITH / 1968.

Might have been a middle class, middle of the road small town American girl, down to a literal Plain Jane kind of name. But she was drawn in by New Wave and Goth Rock, and decided instead to play life on hard mode as H*wkin's First Goth. Does not give a fuck, will hurt feelings, but bold and maturing fast.

Father is a military vet turned cop under Hop, mom runs the local salon. Both are transplants to H*wkins, her mom having a noticeable Joisey accent. An only child for better and worse. Her vivacious mom's entire world, but has a little too much in common with her stoic father as a person and too wide a gulf in beliefs to see eye to eye at this stage. Family knows the By*rs, but much more cringe: Jane has an all-consuming budding sexuality crisis crush on Eddie.

The lockpick, the one who throws the first punch, the shield between the smaller Sophie and Rio and the big bad world. Slowly builds on this foundation moving forward from S1 and is the willing muscle to the more specialized skills of her new friends.

Wants out of H*wkins just as bad as Sophie and Rio. Doesn't have much of an exit strategy, though. Is good at sewing and makeup, but doesn't see how that translates to 'getting the fuck out of Indiana.'

Can acknowledge that Sophie is rebelling against her culture and standards in a similar but distinct way from herself, but will still roast the rich girl within an inch of her life. Is incredibly awkward but tender with Rio, who she can't help but like despite being too concerned about performance and what other people think.

Will one day be lucky enough to obtain an FC <3 So far all I have is 'goth girl' and 'creepy blue eyes.'

MAUREEN ELIZABETH 'RIO' MUNS0N. / 1968.

The goworl :) White trash trailer skank to much of the world, but a precious Chihuahua-coded teen and straight-A student to those who get to know her.

Dad in jail, mom dead, uncle is legal guardian and only dad she'd care to acknowledge as such, has been trying to look out for her older brother ever since their dad started skipping out on them as kids. Doesn't really have many ties beyond that, being guilty by family association on the measure of 'nicer' folks in town and struggling to join social dynamics due to anxiety.

The brains! She will whip up war crimes fresh from the lab to hit the Upside D0wn where it hurts or logic out meanings and passwords based on patterns or obscure references.

Say it with me: Wants out of H*wkins. Plans to head South with her brother first, visit their mom's hometown in Memphis, but then wants to go to a good school, be someone. Be a clean, upright, moral person with opportunity and a respectable academic job...

Just happy to be included in Sophie and Jane's lives tbh. She's never had friends before. Kids laugh at her and have since she was 5, she'd literally walk into Hell for either of them as willingly as she would for her brother. Sophie and Jane are trying to convince her that while her loyalty is noble it shouldn't be at potential personal risk --

Genuinely just here for a laugh <3

[30minutesescapes]

Soothing waves on a Magical Beach Screensaver for Smart TV 4k

Soothing waves on a Magical Beach Screensaver for Smart TV 4k https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYiVo51_1us Immerse yourself in the ultimate 4K screensaver experience as you stand on the shore, enchanted by the sight of rolling waves and the warmth of the sun. This stunning video captures the essence of a perfect day at the beach, complete with the soothing sounds of the ocean, making it the ideal screensaver for your 4K smart TV. Let the waves wash away the autumn blues, transporting you to a magical seaside retreat. Close your eyes, breathe in the fresh sea air, and let the beach magic take you on a blissful journey—all in the glorious detail of 4K resolution. ✅ Subscribe to The Channel 30 Minutes Escapes and embark on a visual journey that will redefine your perception of the beauty and vastness of nature: https://www.youtube.com/@30minutesescapes ✅ Stay Connected With Us. 👉 Instagram: https://ift.tt/LotmyaQ 👉 Facebook: https://ift.tt/nhPp920 ✅ For Business Inquiries: acerbiluca@gmail.com ============================= ✅ Recommended Playlists: 👉 Zen Water Streams: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D22yaqHO2-0&list=PL90H8GB4rswdkUcVdVv9O9TXfhs6UO_Uw&pp=iAQB 👉 HD & 4K Nature Escapes: Short & Serene Journeys into Earth's Majestic Landscapes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAyVWxKpY7U&list=PL90H8GB4rswcAAJzrFGlITjKhujUtOViv&pp=iAQB ✅ Other Videos You Might Be Interested In Watching: 👉 4K Nature Escapes: Tranquil Cascades & Pristine Pool – An Hour-long Stillness Journey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BKXZ4irC34 👉 4K Nature Escapes: 30 Minutes with Seagulls – A Sardinian Marine Symphony https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiF04v0bscg 👉 4K Serenity Escapes: 30 Minutes of Sunrise - Dawn from the Rocks to the Sky https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wo5-junJCv4 👉 4K Alpine Streams: 30 Minutes by the Crystal Mountain Brook - Serenity in the Alps https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQrLiTO5MtE&t=139s ============================= ✅ About 30 Minutes Escapes. Transform your TV into a window on relaxing landscapes! Each video has been meticulously crafted to offer an open window into these magical places, creating an unforgettable visual journey. Our promise is that these unique landscapes will forever linger in your memory, inspiring and nurturing your quest for tranquility and wonder. Subscribe to our channel for regular updates, ensuring a wide array of virtual windows to inspire and relax you. Welcome to a world of extraordinary resolution, a visual experience that will redefine your perception of the beauty and vastness of nature. For Collaboration and Business inquiries, please use the contact information below: 📩 Email: acerbiluca@gmail.com 🔔 Subscribe to The Channel 30 Minutes Escapes and embark on a visual journey that will redefine your perception of the beauty and vastness of nature: https://www.youtube.com/@30minutesescapes ================================= ADD HASHTAG HERE Disclaimer: We do not accept any liability for any loss or damage which is incurred by you acting or not acting as a result of listening to any of our publications. For all videos on my channel: This information is for general & educational purposes only. Always consult with an attorney, CPA, or financial professional for advice based on your specific situation. Copyright Disclaimer: Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational, or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use © 30 Minutes Escapes. via 30 Minutes Escapes https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1o5wbI7ZwIE1UodByxqXEw November 24, 2023 at 08:23PM

[benefits1986]

The Inner Child Chronicles

Weekends are meant for free play in this adult adulterated world, yes?

Another heated maroons and cool-warm blue live game came this Sunday. Was supposed to pen this right after coming home around midnight because... however, I'd like to write it out during early mornings for the vibe and for the heck of it.

I also had debriefs and talked to some people and managed to squeeze in three hours of sleep. What I am realizing is that I'm watching games live because my inner child is finally coming of age. Gone are the days when I would hole up myself over each game I like to watch live but not do so because I don't feel like I earned that spot in Araneta or SM Arena. It's not just about the school spirit and wearing your school color and school pride. It's way bigger than that. All my life, there's no other school I'd like to be part of except UP Diliman or Ateneo. Syempre, doon tayo sa mas mura at makatotohanang choice 'di ba? If you ask me why... eto lang. Sobrang simple na walang need na logical explanation. Diliman because of Ikot. Ateneo because of Patty x Atom + Bianca Gonzalez in Candy and Seventeen PH, and seeing weird OOTDs na puwede sa campus. Diliman because I wanted to take up economics and eventually, try my luck in being a lawyer. Ateneo because I know comm courses are actually worthwhile, as in buttery vibes all over. Diliman's chapel is also a legit vibe. As in parang puwede na akong ikasal doon levels basta -ber months para iwas-hulas. CHZ. Diliman because alam ko mahirap makapasok, lalo na makalabas pero sanay naman akong gumapang sa lusak since birth. Same for Ateneo, could have gone for scholarship kaso sabi ng nanay ko, hindi naman kakayanin 'yung allowance at layo; which make some sense naman din.

'Di ba? Ang babaw. Pero that's how I roll talaga e.

So, every game I watch is me talking to my inner child. Kahit one big binat may be waving right now. Sana 'wag naman. Sana ipanalo ko na 'tong virus na 'to kasi 'di rin siya birong itawid. Nag-OD naman na ako ulit ng supplements, kaya sana tapos na. I really can not afford this fog brain for the race to the finish this Q4. So help me, universe!

Our spot yesterday is probably the most interesting spot to date. Hayaan mo ng hindi patron seats because fucking scalpers are milking the shit out of this game. UGH. Wala pa tayo sa exciting part, sky-high prices na talaga?

Which brings to a funny convo I had before the game started. I called P and asked if nasa area ba siya. I have 1 ticket to spare kasi. LOL. Nag-joke na: Wow! Nanood talaga siya ng live ngayon. Araneta pa. Effort. Me: Wala kasi school ko and wala ring pambili ng tickets noon e. Happy? Bumawi naman siya saying na happy siya legit for me and nood kami live sa bakbakan ng Archers and Maroons. Sabi ko, pagiisipan ko. LOLOLLOL. Che. Pero maganda rin laro ng Archers kahit green na 'di ko trip sila.

Also, blue second dad and maroon kiddo me had a short but ugh debrief. Talon daw ang blues. Akala ko typo, hindi pala. And that swerte lang daw maroons this game kaya next time daw ulit. Syempre, hinding-hindi tayo natatakot kahit kanino so sabi ko: Sabi mo e. Next time it is. Hehe. I don't use "hehe" unless provoked and in the mood of sarcasm. We've been talking the past days and gosh, andaming ganaps. We're sooooo excited.

Honestly, the concept of the inner child scared me, initially. Kasi saks lang naman childhood ko. Hindi naman siya super traumatic and generally, happy naman siya. However, the inner child is a way to connect the dots backwards. Steve Jobs. Pasowkkkk. Going back to our seats for last Sunday's game. Of course, Ateneo side na right beside UP. LOLOLLOLL. 'Yun palang panalo na e. I love being on thin ice. CHZ. Hahahahaha. We were seated beside a boomer dad and his college apo or kid. Both are towering AF. In front of us is a big family of maroons and blues. Mom is an IG mom. I guess dad has work or is an expat. Grade school to college age range. Kaya ang lala ng bangayan. As in. The mom would take videos of each "one for the books" reactions. I think mom is from Ateneo. She wore a striped dress but super giddy niya when the blues shoot that ball and get that ball. Andami niyang kiddos and the interactions are worth the layo and the binat, all the more.

I came with a mindset na: Okay. I need to stay in Manila para magpagaling ng tuluyan; so sige, eto na muna. Have a little fun in Manila muna bago mag hibernate. Okay. Sana naman akong matalo so tataya ako doon sa dark horse.

Yes, the 8-1 standing is something; but to me, it's not just about the numbers. The games are gapang sa lusak games and the plays could have been better to be honest. Ako lang 'to a. Ako lang. Siguro kasi, bias ko sila so mas critical ako sa galaw nila or the lack of thereof. As an example, wala masyadong get-back 'pag may mintis. UGH. True talaga na height is but a convenience. Sana mas masipag and mas focused. Maraming butas. Maraming tiny tweaks na kaya at realistic gawain. In the same manner, oks naman maging maliksi pero naman, alamin mo kung kelan mo ipapasa ang bola kesa mala-agawang buko mo ibira. Please lang. Sana Enya PL nila saka 741Hz para medyo mas tumatagos ang bawat intention. :D Aywawww. Apply mo yan, girl sa buhay mo a. Ayusin mo talaga. LOLOLL.

The real reason why I postponed this thought fart is because of this inner child dogshow. Let it be known here in my tiny space that I know why this had to take a long while. SHEMAY. Eto na po. My soul sister always eggs me and irks me that she saw how I shifted from the blah girl to a bitch-you-can girl when I left nursing. I felt like she was just patronizing me which I fucking hate. 'Yung feeling ko na okay, I "failed" at nursing because I can't care for mom and be a care professional 24/7. But, she keeps at it until the past days. Lagi niya talagang masasabi 'yan with feelings. Last night, I realized that my dark blue meets maroon heart is probably the best heart I can have (and give. shet.) in my 37 years of shit-xistence. Perhaps, it's the universe telling me that I needed to tame my jagged and apologetic edges in Leon Guinto before riding countless Ikot and Toki jeeps dahil may laban na ako para ilaban ang gusto ko. Most importantly, mom truly, madly and deeply believed that I'd go all out and max out in Diliman. As in wild kung wild. Looking back, the chances of this happening is not 100%... 10000000000% to the nth power. I'm not talking about the wild na good ha. Wild na panira ng moral compass levels most likely. 'Yung tawag ni mom doon: parang nakawala sa coral. HAHAHAHAHA. Very apt. Very graphic. It's fantastic.

Last night, I saw an Ateneo LS jacket waving proudly at me. HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU. Syempre, sabi ko kay second dad, oks na ako dito and that AI is the way, the highway and the skyway to hell for this chapter. Pero, para lang matahimik siya. Hindi pa rin ako sumusuko BUT now, I'd like to proceed with intention and caution. Hindi kasi ito basta-basta unlike other career paths and shifts. Ang KPI dito buhay, dignidad at kinabukasan ng bawat kaso na mapapanalo at matatalo mo. HUY. In a world where truth is relative and where a chair cannot be and can be a chair, ergo, fuck yourself hard... LOL... hindi siya biro. For someone na gustong nanalo because I love the sheer joy it brings and hindi rin takot matalo, na moody shitball, na oddball, should I proceed, your honor, chz... dapat buo ako. Hindi puwedeng half-baked lang. And hindi pa doon natatapos ang lahat. Dahil nga ang totoo ay pwedeng kathang-isip lamang lalo na kung alam mo ang galawang Kotler - 4Ps at iba pa, hindi ba? HAHAHAHHA. Evil laugh.

So, yes po. This is indeed my inner child eras tour. Speaking of Taylor, I'd give her another go... baka naman. Just a curious anti-social experiment. As I said, Reputation is a really good one. Hamunang white supremacy shitshow pa rin siya. And sobrang unfair sa fans sa PH na wala siya PERO I think, she will have a biglaang PH concert sa gitna ng kawalan sa Pinas. Para mas pasavogue and trending. LOL. Malasimbo 5.0. Huy. Cultural exploitation na naman po tayo niyan. LELS.