#chip carson

[best-character-named-x-poll]

have you done your daily click

[wolfisblank]

Son boy allowed

[jezebelblues]

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 | 𝐇.𝐒 | 𝟏 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚��𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

pt 1, pt 2 (completed)

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡��𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐖: drug usage/selling, angst, college!harry, fem!reader, smut in pt2 if that’s what ur here for, allusions to violence, friends to lovers if u squint

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 13.8k

❏ i was trying to compress this into only being one part but i felt like each piece of them growing closer was too important to the plot to be deleted </3 but i’m posting pt 2 like right after this so !! btw this is so fratrry coded but bro is not in a frat. he’s just a broke college student that sells drugs fr

masterlist

off campus housing was a curse sometimes.

but, if you had the option between dorming it out or paying for an apartment yourself, maybe it could be categorized as both a blessing and a curse.

but for YN and harry, it’s just a curse.

a dorm wasn’t in the cards for them in general—it was hard enough drowning in loans for tuition itself, and adding thousands more for shitty campus housing was just overboard.

but still, the illusion of choice would’ve been nice.

they lived in carson hall, off campus apartments that were filled to the brim with students. there might’ve been a few tenants in the building that weren’t a student, but they were probably there for the same reason as everyone else—affordability.

$850 per month felt like a rarity, and it was pretty much unheard of in new york. so, if you were a broke student that couldn’t dorm, this was your saving grace.

if the walls in the unit weren’t brick, it was cheap drywall that had the paint chipping off. there was a radiator that broke every month like clockwork, sat right underneath a window with glass so thin it shook with the breeze.

there was no carpet except for in the main lobby, everything else was either tiled linoleum and creaky wooden floors installed in the 90’s. there was a communal laundry unit in the basement that required four quarters exactly, nothing else. sometimes it’d swallow the coins, sometimes it wouldn’t, and sometimes it’d eat their coins and wouldn’t turn on at all.

there was a maintenance man that lived on the first floor—living there for half the rent since he was on call 24/7 on the weekdays to fix anything the apartment complex needed—but you’d have to be the luckiest person on earth for him to respond. if the washer ate your quarters, chances are, you won’t be getting them back. and if the sink continued to drip water in rhythm with your heartbeat, you’d be better off watching a youtube tutorial on plumbing basics than calling for the maintenance guy.

but, it was four walls and a roof—not to mention, it was only a five minute walk from the dining hall (the heart of campus, obviously).

YN and harry didn’t know each other, not exactly. they lived on the same floor, and harry was the guy that was known for dealing to make rent and loan payments.

and YN was the girl that always had sleepy eyes and smelt of vanilla and cinnamon—sugar and spice.

but that was it between them, fleeting glances of acknowledgment and the lingering scent of vanilla laced with weed in the hallway.

all until the first knock tapped against his door at one-thirty in the morning.

it was one of those nights where the due dates of assignments pressed down heavy, like it was daring you to breathe under the weight.

harry’s radiator was hissing again, spitting steam into his tiny apartment, a kind of mocking applause for everything breaking down. his desk was cluttered with blueprints—half-sketched, smudged, unfinished—and on the counter, the last edible he'd cut sat wrapped in foil, waiting for whoever was desperate enough to buy it.

the knock was soft. hesitant. not the kind of knock that screamed cops or where's the party? harry almost didn't get up. whatever it was, it could wait.

but something about it—how it lingered, quiet but insistent—dragged him to the door. barefoot, wearing nothing but a ratty tshirt and sweatpants, he swung it open without bothering to check who it was.

YN.

the girl who always smelled like a fucking christmas cookie. she stood in the hallway like she'd been arguing with herself for hours, her arms wrapped around her torso to keep warm. she didn't say anything right away, just looked at him with wide, tired eyes.

harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "are y’lost?"

her voice came out softer than he expected. “i need…something.”

he raised an eyebrow, scanning her quickly—her pink sweatpants, the hoodie that was two sizes too big, the way she kept glancing at the floor like she hated being here. "that's specific. milk? a lightbulb? help moving a body?"

"for my roommate," she rushed, ignoring the bite in his tone. "she's—she's having a panic attack or something, some stupid argument with her boyfriend i think—and i don't have anything that can help."

harry stared at her.

her voice cracked, the desperation cutting through the cool front she was trying to hold. "it's late, and the pharmacies are closed, and i just—someone said you might have something."

"someone.” he repeated, pushing off the doorframe, his tone sharp enough to slice through her composure.

"please."

something about that word caught him off guard. not the word itself, but the way she said it—like she was embarrassed to use it, like it physically hurt to ask him for anything. harry sighed, stepping back. "wait there."

he crossed the room to the counter, digging through the shoebox that held the operation he kept as low-key as possible. the old baggie of edibles rustled faintly in his hands, and for a second, he thought about saying no. this wasn't his problem.

but he grabbed one anyway, turning back to find her still standing in the hallway, arms wrapped tighter around herself. he shoved the baggie into her hand. "take this and go."

she hesitated, looking down at it. "is it safe?"

harry's laugh came out sharp and humorless. "you knock on my door at one in the morning, asking for something t’fix a panic attack, and you're worried about FDA approval? yeah, it's safe. s’low-dose."

her fingers curled around the bag. "how much do i owe you?"

he shook his head, already tired of this conversation. "don't worry about it. just go."

YN started to turn, but her gaze caught on the cluttered desk in the corner—blueprints stacked in uneven piles, a half-empty coffee cup balancing on the edge. "what's all that?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

"none of your business."

he stepped forward and shut the door before she could ask anything else. the lock clicked, and for a long second, he stood there, staring at the closed door, wondering why the hell he'd helped her at all.

*

friday nights strained. not the kind that made you feel like you’d accomplished something. no, this was the other kind. the kind that made harry want to throw his phone into the east river and spend the rest of the weekend in bed, ignoring the world.

by eight pm, the texts started rolling in like they always did.

can u drop to sigma chi?

emergency. we need molly asap. paying extra if u can get here by 10.

it wasn’t glamorous. it wasn’t even fun. but it paid the rent.

harry sat at his desk, staring at the mess of blueprints he hadn’t touched all week, his phone lighting up next to him with another text. the math was simple: weed, molly, shrooms, lsd. nothing heavy, nothing messy, and no one under twenty-one.

he grabbed his backpack, already packed from the night before—a hollowed-out calculus textbook buried inside. it was beat to shit, but nobody looked twice at a guy carrying around a heavy book and a bookbag on campus.

the first stop was sigma chi. always sigma chi.

by the time he got there, the party was in full swing. the air reeked of spilled beer and too much cologne, bass pounding through the walls like a heartbeat that refused to die. harry slipped in through the side door, past a crowd of girls laughing too loudly and holding plastic cups like they were accessories.

the guy waiting for him was leaned against the fridge, his baseball cap turned backwards, a grin plastered on his face. “harry, my man!”

he didn’t answer. didn’t smile. instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small baggie, handing it over like he was exchanging a pack of gum. the guy shoved some crumpled twenties into harry’s hand, already too distracted by his phone to say anything else.

“you’re a lifesaver, bro.”

he left through the back door without another word.

weekends were always like this. frat houses, dorm rooms, random street corners. most fridays, he had ten stops, maybe more if people got desperate.

his phone buzzed constantly. texts rolling in every fifteen minutes:

can you meet by the bodega?

do u have anything stronger? asking for a friend.

the last one made him roll his eyes. he didn’t do stronger. stronger got people killed, got cops asking questions. harry wasn’t stupid. this wasn’t about partying or fun; it was money.

he started dealing during his first year at nyu. not because he wanted to, but because the scholarships didn’t cover everything, and student loans only went so far.

at first, it was just weed. his guy, jeff, lived in brooklyn—a family man with a college degree, a wife, and two kids. harry used to think guys like jeff had it figured out: the house in a decent neighborhood, the minivan parked out front, the soccer games on weekends. but his life was no more stable than harry’s.

jeff’s business wasn’t just selling weed—it was growing it, right in his basement. his wife knew, of course. they kept it far from the kids, locked up tight behind a door that might as well have been a vault.

he hadn’t started out as a dealer, either. he ran his own small business—some business marketing firm that couldn’t compete with the bigger guys. now, the basement was his fallback, extra income, and harry couldn’t help but see a version of himself in jeff. same fire, same hustle, same gnawing ache of more, more, more.

“this isn’t enough,” he had said one night, halfway through weighing a fresh batch. the house smelled faintly of citrus and pine, a scent jeff swore masked the weed smell. “you ever thought about branching out?”

harry frowned, leaning back against the workbench “branching out how?”

“psychedelics—shrooms, lsd. same crowd, bigger profit. no one’s getting hooked, no one’s overdosing. it’s clean.”

harry’s gut twisted. he didn’t like the sound of it—too messy, too big. “i dunno, mate. weed’s easy. i don’t want t’get in deeper.”

jeff leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “i get it. but you’re already in. and if you play it smart, you don’t have to worry about the cops, or junkies, or any of that shit. i know a guy in the bronx—mutual friend. you’d like him. solid guy, clean product.”

he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. “y’really think it’s worth it?”

jeff smiled faintly, shrugging. “depends on what you want. if it’s just enough to scrape by, keep doing what you’re doing. but if you want to breathe a little? yeah. it’s worth it.”

harry didn’t jump in right away.

it took a few weeks of thinking, weighing the risks against the reward. but eventually, he made the trip to the bronx. the guy jeff pointed him to was older, late thirties maybe, with a clean apartment and a habit of over-explaining. harry liked him immediately.

the product was good. better than he expected. shrooms, lsd tabs, packaged clean and easy to move. the kind of stuff that sold itself to the right crowd.

molly came later.

it started with frat guys asking for it at parties, offering triple what harry charged for weed. at first, he turned them down. molly was different—harder to control, riskier. but the money kept knocking at his door, and harry, tired of scraping by, finally let it in.

his guy in the bronx knew a supplier. harry kept it lowkey—low doses, clean product, no bullshit. but it still weighed on him, the way every step deeper into this life felt like standing on thin ice.

jeff always said this kind of hustle didn’t last forever. harry just hoped he’d find a way out before it swallowed him whole.

his voice stayed in his head more than he liked to admit—you can’t do this forever, kid. something’s gotta give.

but that was the problem, wasn’t it? harry didn’t know what would give first—his luck, his sanity, or the thin line he kept walking between survival and collapse.

the deeper he got into dealing, the more he saw how easy it was for people to lose themselves in it. not just the buyers—people like jeff, too.

there was this one night, months after harry started moving psychedelics. jeff had called him over, saying he had some fresh product he wanted harry to try. he drove out to brooklyn, expecting the usual.

but when he got there, he looked different. tired in a way that felt heavier.

“you good?” he had asked, leaning against the workbench.

he nodded, but his hands trembled slightly as he sealed a bag. “yeah, just a long week. car broke down, furnace is acting up… you know how it is.”

he did. too well.

when he left that night, the bag of weed tucked into his backpack, he couldn’t shake the thought—this doesn’t end well. jeff had everything harry thought he wanted—a family, a house, a life that looked solid from the outside. and still, it wasn’t enough.

he lit a cigarette as he drove back to the city, the smoke curling around him in the dark car. he couldn’t let this life be all there was. couldn’t let it pull him down the same way it was pulling jeff.

but even as he told himself he’d find a way out, harry’s phone buzzed with another text, another buyer, another deal.

just enough was never enough.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. he was tired. bone-tired. the kind of tired that lived in his spine and refused to leave, no matter how much sleep he got.

but he typed back anyway.

because this was life. grinding himself into the ground so someone else could forget their bullshit for a night.

and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t afford to.

*

the rain wasn’t letting up. the kind that soaked you through in seconds, cold and sharp like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your skin. the stairwell in the building was already a deathtrap on the best days—cheap tiles, no traction, old wood.

he was on the couch when he heard it. a thud, heavy and hollow, like someone had dropped a bag of bricks—or fallen. then the curses followed, muffled but furious, the kind of sound that pulled him out of the half-sleep he’d been drifting into.

he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. for a second, he thought about ignoring it. again, wasn’t his problem. but something about the sound got under his skin.

grabbing the sweatshirt hanging off the back of the couch, he pulled it on and opened the door, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.

that’s when he saw her.

sprawled on the stairs, her sweater soaked through, hair sticking to her face, and an armful of books scattered around her like shrapnel.

fucking christ, harry thought, leaning against the doorframe. he crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you always this graceful, or is it a wednesday night special?”

she looked up, and if looks could kill, he’d have been dead on the spot. her cheeks were flushed, probably from a mix of frustration and exertion, and her jaw was clenched tight enough to crack. “are you always this much of an asshole, or do i just bring it out in you?”

harry let the smirk grow into something closer to a grin. “you okay?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-genuine.

YN didn’t answer right away. she was too busy untangling herself, her knee hitting the step as she tried to gather the mess of books and papers that had spilled everywhere.

harry sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “hold on.”

he jogged down the stairs, crouching to pick up a book near her feet. the cover was soaked, the pages already curling at the edges. he flipped it over in his hand, inspecting the damage. “you’re gonna fail with this,” he said, holding it up. “this thing’s toast.”

she snatched the book from him, glaring. “you’re toast.”

he chuckled under his breath, bending to pick up another one. this time, it was a notebook—thick, overstuffed, with half the pages threatening to fall out. “what are you even carrying all this for?”

“this is college, is it not?”

harry straightened, stacking the notebook on top of the book in her arms. “you’re gonna wreck your back lugging all this around.”

“not everyone has money for a decent bag.” she muttered, not looking at him as she grabbed the papers from his hand.

that made him pause. his jaw tightened, his usual sarcasm flickering into something harder, heavier. he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it just as fast.

he shifted, handing her the last book. “here. try not to break your neck next time.”

she snorted, a bitter laugh slipping out before she could stop it. she pushed herself up, wincing as she shifted her weight onto her right leg.

“you sure you’re okay?” harry asked again, watching the way she was favoring her left leg.

“i’m fine.”

“right.” harry muttered, crossing his arms as she started up the stairs. he followed her halfway up, more out of habit than concern, and watched as she struggled to balance her books against the wet fabric of her sweater.

when they reached the landing, she stopped, glancing back at him. “thanks,” she said, the word sounding like it physically hurt her to say.

harry shrugged. “don’t mention it.”

as she turned to head toward her apartment, she added over her shoulder, “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked again, shaking his head as he watched her limp away. he didn’t respond, just leaned against the wall, waiting until she disappeared into her unit before heading back to his own.

he dropped onto the couch, dragging a worn notebook off the coffee table and flipping it open. but his focus was shot. all he could picture was her on the stairs—soaked, pissed, and too stubborn to admit she wasn’t fine.

her comment stuck with him, too. not everyone has money for a decent bag. harry hated how much that hit home.

the world didn’t give a shit if you couldn’t afford what you needed. if you didn’t have it, you improvised. it was why he was out here selling weed and molly to spoiled frat boys and girls with trust funds so deep they could drown in them.

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. his phone buzzed on the armrest beside him, breaking the silence.

it was one of his regulars, some sophomore who thought a couple grams of shrooms would make her weekend transformative.

yeah. same spot. 9pm.

he tossed the phone onto the table, leaning back against the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. this was the life: fixing busted radiators, chasing down half-earned engineering credits, and grinding himself into the ground so some kid could take a trip they’d forget by monday morning.

later that night, he was back out, a ballcap sat over his curls, backpack slung over his shoulder, heading to the usual corner just off washington square park. it wasn’t raining anymore, but the streets were still slick, reflecting the city lights like oil spills.

he spotted the girl waiting for him, leaning against a lamppost with her arms crossed. she waved when she saw him, a little too eager.

the exchange was quick, the shrooms passing from his hand to hers, the cash tucked into his pocket in one smooth motion. no small talk, no lingering.

when he got home, the hallway was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead. YN’s door was closed, no sounds coming from the other side.

he paused for a second, staring at it. he shook his head, unlocking his door and stepping inside. the idea that popped into his brain was stupid, irrational. he didn’t owe her anything. she was just the girl down the hall, who gave as much shit as she took.

but still, he dug into his closet, pulling out the old army surplus bag he’d stopped using after high school. it wasn’t much, but it was better than what she had now.

the next morning, harry slipped out of his apartment early, the bag in hand. he dropped it just outside her door, no note, no explanation, before heading out to his first lecture of the day.

when YN found it later, she stared at it for a long moment, her brows knitting together. she didn’t have to ask who left it. and even though she muttered asshole under her breath, she brought it inside with a faint smile.

because she needed it. and harry—whether he’d admit it or not—knew that.

the next time they saw each other, he was coming up the stairs, his backpack slung low, the smell of rain clinging to his sweatshirt. it was late—nearly eleven—and he was tired, the kind of exhaustion that sank into his chest and refused to let go.

YN was coming down, her new bag bouncing lightly against her hip. she was in scrubs and a college hoodie, hair tied back, but there was a tension in her face that hadn’t been there before. maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the unmistakable look of someone dragging themselves through another brutal shift.

they almost passed each other without a word. almost.

but as they crossed paths, she stopped, her hand gripping the railing. “hey.”

harry stopped mid-step, turning to look at her. “hey,” he echoed, noncommittal.

she tilted her head toward the bag. “this you?”

he leaned against the railing, shrugging like it was no big deal. “needed something better, right?”

her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. finally, she shook her head, letting out a dry laugh. “why, though? why do you care?”

he blinked, caught off guard. he didn’t have an answer for that—at least not one he could say out loud. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging again. “call it charity,” he said. “or don’t. i don’t really care.”

YN stared at him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. then she nodded, her grip on the railing loosening. “thanks,” she muttered, her tone softer this time.

���don’t mention it.”

but before he could take another step, she smiled—the tiniest twitch upward. “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked at that, glancing back over his shoulder. “you’re welcome, cinnamon.”

her brows shot up at the nickname, her mouth opening to protest, but harry didn’t stick around to hear it. he was already heading back to his apartment, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

that should’ve been the end of it.

but the next day, when harry opened his door to grab the mail, there was a coffee cup sitting just outside, still warm, with no note or explanation.

he frowned, picking it up and staring at it like it might explode.

then, from down the hall, YN’s door opened, and she leaned out, raising an eyebrow at him. “drink it or don’t—i don’t care.”

he held up the cup, smirking. “what’s this? donations?”

“no,” she grinned, already retreating back inside. “just paying it forward, asshole.”

the door clicked shut, and he stood there, shaking his head, the faintest chuckle escaping him as he sipped the coffee.

*

their classes in south hall were evening ones, usually letting out at nine pm sharp.

YN stepped out of the biology lab first, tugging her sleeves down against the chill that crept into the building after dark. her bag was slung over her shoulders, the college crewneck rumpled from hours of sitting in the same chair. her jeans were stiff from the cold, her shoes scuffed with wear, and her hair fell loose around her face, sticking slightly to her cheek. she brushed it back absently, her eyes on the door ahead.

harry caught sight of her from the second-floor stairwell as he left his chemistry lecture—a rolling stones hoodie hung loose on his frame, sweatpants sitting low on his hips, his green sambas (that he bought second hand, his proudest find) practically falling apart at the seams.

he hadn’t planned on saying anything. hell, he wasn’t even sure she’d noticed him. but as he watched her push through the doors, her breath fogging in the cold, he felt something tug at him.

he hesitated for half a second before jogging down the stairs, his curls bouncing slightly as he caught up to her “hey.”

she glanced over her shoulder, her steps slowing just enough to register him. her brows furrowed when she saw him. “you’re in chemistry,” she said, like it was an accusation.

harry blinked, a bit confused as to what she was hinting at—but going with it anyway. “m’yeah. good observation, sherlock.”

“no, i mean,” she gestured vaguely behind her. “your class is upstairs. what’re you doing down here?”

harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “walking home. duh. our lectures must end at the same time.”

YN gave him a skeptical look, her pace picking up again as they stepped into the night. “you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive. “i’m fine.”

he fell into step beside her anyway, the straps of his backpack swinging slightly as he walked. “cool. didn’t ask.”

her jaw tightened, and she shot him a look. “seriously, i don’t need a babysitter.”

“good,” harry muttered, unbothered. “’cause I’m not volunteering.”

she sighed, tugging her bag closer to her body as they trudged through campus. the sound of their shoes against the pavement filled the space between them.

as they turned the corner, the streetlight flickered above, casting long, uneven shadows across the sidewalk. harry noticed the guy first.

it wasn’t unusual to be sketched out by randoms over here, their apartment was on the edge of campus—lots of stragglers where university police didn’t quite patrol.

he was leaning against a stop sign, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. his gaze was lazy, his posture too casual, the way people got when they wanted you to feel like they were watching you without actually looking.

harry stepped closer to YN without thinking, his shoulder brushing hers as he moved between her and the road.

“seriously?” she muttered, stopping mid-step to glare at him.

harry didn’t look at her, his eyes locked forward as they passed. “what?” he asked, voice calm. “said i’d walk with you. didn’t say i wouldn’t get in the way.”

she scoffed, but she didn’t pull away. he brushed it off, and in a way, she appreciated that—the way he acknowledged her nerves but didn’t say anything. the way he acted like it was just a miss-step rather than a reassurance.

when they reached the entrance of their apartment building, YN stopped, finally turning to face him. her arms were crossed now, her expression sharp. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“you’re welcome.” his eyebrows knit together in stifled laughter, looking straight past her as he opened the heavy door to their building, holding it open for her to walk through.

they went up the narrow stairwell quietly, each step creaking under their weight.

she pursed her lips, stepping past him to unlock her door. but just before she disappeared inside, she glanced back at him, her tone softer this time. “thanks, i guess.”

harry tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t mention it.”

the door clicked shut behind her, and harry lingered for a second, staring at the empty hallway beyond. then he shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, turned, and headed to his own door. his rings clicked against his keys as he unlocked it, the faintest smirk still on his lips.

*

the walk back from the hospital felt longer tonight.

the clock had just ticked past ten, but the streets were alive with people heading to bars, parties, anywhere but where she’d been. YN tugged on the sleeves of her hoodie, pulling them down farther, the fabric worn soft from too many washes. her scrub pants swished faintly as she walked, her badge clipped to her pocket, catching the glow of passing headlights.

her shift had been hell. the kind of night where you didn’t have time to think, let alone breathe. a kid came in after a bad bike crash, his face pale, his leg bent in a way it shouldn’t have been. then there was guy that coughed up blood over her sneakers—not to mention running around the er the entire rest of shift to do the work the nurses couldn’t get to.

her feet dragged as she pushed through the door to her building, climbing the stairs to the second floor one step at a time.

the music hit her first.

it wasn’t loud, just a faint rhythm seeping through the crack of harry’s door. something easy, mellow.

as she walked past his door, her steps slowed, her gaze flicking toward it. for a second, she lingered, her pulse ticking faster than it should’ve. but then she kept walking.

she tried to focus on her own door, just a few steps away, but her mind wouldn’t settle. work had been brutal. her roommate would be on a two hour facetime with her boyfriend, giggling about nothing. her friends were either pulling late shifts or at some frat house, three beers deep by now. and the quiet—god, the quiet—was going to eat her alive.

before she even realized what she was doing, she spun on her heel, walking back the way she came. her hand hesitated over harry’s door, her fingers curling into a loose fist before she knocked.

the door swung open after a moment, and there he was.

he stood there in loose jeans and an old band tee, his curls falling into his face like he hadn’t bothered to push them back. the rings on his fingers glinted faintly in the dim light behind him, chipped black polish catching her eye.

“cinnamon,” he grinned, leaning one arm against the doorframe. his voice was low, amused. “what’s up?”

behind him, she saw the room wasn’t empty.

lounging on harry’s couch was louis, a guy she vaguely recognized from her english lecture—he was always late, always cracking jokes that somehow landed. and in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter, was a tall guy she didn’t quite recognize.

she took the smallest step back, shaking her head. “sorry,” she mumbled quickly. “didn’t realize you had people over. never-mind.”

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from her to the empty hallway behind her. “y’sure? you look…” he trailed off, his lips quirking slightly. “rough.”

she glared at him. “thanks. really needed that.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “you’re knocking on my door at ten o’clock, cinnamon. that’s gotta be for a reason, yeah?”

she hesitated, her fingers twitching at her side. the guy in the kitchen glanced over briefly, then went back to whatever he was doing, and louis didn’t seem to notice her at all. “forget it,” she muttered, stepping back again. “i’m fine.”

he didn’t move, his eyes narrowed as they locked onto hers. “bullshit.”

her jaw tightened, her shoulders straightening. “i was just gonna ask if you had anything. you know, to…” she gestured vaguely, avoiding his eyes. “take the edge off.”

his smile returned, slow and knowing. “didn’t peg you as the type.”

YN glared again, her cheeks flushing slightly. “for a dealer, you’re really bad at pushing sales.” she said flatly, spinning on her heel.

he chuckled lightly, stepping out into the hallway a bit. “hold on a sec.”

she paused, turning halfway back to face him.

he glanced over his shoulder, toward the couch and the kitchen, before meeting her eyes again. “come back in ten,” he nodded. “i’ll get rid of ‘em.”

she blinked, caught off guard. “you don’t have to—”

“i said ten.” he cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

before she could say anything else, he stepped back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. YN stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door like it might open again. she bit the inside of her lip, fidgeting with her key and going inside.

and at exactly 10 minutes, she was back in front of harry’s door.

this time, she didn’t hesitate. she knocked twice, easier than before.

the door opened almost immediately.

harry stood there again, his curls pushed back out of his face this time. his expression was unreadable, somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “told you ten minutes.” he stepped back, leaving the door open for her. “c’mon.”

his apartment wasn’t what she expected, though she wasn’t sure what she’d pictured. it was small, dimly lit by a single desk lamp in the corner. the faint scent of weed hung in the air, but the room was surprisingly neat, except for a pile of papers and notebooks on the table.

lounging on the couch, louis was pulling on his jacket, his face lighting up in surprise when he saw her. “oh, hey. you’re…” he snapped his fingers, squinting. “chem lab, right? morning lecture?”

YN nodded stiffly, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie. “english,” she corrected. “i see you there sometimes.”

“right, right,” louis said, grinning. he turned to harry. “new buyer? good taste, man.”

harry rolled his eyes, stifling his own smile. “out.” he muttered, shoving a hand toward the door.

louis smirked but didn’t argue. he grabbed his bag, tossing a wink at YN before stepping into the hallway. the guy in the kitchen followed, slipping past her without so much as a glance, the scent of cheap cologne trailing behind him.

he shut the door with a sharp click, locking it before turning to face her. “there. happy?”

she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall near the door. “i didn’t ask you to kick them out.”

“you didn’t have to.”

she sighed, her gaze shifting to the desk in the corner. the blueprints stacked there caught her attention—clean lines, precise calculations, a world that felt miles away from hers.

“you gonna tell me what you want, or are we just standing here all night?”

her eyes snapped back to his, the sharpness in his tone cutting through the haze of her thoughts. “got anything that’ll knock me out for a few hours?”

he raised an eyebrow, walking past her to the desk. he opened a drawer, rummaging around before pulling out a small baggie with a single edible inside. “low-dose,” he said, holding it up. “won’t knock you out, but it’ll take the edge off.”

YN hesitated, glancing between him and the baggie. “how much?”

harry shook his head, tossing it onto the counter. “on the house.”

“i’m not—”

“just take it,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “call it a favor. or a bribe. whatever makes you feel better.”

she stepped closer, picking up the baggie with careful fingers. her eyes flicked to his, searching for something she wasn’t sure she’d find. “thanks.” she muttered, her voice quieter now.

harry leaned against the edge of the counter, his arms crossed. “you look like shit, by the way.”

she huffed, shoving the baggie into her hoodie pocket. “and you’re still a dick.” she shot back, heading for the door.

“fair enough.” he muttered. but just as she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her. “hey, cinnamon.”

she turned, her brow furrowed. “what?”

harry’s smirk softened slightly, the easy confidence in his tone faltering just enough to feel real. “you ever wanna talk, you know where i live.”

YN didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to. she just nodded once and slipped out the door, her footsteps fading down the hall.

the next day, it was closer to four pm when YN got home from work.

she barely noticed the faint buzz of her roommate’s call as she slipped into the bathroom, peeling off her scrubs and stepping under the hot spray of the shower. the water hit her like a reset button, the ache in her shoulders easing as the steam curled around her.

when she finally emerged, her hair damp and loose, she threw on a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized sweater—something warm, something safe. the apartment was quiet now, her roommate having left a while ago, probably off to see her boyfriend.

it was around six when the knock came.

YN glanced up from her laptop, her brows furrowing. she wasn’t expecting anyone. she hesitated for a second, debating if she even wanted to answer, but curiosity won out.

when she opened the door, harry was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk softened into something more uncertain. he looked like he’d been pacing before this, his curls slightly disheveled, his hoodie hanging loose over a pair of black sweatpants.

“hey.”

YN raised an eyebrow. “hey.”

“you any good at chem?”

she blinked, “chemistry?”

he nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “yeah. like, the basics. stoichiometry, balancing equations, all that shit.”

she tilted her head, leaning against the doorframe to mirror him. “i passed it with like an 85% so, i guess?”

he smiled, “fantastic. y’busy right now?”

“why?”

“thought maybe you could help me out. i’ve got a test coming up, and i’m…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “not great at it.”

“you want me to tutor you?”

he beamed, sarcastic, knowing. “sweet of you t’offer. let’s go.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “fine. but if i’m doing this, we’re going to the library. your apartment smells like weed, and i can’t think in there.”

he chuckled, stepping back as she grabbed her bag from the couch. “fair enough, cinnamon.”

the campus library wasn’t crowded, the usual sunday night stragglers scattered across the tables in hushed clusters. harry led her to a table in the back, far from the main entrance, where the buzz of conversation faded into the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.

he dropped his backpack onto the table, pulling out a battered notebook and a copy of the textbook that looked like it had been through hell. “alright, professor,” he said, smirking as he slid into the chair across from her. “teach me.”

“this is gonna be painful, isn’t it?”

harry grinned, flipping open the textbook. “probably.”

she sighed, leaning forward. “okay, first question—how the hell did you even make it to college if you don’t know the basics?”

harry shrugged, unbothered. “charm and good looks.”

she groaned, dropping her pen onto the table. “you’re gonna fail.”

“no,” he drawled with a smile, “that’s why you’re here.”

despite herself, YN smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the textbook. “alright, let’s see what we can do.”

the first twenty minutes were pure pain.

she flipped through harry’s beat-up textbook, squinting at the faint pencil notes scrawled in the margins. “alright,” she muttered, tapping her pen against the page. “let’s start with balancing equations. that’s pretty straightforward.”

harry slouched in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers like he was bored out of his mind already. (and he was. if he was honest, he didn’t need help with chem at all). “straightforward for you, maybe. i’m just here trying not to flunk out.”

she furrowed her eyebrows, shooting him a look. “you’re not gonna flunk out. you just need to—” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “try.”

“i’m trying right now. see? look at all this effort.” he gestured toward the open book in front of him.

she sighed, leaning across the table and grabbing the pen out of his hand. “no. this is you sitting there, being useless. pay attention, harry.”

“yes, ma’am.” he mumbled, sitting up slightly straighter. his voice carried the faintest edge of mockery, but he kept his eyes on her, watching as she wrote out a problem on a fresh sheet of paper.

after another ten minutes of stumbling through coefficients, YN thought she saw a flicker of understanding cross harry’s face. he pointed at the page. “so you just make the numbers match? like, both sides need the same amount of atoms?”

YN stared at him, deadpan. “yes. that’s literally it.”

he leaned back, running a hand through his curls. “jesus. why the hell does it sound so much harder in class?”

“because you don’t listen in class,” she laughed, “and i’m guessing you don’t read the textbook either.”

he grinned, leaning forward again. “why would i, when you’re clearly better at explaining it?”

she rolled her eyes, turning the page in the book. “charm and good looks only get you so far, harry. you’re gonna have to put some actual work into this.”

“oh, so you do think i’m charming.”

YN didn’t dignify that with a response. instead, she handed him the pen and pointed to the next problem. “solve it. no shortcuts, no guesses. i wanna see the work.”

he groaned but did as he was told, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on the page.

by the time the clock struck eight thirty, they’d managed to get through most of the chapter. YN had to admit—he wasn’t completely hopeless.

and all he could do was smile—she bought it. if engineering didn’t work out, he thought, maybe he could be an actor. or a pathological liar.

“see?” she said, leaning back in her chair. “you’re not terrible at this. just lazy.”

harry huffed a laugh, closing the textbook with a loud thud. “lazy? you wound me, cinnamon.”

“you’ll live. anyway, i think we’re done for tonight. unless you wanna keep going?”

they walked out of the library together, the crisp night air hitting them like a wall. the campus was quiet now, most of the students holed up in their dorms or off at whatever weekend plans they’d made.

as they reached the edge of the quad, he glanced at her. “thanks for helping me out.”

she shrugged, her hands tucked into her hoodie pocket. “no big deal. just don’t make it a habit.”

“what if i do?”

YN shot him a look, her brow furrowing slightly. “then you’re buying the coffee next time.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm in the cold air. “deal.”

they reached the entrance, and YN hesitated for a moment before heading inside. “night, harry.”

“night, cinnamon.”

as the door clicked shut behind her, harry lingered on the steps for a moment, lighting a cigarette.

he smiled to himself again, he couldn’t help it. he was proficient in math, one of his best subjects—bordering the edge of genius, basically. but she didn’t need to know that, not when he just stole a couple hours from her, not when it was the perfect excuse just to hang out with her.

it was wednesday when she next saw him.

the clock on YN’s laptop read 11:03 pm, the harsh blue light illuminating her tired eyes as she highlighted yet another passage in the dense textbook sprawled across her lap. the apartment was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle from her roommate’s room and the faint hum of traffic filtering in through the drafty window.

she hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch in over an hour, legs curled under her, a growing pile of sticky notes cluttering the coffee table. her focus was razor-sharp, though her back ached from the awkward position she’d settled into.

when the knock came, she didn’t flinch. didn’t even glance toward the door. she knew exactly who it was.

with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she set her laptop down carefully, nudging it closer to the stack of notes as she rose from the couch. her socked feet padded softly across the floor, her hand instinctively reaching for the lock. she swung the door open and leaned against the frame, her shoulder pressed into the wood as she tilted her head to the side.

“cinnamonnnn,” harry drawled, his voice almost melodic, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it had been hers all her life.

he stood there in a slightly oversized sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of gray sweatpants that were smaller than the ones from the other day—joggers maybe. a green packers beanie was snug over his curls, though a few stray strands peeked out, curling against his forehead. his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels like he had all the time in the world.

YN narrowed her eyes slightly, the faintest smile ghosting her lips. “harryyyy,” she mimicked, dragging out his name in the same exaggerated tone.

“you busy?”

yes. “no.”

his dimples deepened as his grin grew wider, like he knew she’d lie. “hang out with me for a bit then.”

she let out a quiet laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. “to do what? it’s almost midnight.”

“come walk with me.”

her lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping as she gave him a hesitant look. he didn’t push, just waited, the silence between them comfortable, expectant. “you’re such a bad influence,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned back into the apartment.

“oh, yeah,” harry said, stepping forward to catch the door before it closed. “terrible.”

she tugged a sweater over her head, the fabric swallowing her as she slipped her feet into an old pair of sneakers. they were loose, the kind she could slip on without bothering with laces.

when she stepped past him, harry held the door open before letting it fall shut behind them as they ambled into the narrow hallway.

“where are we going?” YN asked as they descended the stairs, the cool air of the building’s lobby settling around them.

“you’ll see.”

she huffed, though the corners of her mouth tugged upward as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. he moved like the world waited for him, unhurried but purposeful, his long legs carrying him down the steps in easy strides.

when they pushed through the front door and into the night, the cold air hit her immediately, making her shiver as she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

their path wound deeper into campus—the air quiet, save for the rustling of dead leaves underfoot and the occasional distant honk of a car. the faint glow of streetlights filtered through the thinning trees, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

harry walked slightly ahead, shoulders hunched against the cool air. she walked beside him, somewhat, perhaps a step behind, though the edge of her elbow would brush against his arm every so often. it wasn’t an accident, not really.

their breaths puffed out in white clouds, swirling in the breeze before disappearing. the last of the dead leaves fell from the trees with a soft crackle, catching in the wind before tumbling to the ground.

his pace slowed slightly, letting her match him, and he nudged her with his shoulder—just enough to jostle her. she looked up, her brow furrowing as she glanced at him.

“what was that for?”

he smirked, his gaze flicking ahead. “thought you were fallin’ asleep over there.”

she rolled her eyes but let her shoulder bump into his lightly as they walked. “sure. ‘cause nothing screams excitement like following you into the middle of nowhere.”

he let out a low chuckle, his breath visible in the cold air. “you’re dramatic, you know that?”

“you didn’t answer the question earlier.”

“what question?”

“about where we’re going,” she said, her voice teasing. “you could be leading me astray so you can murder me without any witnesses.”

he turned his head to look at her, his brows lifting, “i did answer, you just didn’t accept it.” he paused, pursing his lips as if he was in thought. “it would be a good plan, though. quiet enough out here. no one’d hear a thing.”

she snorted, her steps faltering slightly as she tried not to laugh. “you’re a terrible murderer. you’d leave a trail of evidence a mile wide.”

“would not.”

“would too.”

he turned to her fully now, his eyes narrowing as he stepped backward in front of her. his hands were still stuffed in his pockets, his pace matching hers even as he walked in reverse.

“alright, then,” he said, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “if i were to murder you—and that’s a big if, by the way—how exactly would i screw it up?”

she bit back a smile, “well, for starters, you’d forget to hide the body properly. probably just leave me in the middle of the path, thinking no one would notice.”

he let out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking as he shook his head. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it?” YN countered, raising a brow. “you’re the one who thinks this is a good place to kill someone.”

his grin widened, the faintest dimple appearing in his cheek. “you’re paranoid, cinnamon. that’s your problem.”

“and you’re too cocky. that’s yours.”

they fell into a rhythm again, walking side by side as the breeze picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of city streets and damp leaves. their arms brushed again, neither of them pulling away, the warmth of the contact lingering longer than it should.

harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the smirk on his lips softening slightly. “for the record,” he said, his voice quieter now, “i know exactly where i’m going.”

she smiled, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “good,” she said lightly. “cause i’d hate to have to come back and haunt you if you got me lost.”

their steps grew softer as the buildings behind them thinned out, replaced by clusters of trees swaying in the light breeze. the path curved slightly, the faint hum of traffic fading into the distance.

he walked slightly ahead, his head turning now and then to glance at the towering oaks that lined their path. the trees began to part, revealing the outline of icahn stadium in the near distance. the track and field stretched wide beneath the faint glow of a single overhead light, casting long shadows across the ground. the bleachers stood tall and imposing, their sea of blue seats reaching into the sky like a wave frozen in time.

harry slowed to a stop as they approached, the chain-link fence surrounding the stadium standing between them and the field. he didn’t guide her toward the gate, knowing it would be locked after hours. instead, he stepped closer to the fence, pulling his hand out of his pocket and giving one of the links an experimental tug.

she watched him, her brow furrowing slightly. “if you think we’re going on a run,” she said, her voice flat, “you’ve completely lost it.”

he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his fingers curled around the chain link. he glanced at her over his shoulder, “shut up and c’mere, cinnamon.”

YN hesitated for half a second, then stepped forward, the grass folding beneath her sneakers. the light breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of earth and damp metal. he stepped back slightly, giving her room as she reached for the fence. without waiting for further instruction, she started to climb, her hands gripping the cold metal tightly as she hauled herself upward.

he watched her movements closely, his hands hovering near her hips in case she wobbled. “i got you,” he muttered, his voice soft enough to blend with the wind.

she didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of her arms as she reached the top of the fence. for a moment, she perched there, the view of the stadium stretching out before her, before swinging one leg over and carefully lowering herself to the other side.

harry gave the fence one last tug, then started climbing after her. his movements were quick and efficient, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. his sleeve bunched at his elbows as he reached the top, pausing briefly to glance down at her. “how’s the weather down there?”

she glanced up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “you’d better not fall. i’m not catching you.”

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he swung over the top and landed easily on the grass beside her. “wasn’t planning on it,” he breathed, brushing his hands off before shoving them back into his pockets.

they stood there for a moment, the quiet of the field settling around them like a blanket. the overhead light flickered slightly, casting their shadows long and thin against the ground.

she stared at him for a moment, then sighed, shaking her head as she followed him. “you’ve got way too much energy for this late at night.”

“and you were too stubborn t’say no.” harry shot back as he walked ahead, his steps light against the rubber surface. “used to hate running, y’know,” he breathed, glancing at YN as he spun around. he walked backward with an ease that made her slightly nervous, like he’d trip over himself any second but never actually would. “hated everything about it—your legs aching, your chest burnin’, that horrible feeling in your throat after.”

she caught up, her pace steady as she smiled faintly, her breath visible in the cool air. “now it’s your thing.”

he paused for a split second, his eyes catching hers in that unreadable way of his. then, to her surprise, he smiled. “yeah,” he nodded slightly. “now it’s my thing.”

the bleachers loomed ahead, their steel frame groaning faintly in the wind. harry reached them first, stepping aside to let her go up. “go on,” he muttered, gesturing upward with a nod. “all the way to the top.”

“what, you’re not going to race me?”

he smiled, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing. “wouldn’t be fair. your legs are shorter than mine.”

she narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help the faint laugh that slipped out. “wow. okay. guess i’ll just take my time then.”

she started up the concrete steps, her hands gripping the railings on either side. the cold bit at her palms, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of her feet against the uneven surface.

harry followed a few steps behind, his stride naturally longer than hers. “this is painful t’watch,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “are you always this slow, or is it just for me?”

YN stopped abruptly, her hands tightening around the railings as she shifted her weight. her hips jutted out slightly, throwing him off balance as he climbed.

he cursed under his breath, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady himself. his fingers found her hips, his grip firm but fleeting, as though he realized too late what he’d done. “jesus,” he muttered, pulling back as quickly as he’d touched her. “bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

she turned her head just enough to catch the faint flush creeping up his neck. she smirked, leaning her weight into the railing. “sorry—shorter legs and all.”

harry just blinked before the corner of his mouth twitched. he stepped back, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “you’re a child.”

she laughed softly, turning back to the stairs and continuing her climb. “yeah,” she called over her shoulder, her voice teasing. “but you’re still following me.”

they climbed higher, the steps echoing faintly beneath their feet, but harry's pace started to falter again—restlessness bleeding into his movements. "oh, for god's sake," he laughed, his patience snapping like a brittle thread. his fingers drummed against the railing briefly before he stopped altogether, grasping onto her wrist.

his grin was lopsided, dimples flashing as he let go of her hand and flung himself past her, his long legs taking the steps two at a time as he rushed toward the top. only a second and a half later, she met him up there, finding him standing there with a proud grin, his hands resting on his hips like he'd just conquered something monumental.

“impatience isn’t a virtue, by the way.”

he kept his smile, his dimples cutting deep as he lifted his hand in front of her face, palm out. his fingers wiggled dramatically, “talk to the hand, sista."

she paused, staring at him like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or push him off the railing. her expression cracked first, laughter spilling out before she could stop it. she swatted his hand away from her face as they leaned into each other, his own giggles breaking free in a low, rumbling sound that shook through him.

their laughter folded into each other, her shoulder pressing lightly into his chest as she tried to steady herself, his larger frame giving way slightly under the weight of their shared amusement.

harry’s laughter softened as he reached up, his fingers tugging at the edge of his packers beanie. his curls bounced free as he pulled it off, the cold air nipping at his now-exposed hair. without a word, he stretched his arm around her, carefully plopping the hat onto her head.

“what are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with with something delicate as she adjusted it, the oversized beanie swallowing her hair and tilting slightly to one side.

“you looked cold,” he said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. his fingers lingered at the edge of the beanie for just a second before he gave her forehead a gentle push with the flat of his palm.

it wasn’t hard—just enough to tip her head backward a little, like an afterthought, his grin barely contained as she blinked up at him.

“seriously?” YN smiled, tilting her head forward again, a faint laugh escaping as she fixed the hat and gave him a mock glare.

he didn’t reply, already stepping to his left with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing toward the narrow row of faded blue seats that stretched across the top of the bleachers. “c’mon.”

he slid into one of the seats first, his long legs folding awkwardly into the tight space as he leaned back and let out a contented sigh. he patted the seat beside him without looking at her.

she hesitated for a beat, brushing her hair out of her face before following him into the row. the cold metal of the seat pressed through her sweats as she sat down beside him, her knees brushing against his for just a second as she settled.

she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. harry’s beanie slipped forward slightly, brushing against her eyebrows, but she didn’t bother adjusting it. instead, she rested her chin on her knees, her gaze drifting across the empty field below as the wind whistled faintly through the bleachers.

he shifted beside her, digging into the pocket of his sweats. his movements were easy as he pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lime green lighter. sliding a cigarette between his lips, he leaned back, flicking the lighter once, twice

nothing.

his fingers were stiff from the cold, the wind catching the flame before it had a chance to hold. he tried again, his brows furrowing slightly as he muttered something under his breath.

YN turned her head, watching him with quiet curiosity. “you good over there?”

harry’s lips quirked around the cigarette. “just peachy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he tried one more time.

without a word, she reached over, her fingers brushing against his as she took the lighter from him. “hold still,” she murmured, leaning sideways as she cupped her hand over the cigarette perched between his lips, shielding it from the breeze.

her movements were practiced, easy, like she’d done this a hundred times before. she flicked the lighter once, and the small flame sprang to life, steady this time. she lit the end of the cigarette, her hand still shielding it from the wind as she glanced up at him. “there.”

harry took a drag, the ember glowing softly in the dim light, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. his gaze flicked to her, an unreadable expression crossing his face before his lips tilted into a small, lopsided grin.

she shifted back into her seat and pulled the beanie lower over her ears, her chin finding its place against her knees again. they sat in the quiet for a while, the whispers of the wind weaving around them, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or harry’s exhales.

she looked him over, the way his curls danced around his face, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, how the ember’s reflection flickered in his eyes. she bit the inside of her cheek before she muttered softly, almost to herself, “you’re british.”

he let out a breathy chuckle, the sound slipping through his nose as he took another pull from the cigarette. he sighed slowly, the smoke curling up into the cold night air before he turned his head toward her, his smirk faint but amused. “good eye, sherlock.”

she kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she prepared to retort, her lips parting—

but harry cut her off before she could. “—cheshire,” he breathed, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that caught her off guard, soft and lilting. “born there, anyway. mum moved me and my sister here when i was thirteen.”

“for a job or..?”

he nodded, the glow of the cigarette tip briefly lighting his features as he took another drag. “she got an offer she couldn’t turn down. packed us up, left everything behind. started over.”

YN tilted her head slightly, watching the way his gaze lingered on the field below, distant but steady. “must’ve been hard.”

he shrugged, “it was… weird. missing home, trying t’fit in here. but she did what she had to do. mum’s always been good at that—doing what has to be done.”

there was a warmth in his voice, a quiet admiration that made her chest tighten. she didn’t push for more, sensing that he’d already said more than he usually would. “your accent is starting to fade,” she said instead, her lips curving into a small smile.

he smiled faintly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “guess so. comes back strong when i’m drunk, though.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned her eyes back to the field.

he shifted slightly in his seat, his arm brushing hers as he glanced over, his cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. “what about you?”

she blinked, turning her head toward him. “me?”

“yes, you. where’s home?”

she hesitated for a moment, “about an hour north,” she mumbled, her voice carrying the faintest edge of something wistful. “right on the border between here and connecticut.”

he nodded, leaning back slightly as he tilted his head toward her. “family?”

YN huffed a quiet breath, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “brother’s in the army. mom and dad work all the time. and i’m just here.”

his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes studying her for a moment, thoughtful and quiet. “just here?”

she shrugged, hugging her knees closer to her chest as she rested her chin on them again. “yeah. they’re busy, you know? always have been. it’s not bad or anything, it’s just… how it is.”

harry didn’t respond right away, the glow of his cigarette catching the faint flicker of emotion in his gaze. “you don’t go home much, then.”

“no. they’re fine without me. and i’ve got everything i need here. school, this place… the occasional packers beanie to keep me warm.”

he chuckled gently at that, the sound low and warm as he reached out to tug the edge of the beanie further down over her ears.

YN tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she broke the silence with a question that felt heavier than the moment. “ever fall in love?”

he turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly at the unexpectedness of it. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “once or twice.”

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips twitching into a faint, almost knowing smile. “yeah,” she said softly. “me too. once or twice.”

his eyes lingered on her, studying the curve of her profile in the dim light. “what happened?”

“life, i guess. we grew apart, wanted different things.” she paused, her fingers idly tugging at her sleeves. “it wasn’t awful. just… wasn’t meant to be.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to the field below as he leaned back again, stretching his legs out in front of him.“same here.” he sighed. “things got complicated. fell apart before it could really go anywhere.”

YN turned to face him fully now, her cheek resting on her knees as she studied him. “do you think it’s worth it?”

“what, love?”

she nodded.

he was quiet for a beat, his features softening as he mulled over her question. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but certain. “for the right person.”

silence.

“—he treat you right?”

“what?”

he flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “the guy you loved. did he treat you right?”

she hesitated before she nodded, check still flush against her knees. “most of the time.”

his jaw twitched at her answer, “most of the time isn’t enough, y’know?”

“think you could do better?” she teased lightly, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity in her tone.

harry turned to her then, his eyes meeting hers, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk. “yeah,” he said simply, taking another drag. “i know i could.”

her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t look away. instead, she lifted her chin off her knees, her lips curving into a small, sly smile. “yeah right, harry.”

“i don’t say shit i don’t mean, cinnamon. not like that.”

YN didn’t respond, just shook her head faintly as she turned her head back to the field, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t quite know how to name.

he stayed quiet too, the silence settling over them again, but this time it felt heavier, charged with something unspoken that neither of them was ready to unpack.

he let the cigarette drop to the concrete, the faint glow of its ember dying as he ground it under his sneaker. the scrape of rubber against stone was sharp in the quiet, and then he straightened, towering over YN as her gaze followed him.

“let’s go,” he mumbled, his voice even but lacking the warmth it held earlier.

something had shifted.

it was subtle—barely a flicker—but she felt it. the easy banter from earlier seemed to pull back, replaced by something quieter, something more guarded.

she didn’t question it, though. not yet.

harry gestured toward the steps, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for her to stand.

she sighed softly, pulling his packers beanie tighter over her ears as she rose, the cold biting at her cheeks while she fell into step beside him as they made their way back down the bleachers.

when they reached the chain-link fence again, harry stepped forward first, gripping the metal links as he tested its sturdiness like he had before. he didn’t say anything, only nodded toward the fence as he stepped aside to let her climb.

YN rolled her eyes but moved toward it anyway, her hands curling around the cold metal as she pulled herself up. harry’s hands hovered near her hips just as they had earlier.

she glanced down briefly to meet his eyes before she swung her leg over the top and climbed down the other side.

he followed quickly, his movements smooth and quick, landing on the grass beside her with barely a sound. they fell into step together on the walk back, the cool night air nipping at exposed skin as the distant hum of traffic filled the silence.

harry’s hands stayed buried in his pockets, his head slightly lowered as his long strides matched her shorter ones.

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor. he wasn’t closed off, not entirely, but there was a distance now, like he was holding something back. "you okay?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

"mm-hm,” he hummed, his tone even, but distant. "you?"

she nodded, even though something about his shift made her chest feel heavier. "yeah."

she didn’t press, didn’t push. instead, she let the silence stretch between them as their footsteps echoed softly against the pavement.

by the time they reached their building, the city felt quieter, the world around them settling into the stillness of the late night.

and though neither of them said a word as they split, the weight of the unspoken things between them lingered, threading itself into the space they shared.

another few days passed, and the walk back to the apartment felt lighter than usual.

YN had just said goodbye to a friend before rounding the corner to the building, her smile lingering as she adjusted the strap of her bag. it wasn’t often she felt this at ease.

but that lightness disappeared the moment she reached the stairwell.

as she climbed to their floor, her eyes landed on harry. he was standing at his door, his shoulders tense, his head down. his key trembled in his hand, the metal scraping against the lock as he missed the slot for what had to be the third time.

it was wrong. harry was steady. always steady. whether he was handing off a bag of weed or walking down the street like the world revolved around him, he had this uncanny knack for keeping his cool.

but not tonight.

she slowed her steps, her brow furrowing as she got closer. “harry?” her voice cut through the stillness, sharper than she intended.

his head snapped up. for a brief moment, she saw something raw in his eyes—panic, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came. his mouth twisted into a faint smile, the one he always wore like armor. “you’re back early.” his voice was rough, low, like he’d been grinding it against a wall.

she took a step closer, her eyes scanning him. “was about to say the same thing.” her gaze flicked to his hand, the one holding the key, the knuckles split and bruised.

“what happened to your hand?”

he stiffened, tucking the injured hand into his hoodie pocket. “nothing’.”

“bullshit,” she muttered, shoving her keys and phone into her pockets to free her hands. “let me see.”

he let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, cinnamon.”

the nickname barely registered; her focus stayed on him, on the tension in his shoulders, the blood crusting his knuckles. “harry,” she said, her tone firmer now. “you’re bleeding. just let me—”

“it’s fine!” he shouted, his voice cutting.

YN snapped her head back up, averting her gaze from his hidden hands, right to his eyes. his chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and uneven. she didn’t speak, just stood there, watching the way his jaw tightened like he was trying to swallow something bitter.

he finally sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “fuck.”he mumbled, almost to himself.

she moved closer again, slower this time, her voice softer. “let me help.”

his eyes flicked to hers, guarded but not as sharp. his lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

inside her apartment, the air felt too still, too quiet.

harry sat stiffly at her small kitchen table, his hoodie now pushed back to reveal the messy curls tumbling over his forehead. he cradled his injured hand in his lap, his jaw set as YN dug through her cabinet for the first aid kit.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he muttered, his voice low.

“yeah, well,” she sighed, pulling the kit down with a thud. “i’m doing it anyway.”

when she sat across from him, the silence between them grew heavy. she reached for his hand, but he hesitated, his fingers curling slightly.

“harry.”

he huffed but relented, letting her take his hand in hers.

the damage was worse up close. his knuckles were split and swollen, streaks of blood staining the spaces between his fingers. she inhaled sharply, her brows knitting as she reached for the antiseptic.

“jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head. “what the hell did you do?”

he didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the floor. when he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “ran into someone.”

she paused, the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball hovering over his knuckles. “like?”

“someone who didn’t want to pay up front.”

her stomach twisted. she pressed the cotton to his knuckles, and he hissed through his teeth, his fingers twitching under hers.

“hold still.” she murmured, her voice softer, airy.

he didn’t respond, just watched her work. her touch was careful but firm, her hands steady as she cleaned the cuts.

“you can’t keep doing this.” she said quietly, not looking up.

harry’s lips twitched, a dry laugh escaping him. “you worried about me?”

YN shot him a look, her expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. “maybe, harry. you ever think about that?”

his smile faded, and for a moment, his eyes softened—just a fraction, but enough for her to notice. “it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.’” she countered, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“maybe.” he whispered, watching her tie off the bandage.

“and you’re okay with that?”

his gaze flicked up to hers, and for a moment, something vulnerable passed between them—something unspoken but heavy. “depends on the day.”

she swallowed hard, her fingers lingering on the edge of the bandage before she leaned back.

“you’re an idiot.” she grumbled, standing to put the kit back in its place.

he grinned faintly, flexing his fingers against the bandage. “yeah, but you’re still patchin’ me up, aren’t you?”

she glanced over her shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line. “someone has to.”

he stood, his frame filling the small kitchen as he neared the door.

“harry?”

he glanced back, his eyes soft as he looked at her expectantly.

“please be careful.”

his jaw clenched before he managed a tight nod, and then the door clicked shut behind him, leaving YN alone in the silence, the weight of his words—and his presence—lingering in the air.

it was thursday again, and the walk back from their evening lecture became an unspoken agreement.

it wasn’t something they talked about—there were no texts exchanged or plans made. but every tuesday and thursday, as the evening classes let out, they’d meet by the lecture hall’s exit. sometimes harry would already be there, leaning against the wall, pretending he wasn’t waiting. other times, YN would hang back near the doors, scrolling through her phone until she saw him.

tonight was no different.

harry was already outside when she came out of her bio lab, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hair a little messy from tying and retying it during the experiment. he fell into step beside her as they turned toward home, his bandaged hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his backpack slung low over one shoulder.

“that bad?” he asked, glancing at her as she adjusted her strap.

she sighed, shaking her head. “some idiot forgot to label their samples, so the whole lab got an extra hour of let’s go over the basics again.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you lot are a buncha losers, huh?”

“says the guy who’s probably failing chem,” she shot back, grinning.

he shrugged, unbothered—simply because it wasn’t true. “aggressively coasting.” he corrected.

what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

she rolled her eyes, giggling despite herself. the conversation drifted, easy and familiar, as they made their way through campus.

it was when they turned onto the last block before their building that harry stopped.

she noticed it immediately—the way his body went still, his eyes narrowing as they flicked to the other side of the street.

a man stood there, leaning against a lamppost, his hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy coat. he wasn’t doing anything—not technically—but there was something about the way he stared at the building’s exit that set harry on edge.

“go inside.”

she frowned, looking at him. “what?”

harry’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the man across the street. “just go inside, YN.”

her confusion deepened as she followed his gaze. “harry, what’s going on?”

he turned to her then, his expression sharper than she’d ever seen it. “i said go the fuck inside.” he snapped, his voice low, biting—the words cutting through the cool evening air like glass.

she flinched, her eyes widening slightly. but before she could say anything, harry was already crossing the street, his shoulders squared and his hands shoved into his pockets.

she stayed where she was, her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold.

harry approached the man with a deliberate calm, his posture loose but his movements sharp. she couldn’t hear the first thing he said, but the man straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing as he looked harry up and down.

the conversation wasn’t loud, but it was tense—harry’s voice low, steady, while the man’s tone was sharper, more aggressive.

she could only catch snippets.

the man stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides, and for a moment, YN thought it was going to escalate. but harry didn’t flinch. he held his ground, his voice even as he spoke again.

finally, the man pulled something from his pocket—a small bag, crumpled and poorly sealed—and shoved it into harry’s hand. he gave him a look, muttering something under his breath before turning on his heel.

he crossed the street, his shoulders tense, his face hard as stone. when he reached YN, he brushed past her—his shoulder catching hers, a silent signal that screamed follow me.

she hesitated, but only for a second before trailing after him. he didn’t look back as he pushed through the front door of their building, letting it slam shut behind them.

the silence between them stretched thin as they climbed the stairs, harry taking them two at a time, YN struggling to keep up with his longer stride.

“harry,” she started, her breath slightly uneven, “what the hell just happened?”

he didn’t answer, his hand gripping the stairwell railing tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.

“don’t ignore me,” she pressed, her voice sharper now. “who was that guy? why were you acting like—”

“drop it, YN.” he muttered, his voice sharp and clipped, but she wasn’t having it.

“no, i’m not dropping it!” she snapped, her tone cutting through the empty stairwell. “you don’t get to just walk away from this without explaining. i saw the way you looked at him. you knew him, didn’t you?”

he reached their floor and stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, his back still to her.

“you knew he was trouble the second you saw him,” she continued, stepping closer. “so tell me why, harry. what’s going on—are you okay?”

he turned then, spinning on his heel so fast that she nearly bumped into him. his eyes were clouded, sharp, and for a moment, the force of his glare made her breath catch. “s’not your fucking concern, YN.” he spat, his voice cold and low, each word biting like frost. “it’s not like we’re friends. so just fucking stop.”

she froze mid-sentence, her jaw slack as the words sank in.

harry’s breathing was uneven, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t look away.

she closed her mouth, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes stayed locked on his. after a long pause, she gave a single, curt nod. “got it.”

her voice was quiet but sharp, like the edge of a knife.

she stepped around him, her gaze never wavering as she turned toward her unit. the weight of her presence lingered, heavy and unforgiving, even as she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

he stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. his chest felt tight, his fists still clenched, but he didn’t move. he didn’t look for her.

because if he had, he would’ve followed her. and he wasn’t sure what he’d say—or if it would even make a difference.

[theallyandhisbeast]

About bucktommy and 911 in general

You know, in the end, this just feels extremely cheap and cruel.

Showing bucktommy be incandescently happy in all the episodes but 8.6? Even in this ep you can feel how much they care and genuinely love each other. Audience was largely optimistic and excited about them, in a way we have never seen for other buck's LI.

Only to what? Throw it all away because you can't be bothered to write a satisfactory arc for them? Because Buck is the epitome of the guy who dates a lot but always gets broken up with? That to be able to decide if you want to be in a committed relationship if you are bi you have to explore first or else your decision is null and void?

What a way to waste potential and your characters arc.

The special thing about Tommy was that he was beloved by not only bucktommy fans, but GA, and most importantly he was a sort of representation we don't see all that much in media. People loved him because they saw themselves in him, they could connect to his journey and they were genuinely rooting for him to find love and family with Buck. To waste it all away, and to do so by basically throw at us all that we loved about them is unnecessarily cruel.

What hurts the most is that even buck and tommy themselves didn't want to break up. but instead they "must" because bowing down to harmful stereotypes about bi people who are "confused and so they must experiment before settling" is more important than telling a compelling story.

Even without bt break up, I feel like this season took a sharp dive for the worst about well thought storylines in a way that baffles him. Gerrard was reduced to a joke, as was Ortiz, both pgs that could have been used to create compelling arcs that intertwined the 118 even more but instead we got this cheap throwaway joke of a Gerrard, Ortiz was basically throw out of office in a single ep. Hotshot sl could have been fun but instead it's just.... there. And coming back too just for funsies, cause apparently that sl was more important to develop instead of a interesting queer relationship.

Athena once again doing copaganda. Bobby coming back to the 118 without any particular struggle or even guilt about dropping the bag. Things said in interviews that we expect to happen and never even made it to the screen (Eddie's loneliness? Chim and Hen having conflict over Mara? Buck feeling guilty about injuring Gerrard?).

The way Maddie cannot have any sl that is not either tied to a man or about motherhood. Madney having another surprise baby instead of them choosing on purpose to expand their family. Hen & Karen gaining trauma after trauma about their children and not having any other sl that is not tied to that. Josh just existing in the periphery and only becoming important as the "insightful token gay" but not having any type of meaningful screen time since Carson.

The other side characters like Sue, Ravi, Linda, Carla completely disappearing without anyone mentioning them. Ravi has not been given any important sl ever since he talked about having cancer and ever since reduced as a comic relief without anything to add to his character but he's a "landlord".

Chris is out of the picture for who knows how long, and is basically kept around to be traumatized over and over again. Eddie hasn't gotten any character development until first s5 and seemingly now, but i'd argue that the whole thing just felt rushed because what do you mean it takes one chat with a priest for him to do a 180° while he still isn't talking to Chris? And Eddie was the one who got the best treatment of all of them this season.

It's the way this show is slowly chipping itself away. It's the way they start a queer story line promising it would be impactful and handled with care and then half-assing it a best. It's the way the other queer characters are never explored and able to breath and revel in their queerness in the first place. Because, really, when was the last time Hen and Karen kissed on screen? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time their arcs were not about children or getting hurt, but just about them as individuals? And on this thread what about Maddie? Or Josh? Or Chim? Or Eddie?

Everything feels reused again and again and again without no real development than then starting the circle all over in half a season.

What a waste.

[unbloodiedmartyr]

i also have feelings about how, in their final scene, Shrue rejects the violence done to them through Carson's manipulation of the institution of family but almost in the same breath attempts to use family as a bargaining chip against brother philly

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree, a high fantasy adventure of first love and secondhand books set prior to the events of New York Times bestseller Legends & Lattes.

The art featured in this image is by Carson Daniel Lowmiller.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Viv's career with the notorious mercenary company Rackam's Ravens isn't going super great. When she suffers a dread injury during the hunt for a powerful necromancer, the Ravens pack her off for some obligatory and undesired R&R. 

The sleepy beach town of Murk is relaxing, but so far from anything resembling excitement or action that she worries she’ll never get back in the game. Instead, this down-on-her-luck soldier of fortune starts whiling away her many free hours at a beleaguered bookshop and in the company of its foul-mouthed proprietor. 

We don’t always know what we need, or which small choices change the paths of our lives. 

And adventure isn’t so far from Murk as Viv thinks! A suspicious traveler in gray, a gnome with a chip on her shoulder, a summer fling, and an improbable number of skeletons would like a word. 

[forthelorewick]

All the Wrong Ways to Know You

Chapter 1: The Echo of Familiarity

| masterlist | next chap >

Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter summary:

WC 3.4k - Returning to your hometown for a fresh start, you are determined to rebuild your life on your own terms. With a new major, new apartment, and new friends, everything feels just unfamiliar enough to be hopeful. You're focused, self-contained, and intent on staying out of trouble. But the past isn't always behind you. You had ended things so you could focus on school with no distractions, but you couldn't get him off of your mind. Turns out, the universe has a cruel twist of fate waiting for you in Carson Hall Room 202- PHIL 205.

Chapter content/ warnings:

light angst, allusions to sexual content, allusions to family/religious trauma, making friends, a little bit of immaturity, college stuff, use of nicknames, etc.

Late August

Orientation week was a blur of ID badges, broken vending machines, and crumpled campus maps that somehow made everything harder to find.

It had been almost two years since you’d sat in a classroom. Long enough for your confidence to fray at the edges, but not long enough for the habit of proving people wrong to go anywhere.

Transfer student. Political Science major. Philosophy minor. You loved the look of your schedule.

A girl with ambition, a sharp tongue, and a very clear idea of what she wasn’t going to waste her time on anymore. You had had time to think about this. To save, fester, plan. And maybe it wasn’t cut and dry, there wasn’t any guarantee you’d get the career you were aspiring for. But to hell with everything if you weren’t at least going to try. And if it took you a little longer, you’d figured it out before and you could do it again. You’re a survivor, you always have a backup plan... and a back up plan of your back up plan.

For now, though… you were going to try to enjoy school. Try not to burn out while working weekends and doing your best to keep your mind clear from distractions. Friends were a necessity in order for your survival. To find classes, to work through assignments… you had already made a few whilst wandering campus over the last week or so. Similar majors, overlapping classes, similar interests… you had been your most outgoing self you could be, and it seemed to be paying off as you walked side by side with a girl from Tampa.

You’d wondered why this university, of all places, had such a strong reputation. Apparently, it was one of the better schools in the state for Political Science, especially if you were aiming for law school afterward. That was a lucky coincidence. To you, it had just been the hometown fallback. The affordable, familiar option. But you figured every local university probably felt that way to the people who grew up around it… ordinary, until it wasn’t.

She talked fast, the girl from Tampa. Political Science too, with a double minor in… something you kept forgetting. Add in a double shot of espresso and a third minor she was still toying with, and she was basically a walking academic crisis with good shoes. You liked her. She had opinions. You had sarcasm. It worked.

There was another one of the group, Jamie, from Austin, Texas. A little quieter, dry sense of humor, always a book for fun in his hand and chipped black nail polish. You hadn’t hung out much outside of orientation, but he seemed cool, relaxed. The kind of classmate you wouldn’t mind teaming up with for group projects, and that said a lot. He was quick with retorts, kept Tampa on her toes.

That was what you called her, just Tampa. Her real name was Ava, but even after just a few short weeks, the nickname stuck. She tried playing the name game with you and Jamie, but with both of you being from Texas, that didn’t exactly narrow things down. Then she found out you’d spent a couple years at Vanderbilt and started calling you just that—Vanderbilt… shortened to Van. Jamie became Austin. And suddenly, that was your group.

Tampa, Austin, and Van.

They made you laugh like you’d never known you could laugh before. Like the weight of the world wasn’t on your shoulders, like your chest could actually open without everything spilling out. And that’s how you knew everything was going to be okay.

Tampa’s minor was something like Political Psychology with a dash of Gender Studies. Austin’s was “existential dread, probably,” according to him. You had philosophy as your only minor at the moment, but were thinking of adding some English courses next semester if you could get your academic advisor to swing it for you. The core was Poli Sci and the mission was clear: keep your GPA clean, your weekends open for work, and your head out of the clouds.

Which was hard, because you were starting to like it here.

The three of you weren’t so much navigating campus as you were surviving it.

Tampa had three different maps, two highlighters, and no sense of direction. Austin had Google Maps as if that would help on a college campus and zero urgency. You had a schedule burned into your brain and a growing suspicion you were going to end up as the unofficial mom friend whether you liked it or not.

“Okay, it’s gotta be this way,” Tampa held her phone like a compass. “Or maybe this way?”

“You said that three minutes ago,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but the sun moved.”

You blinked. “It’s ten a.m. this isn’t a treasure map…” you take the map from her hand and she sighs in defeat. You flip it over and shake your head. “Darlin’, you had it upside down. You’re lucky we have this class together or else I’d just tell you how to get there and pray you make it in time.”

She liked your nicknames, in addition to Tampa. You could tell by the way she tried not to smile every time you used one… and that’s why you kept doing it. You liked making her smile.

It had been a long time since you’d felt this kind of affection for friends. Probably not since high school. And now that you thought about it… Tampa and Austin were both a few years younger than you. Not by much, but enough. You slipped into a slightly maternal role without meaning to. Just enough to boss them around and call it love. You knew already that you loved them, it didn’t take much for you to identify that feeling. It’s something you just know.

Austin didn’t look up from his iced coffee. “Should’ve gone with my route.”

“Yes, very helpful, Austin, thank you.” You herd them like cattle in the right direction.

“Consistent landmarks are important for building spatial memory,” it was deadpan, with a hint of sass and you just shake your head.

You gave him a flat look. “We’re not on a pilgrimage.”

You found the right room eventually… after one wrong floor, two locked doors, and a brief, silent existential moment in front of a vending machine that only took exact change. You had asked someone who seemed like they knew where they were going and they told you where to go.

The campus had these weird little moments of quiet… tree-shaded benches, humming bike paths, buildings that smelled like dusty books and new beginnings. It wasn’t Vanderbilt, and it wasn’t where you thought you’d be by now. But it was something.

You were building your own rhythm again. Finding a purpose in every step. Highlighting your planner like it might save your life. Forever grateful that you lived off campus.

But you had forgotten how loud your hometown could be since you’d been back.

Not in the big city way. The traffic was nothing in comparison, and there were no towering buildings to catch your reflection in. Just the sharp whine of cicadas in the trees, the occasional bark of a dog left out too long, the buzz of lawnmowers that always seemed to fire up at the worst possible moment.

You’d grown up thinking of this place as a waiting room. Just somewhere to pass through until real life started. But now, being back… it wasn’t exactly the same. You weren’t the same.

There were new buildings tucked into familiar streets. Your old high school had a digital sign now. The grocery store near your apartment sold kombucha and vegan food. Everything had shifted just enough to feel like a memory wearing new clothes.

And yet, there were moments… small ones, where something deeper tugged at you.

A song playing faintly from a passing car. The scent of cedar and rain-soaked pavement. The glint of heat off a truck hood that made your stomach twist before you could catch yourself.

A handsome stranger lingered in your mind. A summer memory, a summer fling. That was all.

But sometimes…when the air got thick and your chest felt too tight, you thought of him.

That reckless freedom. That dangerous calm. The strange safety you felt in his arms even though you barely knew each other, just how it felt. And you had felt so much.

You hadn’t told your new friends anything. There wasn’t anything to tell, really.

It had ended over a month ago. A silent end to something indiscernible, something that could’ve been. But you both knew it shouldn’t. You’d stopped answering his texts to come over. You had to focus on getting ready for school. You couldn’t afford the distraction. As wonderful as being in his arms… or under him had been. You didn’t have the time or energy to spare that it would have cost to figure it out. And it fucking sucked. You hated to admit that you missed him, you couldn’t help but wonder if he missed you, too. You doubted you could be missed, and that helped you try to move on.

“Okay,” Tampa announced, dropping her tray onto the table beside yours with unnecessary force, breaking you from your train of thought, “how is it only Tuesday?”

You grinned around your straw. “Because time isn’t real, and it slows down when it’s boring.”

Austin slid into the seat across from you, still reading something on his phone. “She’s right, you know. The week is fake. Deadlines are a psyop.”

Tampa sighed, feigning disappointment at the two of you. “Do either of you ever just say things normally?”

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Besides,” Austin added without looking up, “Van’s not wrong. Time is fake. College is just expensive roleplay.”

You tapped the table twice like a gavel. “And I’m playing the girl who herds the directionally challenged sheep.”

“And you’re doing amazing, sweetie,” it was deadpan, but you could tell it was sincere. She was just tired of you two already, but in the best way you could be. Tired and comfortable of your friends’ shenanigans.

You winked. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’ll get there.”

══════════════════════

You learned three things on Tuesday in addition to the info dumps for classes you’d had.

1. Tampa really should never be allowed to navigate. Or estimate vicinity. She really couldn't get back to a place she’d already been without guidance. Directionally challenged was an understatement.

2. Austin was a conspiracy theorist about anything. Automatic doors, squirrels and birds, random things you couldn’t even begin to list.

3. You were not, in fact, immune to back-to-back classes with buildings on opposite ends of campus.

“You said the Humanities building was next to the library,” you gasped as you jogged to catch up. Not that you were that out of shape but holy hell… maybe you needed to do more cardio.

Tampa glanced over her shoulder, completely unbothered. “Next-ish.”

“It’s three blocks away!”

“That’s a you problem, for not keeping up!” Austin called back to you, not breaking his stride.

“Ugh, you young people…” you mutter under your breath ironically, but Austin heard you and stuck his tongue out in response.

You caught up just in time to hear him mutter something under his breath about a squirrel being “a surveillance asset,” as it ran across the sidewalk, which honestly didn’t even rank top five in the weirdest things he’d said today. It would take some adjustment.

You made it to class with thirty seconds to spare, with just long enough to collapse into a seat, hair sticking to your temple, dignity somewhere back near the root of a tree you’d tripped on and caught yourself from falling over. You thought you’d had been graceful with your near wipe out, but Tampa simply shook her head whilst biting back a laugh.

After class, the three of you regrouped outside under the nearest shade tree, because Texas heat was no joke and none of you had fully recovered from being chased down by a rogue golf cart earlier on your way to class. But you hadn’t had time to debrief the situation before.

“Campus security should not have that much power,” Tampa fanned herself with her notebook.

“We were barely even on the grass,” Austin swung his arms dramatically, emphasizing his point as he pointed to the distance you three had run on the grass. “It was your idea, Van. Didn’t you know the grass rule?”

You took a long sip of water, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed at nothing in particular. “No, we were fully running on the grass, Austin, let’s not kid ourselves. And sure… but it was a short cut… we were almost late. They may have a golf cart…. But we have youth. I liked our odds.”

They both stared at you.

“What?” you had a toothy, cocky grin on your face, “I’m just saying…. if it comes to a fight, I’m winning.”

Austin snorted. “You’re like five-five.”

“And emotionally resilient,” you shot back. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Tampa bumped your shoulder with hers and giggled. “God, you’re insufferable.”

You simply shrug, a toothy grin still plastered on your face. “I’m a rule follower when it actually means something, alright? I’d never lead you into trouble.” You cross your heart in a silent promise.

They gave you back some of your youthfulness you’d had to stifle for so long. You felt free again… in a way.

It was such a juxtaposition to what you’d gone through the past four years. It was refreshing to be so truly yourself. So carefree and able to simply enjoy time with people who enjoyed time with you.

══════════════════════

The next morning you didn’t have class until ten, but you were already on campus by eight.

Old habits. Plus, you liked walking the quad before it was filled with bodies.

Tampa had something early in the science wing. Austin was off in whatever building they kept the social theorists in. You didn’t see either of them until just after your 10 a.m. let out, when you ran into Tampa outside the bookstore.

“Okay,” she said, linking her arm with yours. “I need a snack, and you need a coffee. You look like you almost understood what just happened in there.”

“I did,” you nod your head and purse your lips as you ponder the dump of information on the first day of classes. The overview of ‘this is everything we’ll have to cover over the next 15 weeks!’ It wrecked your brain as you plot just how you’re going to get ahead. “I just refuse to acknowledge it for today.” And you nod your head, finalizing your decision in your mind with that.

She laughed and pulled you toward the student union. “It’s fine. I barely know what day it is.”

“Wednesday.”

“Don’t ruin this for me.”

After you and Tampa finish eating, the two of you make your way toward your next class. You spot Austin waiting at the bottom of the concrete stairs outside the student union, leaning casually against the railing with his usual iced coffee in hand.

He catches your eye and shoots you a wink before falling in step beside you.

As you all climb the stairs toward Carson Hall, Tampa side-eyes the building like it’s already offended her. “Is it just me or do the philosophy buildings feel like a murder mystery waiting to happen?”

Austin nodded solemnly. “Like at any moment someone in a turtleneck’s going to scream ‘epistemology!’ and keel over.”

“I’ve never been in here before,” you adjust your bag on your shoulders, stretching your back as you haul the heavy books across campus. “All my classes so far have been in the poli sci wing or the one next to it the uhh..” you snap your fingers trying to remember the name and shake your head at your momentary loss of brain power, man, the week was already getting to you…“the humanities building.”

“Well,” Tampa adjusted her sunglasses dramatically, “welcome to the land of sad couches and morally grey men.”

Austin hummed. “Speaking of… have you heard about our professor for Phil-205?”

You blinked, arching a brow at the clearly ‘exciting’ news he’d heard about a professor, which really meant any mild drama that spreads through campus. “No?”

He gave you a look, like he was about to drop gossip that could start a religion. “Professor Miller.” He said it as if it meant something. “Rumor is he’s hot in that angry man, ‘will-argue-about-Kant-at-a-bar’ kind of way.”

Tampa smirked. “Sounds like the kind of man who’s been divorced twice and still thinks therapy is a scam.”

“I’d hit,” Austin said it so plainly you had to scoff.

You pushed the door open and laughed at their antics. “You two are so dramatic. He’s our philosophy professor. Watch your damn morals. People always get over excited about a semi-attractive professor. Just behave.”

Tampa slid in behind you. “You love us and our moral greys.”

You did. “Yeah yeah, behave, children.” You repeat it, directed at Austin, emphasizing that you are talking to him.

Carson Hall, Room 202, looked like every other aging lecture space—scuffed floors, humming overhead lights, and desks that clearly hadn’t been replaced since the Obama administration.

You, Tampa, and Austin slid into the middle row like you’d done it a hundred times. You dropped your bag at your feet, settled your notebook into place, and leaned over to steal one of Tampa’s highlighters without asking.

“Rude,” she muttered.

“I’m cute,” you whispered back.

She nods her head in reluctant agreement and sighs deeply before stifling a giggle.

Austin leaned in between the two of you. “Okay, but if this guy’s as hot as everyone says, I will be making bad decisions.”

You push him gently on the shoulder and tsk your tongue in disapproval. “You better behave, kid.”

The professor was already at the front of the room, his back turned as he sorted through a stack of folders on the desk. He hadn’t spoken yet. The energy in the room was neutral… typical first week fog of getting through syllabuses and getting the first assignments.

You weren’t paying attention. Not really. Your focus was on your friends, on whether or not your pen was going to start leaking, and on remembering to grab almond milk later, on whether or not they were coming over for a study session, on finally having guests over at your apartment.

The classroom buzzed with the usual back-to-campus energy. Students finding seats, notebooks cracking open, someone sipping too loudly from an iced coffee.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Your body reacted like it heard a whistle only you could hear, pitched to some private, buried frequency your body instantly remembered. Instantly attentive to its source. That voice. That drawl.

Your heart seized.

And then he stood up.

Straightened.

His back was to the room as he scribbled Miller on the whiteboard. And then he turned, his eyes scanning the room as any professor would do when addressing a classroom full of students.

Then you locked eyes.

One beat.

Two.

He blinked. You blinked back. And just like that, the color drained from both your faces.

You could see it in his… recognition, horror, and something else underneath it. Something hotter. Something sharp. Only there for a split second, but you saw it. He recovered almost instantly, leaving you reeling in your seat.

He worked in construction. What the hell was he doing here? Dressed up in a dress shirt and tie… slacks… your body roved over him as you swallowed thickly.

Images of a work jacket hanging up with the Miller logo… you thought it was just the name of the construction company he worked for. Not that it was his name. It was a common enough name, how the hell were you supposed to know? He never explicitly told you his last name.

Then again, he didn’t know your real name, either. He couldn’t have looked at the roster and recognized yours.

You watch him, barely a twitch of the jaw in response your presence, but you saw a slight tremble in his hand, then he quickly shook off.

“Good afternoon,” his voice was even and professional. “I’m Professor Miller.” He motioned his hand back towards the blackboard where he had written his name.

You sat frozen in your seat, heart pounding so loud you were sure someone could hear it.

Professor Miller.

The man who’d once made you breakfast shirtless, who’d kissed you like you were more than just a fling, who would hold you just a little longer before you had to go… who’d learned your body more in one summer than you had your entire life… who had given you flannels in rotation with one still sitting in your bed for when you think of him at night… who would text you when he was needy… pictures of him in your secret camera roll for safekeeping… who would bathe with you and wash your body… who was now standing ten feet away with a syllabus in his hand and your entire summer in his eyes.

══════════════════════✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 ══════════════════════

Welcome to… whatever the hell this is. I always hated the intentionality of professor fics where she’s already a student when they hook up, etc. etc. I wanted something hot and heavy, unintentional and just plain messy. Grounds for a fallout and then a slow burn. Let’s go!

He teaches ethics, c’mon!

[sjw-publishings]

Lit Gud Streamin

With much encouragement from @dumb-and-jocked

>First Time Streamin’ bro?

The house husband blushed at the first comment coming to respond to him.

Carson Green was anxious…he’d heard of streaming but never tried it until some pestering from his Gaymer group as of late.

The stay at home husband wanted to help with the finances, hence why he even considered it in the first place. Sure it was nice being a homemaker, and definitely had a flair in cooking, but he wanted to do something different.

“Y…Yeah, it’s my first time.”

>LOL K

He was relatively unsure of this, but he had known and spoken to several of the guys a week ago, and though he could have sworn they talked about a different topic entirely, he recalled about many of them bragging about ‘raking in the dough’ for gaming.

True enough, many of them are not only being paid handsomely in royalties for streaming, but they have a surprisingly large fanbase!

Admittedly, he was sort of shocked…and sort of jealousy that many of them are quite popular online, almost like they reached stardom within a week or less.

But regardless, his group also promised that they will help out with ‘assimilating’ him into the platform and moderate his stream. So surely he would reach a certain level of success with their guidance.

Though he’s still unsure how exactly will do they so.

“W…What games will we be playing?”

>Dis the game dude

>Ur in it, brought in da Boiz to watch the stream.

With that, the number count rose exponentially, from single digits, to doubles.

The house husband blushed, twiddling his thumbs at being watched by wide audience. Is it like a reality show game? Or is it something different entirely?

Granted, there weren’t any instructions or briefings given about it. Maybe it is a more on the spot, spontaneous kind of thing?

“D…Do I need to do anything in particular?”

>Just be yourself , LOL

>You gotta impress us Noob.

He…kind of doesn’t like being called a noob, but he is new to streaming after all. So he ought to listen to them, no matter how they are like.

>Dude, ur Tagline?

Tagline…?

Oh yeah! All the cool streamers he watched had one.

Wait? Since when did he watch…well he is a gamer after all, so it’s only natural that he DID watch streams, at least some of em by proxy. He is rather connected to the other guys.

“Ummm…ok LOL, what kind of tagline. Do you all have any suggestions, dudes?”

>Just Lit Gud man.

>Yeah RAT

He thought maybe it’s tough love or something…though it really feels extremely rude. Almost draining even, like yeah it was exhausting trying to keep up with his group’s gaming shenanigans, but even in their streamin’ advice?

C’mon Man!

Plus he’s just got married not a while ago! They could’ve at least be NICE to him since he’s now tied down! Like don’t get me wrong, he loves his husbro, but when all is said and done, he does miss the glory days of being with the rest of the guys.

“Look, I-D-K if Lit Gud Noobs is such a nice tagline?”

Desperate for a win here. Yeah, he may be getting quite aggro. But it’s justified! Bro.

“And who you callin’ Rat, RATZ!”

His mouth slurred at that remark, a very sleazy…immature slur as he quickly covered his mouth in that regard.

Though admittedly, he kinda liked that.

After all, if he was the rat, then these noobs are his goons. And while he usually isn’t the dominant one in his relationships, admittedly he kinda liked roleplaying as one of the typical bros, even if he wasn’t THAT asian compared to them.

>RAT BOD

>You lift Bro?

“My body…its not that well off-“

>Get lit or get Shyt on

He’s gotta get LIT.

Watching as his weight sizzle away down, melting away the bubbling tummy fat into a faint trail of a six pack, straining loosely on the shirt being his college grad pectorals.

Gotta show off after all. Specially during the bachelor’s party!

His diet consisted of pizza, soda and chips. And so ducking what? Body trim as DUCK, that’s how he lived and how his rats loved it. Some people said it was his GENE-tics or some shit that he had this bod, but you know what he says to em’?

Get lit or get Shyt on!

But even so, da shyt? Why did these bastards gotta treat him like that? Weren’t they all buds or somethin’?

“You RATZ are always so rude.”

>We rude? KAPPA

>Haha Noob!

With every interaction and vocabulary pollution, hunching lazily towards the screen, eyes entranced by the masses of comments.

LIGHTING and EMPHASIZIN’ random words, like an obnoxious mixture tainting his patience. Persistent name calling and being on the receiving end of the relationship kinda pisses him off.

>LOL K, How’s the stream?

But admittedly, a growing part of him is really getting pumped, while irritated, a small part of him liked broadcasting to these gamers.

If only they had some MAN-NERS, sheesh!

“How the streamin’ goin? Dude IDK, just a Jerkin’ stream today, nothin but insults.”

> Git Gud

> Just Git Gud

> Noob

Chat, filled with your run of the mill, cloned responses. Your typical mocks and insults, passive threading onto aggressive, a fine balance of being slightly very aggro but chill, producing RUDE DUCKIN’ INSULTS.

Each one after another, a shytposting blend that makes the stupid obnoxiousness rise higher and higher. Calves toning out from jumping upwards in sports as his body shrunk downward, making sure he sees eye to eye with dem BOIZ.

One liner aggressiveness alongside swarms of memes and complete nonsense. Idiotic behaviour, fitting a ‘RatChat’. Blending in with the other dudes, speakin’ their language, participating campus exercises and roughing around with the other bros!

Like a game, course, they are gamers after all. They know the COMBO, dissecting their streamer bud like it’s nothin’! Insults kicking right from the beginning!

He wanted to beat them at their own game!

Be hetter-BETTER! Calson Greo wanted to be a PRO.

“Alright RATZ, What’ll make me less of a noob and g-”

>Git Gud Noob

“GIT GUD?”

His voice slurred, eyebrows raised as he slumped back in his gaming chair. Like a simple command burning into his skull.

He just gotta GIT GUD! No instructions needed, except you gotta be IN DA LOOP. At TOP! As his buttocks clenched at the refusal of being BOT! Cheeks meant for exercise and gamin’.

He had to GIT GUD! And that’s being on top of his game always!

>You gotta be LIT Fam

“LIT?”

A delicious fuming rage erupted from his screen, as a multitude of laughing frogs and emojis filled his entire chat.

Igniting a fire within, his skin tanning till its just RIGHT. Made for a BOI who spends time gamin’ both online and in sports. Just like every other of his classmates back on campus.

>Stop being such a QUEER

“QUEER? Da SHYT?”

SHYT, these men tryin’ to get under his skin. Really making him all pent and rock solid. NO HOMO!

Wait WUT?

DUDE! LIEK…man he’s really even sounding immature in his thoughts? Wasn’t he some sort of QUEER? DA FK? He was g…a…guy, A GUY! YEAH! He was a guy like em!

“Thought you all stand for GUY RIGHTS?”

HE ALWAYS TOPS! Yeah so maybe he had a PHAG, but it was clear they are ‘sabotaging’ his GAY STREAM and tryin’ makin’ it the way it ought to be!

Full of SHYT-talkin’, assholes are dragging him down to THEIR level. A more rodent, nastier bunch instead of friendly GHEYS! But alright! If these idiots want to game, then they gonna-

>Look PHAG, if you want to WIN you gotta stop sucking

“SUK DEEZ NUTS!”

GOTTEM

An obnoxious Tenor bursted out from the man, retaliating like an immature douchebag as he finally sunk to their level. Height stooping at an average 5ft 9, GPA scores barely scrapping by the median. A fellow backslider like the crowd.

And HE was going to let these DOUCHEBOIS get it HARD!

>Just Chillax Gay Boi

“I AM CHILLAX!”

He sneered, as his voice rose into a stupidly obnoxious loud tenor, allowing that youthful tone engulf him in an asian tan like his peers, makin’ sure he is part of the Hivemind that is Snitch culture.

“No Sweats allowed…Just CHILLAX man…”

Feeling his mind sinking into the mass rebellious conformity that is his gamin’ community, his voice cooled slightly, gifted the flexibility to yell when he WANTS to BOIIII!

His buttoned down fused, as the simple white tee clung over his frame with slackened glee, bluntly accentuating his pectorals, as a typical print was plastered over like another typical meshed up shirt that the zoomers would wear.

He was NO SWEAT, Trousers shortening up to his thighs, lightening up into a more mesh, flexible material. Hanging loose L-sized on his waist are his flaming red basketball shorts, stickin’ out like a sore thumb whenever the dude stands up or goes for a bathroom breaks.

>Yo streamer, you a player?

“Am I a play-yer?”

The young man slurred, smirking as he acknowledged that remark, teasing those thirsty PHAGS and RATZ like he always does.

ResidentSnorer and various funny frogs spammed the chat box like no other, skyrocketing his view count to the thousands.

The young Boi loved every minute of it. He was getting the fame, boi.

“Course I am, ain’t easy being this good…”

>u dating someone?

“DAY-TING?”

Slippers took a hit in their quality, soft material becoming a pair of stretchable basketball shoes. Made for the kind of guy who keeps his options open.

Both in da basketball court, and in da bed. And yeah, it was technically his home. Well, he and his GAY fiancé’s. But it’s mostly a BRO thing! Roommates with benefits!

“Boiz, I have a fiancé , but..”

>Sounds Sus

>you gay or what?

His eyes widened, SHYT, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Not that he minded the older man…except when he was being GHEY-but weren’t they a couple…of MEN.

But aren’t they together? Da SHYT! He was a playah! BUT what about that time when they cuddled-BRUH that’s GHEY! BUT WHAT ABOUT-YOU GHEY BROSKI? BRO? B-

“BUTT-FK! I mean…I MEAN my BOI-FRIEND!”

>MEGAFAG

Fiddling the ring, the band stretched beyond the size of his palm, turning into pure eleastic as it slid down his right wrist, loosely fitting like its part of some showoffy trend.

As the chat continues to spam various emotes, including a distinct rainbow head, don’t these douchebags know he’s single and ready to mingle? Why are they thinkin’ he’s gonna be bangin’ it with some dude?

“Who you noobs calling GAY? It’s just ONE night!”

> QUEER ALERT!

> GAY GAY GAY

One hand palming below, the other one flippin the stream. Colson Groh’s darkened hair flicked down the side, his new asian ethnicity fully taking hold without remorse, blending in with the group of bullies pickin’ on him and his-FAG!

“One night of PRANKIN FAGS!”

Picking on em hard, he wasn’t one of em, but man is it HOT setting them STRAIGHT! The twenty two year college dude smirked, as PHAGS couldn’t resist starin’ at his clean-shaven slack-jaw and risen cheekbones till they get completely RAT PRANKED.

GGEZ

>Ayyy LIT

>Lets go BOI

>AFKin’ RAT!

“Bet you all can’t get ladies to your doorstep.”

>Check GayPay

GayPay my arse, StraightCoin’s the deal bro.

Though speakin’ of ladies. Hot damn…is he THAT dry? Cause he’s having that fantasy every straight, gamin’ charged college guy’s has.

Surrounded by hot ladies.

Then again, he’s always THIRSTIN’. Course, a guy like him can get a bunch of women in a flash. But he totally can jerk like a maiden-less douchebag like a bunch of the idiots watchin’ him.

Makes him relatable to his RATZ, yeah? Sides, nothin’ wrong with a lil jerkin’ on cam, nothing GHEY bout it!

>Yo RAT, check out your numbers

>BRO past 7k

>NO CAP

LIT_GUD: +7k subs

“Nggh!”

Rapidly vibrating his 7 inch joystick, brows raised as they thinned out. The last bit of hesitation melting away, making way for youthful gamin’ bravado as a seedy wide grin beamed in the stream.

“How to LIT GUD getting chicks?”

>PRO-DUCTION BRO!

>GIT LIT STREAM!

>YEEEEAAAAH BOI!

Comments flooding all over his stream, a mass mindset and mentality calling all to pump. PUMP! Pumping his POG-O STICK to the MAX! The Go-To-Game for men of his kind.

The HIGH score, as his eyes narrowed in utmost dumb simplicity, tilting his head upward to the ceiling as he grinned wildly as he thought bout’ that simple fantasy!

All da LADIES comin’ at him. YAAA BOIII!

“JUST LIT GUD BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Colton Goh no scoped all over his boxers, slumping back as drops of youthful rebellion spluttered all over, mucking it with obnoxious bully testosterone like he always does.

Feels so LIT! Being able to climax whenever the heck he wants, why abstain when he can just LIT GUD MAN! All those goody two shoe brethren back at campus grounds are really missin’ out.

But of course, he’ll scoop the remaining wads of mayo to his jerk off bottle later. He may be a backslider, but he gotta be up in his production game, beat his last record and all that shiz.

Speakin’ of which.

“E….Z….”

7k’s still just rookie numbers for a guy like him, but considering he got it all in a bunch of hours, he’s as good as the pros like the rest of em’!

“Yo…and that’s how you dudes get the ladies, man.”

>AYYYOOOO

>MY STREAMER!

>YA BOIIIIII

“Boiz, if you see any gays going all homo on ya. You gotta give em the LIT GUD!”

Normally he would collab with his streaming buds, but he really oughta help his Bromies out by teachin em.

Especially ratting out GHEYS until they turn into a couple of rats like he is. And what better way than to create his own Streamin’ channel? All he got to do was be himself bro.

Brings in the subs, and sides, hot chicks dig him, and fags thirstin’ over him get weeded out until they are a bunch of rats like he and his gamer crew.

‘[TOP] Gay Dude Joined the stream’

Speaking of fags…

“Ayy, a new fag joined the stream, sweet.”

Not sure how did ‘Gay Dude’ squirmed into his ‘TOP’ friends list, but he must’ve added him during that stupid RNG game he tried last night while he drank Heteroade with the bois.

But honestly, heh, he doesn’t give a Rats arse bout em’. After all, he needed someone to dunk on to celebrate his 7k Subs, so why not make sure the fag gets the whole RatChat streamin’ experience?

Heh, this will be hot.

“Give em a couple of Lit Guds in the chat, noobs.”

[edgessunflower]

if you write for heartstopper(the graphic novels/show) I was wondering if you could do a femReader x tori spring? Just something sweet! A lil romantic ig lol

I can't find anything to do with heartstopper on any reading apps!!! 😭😭

Absolutely! I love heartstopper so much 🥺

For so long

Pairing: Tori Spring x Fem reader

Description: While listening to American movie soundtracks, it leads to a change between you and your best friend Tori

You smile as you and Tori sit on the floor in her bedroom with different snacks and drinks before looking up the soundtrack for E.T. The extra-terrestrial and listening to every song which leaves tori in awe. "That was amazing..let's find more!" you giggle as the two of you slowly listen to different movie soundtracks together from Casper, Final destination, and The outsiders to Star wars, Mulan, and Harry Potter until you guys started listening to the soundtrack for the movie Fluke, track 9 on the soundtrack made you tear up and slowly you were quietly crying as the song played, you calmed down while eating chips until tracks 13, 14, 16, and 18 made you cry more hiding your face in your hands as the tears flowed uncontrollably until you feel a hand on your wrist looking to see a teary eyed tori staring at you "I don't know why it just made me feel everything through the music" you both slowly calm down as the soundtrack for Final destination 2 starts playing. The two of you took a break and ate lunch downstairs with her brother Charlie and his boyfriend Nick who came over for the day, you joke around with the boys before going back upstairs with tori changing your clothes in the bathroom before continuing the rest of the final destination 2 soundtrack and a few other tracks before you put on Fall in the light by Graeme Revell and Lori Carson from the movie Strange days which was one of your favorite american movies after finding sets of american films from your grandmother and then more from your aunt and cousins falling in love with many of the movies you've seen especially Disney, romcom, and emotional films that changed how you saw films and acting. You notice as the song plays that tori was holding your hand which you had done together plenty of times but something about this hold was different, you notice how close the two of you were before you were nose to nose staring into each other's eyes until she closed the gap and the two of you were in a delicate and gentle kiss that felt different from the kisses you shared with two different boys one 6 months ago and the other two years earlier, you stare at her in awe as you caught your breath laying on the floor with her above you before you both giggled and got up in her bed switching from listening to music to watching movies together while laying wrapped in each other's arms. "I've had feelings for you for so long now" you both share another kiss before you ended up falling asleep an hour later not knowing that nick and charlie had walked in to find the two of you asleep smiling at each other knowing that the two of you had shared some kind of moment, a month later you announced to everyone you knew that two of you were together earning an outcome of support from both your families and friends only having to deal with a few bullies here and there but even despite that the two of you always prove no matter the hate that you deeply cared about each other.

[pupsmailbox]

STARTING WITH C

MASCULINE︰ cade. caden. caelan. caiden. cairo. cal. cale. caleb. caleb.. callahan. callan. callaway. callen. callum. calvin. cam. camden. camdyn. cameron. camilo. camron. cannon. carey. carl. carleton. carlos. carlton. carson. carter. cary. case. casey. cash. casimir. cason. casper. cassius. caulder. cavan. cayden. cayson. cecil. cedar. cedric. cesar. chace. chad. chadwick. chaim. chance. chandler. channing. charles. charley. charlie. charlton. chas. chase. chaz. chesley. chester. chet. chip. chris. christian. christie. christopher. chuck. chuckie. chucky. cillian. clair. clancy. clarence. clark. claud. claude. clay. clayton. clem. clement. cletis. cletus. cleve. cliff. clifford. clifton. clint. clinton. clive. clyde. cobie. cody. cohen. colbert. colby. cole. coleman. colin. collin. collins. collyn. colson. colt. colten. colter. colton. connell. conner. connor. conor. conrad. cooper. corbin. cordell. corey. cori. cornelius. cornell. corwin. cory. cosmo. coty. coy. craig. crawford. cree. creighton. crew. crispian. crispin. cristian. crofton. cruz. cullen. curran. curt. curtis. cuthbert. cy. cyan. cyril. cyrus.

FEMININE︰ cadence. caelie. cailin. calanthe. calanthia. caleigh. cali. callie. calliope. cam. camellia. cameron. camila. camilla. camille. camryn. candace. candi. candice. candy. candyce. capri. cara. careen. carey. carina. caris. carissa. carla. carlisa. carlisle. carly. carlyn. carmel. carmella. carmen. carol. carolina. caroline. carolyn. carrie. carter. casey. cass. cassandra. cassidy. cassie. cat. cataleya. catalina. catharine. catherine. cathleen. cathryn. cecelia. cecilia. cecily. cedar. celandine. celeste. celestine. celia. celinda. celine. chalice. chana. chandler. chanel. chanelle. channing. chantal. chantel. chantelle. chanté. charisma. charissa. charisse. charity. charla. charlee. charleen. charleigh. charlene. charley. charli. charlie. charlotte. charmaine. charnette. chasity. chastity. chaya. chelle. chelsea. chelsey. chelsie. cher. cherette. cheri. cherice. cherie. cherilyn. cherise. cherish. cherry. cherryl. cheryl. chesley. chevonne. cheyanne. cheyenne. chloe. chloë. chrissie. chrissy. christa. christabel. christabella. christabelle. christal. christen. christi. christiana. christie. christina. christine. christobel. christy. chrysanta. chrystal. ciara. cicely. ciera. cierra. cinda. cindi. cindra. cindy. claire. clara. clare. clarette. claribel. clarice. clarinda. clarissa. clarity. claudia. clematis. clemence. clemency. clementine. cleo. clover. coleen. colene. colette. colleen. collins. collyn. connie. constance. cora.

NEUTRAL︰ cab. cable. cache. cade. caden. cadence. cai. cal. callahan. callaway. callout. calm. camari. cambrian. camdyn. cameron. camille. camp. campbell. camren. camryn. candle. candy. cannon. canyon. captain. captor. carcass. carousel. carry. carsen. carsyn. carter. cartier. cas. cascade. case. casey. cash. casino. casket. casper. caspian. cassidy. castle. casual. cat. catalogue. cavalry. cave. cavity. cay. caydence. caylen. cedar. celeb. cement. cemetery. century. chain. chainsaw. chandler. channing. chaos. char. charge. charity. charleston. charley. charlie. charly. charm. chase. chayce. checkers. cheer. chemical. cherish. chernobyl. cherry. chevelle. chevy. chiffon. chilly. chip. chirp. chop. chosen. chozen. chris. chrome. chrysalis. chrysanthemum. church. cider. cidney. cinder. cinnamon. city. cj. clarity. clarke. classic. clay. clear. clementine. cliché. click. cliff. cloak. clock. closure. cloud. clover. clownery. cob. cobalt. cobolt. cobra. cocoa. code. codin. colby. colt. comatose. combat. conley. control. cookie. cooper. copeland. copper. cor. coral. corbyn. corduroy. core. corvette. cory. cosmic. count. court. courtesy. courtney. cove. coven. covet. coy. coyote. cradle. crane. crank. crash. cree. crest. crew. crime. crimson. crisis. critter. croc. crosby. cross. crow. crown. cruise. crush. crystal. cupcake. curse. cyan. cyber. cylinder. cypress. cécile.

[unboundprompts]

Character Name Ideas that Start With the Letter C

-> feel free to comment suggestions, I'll do my best to add them to the list.

Male:

Colton

Claude

Casimir

Chauncey

Calvin

Callahan

Cole

Cyrus

Caleb

Carson

Channing

Chase

Cody

Corbin

Conrad

Callum

Camden

Cortez

Castiel

Cristiano

Charles

Connor

Cash

Chance

Collin

Carver

Carsten

Camilo

Cassian

Colt

Cooper

Chaz

Caius

Cameron

Christopher

Cedric

Corwin

Crusoe

Cyprus

Cliff

Female:

Charlotte

Claudine

Colette

Claire

Cleo

Cherish

Cassiopeia

Celeste

Cora

Celine

Carina

Corinne

Chandra

Cordelia

Caroline

Catherine

Calla

Coraline

Coralie

Clementine "Clem"

Carol

Carolyn

Cielle

Cosima "Cosi"

Connie

Christina

Carly

Chloe

Cher

Clara

Crystal

Cressida

Camreigh

Gender-Neutral:

Calix

Carter

Charlie

Cairo

Christian

Cove

Clover

Curtis

Cidae

Carson

Chip

Chester

Coy

Circe

Carmen

[livingsingle-tv]

Erika Alexander and T.C. Carson reprising their roles as Maxine Shaw and Kyle Barker and Briana Hodge as their daughter, Kyla Barker, on Half & Half (Season 3, Episode 14 – The Big Performance Anxiety Episode)

Maxine: I've got a meeting to go over some documents tonight, so Kyla should just stay at your place. Kyle: Ohh. I'm always delighted to spend time with my seed, my little cherub, my progeny. Maxine: You never could just keep it simple. Kyla: Dad, I'm gonna need two hours of play time before homework, some chocolate chip cookies, and a 15% increase in my living expenses. And that's not negotiable. There better be some fresh donuts on that snack table.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Chris Geidner at Law Dork:

The Oklahoma Supreme Court and Oklahoma’s conservative attorney general agree that the state’s public charter school system should not be funding an explicitly religious school. The federal government’s charter school law and 46 other states’ charter school laws have been based on that premise as well. But on Wednesday, the right majority on the U.S. Supreme Court — with its religious supremacy project and its outside helpers — appeared likely to end that and OK the first religious charter school in the country. Justices Clarence Thomas, Sam Alito, and Brett Kavanaugh appeared eager to do so, and Justice Neil Gorsuch’s past writing in a related case signaled his alignment with the move, at least in principle. Chief Justice John Roberts — the key vote then since Justice Amy Coney Barrett has recused herself from the case — appeared to be open to the idea as well. As Justice Sonia Sotomayor put it, the conservatives on the U.S. Supreme Court are seeking to create a country where “the Free Exercise Clause trumps the essence of the Establishment Clause.“ A ruling for the Oklahoma Statewide Charter School Board and St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual School would further increase the role of religion in public life — and change what it means to provide a public education in America. After nearly two-and-a-half hours of argument, that outcome was as likely as it appeared when the court reached out to take the case. There was no Republican appointee on the court who seemed committed to a ruling that would maintain the understanding that charter schools are public schools, meaning they are either governmental entities or at least engaged in state action.

As the case has come to the justices, the charter school board and St. Isidore have challenged the Oklahoma Supreme Court’s decision backing the view of Oklahoma Attorney General Gentner Drummond, a Republican, that the board’s decision to approve St. Isidore’s application to be a charter school is illegal under state law. The charter school board — represented on Wednesday by James Campbell from Alliance Defending Freedom, a far-right Christian legal advocacy organization — argued that past Supreme Court cases addressing whether churches and religious groups can be excluded from programs like the one at issue in Trinity Lutheran Church of Columbia v. Comer — providing recycled tire chips for playgrounds — dictate the outcome here.

[...] For his part, Roberts was focused the Trinity Lutheran line of cases, including 2022’s Carson v. Makin over a Maine tuition assistance program, as well as the recent case over Catholic Social Services’s foster placement policies refusing to license same-sex couples. Roberts wrote all three of these opinions. In the foster-care case, the Supreme Court held that Philadelphia could not force CSS to include same-sex couples in order to participate in the city’s foster-care program. To do so would violate their Free Exercise rights, Roberts wrote for the court in Fulton v. City of Philadelphia. “How is that different from what we have here?” Roberts asked. “You have an education program, and you want to not allow them to participate with a religious entity.“

Even with the recusal of Justice Amy Coney Barrett, the Oklahoma Statewide Charter School Board v. Drummond case at SCOTUS is likely to be ruled in favor of eroding separation of church and state.

See Also:

The Guardian: US supreme court seems open to religious public charter schools

LGBTQ Nation: Supreme Court case could tear down wall between religion & schools

[mungo-grubb]

Vitality Inc. - Bryan & the Wonder Protein Shake Part II

***

The flight and limo ride took a while to reach the ranch, but Bryan’s excitement kept him eager to arrive at his destination. As Bryan arrived at Michael’s ranch with his duffel over his shoulder, he was met and welcomed by the house manager, Mr. Carson.

“Welcome to the ranch, Bryan.” Said Mr. Carson. Michael felt awful that he could not meet you personally when you arrived, but he sends his regards. “I am here to show you where you will be staying and provide a tour of the compound. Since you already submitted your signed NDA, we can move ahead with the tour.”

Instead of heading into the main house, Mr. Carson took Bryan to an electric cart and placed his duffle in the back. “Hop in, Bryan. We will first drop off your things at the Bunkhouse where you will be staying on the property, and then I will take you around.”

A bit confused but going with the flow, Bryan hopped into the passage side, and they started down the side trail. As they drove past the massive mansion and headed down a dirt road, Mr. Carson explained that he would stay at the bunkhouse. He will have it all to himself, and it is equipped with everything that he may need. The Bunk is fully loaded with food, refreshments, a gym, a video recording studio, and more. Our host, Mr. Michael, would like you to make yourself at home.  

Per the agreement, the kitchen is fully stocked with Wonder Protein Shakes. Please try it, and practice making promotional videos with it. Mr. Michael will review the footage and provide feedback later in the week.

"Oh, you will not have cell service while on the ranch due to our privacy policy."

Bryan, a bit overwhelmed, just nodded while taking everything in.         

As they arrived at the Bunk, Bryan was in shock at the size of the house. The two-story ranch-style house was larger than any bunkhouse he had ever seen. “This is a mansion, and it was all mine.” Said Bryan.

“Well as long as you are staying with us.” Replied Mr. Carson.

Bryan corrected himself with an “Oh yeah, right!”

“I am going to place your belongings upstairs in your room. Why don’t you head into the kitchen and help yourself to something to eat and drink?”        

Mr. Carson disappeared up the stairs as Bryan headed down the hallway to the kitchen. 

Mr. Carson was not lying, the kitchen was stocked with all of Bryan’s favorites, such as chips, snacks, and different types of cheese. In the fridge, were multiple shelves supplied with rows of the Power Protein Shake with a small note on one, “Enjoy! – Mr. M.”.  

Bryan, keen on trying the product, grabbed one off the shelf and popped it open. “Bottoms Up!”

The Power Protein Shake tasted just like a chocolate milkshake. “This is unbelievable!” Scanning the nutrition label, Bryan was amazed to see 0 carbs and 50 grams of protein.

“Fuck, this cannot be real. It is too good.” Slamming the rest of the protein drink down his throat. “Bbbbuuuurrrpp!”

Bryan heard “Nice one” from behind him. Mr. Carson was standing there with a polite smile.

“Sorry,” said Bryan.

“No worries, lad, grab a few for the road with some cheese and crackers, and I will show you some more.”   

The rest of the day, Mr. Carson drove Bryan around the compound and showed him the pool, the pastures, walking trails, the lake, and the barn before dropping him back off at the Bunkhouse.  

“Settle in and get some sleep, Bryan.” Said Mr. Carson. “Breakfast will be provided, and then feel free to start your routine and recording.”

“What about Mr. Michael?” asked Bryan.

“Oh, he will sync up with you later this week. For the time being, he has provided some instructions on your kitchen counter. Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Carson.”

Bryan headed to the kitchen to see what his instructions were from his generous host.

Welcome to my ranch,

I apologize that I could not meet you today in person, however, I look forward to meeting you later this week. In the meantime, according to our previous discussions and our contract, I’d like you to drink my shakes and record promotional material during your day-to-day activities (e.g., working out, hiking, swimming, or relaxing around the Bunk. I want to market this product as a healthy everyday protein drink for the active guy. Your brand is “Dairy Makes the Body,” I would love to see my protein shake make you huge.

Housekeeping and the kitchen will be restocked daily. If you need anything else, just ask Mr. Carson.  

Mr. M.

Not able to sleep from the excitement, Bryan explored his new accommodations with a shake in one hand and a block of cheese in the other.

***  

The next morning, Bryan awoke groggy with the sun. He was used to starting his chores on the farm around 4:30 AM, which often prevented him from sleeping in. While glancing over at the clock, reading 7:00 AM, he noticed the three open Power Protein shake containers and the cheese wrappers.

“Wow, I don’t remember having that many shakes, but I will hit the gym harder today to make up for last night.”     

Bryan threw on some briefs and made his way down the stairs toward the kitchen. He planned to grab a couple of shakes and made his way into the gym, but as he turned the corner, he ran into a tall, fit, blonde man in an apron.

“Oh sorry,” said Bryan quickly trying to cover up his morning semi-chub outlined by his underwear.

“No worries, man. I’m Stephan, your personal chef and nutrition consultant. I would have thought Mr. Carson would have told you that breakfast would be provided.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right, he did. Sorry, I forgot.” Said Bryan frozen in the doorway.     

 “Come in, sit at the table. I was provided a list with all your favorites, and I have made a special plan to assist you in your workouts while here on the ranch.”

“What, really?!?” Bryan was again surprised by the good fortune of his situation.  

“For your first day, I made you a cheesy four-egg omelet, buttered toast, and a protein shake. I will have your meals ready for you in the morning and the evening. For lunch, have a protein shake until full. We can adjust the plan, as we go along.”   

“Heck yeah! I love that I don’t have to worry about meal prep.”

Stephan serves Bryan at the table and goes back to his prep station. Bryan stared, completely enamored with the Thor-like chef in front of him. Then Bryan took a bite and almost came instantly into his briefs. The omelet was so gooey and cheesy that it melted over his tongue. This was peak farm fresh!

Bryan daydreamed about his chef as he ate. Noticing the rather large stain of precum at the tip of his erection, he had to wait until Stephan left the kitchen before, he could escape up to his room to avoid being seen.     

Safely back in his room, Bryan jumped back into bed and quickly got to work on his morning wood while thinking about Stephan. Stroking his average size shaft with one hand and rubbing his pecs and abs with the other. Bryan loved to feel his strength and muscles when he worked on his pole. His mind focused on what Stephan might be packing under that apron, when he erupted all over his thigh.  

With his head cleared Bryan was ready to start the day (For real this time). He showered, cleaned up, and put on some running shorts, a black tank top, and his ball cap.

Still full of breakfast, Bryan made his way to the recording studio to start his video journaling.

Day 1

Even though he knows no one is going to see it other than Michael, Bryan started his video blogging to practice and get some material.  

“Hey guys, Bryan here, I’ve been tapped to promote this amazing new protein shake by Vitality.” Taking a sip, ‘It’s sooo good! Umm, I am really excited to spend the next couple of weeks with you in the gym and achieve some epic gains!”

Bryan spent a couple of hours taking a handheld camera around the house. He showed the gym, the kitchen, and around the Bunkhouse. 

For lunch, he grabbed a few shakes and went for a walk on the nature trails. When he returned, he was finally ready to hit the gym.

"I believe it is an arms and abs day". Having the gym all to himself, Bryan cranked up some music and began to pump.  

After about two hours working up a good sweat, Bryan felt accomplished and hungry. He cleaned up and headed back to the kitchen (Secretly hoping that Stephan was there).

“Hey there big guy,” said Stephan. “Good workout?”

“Oh, hey – yeah! Arms and abs today.” Replied Bryan, flexing a bit to impress Stephan.

“Looking solid.” Grab a shake and have a seat. Dinner should be ready shortly.

Bryan and Stephan chatted away, getting to know each other while Stephan served up dinner.

“Extra-cheesy rice, broccoli, and grilled chicken.”      

Bryan inhaled the plate and asked, “This is fantastic! Is there more?”

Of course, while bringing the pan over to the table. “I am glad you like it. Help yourself.”

As Stephan cleaned up the kitchen, Bryan ate until he was stuffed.

“All right big man, get some sleep, and I will see you again for breakfast.”

A little sad that Stephan was leaving, Bryan relaxed on the couch, digesting his meal, until he drifted off to sleep. 

Check out the full 5 part story:

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree, a high fantasy adventure of first love and secondhand books set prior to the events of New York Times bestseller Legends & Lattes.

The art featured in this image is by Carson Daniel Lowmiller.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Viv's career with the notorious mercenary company Rackam's Ravens isn't going super great. When she suffers a dread injury during the hunt for a powerful necromancer, the Ravens pack her off for some obligatory and undesired R&R. 

The sleepy beach town of Murk is relaxing, but so far from anything resembling excitement or action that she worries she’ll never get back in the game. But then this down-on-her-luck soldier of fortune starts whiling away her many free hours at a beleaguered bookshop and in the company of its foul-mouthed proprietor. 

We don’t always know what we need, or which small choices change the paths of our lives. 

And adventure isn’t so far from Murk as Viv thinks! A suspicious traveler in gray, a gnome with a chip on her shoulder, a summer fling, and an improbable number of skeletons would like a word.

[thekenikaridevblog]

!!!HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO THE KENIKARI DEMO!!!

insane ramble under the cut because I am so normal about this milestone

Man, this feels surreal. I know it's normal for things to become older as time passes, but I never quite processed that this would happen to my game of all things. And here we are

It feels like it only came out like five months ago, but no, it's been twelve already. It feels illegal lmao

On this day back in 2023 I uploaded to itch.io a silly demo for a project that had been brainrotting me since 2019. I won't deny that I got a bit sad that it wasn't an instant hit and the next undertale haha, but I guess that's to be expected. The odds of that happening were slim, even slimmer with it being just a simple demo and only half of the main chapter. But still, the amount of love it did get still managed to catch me off-guard. This silly project? Out of all in itch.io? It was this that you chose to play? It was crazy to me that random people on the internet were willing to dedicate their time to know these characters that came out of my brain

Then, a few months later, I finished the full half chapter, and even though the website didn't push it as much since it technically wasn't a new project, it still got played, and people enjoyed it, and wrote comments, and left reviews. I treasured all of it

Even crazier, people drew these guys, people wrote stories about them!! How cool is that?? even back when it was just a demo, people still did that! It feels insane and honoring to this day

To everyone who has made it this far, thank you

To people who played this game, thank you

To people who drew and wrote about these guys, thank you. Thank you Astro, Chip, Ace, Virgil, Moss, Hector, Zecri, Molt, Bree, Carson, Ash, Asher, Mothman, Kisho, Beetroot, and Ann. I mean it

And for many more years!

With love, Tena