𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖞 *

⎯⎯⎯⎯ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

[cosmicretreat]

[kitcruz]

In lieu of a response he tossed the ball to Lennon without warning. There came a point where his friend only had himself to blame for the low he'd reached, and he'd definitely hit that- Kit was just glad he managed to get himself out of it. At least it cleared his conscience a little, seeing as he used to be Lennon's dealer. "Yeah. We're such good friends we knocked up the same chick." It was a half-hearted joke but a joke nonetheless, since Nixon was still his best friend. "Yeah I can tell, you look good. Like you're stayin' out of trouble. Now I can't say the same for myself..."

[carrolllennon]

Lennon was caught off guard by the pass. The ball grazed his fingertips in an attempt to catch it, but ultimately fell to the floor. He picked it back up to bounce it a few more times. The sound of the rubber hitting the pavement was the only sound filling the space between them. He had reached a low with Kit's help, but now he was digging himself out of the grave he had dug for himself. It wouldn't have been easy to blame Kit, but who was Lennon without him? He'd much rather cut a limb off than Kit. "You guys are now brother baby daddies." He snorted, shooting the ball into the basket, finally. "For the most part. I'm sure it'll have no trouble finding me if it so cares to." His brows furrowed. "What kind of trouble are we talking about here?"

[nixon-peters]

"If you wanted someone to sweet talk you you would've went to Phoenix." Nixon had never been the type to hold back on what he was thinking, especially when it came to the boys. He treated them all the way he wanted to be treated, even if it meant stepping on their toes. But Lennon had always been different than Kit or Phoenix. He was always the one Nixon had expected to go the farthest if he would stop getting in his own way. He'd thought the two of them would move from high school to college ball, and when that ended maybe they'd be lucky enough to get drafted to the same team. Or at least to play together again at some point to become one of great duos people talked about. They could go down in history together. It was a lofty dream, but something Nixon had held onto longer than he probably should have. He'd held on to until that moment, if he was being honest with himself. He'd never stopped believing in Lennon and what he'd thought was his dream despite everything, But based on the conversation it was clear that maybe it wasn't something he wanted or believed in anymore.

"You could be." Nixon shrugged one of his shoulders, attempting to keep his disappointment from showing on his face as he let the conversation drop. Just because Lennon fucked up didn't mean it's all over. Not by a long shot. But Nixon didn't plan on pushing the subject. "Whatever. What about your notebook? You still doing that? The last time I checked, you don't have to go to an Ivy League school to become a writer. You just... you know, pick up a pen or whatever. That's gotta be one way to kill time while you're waiting for the senior center to hand in all their crusty shoes. "

[carrolllennon]

"Phoenix always spared my feelings." And maybe that was the problem all along. Had someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken him sooner, Lennon would have woken up sooner. It took losing everything, even brushing death, for him to realize that he needed to get his act together. Starting over in life as you neared the end of your 20s felt like a humiliating ritual. His peers were creating something long-lasting. Whether it was in jobs or relationships. They were achieving greatness that had been bestowed upon him at a young age. Greatness he squandered for a few moments of doped-up bliss. Now here he was in the ashes of the life he had burnt away. Chipping at something half-heartedly because he needed to go on. The cruel touch of reality felt like a bucket of ice water. A shock to the system each time he opened his eyes, but it reminded him that at least he was alive. At least he did get to try again, fail, and build something, even if he never imagined this was where he would be with his life. He was grateful for the faith that Nixon had in him, but it felt like the sort of blind faith children held onto. Back when they could afford to dream something so ridiculous and risk it all.

"I could be." He agreed. Letting the idea linger. The thought of it burned in his chest. Aching with the life he had long lost. It almost felt foolish to hope maybe he could turn everything around and still make something of himself. "But who knows if I will." He added after a beat. "Yeah, I write from time to time when inspiration strikes. No, you don't have to. It makes you look like hot shit to have that degree, but you don't need it to become anything." All Lennon really needed was a leap of faith, but he found himself comfortable. It was the first time in a long time that he was, but by being comfortable, it also meant there was no momentum in growth. He stood still, protected in the mundane. "And yeah, what? Post my shit on the internet for all to see? I doubt people want to hear the troubling tales of a kid on the wrong side of the tracks falling into the obvious life path expected of him. Anything's better than when the senior center rolls in. It's more than crusty shoes, man. It's crusty everything." A shiver ran up his spine at the thought. "What about you, dream weaver? Think you'll still try to make it to the big leagues?"

[kitcruz]

"Oh yeah, your life sounds real hard," he teased, and scooped the ball back up as it rolled by his feet. If the worst thing Lennon had going for him right now was an annoying co-worker then he wasn't doing so bad, and in fact Kit was thrilled to hear him complain about something so mundane if it meant he was staying clean. "That kid's got so much shit already, she's probably got twelve labubus. But she has to share now, so any extra attention is probably good." He made a quick move towards Lennon then dribbled around him, maintaining a certain level of nonchalance even if the whole situation between him and Nixon and their now mutual baby mama was still weird as hell. "You been gettin' some sun when you're not at that bowling alley?"

[carrolllennon]

"Doesn't it? Your pity means everything to me." He placed a hand over his heart. He gave an over-exaggerated pout to really sell it. Life had been boring for the last year. Not that Lennon was complaining. He found peace in the stillness life now offered. The highs he used to chase were a thing of the past. He hoped it would stay that way. "Twelve labubus with their own sports cars, I'm sure. They're living better than us. Oh, yeah. You and Nixon are baby daddy brothers. Rosewood, small world." Lennon made it a point to stay out of relationship drama. The entire situation was wild to him, but he wasn't about to say shit either. "Yeah, man, can't you tell? I'm no longer a pasty Victorian boy. I have a nice tan to me now."

[nixon-peters]

"No idea but I guess it's a thing now. You should see these things called Fuggos. Zara's friend got a handful of them at a birthday party and it honestly made me miss the days when my cousins were playing with shit like Care Bears and Bratz." Nixon bit the inside of his cheek, eyeing his friend carefully. He could be an asshole, sure, but he wasn't so much so that he would rub Lennon's face in things. "You aren't getting any younger, man. If you want to trade it in now is probably the time to give it a shot. You ever think about going for the G league or maybe something overseas? I know that wasn't the plan but ball is ball. I could ask around and see when and where the next tryouts are going to be. I can even pay for the ticket and put you up if it's somewhere out of state and you're serious about it, but you have to be serious this time, man."

[carrolllennon]

"Fuggos? Now you're making shit up. There's no way something like that exists. They just keep complicating things, don't they? It used to be so simple." He teased. "Damn, don't fuckin' sugarcoat it, Nix." Lennon was aware that he was closer to thirty than he was to his twenties now. Had you asked him a few years ago, Lennon would have never imagined he would live to this age. Addiction was a disease that had him one foot in an early grave. Another tragedy wasted youth and was a cautionary tale of failed potential. "Honestly? I haven't." It was the first time in a long time that Lennon had been honest not only with his friends but with himself. He had evaded getting too deep the last few years. It was easier to keep the people he cared about most at arm's length. Save them from the inevitable. Now that there was a future to live in, Lennon didn't know what he was doing. He was aimless, taking life day by day because that's all he could do.

"Look, I appreciate the effort, man, but we gotta be honest here. Guys like me don't make it out of Rosewood. I'm not some underdog success story in the making. Those were nice dreams when I was younger, but the reality is, it doesn't matter how good I am. I'm a risk no one wants to take a chance on." The basketball rolled to his feet. Lennon picked it up, and all of a sudden, the weight of it was heavier in his hands. "I had a ticket to Columbia. Writing. I was gonna be some big-time author. Make my ma proud. I threw all that shit away. The bowling alley isn't forever. It's just a stepping stone. A humiliation ritual most days, if I'm being honest. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I'm figuring out what to do with this second chance."

[kitcruz]

"Dude." Kit caught the ball without thinking twice about it, easily giving it a quick spin on his finger before he shot it at the basket behind Lennon. "Who fuckin' cares." The ball fell through the net and back to the floor, bouncing as it rolled back towards them. "I think Zara's got a labubu. Least she did, she might be over it now. Maybe you two should connect, pick each other's brains."

[carrolllennon]

"You know what, you're right, man." Leave it to Kit to always remind Lennon what was important. Dubai, whatever the hell he just said, Labubu's would be the next passing craze in a few weeks. With his luck, they probably already were. "Makes sense. Seems like something her age group would like. The co-worker is, in fact, a girl who got too excited while telling me the labubu lore. It was so fuckin' hard to nod and pretend it was interesting because she wouldn't get the hint to shut up. Let me see if they're still trendy. I gotta make up the cool uncle points. I can't bring her a fuckass labubu she won't like."

[nixon-peters]

"Think of it like one of those little rabbits people get for Easter only instead of being filled with like caramel or something it's green. And the bunny looks like it's on some hard shit. They're honestly creepy looking." Nixon grimaced as he shot from the three point arc, nailing the shot with ease before he went to retrieve it for Lennon. "I feel like it goes without saying that you need a better job but I don't even know where you're working at this point."

[carrolllennon]

"Right, so, that sounds awful. Why the hell is everyone obsessed with them if they look creepy? I thought cute is what appealed to the masses?" Lennon was never one to stick with trends. His phone had been busted for too long that he couldn't keep up with it if he tried. He was just now getting up to date with all that had happened on the internet over the past year. "Probably, but work is work. I'm working at Lucky Strike's right now. Haven't been there long. Thought I'd trade in the bowling ball for a basketball today."

[lelandpalmer-chw]

"Well to even begin to answer your question I think the first thing you need to ask yourself is language and who gets to master it you know? Or rather could it ever be mastered? She is an ever illusive mistress. If I had to put money on an answer however, I'd say it's like a reptar bar only…not." The ball got tossed to Leland, and not a particularly active person, he fumbled with it, but managed to not drop it.

[carrolllennon]

"I can think of a few folks who think they are the masters of it. My honest answer? No, she can't. Especially not when we're adding new words to our vernacular every year. I finally figured out what the hell 'slay' means and how to use it. Is it a verb, noun, or adjective? Apparently, all of the above. I'd take a reptar bar over whatever a labubu is any day." An impressed look fell onto Lennon's features as Leland caught the ball. He was surprised by the little things every day.

[carrolllennon]

"what the hell is a dubai chocolate labubu, and why was someone asking me about it at work?" lennon spun the basketball he had on his finger for a moment, passing it to the other person afterwards. "swear, people are just stringing shit together and calling them words." he could feel the dull beginnings of a headache. the thought of all these jumbled-up words made his writer's heart clench.

[wyatthazy]

Antonio Cipriano as John Logan OFF CAMPUS 1.02

[buyeons]

ANTONIO CIPRIANO AS JOHN LOGAN OFF CAMPUS, 1.01.

[anyataylorjoys]

THE BASKETBALL DIARIES dir. Scott Kalvert, 1994

[ilya-rozanova]

Hudson Williams | Oscars 2026

[chwrpg]

LENNON CARROLL. college senior; twenty one. timothée chalamet. TAKEN.

and, as jim once said:

“…Did I ever tell you about the first time I did heroin?”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Lennon was definitely what you’d call a product of his environment. Living on the wrong side of the tracks had taught him all the life lessons a boy needed to survive. It taught him how to put the perfect scheme together to sneak 40 oz from the local convenience store, exactly what pawn shops gave the most bucks for the things he stole, and what girl’s would put out for the least amount of money. It was all just a part of his creative process. How was one to write if they didn’t go out and enjoy life? Get in a bit of trouble every here and there.

You see, Lennon was a writer. His specialty, poetry. He had always had a way with words, maybe it was due to the fact that the dictionary was the only book in his house. That or the bible and he’d seen what that did to people first hand due to their crazy crackpot neighbor that’d wake the entire neighborhood telling them all to repent. So he used his like for words to make beautiful sentences, things that would move people. If he ever let them see it, that is. If there was anything Lennon kept to himself, it was his poems.

So some would ask, how does a boy with a background like him get into a pristine school like St. Agnes? 

He used all that the hood taught him to get in, of course. There was no better education to a boy than that. But just as much as the hood gave him, it also took from him. 

It had started at a party with Nixon, he always got invited to richie shit. He didn’t exactly care for all of that shit, but he knew out of all their friends, he was the most presentable so Nixon was stuck bringing him to the other side. At the party, his best friend had introduce him to a set of twins, both down for fun. But before that, they pulled out what he knew very well to be cocaine. He’d seen the guys peddle that out of Katz but he had never tried it. The hardest drug he’d gone for was weed, maybe an E pill here or there. 

He was ready to say no, but the blonde made a good case for it. It was just a long night thing, why not? Well that night, he not only had the best lay of his life… but he had gotten the best rush of inspiration. Words just came to him, everything he wrote was beautiful. And he just wanted more.

DURING THE PARTY;

Lennon was hard pressed for cash. His mother hadn’t made enough tips from her job at the Drake to get him the job stuff. And that’s what he needed, he needed the stuff that made your finger tips tingle and took you on a ride. That’s how he wrote the best shit. And he needed to write something great, he had a meeting with an college adviser from Columbia coming to talk to him. Yeah, we wouldn’t graduate for another year but this was a big deal. At least that’s Keating kept yapping in his ear about.  

So he was going to do his best to make her proud and make sure he had a ticket to New York ready once he was down with this shit show of a town. Lennon made his way into the Heather party with every intention of making the rest of the money for his dope, one way or another. 

And the only option coming to mind was to steal it. It’d be easy, all the richies were focused on getting naked and drinking booze, so he just had to sneak into the coat check and rummage through a couple of pockets. He made his way to the counter, flashing his charming smile to the girl in charge, letting her know he needed to get his girlfriend’s jacket and he’d misplaced her ticket. He offered to get the jacket himself and she instantly went off about policies, like he gave a shit. To that, he reminded her that everyone was drinking, who’d really care.

Unfortunately for her, she bought into his charms. As soon as he made his way into the closet, he covered her mouth and pulled out his switchblade, letting her know if she screamed, he’d cut her up. He shoved her to the end of the closet, looking through the coat pockets of the rich and like he suspected, they were filled with loose change. He grabbed all that he could before looking down at the girl and flashing her a wicked smile before he rushed out of the closet and the venue. 

He’d made out like a bandit, the rush was clearly as great as the one that came from his new found love, dope.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.