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#SAMWELL BASKETBALL TEAM
zimms · 3 years
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thinking about the lost extras,,,,,,,
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omgsamwellsports · 3 years
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"one in four, maybe more" more like one in two, buddy it's you
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Consider this for the SMH:
A champions' parade through Samwell.
A quick google confirms that parades for NCAA hockey champions are in the realm of reality. Not all of the time. But they happen. Usually in small towns that revolve around a college/university... which Samwell probably qualifies.
What’s more, the national profile of that season would give the uni and town/surrounding towns extra motive to celebrate.
Now it wouldn’t be anything like what D1 football/basketball get (open-top buses, whole day set aside, etc). More like what you’d see in a small town high school homecoming parade; a weekday afternoon after everyone gets out of school/work, old convertibles, mayor and school admin making an appearance, marching band, firetrucks, and a hay bale wagon for the team. Maybe some Falconers...
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sportsintersections · 4 years
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16 Awesome Queer Sports Books: Books with LGBTQIA+ Athlete Representation
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Image: Daniela Porcelli/Getty Images.
In some ways, the last few years has been a golden time for LGBTQIA+ athletes. The 2019 Women’s World Cup was a record tournament for LGBTQ+ visibility, with at least five players on the U.S. women’s national soccer team being openly queer (Ali Krieger and her now-wife Ashlyn Harris, Megan Rapinoe, A.D. Franch, and Tierna Davidson), as well as coach Jill Ellis, and another player coming out in the moment captured in the photo above, kissing her girlfriend in celebration. Rapinoe’s girlfriend, Sue Bird, another out lesbian athlete who plays in the WNBA, wrote an open letter to the President of the United States. A blockbuster movie told the story of iconic out lesbian tennis star Billie Jean King. Jason Paul Collins came out in 2013 (but retired the following year). Michael Sam was the first openly gay man to be drafted into the NFL in 2014 (but he has since retired).
But, according to the Human Rights Campaign, 70% of LGBTQIA+ people don’t come out to their teammates while still playing a sport, and 82% of athletes have witnessed homophobic and/or transphobic language in their sport. It is still more common, especially for male athletes, to come out after they have already left their sport (TW for homophobic slurs/statements and suicidal ideation), and many athletes who are still playing face backlash (TW for misgendering & general transphobia).
These books, from memoirs by professional queer athletes to YA romances with LGBTQIA+ athlete protagonists, explore these issues and more. 
Books are YA fiction unless otherwise noted.
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Spinning, by Tillie Walden (graphic memoir)
This beautiful graphic novel memoir captures Tillie’s experience with figure skating and why she eventually decided to give it up. Full review here.
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Girl Crushed, by Katie Heaney
Quinn thought her senior year would be perfect: college scouts recruiting her to her dream school for D1 soccer and her best-friend-turned-girlfriend at her side. But then Jamie dumps her, a month before the school year begins, and it’s getting a little late to have heard back from schools, if she’s going to end up on one of the top teams. Over the course of the school year, Quinn learns that her binary black-and-white, gay-and-straight, success-and-failure ways of seeing her world could stand to be a little more complicated. This book is about identity, self-esteem, friendship, crushes, and soccer. There are also many fun USWNT references! TW for some (challenged) bisexual erasure.
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The Reappearing Act: Coming Out on a College Basketball Team Led by Born-Again Christians, by Kate Fagan (adult memoir)
Kate was thrilled to be playing basketball for a nationally-ranked school and to have a close-knit group of teammates. Her best friends were part of Colorado’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and she tried to join them and learn about their church, but she started to realize that she might be one of those people whose “sinful lifestyles” they talked about. She had to figure out how to come out without losing her friends, and her team.
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Check, Please! Volume 1, by Ngozi Ukazu (graphic novel)
This adorable graphic novel (which was originally published as a popular webcomic) follows Bitty, a former junior figure skating champion and enthusiastic baker, who somehow ended up on the Samwell University hockey team. He’s terrified of checking (what if he gets hurt??), trying to figure out if he can win over the guys with pies, and also feeling some kind of way about the hot but grumpy captain.
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Keeper of the Dawn, by Dianna Gunn
Lai wants to become a priestess, like her mother and grandmother were before her, but first she must prove herself in the trials she’s been training for her whole life. Nothing goes according to plan, but she can still depend on herself and her skill as a fighter and a horseback rider and take matters into her own hands. This fantasy novel features an asexual protagonist and a f/f romance.
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The Passing Playbook, by Isaac Fitzsimmons (2020/2021 release)
This book hasn’t been released yet, but there are so few (if any) own voices YA sports books with trans characters that I decided to include it anyway. A queer, biracial, trans soccer player is benched, and has to decide whether to fight the ruling, even though that would mean coming out to everyone…including the Christian teammate he’s falling for.
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Running with Lions, by Julian Winters
This coming-of-age novel follows Sebastian, a bisexual rising senior who’s excited for his last summer at soccer camp, where his teammates are great and the coach doesn’t expect anyone to stay in the closet. But then Emir Shah, a Muslim British-Pakistani new recruit, shows up. He also happens to be Sebastian’s former best friend, and they left things on pretty bad terms. So why is he finding himself attracted to Emir all of the sudden?
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None of the Above, by I.W. Gregorio
I am hesitant to recommend this non-ownvoices intersex representation, but it’s the only book I know of about an intersex teen athlete, and, while it is imperfect and seems geared towards a non-intersex audience, there are certainly some good things to be said about it. It is informative, well-researched, and moving. Kristin, a homecoming queen and champion hurdler with a cute boyfriend, seems to be having a great high school experience. But a doctor’s visit reveals that she’s intersex, and, while she’s still coming to terms with what that might mean for her and her identity, her diagnosis is leaked to the whole school. TW for transphobic/anti-intersex slurs and bullying.
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Forward: My Story, Young Readers’ Edition, by Abby Wambach (memoir)
U.S. Women’s National Team soccer star Abby Wambach tells her story with honesty and vulnerability, sharing how she came to lead her team to a World Cup win in 2015. She is open about her sexuality and romantic life (including a named mention of a certain pink-haired teammate, who also happens to be her ex-girlfriend) and how it affected her career.
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We Ride Upon Sticks, by Quan Barry (adult fiction, with teen protagonists)
The 1989 Danvers high field hockey team finds themselves winning…a lot. Is it because they all wrote their names in a mysterious notebook with Emilio Estevez on the cover, and pledged themselves to dark forces so they could make the state championships? This darkly funny story explores friendship, sportsmanship, and what means to find power and sense of self as a teen girl.
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Beautiful on the Outside, by Adam Rippon (adult non-fiction)
In his comedic memoir, Olympic figure skater Adam Rippon shares his journey from poverty and uncertainty to success and becoming a self-professed American sweetheart. He opens up about anxiety attacks, coming to terms with his sexuality and coming out, and some enjoyable behind-the-scenes gossip. He also narrates the audiobook.
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Ana on the Edge, by A.J. Sass (middle-grade, fall 2020 release)
Twelve-year-old Ana-Marie is the reigning U.S. Juvenile figure skating champion, but that doesn’t mean everything feels easy or figured out. When Ana meets Hayden, a transgender boy, at the rink, Hayden mistakes Ana for a boy…and Ana doesn’t bother to correct him. In fact, it feels good to be seen as a boy. Now Ana must decide which identity feels the most right, in time for a big competition coming up. This book isn’t out yet, but it’s due to be released in fall 2020, and it is written by a non-binary (and autistic) author, who is also a figure skater.
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Heartstopper, Volume 1, by Alice Oseman (graphic novel)
Charlie is neurotic and openly gay (after he was outed last year and bullied for months), and hoping that Year 10 at the British all-boys grammar school will be better. He meets Nick, an upbeat, sweet rugby player, and they become friends. Soon he finds himself hoping that their friendship turns into something more.
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Fearless: Portraits of LGBT Student Athletes, by Jeff Sheng (non-fiction)
This is a memoir of an American artist who uses his story as a closeted high school athlete in the 1990s as a jumping-off-point to depict hundreds of photos of other LGBTQ+ high school and college athletes in the U.S. and Canada between 2003 and 2015.
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Amateur, by Thomas McBee (adult memoir/non-fiction)
In this memoir, Thomas McBee describes grappling with the meaning of masculinity, violence, and sports. As a trans man, he has noticed since his transition that the world treats him completely differently and expects different things from him. But what does he want, and how does he want to define masculinity and strength for himself? He decides to train for a charity boxing match at Madison Square Garden as a way to find out.
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Dryland, by Sara Jaffe
Julie is a cynical teen in Portland at the height of the grunge movement, struggling to define herself and her sexuality. No one in her family is willing to talk about her older brother, who at one point seemed destined for the Olympics but then fell off the map. Julie has never considered swimming herself, but then the swim team captain convinces her to join. Is this what she’s been looking for -- a way to get closer to her brother and maybe herself?
[All book covers belong to their respective publishers].
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theorangedeath · 5 years
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Some webcomic recs
Webcomics are as underrated as they are varied. I mostly read printed comics now, but there’s no way I’d have gotten there had I not found webcomics before - believe me, I tried, but this damn hobby is super inaccessible to a beginner, not to mention expensive. Webcomics are like fanfics in that regard - hell, some of them are fan comics - in that there’s something for everyone, all within your reach, but in order to find something you like you have to either 1. Get very, VERY lucky, 2. Be prepared to read a lot of bad stuff in order to get to the good stuff, or 3. Hear about them from people you trust. 
I was a 2 - i would read anything, back in the day - and while i’m not as unconditionally enthusiastic as i was, there are still some gems I wish got the same appreciation as some talents in the industry. I’ll spare you the rest of the article (dm me for comic rants though), let’s get to it! 
note: all the comics are numbered as “1″ because tumblr messed up the google docs formatting 
Comics i still follow as they update because either tumblr starts posting about them right away or they’re on tapas
Check Please! 
https://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/
I’m probably not the one introducing you to Check Please, as it’s one of the most popular webcomics out there, thank god. The parts of the fandom i’m familiar with are cool and wholesome, just like the work itself. It’s about a southern gay kid, Eric Bittle, who joins the hockey team in his college. It’s impossible not to love every single character there, the sports drama elements are great, and the format is like solidarity put into panels. The Samwell Men’s Hockey team’s motto is “we’ve got each other’s backs”, and there isn’t a single part of the comic that doesn’t 100% incorporate that. 
Heartstopper
https://tapas.io/series/Heartstopper
The 2000s so far have been a rough contest for the title of “sweetest ya romance” but guys, we found it, we can stop now. Nick and Charlie are in highschool, Charlie is gay and out (not by will), Nick plays rugby because apparently that’s what british jocks do. Can i make it any more obvious? It took me a while to fall in love with the artstyle but when i did i fell HARD - the creator is re-drawing some of the older chapters, though, so your experience might be different. The story’s captivating right away, and you want everyone there to be happy from pretty much page 1. The creator also writes ya prose, and some of her books are about other characters from the same school. I love all of them, but Radio Silence is my personal favorite. She also has two novellas about Nick and Charlie themselves, available as e-books. 
Charity Case 
https://tapas.io/series/Charity-Case
I rarely start new webcomics anymore, but boy, this one got me FAST. and that was even before I realized it’s a polyam love story, which i love but is surprisingly rare in webcomics - at least the ones i know. Julien, an irresponsible young musician, resorts to sharing an apartment with two roomates who are a couple. I fell for the unique, gorgeous artstyle first, and by the time i realized i’m also super invested in the story and characters, it’s already become one of my favorites. Plus, Julien’s hair looks so soft! 
The Property of Hate 
http://thepropertyofhate.com/TPoH/
THIS is what comics should be. There’s so much passion here, not just for the story but for the storytelling as well - and the two aren’t as separated as you might think. A young girl is recruited by a TV man to be a hero. The world they enter seems nonsensical and arbitrary at first, but as they travel she discovers its logic, stories and secrets. She will also, as her title suggests, need to save it. There’s so much i love about this comic that i don’t know where to start, so i’ll just say this: it’s absolutely inspiring, in every sense of the word. Also, read the creator’s duck comics, they’ll make you feel things. 
Webcomics i occasionally remember to catch up on, get blown away all over again by how good they are, vow to check them regularly for updates then forget. And repeat 
Wilde Life
https://wildelifecomic.com/
I think this is the first ever webcomic i read that had a plot? I got on the wagon at around chapter 1 or 2 and it’s hard to believe it but it only gets better with time, even though it already starts at 100%. Oscar moves to a new town and immediately makes friends with a ghost and a grumpy teen werewolf. It has both monster-of-the-week type problems and overarching plots, and reading it feels nostalgic and brand new at the same time. The fantasy world has this special feel to it, that makes me miss growing up in the american wilderness even though i, well, didn’t. Plus, the creator is cool as hell. I knit her a hat in high school in exchange for a commission. 
Sfeer Theory
https://sfeertheory.com/
This comic got me through a hard time and i’ll forever be grateful for that. Also, it’s really, really good. This is another case of a comic where you fall in love with the art right away and before long you find yourself caring very much about the characters and the story. You might also find yourself growing out your hair to style it like Luca’s. If you’re me it’ll be a lost cause, so, uh, keep that in mind. Luca works as a technician at the prestigious Uitspan university. A mysterious, powerful man is looking to change that. While the comic’s biggest strength is probably the gorgeous, fascinating worldbuilding - and Luca’s hair - the characters are also ridiculously easy to relate to, even if we don’t know anything about them. Even the most meaningless extras are somehow compelling thanks to the dynamic, rich art style. And did i mention the hair? If you like it, you won’t be disappointed by everything else Little Foolery makes. 
How To Be a Werewolf
http://www.howtobeawerewolf.com/
I almost didn’t read this one! My brain has decided i don’t like werewolves and i don’t know how to reverse that. But then i saw Elias’ body language and it was extremely fun and friendly, and so was the rest of the comic, and the rest is history. Malaya knows she’s a werewolf, but seeing as she doesn’t know any other werewolves, dealing with that is hard. That is until Elias discovers her and decides to help, along with the rest of his pack. It’s filled with family and solidarity feelings, some dark mysteries and themes, and the art is beautiful and expressive. 
Monsterkind 
http://monsterkind.enenkay.com/
Another case of read-everything-this-creator-makes-it’s-all-amazing! Wallace, a social worker, moves - or rather, is moved - to District C, which is mostly populated by monsters. His heart’s in the right place, and apparently so is his apartment, because his neighbors are cool as heck and agree, some of them reluctantly, to help him get his bearings. There’s a mystery to uncover, some monsters to help and a dashing tea octopus to woo - for Kip to woo, anyway - and it’s all a delight to read. Every single character brings their own lovable-ness to the table, and even with the darker parts, reading this comic kinda feels like being hugged. 
Comics that no longer update
The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal - finished 
http://tjandamal.com/
Guys. guys! I’m pretty sure this is my all time favorite comic, web OR printed. I have the printed version, i still read it online occasionally, a lot of the songs mentioned in it are now saved on my spotify, i had it as my phone background for a good couple of years, the whole package. Amal comes out to his family and it ends with him having to drive to his sister’s graduation in Providence. There’s a guy in his kitchen who just so happens to need a lift there, and he’s willing to pay, and Amal’s too hungover to argue. What follows is the best roadtrip story ever. I’m seriously considering getting my license just to recreate that route. I just really love this story, okay? Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, the creator’s music taste is GOOD. 
Prague Race - to be continued in text 
https://www.praguerace.com/
The fantasy aesthetic to end all fantasy aesthetics. And the characters are good and interesting. And the world is well built and leaves you wanting more. AND there’s a cat. And it looks so good! Leona is irresponsible and spontaneous and gets her friends in some weird shit that leaves them trapped in a strange world, dealing with several curses, trying to survive and make sense of it all. I could spend a lifetime looking at the art and die happy. 
Shoot around - finished 
https://www.webtoons.com/en/drama/shoot-around/list?title_no=399&page=1
A girl’s basketball team and its coach, Jeff, deal with a zombie apocalypse. They make the most of the post apocalyptic world. There’s drama, friendship, found family, love and hope - it’s basically everything a zombie apocalypse narrative should be. And i love how the creator plays with the colors from chapter to chapter! 
Rock and Riot - finished 
https://tapas.io/series/Rock-and-Riot 
It’s cute! It’s fun! It’s a 1950’s queer ensamble cast high school drama! It’s what Grease would’ve been like in a better timeline, except we still got it in this timeline. The artstyle fits perfectly with the story and characters, but if you want to see what’s the creator capable of now, read their newest comic, Project Nought. It’s a cool sci fi story and just like in Rock and Riot, it’s super easy to connect to every character there. 
Alright there’s a lot more but i somehow wrote 4 google docs pages of webcomic recs in one sitting (this is what i’m able to focus on? Really, brain?) and i think that’s enough for now. Like i said, please dm me if you want to talk about anything here, rec some of your own, listen to my rants or tell me i’m a nerd. Or all of the above. I might make a similar post with print comic, but right now i have some dogs to pet. Keep being cool! 
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richincolor · 6 years
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New Releases
Happy Monday! There are quite a few books dropping this Tuesday, and they all sound pretty amazing. I’m personally really excited for Check, Please! — the gay, pie-filled, hockey comic of my dreams. I’ve been following the webcomic for two years now, and I can’t wait to get my hands on a physical copy with bonus tweets (!). What new books (or comics) are you loving?
Analee, In Real Life by Janelle Milanes Ever since her mom died three years ago, Analee Echevarria has had trouble saying out loud the weird thoughts that sit in her head. With a best friend who hates her and a dad who’s marrying a yogi she can’t stand, Analee spends most of her time avoiding reality and role-playing as Kiri, the night elf hunter at the center of her favorite online game.
Through Kiri, Analee is able to express everything real-life Analee cannot: her bravery, her strength, her inner warrior. The one thing both Kiri and Analee can’t do, though, is work up the nerve to confess her romantic feelings for Kiri’s partner-in-crime, Xolkar—aka a teen boy named Harris whom Analee has never actually met in person.
So when high school heartthrob Seb Matias asks Analee to pose as his girlfriend in an attempt to make his ex jealous, Analee agrees. Sure, Seb seems kind of obnoxious, but Analee could use some practice connecting with people in real life. In fact, it’d maybe even help her with Harris. But the more Seb tries to coax Analee out of her comfort zone, the more she starts to wonder if her anxious, invisible self is even ready for the real world. Can Analee figure it all out without losing herself in the process?
Check, Please!: #Hockey by Ngozi Ukazu Helloooo, Internet Land. Bitty here! Y’all… I might not be ready for this. I may be a former junior figure skating champion, vlogger extraordinaire, and very talented amateur pâtissier, but being a freshman on the Samwell University hockey team is a whole new challenge. It’s nothing like co-ed club hockey back in Georgia! First of all? There’s checking. And then, there is Jack—our very attractive but moody captain.
A collection of the first half of the megapopular webcomic series of the same name, Check, Please!: #Hockey is the first book of a hilarious and stirring two-volume coming-of-age story about hockey, bros, and trying to find yourself during the best four years of your life.
Here to Stay by Sara Farizan For most of high school, Bijan Majidi has flown under the radar. He gets good grades, reads comics, hangs out with his best friend, Kenji, and secretly crushes on Elle, one of the most popular girls in his school. When he’s called off the basketball team’s varsity bench and makes the winning basket in a playoff game, everything changes in an instant.
But not everyone is happy that Bijan is the man of the hour: an anonymous cyberbully sends the entire school a picture of Bijan photoshopped to look like a terrorist. His mother is horrified, and the school administration is outraged. They promise to find and punish the culprit. All Bijan wants is to pretend it never happened and move on, but the incident isn’t so easily erased. Though many of his classmates rally behind Bijan, some don’t want him or his type to be a part of their school. And Bijan’s finding out it’s not always easy to tell your enemies from your friends . . .
Pride by Ibi Zoboi Zuri Benitez has pride. Brooklyn pride, family pride, and pride in her Afro-Latino roots. But pride might not be enough to save her rapidly gentrifying neighborhood from becoming unrecognizable.
When the wealthy Darcy family moves in across the street, Zuri wants nothing to do with their two teenage sons, even as her older sister, Janae, starts to fall for the charming Ainsley. She especially can’t stand the judgmental and arrogant Darius. Yet as Zuri and Darius are forced to find common ground, their initial dislike shifts into an unexpected understanding. But with four wild sisters pulling her in different directions, cute boy Warren vying for her attention, and college applications hovering on the horizon, Zuri fights to find her place in Bushwick’s changing landscape, or lose it all.
Wildcard (Warcross #2) by Marie Lu Emika Chen barely made it out of the Warcross Championships alive. Now that she knows the truth behind Hideo’s new NeuroLink algorithm, she can no longer trust the one person she’s always looked up to, who she once thought was on her side.
Determined to put a stop to Hideo’s grim plans, Emika and the Phoenix Riders band together, only to find a new threat lurking on the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. Someone’s put a bounty on Emika’s head, and her sole chance for survival lies with Zero and the Blackcoats, his ruthless crew. But Emika soon learns that Zero isn’t all that he seems–and his protection comes at a price. Caught in a web of betrayal, with the future of free will at risk, just how far will Emika go to take down the man she loves?
American Road Trip by Patrick Flores-Scott                                                With a strong, loving family, an incredibly loyal best friend, and a budding romance with the girl of his dreams, life shows promise for seventeen-year-old Teodoro “T” Avila. But he takes some hard hits the summer before his senior year when his nearly perfect brother Manny returns from a tour in Iraq with a devastating case of PTSD. In a desperate effort to save Manny from himself and pull their family back together, T's fiery sister Xochitl hoodwinks her brothers into a road trip with many stops along the road to visit loved ones from their past.
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sidebldogsidkfnr · 5 years
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Zimbits ‘Take Me to Church’ AU part 1/?????
Nora Valley Community College didn’t look real. Not that it appeared ethereal or haunting in any way; on the contrary, it was bland. Nora Valley looked like something out of a b-rated movie. It looked more like the stereotype than reality, as if space aliens had tried to make an Earthling college based only on their passing familiarity with “Indiana Jones.” The hallways smelled like pencil erasers and teachers wore dusty tweed and moth-eaten earth tone sweaters. The campus was a time capsule, stuck in the middle of a forgotten Georgian town, a town known only for its above average bakery and abandoned brick factory.
Much to his chagrin, Eric became a facet of that forgotten town as well when he chose Nora Valley college as his future alma mater.
Eric lived in the dorms, an untidy collection of numbered brick buildings on the edge of campus. His room was an affront to mankind, but thanks to his athletic scholarship, it was a free affront to mankind. Athletic scholarship, Eric thought, staring at the water stains on his paneled ceiling. Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Nora Valley had a hockey team. It wasn’t much, but Eric knew that if he did well enough, he could earn a transfer scholarship to Samwell University and leave the stifling heat of Georgia behind for good. Two years, he thought, peering at a suspiciously dark crack in the ceiling, listening to his roommate snore in the bed across from him. I guess that’s not too long. I can handle two years.
A week later, he wasn’t so sure.
The hockey team didn’t seem to like him very much. Eric was small, round, and kind. Eric liked cinnamon dolce lattes with extra sugar and pop music with extra pop. The hockey boys were a bunch of burly football rejects with ratty mustaches and a penchant for basketball shorts. Eric was made of sugar, spice, and everything nice; the other boys were made of dirt, old spice, and everything heterosexual.
Eric collapsed no less than a dozen times over the course of his first week, sinking onto the ice as though he might be able to melt through it if he tried hard enough. It was torture.
His classes, at least, were better, easier than the ice’s torment. Most of them were core classes, filled with sleepy teenage hopefuls, exhausted single mothers, and excitable middle-aged lifelong learners. In French, Eric sat next to a girl named Jenna. She was the stereotypical ‘pretty southern girl’: tumbleweed blonde hair, a round physique, and rosy cheeks. Each day, she wore heavy makeup around her eyes and a delicate silver cross around her neck.
“Eric,” she chirped after class one day, voice like birdsong, “it’s Eric, right? I never see you outside of class. You should come hang out at the BSM sometime!”
Eric blinked at her, bleary eyed. It was his first class of the day— he was barely awake. Jenna only laughed. “Oh, you boys are so silly. Ya’ll’d be lost without us girls, huh? Here, take this,” she said, handing him a pamphlet, “I’d love to see you come join us!”
And with that, Jenna trotted away, her bulky keychain jangling against her monogrammed coffee cup. Eric looked down at the card stock she’d forced between his fingers.
Join us at the Nora Valley Baptist Student Ministry! Open every day noon to midnight. Bible study and snacks every Wednesday night. For more info, check out our Facebook page!
Eric swallowed thickly. He hadn’t planned on going to church, now that he was on his own. He didn’t think he could handle it— being lectured about ‘unconditional love’ by people who would cast him aside if they ever knew the truth.
Sighing, he slipped the paper into his backpack and shuffled off to his next class.
The day passed in a blur. Practice was cancelled thanks to the coach, a strange man named Johnson, having a last minute emergency. The e-mail seemed to suggest that Johnson cancelled class out of cosmic necessity; Eric rolled his eyes at that, unsurprised by the poor attempt at a joke. Most of the hockey boys went to go release their frustrations in the gym.
Eric didn’t go to the gym. Instead, he went to the skating rink— unlocked, but empty. Hazy and dim, the rink felt like another world, untouched by time and reality— like a middle school after hours, or an empty football stadium at dusk. Tucked away in the comfort of an empty locker room, Eric reached deep into the bowels of his hockey bag and pulled out a pair of worn Riedell figure skates.
Skating onto the ice unencumbered by hockey gear felt like coming home. Eric glided around the rink for a few moments, letting himself readjust to the sensation of lighter skates and a lighter body. Then, he built up speed, launching himself into a double toe loop. His landing wasn’t perfect, but then, he was out of practice. He tried again, this time landing with the sort of grace that can only be acquired through hours and hours of exhausting practice.
“I never understood how people were able to do that,” came a voice from the sidelines. Eric nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to face the intruder, and saw a dark haired boy wearing a pair of hockey skates tentatively step onto the ice.
The newcomer was tall and broad, but unlike Eric’s hockey compatriots, he wasn’t imposing. His expression was soft and kind with a twinge of melancholy. He was also, much to Eric’s horror, devastatingly handsome.
“Sorry,” the boy added quickly, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I didn’t think anyone would be in here. The hockey team cancelled practice, I thought they were all in the gym right now.”
Eric sighed. “Yeah, I know, I thought nobody would be in here either.” Eric slipped back into his charming, extroverted persona, hoping to cover his disappointment as he said, “That’s alright! My name is Eric. I’m on the hockey team, I’m a freshman, and I live in building 21. Before you ask, yes, building 21 is a nightmare, but at least the hot water works now.” Eric skated forward, extending a hand to the intruder.
The boy’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “You’re on the hockey team?”
“Yeah, I know,” Eric sighed, used to this line of inquiry. “I’m actually a figure skater, or at least I used to be. I couldn’t really do it anymore without moving further north and getting a proper coach and, well, I didn’t have the money. But I wanted to stay on the ice. Truth is, I don’t know much about hockey.”
The boy smiled. “No, you don’t,” he chuckled. “Not that— ah, never mind. My name is Jack,” he said, finally taking Eric’s hand. Eric willed himself not to blush at the brief moment of skin-to-skin contact. Neither of them had bothered to put on gloves. “I study history, but I used to play hockey. I still practice every day—old habits.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack,” Eric said brightly. Jacks eyes were blue, perhaps bluer than Eric had ever seen. Or maybe you’re just super gay, Eric’s subconscious supplied helpfully. Shut up, Eric thought back.
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justlookfrightened · 6 years
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Coach Bitty, Part 4
Now we’re getting somewhere.
To start from the beginning, go to Part 1.
Part 4
Jack was relieved when Bittle was on the ice with a couple of kids on Friday. He made sure not to approach the ice until 3:55, and even then he tried to not scowl when Bittle saw him. Bittle just told the skaters their time was up, nodded at Jack and went to get the Zamboni out.
On Saturday, Bittle was there with the most kids Jack had seen at once. There were four of them, but they weren’t working. They looked like they were playing tag, something no coach of Jack’s had allowed since when? U10? U8?
These kids weren’t much older than that. They seemed younger than the skaters Bittle usually worked with.
Jack watched through the lobby doors long enough to realize that it wasn’t traditional tag, where one person was trying to catch everyone else. No, in this case, all the kids were trying to catch Bittle. And failing.
After a minute or two, Jack decided this could go on for a while, so he pushed the door open. Bittle stopped immediately.
“That’s all for today,” he called loudly enough for all the kids to hear him. “If you can catch me next week, you can skip the power skate then. But for now, I expect to see you all at 9 a.m. Monday.”
There were groans, but they didn’t sound too disappointed.
“Does everybody have a parent or other responsible adult here?” Bittle asked. “If you do, then shoo.”
The kids clomped into the lobby still in their skates, and Jack could only describe the look on Bittle’s face as watched as fond. Once again, Bittle’s cheeks were pink with exertion, and his mouth was shaped in a half-smile. Skating looked good on him.
Bittle turned to Jack, his smile fading.
“I’ll have it done in 10 minutes,” he said.
“You don’t have to hurry,” Jack said.
Then one of the skaters came back, dragging a wheeled gear bag behind her, a worried look on her face.
“Coach Bitty, my dad’s not here,” she said.
“Ok,” Bittle said. “Do you have a phone? Can you call him?”
“No,” the girl said. “I’m not allowed until I’m 11. But I know his phone number.”
“That’s OK. I have his number in my phone. Here, I’ll find it and you can call him, OK? Maybe you can sit right here on the bench while I do the ice for Mr. Zimmermann here. I want you to stay where I can see you, so don’t go in the lobby, and tell your dad he has to come in and get you, all right? If he doesn’t answer, he’s probably on his way. If he doesn’t get here by the time I’m done, we’ll call him again.”
She nodded.
Bittle took another look at here before walking away.
“You have a sweater to put on, Giselle? It’ll be cold in here if you’re not skating.”
When she shook her head, Bittle stripped off his fleece and tugged it over Giselle’s head.
Then he turned to Jack and said, “I really apologize for the delay. Why don’t you go on and get changed and I’ll get  the ice done for you?”
Jack was about to offer to wait with Giselle when he remembered that he was a stranger, and she’d probably be more comfortable if he kept his distance.
“It’s fine,” he said. “These things happen, eh? Are you sure she’ll be ok while you clean the ice?”
Bittle glanced at Giselle, holding his phone to her ear.
“She’ll be fine,” Bittle said. “She’s a tough cookie, aren’t you, Giselle?”
Giselle nodded and put the phone down.
“My dad said he went to the car and it had a flat tire,” she said. “He got an Uber and he’ll be here soon.”
“See,” Bittle said. “Everything will be fine.”
Jack changed and came back to the ice in time to see Bittle putting the Zamboni away.
“Giselle and I can wait in the lobby,” he said to Jack. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can.”
“It’s fine,” Jack said again. “You can stay here if you want, but I’m not going to be doing any fancy moves like you.”
He tapped Giselle’s shoe with his stick to make clear he was talking to her. She giggled, and Bitty said, “What’s your preference, then, Miss Giselle?”
“Here,” she said.
So Bittle took a seat on the bench next to her. Jack smiled at the picture they made as he skated out; Bittle wasn’t a large man, but he was clearly fit. Giselle was tiny enough that his red fleece dwarfed her.
The next time he thought to look for them, they were gone.
********************************
Bitty didn’t give any lessons or supervise training sessions on Sundays. He wasn’t terribly religious – he hadn’t gone to Sunday services regularly since he left Madison – although, if pressed, he would stay he still believed in a benevolent God who loved people. Even the ones his pastor in Georgia disapproved of.
But he also believed that people needed at least one day a week to rest, and he told all of his students to take Sunday off.
“It’s fine if you go swimming with your friends or play a little pickup basketball or something,” he told them. “But no skating, and no real workouts. You need time to relax and time to play.”
He supposed that applied to him as well, but what he most wanted to do was get out on the ice and just skate without having to teach, or worry if he messed up and set a bad example. He supposed that he did his best thinking on the ice, just like Jack Zimmermann.
Which was not something he should probably even know about Jack. (When had he put Jack on a mental first-name basis?) But Shitty had called last night, asked if he could drive up with Lardo and take Bitty out for a beer, and Bitty wasn’t too proud to accept; his own budget didn’t allow many nights out if he had to pay.
He hadn’t expected Shitty to settle into the booth, three beers cradled in his hands, and say, “So, I hear you’ve met Jack Zimmermann.”
“Um, how did you know?” Bitty asked. “You talked to Johnson?”
“A couple of weeks ago,” Shitty said. “But I talked to Jack yesterday.”
“Wait – how do you know Jack?”
“I met him maybe three, four years ago? At a benefit thing where he managed to look like he was as out of place as I was. Anyway, he said something a while ago about wanting to find an out-of-the-way rink where he could skate without anyone bothering him so he could think, and I hooked him up with Johnson. And now he’s talking about this figure skating coach who’s always there.”
“I try to stay out of his way –” Bitty started.
“I didn’t say he was complaining about you. Actually, he said you do one of the best jobs resurfacing the ice that he’s ever seen, which is high praise. But when I said I knew you, it seemed like he wanted to know more, and I didn’t know how much you would want me to share.”
Bitty thought about it. He had nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what the cretins who locked him in a closet in middle school thought.
He’d come north to Samwell on a hockey scholarship, but it hadn’t worked out. He’d been terrified of being checked the whole season, despite the efforts of his teammates to help him get over it. Then, when he did go ass over teakettle in the second-to-last game and ended up missing two weeks of classes with a concussion, he knew he was done.
But his experience around ice rinks had come in handy, and he got a job at the public rink in Samwell, teaching little kids learn-to-skate, skate guarding, staffing the rental booth, eventually sharpening skates and driving the Zamboni. That helped make up for his lost scholarship.
And the hockey team hadn’t dropped him like he thought they would – at least, not all of them. Shitty and Ransom and Holster seemed to think it was their fault he couldn’t make it, and they started coming to public skate, and Lardo once tried to give him her job as manager. Anyway, that led to where he was now.
He doubted Jack Zimmermann would mind that the figure skating coach and Zamboni guy was gay. At least as long as he never knew Bitty saw his ass. He probably would find Bitty’s checking problem laughable, but who cared? Bitty wasn’t sure why Jack Zimmermann was asking about him anyway; maybe he just didn’t run across a lot of new people. He seemed nicer once he got used to a person.
Bitty had shrugged.
“You can tell him,” he said.
Shitty nodded. “I will if he asks again,” he said. “But I told him to ask you himself.”
Bitty had been running over the conversation in his mind while he stepped across the ice, then serpentined, then tried a jump or three. He finished with a long combination spin.
When he moved from his ending position, Jack was there. Of course. And it was only 3:30.
He skated to the side.
“Hi, Mr. Zimmermann. Did you need something?”
“Call me Jack. And I wanted to talk to you.”
“Ok.”
“Uh – it turns out we have a mutual friend,” Jack said.
“Yeah, I saw Shitty and Lardo last night.”
“Oh, ok. Anyway. I think he said he met you on the hockey team at Samwell? So I was wondering if you wanted to shoot some pucks with me?”
Read Part 5
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derek-oluransi · 6 years
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My Immortal Check Please Chapter 3-4
Y’ALL ARE FUCKING TERRIBLE FOR ENABLING THIS
a continuation of this
On the night of the game I put on my black adidas slides. Underneath were white socks that came up to mid calf. Then I put on a shirt that says “hockey” on the front (across my chest) and a red flannel over top of it. I put on a pair of basketball shorts with athletic leggings underneath. I also had on my favourite Pens hat. I sat in my room watching World War II documentaries for a bit before the game. I drank some gatorade so I was ready to go to the concert.
I went downstairs. Bittle was waiting there in front of his flying oven. He was wearing a white button up shirt with white shorts that stopped at his knees with a black Gucci belt and boat shoes (because he had to do it to em). He had his nail done in a full manicure (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).
“Hi Bittle!” I said in an anxious voice.
“Hi Jack.” he said back. We walked to his flying oven, Betsy (her timer said 115) and flew to the arena with the game. On the way we listened to country music. We both drank gatorade. When we got there, we both hopped out of the oven. We went to the front row seats Bittle got us tickets for and cheered with the crowd to the game.
(I don’t know anything about hockey games so pretend it was really cool and really intense)
“Crosby is so fucking hot.” I said to Bittle, pointing to him as he skated by, exciting the crowd with his hockey moves.
Suddenly Bittle looked sad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as we cheered with the crowd. Then I caught on.
“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I said.
“Really?” asked Bittle sensitively and he put his hand on mine all gentle.
“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Crosby that well and he’s probably gonna get traded to the fucking Aces. I fucking hate that team.” I said disgustedly, thinking of the ugly black logo.
The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Bittle. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Crosby and Fleury for their autographs and photos with them. We got Pens jerseys. Bittle and I crawled back into the oven, but Bittle didn’t want to back to Samwell, instead he drove the oven into… Providence, Rhode Island!
Chapter 4
“BITTLE!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
Bittle didn’t answer but he stopped the flying oven and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.
“What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily.
“Jack?” he asked.
“What?” I snapped.
Bittle leaned in extra-close and I looked into his chocolate brown eyes (he was wearing lighter color contacts) which revealed so much emotion and closetness and then suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore.
And then… suddenly just as I Bittle kissed me passionately. Bittle climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took off his clothes. I even took of my hat. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then….
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!”
It was…..Coach Hall!
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zimms · 3 years
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it pains me how many broken links there are on the extras page of the omgcp wiki. how many illustrations we've lost....
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legojacques · 7 years
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Legojacques’ Tumblr Fics Masterlist
Hey, you! Yes, you!
Are you interested in reading fics where Kenny P accidentally adopts a dragon? Or, fics that feature his dark-haired teammate with the ambiguous basketball nickname? Or, how about multiple fics from his cat’s point of view? Or, even just some good, ol’ positive fics featuring our favourite Las Vegas captain because you’re sick of the hate in the tags. It’s all here!
Parse not your jam? No problem!
I’ve got some classic Zimbits for you. AU fics where Jack is a little shit who pretends he can’t speak English? I’ve got that! How about the softest of fics where Jack and Bitty take the baby out for a drive? You betcha! A fic where Bitty is the face of Samwell and suddenly Jack is interested? Yup!
I’ve got so many fics and headcanons for you, featuring rare pairs such as: Whiskey/Dex, Jack /Ransom, and yes, even the very brief post that helped launch Bitty/Johnson.
So come on down to my newly organized master list of my writing! Waiting for you are bite-sized ficlets and posts that are all organized by pairing and labeled for all your fic-finding needs!
* = Personal favourite and recommended reading
Bitty/Jack (Zimbits)
*-Jack and Bitty makeup after a fight
-Jack likes to take Bitty to museums
-Jack interferes when Bitty is trying to film his cooking show
*-It’s Always Been You (Ao3) - AU, Jack and Bitty accidentally swap phones.
*-Jack and Bitty both own bakeries and Jack can’t stop sneaking over to Bitty’s (AU)
-Jack as a parent (Bullet points, ZimmerKids)
*-Bitty eats his icecream and Jack can’t look away
*-Bitty’s bakery has a break in and Jack is the cop on the case (AU)
*-Bitty models for Samwell promotional material (AU where Bitty is not on the hockey team)
-Domestic, quiet mornings with Jack and Bitty
-Bitty is the bachelor on a dating show (AU)
-Bitty accidentally gets sent back in time (Back to Future AU)
-Bitty feeds Jack (slight nsfw suggestions, bullet points)
*-Jack gets back into bed on Christmas morning (ZimmerKids)
-Bitty make an innuendo about Santa and the group chat explodes
-Jack is building a deck and Bitty calls Alicia
-Jack misses Bitty
*-The baby won’t stop crying until they put her in the car and drive around (ZimmerKids)
*-Jack is a writer and Bitty is his housekeeper. Jack pretends he doesn’t speak English. (Love Actually AU)
-Jack wants Bitty to model for his photography class (AU)
-Jack is turned into a cat and Bitty takes care of a stray that he found (AU)
*-Bitty is an Apple store employee and Jack broke his phone (AU)
*-Jack loses his kid in a game of hide and seek (ZimmerKids)
*-Jack catches his kids making a mess in the kitchen (ZimmerKids)
*-Bitty works in a grocery store is annoyed that Jack won’t put anything back in the right place (grocery store AU)
*-Grocery store AU bonus innuendos (Bullet points)
*-Bitty is a cookbook writer and Jack buys his book (AU)
-Jack has a panic attack and hides in the same closet as Bitty
-Jack has a minor anxiety break down and calls Bitty
*-Jack stops for fast food with his twin kids
*-Jack shows his affection by bringing Bitty small gifts
*-Bitty gets snowed in and trapped in a small town
-Bitty is forced to visit a museum and Jack is a historical reenactor
*-Jack is an undercover spy at a party
-Jack has a photography exhibit but then the police show up
-Bitty’s thoughts on chicken tenders
*-Bitty, Jack, and their twin toddlers celebrate Easter
Bitty/Jack/Kent OT3 (Pimbits, PB&J)
-Kent can’t stand Bitty’s fannypack
-Kent and Bitty get bored of Jack’s documentaries
*-Jack and Bitty come to see Kent (Kit POV)
-The boys go fishing (Bullet point)
Bitty/Kent (Bittyparse)
-Anything Can Happen (AO3) - Kent invites Eric to spend the weekend with him in Las Vegas.
*-Bitty feels bad that Kent is drinking all alone at the bar (AU)
-Bitty and Kent go shopping for things in their apartment
-Bitty returns Kent’s cat (AU)
Kent/Jeff Troy a.k.a Swoops (Parswoops, Troyson)
-Kent gets in an argument with Swoops
-Kent and Swoops watch rom coms
*-Kent stresses over what to get for Swoops’ birthday
*-Kent and Jack compete against each other (background Zimbits)
*-Jeff is a photographer for the Aces (AU)
-Kent makes sure the baby is okay in the middle of the night
*-The Aces play matchmaker
*-Kit is Kent’s (reluctant) guardian angel and brings him a boyfriend (Kit POV)
-Kent shows Swoops pictures of Kit in a bar
*-Everyone draws the wrong conclusion from a picture Kent posts online
-Swoops shows up unexpectedly on Christmas morning
-Kent and Swoops are at the olympics where they meet a famous figure skater 
Nursey/Dex (Nurseydex)
-Nursey finds out he has to interview the guy he slept with last night (AU)
-Nursey wakes up in the hospital
-Dex gets a bloody nose and Nursey takes care of him
-Nursey gets a bit jealous and possessive
*-Nursey keeps writing love poems for someone and Dex gets jealous
-Nursey has a public sex kink (slight nsfw suggestions, bullet points)
Kent/Tater (Patater)
-Tater keeps saying “I ship it” incorrectly (Tater/Kent)
-Tater and Kent visit Kent’s mother and look through his childhood photos (Tater/Kent)
-Tater and Kent have rival restaurants (Short summary, Bob’s Burger’s AU, Kent/Tater)
-Kent has a hairless cat and Tater has a pug; they bond over ugly pets
-Kent and Tater keep their relationship a secret
-Kent is learning Russian when Tater gets traded to the Aces
Other Pairs
-Tango sees Bitty for the first time (one-sided crush, Bitty/Tango)
*-Shitty is the best art critic (Shitty/Lardo)
-Holster thinks Jack is trying to steal his best friend (Jack/Ransom)
*-Whisky keeps breaking things to get Dex to fix them (Whiskey/Dex)
-Whiskey and Dex can’t agree when their anniversary is (Whiskey/Dex)
-Kent runs into his childhood best friend (Kent/OMC)
-Bittyholtz musings (Bullet points)
-Kent misses Jack (one-sided, Kent/Jack)
-Dex kisses Holster at a party (Dex/Holster)
*-Kent writes a letter to Jack (Kent/Jack)
-Johnson realizes he’s not meant to end up with Bitty (Johnson/Bitty)
-In which Bitty ends up with Shitty (AU, short summary, Shitty/Bitty)
-They both hate hockey team (Editor in Chief/Fry Guy)
-Bob has a twin brother and through a mix-up, Alicia thinks he’s his twin (Bob/Alicia)
-Jack’s birthday brings back memories for Kent (Kent/Jack)
-Ransom and Holster propose to each other (Ransom/Holster)
-Bob buys Alicia hot chocolate
-Holster comforts Ransom after he’s hurt (Ransom/Holster)
Non-Pairing
-If Bitty were on a Great British Bake Off-esque kind of show (Bullet points)
-Jack as a children’s author (Bullet Points)
-Holster and Ransom play Calvinball
-Jack and Ransom smuggle Canadian snacks (Headcanon)
-Senor Bun’s POV (Bullet points)
-SMH’s childhood toys (Bullet points)
-Lego Bitty meets Lego Jack (Bullet points)
-Hockey mom Lardo (Bullet points)
-Headcanon of Holster as an actor
-Headcanon of Holster as an actor pt 2 (Bullet point)
-Headcanons for Swoops (Bullet point)
-Roll Up the Rim is back; Jack and Ransom are excited
-Jack shows Tater how to Roll Up the Rim
-Jack shoots a heartwarming Amazon Prime commercial
-Bitty and Tater are private detectives (AU, bullet points)
-Tater and jam (headcanon)
*-Little Jack falls asleep on Bob
*-Holster and Ransom’s new Friday night routine
-Ransom discovers Holster can be a coral reef sometimes
Kent Parson Centric, Non Pairing
-Mama Parson thoughts (Bullet Points)
-Kent cries over cats he wants to adopt (Short headcanon)
-Kent and Bitty as Lilo and Stitch
-Kent and the rookie player
-Kent is shocked to find Swoops’ real name from Johnson
-Kent shoots a heartwarming Amazon Prime commercial
-Johnson shows up with a new cat for Kent
-Kent stumbles home drunk and upset
-Kent babysits for his teammate and plays kittens
Kit Purrson Centric
-Kent smuggles his cat and gets caught (Short headcanon)
-Kent and the Purrito
-Kate Pawson, Kent’s other cat (Bullet points)
-Kit and her bow tie collection (Bullet points)
*-How to (Kind Of) Train Your Dragon Pt 1 - Kent accidentally acquires a dragon
*-How to (Kind Of) Train Your Dragon Pt 2 - Kent is a dragon dad now
*-Kit goes missing (Sixth Sense AU, Warning: off screen animal death)
*-Kit is a witch’s familiar (Kit POV)
-Kent saves a kitten at a kid’s birthday party
*-Kit wants to come along on Kent’s trips
*-Kent is sad and Kit wants to cheer him up (Kit POV)
*-Kent’s childhood cat, Snowball (cat POV, off-screen animal death)
-Kit climbs the Christmas tree
Kit and Junior the Puppy Series
*-Kit and Junior: the new puppy
-Kit and Junior: the monster in the house
-Kit and Junior: Junior asks too many questions
-Kit and Junior: Swoops comes to visit
-Kit and Junior: Junior is afraid of fireworks
-Kit and Junior: Junior breaks something
-Kit and Junior: Kent and Swoops finally admit they like each other (Parswoops)
-Kit and Junior: Kent gets sick (Parswoops)
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madlori · 7 years
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Hockey, the FAQ edition
As a follow-up to my Hockey Quick and Dirty post, I present this, a list of questions I have been asked by friends and family members and random people on the interwebs.
1. Why doesn’t Canada have its own hockey league?
They do. The NHL is really the North American hockey league. Seven of the 31 teams are Canadian teams. The reason there are more American teams is just...well, we have more cities large enough to support a team, although there’s perpetual talk of a team returning to Hamilton, ON, which used to have a team but hasn’t in forever, or to Quebec City. Hockey was invented in Montreal and traces its origins to 1917 when four teams came together, including the Montreal Canadiens, the longest continuously-existing team in the league (the Ottawa Senators were also there in 1917 but they went away and then came back). The Boston Bruins were the first US team. There was lots of flux until 1942 when the league settled into a 25 year stretch of what is now called the Original Six teams: the Montreal Canadiens, Toronto Maple Leafs, Boston Bruins, Chicago Blackhawks, Detroit Red Wings, and New York Rangers. Those were the only teams in the league until 1967 when a massive expansion happened and they added 6 new teams. More teams were added over the years to get us to our current 31. The most recent (completed) expansion was in 2000 when the Minnesota Wild and the Columbus Blue Jackets were added, and in 2011 the Atlanta Thrashers were moved to Winnipeg to reinvent the Jets. Now there’s the new Vegas team, too.
Which is probably more information than you wanted.
I might point out that there is such a thing as the Canadian Hockey League - but that's a major junior hockey league, for players ages 16-20 (or until they're drafted or go to college or whatever). The CHL is an umbrella organization with three member leagues, the WHL (Western Hockey League), the OHL (Ontario Hockey League) and most famously the QMJHL (the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League). This last is ubiquitous enough that it's simply referred to as "The Q" (as in "Yeah, we played in the Q together."). The US doesn't really have an analagous organization, but it is also much more common for American players to go to college. The CHL leagues are major feeders for the NHL draft. The CHL leagues are, in fact, professional leagues - the players are paid. Not much, but they're paid. If you read "Check, Please!" this is a point of inaccuracy which Ngozi freely admits to screwing up - Jack Zimmermann played in the Q, but since it's a professional league, he would not have then been eligible to play NCAA hockey at Samwell. Oh well.
2. Why haven’t any modern players beaten Wayne Gretzky’s records? Lame.
Heh. Gretzky’s records will probably never be broken, but it’s not because the players now suck. It’s because changes to the game over the last 20 years, and especially since 2005, have made it all but impossible. Overall, scoring in the league has decreased about 20% since Wayne and Mario were playing. This is a combination of training (the players have a much higher level of training and experience now, making it harder to get past them and score), goalie equipment, and the salary cap (which is an entirely other topic).  It is worth noting that even with adjustments for era (there’s math that can be done to correct for this effect) both Gretzky and Mario Lemieux were freakishly good.
3. Have any teams never won the Cup?
Oh yes, tons of teams have never won it. In fact of the 30 current NHL teams, a whopping 12 have never won the Cup. And then there’s the Maple Leafs, who haven’t won it in 48 years. But the team that everyone talks about on this topic is the Washington Capitals, who have been...well, at this point I’m just gonna say cursed. They’ve won the President’s Trophy (that’s for having the highest point total in the regular season) three times in the salary cap era, their captain, Alex Ovechkin, has won the goal-scoring title a totally ridiculous six times (out of the 13 years he’s played in the NHL), they tend to dominate in the regular season and then...can’t quite get there. In fact they haven’t even made it to the Stanley Cup Finals since 1998. Nobody knows how this keeps happening. The Penguins are a bit of a nemesis for them. They cannot seem to beat them in the postseason. And since they’re in the same division, the Caps will always have to go through the Penguins to get to the final, in any year that both teams qualify for the postseason.
4. What happens to the ice between games?
I LOVE THIS QUESTION because I weirdly find logistics fascinating because I am a giant nerd. 
Answer: nothing! It’s still there. Arenas where hockey is played host other events as well. Many hockey teams share their arena with an NBA team - both the Rangers and the Knicks play at Madison Square Garden, and the Kings and the Lakers both play at the Staples Center. In addition, most of these arenas frequently host concerts, speeches, conventions, stuff like that. Coordinating all these schedules must be a nightmare and I'm glad I don't have to do it. I mean, the Knicks and the Rangers can't have a home game on the same night so does the NHL and the NBA work together on the schedule? I don't know. A lot of spreadsheets must be involved.
Obviously the ice surface is the most difficult to establish and maintain. They can't possibly destroy and re-make the ice between every game. So once the ice surface is created for the season, it remains there until the hockey season is over. If you've ever been to a concert or another sporting event at an arena that also hosts hockey, during the hockey season? The ice was there, just covered up. Some arenas leave the boards up, depending on what's coming in next. The nets, glass, player benches and penalty boxes are removed and seats are moved in. The ice itself is covered first with insulating rubber, then with flooring, then with whatever surface is required for the next event on the schedule. If it's an NBA game, a basketball court is smaller than a hockey rink so the court surface is brought in and the courtside seating is set up. Arena crews do this overnight superfast. They're really good at it. There are some fascinating time-lapse videos on YouTube of arena crews doing this changeover.
Here’s one of my favorites: a time-lapse video of 72 hours at Nationwide Arena (Columbus’s arena) showing them transitioning from hockey, to a concert, to basketball, and back to hockey:
https://youtu.be/sjpoTokyvVs
Once the hockey season is over, the ice surface is chiseled up and disposed of till next season. The Penguins did a cute thing this year where they let fans come in and paint messages and pictures onto the ice before it's taken up.
5. Why is Sidney Crosby considered the greatest hockey player in the world? He doesn't seem like all that.
Yeah, I know he might not, but he is. If you ask 100 hockey pros (writers, players, coaches) who the greatest player is, you'll probably get about 90% agreement, if not more. The thing about Sid is that he's great in ways that aren't casually apparent. He's not flashy (well, he can be - if he goes to one knee to shoot say your prayers - but usually not so much) and some of his most important skills aren't exciting except to other people who either play hockey or spend all their time watching it and thinking/writing about it. He's not out there doing trick shots or scoring on huge slappers. Not a lot of people are going to get all hot and bothered over puck protection skills, but that's the kind of stuff that wins games.
Sid isn't primarily a goal-scorer, although he's more than capable of scoring (he won the goal-scoring title this year, and has done it once before). He's a guy who creates offense. People who've played with him or coached him talk about his near-spooky ability to "see the ice" - hockey talk for playing chess in your head with the puck. He can see what's going to happen and know where to place himself and the puck to enable a goal to be scored, whether it's by him or one of his wingers. He's somewhat notorious for having trouble finding wingers who can play with him, and this is why - his wingers need to be good at this, too, to keep up with him, and it's not a universal skill.
Other players also talk about how difficult he is to defend because he's near impossible to knock off the puck. Part of this is...okay, let's just put it out there, it's genetics. You know how Michael Phelps is an amazing swimmer partly because he lucked into the perfect body shape for it? Sid lucked into the ideal hockey body. He has a ginormous ass and thighs like flying buttresses, plus he's short and has a low center of gravity. There are amusing YouTube compilations of defensemen trying to check him and just sort of...bouncing off. Sorry, thanks for playing.
So it's not always obvious why he's great. On the other hand, sometimes he'll do some insane shit like score by bouncing a puck off the goalie's back, passing to a teammate between his legs behind his back without looking, or streaking up the ice half off his balance and score off a one-handed backhand shot and you're like...okay yeah, I get it now.
If you want some numbers, here you go. One of the most important player stats is points per game, which is a straight-up measurement of a player's offensive power. Sidney Crosby ranks FIFTH in points per game...ALL-TIME. The only players ahead of him are Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, Mike Bossy and Bobby Orr, and those four guys are basically the Mt. Rushmore of hockey. And that's WITHOUT any corrections for era (see the answer above about Gretzky's records).
Just for a little point of comparison, three current NHL players hit the 1000 point mark this season (that's a big deal). The first was Henrik Sedin. It took him 1213 games to reach that milestone. The second was Sid's main rival in the "greatest player" thing, Alex Ovechkin. It took him 880 games to hit 1000 points. Sid did it in 757 games. Only 11 players in NHL history have done it faster.
6. So...fighting is really and truly just...allowed?
For certain values of “allowed.” It happens, the refs know it’s gonna happen, a real fight is almost always somewhat planned. Players get into minor scuffles, pushy-pushy, sweary-sweary all the time - those aren’t fights. Capital-F Fights are when the gloves come off, punches are thrown, the players keep each other from piling on, the refs just sort of let them fight it out. When they’re done they’ll usually both get a penalty of some kind, either fighting or roughing. 
7. Who the hell are the Habs? That...isn’t a team.
The Montreal Canadiens are called the “Habs” colloquially (it’s short for Les Habitants, the French-Canadian term for Canadiens). Several teams have nicknames. The Tampa Bay Lightning are often called the Bolts - in fact, that nickname is on their third jersey. The other teams’ nicknames are usually just the shortened form of their actual name (the Caps, the Sens, the Hawks, the Pens, etc).
8. What’s this points stuff? Why aren’t standings by W/L?
Because hockey is special and wants you to know about it. Team standings in hockey are not determined by win/loss record, but by total points. You get two points for a win, zero points for a regulation loss, but -- and here’s the difference -- you get one point for a loss in overtime. This is sometimes called the “loser point” and it’s relatively new. It’s like getting partial credit for a tie. A team’s total points is the sum of wins + OT losses. A team can have fewer wins but more points than another team if that first team had a lot of OT losses. Ties are pretty common in hockey, being generally low-scoring, and it’s well worth the effort to try and tie up the game (resulting in heart-taxing strategies like pulling the goalie) because not only could you then go on to win in OT but you’ll at least get one point just for ending regulation in a tie.
9. What’s with the tape on their socks?
Hockey gear is complicated. The players wear chest/shoulder pads, elbow pads, helmets, hockey pants (which have built-in kidney protectors), shin guards, and skates. Hockey socks are actually hip-high - they go way up underneath the pants. Here’s an image for you - pro hockey players actually wear garter belts under their pants. The socks clip to the belts to keep them up. But players also use clear tape wrapped around their shins to keep their socks in place over the top of their shinpads (which are underneath the socks). Each player has their own special way of taping their socks. And taping their sticks. And putting on their gear. And breathing, probably.
10. Hey, the goalie's buggered off again, but it's like the middle of the second period. You said that happens at the end of games.
I did say that, yeah.
So WTF?
What you're seeing is the result of a delayed penalty. That's...a whole thing.
Hit me with the thing.
Okay, you asked for it. So here's the scenario. Let's imagine a game between...oh, let's say the Capitals and the Sharks. The Capitals have the puck, they're charging toward the goal to score. But oh no, one of the Sharks trips a Capitals defenseman! Penalty! The penalty will benefit the Capitals, but they would really rather keep possession of the puck and complete their scoring opportunity. To get the power play they are now owed, they'd have to stop, change lines, have another faceoff - and sacrifice the puck possession and scoring opportunity they already have. So the penalty is delayed until the Capitals lose possession or score.
Well, that means...what, exactly? It means that the second one of the Sharks takes possession of the puck, play will be stopped and the penalty will go into effect. So the Capitals are in absolutely zero danger of being scored on right now. Play will be stopped the second they lose puck possession. So they might as well pull their goalie and put another skater on the ice, and give themselves a better chance to score, right?  So that's what usually happens. A delayed penalty is like getting a little bit extra on that power play you're about to have, except you get a brief period of 6-on-5 before your 5-on-4.
You might think this happens all the time, but it really doesn't. Definitely not every game.
Well, this concludes this edition of Hockey FAQ with Lori the Hockey Noob. I welcome your questions if you have them. If I don't know the answer I'll find out.
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I was trying to put some of Bitty’s tweets in order for a small screencap but then it just turned out to be easier??? to format the entire month of March 2016??? IDEK a little bit of computer code is a dangerous thing to know
ANYWAY. As available here, except in chronological order, here are Bitty’s most recently-released tweets:
1  @omgcheckplease:  I refuse to talk about politics, but I literally let out a sigh of relief when coach told me who he voted for. <3 THANKS, POP!
2  @omgcheckplease:  Personally? I'd teach the finer workings of Samwell hockey anywhere but on that upholstered cesspool we call a couch, but I trust Lardo.
3  @omgcheckplease:  Lardo: And if someone's late you just write it down. If someone doesn't show let RH know. Ford: RH. RansomHolster. Got it. Lardo: 'swawes.
4  @omgcheckplease:  Ford: Right. I get that it's positive? But why do you guys say 'swawesome? Me: You'll find something weirder to worry about soon enough.
5  @omgcheckplease:  Nursey: Hey, Las Vegas is playing Providence tonight. Dex: Uh oh. Jack versus Parse. Dex: I'm obvs rooting for Jack but that should be good.
6  @omgcheckplease:  I shouldn't be thinking about jam this much, but here I am. Thank my wonderful aunt.
7  @omgcheckplease:  NHL players like pie--but also mason jars filled w/ jam prepared according to an old family & aunt-perfected recipe. (A lil' bird told me.)
8  @omgcheckplease:   But when your friend asks you to make a batch, does he mean enough for his team? Does that include the coaching staff?
9  @omgcheckplease:  Whew! Now I can hit the hay. #PVDFalconers!
10  @omgcheckplease:  What Ransom &I Talk About: - Hockey / The underclassmen - Life plans - Music - Dating and significant others. - Alexei Mashkov's instagram
11  @omgcheckplease:  Tango: I had a date to homecoming my senior year, but before that I was homecoming alone. Nursey: PFFFFFT. Dex: Jesus, Tango. Chowder:...OH
12  @omgcheckplease:  Picked up my phone to capture that poor child Tango's words in tweet form.
13  @omgcheckplease:  The #GoPVDFalconers appreciate their fans; I appreciate the #GoPVDFalconers; I therefore appreciate all Falconers fans!! <3
14  @omgcheckplease:  I'm nervous because I'm always nervous before hockey...but I've never seen Ransom and Holster so jittery.
15  @omgcheckplease:  But for good reason. #ECACHockey QTR Finals, here we come.
16  @omgcheckplease:  I'm excited for my day or three of visiting a special someone (<3), but I need to give this team 100% of my focus. #SamwellMensHockey
17  @omgcheckplease:  #GotYourBack
18  @omgcheckplease:  Tough loss. Thank you to everyone who made it out. #samwellhockey #ECACHockey
19  @omgcheckplease:  It's good to have someone who understands and can talk you through a loss, get you grounded for the next game. <3
20  @omgcheckplease:  Getting pump up texts from former teammates is one thing; getting texts from pros with no Samwell affiliation is another! #GoPVDFalconers
21  @omgcheckplease:  Y'all've seen Tater's instagram--I'm still not sure what all those parenthesis are supposed to mean???
22  @omgcheckplease:  Hey, y'all. Thanks so much to everyone who supported us this season! All the love in the stands and around campus means everything. <3
23  @omgcheckplease:  I'm so thankful for our seniors--our captains & our team manager--for giving us 110% of themselves. They exemplify the team motto. <3
24  @omgcheckplease:  Lots of love for Samwell hockey these last few days. Going to spend the break focusing on this team and our seniors especially.
25  @omgcheckplease:  Oh, my heart "hi b! hearing news..........(((" "thank u for jam! so good)))"
26  @omgcheckplease:  Doing some spring cleaning before I go and watch some games hosted by the national professional ice hockey league.
27  @omgcheckplease:  That Lardo and Ransom are finally organizing themselves for their birthdays their *senior* year is somehow appropriate. It's gonna be big.
28  @omgcheckplease:  I'm not even going to pretend that I retained MAX 5% of the French I learned. Y'all everyone has their talents; language is not mine.
29  @omgcheckplease:  Like, I remember some phrases & can read and understand more than I can speak? But If I had to call an ambulance in Marseille, I'd perish.
30  @omgcheckplease:  A beautiful language! I wish I were better! Oh and the pronunciation I learned is all jumbled up with Quebecois in my fool mind.
31  @omgcheckplease:  Why is it that I'm not at the Haus when the legendary Shitty Knight is back in town wreaking havoc in Samwell, MA?
32  @omgcheckplease:  oh smh group text is
33  @omgcheckplease:  Shitty: everyone knock on all the wood around you but can we give it up for JLZ & the Falcs Shitty: summer vacay we're smashed in Welltown
34  @omgcheckplease:  Lardo: I need to beat Alexei Mashkov at beer pong.
35  @omgcheckplease:  Jack: haha he's serious about that. Lardo: then why has it taken so long Lardo: time and place Shitty: yessss that's my girl
36  @omgcheckplease:  Tater is literally twice the mass of Larissa Duan.
37  @omgcheckplease:  Anyway! Back to (#) (◡‿◡) (!)
38  @omgcheckplease:  Ransom has his computer and Lardo is writing lists. They're up to something.
39  @omgcheckplease:  Nursey just texted me that he really needs "baked goods" this afternoon. I wonder why he's having a bad day?
40  @omgcheckplease:  Well! I'll be cooking for most of the day anyway! Because y'all? Jam is in **demand**
41  @omgcheckplease:  WHEW. There's something comforting about a warm kitchen full of mason jars.
42  @omgcheckplease:  The situation: A friend of a friend got hold of my aunt's jam, & now a good portion of a pro. hockey team is on a jam (or pie) waitlist.
43  @omgcheckplease:  He's got more important things to focus on at the moment, but a member of that team should be by this week to pick up the goods!
44  @omgcheckplease:  I'm being *so* vague. Y'all'll *never* guess which former Samwell hockey captain and #GoPVDFalconers star will be dropping by for jam.
45  @omgcheckplease:   And I really don't mind! I should be doing my reading for Alice, but she's getting jars too. Y'all, what's spring break FOR?
46  @omgcheckplease:  Dex just showed up, saw the chaos, and dropped his backpack in the corner. Dex: Need help? Me: Bless your heart.
47  @omgcheckplease:  Only on very rare occasions do I use that phrase with good will and a positive intent. <3 These frogs.
48  @omgcheckplease:  Nursey: He only wants your dibs. Dex: (1) Bitty's not graduating. (2) You know that people are capable of doing things for others, right?
49  @omgcheckplease:   Nursey: He only wants your jam. Dex: Dex: Bitty I wasn't going to say anything but it's my mom's birthday next week and
50  @omgcheckplease:  She's up to something.
51  @omgcheckplease:  This t-shirt might smell like cherries for the rest of its existence.
52  @omgcheckplease:  All these girls out here with majors like "engineering", "art", "cs", & "poli sci". I'm literally trying to graduate by writing a pie essay.
53  @omgcheckplease:   *A very lengthy pie essay. Unfurling the shifting roles of baked goods in specific historic eras is copious research.
54  @omgcheckplease:  Coach: How's school? Me: My GPA's at [OMITTED], meeting w/ my American Studies adviser on my thesis Coach: History? Me: Me: Pie history.
55  @omgcheckplease:  Holster: what ever happened to the better bitty's butt thing or whatever? Ransom: oh the bureau? i'm not saying we achieved goals but.
56  @omgcheckplease:  *Ahem* Though not much has changed I feel more confident in my assets. It was about bettering the bitty and not the booty all along.
57  @omgcheckplease:  Aw, well Ford sent out a lovely email to the boys. She's getting good practice in.
58  @omgcheckplease:   By lovely I mean a detailed schedule of dates for spring semester conditioning, but you get me.
59  @omgcheckplease:  I've been so focused on the making of pies & jam that I haven't noticed the STORM on the horizon. Hurricane Lardo&Rans are up to something.
60  @omgcheckplease:  They're not trying to hide anything from me, but this might have to do with the kegster they're planning. Or Lardo's birthday?
61  @omgcheckplease:  Or Rans'--their bdays are so close together. I gotta tie ribbons on a few dozen mason jars, I'll report when Holster spills the beans.
62  @omgcheckplease:  I ALMOST JUST DROPPED A JAR OF JAM.
63  @omgcheckplease:  Y'all the #EasterKegHunt, the Sunday kegster, and the birthdays are *all ONE THING*
64  @omgcheckplease:  =Group Text= Me: When were y'all going to tell me about this GIANT KEGSTER? Rans: I think we did. Lardo: p sure we did Dex: yuuuup
65  @omgcheckplease:  Chowder: u guys order the kegs in the kitchen! Holster: Bitty, kinda late, but you've been in a weird jam headspace for the last few days.
66  @omgcheckplease:  Okay, Nursey and Dex are downstairs and are going to help me out. I'm so confused.
67  @omgcheckplease:  I guess...I did make a lot of jam. It all happened so fast. These can all fit in Jack's car, right? He'd make two trips.
68  @omgcheckplease:  I'm going to bake a pie to recalibrate.
69  @omgcheckplease:  Jack: How much is there? Me: A few jars! Holster: Jack, we have the highest jam per capita in the state of Massachusetts.
70  @omgcheckplease:  Jack: It can't fit in one car? Please send a picture. Lardo: lol bring a friend Lardo:....bring tater
71  @omgcheckplease:  I've stepped out the Haus and can see the volume of jam I produced. I should have stuck to the rivers and lakes that I was used to.
72  @omgcheckplease:  New Falconers faceoffs for your AM viewing.
73  @omgcheckplease:  =On Shorts= Whiskey: Yeah. They don't look good on the average man. Tango: My legs get so hot. Whiskey: Well. Golf & basketball shorts.
74  @omgcheckplease:  Whiskey: swim trunks. I guess athletics shorts are fine. Tango: Mosquito bites when you're wearing jeans. Can never really get 'em.
75  @omgcheckplease:  Tango: when it comes to clothes, I just wear whatever and go. Whiskey: I'm taking the last pie slice.
76  @omgcheckplease:  I have no idea why I love these tadpoles so much, but I do.
77  @omgcheckplease:  Waking up to the sound of wheelbarrows and dollies thumping around downstairs. It's #KeagsterSunday.
78  @omgcheckplease:  Ah! Guess who's here and brought a friend!
79  @omgcheckplease:  Jack just sighed and looked at me. "Hey, Happy Easter. What's the jam situation?" Good morning to you too.
80  @omgcheckplease:  He actually said hi though. I'm paraphrasing. He's absolutely not ready though.
81  @omgcheckplease:  Tater: Hey, Zimmboni this not bad for uni party hauses, you know? Clean floor... Tater: [points] Wow curtain!
82  @omgcheckplease:  The Swallow moves fast, but these hockey players and these mason jars should be out of here soon.
83  @omgcheckplease:  But of course Alexei Mashkov wants a TOUR. "College! Yeah, show me everything!"
84  @omgcheckplease:  Whiskey and Tango looking very nice in suits. Jack: Hey [picks up box of jam] Whiskey: do you need help with that we can if you do but yeah
85  @omgcheckplease:  Tango:...Is Jack Zimmermann stealing Bitty's jam?
86  @omgcheckplease:  = Group Text = Nursey: whens the easter keg hunt Lardo: later Jack: hey y'all! You should drop by before Jack and Tater head out!
87  @omgcheckplease:  = Group Text = Jack: i'm on Jack's phone. Dex: The y'all sorta tipped it off.
88  @omgcheckplease:  Me: So that was *my* room, and this used to be Jack's, and down the hall are the stairs to the attic. Me: Oh hi Rans. Rans: .............T-
89  @omgcheckplease:   I think he just woke up.
90  @omgcheckplease:  Okay, we're all done here! I was about to put on a brunch for our lovely guests but *somebody* said quote: "Bits, you really don't have to."
91  @omgcheckplease:  Well, I was just *trying* to say goodbye to these young men when the door to the backyard opened. It was Lardo.
92  @omgcheckplease:  Lardo: Alexei Mashkov. Tater: [turns around slowly] Tater: ... Tater: Lardo.
93  @omgcheckplease:  Well, I'm starting brunch while Tater and Lardo sort all this out. Please don't get beer all over my clean floors.
94  @omgcheckplease:   *lunch with brunch food. Drat, it's too late for a ham. Well, we can only do our best, can't we?
95  @omgcheckplease:  Jack: where's Rans? Holster: Hiding. Holster: Didn't you guys say you were heading out like two hours ago? Jack: Yes.
96  @omgcheckplease:  I have no idea how many rounds they've played but Tater is shouting "best 7! best 7!" This food is gonna get cold.
97  @omgcheckplease:  Jack keeps asking Lardo and Tater if they want food. Instead, a shout--"Tango, bring me a plate. With food ON IT."
98  @omgcheckplease:  From the hallway. "WHAT! NO! No no no! No way!!! Best NINE!!!!!!"
99  @omgcheckplease:  Rans & Lardo made an event for a #KeagsterSunday Pre-game Kegster Hunt and and wellies are...beginning to show up. Um?
100  @omgcheckplease:  For the record, Tater's playing with water. Lardo's playing with who knows what.
101  @omgcheckplease:  Jack: Ok. Let's head out. Tater: Hey, it's fine! I mean, i'm doing better with crowd.
102  @omgcheckplease:  All right, Jack's cutting things short. ("COME ON, ZIMMERMANN!" "ZIMMBONI IT'S TIE!!!!" "No. You guys can have a rematch later.")
103  @omgcheckplease:   He's serious...
104  @omgcheckplease:  Jack went up to the attic to wish his our captain a happy birthday...And they're off. Lardo and Tater are...friends? Colleagues?
105  @omgcheckplease:  Oh my goodness. Whenever we decide to name a kegster, something strange is bound to happen. #KeagsterSunday
106  @omgcheckplease:  You're not doing college right if you're not finding easter eggs filled with miniature liquor in your backyard.
107  @omgcheckplease:  And yes, they do make mini kegs. The frolicking!
108  @omgcheckplease:  Ransom: Do you think Tater and Jack will come back? Holster: Um. Holster: Sure, bud.
109  @omgcheckplease:  The Group Text Shitty: what the fucking heck is going on in Samwell, Massachusetts.
110  @omgcheckplease:   Lardo: i was so close shits
111  @omgcheckplease:  Whiskey: It's cool how Jack just drops by whenever. That's alumni relations! Tango: ....Huh...Isn't it because he's--OW.
112  @omgcheckplease:  Dex just smacked Tango in the back of the head. It could have been a dance move. It's a kegster, who knows.
113  @omgcheckplease:  Tango: ow.........OHh! He wasn't stealing the jam! Haha, wow, I'm glad.
114  @omgcheckplease:   Ohhh, *his friend and our captain!
115  @omgcheckplease:  New conditioning sched: afternoon practice and afternoon classes mean late night baking and bad habits.
116  @omgcheckplease:  There are times when I thrive rising early? (Esp. when it means trying out new things for breakfast.) But other times...well!
117  @omgcheckplease:  Despite my team being creatures of habit, we're also college students / love sleeping in. Not natural early birds (well, most of us)!
118  @omgcheckplease:  Not sure if y'all remember, but I used to Tweet about Shitty busting in on Jack quite a bit. Those were mornings! Classic #SamwellMensHockey
119  @omgcheckplease:  Big game for the Falconers tonight...#GoPVDFalconers!
120  @omgcheckplease:  Nervous for hockey. The Falc have been looking so strong this season. Let's go, boys! #GoPVDFalconers
121  @omgcheckplease:  Chowder: !!! Is that Shitty and Lardo on the jumbotron??? Chowder: Oh, it's not. Well, I still like those people!
122  @omgcheckplease:  Pie's in the kitchen, we're in the den, laptops and textbooks and pies and hockey. Good vibes from here to Providence. #SamwellMensHockey
123  @omgcheckplease:  (I have a reading response due in two hours that I should have done over spring break, but c'est la vie. (I remember French!))
124  @omgcheckplease:  During commercial breaks, I'm wondering how this TV has managed to survive so many kegsters, even if it's been carefully stowed away.
125  @omgcheckplease:   If you remember, Shitty had his door kicked in one year--nothing's safe. But THE GAME.
126  @omgcheckplease:  Ugh.
127  @omgcheckplease:  They had a good screen on Snowy; he didn't even see the puck.
128  @omgcheckplease:  By the way, watching anything with Holster means you're watching something with Holster. "These announcers are Schooner announcers, geez."
129  @omgcheckplease:  "I'm telling you, the do more close-ups on Jack than anyone else."
130  @omgcheckplease:  "Hey, Rans, it's Tater, the love of your life. For the record, I think Alexei Mashkov thinks my name is Randy and Ransom's name is Adam."
131  @omgcheckplease:  "Their power play is killer. OH, Shitty just texted everyone that they're DEFINITELY doing more close ups on Jack. How's that not creepy?!"
132  @omgcheckplease:  1-1 !!!!!!!!!
133  @omgcheckplease:  Me: POOTS!!!!! Dex: They don't actually call him that, right? Dex: At least Jack wouldn't-- Dex: I called a guy Shitty for an entire year.
134  @omgcheckplease:  Nursey: Kent Parson's been in like 3 commercials since we turned this on.
135  @omgcheckplease:   We're all confused by this. Uncanny on a number of levels.
136  @omgcheckplease:  Down. Come on, y'all.
137  @omgcheckplease:  When it comes to my peach pies, Ransom in part
138  @omgcheckplease:  YES
139  @omgcheckplease:  Never check on a pie during play because you'll miss your FRIEND SCORING!!!!!!!
140  @omgcheckplease:  I need to see that replay 20 more times, so someone better post that online in the next 60 seconds, thanks. #GoPVDFalconers
141  @omgcheckplease:  Half of Samwell men's hockey is in the den about to watch this last period of the #GoPVDFalconers game.
142  @omgcheckplease:  No shade to Seattle, but they HAVE to lose. (Even though I think #16 for the Schooners is getting a jar of vanilla bean plum from me?)
143  @omgcheckplease:  (I have no idea. A Falc owed one gentleman who was roommates w/ another player--I just gave it all to Jack and try not to think about it)
144  @omgcheckplease:  Schooners power play. Lord.
145  @omgcheckplease:  Come on. I swear this team does better when their backs are to the wall.
146  @omgcheckplease:  PLEASE
147  @omgcheckplease:  Lardo' s stress snapchats are calming in a time like this.
148  @omgcheckplease:  Lord. Another penalty to kill. #GoPVDFalconers
149  @omgcheckplease:  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!
150  @omgcheckplease:  TATER SHORT-HANDED AAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
151  @omgcheckplease:  Oh my god, I'm crying. They could make it. Oh Lord.
152  @omgcheckplease:  Watching is one hundred times more stressful than being on the ice.
153  @omgcheckplease:  Lord! It's easier to tweet and listen to these boys reactions, haha!
154  @omgcheckplease:  mY HEART.
155  @omgcheckplease:  Half a dozen teams are already guaranteed a spot in the NHL playoffs. The Falconers just joined them #GoPVDFalconers #PVDFalconers #GoFalcs!
156  @omgcheckplease:  = SMH Group Text = Rans: YEAAAAAAAAAAAH Chowder: Jack!!! Dex: CONGRATS, man! Holster: JACK!!! Shitty: WE'RE GETTING DRUNK IN PROVIDENCE
157  @omgcheckplease:  = SMH Group Text = Lardo: you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you did it you
158  @omgcheckplease:  He'll smile when he can finally check his phone. :)
159  @omgcheckplease:  The little blurb in The Daily on the Falcs!
160  @omgcheckplease:  Dear S.O., Wow! It seems as though one of my favorite vocalists/performers has released a clothing line--and my birthday is upcoming!
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pongpalace · 7 years
Text
too complicated for simple labels (but they sure do help)
So @ericfuckingbittle​ made these incredible aro!March icons and @abominableobriens​ mentioned something about aro!March in a qpp with Ransom while he’s still dating Holster in their tags and so I projected all my own grey-aro feelings onto March because I’m really not sure there can ever be enough fic about romantic identities and non-romantic relationships.
March has never understood the big deal about crushes.
She’s never had one if she’s being completely honest with herself, always staying quiet when her friends started talking about whose hand they accidentally brushed and if maybe that meant they should ask them to the school dance. There was that one memorable time in the summer before Samwell when March worked at an outdoor summer camp and got tired of staying quiet while her best friend wouldn’t shut up about how much she liked her new boyfriend, how great he was, how Annie still got butterflies when he held her hand, so March said she had a crush on one of the older counsellors. He looked much better when he kept his avatars on and his mouth shut, but his tattoos were pretty cool and with the long days she worked with him, she really didn’t have the time or energy to crush on anyone else and she wanted to try having a crush anyways.
March scraped the crush after the third time she found herself talking about his calves and his ass in the ugly basketball shorts he always wore when Annie and Félix asked her about her crush during one of their biweekly “we’re-overworking-ourselves-now-to-have-money-in-the-school-year-so-treat-yoself” nights. Annie kept talking about the flowers Greg had sent to her desk job, and Félix was going on and on about the eye contact he’d make with a new barista at his favourite coffee shop and March realizes that she never actually wants to talk to her “crush” beyond planning and organizing the activities so the next time it comes up she tells them that she’s gotten over him and that’s the end of March's crush.
♠ ♠ ♠
March goes to a Samwell Pride Society meeting with April at the beginning of the second semester of their frog year. April’s been a part of the Pride Society on campus since they started; she came to Samwell knowing she liked girls way more than she liked guys (“Anything is more than zero,” she’d say with a laugh when the topic of her sexuality came up) and was somehow able to balance being an active member of the club with their volleyball schedule. If she wasn’t at the team house or with March, it was usually a safe bet that April was in the Pride office, tucked away the corner of the Student Union building with the best view of the parking lot. April made sure everyone on the volleyball team knew that they always had an open invitation to go with her to the meetings every week, but because March’s Intro to Geography course in first semester was at the same time, it takes a semester to accept April’s invitation.
The Pride office is exactly what March pictured when she thought of a place for Pride: bowl of condoms and dental dams on the desk; a shelf on the bookshelf stuffed full of pamphlets on how to have safe sex with all genders; boxes of sex toys piled up under a sign that says BINGO PRIZES DO NOT TOUCH (Liam) ; and a giant rainbow flag pinned up on the wall.
“Guys, March; March, guys,” April says, waving a hand at the two guys on the couch before jumping up onto the desk to commandeer the mouse from the gorgeous dark haired girl at the computer.
“Uh, hi guys,” March says to the room at large, moving her arm in a half aborted wave and wishing that April was better at introductions. One of the guys on the couch waves back, cheeks dimpling and nose scrunched like he’s trying not to laugh at her. The other guy pinches him in the thigh and readjusts so they sit closer together, and March takes the invitation to go sit on the couch with them.
“I’m Mason,” the pincher says. He points over his shoulder to the guy whose lap he’s practically sitting in now. “This is Eli. That’s Isabella.” Mason almost knocks Eli in the teeth when he jerks his head back at the girl behind the desk. She looks up from the computer and offers March a warm smile. March finds herself staring as Isabella is drawn back in whatever April is doing on the computer. She shakes herself out of it when more people come into the office and Mason introduces them to March in between bemoaning the updated reading list his advisor has given him for his thesis.
Isabella starts the meeting when most horizontal surfaces have someone sitting on them by acknowledging the land they’re meeting on belongs to the Wampanoag people and thanking them and the Ones who came before them. Beyond that, March loses track of the meeting as they hash out housekeeping details for the upcoming fundraiser. Her eye gets caught on a poster with the same rainbow flag as the one on the wall at the top and a colourful assortment of other pride flags and their meaning underneath.
There’s apparently nothing else on the agenda other than the fundraising problem because as it gets solved, people start leaving. March stands when Mason and Eli stand, leaving with a fist bump and a salute, but April is still at the computer talking with someone so March continues to stare at the poster. She’s stuck trying to work out what aromantic means, when someone clears their throat. She jumps to see Isabella beside her.
“Oh sorry,” Isabella says, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear from where it’s escaped her braid. “I just wanted to ask if you enjoyed the meeting.” Her smile is even better up close.
“I did, yeah,” March replies. She didn’t hear a word past the greeting, but she thinks she’s learned most of the identities that make up the LGBTQA+ acronym and their accompanying flags, plus some extras that she didn’t even know existed.
“Kinda overwhelming, isn’t it?” Isabella asks. She jerks her chin towards the poster, having seemingly followed where March’s gaze found the green-white-grey-black flag of aromanticism again.
“There’s so many labels,” March says.
Isabella laughs softly. “They’re are good for people who want them. Especially when you’re usually marginalized by the mainstream, it’s nice to have something to claim as yours, y'know?”
March nods absently, not sure she can really relate. Her experience isn’t much to write home about, but she does know that she likes doing things with men and women. No one has ever made her feel bad about either so she never really thought to give herself a label. Bisexual probably fits if she needs one but doesn’t know enough to decisively choose.
“What’s 'aromantic' mean?” March asks suddenly, stuck on the different ending.
“Do you understand what asexuality is?” Isabella asks. March hesitates before she nods, Félix was pretty vague on the details when he told her about himself, so Isabella explains anyways.
“So simply put, asexuality is the absence of sexual attraction right? Aro is basically the same except it’s the absence of romantic attraction.”
“Romantic attraction?” March hasn’t ever heard the two words put together like that.
“Uh, the part of you that wants to like um, date someone. Crushes and stuff.” Isabella gives March a moment to consider that before speaking again. “So you gonna come back to another meeting?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Isabella’s responding smile is dazzling.
After her second Pride meeting, March goes back to the apartment Isabella shares with two other poli-sci majors. They’re almost caught bare-assed on the couch but Isabella was smart enough to lock the deadbolt when they came in so March is able to grab their clothes and run as directed to the Isabella’s room (down the hall, second door on the right) while Isabella wraps herself in a throw blanket to let in her disgruntled roommate. The next time March goes to Isabella’s apartment, the same roommate, March now knows her name is Zoey, pointedly turns up her music when she sees March at the door. Isabella says she likes the feel of March’s blush under her tongue when they’re behind closed doors which only causes the blush to go further; a win for both of them really.
♠ ♠ ♠
April catches March on her way over Isabella’s after practice three months after March’s first Pride meeting.
“Off to Isabella’s?” April asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. The effect is ruined by the bruise she’s got across her cheekbone from a spike from the game before last. They won the set off the block so she wears the bruise proudly.
“Don’t wait up,” March replies, wrapping her wet hair into a bun so it’ll stay out of her face.
“Oh damn, it’s getting serious then?” April says.
“No?” March pauses in shrugging on her track jacket.
“Have you DTR?”
“What?”
“Defined the relationship.”
“Why?” March wrinkles her nose. She isn’t sure what to the make of the look April sends her.
“Aren’t you guys like, together?”
“We’re just friends,” March replies slowly, stupidly feeling like it’s the wrong answer even though she knows it isn’t. Her and Isabella aren’t so cliche that they don’t talk when they have sex, or before or after, but the topic of relationships or romance hasn’t ever come up since Isabell’s explanation of aromanticism.
“Oh.” April’s silence feels loaded, but March waits her out with furrowed brows. “You might want to make sure you’re on the same page,” April finally says. March’s frown deepens but she nods and slips her feet into her shoes and leaves the changeroom. She frowns for the entire walk to Isabella’s.
Zoey opens the door when March knocks.
“She’s in her room,” she sighs, rolling her eyes but stepping back to let March in. She goes back to the kitchen table and makes eye contact with March while she puts her headphones back. March can just barely hear a heavy bass coming from them that gets louder as March crosses the kitchen to the hall. She knocks softly on the doorframe, letting herself in when Isabella calls, “come in!”
Isabella, sitting on her bed and dressed only in a sports bra and pajama shorts, smiles when she sees March. “Hey babe, whatsup?”
The epithet makes March’s stomach clench unpleasantly even though Isabella’s called her that before. April also called her babe, but she calls everyone babe and now that March thinks about it, she’s never heard Isabella call anyone else babe.
“Can we talk?” March says instead of hello. She winces at the rudeness and quickly backtracks. “I mean, hey, I’m good. Can we talk?”
Isabella’s smile dims slightly and she stretches to grab the hoodie hangie beside her bed. “Sure.” She pulls it on and doesn’t make room on the bed for March to sit but that’s okay; she wouldn’t sit anyways.
March takes a deep breath. “Are we dating?”
Isabella’s smile is completely gone. “I’m gonna say no now, but know my answer’s changed in the last 2 minutes,” she says carefully.
“I’m aromantic.” March hasn’t said the words out loud before, but the more she thought about it after learning the word, the more the label settled in her bones. Saying it out loud lifts something from her shoulders and she can breathe deeper. March understood now what Isabella had originally meant by the labels being good for people; she just forgot that other people might find knowing your labels is helpful.
Isabella’s expression softens. “Oh.”
“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” March says. “I just uh, kinda thought it was the same for you?” Retrospectively she realizes how naive that is. She forces herself to look up from floor that she made the confession to and sees hurt flash across Isabella’s face. “It wasn’t just sex!” March blurts, stupidly realizing too late how that might’ve sounded. “I really do care about you. I just don’t have uh, feelings for you. And I don’t think I ever will.”
“I know what aromanticism is,” Isabella says softly. She’s looking down at the bed, idly picking at a loose thread.
“I’m sorry,” March says again.
“S’not your fault,” Isabella replies. “Not really.” She quiet for a beat. March watches her jaw work before she finds the words she needs. “I really care about you too. But... we can’t keep doing this.” She motions between them.
March nods. “I’m really sorry.” It comes out as a little more than a whisper. She meant what she said about really caring for Isabella and will really miss her as a friend.
She listened and laughed loudly at March’s jokes even when March laughed through the punchline. They had different enough movie tastes that netflixing and chilling sometimes turned out to just be netflixing and honestly, March will miss having someone to hang out with outside of her teammates.
Isabella must hear something in March’s voice because she gets up off the bed and pulls March down for a hug. “We’ll still be friends,” she says into March’s collarbone. “I just need some time to get over this.”
“‘Kay,” March says, mostly into Isabella’s bun. Isabella runs a hand up March’s spine once, twice, three times, before giving March a final squeeze and stepping back, well out of March’s space.
“I’ll see you around,” she says, smiling for the first time since it was wiped off.
“Not if I see you first.” It’s cheesy but it makes Isabella’s smile turn more sincere when March says it. She manages a real smile back too.
She leaves Isabella’s room, ignoring the questioning look from Zoey and letting herself out of the apartment. The walk back to her dorm is darker than normal, even though it’s not nearly as late it usually is when she makes the walk. She knows that she did the right thing but she’s still sad about having to do it.
If this what not getting crushes feels like, she can’t imagine actual romantic feelings being much fun.
♠ ♠ ♠
March meets Justin at a Student Athlete Leadership Seminar at the beginning of sophomore year. His name tag says Justin but he introduces himself as Ransom when they’re partnered together for the trust obstacle course. March eyes him skeptically at the discrepancy but he easily leads her around the course when it’s her turn to be blindfolded even after she accidentally makes him stub his toe. He’s really good at all of the other teamwork exercises disguised as games too. The woman running the morning session makes sure to compliment their teamwork, and March can admit the high five they exchange is pretty epic.
They sit together during lunch where March learns that “Ransom” is his hockey nickname because, “Bro, Ransom just rolls nicely off the tongue, y’know?” He spends the rest of the break trying to come up with a nickname for her and is weirdly frustrated when nothing sticks.
“What’s your last name?”
“Kobierzyńska.”
“Bless you.”
“That’s rude.”
“Right, sorry.” Justin sounds surprisingly sincere. “I can’t make a nickname outta something I can’t pronounce.” He taps at his bottom lip. “You’ll get one though, don’t worry,” he promises as they take their seats back in the auditorium for the lecture portion of the seminar.
“I’m really not that worried,” March tells him. The wounded noise he makes causes several people to whip around in their seats to shush him, causing March to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle her laughter.
The lecture actually starts, and Justin is focused, though he mumbles to himself when the lecturer makes points he doesn’t agree with. March is inclined to second Justin's mumbles; the frat boy wannabe 40-year-old giving the lecture seems to have a lot of opinions about women’s sports in college for someone whose career never brought him close to actual women athletes.
“Well that was a waste of an afternoon,” Justin says when they’re allowed to leave.
“It was a full day thing,” March points out, squinting into the setting sun as they leave the building. They walk in the same direction without talking about it.
“Yeah, but the morning was okay. We kicked ass at the games!”
“They weren’t games. And it wasn’t a competition.”
Justin scoffs. “They were. Games rolled up as ‘trust exercises’-” he actually makes the quotation marks, two at the beginning with his left hand and two at the end with his right. “-are still games no matter how they’re packaged to make it seem like we were learning something.”
“Well I don’t know about you, but I learned a lot in the afternoon,” March sniffs, unable to keep a straight face for long.
“Fuck off.” Justin's grinning when he shoves March’s shoulder. She laughs brightly as she bounces off and then on the sidewalk.
They get dinner together at the dining hall, and Justin continues his pursuit of a nickname for March.
“Greater men than you have tried,” March tells him. “I’m unnicknameable.”
“Unnicknameable March?” Justin tries.
“‘S an oxymoron.”
“That’s what makes it funny.”
“No.”
When Justin has to run off to a late practice, he asks for her number just in case he thinks of anymore nicknames. March laughs at the excuse but happily gives him her number. Almost immediately Justin starts their message thread when he texts her about the unfairness of preseason practice with a captain who doesn’t believe in excuses. March has little sympathy for him, Becka has started the year with her sights set on a winning title and hasn't relented yet but comparing captain stories between sports is fun.
Volleyball season is in full swing so March doesn’t get to as many Pride meetings as she did last year. When she make it to events though, Isabella always has a smile for her, though it’s not quite the same smile as before. March will take it though; she missed her over the summer but understood there were boundaries she needed to respect.
April becomes the second person to know March that is aromantic during a tournament roadie and neither can sleep. March speaks into the darkness of their hotel room and April is quiet for so long that March starts to think their shared nervous silence hasn't actually been all that shared after all. April eventually replies and is exactly as supportive a best friend needs to be, though it takes a couple tries for her to completely understand the term.
“But you’ve had sex.”
“Yeah.”
“With Isabella.”
“Yeah. And other people.”
“And did you like her?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same thing.”
“...start from the beginning again.”
“Okay, like, I liked--like Isabella. I like talking with her, and watching movies with her, and kissing and having sex but none of the feelings I have for her are romantic.”
“But that’s what Kara and I do and we’re very romantic.”
“Yeah but none of that is exclusively romantic.”
“Ohhhhhhhh."
The win the tournament that weekend.
♠ ♠ ♠
Through their excessive texting and snapping once they find each other on all social medias, March and Justin discover that they’re taking the same anatomy class, though in different sections. Weekly study dates become a thing that turn into twice weekly and then three times weekly right before midterms. Midterms finish and November hits and the hockey season is in full swing, completely overlapping the volleyball season and there’s a weird week or so where Snapchat is the only way they see each. After they have a weekend long sleepover to catch up, it’s volleyball finals and Justin brings half the hockey team to cheer when Samwell ends the season in first place. Then it’s Christmas and the new semester and Justin and March sit next to each other in the second half of their anatomy class. Their matching notebooks were gag Christmas gifts from Holster that they unironically use with the fancy pens they gifted each other.
Anatomy gets cancelled in the first week of February and because of their other class workloads, March doesn’t see Justin in person for a couple days. April tells March that she’ll never miss Justin because when he’s not there, March doesn’t shut up about him.
“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” Nora says from across the cool down circle as March is telling April and Becka about the plans she had with Justin, froyo, and a movie that night.
March frowns at the word crush, her stomach swooping down.
“Not everything has to be about romance,” April tells Nora.
“Thanks A,” March mumbles, wondering if she’s been wrong in assuming a crush had nothing to do with her and Justin’s relationship.
Justin is hands down one of her best friends. They’re in contact constantly and he’s one of the first people March wants to talk to when she gets any sort of news. He knows her order at Annie’s and Denny’s--and she makes a lot of substitutions to the grand slam breakfast. He comes to her dorm if they both need a break from their respective teammates, to watch episodes of How It’s Made with her. They alternate who gets to be the little spoon depending on who has more deadlines that week.
March values her friendships with Félix and Annie and April and most of the volleyball team but she’s pretty sure none of them get her on a level like Justin is able to- he picks around the sun chips when they share a bag of Munchies just because he knows those are her favourite, while simultaneously handing her the orange skittles because he hates them and she doesn’t. And March has met the guys on the hockey team and no offence but they either have no emotions or too many emotions. She thinks Justin finds some relief from both extremes when they hang out together, but now she's wondering if maybe there's been another reason they spend as much time as they can together.
“I gotta go,” March says, getting up out of the butterfly stretch she’d been thinking in. April has wide eyes and kicks at Becka when she tries to stop March.
In the change room, March barely stops to pull sweats over her spandex. She doesn’t zip up her jacket over her crewneck sweater until she’s hit by a blast of February wind and even then she tries to do it up while she walks but just ends up fighting with the zipper for the entire walk to the Haus. She knocks on the door as she’s opening in, waving to Bitty and Jack in the kitchen, saluting Holster and Shitty on the green couch before taking the stairs to the attic two at a time, almost 90% sure that’s where Justin will be based on her familiarity of his schedule. He jumps at his desk when she practically kicks open the door.
“Jesus H. Christ you scared me,” he says, leaning the chair back on two legs like he does when he's ready to take a break from his books but hasn't let himself yet. “I thought I was supposed to come to yours?” His smile is confused but he doesn't look made about the interruption.
March crosses the room and knocks the chair back to four legs with a foot on the rung before she speaks. “Are we dating?” she asks. A wave of deja vu hits her, but Justin’s cheeks colour differently than Isabella’s did.
“Uh, no.” Justin draws the last syllable out while looking guiltily over at the bunk beds him and Holster share.
All the muddled up feelings that powered March’s walk in the cold over disappear and she can breath again knowing that she hasn’t accidentally hurt a friendship by not having romantic feelings again. She’s left with such a sense of relief that it drains her and it’s suddenly an effort to stay standing so she sinks onto the floor.
“Oh thank god.” She leans her head back against the desk, ignoring how uncomfortably her pony tail pushes into her head. The chair scrapes back as Justin joins her on the floor, but he sits, facing March. He grabs March’s ankle and rubs his thumb along the skin between her sock and sweat cuff.
“Um?”
“I’m aromantic,” March says and oh, it rolls off the tongue nicely the third time around too. “It’s like asexual except I can be sexually attracted to someone but I don’t understand or have romantic attraction.”
“Okay?” Justin’s thumb stills for a beat before continuing.
“I was talking about our froyo date night at practice-”
“Because it’s awesome.”
“-and Nora said I had a crush on you. And I don’t.” March makes a face, kicking half-heartedly when Justin clutches his chest like she actually offended him. “I mean I would if I could probably. I just... don’t. I love you but I don’t want to date you.”
Justin’s quiet as he processes. His thumb starts up again. “Same. I mean, I love you too but I don’t want to date you either,” he finally says. He inhales. “I’m dating Holster.” Justin blows the breath out of his nose.
March blinks, “Oh, wow. Uh, congrats.” The news manages to be surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Holster and Justin work just as well together as Justin and March.
“Thanks,” Justin blushes. He has a really dopey smile on his face. “It’s like really new- I was gonna tell you tonight actually, but…" He shrugs, trailing off. "I’m really happy.” The admission comes with a small smile that makes March's heart happy.
“I’m glad.” March surges forward and wraps her arms around Justin’s neck. His hugs are probably her favourite bar-none. “Does that mean froyo date nights have to stop?” She’s only half joking.
“Oh no,” Justin is quick to reassure. March can feel him playing with her pony tail. “Holzy knows you’re my other best friend. He’ll just probably want to come cuddle more.”
“Only if I’m the middle spoon.”
Her pony tail tickles her neck when Justin sighs into it it. “Only every second cuddle sesh.” He squeezes her once more before pulling back. March grabs his face when he makes to get up off the floor though, keeping him in place.
“Thank you,” she says seriously.
“Welcome,” he replies. He kisses her forehead before getting up and that’s not something he’s ever done before, but neither of them have ever said "I love you" to the other either.
“Froyo?” Justin holds out a hand. March lets him pull her up and she zips up her jacket properly while he struggles into his. They race down the stairs, almost taking out Jack in the process. Justin shouts a sorry, bro-ing up what little Canadian accent he has from Toronto, and fist bumps Holster on his way out. Holster offers his fist to March too. She bumps, and even does the explosion that the end just to make Justin laugh. Holster insists they try a three way first bump so it’s another 10 minutes before March and Justin are out in the cold, on their way for froyo.
Crushes to March are an abstract concept, kinda like the concept of doing her dishes right after she dirties them. She doesn’t understand crushes or romantic feelings and it’s sitting across from Justin, who’s got a red ring around his mouth from trying to lick the bottom of his container but gamely offered March a bite of his pineapple froyo when he thought she’d like it, that she really feels okay with that.
She doesn’t need a romantic partner when she’s got the friends she does.
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whatwouldfrogsdo · 7 years
Text
Pop Tarts in Bed
Day 3 of @charmerweek - Hurt/Comfort. This type of fic isn’t really my typical style so it’s just a baby fic. Trigger warnings for grief/parental loss.
Also on AO3 here.
It was 5am when she woke, and Caitlin slipped downstairs as quietly as she could, so as not to wake the rest of the volleyball team living in the Dig. She took one of the spare balls from down the side of the couch, and headed to the beach. It might not be a real beach - she had given up on those the moment she got her acceptance letter from Samwell - but it was nice to pretend that she hadn’t traded in for indoor courts. Today, she kind of wished she could pretend she had never given up softball, or that she was any good at ice skating. Instead, she walked, dribbling the volleyball as if it were a basketball, to the beach.
She practiced until sunrise, serving the ball time and time again, pushing herself until she had worn a patch of grass down to dirt which her shoes slipped on with every jump. Then she hit it into the bushes and tripped on a branch trying to retrieve it, and at some point she had started crying to match the blood trickling down her knee and the mud-covered scrapes along her arms. She abandoned the ball as lost, and pushed her way out of the thicket. The journey back to frat row happened around her. She almost stepped in front of a car, but noticed it just in time, and an early-morning jogger shot her a concerned look. Caitlin shrugged both incidences off.
It was the Haus that she went to, rather than the Dig. The door was open, just as she had told the boys off for three times already in the month Chris had been living there. Nobody was up yet, so she kicked her shoes off by the door and went straight up to Chris’s room. Only when she was standing by his bed, looking down at him sleeping, mouth open and arms wrapped around his pillow, did she realize how muddy she was. She let out a shaky breath, which was apparently louder than she would have guessed, because Chris stirred. He blinked at her a couple of times, and his lips moved, but she didn’t bother to try and understand them. A moment later, he was stood in front of her, his fingers running carefully across her cheek, and then his hand coming up to rest on her ear. He tugged on her wrist and pulled her through to the bathroom. Slowly, he helped her peel off her clothes, and then his own, and they stepped into the shower together, her shaking against his body under the sudden warmth of the water. She borrowed a jersey and they curled up in bed together.
It was 9am when she woke for the second time. Chris winced apologetically as he closed the door, and then remembered that it couldn’t have been the noise which woke her, and his expression turned to one of concern. Caitlin shook her head, and sat up so that she could take the tray he carried off him. There were two cups of coffee, and a plate piled high with warm pop tarts.
“Are you okay?” Chris signed. He hadn’t picked it up terribly well, but he knew the basics at least.
Caitlin nodded in response, accompanied with the sign for yes. “I woke up early again.”
Chris covered his own ear, silently asking if she was in pain.
“No. Not any more. I think it was just habit, and I didn’t want to just lie there. I’d get thinking.” He frowned, and moved the tray, with his coffee, to the desk so that he could sit down. Caitlin nibbled round the edge of a strawberry pop tart as she gathered her thoughts. “My momma died this time of year. September’s difficult.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You didn’t—”
Chris’s hand against her cheek made her stop, and she leant into him as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He picked the half-empty coffee mug out of her hand, and took the plate of pop tarts off her knee. When he finally settled back down, he wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her down to lie on his chest. The rhythm of his hands on her back, the knowledge that she was safe here with him, and the prospect of the day being one where they didn’t have to get up, thanks to it still being pre-season, lulled her back to sleep before she had even finished her pop tart.
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things i wish i could tell you
word count: 6k pairing: nursey/dex rating: T
AO3
Nursey is a born poet.
i love these roads where the houses don’t change (and i like you)
“Derek, your poem is beautiful! I think you might be a gifted writer.”
Derek thought about this. He really hadn’t thought about his life at all, he had just been waiting for the next weekend, the next break, the next summer vacation for the last two years of his life, letting the days pour through his fingers without paying any attention to where they were going, allowing his life to fog up the water he was standing in. But the way his teacher said it, with such conviction that Derek Nurse was a writer, made him think.
And Derek thought a lot, really, it was almost all he did. So he thought about writing through his whole practice after school, and he messed up a couple of drills because he was focused in on the way the ice flew up under his skates, and how to put that into words.
He went home and wrote.
The first poem he wrote of his own free will was about a girl who sat next to him in chemistry, who brushed her long brown hair behind her ear even when it wasn’t falling in front of her eyes. i want to get to know you, whispered the harsh light of the document. In freshman year, he opened the door.
Derek Nurse wanted to know people.
He saved poetry for the spare moments when his emotions became too much, when he got overwhelmed and felt he would drown anyone he tried to talk to. He kept them filed away in a neat little document, and he would scroll all the way to the bottom and write through the blur of tears late at night. In junior year someone somewhere on some long-abandoned forum post said to write happy poems, so he did.
The next year was senior year and he kept writing happy poetry, sometimes about the way the moon cast its beam over the water when he was on vacation by the sea, or sometimes about the stories embedded within the chipping outer walls of his apartment that he could see if he leaned out his bedroom window far enough to make his mother nervous. But mostly he wrote about people.
He wrote about the people he saw walking around the boardwalk in the summertime, about the girl with the soft pink hair and freckles covering her skin, about the boy with the dog on his bike he caught a glimpse of through the window of his car. He wrote about the ice cream vendor who sat in the ice cream stall every day from 7 in the morning to 9 at night. He would make up stories about their lives, where they had come from, where they were going. Derek loved people.
And in senior year he loved a boy he had never known before. It was the kind of crush where you look at the person and they’re different than they were, like someone adjusted the lighting on their face and suddenly there was a new person. He was tall, and people liked him, and Derek liked him, and Derek kissed him late at night in the dimming lights the dance coordinators had hung up in the gym when they were taking down decorations from the Halloween dance, running his fingers through his bleached hair, and the boy kissed him back. They made it until the spring when the captain of the varsity basketball team caught them and the boy’s parents made them end it, and Derek went home and cursed and cried and wrote. They didn’t dare make eye contact in school, and everything ended as abruptly as it started.
He sent the poem titled “october 31st” to every college he applied to.
He knew it wouldn’t be tough to get into any colleges—he was from Andover, and his GPA was strong, but he still felt a rush of nerves hit him when he stepped onto Samwell’s campus with the other high school seniors. He had made friends with a kid named Chris almost immediately, and they stuck with each other during the tour, which made him feel a little better.
As soon as he stepped into the rink he felt at home.
Hockey was like his second poetry, but instead of channeling his emotions into a document full of sad words and happy words, he used it to forget about all of his emotions for a while, to just feel the almost-cold of the rink and hear the scraping of blades against ice. He talked to Shitty for a while about the team and life at Samwell, and the excited freshman who was handing out goodie bags.
“I thought since Jack Zimmerman played here, guys would be…less good at baking, if you know what I mean.”
Nursey felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was about to turn around and tell the guy that if he wasn’t comfortable with that stuff then maybe he shouldn’t have come to a school that was so LGBT-friendly, but then the freshman started leading them to the pottery studio and Nursey was left with a stolen glimpse of him.
The fire of Will Poindexter haunted him all summer.
When he arrived at the Haus the first day he wasn’t Derek, he was Nursey, and he thought it fitting that he got a fresh start. He glanced at the other frogs and saw Chris—well; he was Chowder now—and Dex.
Dex stood there in a flannel with his brows permanently furrowed, and he had callouses on his hands and freckles all over his pale skin. He stared at the old, beat-down Haus with a sense of purpose. When he looked in Nursey’s direction, his eyes shone bright orange in the midday sun.
And Nursey started to write.
someone told you that you’re cold so you walk on hot coals to keep yourself warm
Dex was intimidating, almost. If he was able to keep a level head, he could have been a warrior, gazing out over the cold rink with a hardened stare. Nursey could see the wind messing his short orange hair, brushing past the ever-present plaid around him as he looked over the battlefield. In one of the spare moments when he wasn’t fighting with him, or Ransom and Holster weren’t chirping him, or Bitty wasn’t trying to teach him how to bake, Nursey could see the smoother side of Dex. He could see a fighter.
And then the buzzer would blare and the door would open and a crowd of loud college hockey bros would skate out onto the ice, and the moment would leave. Nursey sat on the bench and watched the older D-Men work in perfect sync, and looked at Dex and thought. God, his ears are fucking huge, said his brain, acting like it wasn’t a little bit in awe of Dex.
“I don’t understand why you two can’t get along,” Chowder sighed on Tuesday at breakfast. Nursey focused on spreading butter on his toast. “Nursey? Hello?”
“He’s against pretty much everything I’m for, if you can’t tell.”
Chowder sighed, and Nursey looked up at him. His face was curled in frustration and confusion like he was purposefully left out of an inside joke everyone else was in on. Nursey admired Chowder in a lot of ways. The constant stream of upbeat positivity carried the team sometimes, and Nursey was grateful for that. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder how Chowder had made it through life up to this point and still retain the cheerful naïvety he carried.
“Dex and I are just different fundamentally,” He says quietly. Words hurt to come out sometimes. “He’s allowed to be angry. He’s allowed to yell.”
Chowder’s face softens a bit, and he mumbles the next words through a knowing smile. “I bet he’s allowed to be stupid, too.”
Nursey actually laughs out loud at that one, causing some people from neighboring tables to stare at them. “Shut up, you’re so smart, man!”
“Stop stereotyping me,” Chowder grins from over the table. “And can you pass the napkins?”
why don’t you try to chill for once, feel everything build up in your chest and you can’t let it out make a timebomb out of yourself and feel the emotions choke you as they’re crawling up your throat
Nursey wakes up on the green couch and the Haus is dark and he’s in that groggy state you get after a nap you shouldn’t have taken. He looks over at the cable box, which tells him it’s 1:34 in the morning in bright green. He soon hears the voices that assumedly woke him, and tries to listen.
“I just don’t understand why—” He hears a noise halfway between a grunt and a scream, and something like a fist pounding against a wall. Dex is yelling for some reason; Nursey can tell.
“I know, I know.” Bitty repeats the words like a hushed mantra as Dex continues to yell. Eventually, he stops, and all that Nursey can hear are labored breaths. The next time Dex speaks, it’s wet and scratchy.
“I hate being there.”
“I know.”
“It’s just—I have to hear it every day, and I love my family, but the things they say are—” Dex’s voice breaks again, and he takes a shaky breath. “I wish I could just stay here.”
“I know.”
There is shifting, and Nursey sees two approaching shadows on the floor, and he snaps his eyes shut.
“Oh, Nursey fell asleep on the couch again.” Bitty says like he’s a suburban mother of four and not a college sophomore on the hockey team. He hears them pass through the entryway to the living room, and Bitty speaks up again. “You know, you don’t have to tell them anything. Just lay low and excuse yourself if the topic comes up.”
Dex sniffs. “Thanks.”
“Do you want me to walk you home?”
“I’ll be okay. See you tomorrow,” The front door opens and he feels cold air rush in, freezing a part of the air, and then it shuts. Bitty sighs and turns out the lights in the kitchen and the hallway, and Nursey hears him pad up the stairs.
He pulls out his phone and opens the document.
i’m sorry if you need help i know heimlich
Something happens over winter break where Dex starts texting him and he texts back and they’re friends, kind of. Nursey asks how things are with his family and Dex says Not that great and Nursey gets to hear about his very conservative family up north, and they don’t ever call or talk face to face, but Nursey tucks his head into his shoulder and smiles every time he gets a text from him.
The team meets by the pond back at Samwell, and the two of them make eye contact and share an imperceptible smile, and if Nursey’s life were West Side Story everything around them would’ve gone quiet and blurry and it would have just been them for a little bit, but Nursey’s life is a chaotic mess, so he gets a slap on the back from Holster and Dex is tackled by Chowder.
After everyone has reconnected, Nursey skates over to Dex and tucks his beanie down on his head.
“Miss me, Poindexter?”
“No.”
“You’re always free to Skype me.”
Dex scoffs and skates away, but not before Nursey catches the look of fondness on his face, and he figures it’s better to live.
i missed you. is that weird?
He steps back just in time to avoid getting hit in the face by something and sees Dex throw his helmet as hard as he can on the locker room floor. He’s shaking—oh, God, Dex is trying desperately to hold back tears as they enter the locker room, and he’s standing just in front of Nursey as they pass through the doors. His head is turned down in defeat, eyes screwed shut, and Nursey can do nothing but watch as he shakes harder, calms himself, and then sighs.
Nursey was never one for publicly showing emotions. That was what poetry was for, though: tucking all the sad things away in a box and shutting it until it was time to open it again. He was as upset as everyone else about the loss, but it was inside, locked up and being saved for later.
He can’t pull his gaze away from the helmet sitting on the floor.
He isn’t really thinking when he reaches out and puts a hand on Dex’s shoulder, when he slides it down so it rests gently on his upper back. He’s too afraid to push further, so he lets him go as they walk to their respective cubbies. Everyone changes in relative silence, and Nursey watches Dex shiver as he puts on his clothes. He doesn’t know what to do as he walks out to the bus next to him later, dusk slowly blanketing the outside parking lot, turning it a dusky grey-purple. They’re the first people to come out of the building, and the low hum of traffic buzzes around them as they walk across the sea to the bus. Dex starts to shake again halfway there, his right hand goes white-knuckled on the strap of his bag, and Nursey stops short and puts a hand on his shoulder again.
“Dex?” He watches another wave hit him. Slowly, he slides a hand across his back so his arm is over his shoulders. “I’m right here, okay? It’s okay.”
“It’s not—” Dex’s voice is rough and squeaky with bottled-up tears, and he clamps his mouth shut as soon as he hears it. Nursey eases his bag off his shoulder, pulls Dex’s hand off of his, and turns him gently so they’re facing each other.
Nursey learned how to keep his voice smooth and low for situations like these. He drops the tone of his words so he can feel them vibrate in his throat. “No one is individually at fault, and—”
“I know that! I’m just—upset, I’m sorry,” the tears are starting to slip from his eyes, “I’ve been such an asshole, I—”
Nursey has never seen Dex break before. He’s seen him snap at him and go red in the face, but he’s never considered this. Someone told him once that all negative emotions stem from sadness, blooming outwards through nerves until you’re yelling or screaming or crying. He looks at Dex and someone shines a light from a different angle.
“Dex, no, no, no, man. It’s not—” Someone closes the dam in his throat. He can’t say anything else but “Shit, man, are you okay?”
Dex looks like a puppet whose strings are being slowly lowered, his body buckling in on itself. He guides him down until they’re both sitting on the pavement, and Dex is still shaking, and at this point Nursey simply doesn’t know what to do. So he kneels there in the parking lot with him as he shudders. “I’m sorry. I bottled everything up,”
“I get it. It’s okay.”
“Thanks for staying here.”
Nursey has always been afraid of the notion of the word “lifetime,” of the suffocating weight of the knowledge that he will grow old and die like everyone else. When he was fifteen years old, he read an anthology of poems and spent hours staring at the dates, imagining the poet’s lives before they died. 1785. 1862. 1930. Were they happy? He didn’t sleep well for three days.
And if he got run over by a car in this parking lot because he and Dex are two dumbass college students who are sitting down in the middle of the road between the parking spaces, he would be pretty pissed and would probably haunt Row B for all eternity. But if everything melted away and it was just him sitting, talking, growing old with the boy in front of him, floating endlessly cross-legged on a concrete sea, he might be okay.
Dex shifts so he can rest his head on Nursey’s shoulder. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He sounds tired. “Sorry again.”
“It’s okay,” Nursey says.
Dex sits next to him on the bus ride home, as always. They sit shoulder to shoulder, knees bumping against each other as the bus moves along. Dex falls asleep with Nursey’s hand in his, but he doesn’t say anything.
silence between one is lonely silence between two is love
“I can’t believe we’re cheating on Jerry.”
Nursey has an old convertible that was a hand-me-down from his parents when he turned 16, and he keeps it in a garage near his dorms on the rare occasion he needs to drive somewhere. Dex doesn’t have a car, but he has intense opinions on diner food and at what time of the day it is to be consumed, which is why Nursey is getting into his car at 11:30 p.m. on a Sunday because Dex texted him an hour ago and said they were going to a diner.
He starts the car up and looks over at Dex one more time, eyebrows raised, and Dex rolls his eyes at him.
“Just trust me on this one. It’s good,” and he leaves it at that to stare out the window as they pull out of the garage. Nursey drives fast under the yellow street lights that hang over the highway like angels leading him down an empty path to God knows where.
“Any reason we’re doing this so late?” He paints the words with a shade of pink, and they curl out of his mouth like smoke. Perfect. Always flirt a little bit, Derek, you never know where it can get you.
“It’s a twenty-four-hour diner,” Is the response he gets. Fair enough. “Can we have some music?”
“Your pick,” Nursey gestures to his phone in the cupholder. “Password is 5683.”
Dex looks at him with bewilderment, and he laughs. Nursey has never acted protective of the stuff in his phone. The more relaxed you seem, the less it looks like you have to hide. “Of course you have Spotify Premium,” Dex scoffs. Nursey shrugs and the beginning of a familiar song fills the car. “Lorde?” He likes 400 Lux as much as the next unapologetic hipster, but he doesn’t expect it to be Dex’s choice.
“I picked your most recent playlist, relax.”
Nursey just smiles and leans into the music, watching the highway peel open in front of him as he follows the directions Dex feeds him.
When they get to the diner it’s 12:30 a.m. and Dex has heard “more indie synth bullshit than I ever wanted or needed to”. Nursey chuckles and stands by the chrome stairs with his hands in his pockets, watches Dex ungracefully climb out of the passenger seat and fix his flannel. “Mamie’s 24/7” hums above him in neon blue. “Let me do the talking,” Dex says as he walks past, like they’re going in on some illegal back alley shit and not an entirely sober post-meridiem diner trip. Nursey follows him inside.
There are a few small groups of people sitting in the faded booths. The woman behind the counter smiles at them, and crow’s feet bloom from the corners of her eyes. “Can I seat you two?”
“No, thank you,” Dex says, “We’re ordering to go.” Nursey stays quiet as instructed and reads the specials printed on colorful laminated paper hanging over the counter. He waits as Dex talks to the woman behind the counter, and he hands over a few bills before she shuffles over to the pie case.
Dex comes back with two pies in a bag and pokes Nursey in the shoulder with his free hand. He looks up and gasps. “Cheating on Bitty, too? Scandalous.”
“Shut up,” Dex mutters as he leads him out of the diner. They drive up to the top of the hill and Dex directs him down a poorly-maintained dirt road to a clearing. “We’re gonna get murdered.” Nursey says.
“I hope they get you first.” Dex replies.
The two of them sit on the hood of Nursey’s car and look at the stars, stabbing the plastic forks into the pies absentmindedly. For a while silence is okay, and Nursey tries to find constellations like his mom taught him. He can only ever find Orion, but that’s usually enough to impress people. Eventually the silence is too empty, so he breaks it.
“Why are we up here at one in the morning?”
Dex looks at the sky. Nursey sees the warrior again, now looking desperately to the heavens for answers. “My sister went to college up here and every time I visited her we went to this diner and got pies,” he says with some melancholy. Melancholy has always been Nursey’s favorite word. Maybe because of the way it rolls over his tongue like a hard candy. But he knows how it is to feel melancholy, and he doesn’t want Dex to feel that. “She moved across the country when she graduated last spring.”
“Oh, huh,” Nursey says eloquently. “Why’d you bring me up here?”
Dex shrugs too quickly. “Year’s almost over. I needed a break,” he laughs, in a kind of forced way. “It’s kind of a weird coping mechanism.”
Nursey thinks about this. He thinks about a boy with bleached hair and a wild streak as wide as his smile and he thinks about the spring break where he learned to live for the third time and he thinks about Dex, again. “Did you see any cops on the way here?”
Dex’s brows furrow as he thinks. “No. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Why?”
Nursey stuffs the rest of his pie in his mouth and slides off the hood of his car. “I’m black, dude.”
They push seventy, eighty, ninety as the lights from far away neighborhoods turn into ribbons in the dark. The engine of his car fights with him as it’s pushed to the very limit, and Dex reaches his arms above his head, fingers straining to brush the stars, and howls. Nursey smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. They ride like that until they reach their exit, and for the fourth time in his life Nursey recalls what it feels like to be alive, endlessly and openly, and he feels the moments wash over him, feels them brushing by his skin, ticking by second by second. Dex laughs and it’s loud and wild and he’s here, right now, he is Derek Malik “Nursey” Nurse.
And he’s okay.
press your lips to my neck and feel my pulse racing like a marathon runner a new being reincarnated again i want to live
He finds Dex in the basement, working on the dryer.
“Trying to get dibs, I see.”
Dex scoffs. “Actually, I just like having clean clothes.”
They had talked every so often over the summer, maybe once or twice a week. Dex told him about life on the lobster boat, how spotty the service was, how the openness of the ocean reminded him that there was more than catching seafood in his future. Nursey said maybe he should’ve been a poet too, and Dex had laughed and told him to shut up, and Nursey smiled. He finally convinced Dex to Skype him one day after he got home, and Dex was sunburned to all hell when he picked up, and Nursey laughed and called him a cooked lobster, and Dex hung up on him, but he called him back two minutes later.
“I see right through you, Poindexter,” Nursey says , but Dex is lost in the chrome interior of the dryer, spinning it slowly and stopping it. Eventually, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and moves to sit on the dryer, and Nursey watches him pull his shirt up and wipe the sweat off his face. He feels awkward standing there with no reply. “What–what’s wrong with it?”
He really couldn’t care less, but Dex is here and he likes talking to Dex. “Honestly? It’s just old. With all the parts to replace, at this point I’m thinking it might be cheaper just to buy a new one.”
Nursey nods like he understands any of this, and sits on the washer next to him. He stares at Dex’s tight jaw and the fine line of his lips. “You’re really cool.”
He didn’t mean to say that. Why did he say that? He doesn’t even remember the thought process–well, Dex is looking at him now, with a facial expression that would’ve looked angry if it didn’t also look confused.
“What?”
“I said–I said you’re really cool. Like, you fix stuff. Who fixes stuff anymore? It’s 2015.” He presses his palms into the lid of the washing machine. He’s sweating despite the general cool of the basement.
“Oh. Thanks.” Dex looks like he’s blushing, but it’s probably just his hair.
but you are still the god of fire and i want to touch you, but i am still afraid of being burned
“We’ll be juniors next year,” Nursey says, not daring to look up from his phone. He doesn’t want to see the look on Dex’s face. “Halfway done.”
It’s hot in the Haus—it always maintains a temperature a few degrees above or below a comfortable level. Nursey is lying on the loveseat facing the front window of the Haus, the brim of his snapback forming a line of sweat against his forehead. Dex sits on the floor, papers spread out on the table in front of him. Very slowly, he turns to look at Dex, examines his cross-legged stance on the floor, looking like a deity that people would pray to if they wanted freckles. Dex swallows roughly, never pulling his eyes away from the paper. Chowder sleeps on the green couch.
Something in his head tells him he shouldn’t have said that and he knows it’s true, because Dex’s shoulders are tensing up. He hears the group in the kitchen burst into laughter.
Bitty and Jack and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster.
The laughter that comes from the kitchen reminds him of the line drawn in between Bitty’s freshman year and theirs, reminds him that he came in a step too late, and he missed out on something of unspeakable importance, immeasurable weight. He will never know the bond between those six people, and there is no way he could weasel in if his life depended on it. He knows all of these people, yes, but he will never understand the wiring of their relationships. Sometimes he lies in bed and realizes he’s in the first year that isn’t part of the “OG SMH”, and he doesn’t know how that makes him feel, really.
“Nursey?” Dex’s quiet, raspy voice is like a light turned on in a dark room when you’re trying to sleep. He’s probably been staring at the cuffs on his sweatpants for too long, because Dex is standing up and stretching and then coming over to the couch. Nursey groggily makes room and the cushion sinks down next to him, and Nursey can feel himself staring blankly out the window at the sun lazily dropping below the horizon, eyes glassed over like he’s dead. He hears Dex sigh heavily, and his calloused hand slides around Nursey’s arm until he’s almost hugging it, and his head rests on Nursey’s shoulder. Nursey’s brain tells him very loudly and clearly to do something, you idiot, so he tips his own head onto Dex’s, and they sit like that, listening to the static of chatter in the other room. Dex sniffs wetly.
“Dex,” He whispers, desperately pushing himself back to the surface, dragging his arms through the waters. “Dex.” He finds the brainpower to wrap his arms around him, feeling the soft fabric of the old hoodie Dex is wearing move over his tense back.
“Asshole,” Dex hisses, tears sliding down his cheeks, “I’m gonna miss you, and you’re not even gonna miss me.”
Someone in Nursey’s head turns the channel to something he hasn’t paid for, and everything is white noise and he gets a weird sort of tunnel vision on Dex’s blotchy face.
“I miss you every time I go to bed.”
Dex’s face goes from blotchy to straight-up red, and he reaches back to grab a pillow and comes back so hard on the swing that Nursey sees every God he’s ever prayed to.
“I will kill you, motherfucker,” he whisper-screams, and Nursey raises his forearm just quick enough to block the second blow, and is pushed onto his back by the force Dex is putting on the ten dollar decorative pillow from Bed, Bath and Beyond. If he was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ridiculous ears and his eyes would be on fire. His eyes are always on fire.
“Your eyes are always on fire.” Dex brings the pillow over his head like an executioner raising an axe and brings it down on his face.
“What is wrong with you?” He asks after landing a few more blows on his arm and tossing the pillow back to the couch corner.
Nursey tips his head back so he’s staring at the ceiling and focusing intensely on anything but the fact that Dex is straddling him and finds nothing wrong with it, apparently, but still got mad at him when he made a very romantic statement sexual, which Nursey doesn’t understand, and Dex shifts and it’s all over really. “I meant to say I miss you when I’m sleeping, or whatever. Like, I miss you when I can’t see you,” He says hoarsely. “Did you really think I wouldn’t miss you?”
Dex shifts again and shrugs. “I dunno,” he says bluntly.
“We were cuddling like a middle-aged couple about two minutes ago.”
“That was platonic.”
“I will punch you so hard.”
And then Dex freezes, and he freezes too, and for a while, it seems like both of them are waiting for the other to speak. The group in the other room has moved on to a quieter conversation, something more intimate. Chowder sleeps.
“It—I—I mean, I assumed—” Dex’s hands are starting to shake, and Nursey clumsily pushes himself up, and now he has a boy in his lap and a half-functioning brain.
“Do you like me, William J. Poindexter?” He meant for the tone to be joking and accusatory, but instead it comes out nervous and soft, like a kid asking out his crush to the dance in freshman year. Dex is shaking, and Nursey might be shaking too, and his sweaty hands grip the armrest of the sofa as paler, freckled ones come up to brush his jaw, palms pressing against his cheeks, and he can barely breathe, and Will Poindexter’s burning eyes slide closed.
Betsy 2 beeps loudly, and the conversation in the other room breaks into a chorus of “Pie!” and “S'wawsome!"s, and Chowder wakes up. They jerk away from each other, Dex sucking in a breath like he’d been punched in the gut. They lock eyes, and Dex hurries to get off of Nursey’s lap before Chowder has any grasp of what’s going on. Nursey gets up after him and almost falls over, but Dex catches him. They stare at each other for a long time, and Nursey maps the freckles on Dex’s face. He can only ever find Orion, but that’s usually enough—
"Are you guys coming for pie?” Chowder asks. Dex lets go of Nursey’s forearms and nods grimly, like he’s just confirmed that someone he cared about died and not that he’s getting some dessert. Nursey looks away from him and sighs tiredly.
“Pie sounds great.”
His voice sounds hollow, and he watches Chowder turn around and go into the kitchen. They stand in the doorway.
“Jack and Bitty are together. That’s pretty cool.”
Dex stares at the floor. He snaps his head up and walks into the kitchen. Nursey follows, helpless to do anything else.
we were so close this t
“What’s that?” Dex says quietly. Nursey looks up. He sees Dex looking at the document open on his phone, and he fumbles to cover it.
“Uh, it’s, it’s just some poetry.”
“Oh,” Dex says, and stares at Nursey’s hands. “Can I read some?” Nursey’s brain kicks into overdrive, and Dex must notice because an apologetic look crosses his face. “Sorry, I just—”
“You can read some,” The words come out of his mouth at a million miles per hour and about three octaves higher than usual, and Dex smiles wide. “Just—not here.”
They sit on the steps of the front porch, and Nursey scrolls up to the beginning of everything, and hands over his phone like it’s a weapon. Dex takes it and Nursey sits and waits.
It’s awkward at first, in the way it is when your teacher is checking over your essay and you have to wait for her to be done before you can start working again. His heart is racing. Suddenly, There’s a tangible moment where he can feel Dex’s realization, and he watches it unfold over his face in a wonderful way, and when Dex looks up at him, he smiles, nervous and a little bit embarrassed.
“Sorry.” Nursey says quietly.
He doesn’t say anything else because Dex kisses him. And he closes his eyes and cups the other boy’s face, because Nursey doesn’t take a single thing for granted. They pull apart but immediately push back in, foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other, eyes still closed. Eyes always somehow closed.
“I like you,” Dex whispers.
“I love you,” Nursey whispers back, because he’s a romantic.
Dex laughs breathlessly, and when he speaks it sounds like he’s about to cry. “Okay. I love you too.”
Everything is quiet as they sit, hands pressed together, and from an outsider’s view they probably look like a wedding photograph except Nursey is wearing a snapback and Dex has an old ratty flannel on. Nursey smiles, and he feels Dex smile too.
Nursey walks home feeling like he’s about to explode, and the quad is almost silent except for a few people dragging their drunk friends home. He’s always liked the walk back to his dorm, it’s a nice scenic route, and the lampposts shine yellow moons on the sidewalk leading to his building. He climbs the stairs and opens his door, stepping into his room and checking the whiteboard he and his roommate use to communicate. out for drinks. be back at some point probably it reads. Nursey reminds himself to text him later.
The realization washes over him again, and he starts to laugh to himself. “Oh my God,” he says, half-hysterical and a little too loud, “Oh my God!”
The people who live next to him bang on the wall twice, and he calms himself. “Sorry!” He yells at the wall, an apologetic smile on his face even though they can’t see him. He grabs his laptop and sits on his bed, hands close to shaking as he opens up the ever-present document. He smiles and squeezes his eyes shut again. Usually, he thinks for too long about titles, but this one comes naturally, and as he types it he smiles.
dex
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