i hope you don't mind me asking — but how / why did you pick the teams you cheer for currently? i just realized we don't have favorite teams in common but i love your energy and all of your poetry posts so much 🫶
oh so the penguins just happened to be the first team i found when i googled “hockey” but the bruins were an accident and also a mistake.
i don’t entirely know why i like the teams i like. i think i just tend to pick one character or dynamic i find interesting and follow that down a rabbit hole. i got into hockey after watching the pens 2009 cup documentary
(big strong manly dudes who talk about sports like it’s war and celebrate hard hits, playing through injuries, and getting into fights, who also nicknamed their little goalie friend Flower and made sure to give him forehead kisses after every game. i didn’t stand a chance)
so sid, geno, tanger, (talbot), and most of all flOWER were my first loves and ive kinda just stuck with them ever since.
at one point i tried to put together a spreadsheet to figure out which other teams to root for (based on their names, logos, place in the standings, nr of scandinavians etc). i immediately eliminated all the red white and blue teams because i thought the colour combination was unimaginative, then eliminated all the teams whose logo was just a letter because i thought that was stupid, then forgot all about the spreadsheet because a bruins fan was nice to me and i decided to root for her team just because i liked her vibe.
(dragged one friend down the marcheron rabbit hole with me and we watched game 7 together and i will truly genuinely never stop feeling guilty about putting her through all that. then bergy retiring broke me unfixable etc etc and now we’re here)
minnesota kinda became my team a few months ago, mainly because flower plays there, but also because i got to watch them play in stockholm and that was v exciting for me. the wild have been getting most of my attention lately because that’s the fandom where i have the most fun. whereas the goalies and the superstars tend to suck up most of the oxygen in other fandoms, wildblr for some reason tends to focus on the fourth liners and the losers and that’s more my vibe just in general.
hockey is only really an internet hobby for me, and none of my Real Life Friends really care about it, so i need some fandom friends to yell about these things with. im also several timezones behind and i catch most games a few hours after the fact, so if i have to scroll through a lb of a fandom that’s very negative i tend to just blacklist that tag. there’s a few teams i now see very little of & don’t massively care about for that reason.
this turned into a much longer reply than i intended but also i just really liked the question & you worded it real kind so i didn’t want to half ass it.
there’s other players i still like even though i don’t keep up w the team much (eichel, natemac, that little slutty guy from montreal, bertuzzi, tk, ej, etc etc) but there’s only so many hours in a day, you know?
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Just a Rock
For all the time I’ve spent traveling through space, I haven’t spend much of it actually out in space. It’s unsettling. Inside the ship, I can forget how close the airless void is, how small our precious bubble of air. But outside, everything is black like some vast creature ate all the color in the universe first, then the air, and is now hungering for life forms too.
Sometimes those distant stars look like teeth.
These are the thoughts that tend to pop up when I’m in my exo suit, hoping that my thruster pack doesn’t run out of fuel before I make it back to the ship. But then an empty pack of chips will float by my visor, and I can refocus on business.
That’s how it happened today, at any rate. (And yes, “day” is a silly concept in the blackness of space.) We’d made a detour to see if we could pick up some extra funds by gathering salvage from a museum ship that had gone kablooey, but so far all we were finding was trash.
Paint jetted past in her own exo suit, upside-down to my frame of reference, then stopped to pull apart a jumble of carpet fragments. “They really did clear out the good stuff already,” she said over the radio. She swatted aside a drink cup with her tail, looking like a little space-suited dinosaur, a thought that kept me entertained for a good few seconds.
Captain Sunlight’s voice said, “Keep an eye out for scrap metal. That may already be gone too, but it’s worth a shot.” She was somewhere else in the drifting junk pile, or maybe back near the ship; I couldn’t tell. There was too much stuff in the way. This was a mildly alarming thought — out of sight meant out of safety — but I caught a glimpse of the Frillian twins posted as safety guards at the edge of the cloud, and my heartbeat settled a bit.
“Do you think anyone will buy some mildly used carpet?” Paint asked the captain. “It’s only in several pieces.”
“Let’s go with ‘no.’”
“What about some very exotic — what is this — napkins? Made with authentic Earth wood fibers!”
I looked over at that. “How can you tell?”
“Oh, I have no idea,” Paint said. She held up half of a wall placard. “But this is from the Earth exhibit, so maybe the napkins are too.”
I looked around at the trash in a new light. “Man, it’s a pity we weren’t here for any of the good stuff.”
“Yeah, and all these food packages are empty! We can’t even get you a slightly exploded taste of home!”
I waved my hand through a cluster of soda bottles. “I appreciate the thought.”
Paint jetted over to a different pile of whatever. “Hey, do you think any of this food trash was actually an exhibit? Packaging from olden days?”
“Uh, maybe,” I said. “Probably not. That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect on a multi-species museum ship. A janky little humans-only one, maybe. But even then, most people aren’t going to care.”
Something clunked against the back of my helmet. I hate that. Nothing like a reminder that I can’t see behind me like some species can. I toggled the jets to rotate in place, so I could find the offending object.
It was a rock.
“What’s this doing here?” I asked, closing a gloved hand around it and bringing it in for a closer look.
“What’d you find?” Paint asked, sticking out sideways from behind a twisted bench.
“A rock.”
“A meteorite rock?” she asked. “Oh hey, do you think it pierced the hull?”
“No, it doesn’t look like a space rock,” I said, turning the small gray-and-white lump over. It was mostly smooth, with a divot that would have fit a fingertip if I hadn’t been wearing the gloves. “Weird. I wonder if it was part of some Neolithic exhibit or something.”
“Can I see?” Paint jetted over to park herself in roughly the same orientation as me. She was very good with that jetpack.
I showed her the rock. “It doesn’t look like any gemstone I know. Maybe some kid had it in their pocket, then threw it away.”
Paint cocked her head. “Is that normal, for your young to carry rocks around?”
“Sure. You never picked up something you thought was neat as a kid?”
“Not a rock,” Paint said with exaggerated disdain. “A sweet-smelling seednut or herb, absolutely.”
“But look: it’s even got a little finger groove,” I pointed out. “You could stick it in a pocket and rub it for luck.”
“Could you?”
I smiled. “You could. You probably wouldn’t, but…”
“Why?”
I looked at the rock again, already fond of it. “I get the feeling that I couldn’t explain this to a point where you’d agree.”
Paint shrugged. “Probably not. But hey, we found you a souvenir after all. From probably the Earth section of whatever museum this is.” She grabbed a handful of colorful pamphlets drifting by. “The ‘Galaxy in a Bottle Museum Tour Ship.’ Who named that?”
My smile turned into a wide grin. “Humans.”
Paint grumbled about the unflattering comparison of an elite starship to a simple bottle. When she moved to toss the pamphlets away, I held out a hand.
“What’s that white one?” I asked. “It looks like a display sign.”
Paint flipped over the stack and separated the one I meant. “You’re right. Hey, it’s about a rock!”
I reached out a grabby hand. “Gimme.”
She passed it over. “Is it that rock?”
I read the title, then was gut-punched by familiarity. I’d heard about this. “Yes,” I managed, skimming the rest of the sign and holding the rock close. “This is Bethan’s Rock.”
“What?”
I fumbled to explain. “Ages ago, a kid visited a museum — a human kid — and learned what museums were for, then offered her favorite rock as a donation, so other people could appreciate it too.”
Paint cocked her head in the other direction. “And they took it?”
“Yes!” I must have looked a little wild at this point, but I didn’t care. “The adults agreed that it was a fine thing to donate, not to mention adorable, and the only one of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. More museums should house the occasional favorite rock, though I suppose they wouldn’t be as special if they did.”
“So just to clarify,” Paint said. “There isn’t anything valuable about this rock, except that one of your youths decided there was. And all the adults played along.”
I smiled down at it, careful not to let it drift away. “It’s the most precious non-precious stone I’ve ever seen.”
Paint stared for a moment. “It’s not even one of those shiny ones you like.”
I laughed. “I know!”
The captain called us back in at that point, having found one decent chunk of metal among the mountains of trash. We had a schedule to keep.
I folded the sign and tucked it into my suit pocket, but held the rock tight in my fist as I jetted toward the ship, working the controls with one hand. I was already thinking of the safest place in my quarters to keep it until we got ahold of the proper Earth museum authorities. Other humans would want to see Bethan’s Rock, after all, but it would be my honor to watch over it until they could.
~~~
(Inspired by this post. Long live Bethan’s Rock.)
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!
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happy six month-aversary! 🖤
Eddie & 🐈⬛
"Dinner's here," you announce as you enter the Munson Castle, tossing the pizza box on the tiny table so you can get your shoes off.
Eddie's laid back on the sofa, his socked feet crossed on the coffee table. He's wearing plaid boxers and a faded black t-shirt with holes in it. He's got his arm wrapped around a box of cereal, and a full mouth that would make a chipmunk proud. He waves in lieu of spewing more crumbs down his front. A wise choice.
God, you love him.
"Your familiar's outside," you tease, taking off your jacket.
He finally finishes chewing his mouthful of cereal, swallows, and asks, "that bad-ass black cat that all the kids are scared of?"
You pick up the pizza box and bring it to the sofa.
"Nope, the little raccoon that keeps getting into everybody's trash."
A Froot Loop hits you in the chest, then bounces back onto the sofa.
Of course your feral raccoon of a boyfriend picks it up and eats it.
wheels-of-despair's six-month fic-iversary emoji-bration
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