#anger management pittsburgh

[thissugarcane]

justin taylor <3

I started writing this in a comment response to a very kind commenter on "swimming with sharks" on ao3, but then realized I was rambling rambling rambling away, so decided to put it here, instead. also it's one of two things I desperately want to fix about the season 5 rewrite which I want to do via "show not tell" (aka I don't want to explicitly say, or have anyone say via dialogue, "this is justin's journey to Discover Himself", but that's what I want to write).

So! The point that I think people sometimes miss (or maybe just don't focus on because usually, he is so self-aware compared to the others) about Justin: he is a teenager. and, like a teenager, he will try on different identities to see what sticks. he's strong and determined and kind and stubborn and god forbid someone tell him to do anything-- but he's also not a fully realized personality. (By the end of the show he is)

this comes out in the way that he mimics people he admires / fucks, throughout the show.

Like, obviously I don't think Justin is as eager to "be shown an identity to mold himself to" (like say, Michael is, for better or worse). But he definitely shows signs of using others around him, that he admires for whatever reason, to try on different identities.

He most obvious: Brian. So season one (and two) he's with Brian (or trying to be with Brian.) And we see him going clubbing / enjoying tricking and public sex and everything that Brian says is important. (I would argue that he does like those things, and I will stand by the idea that, while Justin might want to settle down, I don't think monogamy from his partner is as important as stability and security. But obviously being a club kid is a personality he tries on, and decides isn't exactly who he is.)

Then, he's with Ethan; he leaves The Club Kid Who's Agressively Queer And Proud behind to be With The Young Romantic Musician. And then we see him wearing turtlenecks and Being A Pretentious Art Student. Only, you see signs he doesn't like this particular identity, especially at that one party where he tells Ethan's friend off right before Carnivale. He prefers the atmosphere of Carnivale, even if he doesn't really like either. And I would argue Justin does like some of the things that go with this identity: the bathtub, the romance of eating on the floor in a small cozy hovel.

So he goes back to Brian, and they sort of do their own thing.... until Just 'gets with' Cody. It might not be romantic, but it's a significant relationship at the time. Justin shaves his head and gets off on agression. Would he do this if he weren't struggling with anger management and everything else? We have to assume no, since he, well, doesn't… but at the time, Cody is a personality he tries on, to try and deal with Stuff. *waves hands at PTSD*

When he goes to LA, Justin's 'with' Connor, and we see him go back to tricking and anonymous sex / sex parties, but it's in a suuuper LA way: he's at a rich sex party, he's being dragged to glitzy events, everything is super shallow. And -- I have to tell myself he didn't fuck Connor more than once or I get really sad, so it's just a lil crush that he avoids, sure -- he sounds really disappointed when his "in" to the all-access LA party scene, Connor, is done with him.

So he comes back home to Pittsburgh, and has Brian again... only he isn't sure who he is or, most importantly, who he wants to be. This was the character struggle I would argue the writers gloriously failed to depict in season 5, btw: Justin wanted Brian. He just didn't know who he wanted to be and what he wanted to do, for himself. (By the end of the season, arguably, he'd figured it out: he was determined, and he was strong, and he was a survivor, and he was gonna go be an artist, whatever hardship and slogging through galleries and schmoozing and bullshitting and people he wanted to murder he had to kiss ass. he was going. to. be. an. artist.)

they were just real bad at like. the journey to get there.

[endureqz]

[ kat graham ] – have you heard about [ kourt stone ]? [ she/her ] lives at the qz. i think they’ve lived there for [ eighteen years ]. they’re [ thirty ] yrs old and seem very [ nurturing ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ assertive ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ barn manager ]. they often daydream about [ drinking a mimosa on the beach ]. i’m curious to know more. | vi. cst. she/her.

BASICS - 

name: kourt stone

age: thirty-two

birthday: june 14th

zodiac sign: gemini

birthplace: san antonio, texas

age at outbreak: 9

job: barn manager

siblings: MIA (presumed dead)

positive: quick-witted, inquisitive, dauntless, resilient, adaptable, adroit, ardent, magnetic

negative: assertive, abrasive, deceitful, opinionated, spiteful, treacherous, easily angered, resentful,

children: N/A

FUN FACTS - tw: mention of death

elena grew up on a ranch in san antonio texas, with 2 brothers and 2 sisters.

when the outbreak happened, her family got separated so she ran with her little sister to find sanctuary somewhere.

they both bounced from group to group, learning different skills like fishing, hunting, archery. they were still both very young so when raids/attacks happened at the groups they learned very quickly to become as stealthy as possible to avoid being killed.

when elena was 14, their camp in ohio was attacked and she had to fight while her sister went to hide. when they won, she went to tell her sister the good news but could not find her. she spent days trying to find her sister, along with the rest of the camp, but after 2 weeks she was presumed dead.

heartbroken, elena left that group after causing a scene and inciting a war within the camp that left most of them dead.

that's when she found the pittsburgh qz, and has been tending to the horses ever since.

elena has RAGINGGGGGG trust issues because she never wants to love anyone like she loved her sister— because she's gone.

she spends her time at the bar when she's not at work, or flirting with the men in the alley just because she's bored.

she comes off as sweet, but has a BAAAAAD mean streak if you get her to that point.

she's almost always at least 3 shots in and loves to give unsolicited advice when she's drunk.

she does not trust fedra but keeps her comments to herself because of what she caused at her last camp. (they weren't fedra, she just caused a lot of people to fight by spreading lies)

she's vindictive, and she'll get even no matter the cost. if you cross her, she'll make it her mission to get you back one way or another.

wanted connections

SIBLINGS - younger sister preferably but any will do

someone from her last camp that survived (this would be v cool)

ex love (someone she fell for at the qz)

friends with benefits

someone she has a crush on but they don't know yet

enemies (for any reasons)

platonic soulmates

[lastedqz]

[ kat graham ] – have you heard about [ kourt stone ]? [ she/her ] lives at the qz. i think they’ve lived there for [ eighteen years ]. they’re [ thirty ] yrs old and seem very [ nurturing ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ assertive ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ nurse ]. they often daydream about [ drinking a mimosa on the beach ]. i’m curious to know more. | vi. cst. she/her.

BASICS - 

name: kourt stone

age: thirty-two

birthday: june 14th

zodiac sign: gemini

birthplace: san antonio, texas

age at outbreak: 9

job: barn manager

siblings: MIA (presumed dead)

positive: quick-witted, inquisitive, dauntless, resilient, adaptable, adroit, ardent, magnetic

negative: assertive, abrasive, deceitful, opinionated, spiteful, treacherous, easily angered, resentful,

children: N/A

FUN FACTS - tw: mention of death

kourt grew up on a ranch in san antonio texas, with 2 brothers and 2 sisters.

growing up surrounded by family, she took after her MD mother and began helping her aid her siblings sicknesses and injuries whenever they happened— quickly growing to love the science of medicine.

as she planned for her future, everything fell into place with her making the decision to become a doctor and own her own private doctors office, hoping to help those in need. all of those plan came to a grinding halt once she turned on the news to find out the world had stopped.

when the outbreak happened, her family got separated so she ran with her little sister to find sanctuary somewhere.

they both bounced from group to group, learning different skills like fishing, hunting, archery. they were still both very young so when raids/attacks happened at the groups they learned very quickly to become as stealthy as possible to avoid being killed.

when kourt was 14, their camp in ohio was attacked and she had to fight while her sister went to hide. when they won, she went to tell her sister the good news but could not find her. she spent days trying to find her sister, along with the rest of the camp, but after 2 weeks she was presumed dead.

heartbroken, kourt left that group after causing a scene and inciting a war within the camp that left most of them dead.

that’s when she found the pittsburgh qz, and has been tending to the wounded ever since.

elena has RAGINGGGGGG trust issues because she never wants to love anyone like she loved her sister— because she’s gone.

she spends her time at the bar when she’s not at work, or flirting with the men in the alley just because she’s bored.

she comes off as sweet, but has a BAAAAAD mean streak if you get her to that point.

she’s almost always at least 3 shots in and loves to give unsolicited advice when she’s drunk.

she does not trust fedra but keeps her comments to herself because of what she caused at her last camp. (they weren’t fedra, she just caused a lot of people to fight by spreading lies)

she’s vindictive, and she��ll get even no matter the cost. if you cross her, she’ll make it her mission to get you back one way or another.

AFTER PITTS -

coming very soon hehe

wanted connections

SIBLINGS - younger sister preferably but any will do

someone from her last camp that survived (this would be v cool)

ex love (someone she fell for at the qz)

friends with benefits

someone she has a crush on but they don’t know yet

enemies (for any reasons)

platonic soulmates

[missmickiescorner]

Fred Rogers Speech to the US Senate on Funding for PBS

[Senator Pastore]: Alright Rogers, you've got the floor.

[Mr. Rogers]: Senator Pastore, this is a philosophical statement and would take about ten minutes to read, so I'll not do that. One of the first things that a child learns in a healthy family is trust, and I trust what you have said that you will read this. It's very important to me. I care deeply about children.

[Senator Pastore]: Will it make you happy if you read it?

[Mr. Rogers]: I'd just like to talk about it, if it's alright. My first children's program was on WQED fifteen years ago, and its budget was $30. Now, with the help of the Sears-Roebuck Foundation and National Educational Television, as well as all of the affiliated stations -- each station pays to show our program. It's a unique kind of funding in educational television. With this help, now our program has a budget of $6000. It may sound like quite a difference, but $6000 pays for less than two minutes of cartoons. Two minutes of animated, what I sometimes say, bombardment. I'm very much concerned, as I know you are, about what's being delivered to our children in this country. And I've worked in the field of child development for six years now, trying to understand the inner needs of children. We deal with such things as -- as the inner drama of childhood. We don't have to bop somebody over the head to...make drama on the screen. We deal with such things as getting a haircut, or the feelings about brothers and sisters, and the kind of anger that arises in simple family situations. And we speak to it constructively.

[Senator Pastore]: How long of a program is it?

[Mr. Rogers]: It's a half hour every day. Most channels schedule it in the noontime as well as in the evening. WETA here has scheduled it in the late afternoon.

[Senator Pastore]: Could we get a copy of this so that we can see it? Maybe not today, but I'd like to see the program.

[Mr. Rogers]: I'd like very much for you to see it.

[Senator Pastore]: I'd like to see the program itself, or any one of them.

[Mr. Rogers]: We made a hundred programs for EEN, the Eastern Educational Network, and then when the money ran out, people in Boston and Pittsburgh and Chicago all came to the fore and said we've got to have more of this neighborhood expression of care. And this is what -- This is what I give. I give an expression of care every day to each child, to help him realize that he is unique. I end the program by saying

"You've made this day a special day By just your being you There's no person in the whole world like you And I like you, just the way you are"

And I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable, we will have done a great service for mental health. I think that it's much more dramatic that two men could be working out their feelings of anger -- much more dramatic than showing something of gunfire. I'm constantly concerned about what our children are seeing, and for 15 years I have tried in this country and Canada, to present what I feel is a meaningful expression of care.

[Senator Pastore]: Do you narrate it?

[Mr. Rogers]: I'm the host, yes. And I do all the puppets and I write all the music, and I write all the scripts --

[Senator Pastore]: Well, I'm supposed to be a pretty tough guy, and this is the first time I've had goose bumps for the last two days.

[Mr. Rogers]: Well, I'm grateful, not only for your goose bumps, but for your interest in -- in our kind of communication. Could I tell you the words of one of the songs, which I feel is very important?

[Senator Pastore]: Yes.

[Mr. Rogers]: This has to do with that good feeling of control which I feel that children need to know is there. And it starts out, "What do you do with the mad that you feel?" And that first line came straight from a child. I work with children doing puppets in -- in very personal communication in small groups.

"What do you do with the mad that you feel When you feel so mad you could bite When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong And nothing you do seems very right What do you do, do you punch a bag Do you pound some clay or some dough Do you round up friends for a game of tag Or see how fast you go It's great to be able to stop When you've planned the thing that's wrong And be able to do something else instead And think this song I can stop when I want to Can stop when I wish Can stop, stop, stop anytime And what a good feeling to feel like this And know that the feeling is really mine Know that there's something deep inside that helps us become what we can For a girl can be someday a lady And a boy can be someday a man"

[Senator Pastore]: I think it's wonderful. I think it's wonderful. Looks like you just earned the 20 million dollars.

[princessphilly]

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CW: Angst, angst, angst. 

Word count: 2916

Nina sighed as she snuggled her pillow. It sucked watching Sidney shake hands in the handshake line, the disappointing end to a good season. She sniffled as she watched Sidney stoically shake hands with the Flyers, disappointment and anger on his face.

This season, the Penguins had drawn the Islanders in the divisional semi-finals. After a hard-fought seven game series, the Pens had finally got past the Isles. However, the Flyers, surprisingly, made it past the Canes and the Battle of Pennsylvania was on. Unlike 2018, the Flyers won this time, in five games. Nina put her phone on vibrate, just in case Sidney called her.

However, Sidney didn’t call that night or for a fucking week. Nina was understanding at first but understanding turned into annoyance when pictures were posted of Sidney golfing with Kasperi, Brandon, and a couple of the single players. Nina just was glad she had the foresight to limit comments on her IG to approved commenters because she had no interest in people asking questions about him.

Scrolling her phone, Nina read a text from Marisa: has he called u yet?

No, Nina simply responded. She wasn’t going to call him first either. Let him have his bitch fit and golf. He didnt tell me he was going to go do that n im not his wife.

Nina’s phone rang and she answered. “Yes, Marisa?”

“Oh, Nina, he’s a douchebag. I can ask Kevin to slash him a couple of times next season,” Marisa commiserated.

Nina replied, “He hasn’t called me or texted me since that night. I haven’t tried to call him since Sunday because fuck that. I know he got his superstitions and everything but, no. Hell no.”

“I agree. Have you been out?”

Nina shook her head before saying, “I was finishing finals so I haven’t been out. Karesha told me we’re going out this coming Friday and, you know I don’t party like that but I will.”

“Give him something to miss,” Marisa advised.

Nina scoffed, “Something to miss? He’s lucky if I let him talk to me whenever he gets back.”

**

Sid groaned as he turned in his bed in Cole Harbour. He was so fucking pissed about the way the season ended; they finally got past the Isles only to get tripped up by fucking Giroux and his Flyers. Fucking Hart was a damn brick wall and fuck, Sidney could sense that his time in the game was coming to a swift close soon. For the past week and in a half, he had been in a funky snit, annoyed and needing to be away after golfing with the boys.

At the same time, he felt like shit. Sidney knew he shouldn’t have avoided Nina’s call; he was still raw from the loss and he didn’t want to expose Nina to that side. But, she hadn’t called or texted him since and Sidney didn’t know how to break the silence that he had created. Picking up his phone, Sidney blinked when he saw all of the messages on his lock screen. The team’s group chat had been busy last night.

Unlocking his phone, Sidney’s eyes bulged when he saw the messages. There were pictures of Nina out, with one of her friends, wearing a dress that was barely there. Her hair was falling straight over her shoulders but what really got Sidney’s attention was the fact that there were guys all around her. Then Nate sent a text; i guess ur single now. Told u not to go home without talking to her

“I’m a fuck up,” Sidney moaned.

“Yup, you are.”

Sidney blinked as he looked at his phone. He managed to call Tanger and Tanger didn’t look pleased.

“Sid, we’ve been friends for a long time but, I didn’t think you were this stupid,” Tanger scolded. “Really?”

“You know with the way the season ended,” Sidney began before Tanger cut him off.

“Nina knows that. She respects that. Nina’s not clingy or needy like some of the other girls. But, Cath told me you haven’t even called or texted her? Wow, Sid, wow.”

Sidney blushed as he listened to one of his closest friends berate him. Tanger was right. But how was he going to even apologize without looking like a bigger dummy?

“Well, you’re already acting like a dummy, Sid, so you might as well look like a bigger dummy,” Tanger snarked. “Nina isn’t like the other girls. She doesn’t need you.”

Sid gritted his teeth at that statement, especially since he knew that it was very true.

Sidney heard French yelling in the background before Tanger stated, “Cath thinks that despite being so good at hockey, you suck at being a person. And you made Nina cry when Cath last talked to her.”

Sidney wanted to slap himself. He made his pretty girl cry. “Fuck,” he yelled.

“Yeah, fuck. Fix it, Sid, instead of fucking yourself over forever.”

Sidney scrolled his phone after Tanger hung up on him. It looked like he was flying into Pittsburgh asap.

**

Nina sighed as she padded in her apartment. Last night was fun, going out with Karesha. They had just gone out to dinner, a jazz lounge, then ended the night at a rooftop bar. Nina knew people had been taking pictures of her all night and that people were wondering where Sidney was but that wasn’t her problem. There had been plenty of guys willing to take her home but Nina wasn’t interested in any of them either. She still wanted Sidney but fuck him too.

Her doorbell rang and Nina looked at the panel. It was Sidney with a pastry box and a wide grin on his face. Nina opened the door with a smile.

“Hi, pretty girl-”

Then she slammed it in his face, her grin growing wider as she loudly locked the door. Just like a man, coming back right when they realized she was getting attention from other men.

“Go away, Crosby, unless you want attention because you’re knocking on my door,” Nina yelled from the inside. Putting her earpods in, Nina cleaned her apartment for the umpteenth time, singing along.

Sidney gritted his teeth outside of Nina’s apartment. He was expecting her to let him in, yell at him, then he would charm his way back in. He didn’t expect to get the door slammed in his face and being told to leave. His desire not to gain extra attention was the only reason he left.

Nina sighed when she heard Sidney stomp away. Her anger was starting to change to sadness, again. She had hoped this would be different but Sidney was just like every other man; ain’t shit at the end of the day.

**

“Take him for all his cash, girl. Then tell him, maybe I'll take you back.”

Nina rolled her eyes as she listened to Jamila. “For someone so wealthy, you sure like to talk about taking men for their cash.”

“It’s like this; men figure out their self-worth by how big their dick is, how many women they fuck, and how much money they have. You don’t want to go to jail so you can’t cut his dick off. So, fleece him and then dump him for good,” Jamila advised.

Nina sighed and Jamila groaned. “Oh my God, please don’t tell me you miss this dumbass. Dude didn’t contact you after losing in their playoffs! He ignored your call! He only contacted you in person after you and ‘Resha went out! The dick can’t be that good!”

Nina sighed as she listened to Jamila. Over the past couple of days, there had been Edible Arrangement deliveries, lunch bought for the staff, cards proclaiming that he was dumb as hell and sorry for being an idiot. And Nina still didn’t respond. No calls, no texts, Nina was still upset and feeling raw.

“Jamila.. Glass houses remember?”

Jamila sighed over the phone. She didn’t really have that much space to talk but she persisted, “You let him off easy, he’s going to walk all over you forever. I know I’m a fuck up but I never let a man walk all over me. Don’t let Mayo Boy, no, he’s Miracle Whip because that shit is disgusting and he hurt you. Don’t let Miracle Whip think he can apologize a couple times and you’ll come running back.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet. Plus, I’m going away with Desi, Sio, Lauren, and Kim to Phuket. You know, that trip you helped plan but you can’t go on now,” Nina said as she logged into her workstation. Work had become a refuge of sorts. Everyone was pretty much professional, no one brought up anyone’s personal life. It was all about work and the patients and it made Nina happy. “I gotta go, I have a patient at 8:30.”

“Bye girl, and remember what I said,” Jamila replied.

“Byeeee”

Nina hung up and pulled her earpods out of her ears. It was time to focus on another day of work. Before Nina realized it, it was lunch time. Rubbing her temples, she sighed as she thought about lunch. Grabbing her purse and her keys, Nina made her way out of her office. “Rita, I’m going to get lunch,” Nina called out to the receptionist.

However, as soon as she left, Nina saw the infamous Range Rover in the parking lot and she closed her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood and it looked like it was going to get embarrassing for Sidney.

Luckily, it wasn’t Sidney who came out but someone totally different. Nina let out a breath she was holding and walked to her car. Her vacation was coming up in three days and she would be away for two and a half weeks. Sidney would probably leave her alone once he realized she was out of the country. Nina was sure of it, he had to have been icing her out to dump her anyway for the offseason.

**

“Still no call?”

Sidney sighed as Geno plopped in the chair across from his. He had put on his best smile today for Nikita’s birthday but he was feeling the strain.

“None,” he finally replied. Sidney felt so tired and such a fool. The best thing in his life had slipped out of his fingers and it was all his fault.

Geno snickered as Anna strolled in, holding a box. “Zhenya,” she asked before rolling her eyes at Sidney.

“Da,” Geno replied.

Anna started speaking rapid fire Russian, too fast for Sidney to even attempt to keep up. Geno started to laugh when Anna pointed to Sidney before pointing to the box. Then Anna abruptly turned on her heel and left the room.

Confused, Sidney asked, “What was that?”

Anna hadn’t been talking to him and Sidney felt like he was part of the subject of that conversation. Geno chuckled before replying, “Anna said that it’s a shame Nina isn’t here but she made sure to at least have a gift sent for Nikita before going to Thailand.”

Geno didn’t add the rest, which was Anna saying Nina had better manners than his captain, to at least send a gift that she didn’t have to send, before disappearing. He wasn’t interested in kicking his captain when he was down.

Sidney winced. Part of him felt a bit happy that Nina was somewhere, having fun but it was without him so it was his fault.

“Oh, look at this, Nina’s riding elephant,” Geno crowed as he looked at instagram. Sidney looked at the picture. Nina was riding an elephant, making some kind of triangle symbol with her hands. Then he looked at the comments and the first one said: look at you, dropping baggage and having fun.

Geno snickered before saying, “Poor Sid.”

“Not supportive, Geno,” Sidney remarked, closing his eyes.

There was a pause before Geno replied, “Maybe donate money to things Nina likes. Maybe she’ll talk to you when she gets back.”

**

Sidney checked his phone for what seemed like the umpteenth time. “Cros, she’s not going to text you.”

Sidney rolled his eyes at Tazer’s annoyed tone. Webs, Pricey, and Tanger laughed at him. They were all in Toronto together for a team Canada thing but that was over and they were out for drinks.

“Heard you fucked up, badly,” Webs stated in a dry tone. “When in doubt, always apologize first and buy the woman her favorite thing second.”

“Nina’s not big on buying stuff,” Sidney absentmindedly replied. Getting Nina to splurge on herself was like going to the dentist. It wasn’t fun.

One thing Sidney did realize from off and on monitoring Nina's Instagram was that she was big on helping out at the Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank, she liked volunteering at the Humane Animal Rescue of Pittsburgh, and every year, she volunteered at a pop-up shop for girls who wanted to go to prom but couldn’t afford it.

Sidney wrote five figure checks to each organization, in Nina’s name, no strings attached. Sidney was serious about trying to get his pretty girl back and he knew that Nina was serious about volunteering and giving back. Now, he was just waiting to see Nina’s reaction. If Nina told him thanks but it was over, Sidney would be upset but he could accept it.

There were no texts that night but that morning, Sidney woke up to a text from Nina. It was a simple thank you but it meant more than anything to Sidney at that moment.

**

Nina sighed as she looked at the thank you cards that had been waiting for her when she returned home. This was so out of the ordinary, she had to text Sidney when she saw them. It was more meaningful than gifts.

The trip to Phuket had been amazing but there had been a tinge of sadness for Nina. She enjoyed riding the elephants, experiencing the beaches, going diving, everything. It was truly the vacation she had been waiting to have, after Covid and then switching jobs had pushed everything back. Despite her best efforts, Nina missed Sidney. She missed that dumbass hockey player, he had wormed into her heart that easily. She missed him and was still supremely angry at him. Nina felt like the biggest dumbass on earth. As she waited for him to show up at her place, she wanted to bang her head into the wall. I fucked up by dating him, Nina said to herself.

Her doorbell rung and Nina opened the door. It was Sidney, hands in his pockets, no gifts this time. He ached to bring her into his arms but Sidney wouldn’t touch Nina unless she gave him permission.

There was a stony silence after Sidney closed the door, neither willing to say the first word. Nina tried to summon some of the anger she had but all that was left was pain and sadness. Before she even realized, a couple tears had slipped. Sidney saw them and his composure completely crumbled. He did the one thing he swore he would never do; he made his pretty girl cry.

Nina hiccupped as Sidney pulled her into his arms. He just held her as she cried. “Fuck you, Sidney Crosby. I felt like you were icing me out before dumping me. Fuck you, you fucking jagoff.”

“I-I should have said something but I was so pissed and I didn’t want to lash out at you. Then it just snowballed,” Sidney said, heartbreaking as Nina sniffled.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass. I don’t even know why I’m even considering taking you back.”

Sidney said, “I just didn’t want to burden you with everything I go through at the end of the season, especially when it’s disappointing.”

“Fuck that, Sidney.” Nina glared up at him, the big dummy. “Communication, it means that if you say you’re in a relationship, you communicate. You should have even sent a text, ‘I’m pissed as fuck, going golfing with the boys, be back soon’ or even just periodically texted those stupid hi and good morning beautiful texts. How would you feel if I didn’t call or text you and went away?”

Sidney paused as he considered Nina’s point. He was unhappy he didn’t know that Nina had gone away without telling him but he couldn’t say anything now. “Your face says it all, Crosby,” Nina snarked.

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Sidney said, deep from his heart.

Nina sighed, she could tell he was truly sorry. “Those donations… they were a total surprise. They all needed the money and are dear to me. But the Pittsburgh Prom Dress giveaway, we always need more funds since it doesn’t get as many donations around the year. Your donation not only allowed us to provide more dresses this prom season, it also allowed us to expand our collection so that we could provide suits as well as dresses. Thank you, Sidney.”

“You’re welcome,” he sincerely replied.

Keeping her cheek on his chest, Nina said, “I’m dumb because I really am considering taking you back. But don’t ever do that again.”

Pulling away a bit, Nina looked deep into Sidney’s eyes. “I’m serious. I don’t think I’m clingy, I don’t require much, but don’t even do that again. I don’t need you to call me everyday but don’t ever ignore me like that again, Sidney.”

“I won’t, I swear,” Sidney promised, happy that his pretty girl was talking to him again.

[iceeckos12]

ouch oof i am sad

remember the scene that @pitviperofdoom was talking about in this post? well this was something she mentioned in the discord server and because i am always a sucker for a good angst, i wrote an entire Thing for it. content warnings under the cut

basically: assistant archivist au where gerry did die. mentions of past character death

Jon’s quiet as Julia explains how to pull Gerard Keay from the page. This is not unusual in and of itself. Jon is not the type of person to fill spaces with endless chatter, or to make small talk for the sake of it. Martin and Jon’s friendship has been characterized by long, comfortable silences and the conversation they make between each one.

This is different, though. Martin can’t tell if it’s because of his connection with the Beholding that he knows, or if he’s just gotten better at reading Jon, but this is - wrong. The last conversation that they had, if you could call it a conversation at all, was Jon quietly asking if they could stop by Pittsburgh to visit the hospital where Gerard Keay died. Since then, he’s been mostly lost in thought.

Martin knows that Jon and Gerard worked together with Gertrude. He’s inferred that they were friends, because Martin has learned to read the quiet grief that crosses Jon’s face whenever Gerard is mentioned. Now he’s wondering if they were closer than he realized.

He doesn’t dare ask though, not in front of Julia. And he’s not even sure that Jon would tell him if he did ask. So he sets aside his worry, turns to the Hunter, and says, “Thank you, Julia.”

Her smile is full of teeth. “Give the door a knock when you’re done.”

Martin watches her go, unwilling to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. When the door finally clicks shut, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief and looks down to find Jon holding the book in his hands, staring at it, perfectly still.

“...Jon?”

Jon jumps and looks up, his lips pressed into a thin, bitten line, his eyes slightly wild.

Martin knows how to handle Jon when he’s scared, when he’s cruel. He knows how to handle Jon when he’s simmering with anger, when he’s exhausted and frayed about the edges. This is completely new, and he shifts at the unwelcome, familiar feeling of uncertainty. “Do you...want me to do it?”

Jon immediately shakes his head, so quick it looks painful. “No. No, I should…” he takes a deep breath, scrubs his hand through his hair. He takes a few quick steps forward, then turns around, the book pressed to his stomach. “I’ll do it.”

Martin opens his mouth to question the wisdom of that idea, but then Jon is flipping open the book to the last page. He clears his throat once, twice, and then, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide.”

Jon’s voice breaks on the last word, and he stops.

“...Jon?”

Martin watches the gentle bob of Jon’s throat as he swallows. Then he shakes his head and says in a voice much stronger and clearer than before, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide. He tried to refuse their drugs…”

He continues talking, his voice rising and falling with every word, like he’s reading just another statement. He slows as he reaches the last few sentences.

“...And his only thought was to cry out for the one he loved. He could feel small, familiar hands gripping his, the soft rise and fall of a voice, hushed like a prayer. The name fell from his lips, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not he had been heard. He hoped that he had been heard. And so Gerard Keay ended.”

Gerard Keay stands in the center of the room. He’s wearing all black, which Martin had expected. Black trench coat, black trousers, black boots, eyes made sharp with makeup. He looks like he just raided the shelves of a Hot Topic, only he makes it work.

Gerard’s gaze flickers from Martin to Jon, and for a moment there is no recognition, no comprehension. He opens his mouth - and then he stills, his eyebrows coming together in vague confusion. His jaw slackens, and his eyes widen, and his expression is cracked open like an egg, revealing the vulnerable yolk beneath.

Jon makes a sound. Martin could not characterize that sound even if he wanted to. It sounds like - like all of Jon’s insides have been scooped out of him, like he’s surrounded by air but he can’t get a breath, like - grief. It sounds like pure, mortal grief.

Just like that, Martin understands.

“Jon,” Gerard Keay says.

And then Jon bursts into tears.

“Gerry,” Jon gasps, but when he reaches out his hand goes right through Gerry’s sleeve. “Gerry, I - “

“Jon,” Gerry steps in close, his hands framing Jon’s face, staring at him the way a drowning man stares at a life raft.

“I’m sorry,” Jon manages. “Gerry I’m so - I promise, I didn’t know, I - “

“It’s okay,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s hair reflexively, but freezes when his fingertips disappear into Jon’s forehead. His expression crumples. “It’s fine, I know. I know. Jon, Jon - ”

And then they’re both crying, tears dripping down. Jon’s face is buried in his hands, and he’s weeping, keening, and Gerry keeps reaching for him, but there’s no way to connect, no way to touch. There’s no relief. It’s just shared grief, endless and pervasive and shattering.

Martin turns away and frantically scrubs his hands across his face. Oh, God. He feels so guilty, but he doesn’t want to be here right now. There is a Shakespearean tragedy playing out before his eyes, the kind that’s brimming with heartache and things left unsaid, and he is powerless against it.

Finally, mercifully, the sound of crying dies away into exhausted silence, except for thick, heavy breathing. Martin keeps his back to them, wanting to give them some semblance of privacy for a conversation that they obviously need to have.

“...so where is she?”

Jon huffs out a quiet laugh, lacking humor, edged with hurt. “Dead. Shot to the chest.”

“Figures.” A meaningful pause. “So are you...”

“Oh, no. No, it’s...oh. Martin?”

Martin sniffs hard and drags his hands over his cheeks before turning around, forcing a smile on his face. Jon and Gerry are standing as close to each other as they can without touching, twin tracks of silver tears on their cheeks.  “Hi, sorry. Just...wanted to give you two a bit of privacy. Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist.”

Gerry dips his chin in acknowledgement, before turning his confused gaze back to Jon. “I thought…?”

“He knows,” Jon says quickly. “I’m...well. It’s complicated. Gertrude hid a lot more from us than we knew.” There’s still a raw hurt in Jon’s voice when he says that, mixed with a lingering sort of nostalgia.

Gerry grimaces. “Did she know about…”

Martin doesn’t realize what he’s asking about until he gestures toward his head, a helpless, reluctant sort of gesture.

“I - maybe?” Jon shakes his head, for the first time turning out of Gerry’s orbit, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’d like to think not, but...it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone. We’ll never know.”

There is a moment of silence. Martin bites his lip, then forces himself to stop when he realizes that he’s already chewed it bloody. It’s hard to watch Jon draw back into himself, put the pain where it can only hurt himself.

“Hey,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s chin, frowns when his hand sinks into the skin. He shakes his head and walks around so he can insert himself into Jon’s field of vision. “Stop. I can feel you blaming yourself, okay? Just...stop. It’s not your fault.”

“...but I should’ve -”

“I am not letting you use this as another stick you beat yourself with,” Gerry interrupts firmly. “You read my page, didn’t you? I didn’t die alone. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but you don’t understand how much I -”

He breaks off. Jon’s breath rattles dangerously again.

“I always thought that I was going to die alone,” Gerry finishes.

There’s another moment of silence. Jon puts his head in his hands again, and Martin aches at the way Gerry’s face crumples with the desire to reach out, to comfort. They’re in the same room, but there’s a yawning, uncrossable distance between them.

Then Jon lowers his hands. There’s a spark in his eyes that Martin recognizes: the scarce moments before an inferno, before manic determination sets Jon’s whole being ablaze. “Gerry, I’m getting you out of here. I can - you and me, we can figure it out. We can -”

“No.”

Jon pauses. The spark jolts, catches on the cool wave of his confusion. “...what?”

“I’m dead, Jon,” Gerry reaches out for Jon again, then stops. Lets his arm fall to his side, clenches his fists. “I can’t live like this.”

Breathless hurt snatches across Jon’s face. “No, Gerry. I can’t - not when I’ve just found you, I -”

“It hurts, Jon,” Gerry interrupts, and he does not seem like the type to beg, but his voice dips at the end with a desperate plea. “It...it hurts, all the time, and...I just want to rest. Please, just let me rest.”

Jon swallows once. Twice, and his face crumples with sympathy, with empathy, with that awful exhaustion that they’ve all been wearing since what feels like forever. After a moment, he nods.

Gerry lets out a low, quiet sigh of relief, tension draining from his broad shoulders. He smiles faintly, ghosting his knuckles against Jon’s cheek. Jon leans into the touch even though he must not be able to feel it, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth drawn.

“I wish you were here,” Jon whispers.

“Yeah,” Gerry steps back, hiding his expression behind his long curtain of black hair. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence. A rearranging of expressions, a folding of hurt and pain back where it can no longer be seen. Jon is once again himself, his expression distant, and Gerry is wry and so very, very dead.

Gerry turns to Martin and smiles. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, Martin.”

Martin swallows, trying to unearth his voice. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then Gerry turns back to Jon. “You know what to do.”

Jon nods again, sharp and short. “I...I dismiss you.”

Gerry closes his eyes, and the whole room sighs as he dissipates into nothing.

Jon stands alone in the middle of the room, spine so straight there may as well be an iron rod put up the back of it. Martin doesn’t even know what the hell he is supposed to say. There is nothing he can do to make this better. How the hell is he supposed to make this better?

The moment passes. Jon’s shoulders slump, and when he turns back to Martin, his eyes are empty.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says monotonously.

Martin cannot do this. Martin cannot just stand there while Jon apologizes and looks at him like that, and -

“Don’t apologize,” he steps forward. “Can I hug you? Please?”

Jon thinks about that for a moment. When he eventually nods, Martin crosses the short distance between them and folds Jon into his arms, trying to ease the sharpness of the pain he surely must be feeling. He can’t make it better, but he can make sure that Jon knows that he isn’t alone. He can do this.

Jon doesn’t move for a moment, his face pressed into Martin’s shoulder, his arms loose at his sides. But just when Martin is about to pull away, he slowly reaches up, curls his hands in the fabric of Martin’s shirt. Lowers his head so he is half-buried in Martin’s embrace. He was already small, but he tries to make himself smaller, like he’s trying to hide himself in the folds of Martin’s pullover.

Eventually, he lets go. Eventually he steps back, letting his bangs hide his eyes, and goes to pick up the book. Martin watches his painful, slow movements, as though he’s filled with bruises from the inside out. He’s so distracted that Jon’s voice almost makes him jump.

“You should…you should do it.”

Martin shakes himself. “Sorry?”

“Burn his page,” Jon elaborates, holding the book out to Martin.

Martin gapes at him, stunned, because - “Um. No? Jon, why -”

“I can’t be the only person who’s ever done right by him.”

Oh. Well, when he puts it like that.

Martin swallows and takes the book gingerly, like he’s holding something precious. He flips to the last page and carefully tears it out, ignoring the way Jon’s breath catches at the soft ripping sound. Then he folds the page and puts it into his pocket, trying not to let on how nervous he is about having this precious page on his person. Trying not to let on how nervous Jon’s complete and utter trust makes him.

He is painfully aware of how many times that trust has been broken.

“Are you ready?” Martin asks.

Jon finally looks away from Martin’s pocket. “Yes. Let’s go.”

[yelenasdog]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝟏

   ♰ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔱

genre: fluff

summary: new school, new faces. or maybe not? part one to a series explaining the pictures of my college au moodboard “new faces”.

words: 2k

warnings: pining, cursing, kissing, lots of inaccuracies to the show, that’s all i can think of.

a/n: i haven’t done anything for cm in quite some time but i got this random poof of inspo so here take it LMAO roger fic coming really soon.

♀♀♀

It was their first kiss. First date, actually.

Emily was a senior at Georgetown, having just transferred from University of Pittsburgh for her last year. Both schools were an odd choice for the young woman, the former proving to be the wrong fit, as it turned out. It angered her mother that she had been transferring so close to graduation, and frankly Emily could care less, but for some reason, she felt her skin itch at any thought of staying at that horrid place just a semester longer.

She wasn’t quite sure as to why. Her questions might have been answered, though, her first day on the new campus. 

The fall air was chilly and crisp, her nose running ever so slightly as she would pull her burgundy jacket tighter around herself in a desperate grab at warmth, it all to no avail. She kept trying, though, pulling the tie around her waist so tight that it felt as if she was in a corset. 

(Not that she would know, she’d refused to ever get near one. The whole idea of them scared her.)

She watched the colorful leaves crunch under her boots, enjoying the sound and feeling a great deal, the texture reminding her fondly of moments from her youth, the few fond ones she had, anyway. She smiled softly, looking up to see the leaves swirl around a familiar looking blonde head of hair.

A few of the leaves got stuck in the hay colored (now) mess, and she only smiled at it, reaching up a gentle hand to pick them out. She grinned down at them and bit her pink lips, watching as they dropped to the cobblestone from her hand. She continued on with a pep in her step, and to put it lightly, Emily was infatuated.

She thought about the blue eyed beauty for the rest of the day, her elegance, her lips that somehow weren’t chapped in the horribly cold weather (which not that Emily knew yet, but was because of the cinnamon peppermint chapstick that the mystery girl kept in her right pocket), and her aura, so to say, as a whole. The voice in her head told her to simmer down, that it was unrealistic that someone as seemingly bright and sunny would even think about spending a flicker of precious time with someone like her. Emily should have been more confident, as she would learn, as mystery girl had been thinking of her, too.

Yes, Jennifer Jareau was thinking of the unknown girl with the wonderfully long eyelashes, and the shiny dark hair that was similar to the shade of black that graced the feather of the crows she would see down by the pond she passed on her morning runs. Her mind was otherwise occupied from all normal affairs, consumed by thoughts of her ripped and pale lips that the enticing other woman darted her tongue across mere seconds after the last time she had, every single time. 

Jennifer had wished to tell the girl that licking her lips only dried them out more, only wanting to help relieve her of any possible pain, as that’s what Jennifer always did. That’s why she told herself she was thinking of the drop dead gorgeous girl who she had sworn she’d seen before, and she promised to herself she would find her and let her know.

And apparently, she would.

It wouldn’t be for a few hours, though, not until they both ended up at the top floor of the library, the quietest one where there was a silent rule that speaking was forebode. Emily internally cursed herself for that, feeling damned that fate would put her in a position of such pining, yearning. It was an ironic situation, though, as Emily would like to believe that she would have the confidence in herself enough to actually go up to the blonde and make conversation, maybe ask her for a study date? But, she wouldn’t. Not today.

Jennifer would, though. Jennifer would catch notice of the brunette lurking behind the single bookshelf in the upper level, as it was only really there for storage and the shelves were sparse. So with her heart beating and her palms sweaty, she went down the flights of stairs, her feet silent against the carpet. They would sound out again when she reached the tile flooring of the second level, and she screwed her eyes shut, hoping that somehow the girl followed her and that JJ would hear her footprints.

She didn’t care how ridiculous she looked, all bundled up and standing in the middle of a group of tables with her eyes closed, almost like she was trying to turn invisible, hiding in plain sight. Honestly, she very well may have been.

A few beats passed, and Jennifer gave up on her non existent spidey senses, deciding to try to actually rid her mind of raven girl, as she had decided to call her until she knew her real name, and study for her upcoming exam that she her until she knew her real name, and study for her upcoming exam that she somehow had, despite it only being the sophomores first day.

So she sat quietly as she read through her criminology textbook, humming some tune that her friend had introduced her to, something by a new indie group. Her humming came to a cease, though, when she heard a thud. She looked up, a small gasp falling from her glossed lips at who was sitting across from her.

She looked right back down to the tanned wood of the table, as soon as she saw warm brown eyes boring into her. Then, it was quiet, just the bustle of those around her. Pages flipping, pencils scratching, and small groans escaping from tired students as they went.

“Why’d you stop?”

Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat, her perfectly manicured hand freezing on the paragraph she was reading. Raven girl's voice had caught her off guard, deep and smooth, like honey.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” The blonde stuttered out, still having a hard time meeting her eyes.

“Your humming, I liked it, it was nice. Don’t tell me you stopped because of me!” She leaned forward on her arm, quirking a perfect eyebrow. They both laughed, and Emily felt she hadn’t ever in her life heard such a golden and melodic sound before.

“Sorry, sorry, you just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Emily. I just transferred here from-”

“University of Pittsburgh?”

A look of bewilderment came across Emily's stark features, along with a sly smile. “How’d you know,”

“Jennifer. My name’s Jennifer. I came here for my grad studies a while back.”

Emily chuckled again, falling back to her chair. “God, I swore you looked so familiar.” She said, watching as Jennifer laughed and shook her head. Jennifer closed her book, observing that Emily never had even opened hers. She placed it in her bag slinging it over her shoulder. She stood, Emily following suite.

“Small world, right, Emily?”

She nodded immediately, tightening her own grip on her satchel. The leather was cool on her calloused fingers,

“Care to chat with me about it over a coffee?”

And that’s how they ended up sitting in the quaint cafe just down the road, watching as the sun started to sink, beverages in hand. Jennifer had found out that Emily preferred her coffee black, while Emily had found out that Jennifer liked hers with 2 hazelnut creams and 4 sugars. The thought made both girls smile, finding that both drinks fit their personalities perfectly.

Growing impatient, Emily ran her tongue over her lips again, feeling the peeling skin, the taste bitter and the sores burning. She leaned closer to Jennifer, like she had earlier in the library. Jennifer could feel her breath fanning over her neck, and it gave her butterflies, just like the ones she can remember being so obsessed with in her youth.

“What do you say we get outta here, find somewhere to watch the sunset?”

Jennifer only nodded bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and standing, taking Emily's hand as it had been offered to her, following her wherever she may go.

Now, they were sitting on the concrete of the rooftop to the freshman dorms, Emily somehow managing to get through, claiming she had some friends who would be happy to let her up. Apparently, she wasn’t bluffing.

“Sunset’s gorgeous, huh?” Jennifer spoke, her hands feeling the rough material beneath her, the wind blowing against her face. Her hair floated around her like a halo, and though Emily had lost much faith, if she had to spot an angel, her money was on them looking just like the girl next to her. Her eyes never left Jennifer’s silhouette as she spoke, her focus captured.

“Yeah. Breathtaking.”

Jennifer turned to meet her gaze, both of them fully understanding what breathtaking, really, truly meant in that moment. It was the windswept hair, breathtaking, really, truly meant in that moment. It was the windswept hair, watery eyes, red noses. Bright smiles, hands basically itching to reach for the other.

“Does everyone call you Jennifer?”

“I mean, my mom calls me Jen?”

Emily shook her head, saying “No, that won’t work. How about a last name?”

“Jareau.”

She took a second, using this as an opportunity to stall, decide her next move.

“I’ve got it! How about JJ? Yeah?”

Jennifer or JJ, smiled again, looking to her hands. She loved it, God, why did she love it? She knew the answer to that, because Emily had given it to her, it was new, exciting. Just like her.

“It’s that, or J squared. Which one?” She tilted her head, and then both laughed and smiled, something they found they would be doing a lot of together.

“Yeah, you’re right. JJ is good, it’s good.” She whispered, lifting her head. She was met with Emily, who had some troubled look upon her face. She was conflicted, that much JJ could tell, her few profiling classes she’d had serving her well.

They were close, now, and JJ could finally see the folds and cracks of the other girls lips, wanting nothing more than to just lean in and kiss them, once and for all.

“Y’know, uh, licking your lips makes dryness even worse.”

Emily's mouth made an “o”, a smile coming soon after.

“Really? Well then you’ve got to spill, what on Earth do you do to keep yours so damn perfect?”

“I- Fuck.”

Not waiting a second more, JJ rushed forward, connected their lips in what felt so long awaited, though they had only formally known each other for a few hours. The contrast of their skin was so enticing, so addicting, they couldn’t help but smile, teeth clashing and breaths mixing. They only separated to catch their breaths, chests heaving.

“It’s chapstick. I never leave home without it.” JJ commented, said chapstick having left remnants on Emily's lips. She nodded, opening her eyes.

“Yeah, I got that. Peppermint and,” She quickly flicked her tongue again, recognition becoming prevalent in her features. “cinnamon?”

JJ’s smile widened, as it had never left her face, and she nodded slowly, pulling the tube out from her right pocket. She popped off the lid, shifting positions so that she was straddling Emily's lap, her hair dangling in her eyes.

“Is this okay?” She questioned, the chapstick still in her shaky hand. Emily nodded vigorously, her heart beating quite fast, her mind repeating all the possibilities that could go wrong like some sort of mantra.

“Yeah, this is more than okay.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. JJ did the same, putting on another round of the solution before leaning down and placing a long kiss on Emily's lips. She pulled away, running the tube over them again, “just for good measure” she had said.

When they finally had left the cold rooftop, hand in hand, the sky had turned into an indigo sheet, the stars in it shimmering as bright as ever.

“Em?” JJ had questioned, stopping in her tracks. Emily looked over, raising her brows and tilting her head, resembling a puppy.

“Hmm?”

“Can we do this again?”

The question hung in the air, and Emily savoured it, letting it sink in deeply, as deep as it could go. They started walking again, their heels echoing loudly against the wet stone.

“Yeah, JJ. I’d like that.”

♀♀♀

hmmmmmmm interesting ANYWAY i’ll make a pt two prolly idk peace ily go drink water and eat protein 

edit: i just reread this this is so horrible what the FAWK im so sorry never let me write when im pulling an all nighter ever again

xx hj

[riddlegecko]

A brief rundown of each of my OCS so that y'all have context for my occasional OC posts

Francesca "Frankie" Falkenrath

The drama coach at Everett High (and freelance piano teacher) who survived an attempt on her life by her ex-boyfriend Jason, but only because a wandering spirit entered her body as her own soul tried to leave, putting her in an odd half-dead state where her soul is "off-center" and other ghosts can enter her body as they so please. Her own soul is now locked in a battle for control of it's own body with several other ghosts. Despite her unfortunate situation, she remains hard-working and optimistic.

Damien Hall

A cheerful local veterinarian, and Frankie's boyfriend of nearly seven years. Humble, sweet, and funny, if a bit of a doormat thanks to his constant willingness to put the needs of others before his own.

Det. Shiloh Hawthorne

A detective of the dead (or "dead-tective", if you will) and former Reaper assigned to investigate Frankie after her status in the Afterlife is listed as "Uncertain", as opposed to "Dead" or "Alive". Despite his frightening appearance and initially stoic demeanor, he's really a total softie once you get to know him. A lover of animals, music, and human culture in general who DESPERATELY craves a genuine friendship.

Det. Chester "Chess" Murdoch

A local private detective who solves minor cases with his twin sister Abigail as a part of the "Murdoch & Murdoch" detective duo, who gets roped into assisting Shiloh with Frankie's case. Fast-talking and eccentric, with a rather flowery vocabulary to boot. Despite his quirks, he's still a VERY competent detective, and would gladly take a bullet for his sister.

Det. Abigail "Abby" Murdoch

The older and more straight-laced of Dagwood Hill's "Murdoch & Murdoch" detective duo. Despite her more serious personality, she's not above her brother's certain brand of quirkiness, and has her own moments of eccentricity. Just as strong a detective as Chess, and is fiercely protective of her "baby brother".

Jason Fitzpatrick

The P.E. teacher at Everett High, who briefly dated Frankie after ending his marriage with his high school sweetheart Christina. A crass and abrasive man who only ever softens around his preteen son (from his marriage with Christina) Skylar, or his dog Rusty. Attempted to murder Frankie when she wouldn't get back with him several years later, but ended up with a gnarly facial scar and a 30-to-life prison sentence.

Skylar Fitzpatrick

The 11 year old son of Jason and Christina. Emotional, empathetic, artistic, and supernaturally inclined. In that, he can see and communicate with ghosts, even when they're NOT possessing someone, or (in Frankie's unusual case) currently in control of their host body. A sweet, yet very lonely boy who struggles to comes to terms with the fact that his family is broken.

Victoria Waterford

A successful local hairdresser (well, I say "local", but she's from Pittsburgh), and Frankie's best friend and former roommate. A smart and charismatic woman, with a strong passion for her work. She has a girlfriend, but I'm still trying to figure out her name and her role in the story, so please bear with me.

Christina Baxter

A kind yet tough local librarian, Jason's ex-wife, and Skylar's mother. Her son's high empathy was pretty much inherited from her, shown best by the fact that she went out of her way to befriend Frankie after the (at the time) naive young drama coach assistant ended her toxic relationship with Jason. Despite how rough her life has been, she remains strong for her friends and family, and will NOT let anyone pity her.

Xavier Lewis-Hall

Damien's ambitious, outgoing, and musically-talented preteen cousin. He used to get piano lessons from Frankie, which is how Frankie ended up meeting Damien in the first place. So you have him to thank for that. Dreams of becoming a famous musical theatre composer, and will not hesitate to tell you about his MANY ideas if you ask him. An amicable kid who manages to become Skylar's first non-ghost friend in YEARS, and forms a surprising bond with Shiloh over their shared love of music.

Robin Barrows

A teenage non-binary (she/her and they/them) piano student of Frankie's with a bit of a reputation around Dagwood Hill for being a troublemaker who likes to stir shit with local law enforcement. A good kid once you get to know them, but struggles in school thanks to her undiagnosed dyslexia, and has some anger issues. Frankie's just about the only teacher at Everett High who doesn't see her as a lazy problem child, and thus, she's the only teacher that Robin actually LIKES.

Hunter V. Luzzatto

The cynical and sarcastic ghost of a street guitarist who froze to death on the streets of Dagwood Hill during a particularly harsh Winter, and one of the ghosts attempting to take control of Frankie's body. He says his reasoning for doing so is so he can "experience the three biggest pleasures of life again". Meaning, eating food, having sex, and playing his guitar. You'll know he's in control when the room turns inexplicably cold. Despite his cynical outlook, dark sense of humor, and his beef with Shiloh, he has a soft spot for Skylar.

Mary Ann Fleisher

The ghost of a little girl from the 1930's who unfortunately passed after getting lost in the woods outside Dagwood Hill. After wandering the woods as a lost spirit for decades, she entered Frankie's body by complete accident, and wants nothing more than to get out and see her parents in the Afterlife. Timid and prone to tears, she's not in control of Frankie's body often, but it's always obvious when she is. If Frankie's shying away from everyone and speaking in a VERY small and scared voice, Mary Ann is in control.

Lucille Dagwood

The ghost of the long-deceased founder of Dagwood Hill, and one of the ghosts attempting to take control of Frankie's body. She believes that her beloved town has gone to shit, and wants to regain control of it. She's very stern and cold, able to shut anyone up with nothing more than a good old-fashioned death glare. It's never readily apparent when she's in control of Frankie's body, but once she speaks, you'll know.

[hockeylvr59]

It doesnt have to be a series, but maybe you could do a blurb about crosby having a kid when he was really young and backing out? like maybe he realizes that he should have stayed and made things work but now the kid is grown up and his ex doesnt really want him around? something angsty

This one kills my heart just a little. (838 words)

_____

It was hard living in a town where your ex was considered a savior. It was even harder when you were also trying to raise said ex’s son. You couldn’t walk down the street without hearing the men comment about the game Sid had played the night before or the little old ladies praise how he was just the sweetest, most respectful boy. It made you want to scream. 

Sure you were proud of Sid for the success he’d had in the NHL. At the same time though you were still furious at him for the way he’d handled things so many years ago. You’d both practically been kids, and he’d just been drafted when you found out that you were pregnant. Back then, you couldn’t see your future without Sid and though it wasn’t planned you’d expected him to step up, to bring you both with him to Pittsburgh, to raise this baby together and be a family. 

But one cool summer night he’d shattered those plans with five simple words. 

“I can’t be a dad.” 

You’d argued that he’d be a great father, but he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the pregnancy and nothing to do with you. 

That was 15 years ago and now your son was taking after his father in more ways than one. The fact that he was Sid’s kid was a not so secret secret. Everyone back then had known the two of you were together, had known the baby had to be his but no one treated him that way. You’d given your son your maiden name, papers weren’t writing about him being the next next great one, in a way it seemed like everyone had forgotten. 

And honestly, being forgotten was probably what was best for him. You’d never kept your son’s father a secret from him, he knew the genes he carried, but the lack of a label allowed him to grow and develop into his own player, following in the things that made his father successful on the ice while avoiding the mistakes he’d made off. 

Not having Sid around turned out to be a blessing. 

But of course, good things never last. You’d been watching your son’s game when your phone rang and seeing the caller id show a blocked number you ignored it thinking nothing of it. It wasn’t until you’d arrived home that you realized you had a voicemail. 

Hey, Y/N...it’s Sid. 

Three seconds in you already wanted to delete the message but something in you forced you to continue listening. 

Listen...I fucked up. I never should have walked away. Fuck...I was young and foolish and hockey seemed like everything to me. I didn’t realize just what I was losing out on. I should have brought you both with me, we should have done all of this together. I hear he’s kicking ass there. I hear that he’s everything I never managed to be. He’s focused and determined on the ice, but he also prioritizes time with his mom, his friends, the things that are really important. 

I know you don’t want to hear from me and you’ve honestly probably deleted this message by now...but if you’re still listening can you please give me another chance? Will you let me try and be a part of our son’s life? I know it’s too little too late but I’d do anything to turn back time. 

Uh...you can text or call me at (412) 888-7777 if you’re willing to talk. But uh thank you...thank you for being an incredible mom...and dad...and giving him everything he needs, I know it hasn’t been easy and that’s entirely my fault. 

The line went quiet after that. It had been so long since you’d heard his voice that it almost left you breathless. It wasn’t that you didn’t see him on tv all the time but the voice he used with media and the voice he’d used in the message were so distinct that you felt like you were a teenager again and he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you snuggled together, basking in the stolen moment. 

The part of you that was still in love with him, that saw him in your son each and every day wanted to call right back. That part was overshadowed by the anger that had been stewing inside of you for 15 years. He had no right to do this, no right to make things messy when you finally seemed to have everything on track. With the anger winning out regarding calling, but your heart winning control over your mental state you poured a large glass of wine and settled yourself in bed, silent tears streaking down your cheeks as you let years of pain and turmoil crash over you. You had no idea what you were going to do but for now, the voicemail played on repeat until you drank yourself into a fitful sleep.

[myhockeyworld87]

Thank heavens the Penguins aren’t playing the Caps! Washington has been playing so dirty against Boston, especially tonight. They sent a defenseman to the hospital with a dirty late hit, someone hooked a Bruin with his stick at his neck, they’ve given Rask some head shots in a couple of games including an elbow to the head tonight. They also went after everyone on their top line. Wilson cross checked a guy in the neck when he was down on the ice. Player safety really screwed up because he’s learned nothing and just seems emboldened . He has a serious anger management issue! Every time the Bruins scored there were antics and the horrible refs allowed it to happen. The Caps were getting outplayed badly, so they resorted to cheap shots. It’s one thing to play tough physical games, but that’s not what happened tonight. Now that the next game is an elimination game, won’t be surprised if they up their dirty game and try to seriously injure one of the Bruins’ stars like Pasta. If they were playing Pittsburgh, I’m sure Crosby would have a bullseye on his back.

Sorry I’m getting to this so late. I wasn’t around much this weekend. I totally agree with you. I think they are beating the shit out of each other. I haven’t watched too many of their games but have seen the highlights. I’m honestly glad the Bruins might win tonight. I’m sick the Wilson and his dirty plays and getting away with everything, but I could go on and on about that. It just seems like the Capitals mentality is to hire a bunch of thug bullies. So I won’t be disappointed if they get knocked out the first round. 🤗💕🤗💕

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 7 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

7. First Confrontations

It had been about two weeks since Danny had decided to visit the cemetery on his own. As he traveled the familiar paths, he constantly checked his surroundings for a sign of another's presence. Although he wasn't exactly, happy he felt that there was a need to check, it was better to play it safe. That creature had been there once after all, so who was to say that it would not appear again?

Without even realizing he had been aiming for it, he soon reached his favorite part of the grounds. A small stone terrace decorated with a couple benches sat neatly out of the way of both graves and the normal path. Since it was surrounded by trees, it was often easy to miss by visitors, assuring he would be able to think in peace for a while.

Words and images manufactured from hours of speculation kept swimming around his head. He tried to make sense of everything, but it just seemed to make his confusion worse. The puzzle of both his past and his parents' was not only vast, but complicated. It was likely it was possible to solve it; however he was pretty sure that there were several pieces that he still didn't have.

The new information about his unknown parents seemed to take precedence over any other thoughts. They had disappeared after being attacked, yet Winston had never actually said if they were still alive. Maybe his guardian withheld the information because of concern, or perhaps he didn't even know for sure. So, was it possible that they could still be out there somewhere? Wouldn't that be nice? But, he knew that it was incredibly unlikely just because of how much time had passed. Besides, he'd have absolutely no idea what he would say to them.

There was also the issue of the guy that had attacked his parents… Plasmius, or something like that. Winston seemed very hesitant to talk about him and had even danced around the subject once he had gotten a chance to ask him for details. Although he couldn't say for sure, it felt as if something big was being left out of the story, even if he had no idea what it could be. Was this Plasmius just an unorthodox researcher with some frightening ideas? Or was there more to it? Tucker had suggested that he could be some type of crazy arms dealer (though he personally didn't understand how weapons and paranormal science could mix).

Danny took a moment to both rest his mind and to attempt to figure out how to make his hand visible again. Shortly after his conversation with Winston, different parts of his body had seemingly begun to randomly disappear. The first time it happened, he had been trying to wash his face the one morning, only to realize that the wash cloth was seemingly floating in mid air. Although his hand reappeared only a few moments later, he was absolutely amazed that none of the neighbors called the police because of his regrettably very unmanly scream.

Since that initial incident, he was still no closer to understanding why it happened. It was possible that it was somehow related to the incidents where he fell through a solid object. However, he was currently unable to rationalize how that was possible. The only thing he could say was he was absolutely terrified of what it might be doing to his body, and what his friends might think if they happened to be unlucky enough to ever get to see it. That was why he had not contacted them in over a week.

He ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. No matter how much he tried to wrap his head around it, there was just too much he didn't know which prevented him from piecing everything together. Although he was definitely hesitant about contacting them, his friends, but talking to them over the phone would definitely help calm the chaotic storm in his mind, even if they couldn't contribute anything thing.

After glancing at his watch, he realized that Winston was probably going to be expecting him back home soon. As he got up off the bench, he inadvertently shuddered after a strange, almost breeze-like chill caressed his body which was almost immediately replaced by the feeling of being watched. "H-hello…?" he stammered, hoping that it was just his imagination. The last thing he needed at the moment was a repeat of what happened the last time he experienced this feeling.

"Okay… You're losing it," he told himself when nothing answered him. "There's nothing here except you and some dead people… Nothing to worry about… unless Amity Park has suddenly become Pittsburgh…"

"Zombies… How amusing. It always astounds me how the mind of a teenager can jump to such things."

Danny felt himself grow rigid as a sick sort of recognition ran through him. There was no way he could forget the sound of that voice, not after the terror he felt the last time he heard it. The chilling yet oddly sophisticated tone told him that whatever was speaking was definitely the very same creature he had encountered last time.

"W-who… what are you…?" he asked it, hoping he could possibly keep it occupied long enough for him to magically figure out a way to make an escape. The only problem was that he had this sinking suspicion it was smarter than him.

A strange and unnerving chuckle answered him. "I take it that you've heard of ghosts before, my boy?"

"So… you're telling me that you're a ghost…?" he asked slowly while he tried to figure out what was creepier: a disembodied voice talking about ghosts or it calling him 'my boy'.

"And you got it right on the first guess. I must say that I'm impressed."

His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out where it might be. Sure he was definitely scared of it, but currently the anger at it actually questioning his intelligence was currently overriding his fear. "Are you just here to annoy me?" he snapped. "If so, you're really doing a good job."

"Oh, I assure you that I have more important things to do than to wound the pride of an adolescent," it told him with a flourish before its tone became one of hunger. "I'm here to take you away from this world."

He slowly began to back up. Its voice had originally had sounded like it was coming from terrace boundary, now seemed like it was coming from right in front of him. And, it definitely felt as if something was standing only a few feet away from him, even if he couldn't see it.

"Are you afraid?" it asked him it an amused tone. "You really shouldn't be. Daniel, you don't belong in this world. You never have."

"Wh-what do you mean?" The fear was present in his voice now, and there was nothing that he could do to attempt to hide it. He backed up until he felt tree bark pressing into his skin. Whatever this thing was, it had managed to corner him.

He glanced around desperately, hoping there was something he could do. However, his attempts stopped when he realized a figure was slowly starting to materialize out of the air. He could tell it was humanoid in shape, but the features were still too burry to make out.

Once again, the voice, which seemed to be coming from the slowly emerging figure, chuckled. "Oh come now Daniel, haven't you realized that you feel more comfortable among the dead than the living?" Apparently, it took the confused look on his face as a confirmation as it continued. "I've watched you for a while now. I know that you come here because it seems to call to you. It's the only place where you can connect with the other side, whether you realize it or not."

His focus turned away from the conversation as he noticed that the figure appeared to be reaching out for him. He batted the hand away, surprised when he felt the resistance of another person. With the realization there was something physical there, he tried to further push himself away from it, but instead of finding the resistance of the tree, it felt like he was suddenly stumbling through a wall of water. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the ground facing the opposite side of the tree.

"Good… It looks like your powers are developing quite nicely." The creature's voice now seemed to contain a dark interest as it again moved closer, undeterred by what had happened. It's form, though still hazy, was now visible enough for Danny to clearly identify it as having more of a male build. "Though, they're still tied to your emotions, which won't do you much good at the moment."

"P-powers?" he almost choked as he tried scooting away from it, ignoring the fact that he now had a chance to run. "What are you talking about?"

"So Winston really hasn't told you anything. It's such a shame." For a moment it appeared that it would say something else, but tilted its head as if it was listening to something. "Your friends have remarkable timing," it told him in a tone that clearly expressed that it was not happy about the intrusion.

He had no idea what it meant until he heard a faint voice calling his name. "Sam?" he shouted back in a surprised terror. "Don't come closer! Get out of here!"

"DANNY?" Her voice sounded closer.

The creature chucked yet again. "Oh, don't worry, I can wait a little longer before I claim you. Just be prepared." The voice seemed to fade away along with the pale outline of whatever it really was.

As soon as he felt like the creature was truly gone, he breathed deeply in relief only to jump at the sounds of Sam finally reaching him. He had just enough time to look up at her before one of his arms decided that it no longer cared for the rigidity of the ground and sank right through it before getting stuck.

…

"So… where's Tucker…?" he asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation after he and Sam rather awkwardly started back towards the entrance. It was definitely a risk for him to speak as his stomach started to turn against him, which apparently was going to happen every time something weird happened. But, knowing that he had frightened one of his only friends was enough to get him to try.

She was silent for a moment before she spoke, making sure that she did not glance at him. "He's waiting near the entrance… He said that he was too frightened to go any further than that."

"Oh…"

He bit his lip as he tried to figure out something else to say. Sam had managed to handle seeing him try to free his foot from a floor quite well, but apparently watching how it had happened was a little too much for her. He wished that there was something that he could say that would help, but what could he say when he didn't even understand what was happening?

"Um… Danny…" He glanced over at her only to realize that she had stopped a few feet behind him. She was uncharacteristically playing with the hem of her skirt before she looked up at him with blazing eyes. "What's going on? Now I'm all for the weird and freaky, but even this is starting to get too weird, even for me!"

"Sam…" Before he could really say anything, she interrupted him.

"If you want me and Tucker to continue to be your friends, you've got to start explaining things! This is the second time that I've seen some part of your body get stuck into something solid. That's not normal no matter how you look at it! What are you? What was that thing? What's going on?"

"Do you think I know?" he snapped at her, causing her to stop her rant and stare at him. "If I knew what is happening to me, don't you think I would have said something after Tucker fainted?" Getting irritated was definitely not the best idea since his stomach decided to forcefully remind him that it was already upset with him. In an attempt to keep everything under control, he sat on the ground while resting his head on his knees. This illness thing was really starting to get on his nerves.

A hesitant touch caused him to glance up. Although it was very clear that she still felt uncomfortable, Sam had decided to come over and gently run his back in a somewhat apologetic attempt to make him feel better. "I'll wait until we get out of here before I ask anything else. You need time to feel better, and Tucker'll mentally need to prepare himself. I swear he can be so cowardly sometimes."

…

As he watched his friend try to find ways to rationalize what he was told of what had occurred in the graveyard, he grimly decided he would rather deal with attempting to escape from that creature… or ghost, if that's what it really was, than dealing with Tucker's spastic response to his fears. After meeting up with him at the entrance of the graveyard, they had relocated to Tucker's house to talk things over.

"So, you're telling me that this thing told you that not only do you not belong in 'this world' but that it was going to take you away too?" Tucker asked as he adjusted his glasses. "What's to say that it's not going to come after you while we're around?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," he sighed, for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "From what I understand, it could have very easily have taken me away earlier today, but instead it decided to leave when Sam appeared. It doesn't make much sense to me either, but I guess it would rather take me when there was no one around to watch…"

"But why?" Sam's tone made it clear that she held a great deal of skepticism about the motives of the creature. "I mean… I was the only other person around earlier, and it had plenty of time to take you and run, or fly, or whatever… you know what I mean… before I even managed to get a good look at either of you. There's just something that doesn't feel right about it."

Although Danny hadn't thought about it before, she had made a very valid point. That thing could have done anything it wanted with him, yet it decided to leave him alone again. There really seemed to be no logical reason for it. Well, no logical reason that he could come up with. For some reason, it just felt like it was somehow playing a game with him.

"Wait a minute, Sam! You actually saw this thing?" Tucker demanded, completely ignoring everything else that she had said. "What did it look like?"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow for a moment before she spoke. "Why do you want to know? I thought that you were afraid of this thing…"

"I am, but I'd like to know what my doom looks like so that I have a better chance to be prepared."

"Tucker, we're dealing with something that's calling itself a ghost, meaning that it can become invisible. How is that going to help?"

For a second, he thought that the word 'ghost' was going to cause Tucker to go into another set of hysterics, but instead he smile rather broadly. "Well, if that's the case, than I guess I don't need to worry all that much."

"Wait a minute, you've been scared of this thing for two weeks and now it's suddenly fine? What's going on?" Danny asked after he shared a very confused glance with Sam.

Tucker gave them a rather surprised look before he started to look up something on his PDA. After mere seconds, he shoved it towards them so that they could get a glance at the article he pulled up. "I'm actually surprised that you haven't heard about this Sam, especially because of how interested you are in all things dark and creepy, but if that thing really is a ghost, then it's not going to leave its haunt."

"Wait, that's right!" Sam exclaimed after handing the PDA back to Tucker. "Ghosts tend to haunt places that have some sort of significance to them, and they're never seen anywhere else. So if that thing's haunt is the cemetery, then…"

"It's going to stay there…?" Danny asked with a little bit of uncertainty.

"EXACTLY!" Tucker nodded to himself, pleased that everyone now seemed to be on the same page. "That means that I don't have to worry about it. But… just in case… what did it look like?"

He just shook his head. "I… I'm not entirely sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"Um… well, it was almost like it was slowly coming into focus the whole time it was talking to me, and I was more focused on trying to escape than anything else…."

"You had to have seen something?"

The desperation in Tucker's voice made him try to revisit the encounter to see if anything in particular decided to stick out at him. "It… was about the size of a normal man," he said slowly after a moment, "and was wearing black gloves."

"And it had a cape," Sam added.

"It had a cape?" both he and Tucker asked rather incredulously.

She nodded. "That's really the only thing that I know I saw."

"Wait, you're telling me that this thing thinks that it's some sort of demonic superhero?" Tucker practically demanded.

"How should I know what it thinks? And what makes you say that?"

After that simple question, the three of them managed to somehow get into a rather complicated debate about the various superhero universes. Although it was completely off topic, it was definitely a very welcome distraction from the earlier events of the day.

Although he kept trying to push it from his mind, there was something that nagging him about the encounter. Sure, Tucker might be convinced that the self-proclaimed-ghost would not appear anywhere else other than the cemetery, but he wasn't as sure. All of the ghost stories he had heard had taught him that ghosts were not able to hurt the living, yet he was absolutely certain that if it had wanted to, it could have easily have killed him or Sam. Assuming that it had that sort of power made him wonder if it could throw the other 'rules' out of the window too.

The only problem was that he didn't have the necessary information about it though. Hopefully, he would never get a chance to learn it, but something told him that he wouldn't be that lucky. The only thing he could do was wait and see what happened in the upcoming days.

=================================================================== Okay, there's a few notes for this chapter:

1) Story timeline rundown: Ch.1 Sat Ch.2 Sat night Ch. 3 Sun Ch. 4 Wed afternoon Ch. 5 Wed afternoon Ch. 6 Wed night Ch. 7 Sun (two weeks after chapter 3)

The story starts in the 2nd week of September (the year is rather unnecessary to know). The reason is that this is what came to mind when I first started working on this, and that I have absolutely no idea when Danny's actual birth date (if there is an official one) really is.

If you don't get the Pittsburgh reference, it's okay. Pittsburgh's often called the zombie capital of the world because of how many zombie films have been made there.

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

Disability Sci-Fi: Alternate Universe Theo

Finally continuing my Disabled Sci-Fi series. Here’s one about Theo, an amputee who gets sent into an alternate reality by a meddlesome young witch. Enjoy! I’d love to hear what you think.

***

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that the window isn’t in the right spot in his room.

The second thing he notices, as he swings himself to the edge of the bed and looks for his forearm crutches, is that he has two legs.

And then he freezes. For a solid three minutes. 

When Theo went to bed, it was in a small bedroom in a shoebox apartment he shared with his boyfriend in Pittsburgh. The walls were beige, not this clean white. Their bed was nestled beside the room’s one window, the only place it could logically go. 

And he had one leg, courtesy of an accident that occurred a few years before. 

This morning, everything felt wrong. He stood up, unaided--a feeling that was odd but that he vaguely remembered--and approached the window that was in the wrong place. He recognized the view from the one time he’d been there on a college tour. 

Harvard. He was in a dorm at Harvard. Once upon his time, this was his dream school. 

Then the accident happened, his mental health went to shit, and he decided to stay closer to home where his family could support him better. Ultimately, it had worked out. He’d taken a year off after high school, went to University of Pittsburgh, met Xavier, came out to his parents. 

So what the hell was this? Some kind of lucid dream?

He grabbed his phone from the side table and opened up Contacts, looking for Xavier’s name.

It wasn’t there.

Theo dialed the number he’d memorized months ago, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Something… weird is going on. Where are you right now?” Theo paced as he talked, an old nervous habit that kept reminding him of his two feet on the floor.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

He shook his head. Xavier was always full of jokes, but now was not the time. This weird alternate-life dorm room was freaking him out. “Don’t be a smartass. It’s Theo.”

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know a Theo. You must have the wrong number.” Click. Call ended.

Theo stared at his phone. What the hell was going on? It’s like he’d woken up in a different version of his life, one that didn’t belong to him.

He didn’t know what else to do. He dialed Mom. She should be the same no matter what, right?

“Hi honey, what’s up?”

“Mom,” he breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was right. “The weirdest thing has happened. I woke up at Harvard, and my leg--”

“Oh, Theo. Slow down. This must be one of your panic attacks. Do you have your medication?”

Panic attacks were something he’d struggled with since the accident in his world, too. That happened when you were suddenly hit by a car, and the car drove away as you bled onto the blacktop. 

“But mom, the car accident--”

“Just breathe, Theo. It’s over now, remember? The doctor said it was amazing you only needed stitches.”

His mom was still talking, but he set the phone on the bed. He drew up his shorts to look at the spot above his knee where his leg was supposed to be amputated.

There was just a scar, fairly faded, a few inches long. 

He picked the phone back up, and found his mother still rambling. “Honey, why don’t you take a clonazepam and take the day off from classes? You’ll feel much better after some rest.” 

Clearly, she was not going to be much help in the “what the hell is going on” department. So he just said, “Okay, I’ll do that,” tolerated a few more reassuring comments, and then finally hung up.

Left without any other ideas, Theo got dressed and left his room to go wander around campus. He didn’t know what classes he was supposedly attending or who his friends here supposedly were, but it didn’t matter. He was looking for something, anything to tell him why he was suddenly here, in this life. 

Could that other life have just been a really detailed dream--and the accident caused just a mild, now-healed injury? But why couldn’t he remember anything about this place? Why didn’t it feel like his? He pinched his arm experimentally, but no magical awakening happened.

He found himself missing the muffled clacking sound of crutches that usually accompanied him as he walked. Who was he if he wasn’t Theo, the amputee? The anxious U of P student dreaming of vet school? Xavier’s boyfriend?

This was all wrong.

He was wandering uneasily down one of the paths when someone caught his eye. A girl with purple hair and piercings who had a mischievous, observant air about her. Not exactly Harvard’s type.

And he remembered her. Not her name, but her face. 

He’d met her yesterday. The real yesterday, in his world, which he was now certain existed.

He all but ran up to the picnic table where she lounged carelessly. He found himself wordless, but she simply quirked an eyebrow at him and said, “What’s up, champ?”

“Sorry, I’m, uh, having a bit of a weird day. But… do we know each other?”

She smirked knowingly, but said, “I don’t actually know a lot of Harvard boys.”

“Yeah, see, the thing is, I’m not…” He ran his hands through his hair, trying to figure out how to sound even relatively normal. In the end, he decided not to bother trying. “This is going to sound crazy. I think I met you yesterday, but… somewhere else. I was in Pittsburgh, and I lived there, and my life was different…” 

She stared at him a while, letting him think for a few minutes that he truly was crazy. Still somewhat amused, she finally admitted, “I remember you. I... may have come here to visit you today. To… check on my handiwork.”

“Your what?”

She hesitated a moment, then sighed. “Okay. See, like, I’m part of this... witches’ coven. Not, like, brooms and cauldrons and shit, but like, real spells and magic. And I’ve been wanting to practice this one spell I found, but my sisters told me not to, and you can’t just go around telling people you’re a witch and asking if they want a spell… so I just sort of picked someone. And it was you.”

So much for being sure of things again. Theo blinked. Several times. Took a few breaths. Found some words. “So,” he ventured, “Let’s just pretend for a second that magic is real and I’m not having a fever dream right now.”

“Sure.” She leaned back against the wooden table, as if this was an average day for her. 

“You… made this happen? Put me in this alternate life? But why?”

“Yes. And, honestly... I had to find someone the spell would work on. It involved finding a pivot point in someone’s life--a point that could have gone one way or the other, like, deciding whether or not to take a job, have a kid, or spontaneous accidents--and making it flip the other way. The overall world stays the same, but the ripple effect of the pivot-point moment is applied and the person’s world changes.”

He just stared at her.

“We have the ability to sort of… read people. So I saw you, struggling to carry a bunch of shit down the street with your crutches, and I got your vibe. A bit of your history. Bad accident, took your leg, now it’s mighty inconvenient for you. So I wondered if I could just… flip the pivot point and see if it fixed you.” She shrugged. 

“You didn’t fix anything, you crazy… witch,” he finished lamely, struggling for a more accurate word. “My whole life is wrong now. I’m at the wrong school, away from my family, my boyfriend doesn’t even know me…” 

“But you’ve got your leg, yeah?” She stood up from the table, as if she was satisfied with this conversation and ready to move elsewhere. She had a new excitement flowing through her expression. “So it worked! I can’t believe I did it.”

“You. Are not. Hearing me. I didn’t ask you to do this. I didn’t ask for my leg back. I want my life back, the way it was.” 

“Look, even if I could… it would take some time. Recharge my magic batteries or whatever. Find my focus for the spell. It’s not like I can just snap my fingers. Can’t you just stay here? I mean, shit, you’re at Harvard, and healed, for one.” 

“Being able-bodied is not a replacement for a happy life that I already had.” He shook his head. “Why can’t people understand that not every disabled person is inherently miserable?”

It seems to sink in, because the purple-haired girl is starting to appear guilty. “I mean, you looked pretty miserable carrying those bags down the street. I just thought--”

“I know. You looked at me and thought, what a poor crippled soul, he must have a terrible life just because he’s struggling with grocery bags for a few minutes. Right?” Theo didn’t think of himself as intimidating, but his anger made him bigger, somehow, as he loomed over the girl. Theo thought of Xavier, of their crappy little apartment and long nights spent studying for pre-vet program exams. And he wanted it back. Needed it. 

“I mean--” she started.

He cut her off. “I need you to undo this. Today.”

She was breathing quickly. She took a step back from him. “The best I can do is tonight. Six hours or so. We’ll meet back here.” She bit her lip nervously. 

“You better not be messing with me.” 

“No, I swear,” she said. “I’m really sorry. It was stupid of me to try the spell without your permission.” She paced a bit. “I’ll undo it. I just need a little time.”

***

Theo spent the rest of the day wandering around the campus, poking around a little out of curiosity to see what this Alternate-Theo’s life was like. He was sure about wanting things to go back, but he had time to fill, and when did anyone else get an opportunity to see what their life could have been like? 

He managed to find the way back to his dorm, following a peer through the locked door and stairwell. He eventually found the door number he remembered, 410, and pushed open the door he’d left unlocked in his earlier frenzy. 

The room was a single, so no roommate. Everything in here belonged to this Theo. 

He poked through some papers and textbooks. It looked like he was pre-med, and making decent grades--that was his old dream, of becoming a doctor for people, not animals. But after the accident, he’d wanted to spend as little time in hospitals and doctors’ offices as possible, and found comfort in his pets. The solution seemed obvious, once his anxiety went down and he was clear-headed enough to see it.

He scrolled through his phone. A couple casual texts to friends about homework and such. No boyfriend or even super close friends, it seemed. There were some texts and calls to his parents--one text from his mom said Meet any nice girls lately? ;). So he hadn’t even come out to his parents yet? What about his so-called “friends” here? To Theo, it looked like this life was pretty lonely. 

This whole snooping process took up several hours, and he spent the next few eating snacks he found in his room, pacing the Harvard grounds hoping the witch-girl would return sooner, and, briefly, taking a run. It wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined it would be on the rare occasions he did miss his leg.

Finally, as the day grew cooler and a little darker, the purple-haired girl approached him where he sat at the same picnic table he’d found her at earlier.

“I think I’m all set.” She sat down next to Theo with the same nonchalance she had earlier. “I just need a minute to get relaxed and settled here. Are you sure you still want to undo this?”

“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation. 

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, breathing evenly. She held a few objects in her hands he couldn’t see. 

“Am I going to rememb--?”

“Shh. Trying to focus here. And to answer your question, I don’t know. Now be quiet.”

***

Theo woke up in a tiny beige bedroom in a shoebox apartment in Pittsburgh. Beside him, the sheets were ruffled; typical for Xavier to get up early for rowing practice. Leaning against the wall by the bed were a pair of forearm crutches. 

A sticky note in Xavier’s messy scrawl was on the side table next to the bed. See you for lunch? I’ll text you. Love you. -X

Theo held onto the note and let himself fall back into the pillow with ease. He did remember the crazy alternate-life day he had, but couldn’t entirely be sure whether it was a dream or not. 

But he could relax and be happy now. He was back where he belonged.

[habsfans98]

Thoughts on the Montreal Canadiens 2020 season/playoffs

So... That  was certainly a ending to a season wasn’t it.

I don’t really have any words to describe how I feel right now. Simply because it feels like the habs played two different seasons? 

Th regular season was a shit storm, that felt like it was never going to end with the frustration with this habs squad. From the lack of scoring, to the defense that looked dreadful for most of the season, Carey Price looking hurt and pedestrian, and the two eight game losing streaks. 

I was expecting another season without playoffs, and more anger at the suits in the Montreal Canadiens organization. 

Then Covid-19 happened. 

The sports stopped. Life stopped. And for five or so months... I wasn’t frustrated with the habs anymore. 

When I heard that the habs made it in as the 24 team. I was happy. Then I saw we matched up against Pittsburgh. My first thought: 

“Well that was nice while it lasted.” 

I had zero expectations for the habs beating Pittsburgh. Even with a health Carey Price and Weber. Pittsburgh also got health and was ready with a superior team of Stanley cup champions. 

Then the habs won. 

They managed to prove me wrong completely. Beating Pittsburgh in 3-1 in the best of five series to get into the regular playoffs. 

It was the first time, in a long time. That the habs made me happy to support them again. 

Yet, when I heard are opponents where the Philadelphia... 

I knew are luck would run out. 

The amazing, solidish play that won the habs the day, against Pittsburgh. Would not work against Philly. 

Philadelphia wasn’t going to underachieve. And for most of the series; they didn’t. 

Philadelphia didn’t dominate all the time in retrospect. Yet, they played a much more solid defensive came, with key scoring from skilled forward, and one major factor that one them the series. 

Carter Hart. 

Hart was the stare of the series for the Flyers. And for most of this series. He out dueled Carey Price both in skill, and luck. 

And so. The Philadelphia moves on. Meanwhile the Canadiens are left with what to do next. 

[artificialqueens]

All I’ve Got To Keep Myself Sane, 1/8 (Jackie/Widow) - Juno

Summary: Jackie and Widow both only know three things for certain.

1: they’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours. 2: they’re each running from something. 3: they’re both destined for Atlantic City.

But neither knows why the other is headed there.

Chapter Summary: Jackie and Widow begin a trip to New Jersey. Even though they’ve only just met, in Pittsburgh.

CW: catcalling, threat of assault

A/N: Hi, I’m Juno and I’m here to bring more slow-burn angsty stuff (Although there will be no ghosts in this fic, honest!). As I will switch POVs between chapters, I’ll add a POV at the start. I hope you enjoy part one.

Jackie

Jackie sighed with relief at the sight of the gas station. It was the first one she had found after leaving the suburbs around Pittsburgh, joining Route 76. She’d glanced at her tank and seen it almost empty, expired from the long drive down here, and resolved to just find somewhere, anywhere nearby to fill up.

She’d never even been to Pittsburgh before this morning.

And she’d already resolved never to return.

Jackie pulled into the gas station, her mind still whirling from her morning, her chest still aching from her tears; but a grim detachment settling into her mind, overtaking her thoughts as she fought to stifle them.

She just had to function – just function – now, for another six hours or so, until she reached Atlantic City.

It was midday, the sun in the September sky burning her skin through the window that she insisted on having rolled up to keep flies out of the car; and now again on the tarmac as she filled up her car. Summer was extending into autumn months, and the clammy, humid air was already unbearable.

Once she’d filled her tank, she dodged the Chevy pulling into the other lane to head into the station to pay. She debated picking up a newspaper, but declined. The orange and blue of the newspaper stands were giving her a bigger headache than she already felt from spending the last hour crying in the Wal-Mart car park.

The teenager behind the counter wore uniform in similar garish colours to the newspaper stand – orange button-up shirt with the shop logo and a navy skirt with pleats. She blew a bubble with her gum as she counted Jackie her change from the gas and bottle of water she bought. Jackie hesitated before reaching across for a sandwich as well, while the assistant rolled her eyes and re-counted the change.

Outside at her car, Jackie looked at the wad of notes she’d taken out of the ATM a little earlier. The cash in her wallet would keep her going to Atlantic City. She probably only needed one more rest stop, one more gas stop. Then it would be her and the ocean.

She was unlocking her car when she heard the voice.

“Hey, baby. Goin’ so soon?”

A gruff, older man’s voice, husky from at least twenty years of a twenty-a-day habit, came from behind her.

And it was not the day for it.

Jackie spun on her heels to tell this jerk where to go, but then she realised that he wasn’t talking to her.

“What’s the hurry, sugar?”

The man at the other pump with the Chevy had abandoned his car, and was cornering a short twenty-something woman who stood against the wall of the gas station. She wore the same uniform to the teenager inside, having evidently just finished a shift, and a large backpack was slung over one shoulder. She had frozen, keeping her unblinking eyes locked on this man, giving no emotion away in her expression.

“Come on, I ain’t gonna bite you, why don’t you come for a ride with me?”

There was no one else here but Jackie and this man. The teenager inside was looking down at her phone, ignoring everything outside.

The woman moved sideways to try to escape, but the man darted to block her, and she froze once again, terror creeping into her eyes.

“Stop it!” She managed to say, but he ignored her.

“Playin’ hard to get?” He giggled, a surprisingly high-pitched noise compared to the gruffness of his voice.

She shrank back, holding her hands up, but he still reached for her –

Jackie felt white-hot anger rise in her chest.

“Hey – hey!”

She wasn’t sure what she would do even as she called out, but as she started marching towards them, an idea sprang to her mind.

“Hey – Chelsea!”

The man turned to face Jackie now, looking more than a little confounded, but she ignored him completely and went straight to the woman, gathering her into a hug. The woman smelled faintly of tobacco and coconut, and after a second, she raised a tentative hand to wrap around Jackie’s back.

“Chelsea! I’m so glad I saw you! We should hang out! Come on I’ll give you a ride home.”

Jackie’s mouth was level with the woman’s ear, thanks to her hug. Jackie hissed to her, “Come on, I’ll get you away from him if you want!”

“Oh, sure, thanks … Sarah,” the woman – the supposed Chelsea – muttered, catching on, and Jackie led her away. Jackie’s gamble – that the man might not take on more than one person at once – paid off; he stood behind them, speechless, just watching them go without another word.

Her body shaking with the adrenaline that was pulsing through her, Jackie scarcely believed what had just happened. She opened the door to her car, while the woman opened the door to the passenger seat silently and got in, putting her rucksack at her feet.

They sat for a few moments, speechless.

Jackie slowly turned her head to this woman to take her in, but she was staring blankly in front of her, taking deep breaths, holding tightly to the door handle.

Jackie had no idea what to do now.

“So, uhm,” Jackie said eventually, licking her lips, “if you want, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks; just – just drive straight.” Her passenger pointed ahead, Jackie noticing her tattoos, from back of her hand, up her forearm and into the orange sleeve of her uniform.

Jackie put her car in gear, started the engine, and purred out of the gas station. She chanced a glance in the mirror, to see that the man with the Chevy had given up and wandered inside to pay for his gas. He wouldn’t be bothering them again.

The woman next to her didn’t speak at all, still staring out the front window. Her dark eyes were wide, fixed and staring. She still didn’t even turn to glance at Jackie, still clinging to the handle of the door with her right hand, her left twisting on the strap of her bag.

Jackie wound her way down Route 76 for ten minutes or so, unsure where the silence would end. With growing dread, she realised that they were leaving the outskirts of Pittsburgh now and going into open highway, and her passenger was still frozen in place.

Eventually, Jackie turned off into the town of Donegal (“Welcome to Donegal, population 147”), pulled into the parking lay-by, turning off the engine.

“Where do you live then?” She asked.

Her passenger took a deep breath, before breathing out a confession. “I don’t. Well, not anymore.”

She still didn’t look at Jackie as she spoke, her eyes dropping to her hands, turning a thread on her shirt over and over in one finger.

Jackie couldn’t quite take it in. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have a home any more.”

Her voice was flat, devoid of any feeling, so cold that Jackie felt a shiver, despite the heat.

“Where am I meant to take you then?” Jackie asked, exasperated.

The woman next to her looked down at her hands, fingers twisting round a thread on her shirt. “This is going to sound crazy, but I have to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” Jackie muttered.

Finally the woman met her eyes. “Are you going to Atlantic City? New Jersey?”

It was Jackie’s turn to be shocked. Her heart skipped a beat. How had this woman known that?

She inhaled sharply, a buzz starting to ring in her ears.

The woman put a hand to her mouth, slowly shaking her head with wonder.

“You are!” Her hand lowered, resting on her chest, as she spluttered, lost for words. “I can’t fucking believe it. Dahlia was right.”

“What – who’s Dahlia?”

“My friend. Well, maybe not any more. But she reads Tarot.” She breathed rapidly, her hand still at her chest, unable to take her eyes off Jackie. “You – you’re really going to AC? This is fucking destiny.”

“What is? What the actual hell are you talking about?”

“That I’m meeting you! And you’re going to AC! Like where I want to go!”

Jackie felt dizzy with confusion. Had she entered the Twilight Zone? Was Pittsburgh the gate to the unknown? That would explain this whole fucking morning, that was for sure.

Finally, Jackie found her tongue.

“Who are you, too? Your name isn’t really Chelsea, is it?”

“And you name probably isn’t Sarah,” the woman replied. “I don’t know where that came from honestly.”

“It’s alright – I’m Jackie. Jacqueline Cox, but you can call me Jackie.” Jackie cringed as her business voice came out of her, as it sometimes did with people she didn’t know. She was so used to speaking in a business voice at work, it sometimes felt automatic out of work too.

“Okay Jackie.” Her passenger chanced a small smile. “I am …” she paused. “I am the Widow Von’Du.”

Jackie blinked. “The who?”

“The Widow Von’Du. Or just Widow is fine.”

“You’re a widow?”

“Nah, it’s just a name everyone calls me. And I like it.” She tilted her head to the side. “So, Jackie. You’re going to Atlantic City.”

“I – yes, I am, but …”

But what?

But she wasn’t sure why anymore?

But she wasn’t sure if she should just abandon the whole trip, just head back to New York, pick up the shattered pieces of her life, try to carry on?

But … but Atlantic City might end up being the end of the line?

Jackie hurriedly pushed that thought away.

Widow cackled, seeming not to notice Jackie’s turmoil. “I can’t believe it!”

“Can’t believe what?”

“Jackie, I’m gonna ask you something crazy. Well,” she corrected herself, “something elsecrazy. Would you consider giving me a ride to AC?”

“I –“

“I got money for gas and shit.” Widow pulled some bills out of her pocket and counted them when Jackie hesitated. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty; there – a hundred. A hundred bucks to take Widow to AC. I was going to head into Pittsburgh and look for a bus there, anyway. That’s why I took the cash out earlier. I wanted to get a bus ticket.”

Jackie had never come across someone as forward. She’d met this girl fifteen minutes ago! Where had this come from?

“Hell, you don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want,” Widow continued, seeing Jackie’s hesitation.

“That’s not what I meant –“

But Jackie was losing grip of anything that she did mean. It felt like she meant very little right now.

“Why Atlantic City, anyway?” Jackie asked finally.

“My friend Crystal lives there. She’ll let me stay.” Widow nodded as if trying to convince herself. “Why are you going to AC? You don’t sound like a Jersey girl.”

“I’m not. I’m – going to see my grandma.”

“Your grandma?” Widow perked an eyebrow, gazing at Jackie for a few seconds longer than she had expected before nodding. “Alright. Your grandma.”

“You don’t sound like a Pittsburgh native either,” Jackie said loudly, trying desperately to veer the conversation in another direction. “And you decided to go to Atlantic City? Three hundred miles away?”

Widow shrugged. “Sure. Why the hell not? Change of scenery. And Crystal’s housemates are cool.”

Widow held her gaze, and something in her eyes was sincere. Jackie didn’t understand quite why, but she didn’t feel as unnerved as she had earlier, and Widow seemed to trust her enough to do it. And she’d laid down cold, hard cash into Jackie’s hand. She was serious about going.

Jackie’s mind started to reason with the idea. Atlantic City was the end of the line, anyway.

But – but this was crazy!

Is it any more crazy than anything else I’ve done today?

“Alright,” Jackie sighed. “Atlantic City, here we come.”

“And I’ll put on some tunes,” Widow declared, pulling out her phone and bringing up Spotify. “You like your driving music to be relaxed or energised?”

“Uhm, relaxed.”

“I’m putting on Lizzo then,” Widow said, plugging her jack into Jackie’s car stereo.

——

Widow promptly fell asleep, only halfway through Truth Hurts.

Jackie reached to the volume control for the radio and turned it from eighteen to six. That was about right for this kind of day. Plus, she’d asked for relaxed, and had gotten something more energetic than she could have imagined. God only knew what Widow would have turned to if she’d asked for energetic music.

In sleep, Widow was serenely beautiful. Jackie chanced a glance at her, a bronze glow across her cheekbones, her halo of corkscrew coils dancing delicately around her face from the gentle breeze through the window, the ombré colour golden in the sunlight. This calm made a stark contrast to the intensity of her own shock, followed by the intensity of her own earnest need to escape from this town. All the heightened emotion must have tired her out. Jackie tried to drive as calmly as possible, to let her sleep.

But lowering the volume of the music just let the sounds and the feelings Jackie had been repressing all morning, since she’d left Pittsburgh, flood into her; like the parted sea crashing back into place. She fought against the tide of her thoughts, but they seemed determined to drown her.

Jackie usually wasn’t one for making a spontaneous decision; but the rest of her life was spiralling out of control. Pittsburgh seemed to be the only place there was anything left to her. Work sucked, her friends sucked, even her mom was getting in on the action. This snowball of events had caused her to get in her car at midnight and come down here. She’d slept three hours, tops, curled in the backseat of her Honda, in a Wal-Mart car park.

This had been her last bastion, the only refuge that she had had left. One last string to keep her tied to sanity.

Now that too was cruelly cut in two, letting her drop into this black hole. This vast empty chasm.

She was spurred on now only by grim apathy.

Beside her, Widow was whimpering softly, getting louder. Her calm in sleep had given way to restlessness, and she twisted her body, whining on occasion, noises that pulled Jackie’s heartstrings. It was agonising to listen to. But eventually Widow settled again, back to just gentle snores.

The landscape was becoming dramatic, small peaks appearing on the landscape; not the tall majestic peaks Jackie was used to Canada, but a welcome sight nonetheless.

She remembered her old friend Morgan telling her that in Scotland, mounts were given different names depending on their height. Donalds, Grahams, Corbetts, and Munros. Jackie couldn’t remember which name associated with which height, but Morgan was in Vegas, and Jackie hadn’t spoken to her in years, with no reason to reconnect with her to check something so futile.

It didn’t really matter, anyway.

She stopped the car at a campsite and mill just short of the Tuscarora forest. Parking up, Jackie stepped out of the car and inhaled deeply, trying to dislodge the knot that had formed in her lungs ever since she’d reached Pittsburgh, but it stuck in her throat, refusing to unwind.

Around her, the dark green of the fir trees was dense, and the air fresh and crisp, cooler than what they had left behind. Behind the trees were more peaks, the sunlight upon them throwing them into shades of grey and white, blue and yellow. The humidity of the city had faded to a dreamy haze that surrounded Jackie, making her feel sleepy and comfortable.

“We here already?” Widow was stepping out the car, and put her hands on her hips, turning a full circle. “Where’s the strip?”

“It’s not Atlantic City yet.”

Widow leaned on the car roof, raising both her eyebrows and smirking. “You think I didn’t guess that?”

“I needed a break. And a pee.”

“Huh. Thanks for sharing.”

Jackie walked away from Widow, glancing back only when she reached the building, turning to watch Widow lighting a cigarette and pulling something from her bag, meandering away from the car to sit at one of the picnic tables.

What have I gotten myself into?

[clairecrive]

Saw your post about Tommy Conlon! What about Tommy x reader about how Tommy feels around a woman that loves him after everything that happened to him? Maybe reader is a kinda shy too? Or maybe smth about how they start dating? I'm just so soft for Tommy omg

Omg yes. Hi, anon! First of all, thank you so much for your request. Second of all, I totally am too, he deserves to be smothered with love. Period. 

Tbh, when I try to imagine something about him and a potential love interest I feel like it would take ages to even talk to him, let alone let him open up to someone. I think it would be a long process, but tbh my mind has been filled with ideas since I saw your ask and I’m dying to give it a try. However, this is the first time that I write about Tommy so pls bear with me.

I’m totally going to do one about how he deals with the reader’s presence in his life and her affection for him even in his toughest moment(maybe she’s there during Sparta or they meet afterwards? don’t know yet), so let’s consider this one as a prequel for that. Just to understand the context.

(continues under the cut) 

When anyone referred to the “American Dream” no one’s mind imagined them in Pittsburgh. That’s a fact.

But what point is there to dream about the “Big Apple” or the sunny L.A. when you couldn’t afford it? Pittsburgh was the only option given that a part of your family lived here and deeply you were grateful for the opportunity of leaving “il bel paese” for a while. 

Although it was hard to start fresh in a place where you didn’t know anyone, you actually found out soon enough that the total anonymity that came with moving to a new place suited you quite well. After the first few months spent on enrolling into looking for a job that matched your qualifications and eventually settling for a job that paid the bills when you didn’t find any, you had mastered a beautiful routine.

You would get up bright and early no matter how much you wanted to sleep ‘till the end of times, after a quick breakfast you would head to the local library. When you didn’t have a shift you would still go just to set in a secluded corner of the library and read for a few hours. 

Then around lunchtime, you would bring food for you and your cousin that worked in a gym near the library. James, your cousin, is a personal trainer. Sometimes he would also coach some guys for MMA fights and work as a secretary in the spare time. Since I’ve moved here though, he offered to speak with his boss for the secretary place and thanks to James now I have also a job as a secretary.

To be honest, working in a gym attended only by guys, wasn’t as bad as you thought. They didn’t pay you much attention, other than a few words when they came in or left and some brave ones that tried to hit on you. Maybe it was because you were James’ little cousin, you weren’t sure. In any case, you were fine just being invisible.

Afternoons there were actually quite boring and uneventful, so you would usually look for jobs or read whatever book you had picked up at the library. The last one you were reading was actually so interesting and captivating that you couldn’t keep your eyes off the pages even when you were walking. 

You knew the road from the library to the gym by heart by now and it was all walking area, so no risk of being put under a car, fortunately.

So that’s exactly what you were doing when you met him the first time: nose buried in the pages of the book not really paying attention to your surroundings. If your calculations were correct you were almost outside of the gym. It turned out that you were almost correct and a door in your face told you that you were in fact right outside the gym.

Needless to say, the impact made your book violently hit your face making you lose your balance and almost hit the floor. Yes, almost, because Tommy’s hands prevented you from making a fool of yourself. Well at that time you didn’t know his name was Tommy, to be honest.

“You should be more about where you’re going.” His voice was almost rude like you had made him do something that he would rather avoid. Of course, at that moment your shyness only allowed you to mutter an apology and blush from the embarrassment. And that’s what you did before quickly making your way into the gym where your cousin was waiting for you.

It wasn’t that Tommy was rude, he was just really introverted and didn’t like talking to people. A trait you had in common, you would soon find out. He was actually very well-mannered and he probably had realized that the way he had spoken to you could have made him come across as someone that he wasn’t. While he usually didn’t care about other people’s perception of him, he still thought he was in the wrong.

Mind you, he didn’t apologize. Not openly at least. The next time you saw him walking into the gym, he acknowledged your presence with a tilt of his head. It wasn’t much, for some people it could actually be seen as rude but it was the first time he “reached out to you” and you appreciated it. Besides, it was just the way he was.

So that’s the way your interactions went, on good days be would occasionally smile at you and when your shyness wasn’t getting the best of you, you actually managed to smile back. Until one day everything changed. You had to walk where the rings were to talk to James and since you’ve looked at his schedule, you knew he was coaching Tommy. You had heard something about a big tournament coming up of which you did know much but you had noticed the hype that had been in the air since then.

True to yourself, you weren’t looking around you. Your eyes were fixed on the piece of paper in your hands where you had written the client’s requests, rehearsing what you were going to say when a loud noise of a crowd cheering and punches made you look up. 

There it was, Tommy and Maddog fighting in the right. Well, it was more like Tommy that was beating the shit out of Maddog than a proper fight. 

You were relatively new to violence, so the sight shocked you. Of course, working in a gym you would hear people throwing punches and whatnot but it was different than actually witnessing it with your eyes. Besides, the feral fury with which Tommy was kicking and punching him actually scared you. 

How was he capable of such violence? Was he really that evil? Or was it just a cathartic release of unprocessed anger and hurt? 

You didn’t know his story so you didn’t want to be unfair and judge him but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t shiver and hurried to get out of his way when he stormed off the ring.

Did you actually think he could hurt you? No, but that level of anger buckled up in a young man’s body was not healthy nor safe. And you heard the news so you wouldn’t risk it. 

At that moment you didn’t think that he noticed your fear, being too hyped up for the fight. But that was something that you didn’t know about him and that you would soon start to love: Tommy was always very mindful of his surroundings and the people around him. So yes, he did notice the way you shivered in fear and the sight actually upset him. Thinking that he could be the reason for a woman’s fear just like his father was his mother’s. 

Again, he tried to make it better. Or at least started to think about a way to. 

One night, James had asked you the favour of closing up in his place. He had told you something about a girl and knowing that you certainly didn’t have any plans you agreed. Although, the moment you noticed that the only one left waa Tommy you started to regret ever saying yes. 

Again, he noticed the way you carefully approached him and he didn’t like it one bit when he noticed the nervousness in your eyes just because you had to talk to him. Maybe another guy would have been smooth about it, thinking that it was because he was half-naked and all. And maybe a little part of you was intimidated by the nakedness and the beauty of his body but the bigger part feared a violent outburst from him. 

“Uhm, sorry Tommy but I’m afraid I have to close the gym.” you weakly told him. He didn’t answer you and for a moment you wondered if had heard you at all but after throwing the last punch he nodded toward you and walked toward the changing room. Hoping he would be quick, you did everything your cousin told you to do and waited for him at your desk. Fortunately, he didn’t take long and after twenty minutes-ish he was standing next to you. 

Turning off the lights and locking the door you turned ready to make your way home when Tommy’s presence startled you. You thought that he had already walked away. 

“Oh sorry, I thought you had already gone,” you said trying to make up for the surprise on your face when you saw. Wouldn’t want him to think that his face scared you. He was actually very handsome, you noted now that you had the opportunity to look at him up close. 

“ Do you have a car?” he asked bluntly not even acknowledging your words

“Nope, I came on foot. My house isn’t that far from here,” you explained not sure if he was asking how you were going to get home or if you could give him a ride

“You can’t walk around at this time of the hour on your own, it’s dangerous.” he scolded you much to your surprise. When did you go from barely acknowledging each other to him scolding you? 

“I’m sorry but since when do you care about me? We don’t know each other.” you pointed out, your usual shyness leaving place for anger

“Come, I’ll walk you home.” he offers not bothering, again to answer you

“You do know that I don’t know you and that you’re as good as any stranger on the street right now, don’t you?” Just because you went to the same gym you worked in, doesn’t mean that he’s trustworthy. Not to mention his anger outbursts. 

“I know what you saw okay? But that has nothing to do with you. I would never hurt you.” he said sighing knowing very well that his fight with Maddog had affected you greatly. These were pretty much words that every potential rapist would say, you’re aware of that. However, that was something in his eyes and in the way that he wasn’t invading your personal space that proved he was genuine. 

“I don’t even know your name.” you weakly protest but you had pretty much caved and he knew that

“I’m Tommy. And you are?" 

"My name’s y/n, nice to meet you Tommy.” you smiled at him, accepting his offer of walking you home. 

And that was the first time of many that Tommy had walked you home and one of your very first interaction.

Part 2

[hockeylvr59]

what about... the reader being the younger sister of someone on the pens and their brother finding out shes dating crosby? maybe anger/hurt that turns into makeup/fluff

So there are only a handful of players who could have a younger sister date Sid without a massive age difference so hopefully, the one I picked is okay, lol. Minor warning for cursing. (1607 words)

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You’d known Sid since you were just a kid. That’s what happens when your brother played hockey and baseball with him at Shattuck St. Mary’s prep school. But back then you were just Jack’s little sister. And he was just your big brother’s friend who you happened to have a little crush on. 

For so many years nothing changed. You’d see Sid once or twice a year when you were spending time with your brother but you were still just the little sister. And he was still just the boy...man you had a crush on. Eventually, you gave up, insisting to yourself that anything happening was just a crazy dream and that your time was better spent trying to find an attainable man. 

And then just a few years ago you ran into Sid in Montreal. You were there for work and he was in town to see a couple friends. It was the first time you’d seen him in years, your life schedule conflicting with your brother’s. Yet, somehow he’d recognized you immediately, stopping you in the middle of the street with a friendly hug and that grin you remembered so well. He’d commented on how long it had been since he’d seen you and had asked if you had dinner plans. 

That dinner had been casual and part of you wondered if Sid only asked because of his friendship with Jack, wanting to be able to tell your brother that he’d caught up with you when it eventually came out that you’d run into each other. At the same time, the easy conversation felt like this was more than an obligation for him and when he suggested the two of you exchange numbers after, your mind spun thinking about the implications. 

The exchange of numbers meant that instead of going years without talking to Sid, now you were talking almost weekly. As Sid spent his summer traveling around to visit friends and train you met up twice more, once in Minnesota and another in LA. This time you couldn’t blame the dinners on Sid catching up with a friend’s sister because there really wasn’t anything new to catch up on. 

It wasn’t long before the new season started and Sid was back to the grind of the hockey season. Still, the two of you remained in contact and when you happened to cross paths with work travel you met up for dinner. And you weren’t sure what exactly had shifted but when you met up in Ottawa in January, Sid insisted on walking you back to your hotel and standing outside your room he’d asked if he could kiss you. 

The press of his lips against yours showed that you’d never actually gotten over your crush and the teenage girl inside of you squealed at the fact that maybe those feelings were actually requited. 

For months the pattern continued, you talked to Sid all the time, and when your paths crossed you met up. Now though instead of just a friendly dinner, it was becoming more and more clear that these were dates, dates that ended with kissing, and soon enough sex. It was as you were dressing to sneak out of Sid’s hotel room that the conversation about what this was, finally happened. By the time you’d left, the feeling of his lips against yours lingering you were officially his girlfriend...though telling your brother was out of the question. 

And it didn’t seem like hiding it would be that big of a deal. Sid only played Jack a few times a year and they were in different cities with different schedules. Plus everyone knew that you knew Sid through your brother so no one questioned your dates. Everything was going better than you ever could have expected. 

And then July rolled around. 

It was Sid that sent you the text alerting you to the news. 

Your brother signed with Pittsburgh. 

And just like that, your stomach dropped. Your next conversation with Sid made you feel like things would be okay. One perk was now you had an excuse to come to Pittsburgh more frequently. The downside...sneaking around was going to be a lot harder. Sid suggested that you just come clean to Jack….you’d been together for a few months and he didn’t see that status changing any time soon. You were both adults now who could definitely make their own decisions about their love lives. Still...you knew your brother wouldn’t be thrilled and that put just enough hesitancy in you that you refused. 

Sid wasn’t thrilled but he didn’t put up too much of a fight. So you kept dating on the down-low. You insisted that you help your brother find a house and get settled in the city but before training camp even started it was clear that keeping this secret was going to be harder than you thought. It was almost impossible to be in a room with Sid now and not be able to kiss him, to wrap your arms around his waist. 

It was hard, but yet somehow you managed. The season started and your brother was still in the dark about the true extent of your relationship with Sid. 

It was Christmas when things finally came to light. You’d gone to Jack’s for Thanksgiving but stayed in the city a day later than you were supposed to so that you had some time to spend with your boyfriend. Sid had cooked dinner at home and then surprised you with a peridot ring claiming that this way even when you were apart you would always have a reminder of him with you. It was sweet and thoughtful and you found yourself wearing the ring on your right ring finger daily. 

So when you went home for Christmas you didn’t think anything of wearing the ring. You were laughing with your mother over a glass of wine when Jack appeared in the kitchen and immediately froze. 

“What’s that on your hand?” He questioned, scowl growing on his face. 

“A ring…” You responded not sure why he was making a big deal. 

“When the fuck did you start fucking my teammate?” He then accused, your mother immediately chastising him for his language. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” You said voice measured as you tried to figure out how Jack came up with his (not so) crazy accusation. 

“Don’t play dumb sis.” Jack declared, his fists white as he gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “It wasn’t like I was sitting next to Sid when he was looking for peridot rings or anything.” Color drained from your face and Jack practically growled. “So you are fucking one of my best friends.” He gritted out. “How long?” 

It was clear that you weren’t going to be able to deny your way out of this so you sighed, fiddling with the ring on your finger. “We met back up a year and a half ago...you know that. We didn’t even kiss until January and we became official in March.” The fact that you had been hiding this for so long made Jack even angrier and you sighed. “I’m the one that wanted to keep it a secret. Because I knew you’d act like this JJ. This isn’t some fling...I really like him and he really likes me. We’re both adults that can make our own choices. If you want to be mad, be mad at me for hiding it, Sid wanted to tell you months ago. But I hope you can be happy that I found someone who treats me like a princess, like his equal. Jack didn’t respond and instead stormed out of the room. Your mother sent you a concerned glance but insisted that your father would handle this while she just refilled your glass of wine and poured a fresh one for Jack’s wife who had just gotten the kids to sleep. Then she insisted that you tell her all about Sid as a boyfriend, eager to learn about how the kid she’d known for years was treating her little girl. 

With your mother on your side, you knew it was only a matter of time before Jack came around. Still, he hadn’t said a word to you prior to you going to bed and you’d talked on the phone with Sid letting him know what had happened. He assured you that it would all be fine, that he could handle JJ and for the first time he slipped that he loves you. 

Those three little words quelled any fears you had and you fell asleep with a smile on your face. 

And while it took time, JJ did eventually come around apologizing for overreacting, mentioning he’d known that this would happen for years, and reminding you that even if they were teammates now, he’d drop the gloves with Sid if you ever needed him to. You laughed and assured him that that wouldn’t be necessary and you were proven right when a year later Sid asked first your brother and then your dad for their permission to marry you even if he told you that he would have asked even if they hadn’t given it. It was clear that JJ was over any of his hurt feelings at your secret relationship when he agreed to serve as Sid’s best man and watched as you married the love of your life. 

You’d never imagined your childhood crush would ever actually become a reality but you were so grateful for a business trip to Montreal that made it all possible.