#developing fondness for a hockey player one of the worst things that can happen to a person it’s true

[significant-narratives]

auston’s soft little voice in the latest leaf blueprint kills me… there is such a warmth and kindness to him…

[worlduniversityrp-blog]

Accepted Denmark App

Accepted! Please have a blog up within the next week, and send the URL to this blog so we can add you to the members page @brunchhater 

OOC

NAME: Eliza PRONOUNS: she/her CONTACT URL: brunchhater.tumblr.com

CHARACTER WANTED: Denmark! ACTIVITY LEVEL: A solid 5!!! TIMEZONE: South Eastern U.S time PASSWORD: accepted MEMBERS PAGE ICON:

((this is formatted poorly I’m sorry, I can resend the icn full sized if you want though!!! If its easier too, also link!: http://paperdrawsshit.tumblr.com/))

EXTRA: Yes! I’m in school and I work so I might be slow or won’t do replies till either late at night or early in the morning depending on the day!

IC

FULL NAME: Magnus Frederick Densen AGE / YEAR: AGE AND YEAR: 21, 3rd year/Junior GENDER / PRONOUNS: He/Him pronouns

APPEARANCE: AT LEAST 1 PARAGRAPH: Magnus is a strikingly tall 6’3 man with wild, thick blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got the build of a hockey player since that was the sport he stuck with since middle school and is quite muscular but doesn’t know his own strength. Magnus is covered in freckles on his cheeks, shoulders, and thighs but has only the occasional mole on his arm. He has a scar over his collarbone that’s a brighter pink color and a lighter scar across the bridge of his nose. Along with that he has a very charming smile which includes dimples.

PERSONALITY: AT LEAST 1 PARAGRAPH: The best way to describe him is an overexcited puppy who fumbles over things. Magnus has a heart of gold and is a really good person, he’s easily excitable and even easier to please and distract. He’s very gentle and caring but has no vocal control and unfortunately is already a naturally loud person. He’s the friend that’ll let you cry on his shoulder but won’t let you leave without him giving his two cents and making sure you accept it. Gives good advice for many things but has issues taking his own advice. When he actually does get angry it comes in the form of terrifying silence and a very disappointed look on his face. It’s quiet and it hardly happens, it’s the same when he’s sad. He doesn’t like showing his negative emotions because it’s a personal belief of his that just because he feels bad doesn’t mean other people should. However this can be irritating to even him because he just won’t ask for help when he’s suffering.

SKILLS:

Hockey! He’s been playing hockey since he was 11, very strong because of this so his strength is strength but hockey strength. 

This is a talent, he’s really good with graphic design and art in general. Especially with color theory and making things look aesthetically pleasing even though he looks a whole mess. Its ironic

Resilient, if there’s a will there’s a way and Magnus knows how to find a way to do anything especially when asked. He won’t stop until he accomplishes or gets something. 

Team-Player, good with people, a huge people person, very good with team building exercises and group projects. Definitely is the glue in friendships sometimes. However he’s also a natural leader most (some) of the time.

FLAWS:

Puts others before himself, He’ll ignore his own problems just to help other people and has the worst habit of doing this to a point where it actually hurts his mental stability, grades, etc. Doesn’t see it when people point it out to him.

Has a slight ego, he takes a lot of pride in stuff he does well and any compliment he gets makes him feel invincible. Which goes to his head and gets him hurt (sometimes, or he gets a bit cocky) 

He has Celiac disease, parties are awful for him especially with beer. Sometimes he forgets he has celiac and its pain for him and sometimes those around him. Occasionally gags when he smells bread from the bad memories and pain.

Overworks himself most of the time and is tired close to 24/7, operates on caffeine and love for everything.

BACKSTORY: 

Magnus was raised as an only child to a single mother. He lived with his grandmother and her and was taught a lot of fundamentals. His grandmother used to tell him that if he felt bad he should turn that bad energy into something good. He picked up baking from her and developed the habit of being a do gooder from a young age. Upon entering elementary school he started to realize things about his family such as their financial stability and that it was not like his classmates. His mother paid for him to go to private school since he entered school and the difference between him and his classmates settled into stone with him at a very young age.

Throughout his school years Magnus was always very bright, he picked up on new things really quickly and wanted to learn as much as he could to show his mom that he was grateful for the education she essentially bought for him. He was offered to skip a year in elementary and took it nearly instantly. This put him against older kids who unfortunately looked down at him and doubted his abilities. He pulled through and tried to be nice despite their odd resentment of him (which was something he didn’t pick up on) he did make friends but never any truly close ones until he got into middle school.

In middle school he switched over to a different private school that focused more on getting into a prepatory high school. He became interested in the hockey team because he hadn’t heard of the sport before. Upon signing up for try-outs he made a good friend at the same time who was also signing up. Of course he ended up making it onto the team and that granted him the gift of friendship when he needed it most. Middle school is basically horrible to everyone and Magnus was no exception as he grew like a weed and it became obvious to his classmates that he wasn’t like them on the economical class level.

Teasing came to him in the form of mocking his income, something he didn’t quite get because out of all things, they chose that? It was absurd to him for a while until he finally got that they were mad because he was lumped into their ‘rich’ group of kids per se. He decided to prove them wrong entirely though. Every time a tease came his way he’d just laugh it off and talk about how lucky he was to be getting a good education, and oh yeah isn’t he the only one with an A in Entering Physics? He thought so. It easily blew over him on the outside but inside he knew his mom was struggling. So he worked even harder, especially with hockey to get a scholarship.

During his 8th grade year he was scouted by a private high school interested in giving him a hockey scholarship which was astounding to him because he’d only thought that applied to colleges and university but he accepted immediately. He switched schools, teams, and classes all together and was proud to come home to his mother and tell her about it. When he saw the way she smiled it made him truly happy with himself. He’d done something right, his hard work paid off and he was on his way to success.

High school was a lot easier, everyone seemed to love him except for his Algebra 1 teacher who hated that he was so fond of correcting her work. Magnus started knowing when he was right and wasn’t afraid to speak out about it either. It went to his ego though, even his peers loathed his brightness so he decided to play dumb- to be more well liked while keeping his grades up as much as possible. Instead he decided to make jokes in class, ones that even got teacher's’ sides in stitches. He took pride in that too, how he was able to make people happy. However highschool was also when his celiac gave him a run for the worst and he was constantly sick during his sophomore year and tried to push through it.

He tried to do a hockey game during its worst boughts and instead of having his head in the game he was focused on the lights around him. Overwhelmed he actually managed to get hit dead in the nose with the hockey puck and it left a nice scar from where it split his skin over the bridge of his nose.( He does change the story every time he tells it.) His coach sat him down and asked if he was okay and Magnus told him how sick he’d been feeling the past month and it miraculously ended in a doctor’s referral, one emergency room visit, and medication to treat the previous damage. It could’ve been worse but he was glad that he got better before junior year.

Junior year was eventful because not only did Magnus do hockey and decided to take all AP classes, he also got a job to help his mothers and grandmother with bills. He juggled all three things with only one spare piece of thread and nearly went insane during that year from stress. If it weren’t for hockey being a way to get his emotions out he’s positive he would’ve been a lot angrier towards others than he was. Something he felt guilty over always was his anger even though it never showed in typical signs of yelling,he’d always apologize to people for being mean but they never got it and he felt too guilty about his feelings to explain them really. Something he still does to date but he’s better at managing it.

During this year he picked one of his majors, marketing after he designed a poster for the school play. He was always good with colors and drawing but never really pursued it, taking favor in as many academic courses as he physically could. What got im interested in it even more was during a career fair where he heard a used cars salesman and realized that that was something he could TOTALLY do. Plus he could work for all sorts of people or run his own marketing business entirely if he wanted. He also wanted to do broadcasting, he was always told he had a “tv worthy” personality so when it came to applying for college he decided to major in both.

Lucky for him his transcript provided his first college with all of his credits and the massive amount of classes he took and his consistently exceptional grades. At first he got into a prestigious school and did that for two years before he decided that he didn’t like it. Even though he was in on academic scholarship he wanted a break from the people he’d been surrounded with all of his life. Tired of- stereotypical rich people.

So he decided to apply for World University, it was a chance to leave where he grew up and start over entirely knew. With his perfected ‘English’ accent and grammar into place he put great effort into applying and making sure his credits were in order to transfer. Upon being accepted he was so entirely happy that he did indeed cry because what was even better was that he actually had more resources in America, especially Manhattan for his broadcasting America.

Magnus couldn’t wait to see what the school could give to him and what he could give back.

HEADCANONS: 

Real life FC is Lucky Blue Smith

Has a birthmark in the shape of Denmark right above his butt

Terrified of small dogs (he’s a big clumsy man and doesn’t want to hurt them)

Casually watches Project Runway when he’s studying

Speaks 4 languages (including Danish, English, Spanish, and (some) old norse.)

MAJOR(S): Double major in Marketing and Broadcasting

MINORS: N/A (he doesn’t take a minor he’s too busy!!

COURSES: SOME SPECIFIC COURSES THEY TAKE FOR THEIR MAJOR/MINORS. (OPTIONAL):Product Management.,Retail and Sales Management, Logistical Strategies,Media Planning, and Editing.

SHIPS:

OTP(S): PAIRINGS YOU LIKE/ARE WILLING TO DO: Anything for the most part? I am typical and like Den/Nor and Den/Ame but I’m not exactly picky choosy with it either. The more obscure the ship the more fun, y’know?

NOTP(S): Basically adult/minor ships but I don’t know if that’ll be an issue in this ring or not (correct me if I’m wrong!)

WRITING SAMPLE: 

Magnus didn’t realize he’d overslept for his midterm until it was too late. His alarm had never gone off and when he looked at his clock and realized that it was 10:30 he felt something inside him snap and die- part of his soul leave him. He sucked in a breath and launched himself out of bed, putting on some clothes and shoes and hunting down his book bag. He couldn’t BELIEVE he was late for his midterm, god he was gonna fail- his professor was going to fail him and he was going to die on the streets cold and alone with nothing but his impression of a used car salesman and that bad magazine spread. He tried swallowing down his fear as he brushed his teeth and made a mad dash out of his dorm and out of the housing building entirely. Magnus tried to dodge people on the way, swerving, keeping a good spring up most of the time. He cursed the journalism building for being a 30 minute walk across campus for him. His ribs were aching and he felt like he couldn’t breathe just as he literally crashed into someone. “SHIT- I mean! Crap, I’m sorry- are you okay- I was running I didn’t see you and you’re so small and-” His words came out between pants as he extended his arm towards the person he ran into. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice softer than it was before.

[starwitness42]

Holding the Stick (6/?)

Alec Lightwood has dreamed of hoisting Lord Stanley since he was eight. It's in his blood. He's spent the last five years trying to make that dream a reality, only managing to fall short each time.

Until a scandal leads to a multi-team trade that sends Magnus Bane his way. One of the top performing wingers in the league. An up and coming star.

And the most handsome man Alec has ever met.

He's doomed.

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

It has become remarkably clear to Magnus that things are not entirely straight in Whoville.

He is not stupid. In the past, it is possible that he has taken things a bit further in fantasy than real life strictly implied. But there was something there in that closet. How much of it was alcohol induced, he does not know. Alec was certainly far gone in that regard. But there had been something there, and not just with Magnus and his overactive imagination, but on both sides. And so the only conclusion he can come to is that Alec Lightwood cannot possibly be as straight as advertised.

Where he is along that line and what precisely his feelings are for Magnus? That’s the Final Jeopardy question right there. But there’s something at least moderately liberating in the realization that he has a shot, even if that shot is from center ice through five defenders and a brick wall of a goaltender.

Regardless of what may or may not have happened if Jace didn’t have the worst timing in the world, it’s not Magnus’ place to tell Alec what he’s feeling. And given that Alec hasn’t contacted him, he’s evidently not feeling a burning desire to finish what they almost started. So Magnus has kept his distance in the interim because the last thing he wants to do is startle Alec off before either one of them can get a handle on the situation.

The charity ball was the first in a rare stretch of three off days in a row before they head out west for two weeks on something called the “circus trip.” An excursion aptly named due to the fact that they’re being kicked out of their home arena by Barnum and Bailey’s descent for the Thanksgiving season. But so the ball had been the start of what Magnus had assumed would be three blissful, peaceful days off, enjoying his new city. Only he has literally not left his hotel room since he scurried home that night.  

After what happened in the closet, he really wanted to get laid. By one person in particular, of course, but he’d been so drunk and spun out that he was willing not to be terribly picky. That is, of course, until his dear friend Catarina pointed out that the reporters were finally calming down around him, finally asking him about hockey again, and so risking a good, solid poke of the hornet’s nest might not be the best thing for him.

He absolutely abhors it when Catarina is right about something. About anything, really, but especially when she hits the proverbial nail on the head with regards to his personal life. But he’d still taken her advice and gone home instead of prowling the streets looking for the first tall, broad, dark-haired, hazel-eyed, reasonable facsimile he could find willing to screw him senseless.

There had been tiny marks on his elbows when he went to get undressed for bed, light bruises from where Alec’s fingers had dug into him. And there’s a fair chance that he may have pressed his fingers into them in the hopes of worsening the bruising, making them last. But essentially, in all, the night was a near complete disaster.

Because she is the cheapest person he knows, Catarina had spent the night in his hotel room instead of getting one of her own. She was only in town for the evening, having had her first in person meeting with the elder Lightwoods during the day, and having agreed to be Magnus’ buffer date for the ball. But all of that had come with the condition that he let her sleep over so she wouldn’t have to shell out a hundred bucks for a place to bed. And so he’d accepted if only because he did not want to go to the ball alone, not when he knew Alec would be there with the lovely blonde.

He had insisted that Cat take the bed, and she had insisted he join her. Which is something his pride would have normally rebuked. But he has missed the physical comfort of lying with someone in his arms. So when Cat offered, he accepted.

Nothing happened. Nothing would ever happen. But he did get six hours of uninterrupted sleep as the big spoon before she had to catch her flight back to L.A. And so he had been grateful, in the end, even if he thinks he still might have rather done the whole prowling thing.

He spent the entirety of his second day off alone in his hotel, eating room service and watching HBO while definitely not staring at his phone in the hopes of developing the telekinetic powers necessary to make it ring. And then he had fallen asleep last night with a half eaten sandwich on his bare stomach, completely alone and spoon-free.

Now it’s Thanksgiving. Or, well, pretend Thanksgiving anyway. A party that Alec throws every year the afternoon before the circus trip because when the real Thanksgiving rolls around they will be on the road, living in a hotel. And because Alec is thoughtful. And a good captain. And handsome. Which, that last one has nothing to do with him throwing a good old fashioned Thanksgiving feast for his teammates, but it bears repeating nonetheless.

He is very handsome.

Magnus had toyed with skipping out. He is still not sure what happened the other evening, and is even less sure if Alec would even want to see him right now outside of anything but the rink. But Alec had not specifically uninvited him, and Raphael had yelled at him when he mentioned possibly ditching. Something about this is a life-altering eating experience; if you don’t go you will regret it for the rest of your life, whatever that means. Which is why he is in Raphael’s car right now, listening to him prattle on about this cheese, bacon and potato casserole Alec made last year that practically had Raphael climaxing, judging by the heated way he’s talking about it.

Alec cooks. Of course he does.

It is in the middle of this very odd, very uncomfortable food-gasm discussion that Magnus comes to a conclusion on something he’s been batting around listlessly ever since the ball:

He really wants to be Alec’s friend.

Well. Okay, honestly? He’d like to be more than that. Quite a lot more. But after he finally looked up Alec’s very pretty girlfriend yesterday and realized that she is one of the country’s top female MMA fighters and hence could quite easily kill him with her bare hands with minimal effort, he realized that friend was probably the best he was going to get at the moment.

Strangely, he feels like that might be enough. And perhaps he is simply being delusional. He is, after all, him. Delusional might as well be his middle name. But he wants Alec in his life, that much he knows. Not as just a captain or teammate or linemate, but in the fabric, stitched in. And so if friend is the only offer on the table, it’s one he’ll gladly accept.

The problem is he’s not entirely sure how to get there. Magnus has never really had to go out and make friends before. People have always just sort of been drawn to him. Often it’s only for short bursts until one party gets tired of the other. But it still leaves him with the odd conclusion that he is not actually sure how to make a person his friend.

He wants to try, though. A bit more desperately than he’d be willing to admit to anyone who is an actual living human being. And so the first and most logical step he can think of is to take a step back and let Alec set the pace. Which is what he plans to do today.

Alec’s condo is the precise living space one would expect from a highly paid athlete under the age of twenty-five. It’s in a neighborhood called Lakeshore East, in a high rise facing the lake. And it is gorgeous, or it would be anyway if it weren’t decorated in gray scale.

That’s so very Alec too. The drab, utilitarian nature of the place, failing to take advantage of the dark, rich hardwood floors, the lofted ceilings or the stunning wall of windows opening out to the water. But for some reason the sterile atmosphere is actually making him smile as he leaves his coat and shoes in the entryway closet while peering into the open expanse of the main living space with something like the warmth of fondness settling in his stomach.

“Magnus, good, you’re here,” Jace says rather frantically a moment later, shaking him out of his reverie with a hand clasped firmly around his wrist. “We need some help in the kitchen.”

“You need my help, too?” Raphael asks in an overly excited way that hearkens back to their borderline disturbing conversation from the ride in.  

“You kidding me, Santiago? I’m not letting you anywhere near the food, vulture.”

Raphael hisses at Jace, Jace flicks Raphael off with his spare hand, and then Jace is tugging Magnus back towards the kitchen.

“I am… sorry about that,” Magnus says once they are Raphael free as he settles his eyes on the rather impressive shiner swirling across the left side of Jace’s face.

Jace shrugs.

“It’s cool. I mean, I’m totally going to pay both of you back tenfold at an as yet undetermined time, but I can respect a good prank when I come across one. Plus, you know, hockey player, so no one thinks twice if they see me with a black eye. It’s kind of awesome actually, having a girlfriend that can beat the shit out of someone. I wish she hadn’t used those powers on me, but let’s be honest, I probably deserved it, right?”

He pauses, turns to Magnus and smiles. But as with most of their conversations, Magnus has neither the will nor the energy to follow all of the random thoughts that pour out of Jace’s mouth in rapid succession. And so he simply smiles, nods, and hopes that covers whatever Jace is looking for from him.

It does, judging by the way Jace slaps him good-naturedly on the shoulder before dragging him into the kitchen and saying in this overly proud voice, “I brought another helper!”

Whereas the tux Alec wore to the party was too dazzling to have been picked out by him, his current outfit doesn’t seem to fit that bill. Yet the brown pants and black sweater whose color combination would normally be horrifying to Magnus still look almost as arresting as the off white brocade jacket had.

It could be because of the relative tightness of the outfit itself, how both the sweater and the pants cling to his muscles. The muscles of Magnus’ friend. His friend’s muscles. His friend’s perfectly-sculpted-like-an-angel-reached-down-and-carved-them-out-of-granite muscles. And Magnus usually has far more control over his own thoughts than this, but for a moment, he is lost.

He’d been allowed to touch that chest. For a few glorious seconds, he’d been allowed to rest his hands on it, to feel the way Alec’s heart pounded furiously beneath his fingers. And it seems to be the only thing he can think about as he stands in his friend’s kitchen, in a condo full of his teammates, while all the while wishing he could drag Alec back into a closet again in the hopes of recreating whatever stroke of magic brought them there in the first place.  

Friend.

“Um, I’ve got everything pretty much covered,” Alec says, his eyes a bit wider than usual as they linger on Magnus in a way he’s sure is totally innocuous. Friendly. Because they are friends.

“Yeah, well, you might be able to do six things at once, but I only have two hands,” Jace bites out petulantly. “So if you don’t want the help, Magnus can come work at my station, Chef Ass Hat.”

He hands Magnus a spoon before grabbing him by his shoulders and steering him towards a pot of something simmering on the stove that smells like literal heaven.

“What is that?” Magnus asks, leaning over to get a better whiff.

“Ham and sweet potato soup,” Alec explains. “It’s for the first course.”

Magnus looks to Jace with eyes getting wider by the second. “There are multiple courses?”

The smile that spreads across Jace’s face reaches all the way to his ears. “Oh yeah, there are courses for days.”

Suddenly, Magnus is beginning to properly understand why Raphael had told him to not eat breakfast today.

A short while later, while in the middle of following Alec’s neatly handwritten, incredibly detailed instructions on how to assemble the very same casserole Raphael had been going on about, another guest enters the kitchen. And Magnus can feel the temperature drop a good ten degrees before he even turns his head to see who has joined them.

“Alec, may I speak with you for a moment?” Mrs. Lightwood says. But though it is a question, it is very clear to everyone present that Alec’s response is not one he is allowed to make on his own.

She leads him into the adjoining dining room. And although Magnus fears the consequences of messing up his current task – Raphael might literally kill him if he screws this one up – he can’t help but let at least half of his attention be pulled off in Alec’s wake.

He cannot make out what they are saying. Or should he say what Alec’s mother is saying, given that it doesn’t seem Alec is actually an active participant in their conversation. But just as he is becoming frustrated at the fact that they are not talking loudly enough to be eavesdropped, Jace comes up and takes the utensils out of his hand.

He bumps his hip into Magnus’, his eyes cast down at Alec’s recipe card as if he is trying to pretend that he did not just tell Magnus to go listen in on his best friend’s very private discussion with his mother. But Magnus is not the type of person to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he goes.

He is unable to see Maryse from his hiding place near the door, but since he cares very little for her in this equation he is not bothered by that fact. What he is bothered by, however, is the way Alec is standing – his hands clasped behind his back, his head tipped down to the ground, his eyes locked on a patch a few feet in front of him like a perfectly cowed underling.

“I expect better from you,” Maryse says, her voice tight and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

And Alec’s voice is so small it physically pains Magnus when he says a quick, “Yes, mother.”

“Jace’s girlfriend punched him in the face in the middle of our most important function of the year, and it is all because you allowed yourself to become… distracted.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I am not looking for apologies, Alec; I am looking for obedience. The respectability of this team is on your shoulders. You have an obligation to your teammates, to your family, to your city to uphold a certain sense of order and decorum. We have entrusted you with that responsibility, believing that you were capable of upholding it. Upholding the Lightwood legacy. But if you are no longer capable of that…”

Magnus rolls his eyes at the way she trails off warningly, because he knew this woman was ridiculous. There are plenty of stories circulating through town about that. But the way she’s talking to Alec like he’s some sort of high prince instead of a hockey player is simply that.

Ridiculous.

Alec doesn’t seem to think so, though, given the way he looks like he wants to melt into the floor when he says an even quieter, “I’m still capable of it.” And Magnus wishes he were in a position where he could go to Alec’s aid, give Maryse a piece of his own mind. But that is not his place and he knows it, and so he holds his tongue.

“Your father and I will not soon forget this, Alec, and I hope you do not either. There is far too much at stake here for you to pull anything like this again, do you understand me?”

He looks up at her, his face completely blank as he utters the words, “Yes, ma’am,” like an emotionless pod person.

“Good. Then you may get back to work.”

Magnus does his best to back quickly away from the door when she says that, but she still manages to find cause to glare at him when she reenters the kitchen. Her death stare only lasting a few seconds before she heads over to where Jace is still working on the casserole.

“How is your eye, dear?” she asks as she takes Jace’s face softly in her hands, tipping it toward the light. And the difference between how she just treated her own son and how she is now doting on Jace is startling to him.

“It’s fine, Maryse,” Jace replies. “No harm, no foul.”

But according to what Magnus just witnessed, there was plenty of harm done by one incredibly foul woman.

He can’t stand to look at this particular spectacle anymore, not with the image of a browbeaten Alec still fresh in his mind. But when he turns his gaze back to the dining room, his mood is not helped by what he finds.

Alec is still just standing there, in the same position he was in when his mother left. Only now he is chewing on his bottom lip and the hands clasped behind his back are wrung together like he is a finely crafted ham and sweet potato soup ready to boil over.

He leaves a moment later, Alec does, heading out the other side of the dining room. And Magnus is smart enough to know that he might just want a minute alone to himself, and yet he is also dumb enough to follow him.

He finds Alec in the hallway, slipping into his shoes and reaching for his coat. And again, Magnus concedes that this is probably none of his business, and is hence something he should simply back away from. And yet he finds himself saying, “Running away from your own party?” in a voice that he hopes sounds lighter than it feels, stuck in his chest. Because when he sees someone that needs help, he can’t seem to resist reaching out and helping.

It’s a curse, really. One he blames entirely on his loving grandmother.

“What?” Alec asks, his eyes blinking furiously at Magnus like the last thing he was expecting right now was another person. “Um… no… I just ran out of something… of rolls. I need more rolls.”

“Ah,” Magnus says with a cordial nod. And he is going to leave it at that, he swears. Only he must be currently possessed by the spirit of someone far more nosey and intrusive than him because he finds himself asking, “Want company?” even though it is painfully clear that Alec just wants to run away and be alone.

Except, maybe he doesn’t. Because a second later he is looking up at Magnus with something almost resembling hope in his eyes as he says, “Yeah, I’d love some.”

And that is how Magnus finds himself bundling up for an outdoor excursion to join Prince Alec Lightwood on his quest for mythical dinner rolls.

Alec leads them out the front of the building instead of down to the garage, which is strange given that Magnus does not recall seeing any grocery stores within walking distance on his way in. But like he said with his plan earlier, he is perfectly content to let Alec take the lead right now, even if that lead means he does not get to huddle in a heated vehicle at the moment.

“I have a confession to make,” Alec blurts out once they have walked roughly two and a half blocks in utter silence.

“Okay,” Magnus replies, his voice as controlled as he can make it while his insides attempt to revolt at those few simple words of Alec’s.

“I didn’t need rolls.”

“Ah,” Magnus says, and he almost laughs at himself for being so ridiculous, as if he thought Alec would somehow choose now to say I am not straight and I want to have sex with you or something equally preposterous like that.

He really needs to get a handle on himself.

“I kind of assumed that,” Magnus continues to fill the renewed silence. “You seem like the type of person that would make perfect roll related calculations and then overcompensate by ten percent.”

“Fifteen,” Alec says, his voice a touch stronger now than it was before as a small smile tugs at his lips.

And so in spite of the frigid air, Magnus is being one hundred percent truthful when he says, “It’s okay to just walk,” because it is.

He will walk with Alec wherever he wants to go right now, so long as he keeps smiling.  

“That was pretty rough in there,” Magnus ventures a minute or so later, waiting a few seconds to gauge Alec’s response to his admission that he was eavesdropping.

When Alec does and says nothing, Magnus continues.

“If I am overstepping, please tell me to stop, but your mother? She was out of line in there. There was no cause for her to treat you that way.”

Alec shrugs in a way that implies he is far too used to this kind of treatment from his parents.  

“She wasn’t wrong.”

Magnus actually laughs at that, just a small puff of one because it is far too cold out here for the real thing, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“I think that I am going to have to respectfully disagree with you there.”

“You’re joking, right?” Alec asks as he casts incredulous eyes down at where Magnus is still walking beside him. “You were there. You saw what I did.”  

“You were having fun, Alec. At a very stuffy, very dull party.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not paid to have fun. I’m paid to uphold the family image.”

In spite of the cold, Magnus laughs far more deeply this time, which garners a rather strange look from Alec.

“I am sorry, it’s just… that sounds like something out of the 1800s, Alec. Like you are some longsuffering heroine in a Jane Austen novel.”

Alec’s only response this time is an agitated huff.

“Look, I get it, your family cares about public opinion,” Magnus continues, making sure to soften his tone in the hopes of pulling Alec back to the Land of Smiles and Normalcy. “Trust me, I understand how that can be a slippery slope. But you’re a human being, Alec, not a robot. At least, I’m assuming you are. I haven’t had time to inspect you for a control panel just yet.”

Alec looks at him again, something almost playful toying at the edge of his expression. And so Magnus, being Magnus, doubles down.

“I’d be willing to do a strip search if you’d like,” he says as he bumps his shoulder into Alec. “If you’re worried about the state of your own humanity.”

He feels so stupid here, reckless in a way that seems silly, given how they are simply talking. But it feels like more than that, like so much more, especially when Alec’s face softens like a jagged ice cube melting on hot pavement and Magnus’ insides melt right along with it.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he finishes, because that’s true too. With or without the closet, he is simply glad that Alec had a short span of time in which he allowed himself to be a twenty-three year old man, nothing more.

“It was nice, seeing you enjoy your self somewhere other than the rink.”

“It was nice?” Alec asks, and his tone is weird now, as is the look on his face. Half expectant and half something else that Magnus cannot quite pin down as his steps slow and he gazes down at Magnus in a way that makes him feel shaky and imbalanced.  

“Yes,” Magnus replies through the increasing tightness in his throat. “It was very nice.”

For a moment, just one fleeting moment, he is here, Alec is. The Alec from the closet. The one from the party. The laughing, open, happy Alec is right here until something in the air or his head or somewhere flicks the switch and locks him back down again.

“Well, it’s not going to happen again. The drunkenness I mean. Even if I was having fun, I can only remember half of it at most anyway. And the majority of that is taken up by Jace getting punched and me puking all over a five hundred dollar pair of shoes I now need to replace.”

“That was pretty hilarious,” Magnus says brightly in order to cover the disappointment he feels at wondering specifically which half of the evening Alec does not recall. “The punch at least. The puking, not as much. That Clary girl, though, she has got a very nice right hook.”

“Yeah,” Alec says with something like reverence. “I don’t know how she’s never punched him before. It’s a daily struggle for me not to do it every time he opens his mouth.”

Magnus laughs, and this time, Alec joins him.

“She must be some sort of angel sent straight from heaven to him,” Magnus supplies, and the look on Alec’s face when he casts his eyes down this time quite literally takes Magnus’ breath away.  

It’s not desire, not quite anyway. There’s very little heat to it, it is simply warm, open, and softer than any expression Magnus has ever seen him wear as he says quietly, “Yeah, like an angel,” while staring directly into Magnus’ eyes.

It is entirely possible that Magnus is going to fail miserably at this whole friend thing.

They happen upon a sunglasses boutique a few silent minutes later, and the way Alec slows his steps and looks inside with the sort of longing one often sees on the faces of children in front of candy and/or toy stores leads Magnus to believe that he would like to peruse.

“Do you want to go in?” he asks.

“What?” Alec responds as if he was yet again startled to realize he was not actually alone. “No. I’m pretty sure everything in there is out of my price range.”

Magnus scrunches his eyes at that. Deeply.

“Does your mother have you on a strict allowance or something?” he asks, but all Alec does in response is glare. “Your condo seems to imply that you understand how to spend money, Alec. I think some nice sunglasses are well within your budget.”

“Eh, it’s too big,” he says, clearly referring to the condo and not the budget. “I only moved into that building because Jace did and he made me.”

“Tell me something, do you do everything Jace asks you to do?”

Alec bites the corner of his lip before saying, “I should probably pause and pretend to think about that to make myself seem less pathetic, but yeah. I pretty much do.”

Something warm flushes through Magnus’ blood at the admission, prompting him to reach his hand out to Alec.

“Come on,” he says, “Jace would want you to go in there and buy yourself a very expensive pair of sunglasses. I am certain of it. In fact, I could get him on the phone if you would like, so he can tell you himself. Or you could just take my word for it.”

Alec stares at Magnus for a few seconds, his eyes lingering on his face before they slide down to Magnus’ still outstretched hand. And he feels ridiculous for the umpteenth time today, standing out here on the sidewalk like this, practically praying for Alec to take his hand. But when he does, it’s like somehow the world is locking into place.

He is such a melodramatic nutcase.

In some strange twist of fate, the pair of them stumble into some romantic comedy clothing store montage. Only instead of suits or dresses, they spend at least twenty minutes trying on sunglasses, handing pairs off to each other, laughing the whole way through. And Magnus has been on all sorts of dates before, but even though he knows this is not technically that, it is still quite possibly the best one he has ever had.

He and Camille danced at the foot of the Eiffel Tower in the rain, and somehow, trying on sunglasses like a teenager with Alec Lightwood is a thousand times better.

How in the world did this happen to him?

He can tell when Alec finds a pair that he actually likes because he takes them on and off his face five times before putting them back on the rack.

“Why don’t you buy them?” Magnus asks as he retrieves the sunglasses as if he thinks someone else will swoop in and buy them even though they are the only two customers in the entire store.

“They cost six hundred dollars. It’s stupid to buy sunglasses that expensive when I can go to Target and get a pair for under thirty bucks.”

Alec’s words actually cause a pain to spread through Magnus’ chest.

“You are joking, right? Please tell me that you’re joking?”

Alec furrows his brow and crosses his arms over his chest. “What?”

“Alec, you do realize that you are a millionaire, right? I mean, I assume you were present when you signed your last contract.”

“Just because I have money that doesn’t mean I need to waste it on frivolous stuff.”

The pain in his chest continues to spread.

“Looking good is not frivolous. It is our duty.”

Alec snorts at Magnus’ very valid claim.

“Really? Duty? That’s the word you want to use here?”

“When one lives in the public eye, Alexander, it is one’s duty to dress to impress.”

Alec is looking at him oddly when he says that, his lips slightly parted and his eyes open a touch wider than normal like there was something almost shocking in what Magnus just spoke.

“Are you okay?” Magnus asks.

“What? Yeah. It’s just… you called me Alexander.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Alec bites out as he reaches his hand out like he wants to touch Magnus before thinking better of it and retreating back to himself. “I… I like it.”

His chest is still hurting, but now it is for an entirely different reason as he says, “Okay then, Alexander, as I was saying,” but the way Alec is smiling at him right now almost makes Magnus lose all command of the English language.  

“You need to look good,” he finishes valiantly, adding a bold, “In fact, you should let me take you suit shopping sometime,” to the end because he’s feeling reckless today, so he might as well throw caution to the wind. He is, after all, in the Windy City, right?  

“What’s wrong with my suits?” Alec asks in this offended tone that is so adorable it makes Magnus want to adopt a herd of fluffy kittens.

“I’m not going to dignify that question with a response because I think you already know the answer to it.”

Alec opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say is swallowed up in the buzzing of his cell phone.

“Hold on a sec,” he groans as he looks at the caller ID before turning his back and walking away from the counter. And because Alec didn’t seem to mind his eavesdropping of earlier, Magnus feels like it can’t hurt to do it again.

“Jace, calm down,” Alec says, and for a brief moment Magnus is worried that something truly awful happened at the condo in their absence. Only any fear he has is flushed away when Alec says, “Just take it out of the oven.”

Magnus laughs lightly as he takes the sunglasses over to the cashier while Alec’s conversation continues to hum in the background.

“You know it’s done because the timer went off,” he says as the cashier smiles warmly out at Magnus and takes his offered credit card. “Just… can you just stop being a freaking spaz for five seconds? I’ll be home in ten minutes, just take the damn thing out of the oven. And use oven mitts.”

There’s a pause in which both Magnus and the cashier wait with bated breath for the conclusion of Alec’s conversation.

“That was not a joke, asshole. You remember that time you were making pizza at my place and you were so anxious to get back to Halo that you forgot to… no, you shut the fuck up. I’m not the moron that burned his hand on a freaking pizza pan. Just… bye.”

Alec hangs up with a sharp groan that makes both Magnus and the cashier laugh. And then he is there at Magnus’ side, all tall, broad and surly.

“Here,” he says as he turns to Alec and slides the recently purchased sunglasses onto his face.

“What’s this?”

“I bought them for you,” Magnus replies as Alec takes the sunglasses off and holds them in his hand as if they are made of something so fragile he’s afraid to even touch them.

“Why?”

Now it is Magnus’ turn to shrug. “Think of them as a thank you gift.”

“For what?”

“We can figure that part out later.”

There’s a small smile on Alec’s lips now, tugging at the corners as his grip on the sunglasses starts to resemble something human. “So they’re a preemptive thank you gift?”

“As I am fairly certain that you will do something worthy of a thank you gift at some point in the relatively near future, yes, they are a preemptive gift.”

Alec looks at the sunglasses still clutched in his hand before dragging his eyes back to Magnus’ face and saying the softest, “Thank you,” Magnus has ever heard in his entire life.

Right in this moment, Magnus has the overwhelming urge to buy Alec every single pair of sunglasses in the store.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the cashier says a second later. “But can I maybe get a picture with you guys? I’m a huge fan.”

“Of course,” Magnus says at the same time that Alec says, “Sure,” and then the girl is calling to someone named Carl in the back to get his butt out there to take the picture for her.

She hands Carl her phone once he emerges from the back looking very put out, and then she is moving from behind the counter to settle in between them as they lean down to get closer to her height. Which is obviously a more difficult task for Alec than it is for him.

They both reach out at the same time, his right arm and Alec’s left, moving to brace behind their dear-hearted fan. But instead of resting their hands on her shoulders, or just hanging them loosely behind her, they both seem to have the same idea at the same moment. And so Alec’s hand is wrapping around Magnus’ elbow at the same time that Magnus is returning the favor.

Once the picture has been taken, Magnus is ready to just let go and move on with his day. And he does, he opens his palm and goes to stand up like this is all just normal. Only instead of doing the same, Alec’s touch lingers, sliding slowly down Magnus’ forearm, resting briefly at his hand, their fingers twisted together lightly for a breath that’s stolen clean from Magnus’ chest before Alec is letting him go and heading for the door.

It takes Magnus a moment to follow him, but that’s mostly because the bones in his legs have seemingly turned to some sort of gelatinous substance in the last half-minute.

They don’t speak at all on the way back to Alec’s condo, but there is something about the silence that is screaming at Magnus right now. And so his head is actually pounding from it when they finally make it safely inside.

“Where the hell did you go?” Jace says as soon as they are through the door.

“To buy more rolls,” Alec replies.

“Really? Where are they then?”

“Uh,” Alec stammers, “They were all out.”

“So you bought sunglasses instead?” he asks as he takes the aviators off of where Alec had perched them atop his head once they entered the building.

“Fuck off, dick wipe,” Alec says as he retrieves the sunglasses so he can place them gently on a table by the door. And then he is heading back through the dining room at that, presumably to finish preparing his feast.

It is a feast, that much is plainly obvious simply by the smell that has overtaken the condo in their absence. So Magnus’ mouth is literally watering as he joins the rest of the team in settling around the oversized table filling up the entire expanse of Alec’s dining room.

He made place cards for everyone, which is something that Magnus finds unbearably cute until he notices that Alec has actually placed Magnus kiddie corner to the head of the table where he, Alec, will be sitting. And now Magnus just sort of wants to jump off the balcony.

They are friends. Alec is his friend. That is that.

He spends some time before dinner talking to Lydia across the table, placed at Alec’s left hand while Magnus awaits his right. And it is distressing to him, how charming she is, given the way he cannot seem to control his feelings for her strapping boyfriend. But that’s just the story of his life, he supposes – always wanting the exact thing he cannot have. And he is thinking about how he should just go ahead and write a book on the subject when Alec emerges from the kitchen with the most gorgeous turkey Magnus has ever seen in all his years on this earth.

They eat. And Magnus cannot even seem to be disturbed by the noises Raphael is making beside him because the food is even better than he could have imagined.

At one point, once he comes down from the high created by the elaborate dishes Alec has prepared, he realizes rather blindingly that their knees are pressed up against one another’s. And he is not positive how long that has been going on, but now that he notices it, he cannot seem to get his mind off of it.

He is itching to move, to rub his knee along Alec’s, which is a ridiculous thing to want. But before he can thoroughly chastise himself for being such a remarkable idiot, Alec stretches his right leg out.

He knows that it means nothing, that Alec has very long legs and people with very long legs sometimes need to stretch their very long legs out so as not to lose circulation entirely. But he cannot seem to convince himself that his own actions mean nothing when he raises his foot to place it on the other side of Alec’s leg, the inside. Because as much as he tries to rationalize that he is just stretching out as well, he knows better.

Alec seems to respond to it, though. He’s looking down to his left now, talking with his sister who is sitting just beside his terrifyingly charming girlfriend, but his body is reacting to Magnus’ presence, that much he can tell as he moves his leg slightly so that his foot is hooked around Magnus’ ankle.

He uses the leverage to tug in, bending his knee slightly so that Magnus’ leg is essentially wrapped around his, pulling him in so that his stomach is now pressed into the side of the table. And it is awkward and a little painful, given the angle, but he almost has his leg draped over Alec’s thigh and so he cannot seem to find it in himself to care about anything else.

There are so many things he wants right now: An empty room, a green light, a sane grasp on the situation before him. But all he has is the slight way Alec’s leg is shaking where it’s still pressed up against his, the light flush of pink crawling up Alec’s neck, just behind his ears, and the way his own heart is pounding so furiously inside his chest that all he can hear is blood rushing in his ears like a flood.

His mind slips from him entirely, images rushing in just like his blood. Alec in the locker room, topless and sweaty. Alec in his hotel room, sleep mussed hair and just a pair of boxer briefs. Alec in the dim light of the closet, lips slightly parted, eyes dazed and wanting. And it makes him want to scream, want to drag Alec down the hall to whichever room is the one with the bed and demand an explanation for this. For entwined legs and faint blushing and the way his fingers has twisted around Magnus’ for the span of a breath.

Magnus wants.

But that is all fantasy; it is all firmly in his head, the single place it belongs. Because until Alec says something, makes a move, does something more than flirting vaguely at the edges, Magnus has to operate under the assumption that he is in a relationship with another person. That he is not interested. As that is simply how this works.

Alec is his captain. He is his teammate. His linemate. And hopefully his friend. But until Magnus gets some sort of verbal confirmation, that is as far as it goes and he knows it. And so he will wait, will stuff his mouth full of comfort food and bite down the words that want to spill out of him and wait because despite how long he hasn’t known him, there is one thing Magnus is absolutely certain of.

Alexander Lightwood is the type of person that is well worth the wait.

[shawnallenblog]

The Boys of Fall

This could be a bitter pill to swallow, so buckle up.

I want to shake you, I want you to think -- just give me two minutes of your time after this video. This video is going to stir up some tremendously deep and fond memories for many, some old emotions, feelings and memories of youth, yearning of days gone by -- herein lies part of the problem, we want those same things for our kids. We have made this game part of the American way, part of our families and lives --but, is it worth it ? Only you can decide, but, should it really be your decision?

When I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass I'm back in my helmet, cleats, and shoulder pads Standing in the huddle, listening to the call Fans going crazy for the boys of fall. They didn't let just anybody in that club Took every ounce of heart and sweat and blood To get to wear those game-day jerseys down the hall The kings of the school, man, we're the boys of fall.    -Kenny Chesney  

Do you like to take risks ? How about high percentage risks ?  What about high percentage risks with a part of your body that you cannot fix ? No, I am not talking about taking up juggling chainsaws or free soloing the 2500 foot shear cliff face of El Sendero Luminoso.  What if I asked you if you are willing to take on those high percentage risks, with a part of the body that one cannot fix, and put that part on your child? 

Here is the problem -- I see things.  On a weekly basis I would bet, I see people come in with actual physical problems that strongly appear to be related to a minimal traumatic brain injury weeks, months, years and sometimes decades ago. This sadly sometimes includes poor kids who clearly had a minor head injury in the past few weeks.  I see things, I see sad things, preventable things.  Mind you, not all things are preventable, we must move on through life and things happen in life that are out of our control, but we can at the very least control these higher percentage risks in our children.  However, the question that haunts me, the one I do not understand is, why are some taking on these known higher percentage risks -- with their kids.  I am not judging, I just do not understand. 

I think some of this story is about denial, a sort of cognitive dissonance. Let me share a story from Jared Diamond's book "Collapse" to explain this phenomenon a bit clearer.

"consider a narrow river valley below a high dam, such that if the dam burst, the resulting flood of water would drown people for a considerable distance downstream. When attitude pollsters ask people downstream of the dam how concerned they are about the dam's bursting, it's not surprising that fear of a dam burst is lowest far downstream, and increases among residents increasingly close to the dam. Surprisingly, though, after you get just a few miles below the dam, where fear of the dam's breaking is found to be highest, concern then falls off to zero as you approach closer to the dam! That is, the people living immediately under the dam, the ones most certain to be drowned in a dam burst, profess unconcern. That's because of psychological denial: the only way of preserving one's sanity while looking up every day at the dam is to deny the possibility that it could burst."

I believe this denial is a little of what is going on today when it comes to head injuries in our children, in a day and age where we know more, we know better, we understand the tremendous risks. This is hard stuff to take in, it somehow rattles and challenges us because it puts cracks in the foundations of our life, in our memories, in our feelings and emotions of our youth -- the same good stuff we want for our children.  Humans make excuses for the choices that serve us best. It's human nature to dodge the hard painful things that once defined us

So lets get down to some facts.

From the Nauman Purdue football study: “The worst hit we’ve seen was almost 300 Gs,” Nauman said in reference to the G- forces of a football tackle. A soccer player “heading” a ball experiences an impact of about 20 Gs.“  So, how many Gs would 20 headers create ? How about 30 sub-maximal football tackles, in a week of game and practice? You can do the math, the numbers are there.  How large do these numbers get through a week of games and practice?  What are they over a whole season? The latest facts of the matter are that it is no longer about a single event, it is about the constantly rising odometer of impacts such as the Purdue Football Study found. And, I will show you information in a moment that reveals that it doesn't even need to be head impacts to up the odometer.

Concussions have been now shown to cause abnormalities in brain and motor functioning. These issues can last long after perceived clinical recovery. "Recent work suggests subtle deficits in neurocognition may impair neuromuscular control and thus potentially increase risk of lower extremity musculoskeletal injury after concussion.”  This is just the tip of the iceberg. How about the more serious stuff, the seizures, inability to sleep, memory loss, difficulty thinking, dizziness, vision problems, vomiting, depression, headaches, anxiety, speech problems, coordination problems, and then what about the big one, CTE.  CTE stands for Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, a progressive degenerative disease that some studies suggest begins ramping up about 10 years down the road if enough cumulative trauma has occurred. The problem lies with our inability to know how much, or how little, one needs to sustain to begin this terrifying brain degenerative disease. 

Some of our current society continues to ignore the immense long lasting effects of head injuries, even minimal ones. We continue to allow young developing brains to partake in football, soccer, and other jarring sports. Yes, we cannot live in a vacuum, but we can live in awareness and wise choices.

Facts:  The 2 year Purdue Study of high school football players suggested that concussions are likely caused by many hits over time and not from a single blow to the head, as previously believed. “Over the two seasons we had six concussed players, but 17 of the players showed brain changes even though they did not have concussions,” Talavage said. “The most important implication of the new findings is the suggestion that a concussion is not just the result of a single blow, but it’s really the totality of blows that took place over the season,” said Eric Nauman. “Most clinicians would say that if you don’t have any concussion symptoms you have no problems,” said Larry Leverenz, an expert in athletic training and a clinical professor of health and kinesiology. “However, we are finding that there is actually a lot of change, even when you don’t have symptoms.”

“New research into the effects of repeated head impacts on high school football players has shown changes in brain chemistry and metabolism even in players who have not been diagnosed with concussions and suggest the brain may not fully heal during the offseason.” stated Emil Venere.  “We are finding that the more hits you take the more you change your brain chemistry, the more you change your brain’s ability to move blood to the right locations,” Nauman said. By now there are those of you reading this with heavily sweating palms. You played football or hockey, soccer or lacrosse, or had a sport-unrelated concussion, maybe several. You remember it, kind of, or the many -- sort of.   You sweat now, wondering what your future will hold for you. Will you be as statistic ? How many more years do you have before that first "apparent senior moment"?  Will everything be alright ? Is it CTE or am I just getting older? One has to wonder, and that is no way to go through life. This is the chainsaw juggling act again, do we need to take on such risks ?   Why do we knowingly welcome our children into this potentially life changing brethren?  Why must we offer them that same wonderment and worry as their years go by ? No longer can we remain in denial and lean on cognitive dissonance as acceptable reasons for our avoidance to act and protect our children.  Our answer to our children cannot be, " sorry son, we didn't know any better" -- because now, we do.

- Shawn

These head injuries are complicated cases which I cannot take on yet, I am not smart enough yet, this is too complicated a problem.  I refer these cases out to my tribe of neuro specialists from The Carrick Institute who specialize in putting these brains back together. Watch this video, my mentors, my teachers. As a parent or patient, you do have options.

Biomechanical Correlates of Symptomatic and Asymptomatic Neurophysiological Impairment in High School Football Evan L. Breedlove, BS1,Thomas M. Talavage, PhD2,3,Meghan Robinson, BS2, Katherine E. Morigaki, MS ATC4,Umit Yoruk, BS3, Larry J. Leverenz, PhD ATC4 , Jeffrey W. Gilger, PhD5, Eric A. Nauman, PhD1,2,6

'Deviant brain metabolism' found in high school football players

Frequent soccer ball 'heading' may lead to brain injury. Albert Einstein College of Medicine of Yeshiva University

[goldhirsch]

                                                    to-day will die to-morrow;                                                  time stoops to no man’s lure...

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

      a twenty-three year old, jewish, french-canadian entering his junior year at lockwood double majoring in human physiology and psychology with hopes of becoming a professional physical therapist in the nhl, a path inspired by his own struggle (and continued struggle) to physically and mentally recover from a serious injury ; plays defense for the men’s ice hockey team and was named the captain for this season ; a gentle jock most people would consider the mom friend of the group, though he has experienced a deeply tragic loss and has plenty that he still keeps close to his chest.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

( general tw for a bit of mental instability / depression ; this will likely be alluded to in threads as well )

— jason was born jason cadoc cloutier in gatineau, qc but that didn’t last all that long. by the time he was two, his father was out of the picture and he and his mother took back her maiden name of goldhirsch. it was for the BEST, really. jason never really missed his father, hadn’t been old enough to miss him and his mother was a rock and his idol. when he was nine, his mother met a new man and eventually they married and moved to saguenay where he would spend the latter part of his childhood growing up.

— his mother signed him up for hockey when he started to get too rambunctious for a single mother to handle, and he took to the ice like all good canadian parents hope their children will. it also became a critical bonding point with his stepfather as well when he entered the picture.

— his talent on the ice was undeniable, no generational talent by any means, but he was extremely good at what he did. it started becoming more obvious as he hit bantam and then midget levels, eventually getting drafted 10th overall to the rouyn-noranda huskies of the quebec major junior hockey league ( qmjhl ) in the 2014 qmjhl draft. it was then that the whispers started and that tiny percentage of hope at the pipedream that was the nhl started to grow. there he played for two years, establishing himself as a top-pair defenseman by his second season despite his young age. that season ( 2015-16 ) they won the regular season title in the qmjhl and went on to play for the memorial cup though ultimately they lost. that off-season, he was taken 16th overall by arizona in the 2016 nhl entry draft ( sry jakob chychrun ). he returned to the huskies the season after being drafted to continue to develop.

( begin car accident & death & injury tw )

— his third season with the huskies was off to a strong start. by february, he was already setting career highs in points for the season & was gaining ‘defensive maturity’, and the team was on pace for another regular season title. they were gearing up for a deep run in playoffs when disaster struck. on the bus for a set of away games, the ride started like any other until a tractor trailer t-boned the bus causing it to flip several times. the bus crumpled like a soda can. jason’s memory of the moment is still pretty fuzzy ; that’s probably for the best. the result of the crash could only be described as carnage : too many dead, others critically injured. jason had been at the front of the bus talking to one of the coaches when the collision happened — that probably saved his life and allowed him to escape with relatively minimal injuries, despite shattering his lower left leg and fracturing his right.

( end tw )

— news of the crash shook the hockey community, the huskies decimated and season obviously over. jason faced months of physical therapy and grappled with the idea he may never skate again and the repercussions of that on his lifelong dream to play in the nhl, on top of the grief at the loss of so many teammates he’d come to see as BROTHERS.

— he remembers little about those months, even less than he does the crash, but he knows that was without a doubt the lowest point in his life. they put a metal rod in his right femur and another in his left tibia, but it wasn’t the physical aspect he struggled the most with, but the mental. his physical recovery could be described as a miracle. he was driven to prove his doctors wrong, to make a full recovery and play again — and come end of summer, he could even skate again and he did, but in the absence of a million doctor’s and physical therapy appointment, the mental aspect reared up and proved to be much harder to overcome. first it was the nightmares, then it was the shaking in his hands even before he stepped foot on the ice, worst of all was the panic attack after he dropped the puck at iamgold arena on opening night to symbolize new beginnings or some shit : the memories, the guilt, the pain… he couldn’t play again. how could he ??

— he retreated back into himself, picked up some menial and mind numbing minimum wage job at tim hortons if only to get his mind off things and him out of his house per his mother’s pushing. more push and pull with his mother finally came to a head and he conceded to therapy, which slowly and non-linearly eventually did start to help. he went for walks in the cold, crisp dawn and eventually thinking about hockey didn’t hurt so much. winter faded back into spring. the first anniversary of the crash passed painfully. summer arrived in all her bright glory. and in those weeks, those months, jason truly started to piece himself back together ( not just physically ) and a new path for himself slowly revealed itself.

— jason had always been smart enough, doing decent in school but college had never been at his forefront, even with a mother who was a professor. but now it was like it was the only option forward, a new opportunity, and a new path to journey down. he prepared his applications, labored over his essay ( a small talent for memoir revealing itself ), and then submitted his applications and waited. he was rejected by a few, accepted by more, and then came the acceptance notification from lockwood university and a phone call from their men’s hockey coach. players from the chl ( from professional leagues aka leagues where players receive pay or a stipend ) aren’t typically allowed to play in the ncaa, but they could get an exception for him and his circumstances. he eventually accepted his offer from lockwood, though he said a pretty strongly worded no to the hockey team.

— but the thought had been put back into his head, and with his therapist urging him to face his fears and get back on the horse or some shit, jason did finally start seriously skating again. and he eventually found that beneath that compressed pain and guilt, he truly just missed the sport and even though his lifelong dream was hardly feasible anymore, he missed it in his life. hockey had been everything to him once, and he had to find who he was without it — but hockey was still integral, still important, something he wanted and not just because it was all he knew.

— lockwood’s coach was persistent, though jason was hardly willing to make any commitment, he finally did take up the offer to come to the first week of pre-season summer practices. they say a lot of things are like riding a bike, but for jason getting back into hockey and the game was just like tapping into those years and years old instinct and muscle memory. soon enough summer was ending, classes were starting, and two years after he last played an official season, jason goldhirsch had finally found a new team.

— and the rest, as they say, is history.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂.

— jason lives in a rented off-campus house a three minute walk away from the hockey arena, which makes it the perfect place to stay when you consider all those morning skates and practices. he lives with three of his teammates ( 4 of them living there altogether ), all fellow juniors and seniors. the house has been “passed down” through ( aka continuously rented by ) several classes of lockwood men’s hockey team members and is often the hub for all team parties, making it known somewhat unofficially around campus as the hockey house. ( see the snapchat tab on jason’s theme to get the vibe.... honestly they’re dumb and stoopid ).

— he lived in the dorms for his freshman and sophomore year, but opted for the house as he wanted a real kitchen that wasn’t shared with like... the entire building or whatever.

— he also owns a black cat named kraken, a token from his healing process after the accident ; an emotional support animal who’d been critical in that first year after, originally prescribed to help him with insomnia and ensuing nightmares. she’s also quite fond of water, something jason is quite entertained by it. kraken’s emotional support aspect has waned a little as more time has passed and jason has begun to heal, though he still takes solace in her company. she’ll often perch on his shoulders while he does homework and sleeps with him at night. she still aids him through panic attacks and will wake him at night if she senses him in distress. this cat adores him and you can tell.

— jason watches the sun rise every day without fail unless he’s completely passed out. it’s both a reminder that each day isn’t given and a homage to those who no longer are around to see it rise.

— he doesn’t own an awful lot, and though he might try to pass it off as ‘ minimalism ’ the truth is there isn’t an awful lot in his room to personalize it. he does have a few plants in his room though, because he likes the idea of taking care of something and it gives him a sense of control ( more on this later ).

— his hands don’t shake as much as they used to, though now it’s usually a precursor to a panic attack. he’s tried to take that in stride as much as he can, in an attempt to prevent or mitigate them as much as possible.

— he’s fluent in québécois french bastard french as well as english given he spent his entire life in quebec before coming to maine for college. he’s “accentless” in both languages having grown up speaking both. he is also jewish like his mother, can speak halting yiddish and could survive speaking german if he really had to. a close friend has also been teaching him swiss german.

— however, jason has struggled with his faith the past few years ; the tragedy of the crash has shaken his idea of a higher power. however, he still participates and enjoys the sense of community that comes with faith. this is something that’s also been picked apart pretty meticulously in his therapy sessions.

— attends counseling / therapy biweekly or at least every month still. though the accident is quite a few years in the past now, jason still struggles at times. healing is a slow and non-linear process and he is no different.

— he doesn’t like coffee, but he drinks hot chocolate out of a tim hortons thermos for Clout.

— he acts like he’s impervious to the cold even though he isn’t. a bitch refuses to wear more than the hoodie. but to be fair he did grow up in sagueney.

— his skills in the kitchen are actually quite impressive. he can cook very well and enjoys cooking for his friends, which comes as a surprise to some. he often finds cooking to be “productive procrastination.” that being said, mediocre at baking at best unless it’s boxed brownies.

— also he is pescatarian and keeps a pretty lax form of kosher, though being pescatarian in general cuts down on the complexity ( eg. keeping diary and meats separate ). for him it’s mostly avoiding shellfish and other non-scaly seafood, and isn’t terribly strict on eggs and diary products being kosher. he does keep all his cooking things in his own cupboard and won’t let others use them if they’re cooking meat. he isn’t against cooking things with meat for others, though he still doesn’t use pork ( sry no bacon, friends ) and often still keeps meat and dairy products separate.

— his favorite takeout food is tofu pad thai ; his favorite to cook is salmon and asparagus

— smells…. cold ?? think pine trees covered in snow.

— jason has a knack for languages and is learning swiss german from his friend sebastian who he met at the u18 world juniors in switzerland. they have a friendship they’ve kept ever since. it’s not uncommon to hear him on the phone stumbling through conversation in swiss german.

— he’s a bit claustrophobic. it’s something he supposes surfaced in the aftermath of the attack, this extends to buses and planes and probably the reason he dislikes flying so much. he hates the feeling of being trapped or the sensation that he could be trapped — perhaps tied to the rising importance of control in his life. no one lock him in a closet, i think he’d freak out.

— he reads a decent amount, a newer post-accident development. prior, he used to sleep on the lengthy bus rides, but he finds it difficult to do so after the accident. he also found his mind still tended to wander when he watched movies or shows, therefore he’s ended up reading quite a bit, any and all subjects — some pertaining to his studies, plenty that don’t. he owns a kindle paperwhite that he doesn’t travel without.

— he is a cancer ( JUNE 21st, summer solstice baby ) and i read this one cancer analyzation thingy and it was like “ dislikes : strangers, criticism of mom, and revealing personal life ” and i just want to say that’s…. spot on.

— while he’s almost always in attendance at parties, it’s more to keep an eye on his friends than to really participate himself. it’s not uncommon for him to nurse the same one or two bottles of beer throughout the entire night. at the same time he’s not exactly a downer and definitely doesn’t look down on those who have fun ; he’ll just have his fun sober — ironically, this may tie into his need for control, despite the fact he knows that getting drunk could also maybe numb the pain.

— human physiology ( the study of the human body ) & psychology ( the study of the mind and behavior ) : it seems like an unlikely combination of majors, but during the year and a half of re-calibrating his life and coming to the realization he needed a NEW dream, jason learned a few things ; one of them being that recovery is as much mental as it is physical. he chosen these two majors in hopes of becoming a professional physical therapist someday. he hopes he can take his own struggle to return from injury physically and mentally and turn it into a source of empathy for him in the future.

— jason is a defenseman and was recently named the captain of the team for the upcoming season. at the height of his elite prospect status, he was a highly coveted offensive defenseman with incredible skating skills and a hockey IQ off the charts. he could drive a game from the blueline and break up the other team’s offensive plays before they even happened. he is based ( play-wise ) on a combination of cale makar and mario ferraro. post-accident jason is not quite the same player, though no one hardly expected him to be after his long hiatus. his agility and skating ability suffered the greatest, though he has slowly been working at getting that back over the past couple years and is getting to a reasonably comparable point. he’ll likely never get to the place he was. it’s also a huge issue of if his body could handle the fatigue and stress of a heavily athletic life ; it’s alright for now, but professional is almost certainly out of the question. his hockey iq bounced back the quickest, and in the wake of the accident, he’s seen himself step into more of a teaching and mentoring role, part of what makes him a good captain. his teammates respect him greatly, and not just because of what he’s been through. ( detailed timeline of the teams he’s been on HERE. ).

— jason uses a CAGE instead of a plexiglas fishbowl or hybrid shield because the two latter make him feel super claustrophobic. definitely misses the freedom that comes with #visorlife which he’s familiar with from his last year in the chl, but them’s the rules. ( for those who aren’t familiar, the american collegiate hockey at all levels requires full facial coverings regardless of age, unlike professional and national teams which allow the use of a visor once the player turns 18 ). 

— also while we’re on ncaa hockey, there’s also super super strict rules against fighting which include automatic game ejections and subsequent game suspensions. after your first fight of the season you’re suspended for the next game, after your second fight of the season you’re suspended for the next two games, and so on — considering there’s only a maximum 34 of games in a college season ( not including conference tournaments and the ncaa tournament ), you very much want to avoid game suspensions. this means fighting is actually quite rare in the ncaa. ( but this doesn’t mean there still aren’t scrums around the net or after the whistle : pushing and shoving and chirping and yelling and general feistiness, y’know ).

— jason knows he’s quite lucky to be alive and to have returned to hockey, but part of him laments that he was never able to participate in the world junior championship ( the main one aka u20 ) and get an opportunity to play for gold there. it’s definitely the dream of everyone who plays youth hockey in canada, and jason would have likely been named to the team in 2017 and/or 2018 if the accident hadn’t happened. it’s not something he dwells on, but during his necessary time off to recovery seeing wjc highlights everywhere certainly took a toll on him ( though looking back now he can see it helped in his healing process ).

— he realized he was bisexual when he was sixteen, freshly moved away from home and living with a billet family. everything felt so open and free and he was able to explore a few things. this is a fact he’s kept mostly to himself in the years that followed, at first concerned with his future in the nhl, and then just because he’s had bigger things to worry about since then. it’s not exactly a secret now, though he’s not openly vocal about it and is a pretty private person in general. you might see some guys leaving his room occasionally or him getting chatted up by all sexes at parties, people can make of that whatever they want, though likely the default assumption as it is for most male athletes is that he is straight. in general, he isn’t all that interested in pursuing romantic relationships as he recognizes he’s still not emotionally healed and prepared for that.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

— he’d always been one to know just what others needed — even before the accident. that life event maybe nudged a few more buried traits forward though, replacing the urge to use that knowledge for his own gain and instead use it to HELP others. the past two years have seen jason grow into a full-fledged mom friend : always the most sober at parties, always the one with the bandaids, always the one leaving aspirin and water on his friends’ desks. no one’s really sure of everything he keeps in his backpack, but it does always seem that he has exactly what someone needs at exactly the right time. a running joke on the hockey team that they call him “mom” ?? probably alsdkjflaskdjf.

— it’s not really surprising jason was named captain of the team, either. sure, he was an inspiring story, and sure, he was still pretty decent at hockey even with two metal rods in his legs, but the coaches saw more than just that when they gave him the C. it was the guy in the locker room with always the right thing to say second intermission still down two, the guy on the bench who knew how to get a rookie who deflected an own goal his confidence back, the guy who stayed late to help the backup goalie solve the problem with his blocker side save. captaincy isn’t all about scoring goals and fancy dekes : it’s about heart and moral fiber and leading by example ; there’s a reason it’s not always the best player on the team that gets the captaincy.

— since the accident, jason has become far more controlling. some people might take a life or death situation like that as a sign to live in the moment, but jason is not one of them. he still feels his life spun so far out of his control in that year and a half and never wants to experience that again. because of that he controls as much as he possibly can, from his appearance, to the way people perceive him, to the confines of his suite and dorm. as a result, he’s a neat freak, always having things meticulously organized. when he’s stressed he cleans and organizes — it can be his stuff, it can be a friend’s, it can be a complete stranger’s. deep down he knows there’s not much he could’ve done to prevent the accident, but that doesn’t stop him from at least trying to create the illusion he can control everything in his life.

— a facet of control is perhaps an over-protective nature. he was wary of getting close to people upon entering lockwood, but keeping people at arm’s length never was his strong suite. he cares very deeply for his friends and teammates, and has an almost irrational fear of losing them. it’s a fine line between control and being willing to do anything to keep the people he loves safe.

— jason still struggles with survivor’s guilt. the fact that a simple choice of just where he sat on the bus determined his life or death completely freaks him out. the gravity of his loss, the empty spaces left by so many absent friends, didn’t hit all at once — it was gradual until it was a stifling weight he feels like he can’t bare some days. he’s still in therapy to deal with his internal thoughts, though it was originally a huge struggle to get him to go. besides his therapist, he doesn’t like to let many other people privy to his thoughts, especially those surrounding the accident. he won’t tell people what happened, though some may be aware from the news or just word of mouth.

— it’s been a long time since jason has given much attention to matters of the heart, but in love, jason is just as caring and protective as he is with his friends ( truly just “two” by sleeping at last to a T 😔😔😔 ), perhaps even to a high degree. some part of him is driven by that survivor’s guilt that still struggles with the idea of being happy, but he also strongly feels that he just isn’t ready to date or enter a relationship again. he is someone who values his friendships greatly and is more than content with that — and some no-strings-attached sex if it comes to it. falling in love, though, he’s starting to think that isn’t for him and honestly he has no interest in making an attempt to figure out if it is. however, some view jason as a bit of a “player,” but the truth is lesbians simply flock to him for protection from campus creeps.

— despite all these internal thoughts, jason still manages to present himself in a fairly positive manner. he’s good at pretending he’s fine, already been one to keep his true emotions close to his chest even before the accident though it might not have been obvious to see given his overall friendliness. he doesn’t want his tragedy to define him, though it has undeniably changed his life.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

— 6′2″ ( 193 lbs ), a pretty strong build

— tan skin, dark brown hair, trimmed short on the sides and styled longer on top like SO.

— STYLE : jason is practically a walking cliche of male college athlete style. he tends to prioritize function and comfort over looks and boy does it show. his day-to-day look doesn’t fluctuate much : a never-ending revolving door of fitted t-shirts and athletic shorts that occasionally touch on the side of slightly too short and tight, slimcut joggers and pants with sweatshirts when it gets cold. in general, he doesn’t own that many clothes, and ones he does often look quite similar to each other. his outwear of choice is definitely just hoodies all the time. if he’s wearing a real jacket, it really must be cold. or he’s sick.

— he wears a rectangular silver pendent on a chain almost always. it belonged to a particularly close friend & teammate he lost in the crash.

— tattoos : lit candle ( inside right wrist ), stag with a crown ( left outside shoulder ), jack g’s butterfly ( outside left forearm )

— he has several small scars, most from glass and metal during the crash, as well as one on his right thigh and lower left leg from his surgeries. on occasion he will walk with a slight limp, especially when he’s tired or it’s especially cold and damp out.

— PINTEREST BOARD

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒:

— PRONUNCIATION : JAY-son GOLD-hersh

— NICKNAMES : j or jay, hershey ( hockey )

— BIRTHDAY : june 21, 1998 ( cancer )

— LANGUAGES : english ( first language ), québécois french ( second language ), somewhat conversational german, bits of yiddish, some swiss german

— LABELS : the protector, the helping hand, the broken dove

— EXTRACURRICULARS : men’s ice hockey ( defense, captain, #21 )

— EDUCATION : psychology & human physiology ( lockwood university, in progress ), high school diploma ( 2015 )

— SEXUALITY : bi ( not common knowledge )

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

WANTED CONNECTIONS TAKEN CONNECTIONS

𝐎𝐎𝐂

       hello everyone !! i’m ollie, 22, est, they/them pronouns. super excited to get things going here !!