#march omgcp

[ohyoufool]

jacks women’s March madness NCAA bracket gets pinned to the espn homepage as a “celebrity pick” or whatnot which is cute. Yay! Go Jack! Big Internet Moment! Everyone Is So Proud!

Meanwhile Bitty is sleeping with the pillow over his head because Jack has been up at 3am hunched over the computer for the last WEEK muttering “what….. oh my god…… amazing….” at Caitlyn Clark’s stat line and tape.

and lest we forget! Bitty is a creature of the internet. you KNOW he would be keeping up on the sedona prince drama. he's been lowkey following her since the pandemic! how could he not! she exposed the inequities of march madness ncaa basketball, rose to fame as a queer icon, and had a messy public lesbian breakup. BITTY WOULD KNOW ABOUT IT.

so I would imagine dinner conversations at their house during this march are basically heated debates about actual players and teams qualifications and trying to weigh tara vanderveer's experience as a coach versus upstart programs. AND you know they are both lowkey rooting for TCU because of the gay lore of it all

[porcupine-girl]

Someone on a discord server asked if your blorbos would celebrate the Ides of March and you know what SMH would ABSOLUTELY have an Ides of March kegster complete with a cake bust of Julius Caesar for guests to take chunks out of with plastic butter knives.

Togas required for admittance, obviously - except for Jack, who tries to use this as an excuse not to attend (“Look, I’m not wearing a yoga, I’m not allowed downstairs”) but finally gets bullied into wearing a laurel wreath for a bit.

[bittysfoodbaby]

i'm just realizing i haven't posted any original content since the spring 😭 maybe i'll post that radio station au soon but there's no fics just lore dump 😭

[montrealmadison]

what is UP party people. it's been a long time since our last kegster, huh? little bit too long, if you ask me.

ransom and holster manifested themselves in my apartment last weekend to help me plan the most righteous of celebrations for the fact that this blog just hit 400 followers. in order to do that, i’m opening fic requests from now until the end of march! i’d like to aim for these to top out right around 1,000 words, but i have been known to, uh, ramble. so we'll see if i stick to that.

if you wanna get down to motherfucking clown with us, you gotta follow the bylaws:

who are you bringing upstairs with you? 😏 pick an omgcp character and/or a ship (can be romantic or platonic, whatever floats your boat!) that you'd like to see a fic about.

any wellie worth their salt knows that the vibe is the most important part of a kegster, so we gotta make sure the playlist is on point. pick a number (1 through 80) so that i have a song to write to.

picking numbers between 1 and 40 will get you something off of ransom's certified bangers mix (choose these if you want more fun, fluffy, happy vibes). picking numbers between 41 and 80 means we'll switch it up a little to bitty's chill cleanup mix (go here if you want angst, hurt/comfort, or bittersweet vibes).

tub juice is already mixed up for your, um… enjoyment? but if you're looking for something specific to drink (smut, an au, kent parson going to therapy) you can include as much detail as you want in your prompt. otherwise, all you need to include are your characters of choice and your number.

submit everything through my ask box and i'll post your request within a week! anons must be signed so i know who to thank. if you have an ao3 handle, please include it so i can gift it to you properly when i post it there.

any questions, please let me know! i look forward to getting nursey down off the roof again celebrating with y'all this month. ❤️

[unacaritafeliz]

we know lardo would sweep so...

[pongpalace]

@omgcpwinterextravaganza | december 4; midnight snowball fights

stumbling with snowballs  [ao3]

tw: dry heaving/mention of drunk vomiting, but nothing too graphic beyond a character feeling like they gotta throw up but then never throwing up 

The sounds of the party don’t follow them down the street as March and April make their way back to the volleyball house. March thinks that might be because the snow that’s been steadily falling all day dampens the sounds beyond their breathing that puffs out into the cool air but she’s also leaning heavily on April, having forgotten how well the bright green of the tub juice hides the alcohol, so really, what does she know?

It could be a romantic walk, with the snow still coming down in soft clumps to settle in their hair without melting and the street lights cast an orange, surreal glow on everything that makes it feel like they’re in alone in the world. Really though, it’s a more dangerous walk than anything with how hard March is concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, wishing desperately that she hadn’t stayed to get her ass kicked at the beer pong table for a second time. She’s got a flight home in the morning that she’s really going to regret being hungover on.

“I can’t believe I got talked—” March pauses to hiccup “—into drinking tub juice again.” She stops walking to cover her mouth while she swallows thickly, slightly concerned that she might throw up in the fresh snow of some random yard. When nothing comes up, March lets out a deep breath through her nose.

“I’m not,” April says. She keeps walking, either not noticing that March has stopped or choosing to keep going because her beer jacket isn’t nearly as thick as March’s. “You’re just a sucker for bright colours.”

March wants to respond, but a gust of wind picks up suddenly, causing her to flinch back to tuck her chin into her collar  to save herself from the wind’s bite. The movement was a bad idea; suddenly her head is spinning even faster, and her stomach rolls unpleasantly. She’s pretty sure she’s going to lose whatever is still sloshing around there so March assumes the best throw up position, bracing her hands on her knees for balance, and glares down at the snow pile while she waits for something to either come up or the nausea to pass.

“Really?” April asks, still standing about 10 feet from March, like she has any room to judge since she got a piggyback home from the Halloween kegster after getting intimately acquainted with the front bushes of the Haus.

March flips her off. She gags, curling her spine, but nothing comes up. She coughs a few times and spits out the sour taste of vodka and tequila that that brings up. March stays bent over for another minute or so, breathing in deeply through her mouth and then out through her nose between dry heaves. Eventually her stomach starts to settle down and the world stops spinning so quickly.

“Are you done?” April calls. “It’s fucking freezing.”

March considers the question. The urge to vomit is gone, having disappeared somewhere between one retch and the next, just leaving the beginnings of a headache that’s a reminder that she’ll need to drink lots of water when she gets to her room. March isn’t sure she completely trusts the lack of nausea though, so she straightens up slowly, just in case dinner decides to make a quick reappearance.

She gets hit in the face with a snowball for her troubles.

“What the fuck!?” March sputters, rocking back on her heels to catch herself. The movement isn’t as jarring as it could’ve been—her stomach doesn’t decide to empty itself—but there’s snow up her nose and dripping down her neck and into her collar. She shakes her sleeves over her hands so can wipe what’s stuck to her eyelashes to see April’s shit eating grin.

“I hate you so much,” March grumbles. She lefts a shoulder so she can rub most of the snow off her face, feeling feels unfortunately sober in the moment. The shock of the cold chased the last of the alcohol out of her system, so she doesn’t think hard about ducking down to grab a handful of snow and rush down the sidewalk to get April back.

Unfortunately, her body hasn’t caught onto March’s rediscovered soberness as quickly and she stumbles. April is half turned away, having correctly expected retaliation and trying to run away, so March falls onto her legs. They hit the ground hard; April flat on her back while March falls forward onto her stomach, just barely missing jamming her chin into April’s hipbone.  

For the second time that night, their breathing is the only sound March can hear, while they both try to catch it. The snow is still falling. March can feel it on the small of her back where her sweater has ridden up, and she’s start to feeling nauseous again as the hangover sets in early, so she hides her face in April’s stomach, rubbing her face in the soft t-shirt April wears under her flannel.

“You good?” April asks softly, shifting a little under March. The snow is probably uncomfortably cold against her back, if how it’s seeping into the knees of March’s jeans is any indication, but it’s mostly April’s fault they’re in this position anyways so she doesn’t move. March lies on top of April for another thirty seconds before groaning and pushing herself back onto her knees. April rolls to her feet more gracefully than March thinks she should be able to manage right now, but takes the hand that April offers up, keeping a hold of it so she can wrap an arm around April’s shoulders when they’re both standing. They start back down the sidewalk again.

“I’m gonna be super pissed if I get a cold,” April says.

“You laughed and threw snow at me in my time of need,” March huffs.

April lets out a snort that turns into a giggle, which then grows into a full belly laugh. She has to stop and brace herself on her knees, an imitation of March’s outdoor puking position, though with much more joyful sounds coming out.

March is tempted to push her into the snow again.

She doesn’t.

She does get dibs on being the little spoon when they get home.

It’s exactly how every night should end.

(March could do without the headache she gets when she wakes up though, but that’s probably her fault for forgetting to drink water.)

i dunno if march and april are in a relationship in this. i think it can be read either way, and i can’t decide which way i wrote it, so have fun ?

[pridetape]

wait new poll rb this and put in the tags when u joined check please fandom

[cricketnationrise]

March/April

It's a snow day. That means anything can happen right?

for @sapphicfest week 2!

[zimms]

hey besties how are we feeling about the fact that march is canonically 5'11

[birlcholtz]

omgcp wlw fic recs

i’ve been trying to seek out more wlw-focused fic and i want to spread the love, since wlw-focused fics tend to get less attention. here are 5 wlw check please fics i’ve read and enjoyed recently! if you have more recs (especially for longer fics as i haven’t found many of those), feel free to drop them in my askbox!

on your collarbone by greenbucket

3k, T, ford/shruti, established relationship with mild hurt/comfort (in the physical injury sense, the fic is pretty lighthearted)

all of your love is sunlight by asterlark

1.4k, T, march/april, confessions and getting together, very sweet

And Then I Saw Her Face by cricketnationrise

2.2k, T, ford/ofc (one of the people working at the zimbits wedding), this is partly focused on the zimbits wedding since it was written for that event but there’s still plenty of shippy content!

Let’s Get Screwed by greenbucket

5k, T, march/april, YES i’m recommending more than one fic by greenbucket these are just so good okay, this is post-march’s breakup with ransom so who’s she gonna get screwed with oOoOo

maybe even brighter by story_telling_sage

1.5k, G, ford/farmer, meet cute with a LOT of bonding over love of musical theater

and one bonus rec (bonus because it’s rated E):

Definitely A Maybe by orphan_account

4.7k, E, kate/camilla, they meet at a college reunion party, this is SUCH a niche pairing and i have to say i am sold. i’m a fan

[porcupine-girl]

Editing a fic because I'm a nerd

So, for a long time, the pronouns I used for angels while in Heaven in Pulled From Orbit (my Jack/Bitty/Larissa are fallen angels fic) have bugged me. Angels have no gender, which is a major plot point, so while Enochian may have gendered pronouns to use when talking about humans, it would definitely have an ungendered pronoun for talking about angels. I'd just been using they, but the Enochian pronoun would include a separate plural version, which you lose with singular they.

Spoken Mandarin, on the other hand, has no gendered pronouns! In writing he/she/it is 他/她/它 but it's all pronounced tā. And you pluralize it by adding 们, men.

So I have gone through the first and last chapters of Pulled From Orbit, the ones that take place in Heaven, and changed the angelic pronouns from they/them, their, and themself to ta/tamen, tade/tamende, and taziji (I did not use plural themselves anywhere but it would be tamenziji).

I've added a note in the first chapter explaining all of this, with a pronunciation guide!

I'm super proud of this fic, but it's just about my least popular OMGCP fic - I think because covid lockdown happened right when I posted the second chapter, and the first few chapters are kind of heavy, with Jack not in a great headspace, so... most of us were not in the mood to read that kind of thing. Honestly, I was not in the mood to post it! It gets super fluffy once Jack adjusts to life on earth, but you have to get through a few not-fluffy chapters to get there.

So if you haven't read this one, but are in a better place to read heavy stuff than you were in March 2020, please give it a shot! The weird pronouns are only in two chapters out of 11 I promise 😅

[bittysfoodbaby]

hi yes if anyone has very niche arts or stem related check please aus please send them my way (my asks are open too) bc i really need motivation to finish planning at least year one of the marching wellies

[pecanplease]

obscure check please ships that I think should be more popular

Jenny and Mandy

Hall and Murray

The Drunk Canadian Scientists

March and April

[jam-heathen]

I maintain that Mr. Jack’s Dad and Mr. Coach Sir should be friends. Like take up golfing together, get those names on matching shirts for the holidays to chirp their boys, have semi-regular chats type pals. I have no real evidence other than I feel it should be true, thank you for coming to my tedtalk

[parseisflat]

april and holster become friends because their friends are dating. the first time they’re invited on a double date, they only do it as a favor. they’re sitting there the whole night feeling like shit because although all four of them are bros, ransom and march are holding hands right across the table. 

march and april walk back from the double date together, neither of them really registering that no one is ending the night with their actual date. the walk home is illuminated by the streetlights and the stars, and when april shivers a little, march puts an arm around her shoulder and squeezes. “you’re so southern,” she teases. “it’s literally like, forty degrees.” april aches.

that same night, ransom crawls into holster’s bed out of fear of the ghosts (”not that they exist! ghosts aren’t real”). it’s 3 am, he’s exhausted and cranky, but he wraps an arm around ransom and holds him until he falls asleep. he wakes up with his best bro’s cheek resting on his chest, but his mind is filled with thoughts of ransom and march, ransom and march, ransom and march.

for some reason, likely masochism, the double dates continue. they walk in with their dates, and they leave with their bros.

at some point during this process, holster and april find themselves alone at a kegster.

“are we actually dating?” april says, because she’s drunk. she briefly wonders if she sounds rude, but holster just laughs in that loud booming way of his and leans against the wall.

“do you want to be?”

she bites her lip, eyes moving involuntarily to where march and ransom are making out across the room. something in holster’s face shifts, and he leans a little closer, seemingly more at ease. “you too?” he says, as quietly as quiet gets for holster.

and then she’s laughing, bordering on hysterical, because she’s had like three cups of tub juice and a few shots, and she’s at a college party with a cute boy where she could easily be hooking up and dancing and making bad decisions but instead she’s so close to crying over her best friend who may never love her back. “we’re losers,” she says, and he snorts drunkenly; it feels like a new beginning.

some days, she’ll come over to the haus to hang out with holster. they sit out on the reading room, sometimes sharing a joint, and the quietness of the roof opens up a space for them to let themselves be honest for a few hours. “is it weird that it feels worse when she tells me she loves me?” april will say, and let the silence fill the air.

holster thinks of best friend sundaes, and long weekends together in the library, and the way every time he hears someone talking about ransom it is in conjunction with himself. “not weird at all,” he says, then he reaches for the joint and their minds are buzzing with the words that don’t need to be said out loud.

eventually they stop going on double dates.

when they started... it had been fun. a little painful, but not so much that they couldn’t shove down their feelings for a couple hours and open the dam again at night when no one else was around. but after several weeks in a row of fake smiles... april’s done. she’s never been the self-sacrificing type, no matter how much she loves march, and she’s not about to start now. 

march doesn’t seem to see it the same way. “april, look at me,” she’s saying. they’re standing in her dorm, several feet apart. april’s staring at the window, scared of what would be written on her face if she made eye contact. 

“did i do something?” march is saying, and april still isn’t looking up. the sound of her heart pounding is roaring in her ears. dread is pooling slowly in her gut, enough to make her sweaty and nauseous. 

“april,” march says, visibly frustrated. “talk to me.”

april slowly tears her gaze away from the window. “holster and i aren’t even dating, march.”

march throws her hands up in the air. “then why did you even bother coming at all?”

her words are cold, jagged in the corners, and april flinches a little. “i did it for you.” she hates the slight wobble in her voice. after months of hiding successfully, all of her composure is unraveling and any plausible deniability of her being in love with march is slipping away.

march laughs derisively, and april’s heart is stuttering, trying to leap out of her chest and run away to a safe place where she can’t cut herself open and leave her secrets bare. 

“april! what does that even mean?”

something in april snaps, and she all but screams, “can’t you see? march, i’m in love with you.”

her eyes widen when she realizes what she just said. march freezes, slack-jawed. “what did you just say?” she whispers. 

april closes her eyes. fuck. “forget it,” she says. “you’re with ransom, i didn’t - i know i -”

a calloused hand come to rest on her jaw, warm and tender. she slowly opens her eyes. 

march’s forehead comes to rest on hers, and she lets their noses bump together. shakily, april lets her hand tangle in march’s hair. “april,” she’s smiling, laughing a little. 

“march,” she responds, and then she is cut off as march kisses her back to life.

a few days later, all four of them can be found at annie’s again, walking hand-in-hand with the right people this time. 

both the hockey and volleyball teams are incredibly confused when they learn the news, because they thought the double dates were just mlm wlw solidarity the entire time. ( @pecanplease )

[pongpalace]

tighter than spandex

if you wanted soft serve, you should’ve gone to dairy queen.

a playlist of strong lady voices for strong ladies to listen to at the gym, in the locker room, or hell, even on Friday nights 

listen here