#princeton tigers

[sportsourcepng]

[lightning-wyvern]

the football game stats toward the middle of the luigi fic nezzi and i are writing rn are actual stats; the penn quakers lost 17-20 to the princeton tigers in november 2024 heres proof boo penn whyd u lose u suck

[fruitbasketball]

Teaches me to have faith in a bs conference like the Ivy League again. Sister was putting up buckets on neurosurgeons 💀 would get smoked by Londynn Jones

i’m fucking PISSINGGGGGG MYSELF 😭😭😭

[jessethegoat]

Jesse spotted watching his almamater basketball team with his college friends 🥹

[bongaboi]

Princeton: 2022-23 Ivy Men's Basketball Champions

PRINCETON – Four years ago, in a version of planes, trains and automobiles that already has entered Princeton basketball lore, assistant coach Brett MacConnell discovered an obscure prospect in Newcastle, England.

That leap of faith paid off spectacularly Sunday.

The prospect, Tosan Evbuomwan, led the Tigers to the Ivy League Tournament title with a hardwood masterpiece in a 74-65 victory over Yale. Running the offense, scoring and defending the Bulldogs' top guard, the senior forward dominated as the Tigers earned their 26th NCAA Tournament berth and first since 2017.

"This means the world," Evbuomwan said. "Princeton is my home. Newcastle is my second home at this point."

He tallied 21 points, five rebounds and four assists, passing Princeton coach Mitch Henderson on the Tigers' all-time assist list. Not bad for a 6-foot-8 power forward.

"This has been a challenge with Tosan for three years, to get him to impose his physical will on the game," Henderson said. "And I thought we took strength from that this weekend. We’ll never have anyone here for a very long time who’s that good of a passer.”

On the defensive end, Evbuomwan limited Yale’s explosive sophomore John Poulakidis to 7 points on 2-of-6 shooting.

"Pretty inspiring," Princeton guard Matt Allocco said. "Everyone knows offensively Tosan is special, but today in particular I thought he was unbelievable. He’s the best player in this league on both ends. He was terrific today, willed us, carried us there.”

As a result Princeton (21-8) is going dancing for the second time under Henderson. The Tigers shared the Ivy’s regular-season crown with Yale (21-8) but got swept by the Bulldogs home and away – and also lost to them in last year’s Ivy Tourney final as well.

This was different as nearly 5,000 fans packed Jadwin Gym, making the most of Princeton’s first turn as the host of this four-team event. The Ivy League added a tournament in 2017, becoming the last Division 1 conference to do so. That year, Princeton prevailed at the Palestra and went on to push Notre Dame to the brink in the Big Dance’s opening round, falling when Devin Cannady’s 3-pointer missed the mark at the buzzer.

Getting back there has been a mission for Henderson, who played in three NCAA Tournaments as a Princeton guard from 1996-98.

“I think about it every day walking into the gym and looking at the banners…especially as an alum," Henderson said. “It’s one of the coolest things in sports.”

After the final buzzer Sunday he encountered John Thompson III, who starred at guard at Princeton before leading the Tigers to two NCAA Tournaments as a head coach. Thompson is widely associated with Georgetown, which he coached to a Final Four in 2007, but he's a Princeton man through and through.

“All is right with the world," Thompson told him.

This Tigers team, a likely No. 14 seed, has the firepower to cause trouble for some high-major. It starts with Evbuomwan, a point forward who scored 21 in Saturday’s semifinal win over Penn and was the runaway choice for tournament MVP. But there are sharpshooters too in guards Ryan Langborg (14 points vs. Yale), Allocco (15 points, 7 rebounds) and a rising-star freshman in forward Caden Pierce (12 points, 10 rebounds). Princeton's last March Madness win came in 1998, Henderson's senior year. The Tigers also stunned UCLA in an instant classic in 1996, the final triumph for legendary coach Pete Carril.

Carril died in August at age 92.

“I’ve thought about him a lot," Henderson said. "So much of what I say is him."

He said Carril would particularly have enjoyed how this Princeton squad got better as the season went on. Peaking late was a Carril specialty.

"A lot of this is honoring him," Henderson said. "He’d be very proud."

[princetonarchives]

Menu Monday: This tiger seems to be having a good time celebrating the Princeton Class of 1877's 15th reunion in 1892.

Scrapbook Collection (AC026), Box 46

The entire Menu Monday series

[kafkasapartment]

Princeton Tiger, nd. Rockwell Kent, 1882-1971.

Woodcut on wove paper.

[thewhimsyturtle]

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!  🐅 Today is the annual P-rade, when Mom wears as much orange and black as possible!  🐯🧡🖤  I got to go to the big parade with Mom several years ago, but I am staying home this year despite GRUMPing at Mom about it.  😤🐢  At least Grandmom will give me all the treats!  😋

🔙  Who remembers when Mom’s hair bow was bigger than I was?!  🎀

[zombiegangster]

V-Tiger Jet

V-Tiger Jet

[childrenofcain-if]

Alternate universe where D is a football player because I can honestly see it 😂

They'd still be FwB with MC, who's a cheerleader (I love cliches heh). But at one of their final matches, they immediately run to MC after winning and kisses them in front of everyone. I've been thinking about this a lot

the locker room smelled like a nauseating mixture of sweat and antiseptic. there was an overall nervous energy in the whole area because of the upcoming game: the biggest of the season.

yale (bulldogs) vs princeton (tigers). the oldest college football rivalry in america since 1873. truthfully though? you really did not have that as your priority at the moment.

D’s shoulders were tense as they leaned against the row of lockers, their football gear half on, half off, like they couldn’t decide if they were gearing up for the game or gearing up for this conversation with you. you stood in front of them, your arms crossed, trying to hide the way your voice wavered as you spoke.

“why are we even doing this if it doesn’t mean anything to you?” you asked, your words sharper than you’d intended. you didn’t want to sound hurt, but the cracks were already showing and you hated yourself even more for it. “you said you loved me, D. was that a joke?”

D flinched, their jaw tightening.

“it wasn’t a joke,” they muttered, not meeting your eyes. “you know it wasn’t.“

“then what the hell is this?” you gestured between the two of you, the space that felt both too close and too far apart. “why can’t you just—” you stopped, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “why can’t you just be fair to us for once?”

D ran a hand through their damp brown hair, their helmet still sitting on the bench behind them. “because it’s complicated, alright? i’m really not good at this. i don’t know how to—”

“how to what?” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “how to be with someone who actually loves you? how to let yourself care about someone? how to not be a complete asshole?”

their silence was worse than any answer they could have given. you felt the sting of it like a slap.

“forget it,” you said, your voice quieter now, resigned. “this isn’t worth it. i’m not worth it, apparently. not to you.”

“don’t say that,” D said quickly, their voice low and rough, but before they could step toward you, the door opened, and your cheer teammates poked their heads in.

“hey, come on!” one of them called, her tone light but urgent. “we’ve gotta go!”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between D and the exit. you wanted them to say something—anything—that would make you stay, that would make you believe this wasn’t just another dead end. but they didn’t.

so you left, letting the door swing shut behind you, leaving D standing there with their heart in their throat and everything unsaid on their tongue.

***

the stadium was alive in a way that almost felt sentient, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the air, through the ground, through your chest.

the cheer routine was designed to dazzle; full of sharp, explosive movements, tight formations, and splits that skimmed the edge of possibility. every count of the eight-beat rhythm had its place: a high V at one, a perfectly synchronized clap at three, a ripple of tumbling that broke apart and came back together like a flock of birds midflight.

there wasn’t room for hesitation. you had drilled it for weeks, the choreographer shouting corrections until the moves were muscle memory. your body knew what to do, even if your mind was stuck somewhere else.

somewhere else was D.

you couldn’t see them from the sidelines, not at first. the field was a mass of bodies, yale’s blue and white clashing violently with princeton’s orange and black, and it all blurred together under the floodlights.

the roar of the crowd pressed against you, a wall of sound that rattled your ribs, the kind of noise that demanded participation. you gripped your pom-poms tightly, smiling like your heart wasn’t threatening to give out, and launched into the first set of motions.

high kick. clap. shimmy. back handspring.

on the outside, you looked flawless, exactly like what the crowd wanted: all energy and excitement, no cracks in the façade. on the inside, your chest was a knot, the fight with D replaying on an endless loop in your head like a broken VHS tape.

the pyramid was next, the most complicated part of the routine. the bases braced themselves, strong and steady, while the flyers climbed onto their hands. you were in the middle, the top of the pyramid, the highest point for the crowd to see. it was a position of trust. you had to believe your teammates wouldn’t let you fall. it wasn’t something you usually thought about, but tonight, the irony cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

when you extended into the final pose, one leg straight, one bent, arms raised, your eyes landed on D for the first time.

they were in the huddle, standing tall as the team circled around them and the coach, their helmet tucked under one arm. the older man was shouting something you couldn’t hear, D’s face fierce with focus. you wanted to stay angry, but instead, you felt your chest tighten.

D was magnetic in the way they moved, their command of the team absolute. you hated how much you still wanted to be near them, how much your body betrayed you even when your heart was screaming.

the pyramid dismounted, your teammates catching you as you came down. you barely noticed the applause; you were too busy watching D jog onto the field for the first play.

***

D’S POV

D glanced toward the sideline. toward you. again.

it was ridiculous, the way you could disarm them from thirty yards away. you weren’t even looking at them. your head was bent close to one of your friend’s, your pom-poms hanging loosely in your hands. you were supposed to be listening to your captain, but D could see the faint smile on your lips, the way you kept sneaking glances toward the field like you weren’t paying attention at all.

like your eyes were searching for D.

D tore their eyes away before anyone could notice. they didn’t need their teammates teasing them about this—not right now. it was bad enough that their chest felt like it was caving in every time they saw you, bad enough that your fight before the game was still fresh in their head, your voice sharp and shaking, your words a blade sliding between their ribs.

why can’t you just be fair to us?

the truth was, they didn’t know how to. not the right way. not in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were standing naked in a room full of strangers, every scar and bruise and ugly thing about them laid bare.

you deserved better than the mess that they were. you deserved someone who didn’t flinch at the idea of love. someone who could give you everything without being afraid they’d ruin it before it began.

but even as they told themselves that, D knew they couldn’t let you go. not really. not ever.

“alright, team,” coach barked, snapping D back to the present. “this is it. princeton’s undefeated this season, but so are we. you want to be champions? prove it. show everyone you’ve got what it takes.”

the team roared their agreement, slapping helmets and clapping shoulders, the kind of camaraderie that made D feel grounded and restless all at once. they shoved their helmet on and jogged out to the field, their cleats digging into the turf, their breath coming steady and sharp.

they could do this. for the team, for the win, for yale.

no.

for you.

***

the first quarter passed in a blur of plays and hits, the kind of bone-rattling intensity that left D’s hands shaking with adrenaline. they took the snap, rolled back, dodged a tackle by inches, and launched the ball downfield.

the crowd erupted as yale’s receiver caught it just shy of the endzone, but D didn’t stop to celebrate. their eyes found you again, like a compass always pointing to their north star.

you were clapping, your pom-poms bouncing, but there was something off about your gorgeous smile. it didn’t reach your eyes, and D knew it was their fault. they’d put that ache there, and it killed them to see it.

focus. they had to focus.

***

the second quarter was worse. princeton’s defense was relentless, their linemen big enough to make D feel small—a very uncomfortable thing. every play felt like a war, every hit a reminder of how close they were to losing. the score was tied at halftime, and the locker room was a mess of noise and sweat and tension.

“get your head in the game, diaconu,” their coach snapped, pulling D aside as the team filed out. “you’re playing like you’ve got something else on your mind. whatever it is, leave it in here. got it?”

“got it,” D said, even though they didn’t.

they didn’t leave it in the locker room. they carried it back onto the field, where it sat heavy in their chest, driving them forward and holding them back all at once.

you were watching. D could feel your eyes on them every time they stepped up to the line, every time they called a play. it made them want to be better, to play harder, to show you that they weren’t just a coward who couldn’t say the words you needed to hear.

it wasn’t enough to just win. they had to earn you back.

***

YOUR POV

you watched in horror as princeton’s linebacker, a hulking person who looked more suited for professional wrestling than college football, blindsided D after a throw.

it was a dirty hit, helmet to helmet, and D went down hard. you froze, pom-poms slack in your hands, as the crowd erupted in boos. for a second, D didn’t move, and your chest seized with panic. but then they rolled onto their side, their hand going to their helmet, and relief flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.

they got up, wobbling slightly, and waved off the trainers who tried to check on them.

your fingers dug into the plastic of your pom-poms, the edges biting into your skin. you wanted to scream at them to stop being so stubborn, to let someone take care of them for once. but you were stuck on the sidelines, powerless to do anything but watch.

it was the last quarter and the score was tied, and every play felt like life or death. the crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening, as D took the snap for the final play. they dropped back, scanning the field, their movements precise and fluid. princeton’s defense was closing in, but D didn’t flinch. and then, with a leap that seemed to defy gravity, they threw the ball downfield.

touchdown.

the stadium erupted. the crowd screamed. the cheer squad jumped and waved their pom-poms like their life depended on it, but you couldn’t move. you just stood there, your heart pounding, your eyes locked on D.

they ripped off their helmet, their face flushed and damp with sweat, and for a moment, they let their teammates surround them, clapping them on the back, shouting their praise. but D’s eyes were searching, scanning the sidelines, until they found you.

and then they ran.

it wasn’t graceful or dramatic—it was desperate and urgent, like they couldn’t get to you fast enough. the crowd blurred around you, the noise fading into a dull hum, as D closed the distance between you.

they didn’t stop when they reached you, just grabbed you and pulled you into their arms, burying their face in your shoulder like they were afraid to let go. you could feel their heartbeat racing, their chest heaving as they caught their breath.

“i’m sorry,” D said, their voice muffled against your uniform. “i’m so sorry. i’m an idiot. i was scared, okay? i love you and i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t want to screw you up.”

you pulled back just enough to look at them, their gray eyes raw and unguarded, and you felt your own walls crumbling rapidly.

“you love me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

D nodded, their hands gripping your arms like you might vanish if they let go.

“i do. i love you,” they said, their voice cracking. “i love you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

you didn’t even realize you were crying until D’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. you let out a shaky laugh, leaning into them.

“i’m still supposed to be mad at you,” you said, but there was no heat in it.

D smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your chest ache.

“yeah,” they said. “but can you be mad at me and be completely mine?”

you nodded, choking back a sob as you wrapped your arms around their neck, pulling them into a kiss. the noise of the crowd surged back in, louder than ever, and it mingled with D and your teammates hollering suddenly. but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except D’s lips on yours, their hands on your waist, the way they held you like you were their centre of gravity.

when you finally pulled back, D rested their forehead against yours, their breath warm against your skin.

“will you still be cheering for me, baby?” they asked, their voice soft but hopeful.

you laughed through your tears, pressing another kiss to their lips. “always.”

[fruitbasketball]

Princeton thank you for ruining my bracket

nah fr bc i put my faith in this school and they disappointed me just like they did a few years ago

[m00ng4z3r]

venus incarnate

ballerina!reader x basketball!luke smau

a/n : i genuinely dont know why i made this

reader uses she/her pronouns, 19, attends julliard and the school of american ballet

luke is 19 and plays for princeton tigers.

established + known relationship, but mainly private

PART 3

introductions | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

luke.castell posted a story !

♫ Dreams, Fairytales, Fantasies by A$AP Ferg, Brent Faiyaz, Salaam Remi

chillin

tagged connorstoll, travstoll, charles.beck, _chrisrod, persea

luke.castell posted a story!

two amazing views in one 😮‍💨

tagged yn.yln

silenabeau replied to this story!

silenabeau urgh yall make me sick

c4stellan hush

c4stellan everybody literally had to endure you and charlie flirting at the beach the other day

silenabeau aaaannnd you and yn werent the same? if not worse?

read by luke.castell

venusincarnate posted a photo !

tagged c4stellan

398 likes

venusincarnate #bestbballgf 🥶

silenabeau we are literally the best ball gfs

charles.beck yes u are ml 🙄 venusincarnate yes lena ik we are best

c4stellan my good luck charm

venusincarnate i giggled

[themenendezbrothers]

"I was fifteen years old when my father announced the move. I was enrolled in Princeton Day School in New Jersey at the time. Along with my big brother. I didn't necessarily like school and school work — which was constant — but every day I knew that at some point I would get to hang out with my older brother, and that was worth the pain of schoolwork. Lyle was my idol in a way. He was my Michael Jordan, my Tiger Woods, my hero. In truth, he was probably more like my John McEnroe.

Our father had pushed tennis since we were old enough to hold a racquet, and his standards were high, to say the least. "Mac: was the reigning leader of the tennis world when we were coming up, and of course, he was also the model of brash youth. To him, an authority figure was someone who had lost the edge - someone who watched, who observed, but who never engaged. Mac was a leader who had contempt for authority. My brother gravitated to the idea that leaders were above the rules. I suppose my father saw the danger in this attitude, but it was the way my father conducted his own life, and I think he just assumed that Lyle was emulating him.

In truth, if there was anyone who was being emulated in our family, it was my brother. I did whatever he did. If Lyle left his shirt untucked at school, I would leave mine untucked - and pay the price of detention. When Lyle thought something was cool or new or unmatched, I would share his enthusiasm. And if someone was bothering me, if someone had a beef, Lyle would step up even before I had the chance. There were times when I wanted him to let me do more on my own, but my brother had always looked out for me and if he was in the next room, you could bet I would be there too.

Unfortunately, it wasn't all that surprising for good things to go bad in our home. Happiness was always fleeting. And so it was when my father announced that we would be moving to California. I would have a new school, Calabasas High School, and Lyle would stay behind to finish at Princeton Day School and then attend Princeton University. I wasn't going to see Lyle every day like before. I wouldn't even be able to go up to the University and hit some tennis balls with him. No, he would be on the other end of the continent. I had known he was going off to college soon, but I was devastated that I too would be starting somewhere new without my brother. He was the only one I had. The only person who looked out for me. Sometimes I thought he was the only person who loved me."

[satansapostle6]

I Left The Light On And The Back Door Open For You | Robert Chase

From the moment he first saw Margot Lange from legal, Dr. Robert Chase knew he was in for a wild ride that he never wanted to end.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Office Tiger

Dr. Robert Chase was annoyed, to say the least. His employer, the cantankerous and sometimes chaotic evil Dr. House, had sent him all the way down to the first floor for something that didn’t exist, just for his entertainment during the work day. Intending on confronting him, Dr. Chase returned to the fourth floor of the hospital when he realized that the department of diagnostic medicine had a visitor, who was currently speaking with House. He had never seen this woman before.

Dr. Chase realized that the woman speaking with House was another Princeton-Plainsboro employee, most likely not one of the doctors, based on her attire. Lisa Cuddy was, in some cases, a very lenient employer, focusing more so on an employee’s skills and results as opposed to superficial factors, such as behavior or approach toward less important rules. This had been demonstrated on many occasions through her hiring and continued employment of Dr. House.

Chase was beginning to understand that this was also her approach toward the woman House was speaking with, based on her attire that normally would be somewhat frowned upon in a typical work environment. While the woman’s attire wasn’t exactly inappropriate in nature, Chase couldn’t help but find it somewhat distracting to him, even if he knew that that was more so his own problem than the woman’s. Chase couldn’t help but be distracted by the tall hospital employee, whether it was because of her pretty face, long dark hair, or full-bodied characteristics.

“Miss Lange, I seriously don’t have time for this.”

“And I ‘seriously’ don’t have time to go to court for ten malpractice cases in a week, but then again, here we are,” the woman, addressed as ‘Miss Lange’, retaliated firmly.

Her voice had a rather bright, airy quality to it that was oddly inspiring. Inspiring of what, Chase had no idea. He noticed that it was almost like she was speaking in a way that was oddly retro, to the effect of being almost transatlantic. She was a rather interesting and unique type of attractive, but this didn’t stop Chase from being attracted to her at all. She was unlike many of the women he’d been with before, and also unlike many of the women he’d seen before.

She was slender and tall, especially in high heels. In heels, Chase estimated that she had to be almost six feet. She was taller than him in her stylish black Louboutins, but he hardly minded. This was one of the most remarkably beautiful women he’d ever seen, with her long black hair, blunt bangs, and dark hazel eyes. Her skin looked like pale silk, and he was mesmerized.

“Did you know the legal department has employees, like myself, specifically designated as ‘House damage control’?” the lawyer questioned Dr. House.

“I’m flattered,” the man smiled sarcastically.

Chase then realized that the woman was part of Princeton-Plainsboro’s legal staff, and patiently stood with his arms crossed by the door to try and see how her argument with House would pan out. Most people who dared to go toe to toe with House either lost, or lost their minds in the process, but usually it was both. However, this woman didn’t seem to be budging.

“I’m telling you, House, the legal department doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. As much as I appreciate you almost single-handedly getting me that SLK I wanted, I’m gonna have to ask that you not violate the Hippocratic Oath every Tuesday, or at least wait until I’ve had my morning espresso.”

“Honey, if your arguments are as solid as your ass, I think you’ll be just fine,” he promised her.

“They are,” she stated, as Chase raised an eyebrow, looking around the room completely flabbergasted.

Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron, who were sitting around waiting, both seemed relatively used to this behavior between the two of them.

“I’ll tell you what. You cut down my case load by three a week, I’ll let you bounce a quarter off of it,” the attorney incentivized.

Robert Chase did everything in his power not to let his jaw physically drop to the floor.

“Oh, challenge accepted, toots,” the older doctor said immediately.

The woman, affectionately referred to as ‘Miss Lange’, who couldn’t have been older than thirty-two, turned as she left the room, stopping in front of Chase on the way out.

“Do you happen to have a lighter on you?” she said after a moment of thought.

“Erm, no, sorry,” he shook his head, snapping himself out of his trance as she walked by.

“Shame. Anyways. You gonna be at the casino thing tonight?”

“Yeah,” Chase smirked, glad there was a work event that night.

“Alright. Cool,” was all she had to say to him.

He looked out into the hall as she walked off, shamelessly fixed on the way she moved, her hips moving lightly from side to side as she walked.

“Who is that?” he asked excitedly.

“Hey. Don’t make me spray you with the hose,” House sarcastically interrupted his depraved train of thought. “She’s mine. Back off.”

“What?” Chase snapped back to reality.

Eric Foreman and Alison Cameron both shook their heads at him.

“That’s Margot Lange. I’m only gonna say this once: do not hit that,” House warned.

“What?” Chase questioned, shocked. “Why?” he complained.

“Because. She’ll eat you alive, like some sort of office tiger,” the man informed him, leaning on his cane.

“What does that even mean?” Chase stared at him.

House sighed at his hopeless employee. “You know how you can compare a woman to a shot of espresso?”

Robert Chase had no idea how to answer this particular question.

“I guess…?”

“Well, that woman is a double shot of warm Everclear,” House told him.

But Chase just stood there, staring at him with a clear lack of understand. House made a show of rolling his eyes impatiently, trying to reiterate his warning.

“Do not engage. No man who’s ever tried to pursue a relationship with that woman has ever succeeded,” Gregory House ignored him. “Or come out unscathed.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Chase scoffed, a slight insecurity to his response.

“Nice try,” Dr. House commended him, “But even if you don’t want a relationship with her, after a few nights, you will. Trust me. And then, that’ll go south really fast, and you’ll quit, and then I’ll have to find someone to take your place. So just, don’t.”

“Why, are you speaking from experience?” the thirty year-old doctor stared.

“Yes, but not mine. Dr. Wilson’s. ‘Nuff said.”

Chase thought about Wilson for a moment, fully aware of the man’s addictive ‘falling in love’ tendency.

“Yes, but that’s also Dr. Wilson,” he reasoned in his distinctive Australian accent, “He’d fall in love with a blowup doll.”

“Well, what about Dr. Michaels? And Dr. Bettencourt? And Dr. Gonzalez? And Dr. Yu?”

“How can someone even have that much free time?” Dr. Cameron murmured, as Foreman just shrugged.

“Who’s Dr. Yu?” Chase didn’t recognize the name.

“Exactly,” House frowned.

“What if I only get with her once?” Dr. Chase tried to bargain.

“Buddy. She’ll eat you alive.”

“But… What if that’s what I want?” Chase asked cheekily, only to be met with disgust.

“Ugh!” Allison Cameron practically gagged.

“I promise you, you’ll somehow end up with your heart on the floor.”

“Seriously?” Chase asked. “She’s that bad?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, now can we move on? I’m getting bored, we’ve been on the same topic for a whole two minutes!”

That particular day working for Dr. House wasn’t necessarily the worst that Dr. Chase had ever experienced. They had all left the hospital at a fairly reasonable hour, in time for him to head home and get changed for the office outing to a casino that night. Chase had been fairly excited to get out and head to the casino, mostly because he hadn’t had much of a social life in the past month or so. He was hoping he’d meet someone, or at least have a fairly pleasant evening of socializing with his colleagues, preferably not involving Dr. House.

The casino seemed to be decently populated that Thursday night. Motivated to get the night going, Chase approached the bar, ordering himself a decent scotch. He sat down for a moment, finishing the drink so he could start to feel a light buzz. He looked at the seat beside him, pleasantly surprised to find it was already occupied by a woman. And not just any woman.

“Hey, blondie,” the woman teased him, downing an entire martini right before his eyes.

“It’s you. From earlier,” he realized, almost having forgotten she’d asked him if he was coming.

“What’s your name?” she asked, nodding as the bartender took her glass and offered a refill.

“Robert. Robert Chase,” he told her. “What’s yours?” he decided it best to pretend he hadn’t been told.

“Margot Lange,” she introduced herself confidently.

Robert had to admit he found her confidence attractive, to say the least. The more he drank, the more he couldn’t deny that she was a generally very attractive woman, with her wide, alluring eyes and her chic stature. Robert had to admit he was certainly not opposed to being with a tall woman, especially if that woman was Margot. She wore her height well, embracing it with high heels that had to have made her around six feet tall.

Unlike most men, Robert Chase didn’t feel emasculated by a beautiful, tall woman. If anything, he found her height to be rather attractive, in the way she carried herself as if she were something to be chased. Chase did love himself a tall woman.

“Nice to meet you, Margot,” he smiled charmingly. “Can I buy your next drink?”

“Sure,” she smiled, a seductive purr to her voice.

“So, what do you like to do in your free time?” he asked in turn.

“I’m a lawyer, and I deal with malpractice at the same hospital House works at, do you think I have any free time?” she crossed one leg over the other as she turned to face him.

“Good point,” Chase offered a good-humored smile. “So, what would you like to do in your free time?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’m lucky if I get to make cosmopolitans and watch TV or read a book for a whole day,” she explained. “I’d like to do that.”

“That does sound very relaxing,” he nodded in agreement. “My days off pretty much work the same way. I don’t get too much time to myself, so when I do, I tend to spend it on pretty simple things.”

“Do you like clubbing?” Margot asked.

“Er, I used to, sort of, when I was a little younger,” the young doctor thought. “I never went a whole lot, but when I did go out, that’s the kind of thing I would do.”

“What about raves? You ever go to one?”

“No,” Chase considered, “Not really. Honestly, I’m pretty vanilla.”

“I can see that,” she smirked, prompting him to reconsider the exact wording of that statement, looking embarrassed.

“You seem like you’ve really lived,” he chuckled nervously, feeling his own social life paled in comparison to hers.

“Wanna play a drinking game?” she asked, trying to put him at ease.

“Depends on what the game is,” he looked at her curiously, folding his hands in thought.

“‘Never Have I Ever’. If it’s your turn, you say something you've never done before, and if the other person’s done it, they take a sip of their drink. We take turns,” she concluded.

“Wouldn’t you end up way more drunk than me?” he wondered.

“Not if you guess right,” she sipped on her martini.

“Alright. Consider me game,” he smiled.

“I’ll go first,” she offered, thinking hard about her first turn. “Never have I ever… peed myself in public,” she watched him for a reaction.

“What—” Chase stared at her in disbelief, reluctantly sipping on his glass of scotch. “That’s what you went with?”

“I was curious,” she grinned at the humor of the situation. “Besides, you peed yourself in public, I don’t think you get to judge.”

“I was seven!” he complained defensively.

“Okay, okay, fine,” she agreed mockingly. “Your turn, then.”

“Okay. Never have I ever…” it took him a moment to come up with something he felt could be successful. “Done heroin,” he threw out satirically.

Margot smirked at him, pointedly dragging out her actions as she picked up her martini glass and dramatically held it out to him before taking a small sip. Robert Chase was in shambles as he tried to decide whether to cry out incredulously or simply apologize profusely.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to feel bad,” she promised him, “I’m still here. And a lawyer.”

Chase laughed as the two of them enjoyed the moment, continuing with the childish game as they drank together, both having a surprisingly good time. Robert knew that he’d have a good time with Margot. He knew that House had to have been exaggerating. Right?

“Never have I ever shoplifted,” she suggested eagerly.

“I’ve never done that before, actually,” he told her as she took a tiny sip of her drink.

“Really?” Margot asked nonchalantly, “It’s fun.”

Robert stared. “Why do I almost feel like you’ve done it more recently than, like, high school?”

She just smiled, not giving away her secrets. At least, not all of them.

“Never have I ever… been… in an orgy?” Chase said slowly.

“Define ‘orgy’.”

“Sex with at least three other people?” he decided.

Margot laughed. “That’s the only thing you could think of that you don’t think I’ve done?”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, feeling awkward.

But she still seem amused. “No, it’s fine.”

He watched, gulping as she took a sip of her drink. Soon enough, the two of them were out, and Robert ordered them another round. Although they both occasionally ran out of alcohol, he found that the one thing that didn’t seem to be running out, luckily, was conversation. Both of them seemed to lose track of time sitting alone together at the bar.

“Never have I ever… posed nude,” Robert baited, definitely feeling the scotch getting to his head.

Margot rolled her eyes at the basic question, as both of them took a drink. She seemed satisfied by this outcome.

”Never have I ever been leaked,” she stated.

Once again, both of them took a drink. Robert stopped for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he looked curiously at the woman across from him.

“How is it that you’ve lived such a life?” Chase wondered.

“That’s not the game,” Margot reminded him.

He just nodded, disappointed as he tried to think of something good. “Never have I ever… done it in public.”

Both of them scoffed and drank.

Margot grinned mischievously. “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.”

“Well… there was one time,” he braced himself, earning a pointed eyebrow raise, “I didn’t actually do it, but there was a dare, at a party, and… I guess I kind of wanted to,”

“I just want to point out that that was definitely a lie, by the way. More so than anything else we’ve said. I have. Plenty of times. I just really wanted to know the answer,” she remarked.

“Never have I ever slept with a coworker,” Chase lied, as she took another sip of her drink.

He felt pretty confident, until her next quip. She looked him right in the eyes as she said it, and he could’ve sworn his knees buckled.

“Never have I ever done someone in an alley behind a casino.”

The subsequent taxi ride to Margot’s place felt unnecessarily long, but as soon as he’d front door closed, the clothes came off. They were both stripped down to their undergarments before even reaching her bedroom upstairs. Margot broke the sloppy kiss, much to Robert’s disappointment, sitting promptly on the bed as he looked down at her in confusion.

“Why’d you stop?” he almost whined, unable to take the way she looked up at him.

“I think… I wanna see you take over for a minute,” she told him, slowly leaning back as she spread her legs for him to see. “I wanna see how you fuck.”

Her words were so deliciously lewd they seemed to have their own unique resonance to them, and he was entranced.

“Alright,” he agreed quickly, tilting her face upward with his index finger.

He kissed her so softly, Margot thought, it was more like kissing a girl. She allowed herself to be entertained by him as he moved his hands, from just above her knees to her hips, the pads of his fingers gently digging into her soft flesh. She felt him passionately slipping his tongue into her mouth, smiling as she toyed with his hair for both amusement and support. He got up on the bed and rested his knees on either side of her, gradually leaning forward so that her body would move backward.

Eventually, she laid on her back looking up at him, eyes full of this feigned innocence. He thought for a moment about how truly good she looked.

“Take this off for me, love?” he asked politely, thumbs circling around the cups of her bra.

She wouldn’t have admitted it, but Margot felt herself growing desperate at the simple act. She then lifted her torso so that he could reach his hands underneath her to unclip her bra, gently putting it aside. She let a tiny, but still present moan escape as he leaned over her, hands holding her breasts as his thumbs tweaked her nipples. Margot pulled him closer to her as he kissed all over the side of her neck, suckling gently despite her gestures and signals for more.

Robert Chase smiled to himself, quickly reassured that he could keep up with a woman like Margot. After all, he’d had his own fair share of amorous exploits. His spike in confidence definitely enhanced his performance, noticeably. Margot smirked to herself triumphantly, realizing she’d chosen well for her midnight snack. Her subsequent responses were overwhelmingly enthusiastic for Chase as she pulled his body over hers on the excitingly large bed. Chase allowed his own animal instincts to take over, crawling on top of her as he kissed her almost harshly, guiding his knee toward her wet center.

“Take these off,” he huffed, slipping off her panties.

Margot chuckled happily as she slid them off, pulling Chase closer to her by the collar of his shirt. He let out a quiet groan as he helped her unbutton and throw off his shirt, thinking he felt more aroused than he ever had in his life. He couldn’t undress fast enough. It wasn’t long before he was stripped down to his underwear, gasping euphorically as he felt Margot’s bright red almond nails digging into the taut flesh on his back. He let out a soft gasp as she rose up from underneath him, flipping him over as he panted softly.

Chase looked up at her with widened blue eyes, heart racing as Margot grinned as she pinned him down. Chase could tell she took pleasure in seeing him helplessly defenseless, which seemed to only excite him more.

“Gotcha,” Margot taunted.

“You got me,” Robert agreed, not sounding particularly broken up about it.

Margot smiled at his eagerness as she slid his briefs down. He gasped as she sank down on top of him, gasping ecstatically. Margot all but pounced on him as she planted harsh kisses on his neck, forcing relieved moans out of him as he thrusted up into her, swearing he’d died and gone to heaven. His hands moved from her ass to her hips, massaging her as she bounced up and down so fast he could hardly think. He could hardly see as he felt himself getting hot.

“Fuck!” Margot sighed, tossing her head back.

Chase grinned, more than satisfied with himself as he watched her. She really was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, let alone slept with. She was confident, and sharp, and fiery. It made for some of the best sex he’d ever had, as ridiculous as it sounded. He even made sure to force himself to last even longer than usual as she clenched tightly around him, just to indulge in the unbelievably intense sensation for longer. He had no idea how long it had really been, but he knew they went at it for at least a solid ten minutes.

Chase suddenly felt the need to switch things up, to add an additional element of spontaneity. So, he took a page out of Margot’s book and pushed her off of his lap. She landed on her lap in the middle of the bed, looking up at him with an animalistic sense of fear in her eyes. She looked up at him with disappointment, pouting seductively as he stood over her on his knees.

“No happy ending?” she teased.

“Not yet, sorry darling,” Chase panted.

Before she knew what was happening, Chase pulled a Margot, flipping her over on her stomach as she let out a squeal of excitement. Margot chuckled as she arched her back. Chase sighed as he slid into her, groaning at the warm feeling. He felt himself twitch at the sound of her loud moans, her pleasure giving him more gratification than anything else.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed, no longer able to contain his arousal.

“Shit!” Margot whispered, her walls tightening around him.

Chase grinned, feeling himself about to climax as she leaned down, kissing him hungrily as they both clung to one another passionately.

-

Chapter Two

[princetonarchives]

Tiger Tuesday: Princeton v. Pennsylvania football program, November 2, 1946.

In what the New York Times called the “Upset of the Decade,” the underdog Princeton football team defeated the University of Pennsylvania 17 to 14 in this game with a series of scrappy plays and clever misdirection. A 35-minute riot ensued, and the Philadelphia police called for reinforcements from the mounted calvary. In the confusion, Princeton’s coaches missed the team bus and had to take the train back home. They were given a standing ovation at Penn Station.

Athletics Programs Collection (AC042), Box 5, Folder 2.

The entire Tiger Tuesday series

[princetonarchives]

Some info from our colleague's Graphic Arts blog about this piece:

When the students saw Kent’s design, they were unimpressed. The roar of the tiger was taken to be a yawn and the committee was nervous that alumni would not want to purchase the image of a bored Princeton tiger. They decided to ask Kent come up with another idea and sent one of their members, Bates W. Littlehales, Class of 1948, to meet with Kent in person. Unfortunately, the dates were confused and the meeting never took place, leaving Adler to deliver the bad news through the mail. He tried to explain to Kent that unlike other Print Clubs, no member of Princeton’s Club had to take a print that he didn’t like. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “most of our sales are made to the old guard Princetonians who believe in this place and want to give the best possible impression of Princeton.” Adler asked Kent to make a new print. “I am astounded,” replied Kent, who argued that the image had been clearly described months ago. In the end, he donates the many hours he spent working on the block to the Club, as “a token of my grateful appreciation of your steadfast interest in my work.”  He refuses to do more but suggests that “some day I may enlist the interest of some Princeton grad to have me finish the block.” So far, the Princeton tiger has never been editioned.

The date we'd put for Kent's engraving is ca. 1948.

The entire Tiger Tuesday series

Princeton Tiger, nd. Rockwell Kent, 1882-1971.

Woodcut on wove paper.