#you and your little man that you could grab like that one image of spongebob holding up an apple to the camera

[weaponsdrawn]

WEDDING FIC?????????????? CONGRATS ON THE MARRIAGE DUDE THATS AWESOME /GEN

also im glad u. overjoyed by my sleep deprived insanity <3 i've been fixtated on death battle thx to my gf its awesome . im glad u enjoyed my evil yaoi image too /gen love ya man :D /p

wizzzzzz wizzzzzard pis oh wait fuck i just quoted wizard death battle instead of referencing tha tlittle man you want carnally fuck fuck fuckkkk joke cancelled lmfaoooo im so tired its like 4:22 am for me rn XDDDDDDDD

btw this is wizard death battle

and marshall. hes the guy who isnt white.

seeing this in my inbox is the exact same feeling as if i had like uncovered an old photo album of my great grandparents making history on exciting adventures that i had absolutely no prior knowledge of. i love you so much

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

costumes & confessions

summary: Halloween just might be the time for you to confess how you feel to Pierre, whether you’re ready or not.

warnings: mentions of sex, swears

word count: 2.8k

note from the writer: this is a halloween fic, but it's not heavily reliant on being a halloween fic. like the setting is a halloween party, but it could be read year round. enjoy :) ! / take my survey!

It was just supposed to be a friends with benefits thing. He was out of town more often than not, and you were too swamped with work and other obligations to commit to anything more than a quick hookup. You were friends before you started sleeping together, your easy banter seamlessly translating to a fantastic time between the sheets. But for you, it was much, much more than the agreed upon terms after only a few weeks.

You should have known; your life was far too entwined with Pierre’s for you to not get attached.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Pierre asked as he let himself into your apartment, a habit he had developed long before your arrangement. You didn’t even turn as you continued stirring the sauce you were making, far too used to him showing up at just the right time.

“I’ve been told that I have to make an appearance at the team party.” You told him and he chuckled, because of course you’d be there with his team, they were the whole reason he knew you in the first place.

“There’s a costume contest.” He hummed, and because you still hadn’t turned to look at him, he wound his arms around your middle from behind and tugged gently until you were pressed against his front and he could drop his head to your shoulder. Pierre got like this often, needy and wanting your attention and if you didn’t give it to him, he searched out for it.

“And?” You prompted, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to feel the hammering of your heart. You knew you should have pulled away from him, knew that you were only setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you chose to ignore rationality once more and sunk into his embrace. If he was going to act like the caring boyfriend, you weren’t going to stop him.

“And we’re going to win it.” He said decidedly, dropping a kiss to your pulse point before standing to his whole height and backing up. You took your time in turning the heat off on the stove and moving the sauce so it wouldn’t burn before finally turning to look at Pierre. He was grinning widely, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from emulating it.

“How are we going to do that, exactly?” You crossed your arms and leaned backwards against your kitchen counter, a challenging look in your eye. Pierre met your look head on, a mischievous glint in his eye and his chest puffed out just a bit more.

“We’re going to have the best couples costume there, obviously.” He stated plainly, as if it was that simple and as if he hadn’t just shattered your world then. You desperately wanted to be a part of a couples costume with Pierre, but you also wanted more. You wanted the couples part, the ability to kiss him as often as you wanted to, the whole nine yards. But you didn’t know if it was a good idea.

Couples costumes were not in the terms of agreement for friends with benefits. And you were already playing with fire.

“Come on, are you hungry?” You changed the topic, turning to grab two plates from the cabinet. Pierre acted then, grabbing forks and meeting you at the sink where the culender held the noodles you had already made. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling you felt that you fit way too smoothly with him in your kitchen.

“Do you not want to do a costume together?” He asked, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you. Instead of meeting his stare, though, you elected to focus intently on the pasta you were scooping onto his plate.

You thought about his question. There really was no reason that you shouldn’t go together. It was just a simple group costume, there was absolutely no hidden meaning behind the fact that he called it a couples costume.

“No, of course I do.” You plastered a smile onto your face, moving to the stove to ladle sauce onto your plate. You repeated your actions with Pierre’s food and, when it became abundantly clear he was looking for an explanation for your hesitation, you met his gaze with a teasing smile. It was a complete contrast to the tiny frown he was sporting, his eyes searching you for answers. You were afraid he’d find them. “Just nervous to see what you’re going to make me wear, Luc.”

You threw the nickname in for good measure, knowing just how much he loved hearing it come from you. It worked, for the most part, and after one last searching look he ducked down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

Oh, you were in trouble. That was for sure.

With the friends part of the evening over with once dinner was finished, the benefits part arrived in full force. He knew just how to take you apart and leave you satisfied, and you loved that you had the same effect on him.

Though, instead of leaving after like he never truly did and probably should have, he helped clean you up and even pulled one of his t-shirts out of your dresser for you to wear with a boyish grin. He tugged his boxers back on and climbed in your bed with you, though this time with a lot less lust on his eyes.

“So, Halloween.” He started and you couldn’t help the laugh that fell past your lips. He had his head propped up with his hand, and you rolled to your side so you could face him.

“That’s what you think about after sex? Was I that bad?” You teased, knowing from the way he fell apart moments earlier that you absolutely were not bad. Pierre rolled his eyes, ducking down to capture your lips in a kiss to get you to stop giggling at him. These were the moments that tugged at your heartstrings the most—just after sex when nothing in the world mattered and it was just you and him together, acting like you wouldn’t go back to being just friends as soon as you left the bed.

“Anyways,” he grinned, clearly amused by your joke just as much as you were. “I think I have the perfect idea.”

“Oh yeah? Better than whatever the other guys can come up with?” You hummed, your previous anxiety having slipped away the more you thought about it. You shouldn’t have worked yourself up as much as you did, you had gone with Pierre to plenty of events as his plus one and not once had you freaked out like you had earlier.

It probably was his use of the word ‘couple’ that tripped you up so much.

“Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy.” He grinned, clearly proud of himself for the idea, and you couldn't help but laugh loudly once again. The image of you and him dressed as the characters from Spongebob drew a giggle out of you, especially since you knew how dedicated he was to his costumes.

“You want to be Barnacle Boy?” You teased, though you were already figuring out the logistics of it in your head. He would be Barnacle Boy, of course, because he was taller. Pierre nodded with a broad grin on his face and it was so infectious your own cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

“You can be the Mermaid Man to my Barnacle Boy.” He joked, the hand not propping his head up reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Your grin softened then, the moment feeling too intimate for you to handle.

“That means I’ll be your boss for the night.” You tried joking, but your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. No doubt Pierre picked up on it, but all you saw on his face was an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“You’re my boss all the time, though.” He teased lowly before leaning in for a slow kiss you couldn’t help but melt into.

You felt anything but in control in that moment.

Halloween arrived faster than you would have liked, and the days leading up to it were spent running from store to store in order to find the right parts to your costume. When Pierre showed up at your apartment to pick you up and take you to the party, you were already in costume, a purple starfish painted on your nose to seal the deal.

“Oh, we’re so going to win.” Pierre commented the moment he saw you, and you laughed as he grabbed your hand and spun you around to get a three-sixty view. When you were standing in front of him again, his gaze settled on your chest under the guise of admiring the seashell bra you wore atop the bright orange shirt. “I like the shells.”

“Keep it in your pants, Dubois.” You teased, slapping his shoulder as you parted to find your phone and wallet to get ready to leave. You also took a moment to compose yourself, because even dressed in a ridiculous Barnacle Boy costume, he still was the most attractive man you had ever seen.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” He teased as you reentered the kitchen, where he had made himself at home by digging through your pantry for a snack. You rolled your eyes at him, hoping you didn’t look as flustered by his comments as you were.

“You better try, because people are already getting suspicious that something’s going on between us.” By your last count, it was three of the other boys’ wives and girlfriends and at least two of his teammates that said something to you about your close relationship with Pierre, so he had to have gotten something from them as well.

“So what if they know?” Pierre shrugged his shoulders, ducking past you and out of the kitchen like what he said was no big deal. You raised a brow at him, following after to find him standing by your door, holding your coat out for you.

“Pierre, people don’t know we’ve been sleeping together, right?” You questioned, a little mortified at the idea of going to a party filled with people that knew you were sleeping with someone you swore up and down was just a friend.

“I haven’t told anyone, but they just kinda guess.” He explained, opening your front door for you. Sighing, you followed after him. You couldn’t be mad, you were the one that left hickeys unabashedly on his neck night after night and when the boys saw that you had matching bruises, even they could put two and two together.

And you really couldn’t be mad as Pierre slipped his hand into yours.

You were fashionably late to the party, so Pierre tugged you around the house to show off the costumes you both worked so hard on. The boys ribbed him for being Barnacle Boy and supplied you with drinks, and you forced him to dance with you when the cheesy Monster Mash came on.

It was all going great. Until Alexandre Texier made an appearance.

“Luc, you finally asked her out!” He exclaimed as he swung an arm around Pierre’s shoulders. You figured he was emboldened by the drink sloshing in his cup, but that didn’t mean you were any less shocked. Tex turned his attention to you, a wide grin on his face that meant nothing but trouble. “You know, he never shuts up about you.”

If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why that comment was the tipping point. Friends talked about friends all the time, Tex’s comment could have been completely innocent. He was a sweetheart, he probably had no ill intent. Or maybe it was the way Pierre instantly shot down the idea of him asking you out, his offhanded ‘don’t be ridiculous’ followed by a string of French you didn’t understand was like a knife to the heart. But you couldn’t handle it then, and took off without another word through the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Pierre shouted your name, and when you didn’t stop for him, another string of French words—curses, you knew that much—fell from his mouth before was chasing after you. His legs were longer and he had the advantage of being a professional athlete, but you had a head start and the added bonus of running from your feelings, so it was nearly fair, and he only caught up to you as you slipped into the bathroom. He caught the door, shooting you a confused look and entering the bathroom himself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence first. You shook your head, because that was easier than trying to find something to say, and you didn’t exactly trust your voice in that moment. It was clear that something was wrong with you, your arms were crossed and you were frowning, not to mention your near sprint to lock yourself in the bathroom. “You can tell me, you know.”

Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I have to know, Pierre, if you feel something. Because I do, and I can’t keep doing this if it means nothing to you.” You cracked, gesturing dramatically between you and Pierre for emphasis as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized how badly your eyes were watering, but it was too late now.

This was not one of your finer moments; dressed as Mermaid Man, crying in the bathroom at some party as the guy you desperately wished reciprocated your feelings stood floundering, trying to find a way to let you down easily.

“Fuck, okay then.” You continued when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say what you wanted. The tears were falling faster, and you were mentally preparing yourself to slip past everyone and out the front door while they all stared at the crying Mermaid Man. “I-I’ll just leave.”

You tried to get past Pierre, then, and make your tearful walk outside where you’d order an Uber and wait since he was your ride, but his hands shot out and suddenly he was cupping your face and he was kissing you like his life depended on it. Your hands gripped his forearms, both to stabilize yourself so you didn’t trip at the sudden movement and to ground yourself to the moment.

You weren’t sure how long he was kissing you, but he pulled away much too soon for your liking, his forehead dropping against yours as you both caught your breath. You waited for him to speak first, too scared to ruin the bubble that had formed around you in the last few seconds and too nervous about what he’d say. After a moment, he brushed his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away any wetness left there by your tears and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He stood to his full height, then, and pulled you into his chest for a hug. You went willingly; you always did.

“You’re crazy.” He mumbled, and despite the loud music coming from just outside the bathroom, his voice was loud in the previously quiet bathroom. You pulled back slightly, then, and gave him a confused look, a silent plea for him to explain himself. “You’re crazy if you think I don’t feel the same.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully. The kiss you had just shared alluded to his true feelings, plus the way he was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky, but you needed to hear him say it. After weeks of convincing yourself that you were stuck in the friends with benefits role you had been stupid enough to suggest, you needed to hear him tell you how he felt about you.

“From the day I met you.” He told you, a smile making its way onto his face as he watched your features form into a confused pout. While you had always acknowledged that Pierre was attractive, it was only after sleeping with him a few times that you realized that you harboured feelings for. “Then you suggested being friends with benefits, and I was going to take whatever I could get.”

“You should have said something.” You pouted, watching as he grin widened. You weren’t actually mad at him, it was a two way street and you could have confessed your own feelings a long time ago.

“I thought it was obvious, I did ask you to be my Mermaid Man.” He joked, earning an eye roll from you and a grin to match his.

“Come on, Barnacle Boy, let’s get back to the party. We’ve got a costume contest to win.” Once again, Pierre didn’t let you pass by him to get to the door. Instead, he ducked down to capture your lips in one last kiss and to deliver a cheesy comment that made you snort and swat at his chest.

“I’ve already won tonight, though.”

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Spring Fest Day 15: Growth

Wherein there is an art show and an ex.

It wasn’t often they got a weekend away together during the school year, but this time it was a special circumstance. The Rhode Island School of Design Craft Show had selected Xichen as one of its three jurors this year. It was an honor for him, and for Lan Academy, and so while Xichen didn’t like to leave the school for any amount of time, especially not right before the first quarter report cards went out, he couldn’t refuse this invitation.

“Is Xichen nervous?”

Jiang Cheng looked up from where he was giving Sugar her final hugs before setting out for the weekend. His sister had offered to watch all the pets, but Jiang Cheng loved her far too much to leave her with a dog and three cats on top of her children. Molly had agreed to take care of the cats back at Xichen’s home. Sugar needed a little more attention, and since Jin Ling had already shown a love for dogs, it would be a good test run for him in the future.

Even if the Peacock swore they’d never had a dog.

It was one of maybe three things Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao agreed on: if their nephew wanted a dog, he was getting a dog.

“I’d be nervous,” Yanli said. “I still get nervous judging cooking competitions. I hate when people don’t get rewarded for at least trying their hardest.”

His beloved, tender-hearted sister. He loved her so much.

“You know Xichen feels the same about art. He refuses to claim any one medium or style has more value than the other. To him, it’s always about being made with some sort of genuine emotion. The jurors for this show remain anonymous, so that won’t be a burden to him this weekend.” He stood, wiping off bits of Sugar’s fur from his pants and tried not to let his temper flare at the one very shitty part of this weekend. “His ex is presenting there this year though, and I think he’s more nervous about that than anything else. He’s avoided that jackass since he graduated.”

“Or maybe he’s more nervous about what you will do,” Yanli said. “Not that such a horrible person doesn’t deserve every verbal wound you’d give him. Or a physical one. Trip the bastard, make him knock out a tooth.”

“Yanli!”

She shrugged. “You could do worse. This way it’ll be a justifiable accident. How anyone could be that horrible to Xichen of all people.”

If Yanli knew everything that bastard had said to Xichen, the emotional manipulative shit he’d pulled over a year-long relationship, she’d probably invite herself along to give the fucker a piece of her mind.

“I don’t want to make it awkward or more difficult for Xichen this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said. “So I’ll be nice and professional; my normal asshole self to that piece of shit; and then I’ll set mom and Huaisang on the little rat’s trail once I get his business card.”

“Good,” Yanli said. Her cold tone faded as her bright smile returned. “If you see a peacock--”

“I’ll buy it for your family’s collection,” Jiang Cheng promised her.

***********

The Freeman Hotel was old by date, historic by design, and a little full of itself, but Jiang Cheng knew it would be a better fit for Xichen who had almost accepted the school’s offer of rooming at the Hilton. Not that the Hilton was a bad hotel, but Xichen was and remained a kind, but pampered, prince and they’d both be far more comfortable with their suite here. Xichen had fallen in love with the hotel the first time they’d stayed, and so now every time they came to Providence, they stayed in the same premier suite. It was one of their own traditions.

“You were right,” Xichen said as they exited the car. “The Hilton would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have felt right.”

Jiang Cheng nodded as he pulled their bags out of the trunk. “And I’m sure you’ll still meet some of your fellow alumni here, but we can still have a semblance of privacy.”

The staff here was very good and very respectful. They were also pet friendly which was one of the many reasons they stayed here.  

“And escape,” Xichen agreed. He grinned as they headed towards the lobby. “We’ll both need it after this weekend.”

“Being polite is so exhausting,” Jiang Cheng agreed.

“As if you’d know,” Xichen teased.

“It’s a good thing I love you so much, or I’d leave you to fend for yourself with the alumni masses this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen dipped his head and kissed the tip of Jiang Cheng’s nose. They entered the lobby happy--laughing--both feeling lighter than they had during the past few weeks of work and stress.

“Mr. Lan! Mr. Jiang! It’s so good to see you again,” Santos greeted them from behind the counter. “No Sugar this time?”

“We left her with family this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We’ll miss her,” Santos said. He passed over their room keys and wished them well.

They both lingered in the lobby, studying the current art exhibit. There was always at least one art exhibit, no matter the time of year. This particular one also had various pieces from the School of Design’s student body and alumni. It was certainly going to be a weekend for it. They passed various little lounges and hidden corners full of books and art and all different types of comfortable chairs. They passed the main winding staircase that led up to the top floors of the original building, past the little door that led to a hidden garden path, and then finally headed towards the bank of elevators.

As they passed another little alcove, Xichen froze.

“Baby?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Xichen’s shoulders dropped, the joy from earlier seeming to disappear. Jiang Cheng’s protective instincts immediately went on alert, he stepped in front of Xichen, trying to find whatever could’ve caused such a sudden change in his mood. All he could hear was a nasally voice talking about the children’s paintings in the back alcove with that pretentious bullshit tone that only came from people who were too rich or too full of themselves or both.

“Some parents just shouldn’t encourage their students to pursue art. Just look at this?”

What in the actual fuck? Who in the hell criticized children’s art projects?

“Well, that’s a soulless asshole,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen nodded. Cleared his throat. And nodded again. “So, um...that’s my college boyfriend. Brantley.”

Jiang Cheng felt a mixture of rage, anger, and disbelief.

Really, disbelief more than anything.

“Brantley’s not a human name, it’s a horse’s name,” Jiang Cheng replied before he could form any other thoughts. He shook his head as he tried to drown out the nasally voice still droning on. “That?” he asked, pointing to where the voice came from. “Him?”

“Mistakes were made,” Xichen said, a twist of a smile back on his lips and a hint of sparkle in his eyes.

“A mistake is when you put a red shirt in with a load of whites,” Jiang Cheng said. “That is a fucking travesty.”

That asshole was the source of so many of Xichen’s firsts. That was the motherfucker who called Xichen boring. Who told him he wasn’t enough to keep anyone satisfied. Said he only got into RISD because of his family name. Called Xichen plain and hardly memorable. That motherfucker who was critiquing a kid’s drawing of Spongebob friggin’ Squarepants. No wonder Meng Yao, Satan Incarnate himself, seemed like a prince compared to that asshole. The man’s voice alone made Jiang Cheng want to break his face.

“Him?” Jiang Cheng asked again, ready to storm into the room. “Did he try to play art critic back then too? To children?”

“There were many reasons why I broke up with him,” Xichen said. He grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm. “My love, don’t. Please. I just want to go up to our room.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated. “Just one little tiny rant?” he tried.

Xichen shook his head. “Please,” he said.

And how could Jiang Cheng deny him when he asked?

He couldn’t.

But he made sure to keep his deadliest glare on his face just in case the jackass appeared before their elevator arrived.

**********

Xichen knew Brantley (though the artworld knew him as ‘Ley’) was going to be here this weekend, but he never thought they’d be staying in the same hotel. This hotel was a place of class and calm and Brantley usually avoided anything ‘traditional’ so as not to seem boring. There was no reason for him to be staying in this hotel when far trendier ones that catered to people who cared more about their image than their comfort were closer to the city center.

Xichen refused to let it put a damper on their little holiday. He was proud to be a juror this year, was always eager to see the creations of RISD’s students and alumni, and was ecstatic Jiang Cheng had been able to clear his weekend and join him. This was their suite in their hotel in a city they came back to often. He refused to let one past mistake--one that was still so clearly a horrible human being--ruin it.

Back then, Xichen had been charmed and flustered and confused. He’d never dated before then, never had someone pursue him in the ruthless way Brantley had. He’d been bowled over by him; an attractive student, a year ahead of him, who was popular in Xichen’s department. Now he could look back and see that Brantley was smart, but not clever; handsome, but not breathtaking; talented, but not extraordinary. Still, there was a time Xichen had been in awe of him.

They didn’t start off bad, but then Brantley couldn’t stand not being the best, not being the center of attention, and as Xichen grew more comfortable so far removed from his family, found his own friends, his own talent, his own sort of fame, Brantley had become mean.

It didn’t help that during one of these Craft weekends, Xichen had won an award and Brantley hadn’t.

That’s when Brantley’s words turned vicious; taunting; what used to be praised in Xichen was now mocked; what used to be desired was now derided.

It had come to a head one weekend when Uncle had visited. He’d shook Brantley’s hand and then turned to Xichen, a frown on his face. Uncle did not approve.Uncle would not agree to let Brantley visit the Lan property like he’d been asking to for so long. And that disapproval was the freedom, the signal, the excuse Xichen needed to end it.

It was amazing how much had changed in the years since. Xichen had grown into his confidence, even if he, naturally, still had self-doubts. He still disliked confrontation and tried to please everyone, but he’d found his strength.

He’d found his strength in more ways than one, and in one person in particular.

“Ready for dinner?” Jiang Cheng asked.

He wore one of Xichen’s own Lan Academy swim team shirts, the cotton old, faded, and stretched, and a pair of khaki shirts in deference to the still warm days of early Fall and the amount of walking they’d do tonight. That was another tradition of theirs: to walk the streets of downtown after dinner, lingering in the parks, enjoying their time together, before stopping off at the local grocers to buy food to stock their little kitchen here for the weekend. Every time Xichen was reminded of his first show as Zewu-jun, of them both tired and punch-drunk on that park bench, eating a horrible McDonald’s breakfast.

He wished he could somehow tell the Xichen back then that one day he would spend almost every morning waking up to that face, that he would know that smile as well as his own; that he’d get to hear that laughter whenever he wished, since it was always either a room or a phone call away. That in that moment, hours after that breakfast, he would start something that would lead him here.

To a man who loved him for his faults as well as his virtues; who respected him, praised him, supported him. To his equal. To his heart.

Xichen knew there were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jiang Cheng now; could feel the rattle of a sob in his chest.

Jiang Cheng immediately dropped down next to him and wrapped him in his arms, soft kisses spread across his brow, the tip of his nose, his hair.

“Say the word and I’ll get him kicked out of here. I’ll buy the entire fucking hotel to do it if I have to.”

Xichen shook his head and laughed, clinging tighter to Jiang Cheng.

“I love you,” he forced out. The words he meant to say before all of it had come crashing down on him. “And thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Jiang Cheng said.

He could still feel the angry tension in Jiang Cheng’s body. He knew Jiang Cheng wanted to lash out; to avenge all Xichen’s past hurts. But those past hurts were nothing, just memories, and they were nothing compared to the joy he’d found and the happy memories he’d made with Jiang Cheng.

“Room service?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Absolutely not,” Xichen said. He gently tugged Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and sat back. “We have a reservation with our favorite restaurant and then an appointment with our favorite park bench and I refuse to let one asshole who’s never grown out of his bitterness for not being as talented as he thinks he is ruin it.”

“I still want to kick his ass,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I believe you’d have to get in line,” Xichen said.

**********

It was after their lovely dinner, relaxing walk, and too many kisses while sitting on their bench, that the confortonation finally happened. Jiang Cheng’s arms were full of their groceries, and he was propped up against the wall as they waited for their elevator to descend. It was then that they both wrinkled their noses at the smell of someone who hadn’t sprayed cologne rather than doused themselves in it.

“Oh--you’re here.”

Xichen put on his best Headmaster Lan smile to nod at Brantley. “It is alumni weekend,” he said.

“I didn’t think school principals could afford to stay at a place like this,” Brantley said. “Of course, you have your family’s money.”

Ah, so they were continuing where they’d left off then. Even after nearly twenty years.

“My inheritance is my source of income,” Xichen agreed, “so that my salary can be donated to the school to fund various scholarships and programs.”

“Not that he even needs to pull from his inheritance, considering the money his art brings in on its own,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen grinned at Jiang Cheng, still so casually propped up against the wall, his smile and eyes ready to kill.

“You’re not an artist,” Brantley said as he looked at Jiang Cheng, judging him by his outfit alone. “Sold prices don’t equal skill.”

“Fair enough,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m not an artist, just an appreciator and investor.”

Brantley gave a pitying smile. “Well, my work of course is more than just basic watercolors.”

“I love watercolors,” Jiang Cheng said. “And shouldn’t one collect and create art they enjoy? Wouldn’t it be too pretentious to imply one type of art is better than another? If it’s all up to interpretation? I mean, of course everything in life must be open to criticism, but it takes a special kind of asshole to try and douse other people’s joy just to feel better about their own failings.”

Brantley didn’t take the bait and didn’t seem to realize he was a little guppy batting at a shark. “You’re an investor, you say? What’s the jewel of your collection then? Comic strips?”

Xichen didn’t know how Jiang Cheng found the control to keep his hands where they were and not slap the smug smirk off Brantley’s face. He didn’t though, just shifted the groceries and gave Xichen a wink.

“The jewel of my collection? Xichen,” Jiang Cheng automatically said. “But if we’re talking assets, I suppose it’s the Jiang Theater. I mean, my family owns some more important pieces, but those remain on permanent loan to the Museum of Fine Arts. And the Gardner. And Harvard has a couple of our pieces too, and MoMA. Always forget about MoMA. But in terms of size, I suppose it must be the Jiang Theater.”

That caught Brantley’s attention. “Oh, are you a supporter of the theater?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “And somehow some complicated way, the owner.”

Xichen finally intervened. As much fun as this was, their ice cream was melting. “Brantley, he’s the owner and CEO of Jiang Industries.”

“You may call me Mr. Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said as the elevator doors finally opened. He walked past Brantley, rolling his eyes as the man refused to move. “Seriously?” he asked, turning to Xichen as they settled inside the elevator and the doors started to close. “Him? Really?”

“I was young and I didn’t know any better,” Xichen said. “He was my first boyfriend.”

“We both started from the shit bottom,” Jiang Cheng said. “At least there was growth and improvement.”

“Are you complimenting Meng Yao?”

“Saying he’s better than that shit stain is hardly a compliment,” Jiang Cheng said. “But, yes, if we’re being technical about it, I am.” He made a face. “That’s disgusting. Come here and kiss me and take away the trauma of it all.”

“I’ll squish the bread,” Xichen said even as he crowded Jiang Cheng into the corner.

“Somehow, I think I’ll forgive you,” Jiang Cheng said.

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 19

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

A/n: Here is Chapter 19! As you all can tell my creative juices are flowing and while this chapter is also shorter than I would like, I promise I will more than make up for it in the next chapter.

Warnings: Ummm.... lang. for you faint of heart folks Lol. Mostly tame.

Catch up HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 19

 Clark bypasses my room and goes to Kalen’s. There is not much talking as he goes into the bathroom and starts a shower. I summon clothes from next door and go into the shower. I hear the TV switch on low volume to some Kansas City Chiefs rerun and a tired sigh. I let the hot water run down my body, as the events of the day catch up with me. I remembered only bits and pieces of everything that had happened. One thing I remembered clearly was the letter. After everything that happened between us, could there even still be anything between Clark and I? I was still struggling with trusting my own feelings and trusting that I was even lovable. How could I be the one he wanted?

 I was now even more broken and apparently I was now going through some sort of new mutation of my powers? Would he still be around for someone who couldn’t handle people’s thoughts? Maybe not even be able to learn to respect his?

 I got out the shower and dressed in the shorts and tank top I summoned. Modesty was out the window at this point. The man had seen me in way less and had been inside of me. I could manage to be in shorts and a tank in the same bed.

When I came out Clark had stripped down to his boxers and his white beater top. 

   “Are you going to join me? Or don’t tell me you are getting shy on me now.”

 He cracks a joke, waving his arm toward the bed despite the nerves rolling off of him. I feel terrible about it, the reason for his nerves weren’t on the surface of his thoughts, but I could guess it was only because he was nervous that I would force myself into him again. 

   “I didn’t think you’d want me in with you. Especially after I sexually assaulted you earlier.”

I look down and Clark surprises me with a laugh.

   “Gia, let me assuage some of your guilt. I am not counting that as sexual assault on my person.”

I look at him confused. I toss my hand on my hip and stare pointedly and confused while standing about 3 ft away from the edge of the bed that he was sitting on.

   “Clark I had you tied to a chair and sat on your lap while I grabbed your dick. If that’s not assault I don’t know what is.”

 He looks at me with honest and open blue eyes.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Despite you not being in your right mind, if you were, that would have been something of a wet dream. You dressed in tight spandex, taking exactly what you want from me. I feel ashamed for wanting to go along with it.”

 My jaw dropped, I’m sure it looked comical but it didn’t feel comical. I tried to play it cool even though I was stumbling over my words.

    “I..Umm... Didn’t realize you had a masochistic streak.”

   “Usually I don’t. I’ve felt like I have been so out of control of my own life that giving it up in my bedroom, a place where I should have final say is not my thing but lingering in my mind every time I see you show up as Midnight in that same material suit I’ve been thinking about us doing almost exactly what we did back in that compound at least once.”

 My eyes had to be comically wide, he had to be able to hear my heart rate tick up. I saw images of Clark and I flash across my mind, clearly not generated by me. Clark pushes forward some of his own emotions and views of me on top of him earlier. I bite my lower lip as he sends a bevy of emotions that despite being sore, with a headache made me want to jump him. 

The other side of me was scared. I didn’t want to do this again with him. To get my hopes up, that the feelings from so long ago lingered up until now? I remembered how he brought me out of my programming, the love he had to pour into me for it to work however there was always a voice in my head that told me we would never work. 

Clark reaches his hand out toward me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist and adding just enough pressure to imply that I come closer to him. I did. His large hands come to my hips and I try not to shiver.

  “You think loud.” I offer him as I reach up, resting my hand on his shoulder. 

  “And you overthink.” He counters

 The tension is thick in the room, I am standing  close enough to him that the energy is bouncing between us. 

    “Clark I just think...”

   “Exactly, you are overthinking. Tonight let’s make it simple. We can sort the rest out later but let me tell you exactly what I want right now. All I want right now is for us to just be us.  Be here in the moment. No expectations, no confusion, no talking to mess things up. Just us.”

 I smirk, part of the reason he was suggesting no talking was because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to me again. He didn’t want to lose this moment again.

 We lock eyes and I lean down and press my lips to his for the first time in my right mind and it feels just as good now as it did almost four years ago. His hand trails behind my head as his tongue slides into my mouth. I whimper slightly and before either of us could fall into it anymore I hear the door open downstairs and footsteps coming up the stairs. It was enough to break whatever was building up in the TV lit room. We pull away from each other. 

   “Now that you’ve stolen my breath away, do you think you could do one more thing for me Clark Kent?”

   “Anything you want.”

  “Can we just be a family tonight?”

I ask him softly, kinda afraid he was going to say no, that maybe I was reading him wrong. I hoped he would be kind enough for this. Just to play this moment out for now. 

Clark just stands up going over to the door. He says thank you and takes Kalen from Bruce’s arms and lies him in the bed. Then he takes my hand, pulling me so that we are on the empty side of the King sized bed. He tosses the covers back with the free hand that is not holding mine, and then he urges me into it with a tilt of his head. I get in the extremely comfortable bed, moving over so there’s enough room for a Clark and I turn to look at my peacefully sleeping kid. I had missed his face so much. I run my hand down his face, the slightly cherubic cheeks and reddish pink lips poured and slightly open in sleep. Clark gets in behind me, his thick arm wraps over my waist, and I put my hand on top of his and press myself into his arms even more. 

   “I think we can manage that for more than just a night.”

 This was the moment I had seen in my mind's eye all those years ago when I had first developed my crush on Clark. Even if this was only for the night, I could never forget this moment with him...

 *The Next Morning*

 I could feel Kalen began to wake and I was grateful that he had at least slept until the sun was fully in the sky. It didn’t negate that I was still exhausted but it did help me to adjust to waking up. Clark had started coming to the minute he heard Kalen’s heart rate begin to increase. 

  *“Gia are you awake?”*

He asks me in his head and I crack open my eyes slowly, trying to adjust before Kalen fully woke up. At some point in the few hours I had been sleeping, I had turned and folded against Clark’s chest. He was still holding me securely and I relished in the few moments before Kalen’s eyes popped open and he practically yells

  “Mommy!!!!!”

He jumps on my back, and Clark’s arm takes much of the force from the dense little boy. He actually pulls his arm from being pinned as Kalen latch's on to my back like a koala bear. Clark gives him a second before he lifts him off my back and onto his chest so he can see my face properly, Kalen doesn’t sit still. 

I turn onto my back and Kalen climbs  on my chest to my stomach and presses excited kisses onto my cheeks.

 “There’s my baby! Good morning my Kalen!”

   “Momma! Momma you here! You came back because you were gone a looooonnnggg time mommy. I think that you will not come back. Where you go?”

 I give Kalen a smile, trying not to appear sad. I had missed him so much and I could only hope he hadn’t been too affected by my absence. 

   “Well... mommy had to help a friend of hers who was far away and bring them back. Did you have fun with your dad, grandma and Ms. A?”

 He nods furiously, and his thoughts are fragmented like I imagined a child’s to be. He was thinking at a million miles per minute. All of the things he deemed fun including seeing if his toys could float in the bath, and running his father ragged. He thought it was hilarious to see Clark do a fake pass out or letting Kalen over power him. Clark was seeing the opposite where he honestly felt like he was in over his head, the guilt of needing so much more help than he thought I needed.

   “I bet you did. Well mama missed you, and momma is hungry and I bet your dad is too so how about we go see if we can find some food huh?”

 Kalen scrambles out of the bed and I follow behind to help him get dressed for the day while Clark goes and takes a shower. Kalen gets dressed and I lead him next door, where I can tell my shield is still holding up. The energy inside tells me Tracy is awake but not hostile. Confused, hungry but not hostile. Kalen and I knock so as not to scare her. We entered shortly after.

Tracy is sitting in bed with the legs folded one over the other and watching some Spongebob Squarepants, her hair plaited into two braids as they try to dry. 

   “Good Morning Tracy. How are you?”

She looks at me, for the first time without a grimace or evil look on her face. Her mind was at ease, thoughts mostly on identifying the small child at my feet. 

   “It was nice to wake up when I want, take a shower with hot water for longer than 10 minutes. You have very nice soap by the way.”

 “Glad to see that you are enjoying the amenities. I came to see if you would like to join us downstairs for breakfast?”

 Tracy looks down To my knees where Kalen has wrapped himself around my right side.

“I take it that means the two of you. Who might this be?”

 I kneel down to Kalen’s level and smile at him in comfort as he tries to put his hand in his mouth.

   “Baby this my good friend Tracy. Can you say hi to her for me? Hand out your mouth please young sir.”

 I say pulling his hand out his mouth gently and he doesn’t try to put it back. Instead he gives a small wave at her. 

    “Tracy this is Kalen.”

  “Don’t tell me you had a baby. I didn’t come here to be your live-in-teenaged babysitter.”

She says lightheartedly and stands to her feet. I laugh and stand up tall again.

   “Yes I had a child and no I did not bring you here to watch him. I can take care of Kalen just fine thank you. So are you coming down or not?”

   “I can’t eat air now can I?” Sarcasm drips from her but I’m just grateful it wasn’t malice.

   “No but a fist is not too far off.”

 I joke and go over to my closet, while Kalen mindlessly becomes entranced by the TV. Tracy surprises me by putting him in the bed so he could watch. I looked in my closet and decided on something to wear, snapping my fingers into a pair of jeans and a tank top covered with a coral colored kimono coverup.

 Tracy had followed me to the closet, but stood there looking as if she wanted something but didn’t know what to say.

   “ I get nervous when you are silent like that. Something on your mind?”

 I look at her again, her left foot draws a small pattern on the plush carpet.

   “I just...ummm”

 I scan her mind again. She needed a change in clothes but didn’t know how to ask me. I go into my closet and find something for her to wear. I hold out a hoodie and pants for her, and she takes them, heading toward the bathroom to change.

  “You know Tracy, for the record you don’t have to ask me for clean clothes. Take your time and come down when you are ready.”

 I leave with Kalen and a smile...

 The downstairs was bustling with activity as we met for breakfast in the actual formal dining room because there were so many of us in the manor. Bruce was having his normal coffee and toast, Alfred to his left, Diana and Victor were discussing some new discoveries on the human genome based on an article they both read, and Barry was about to begin inhaling the enormous plate of food in front of him. Ms. A and Martha jumped to their feet, both holding me tight. I sighed and just let myself be embraced by my adoptive mothers. 

  “I am so glad Clark found you.” Mrs. Martha says with tears in her eyes.

I hug them back, taking in their different scents while both of them still smelled familiar to me.

 “I am glad he found me too. Thank you both for helping with Kalen.”

 “You never have to thank us for that.”

 Ms. Alphonse says to me with a smile and turns to look at Kalen who is just excited to see them, gives both women their hugs and tries to get breakfast. I sat next to him and helped make a plate for him. Idle chatter circulated until I could feel Tracy come down stairs. She had actually not decided to wear what I gave her, deciding on a white summer dress and beige and rope colored sandals. With the two buns on the top of her head and no make up she actually looked like the teenager she was rather than what others had tried to make her.

  “Come on in Tracy, you have to be hungry.”

She is nervous, and unsure of what to do so I kicked a chair out slightly for her with a smirk. She relaxes enough to sit down and grabs some toast. 

 “So Tracy I take it you will be staying for a while.”

She nodded at Bruce’s question.

       “Yes.”

She was nervous and didn’t trust anyone.I sent calming energy her direction. She is nervous that someone will take her food away, this  breaks my heart so I reach over and scoop some eggs on her plate, then Clark comes bounding down the stairs, his energy high and his emotions calm, they only change slightly at Tracy, because he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. Truthfully, none of them were sure about Tracy, but I wasn’t giving up on her. Clark is smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to do good for anyone and especially not Tracy any good by treating her badly.

  “Morning everyone.”

He fluffs Kalen’s hair and pours himself a coffee. Kalen for all the toddler trouble he gave Clark while I was gone was still basically obsessed with his father, and judging by the way Clark emotions were ecstatic every time Kalen even looked at him he was too. As soon as Clark sits down he doesn’t have a moment before Kalen is crawling over to his lap. He tries to reach for the hot coffee but Clark pulls it away.

   “Oh no. No coffee for you just yet. I’d say you got at least 15 more years before that becomes a thing. You want some more eggs?”

   “No. I wan co-fee”

I shake my head and push Kalen’s plate toward Clark.

  “Kalen, you heard him say no, so no means no. Besides, your dad looks really hungry. He is going to eat your food.”

Clark raises his eyebrows at Kalen as if to say he didn’t know, but he had better make a choice, When Kalen doesn’t go to eat, Clark picks up a piece of sausage and slowly bring it to his mouth and Kalen starts to whimper and then cry, his hair turning fire truck red. I laugh as Clark hands the link to him and goes back to his coffee, and then Kalen becomes very involved in his food and his hair turns back to its dark color. 

    “So Gia you weren’t going to tell me you got busy with Superman.”

Tracy asks me with a smirk and the room gets silent. I laugh which significantly reduces the tension in the room.

  “Well telling you who my baby fava is not high on the to-do list.”

I joke and cut into my waffle...

 *Later*

   “So I’ve been doing some more research. I tracked Clark’s flight pattern last night via satellite monitors. Good News is that I found a clear path from there to here, bad news is that  the facility was destroyed 30 minutes after you left. Controlled explosions leveled the place, but not before their computer system backed up to a remote server.”

 We were all down in the batcave, while Kalen, Martha and Ms. A were all upstairs. Victor was sitting in front of the computer typing away, trying to get more information. I was leaning on his shoulder, while Bruce leaned on the other side next to one of the other screens. 

  “So what does that mean?”

   “It means that unless I can get access to the hard database servers then my access to this data is limited. I, however, did a little more digging. The building before it was destroyed was shelled out to a bunch of companies, before ultimately belonging to the government.”

 I stepped back slightly, mostly in disbelief.

   “What, the Government? You are telling me the government is in on abducting kids and making them experiments?”

    “I don’t know who is into what. I was able to glean a little information during its transfer to offsite. Does the city of Freeland, Georgia mean anything to you Gia?”

A/n: So as I mentioned at the beginning of this I mentioned this would be shorter, hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. This story is becoming a way to take my mind off everything else while we are all on lockdown! I am already done with chapter 20 and whew....

That’s all I am going to tell y’all! 

Thank you for reading, you all are awesome and make this thing called tumblr fun for me. 

TAGLIST (Still open just let me know if you would like to be added)

@thethirstyarchive​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @romyr4​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​

@kmcmpmd​ @winchwm​

[currentlyreadingmanga]

Toilet-bound Hanako-kun Chapter 18: Mitsuba (Part 1)

Previously: we wrapped up the little mermaid arc. Hanako and Yashiro’s relationship continues to evolve while they figure out where they stand and how they want to move forward. In relation to that, Hanako confirmed that the person he killed was his younger twin brother and he promised to tell Yashiro the whole story in the future. We also met what I assume will be our complete group of antagonists (at least for the time being): Natsuhiko, Sakura and Hanako’s brother. Their dynamic so far seems to be (surprisingly) quite playful and lively, but also Hanako’s brother murdered the puffer fish with such glee that I just  (;;⚆_⚆)

Now onto the next chapter!

Welp, I didn’t intend to take another long break but life happened and I have the attention span of a goldfish. As a way to also make myself stick to a schedule, I’m gonna try my best to do these recaps as regularly as possible. We’ll see how that goes.

This time we open with Kou and his friends talking about a rumor that says that the entrance to the middle school is haunted. I’m guessing this means that this arc will be a little more Kou-centric? Especially since he and Hanako were the ones in the cover of this new volume. I wonder if he’s gonna do his own thing with Hanako and/or Yashiro chiming in like in The Young Exorcist Arc, because that would be cool.

Okay, so apparently the ghost grabs you when you’re changing your shoes. And judging by the ominous “Hey” speech bubble, I’m guessing this rumor is true just like the others, then (not like I was expecting anything else, but still) Also Kou’s friends are very cute, they look like they deserve hair ruffles.

(ﾟдﾟ；) Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) JFC that’s much more terrifying that I thought it would be. Also!!! does that head angle give anyone else crooked man vibes? no? because it’s giving me some horrible flashbacks to that game.

The chapter cover page here is that image (from ch 16) that has our three babies looking ready to tell some ghost stories. I wonder if it’s something that this site did or if the volume itself repeats this page. Nevertheless, I still love this page, they look very very cute.

The title this time is “Mitsuba”, which sounds like a name and I’m only saying that because I think I might have heard of another character with that name. Then again, my japanese is very limited, so I could be completely wrong. If it IS a name, I’m guessing it’s gonna be our crooked man’s over there since most chapters so far were named after the different supernaturals. 

Moving on, Kou shows the ghost that he decided to mess with the wrong guy by promptly throwing them against the shoe lockers. RIP ghost (again).

Oh! Kou says that the ghost is wearing a school uniform, so he was possibly a student here. Interesting! Now, we don’t know when this boy died, but this means that Hanako isn’t the only ghost that has an attachment to this school. The question then would be why this boy is here specifically and not somewhere else.

OH!!!!!! There he is!! He’s the pink-haired boy, right?? Okay, so, it’s been a while, but I mentioned that I had seen two spoilers when my instagram feed decided to betray me. One was Hanako’s brother and the other was this boy here! I saw him two times in two pieces of fanart with Kou. I didn’t know he would appear so soon! Ohhhhhh that’s exciting! I’m guessing he must be important in some way, right? He looks really cute! and now I feel bad about the crooked man comment (even though his neck really looked kinda funky in that one panel). Are they gonna become friends?? Is Kou gonna expand his friend list to two (2) ghost friends?.......oh, god, I hope Teru doesn’t object to this one too. Well, no, I don’t think he would; he wants to exorcise Hanako because he considers him a danger to the school (and I’m not saying that Hanako doesn’t have the power to hurt others but like…….his brother really seems like the bigger threat right now ngl……...Although, do they even know about him? Because we know that Kou’s grandmother (?) was the one to seal Hanako away and his family knows that he killed “someone”, but do they know about his twin?)

Hey, there’s my other two children! So they are gonna be involved in this arc as well, cool.

OMFG KOU! Sweetie, no! Like, I get it, he’s a ghost that tried to grab you and he could have hurt someone but he looks so helpless, like a scared puppy! I get tying him up but was the duct tape on the face really necessary? I mean, no one else besides the other supernaturals and Yashiro and Teru would have heard him, right? I can’t even be mad at him tho, look at how excited he is about catching a ghost  ಥ‿ಥ    

Anyway, it seems like he went to Hanako to check how he could deal with the ghost. And awwww!! It’s because he doesn’t want to exorcise him, either! He’s really committed to this new path, huh? Good on you, Kou, I’m so proud. 

Hanako gives the boy a long silent look and tells Kou that since the ghost is there probably because of some unfinished business, that means he should help him solve whatever they are. I mean, if countless movies have taught me anything, it is that this plan should probably work.

Omfg Kou just keeps yanking this little ghost boy around. Please be careful with the ghost child. Yashiro shows her concern over the idea (understandable, Kou can be overly enthusiastic and we don’t know anything about this new boy). Hanako says it’ll be fine and he also confirms that the boy is not really dangerous now (the “now” is kinda concerning, though (⚆.⚆) …..but then again, since I saw him and Kou in fanarts, I’m guessing things will turn out okay), and that if things take a turn for the worse, it’s just more work for him because he’s the mediator. Hmmm, that’s quite a solemn look on his face. I think he mentioned this when we met the mokke as Yousei-san, but he wants to avoid killing/getting rid off apparitions whenever possible, right? That’s why having Yashiro as his assistant works in his favour. So that means that he probably doesn’t want to have to “deal” with this ghost, but since that’s the nature of his role, he has no other choice if push comes to shove.

(ALSO, this is a side note but it just hit me: since Hanako doesn’t seem to know this ghost, that means that he’s new? or maybe that he recently acquired the ability to manifest? could it be because of the rumors? like, he was just doing his own thing and suddenly the rumors forced him to haunt the entrance?)

Anyway, we cut back to Kou and ghost boy.

Omfg this poor child. Kou, please untie him before he starts crying.

……………………………...oh my god. I- well, I expected many things but this was not one of them. Like, he has every right to be angry but wow this child has a mouth on him. But also it could be because of the way it’s translated but it’s very funny to me that his insults range from “i hope you drop dead” to “dummy head” pffft.

I-..... He’s really nothing like I expected omg what. Sweetie, breath, trust me when I say Kou would be one of the last people to even think about doing something like that.

OMFG I JUST SCROLLED

Pffffffffft why is that so funny?? I can’t be the only one that  read that in the spongebob narrator voice.

But yeah, it looks like he got it all out of his system. Now Kou is trying to maintain his “cool guy facade” so that ghost boy will respect him (I think it’s gonna take more than that to achieve it, but we’ll see). He also tells him that he comes from a family of exorcists but that backfires spectacularly because the boy basically calls him an otaku. RIP Kou, he really can’t catch a break pffft

Ghost boy keeps being sassy and that makes Kou threaten him with his staff. Good thing he doesn’t know that it’s sealed and that it doesn’t really work.

Hey! His name really is Mitsuma (thank god, I can finally stop calling him ghost boy). He really isn’t the cooperative type, huh? Also what’s that bottom left face omfg Please just let Kou know, he just wants to help.

Like, I know they’re brothers but wow Kou looks so much like Teru right here, scary face and all. But yeah, anyway. A picture? Like, he lost a picture that he treasured? Or maybe he wants to take one? Or he wanted to take a picture with someone else?

Ohhhh, okay. So he was part of the photography club and there was a picture he wanted to take before he died. Or so he thinks. So like, do you lose part of your memories when you die? If so, could it be because of the passage of time or as defense mechanism of some sort? If his camera is still at the club, then that probably means that he was a student here not too long ago.

We cut to Kou helping Mitsuba take some pictures (and being attacked by birds in the process), And from the looks of it, it’s all on purpose and Mitsuba is having way too much fun with the power he has lol Kou, in turn, keeps zapping him with his staff when Mitsuba gets too cocky. Boy, these two already have quite the dynamic, I can’t even imagine how chaotic they’re gonna get in the future.

Kou then points out that Mitsuba has taken pictures of scenery and animals but none of people. Mitsuba admits that pictures of people are better if you want to win awards but then cuts himself off. Hmmm. Does he like to take pictures of nature better because of his artistic style or could there be a deeper meaning behind it? 

Here’s your reminder that I really really love Kou  ಥ‿ಥ He’s such a good boy I just  ಥ‿ಥ  ಥ‿ಥ 

“I’ll pass” PFFFFFFFFFFT these two give me whiplash, I swear. Mitsuba is freaking brutal (and I’m kinda living for it ngl).

Hey, one of Kou’s friends, Yokoo, is back! 

Oh????? Did Mitsuba went to the school recently? Were they in the same year??? Kou didn’t look like he recognized him, so maybe he was in a different class?

Ah, they actually were in the same class during their first year. Is Kou in his last year of middle school? So….they were in the same class two years ago? 

Oh no. Mitsuba died sometime last winter in an accident. It looks like he has a big scar on the back of his neck; if that’s how he died, it seems like it was quite painful. This poor child ;; Yokoo mentions that they weren’t really that close to him (and that’s very clear considering Kou’s reaction). I wonder why Mitsuba didn’t say anything. But then again, Kou didn’t really give him any signals to work with, I guess he just decided to keep quiet.

Oh! It looks like Kou is remembering something now that he’s been reminded. 

oh my god…...look at them…….babies ;;; they look so young ;;;;;; what happen??? why did they stop talking?? just because they were in different classes?

Oh, that’s…….that’s heartbreaking. To desperately reach out, again and again, and to come out empty handed every time. And I feel like it’s such a common fear too, the possibility of being forgotten by everyone you care about. That would be such a hit to your own self-worth. Oh, sweetheart….This poor baby needs so many hugs.

[blush-meyers]

You Shouldn’t Be Alone on a Holiday

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Blush

Warnings: Mentions of a car crash

Words: 1583

Notes: Mush is Jewish! This is eventually gonna be part of a bigger Blush work, I think, but for now it’s just this. AO3 link

“C’mon, Blink, it’ll be fun!” Mush insisted, jiggling his leg from where he sat on the bus stop’s bench. “It’s not like there’s anything to be scared of. It’s just me and my parents, and you know they love you. I mean, they’ve practically adopted you at this point. So please?”

Blink sighed, his breath coming out in a sharp puff of vapor in the cold air. “I dunno, Mush. Wouldn’t it be kinda… invasive?” He murmured, furrowing his eyebrows and glancing over at Mush.

“Invasive? Are you kidding? You’ve been coming over to my house for, like, a thousand years. You have a key. Nothing you could do would be invasive.” Blink stayed quiet for a few moments, nervously mulling his thoughts over.

“Okay, but… this is, like, a religious thing, and I’m not Jewish. I don’t wanna make it weird. Or… uncomfortable. Something like that.”

“You won’t. I promise. My parents would love to have you there.” Mush paused, his tone shifting to something more careful. “Look. I know you and your mom haven’t celebrated anything since…”

“Since Dad died.” Blink finished for him.

“Yeah. Since that. So I figured you’d miss it. And my Dad makes really good latkes. Oh- and there’s gonna be chocolate. Like, shitty gelt chocolate, but chocolate.” Mush finished his thought with a hopeful grin, cocking his head as he looked up at Blink.

Blink frowned for a few moments, but his resolve quickly crumbled under Mush’s gaze. In truth, he couldn’t deny anything his best friend asked of him, so he knew it really wasn’t worth pushing it further. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll come.”

Mush beamed at him as they stepped onto the bus, clapping Blink on the shoulder as soon as they sat down. “Great! I’ll walk over and get you before dinner, okay? Oh, man, it’s gonna be so much fun, we never have people over for Hanukkah. All my Mom’s family lives way far away, and, you know, we don’t talk to Dad’s family, so…”

Mush rambled on as the bus pulled back into the street, and Blink couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Mush only stopped talking when they were back home, and the two boys split off at the elevator of their apartment building, each heading opposite ways down the hall. 

“I’ll see you later tonight!” Mush called with a grin and a wave, before disappearing through his front door. Blink raised his hand in return, and took a slow breath before stepping into his own home.

As usual, the apartment was quiet and dark. Blink couldn’t hear the TV, so his mom wasn’t home; as such, Blink opted to do his homework in the kitchen, so he could fix himself a snack beforehand.

These days, the apartment was silent nearly all the time, save for the sound of the TV. Blink’s mom wasn’t a cruel person; not by any means; but since his dad’s death, she’d grown distant, and cold, and paid much less attention to Blink than she had in his younger days.

Absently, Blink reached under his patch and traced the scar there as he thought of his dad. Vague images flashed through his mind; a rainy day, heavy traffic flow, loud music blaring from the radio, bursts of laughter, squealing tires, crunching metal, a sharp pain in his eye, a crushing pain in his chest- Blink forcefully shook his head to clear his thoughts, and sat down to start on his Algebra work.

A few hours passed and Blink had finished all his work. He was stretched out on the couch, watching SpongeBob on the TV at a low volume. He wasn’t paying attention; his mind had drifted back to the accident and his dad, and eventually to the holidays his family used to celebrate together. He was lost in a memory about Christmas morning, years ago, when he was jolted out of it by a knock and a voice at the door.

“Blink? I’m coming in!” Mush called from the other side, stepping through the door a moment later. Blink shut the TV off and pushed himself off the couch, straightening his shirt up as he stood. “Hey, Mushy. Time for dinner already?”

“Yup! Mom told me to come grab ya. You ready to come over?”

“Yeah. Just gotta make sure the lights and TV and shit are off, and everything’s locked.”

“Word. Hurry, though, a bitch wants latkes.”

Both Mush’s parents greeted Blink with tight hugs, and he was immediately passed a plate so full of food he almost didn’t know what to do with it. Blink’s initial anxiety quickly wore off as the Meyers joked and laughed around the dinner table, and eventually, he joined in.

The Hanukkah celebrations themselves filled him with a soft, warm type of feeling that Blink hadn’t felt since his last Christmas. Watching Mush’s dad light the candles, hearing Mush’s family recite prayers and songs (which, kindly, Mush’s mom taught Blink the words to), and, especially, the joyful, sparkling light in Mush’s eyes all made Blink’s heart feel full and light.

Afterwards, Mush’s parents went to cuddle in the living room (which Mush teasingly insisted was gross, cause you guys are old,), Blink and Mush ended up back at the kitchen table, playing dreidel.

“Shoot, man, I don’t know how you keep winning so much! You’re gonna take all my gelt!” Mush exclaimed, as Blink spun his fourth gimel and dragged the chocolate coins on the table towards himself.

Blink shot him a lazy grin, unwrapping one of the coins and popping it into his mouth. “Guess I’m just better at this than you, Mushy man.”

“Nah. Beginner’s luck.” Mush gently kicked Blink’s shin under the table, still grinning.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, smiling warmly at each other. Slowly, Mush reached over the table, and his fingertips grazed over Blink’s knuckles. Blink let them linger there for a while, before stretching his own fingers out and wordlessly threading them into the spaces between Mush’s. Mush blinked slowly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as Blink rubbed his thumb back and forth along Mush’s hand.

And then Mush’s mom walked in, and the boys jerked their hands apart, Blink shoving his under the table and Mush fiddling with the dreidel. If his mom noticed the sudden change in energy, she didn’t say anything.

Instead, she fixed Blink with a gentle smile. “Your mom just called. She wants you to head back home before too long. School night and all.” She reached out and ruffled Blink’s hair before continuing. “Feel free to come over again tomorrow night if you want to, okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Meyers.” Blink smiled with a quick nod. “I’ll… think about that.”

“Please do. Goodnight, Louis.” She turned to look at Mush before she left, and added, “You should head to bed soon too, Nick. I don’t want you staying up past midnight again.”

Blink stood up and shoved the rest of the gelt in his pocket, and Mush groaned a little, idly spinning the dreidel on the table. “You really gotta go home now?”

“‘Fraid so.” Blink responded, loosely crossing his arms. “You know how she gets when I get home later than she expects.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Mush hopped up from the table, dropping the dreidel down in the middle of it. “I’ll walk you over.”

Blink said a quick goodbye to Mush’s dad as they left, along with another promise that he’d think about coming over again the next night. As soon as they were in the hall of the apartment building, Mush silently hooked their pinkies together, and the boys stayed like that as they walked towards Blink’s apartment. Their shoulders occasionally brushed together as they went, and neither one spoke until they stood in front of Blink’s door, and turned to face each other.

Mush was the first one to break the silence. “That was fun. Thanks for letting me drag you over.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Blink fell silent again for a moment, before reluctantly unhooking his pinky from Mush’s. “So, uh… tomorrow, too? You want me to come over at the same time?”

“Yeah. I’d really like that.” Mush smiled.

Neither boy made a move to increase the distance between them. They stood close enough that Mush swore he could count every freckle on Blink’s face, even in the shitty fluorescent lighting. He reached out and slowly ran a hand up Blink’s arm, stopping to rest it on his shoulder. Blink responded by gingerly, almost hesitantly, placing a hand on Mush’s waist, and both boys stilled again. The silence grew heavy, and finally Blink stepped backwards. “So- yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet you out front for the bus.”

“Yeah.” Mush breathed, stepping back and jamming his hands in his pockets. “I’ll… yeah.” He bit his lip, furrowing his brows for a moment before breaking into a small, nervous-looking smile. “Night, Blink.”

“Night, Mush.”

Late that night, both boys lay in bed, the weight of all the unspoken things between them weighing heavily in their chests. Separately, they both rolled over and picked their phones up, sending texts to each other at the same time;

“I really hope u come back over tomorrow night”

“i think im gonna come back over tomorrow”

Both boys laughed to themselves, and sent back a final reply before rolling over and going to sleep.

“Okay, good. Gn for real now”

“gn mush”

[cocojimin]

Not So Terrible Twos

Mornings were when the house was starkly quiet. The only audible noises were the sleeping sounds of your family and the hum of the appliances in your home. This usually lasted until 9 o’clock in the morning when Duke would wake up and the jingling of his collar could be heard. You were always the first person awake,it was just a habit for you. 

You rub your eyes and turn over to see your two favorite boys cuddling. Your heart lurched in your chest seeing this beautiful sight before you,taking a quick picture so you can hold onto this moment forever. Today was Calum’s first completely free day since the boys have started writing another album. 

You quietly slipped down the white carpeted stairs and into the kitchen,deciding on making your boys a nice breakfast. Waffles,bacon and some fruit sounded good. Starting to prepare the waffle batter and heat the iron,you heard a timid voice call down the stairs. 

“Mumma? I’m ‘wake” Jaxon whispered,making you grin at the fact that your baby boy always followed instructions. You told him that when the baby gate was open,he always had to ask you to get him so he doesn’t hurt himself. Grabbing his dainty golden hand,you waltzed him down the stairs,letting him roam to his playroom. 

“Bubby,is Daddy awake?” “No,Daddy eyes still closed.” You chuckled knowing Calum would be sleeping in on his off day. That man worked to hard for hours on end so you knew not to bother him in his precious resting time.

The food was prepared and kept warm as you retrieved your bouncing son. Jaxon was led upstairs to his room and quickly changed into his lounge wear as you had no plans,just wanting to get him out of his pajamas. His pull up was discarded and he put on his ‘big boy pants like daddy’. 

Soft grey jogging pants and a snug white shirt adorned the baby boy as comfortable socks were slipped on his feet. His two braids were taken down and his hair was combed out,his curls bouncing blooming with every brush stroke. Down the stairs you two went and to Jaxons high chair. You strapped him in and placed his warm food in front of him with a sippy cup with orange juice. 

The television was cut on and turned to his favorite show: Spongebob Squarepants. You would be lying if you said this wasn’t the household favorite. Soon,you came to the conclusion that you had to wake your exhausted husband up. 10 am was fairly late and you were positive that his stomach was grumbling from hunger.

This moment is always the worst part for you. You hated waking him up out of his needed sleep,but you had no other option. 

Underneath a thin duvet laid Calum,sprawled out on the mattress with light snores leaving his parted lips. The light cut through the gap in the curtains and illuminated his tanned skin,the black ink of the countless tattoos being brought to life against the sunshine. This lightning pointed out this flawless aura of your husband as a hand gently brushed back his black curls. He looked more youthful when he slept,almost childlike. 

Jaxon was a spitting image of his father,a bright eyed brown boy with luscious curls and a smile to die for. Calum stirred away,gently fluttering his thick eyelashes before his hazy gaze laid on you. 

A smile flashed onto his face as he let out a yawn and started to stretch,groaning with the crackle of his bones. He knew why you were waking him,hell he could smell why you were waking him. His toned legs swung out of the bed as his full frame stood up straight. 

“Mm,good morning dollface,” Calum said as he wrapped his arms around you and indulged in your scent. “I made breakfast Cal,Jax is downstairs waiting for you,” you said with a smile,watching Calum untangle himself from you and rush downstairs leaving his posterior in your view. 

“Oh Bubba,” “Daddy,m-morning.” Jaxon was chewing a piece of bacon as he wiggles around in his chair,silently begging Calum to hold him.

Sitting down to eat,Calum unclipped Jaxon from his seat and sat him on his lap. The three of you ate in silence,paying attention to the yellow sponge gracing your flatscreen. 

“Doll,how do you feel about Ash coming over for a bit?” “Oh that’s great,I’ve missed my ‘momosa’ buddy.” A giggle left your lips as you recalled Ashton being the only one to partake in your Mimosa hybrids when you were pregnant.

You got the idea off of Instagram and needed somebody to test out the recipes for the non-alcoholic treat. Ashton was walking out of the game room from playing Call of Duty with Calum when he saw you furrowing your brow at the concoction. 

“Hey Y/N,Whatcha making?” Ashton didn’t even let you answer before his large hand wrapped around the glass,taking a large gulp. “Damn! This is really good!” “It’s called a ‘Momosa’,Mimosa for pregnant women like myself,” hand subconsciously rubbing your protruding belly. 

You spent the next hour whipping up different flavors of the drink with Ashton by your side doing the taste testing. It was always nice to have a companion around while your other girlfriends were busy. Him and Calum were bestfriends and it only made sense that he would be the godfather to your unborn child. You decided on Ash after you noticed how responsible he was with the arrival of the new addition looming. He would come over to help paint the nursery,build the furniture with Calum,watch after you when Calum had to run errands,He even went to a fatherhood class with Calum.

Jaxon became giddy after hearing the name of his lovely godfather fall from his fathers lips. Jaxon and Ashtons love was undeniable. He was the first to hold Jax after the two of you,and he shed a tear looking at his godson. He would spoil the little Hood every chance he got,coming over with clothes,toys,or books to share with the baby. 

The kitchen was tidied up as Calum let Ashton know to be on his way. Jaxon was running around the family room with Duke when Ash came through the front door,seeing as he has a spare key. 

“Well hello family!” 

“Hey Ash,” You said as Jax squealed and ran right into Ashton’s direction. Ashton scooped the boy up before he ran into his legs. 

A smirk was shared between the two men before Ash came and gave you a half bear hug,telling you he’s missed hanging around your house. You get suspicious as he takes Jax upstairs and into his room,telling him to pack himself a small bag. 

“Calum are you being sneaky again?” 

“No! Me? Never doll,you have the wrong person.” Ashton come down the stairs with Jax,a small grey hoodie to match his joggers zipped up on his chest and his small white high top converse on his baby feet. His special made black book bag with his name sew into the front pocket and patches adorning it was on his tiny shoulders. 

“And where do you two think your going?” 

“Well if you may know,I’m taking him to get some ice cream then we’re gonna swing by Luke’s place and have a little sleepover,” 

Ash flashed you a bright and innocent smile making you cross your arms and look between the three boys in your presence. 

“I just knew there was something up,” dropping to your knees,you fixed Jaxon’s outfit,giving his cubby face an abundance of kisses before tugging him into a big hug. “Bye Mumma,bye Daddy,Ill see you later,” Jax hugged you back,placing a kiss on your nose before going over to Cal and doing the same.

Ash and Jax left the house and it was your turn to pester Cal with questions. Before you could do that though,his large hands were in your waist and his lips found yours. 

The passion behind the kiss was dizzying and his hands roaming your body was blissful. He wanted to get Jaxon out of the house for a long overdue night filled with lust and love. The bedroom door was flung up by the heel of Calum’s foot as he carried you bridal style,lips on your neck and your hands in his hair. You silently thanked the heavens for the best godfather ever seeing as your night with Calum had just begun.

Terrible Twos

Masterlist

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[searchin-for-an-urchin]

Like a Punch in the Gut Aaron Burr x Reader Chapter 10

Forever Tag @fangirlandnerd

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9  Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Masterlist

The conversation between you and Nathaniel ended with the two of you exchanging contact information. You admitted that you weren’t sure if you were ready for him to be a part of Charlotte’s life and he agreed. The two of you would think on it for a few days. After you and Aaron had left the restaurant, you finally felt like you could breathe a bit more. Trying to process everything that had just happened, you remained silent for a few blocks. Subconsciously along the way you start giggling. The two of you pause in your tracks as your giggles turn into full out laughter. You notice Aaron’s eyebrow cocked as he observes your laughter, and you try to control your laughs a little more.

    “I’m sorry,” you say in between the subsiding giggles, “I really don’t know how to process what just happened.” When your eyes catch his again you see him looking as if he’s trying not to laugh either.

        “I’ll admit that’s not a part of the date that I planned.” When you can catch your breath, you feel a bit relieved. “Shall we head on to the next destination?” You tilt your head to the side with a smirk on your face and retort,

    “You sure you can handle all the random parts of my past popping up?” Aaron answers your question with a genuine smile.

        “I absolutely insist learning more about you, Y/N.”  

    Hand in hand, the two of you walk off to the next place; an arcade. You think to yourself that this isn’t like the arcades you and John grew up with, oh no. This was an arcade full of video games, large crane machines, and prizes on prizes. Aaron saw the look of your amazed face and laughed. Tugging your hand slightly to follow him he walked up to the customer service counter and asked to speak to the owner. After taking his name, the employee went into the presumed office space and requested the presence of the owner, a man in his 50’s, who greeted Aaron with a handshake and a hug. Aaron greeted back with the same energy and then introduced you as his date. The man, Greg, as he said to call him, did a double take when he heard your name.

    “Wait,” he questions, shaking your hand, “Y/N as in the mother of the girl who decked Theodosia?” With a forced chuckle from both you and Aaron, you confirm that yes, you are Charlotte’s mother.

    “Good!” Greg exclaimed. “I’m glad the two of you finally got to go on a date.” Aaron’s arm reaches around you and settles on your hip as Greg continues to talk, very clearly trying to embarass him.

        “How do you two know each other?” You ask Greg.

    “Oh, Aaron was my lawyer years ago when a rival arcade tried to sue me. They were trying to blame me for the way my crane machines were manufactured, saying they were rigged to be successful, which is why everyone came to my place.”

        “It was my first solo case,” Aaron chimes in, as you look in astonishment in his direction.

    “His first win, too,” Greg says with a laugh. “Mr. Burr here has been my go to for legal advice since. Here,” he pauses, grabbing a card from his back pocket. “Go play, have fun, on the house. Just make sure to stop by before you leave.”

    You and Aaron thank Greg profusely, with both of you saying it wasn’t necessary, but he just waves you off, leaving the two of you to decide where to start. Since the cranes were the both of you attempt to grab a Pokemon plush for the girls. Twenty credits later, you have a Squirtle and a Charmander plush sticking out of your crossbody purse that you now are grateful you brought. Moving on from the cranes, the video games catch your eye next. After kicking his butt multiple times on the motorcycle racing game (“This isn’t fair, you actually learned how to drive, you didn’t grow up in New York!”), and having your own handed to you on the Tekken Tag game, (“Oh-ho-ho, vengeance is mine, dear Y/N!”), the two of you wander over to some goofier games, like the hopscotch game.

    You fail pretty spectacularly on your first attempt. Glancing over at Aaron you notice that he’s laughing in your direction, trying to keep it hidden under his hand.

    “What?” you say, with a grin on your face. “Hopscotch wasn’t really my favorite game growing up. John never played it with me!” You turn your attention back to the screen where a measly “15” was displaying. Aaron comes up on your left, places a quick peck on your cheek and scooches you out of the way. Feeling a little starstruck because of the kiss, you barely register your date taunting,

    “Excuses, excuses. Let me show you how it’s done.” Aaron hits the 101 hops jackpot in less than a minute and a half, leaving you speechless, even without the kiss on the cheek. Watching the tickets pour out, you sputter,

        “Are you kidding me?!”

    “And that, my dear, is how it’s done.” For the next hour you spend competing with each other in the basketball game, skeeball, whack-a-mole, even a jump rope game, and compile a large pile of tickets. Realizing you don’t really need to spend all the tickets, you each pick out a small prize. Aaron chooses a fun pen that he swears he’ll use at work, and you a desktop sized dinosaur that sings “Dynamite” to annoy John, Peggy, and Lauren at work every once in a while (more like every dang day). You decide to leave the tickets for the next kid coming in to enjoy.

    Greg wishes both of you a goodnight as the two of you leave the arcade. Noticing how barren the streets were you glance at your phone for the first this evening and realize how long you went without thinking about the restaurant or how Peggy and John were doing with Charlie.

    “What time did you need to pick up Theo?” You ask, grabbing his hand, intertwining your fingers. Aaron squeezes your hand and answers,

        “She’s spending the night with the Hamiltons. I couldn’t plan for how long we would spend in the arcade, and Theo was overdue for a sleepover with Pip and Angie anyway.” After a few moments, he questions, “What do you think Charlotte and her aunt and uncle are up to?” You snort at the image that comes to mind.

    “Well. If I know John, he’s probably asleep while Peggy and Charlie are painting his nails for the fun of it. They’ll probably watch the Spongebob movie at least one more time and fall asleep during the credits.” Aaron lets out a whistle and responds with an astonished voice,

        “That’s really specific, Y/N.”

    “Well, before Lauren came to the restaurant, there weren’t too many people I trusted to run my kitchen so I worked a lot of evenings where John or Peggy would watch Charlotte.”

        “It’s hard being a single parent,” your date mentions.

    “I imagine it’s a bit harder being a widowed single parent, Aaron,” you remind him. He just hums in agreement, and then adds,

        “It was hard for both of us. Theodosia Sr. was killed in a car crash when Theo was 5. She couldn’t quite understand why her mom wasn’t coming home, or why her mom looked like she was sleeping. I wasn’t prepared to teach her about death that way, you know?” Aaron asks the hypothetical question, slowing down the walk just a tad, and you squeeze his hand to show that you understand.

“I don’t think she ever really got to mourn. Her memories from her mom are so few and far between that it almosts hurts for her to remember. It’s also why I haven’t really dated since. In fact,” he admits, stopping in his stride and turning to face you, “It took me until Charlotte punched Theo in the face to even talk to you.”

    “Wait, what?” You say, incredulously, a smile and a blush gracing your face.

“Yeah, I noticed you at one of the open houses for the school and just never had the nerve to start up a conversation. I’m really surprised Theo hasn’t told you,” he explains, watching your face and starting to smile himself. “I kept asking her to make friends with Charlotte, and she just kept saying no.”

“Look where they are now,” you interject, with a giggle escaping your smile.

“Yeah. Look where we are, too.” The two of you continue back to your apartment as the conversation dwindles slightly. A weight on your shoulders is suggesting that you talk about Nathaniel, even though you weren’t sure what you were going to do. I mean, the guy had to decide if he even wanted to meet Charlotte, let alone be a part of her life.

    “Hey, Aaron?”

“Yes?” He hums in response.

    “I would like to tell you about Nathaniel, but I’m a bit unsure if I should.” You can feel his thumb running over the back of your hand in order to soothe you.

“Y/N, you’re welcome to share anything with me, but you don’t have to, especially if you would like to wait. I would like to be around as long as you’ll have me,” he assures you, as he pulls the hand he’s holding up to his lips. He places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and you can’t help but lean into him.

    “For someone who hasn’t dated in years, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl,” you stammer out, trying to tease him, but being a little more affected than you want to admit because all of a sudden you find yourself tilting your head up towards his face and he’s tilting his head down towards you, and as your eyes are fluttering closed you hear him joke back in a similar manner,

“I’ve had some practice in the mirror.” Before you can react to the cheesy line that didn’t seem so cheesy you feel his breath on your lips and then your lips connect.

It was the best kiss you’ve had. Ever. While it was a little bit awkward and fumbly, you liked the way he felt. Soft enough for comfort, but firm that you were able to sink into him no problem. Breaking only slightly to regain air, your arms wrap around his neck and he catches you stumbling into his arms (which you swear was involuntary). Each kiss grew more sure and a little more coordinated, and each kiss brought you deeper into his arms.

*********************************************************************

    You walk the rest of the way home hand in hand. Kisses are shared every few minutes and quite a few are given on the elevator ride up to your floor. After you’ve successfully unlocked your door and shared a goodnight kiss, you find yourself taking another deep breath before walking further into your home. Before you can even sneak into the living room, you hear Peggy’s steps towards you, pulling you into your bedroom.

    “John actually stayed awake long enough to carry Charlie to bed, then he came back and crashed on the couch,” your best friend huffs out, rolling her eyes, before landing on your bed, taking you with her. “So, tell me everything!”

    You jokingly scold her for her curiosity and begin to recount the events of the night.

    “You ran into who?!” Peggy incredulously inquires when you get to the part at the end of your dinner.

        “I ran into Nathaniel, Charlotte’s dad.”

    “I thought you didn’t remember him?”

        “I didn’t,” you insist, “Until I saw him again. NYC is a large place, Peggy.” With a grimace, “He deserved to know that he has a daughter, too.”

    “Poor Aaron,” Peggy chuckles, “All he wanted was a date and he got an estranged father.”

        “Yeah,” you sigh. Aaron was such a good guy and you were still in shock with the way Nathaniel showed back up in your life, but you decided you’ll tell Aaron about him later. After giggling and gushing about the rest of the date, you and Peggy fall asleep leaving your daughter in her room and John on the couch. It was a late night afterall. And while the evening had some gut-wrenching moments, the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering around peacefully.

[frederator-studios]

Derek Iversen: The Frederator Interview

Derek Iversen began his unlikely career in animation as a PA on the very first season of Spongebob Squarepants. You might say he was got by The Hook: he spent about a decade with the show, on the production staff before becoming a writer on Seasons 6-9. Since then, he’s written on countless awesome TV shows, become an elected official in the neighborhood of Valley Glen (business card and all!), and created his own Nickelodeon short, “Carrot and Stick” inspired by his dog Rosie, whose image blesses the end of this interview. In honor of his episode of Bravest Warriors premiering tomorrow (5/18), Derek and I sat down to discuss sketch comedy, time travel, and a certain absorbent (and yellow and porous) friend.

Did you always want to be a writer? What’d you want to be growing up?

First I wanted to be a fireman. Then a police officer - huge jump there. Then I wanted to be an astronaut, until I realized I get motion sickness. So I thought I should be an astronomer - a little safer, little less barfing. But in 5th grade, my English teacher Mrs. Carrol gave me high marks on a short story assignment. I got really encouraged by that; I thought, “Hey, maybe I’ve found something I’m good at!” So pretty much from then on, I wanted to be a writer.

Wow, 5th grade? Were you a wunderkind, writing a ton as a kid?

Nah, I wasn’t that ambitious. In high school I took Theater with another great teacher, Mrs. Carrick. She encouraged us to write our own scenes and monologues. So I had the opportunity to try stuff out with my fellow students, and hopefully crack them up with idiocy. Then in college at University of Arizona, I joined a group called Comedy Corner and got really into sketch comedy. I thought if I could make a living doing that, THAT’s what I want to do. There’s nothing like doing live comedy before an audience. It’s thrilling.

Did you stick with comedy after college?

Some friends and I formed our own group! The People Who Do That. We became the kings of Tucson comedy… which, shockingly, didn’t pay the bills. So some of us decided to truck it out to LA to try to make it in the big city.

Did you have a job when you got to LA?

Nope, but I got a really stupid one: phone customer service for a pager company. Let me just say, the introduction of cell phones was NOT the only thing that killed off pagers… but I had a friend working at Nickelodeon, so I managed to get a job as a driver on The Angry Beavers. This was back in the olden days, when if artists needed reference materials, someone had to actually go pick them up from libraries or - RIP - video stores. Soon after, I got a job as a production assistant on a show that Nick had just picked up: Spongebob Squarepants. At the time we all thought, ‘This is a strange little show that hopefully will get a cult following.’ It did a little better than that. So that was kind of my ‘big break’. But it took me 7 years of working on the show to become a writer on it.

How did that path look?

Long and meandering. Because for some time, I thought I wanted to do sketch comedy, and that animation was my day job. I was a PA on seasons 1 to 3 and a coordinator on seasons 4 and 5. In that time I started chipping away at animation writing, because I had to actually learn how to write cartoons. I was used to writing for the stage, and animation is a visual medium. Much more so than even other kinds of TV, let alone theater, so I had to learn to tell stories visually. And stories that kids could relate to—I’d always written for adults, so my stuff went right over kid’s heads. But I wanted to write and kept knocking on the door, and in season 6, became a staff writer. I was one until season 9.

Do you think your background in sketch comedy aided that transition?

Oh yeah, absolutely. When you do a sketch in front of a big throng of crazy college students, it’s clear when it works and when it doesn’t. Sketch taught me not to waste the audience’s time: you get in, do the joke, and get out.

How was working on Spongebob? Any stories, secrets, lore?

It was a wild ride and a lot of fun. I’ve gotta be the only one who remembers this, but I swear it’s true: back in the first season, Steve (Hillenburg, creator) had a sign on his door that read, “Have fun or you’re fired.” It sounds cruel, but it actually set a good tone. We did have a lot of fun! And there wasn't much firing—it’s not like the hatchet fell every time somebody frowned. The crew had awesome camaraderie, and I think that’s reflected in the show. I sincerely believe the environment of a show, how it’s made, affects how it turns out. If a show is made with a tense crew where everyone fears the creator, it shows on-screen. Conversely, if the crew has fun and makes each other laugh, that’s clear on-screen too.

(Season 1 Christmas party: Ennio Torresan, Carly Benner-StClair, Bruce Heller, Mica Nataami, Carl (CH) Greenblatt, and Derek with the devil horns.) 

So despite the sign, no one was afraid of Steve Hillenburg?

No, no, the sign is misleading. He’s a total sweetheart. Success couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy: just a thoughtful, funny, sincere human being.

That’s exactly what you wanna hear about your heroes. What’s your favorite thing about the show?

Well Spongebob is definitely a reflection of Steve! As are the other characters, but mostly Spongebob. And to me, the greatest thing about the show, and the reason I think it’s been such a huge success, is that Spongebob is genuine. He’s without guile. He’s enthusiastic without any reservation. And I think, especially when the show came out, a lot of cartoons in the kid realm starred adults disguised as kids. And Spongebob was never that; he was always for kids, always had a kid’s spirit. That’s part of why we never defined his age: he has kid and adult qualities. He’s just sincere—and sincerity is underrated.

Do you have a favorite Spongebob episode?

Man... that’s like choosing a favorite child. But I’ll go ahead and do it. I have several favorites. One is “SB-129”. I’m a bit of a sucker for time travel - it’s part of why I enjoy Bravest Warriors so much. “The Fun Show” is awesome too, it’s a classic. Of episodes I wrote, “Not Normal” was my first and still a favorite. It’s a bit autobiographical: I was a weird kid and always felt like I needed to conform to some idea of normality. After a while, I decided that didn’t matter and I was going to accept being my weird self. And the same is true of Spongebob.

(Mr. Lawrence (aka Plankton), Vincent Waller, and Derek.)

How did you come to write for Bravest Warriors?

After Spongebob, I was a staff writer on Sanjay and Craig, which Will McRobb and Chris Viscardi executive produced. They’re great guys and a blast to work with. They'd also produced Bravest, so I found out about the show through them. I watched it and just thought it was madness in the best possible way. Last year Will mentioned they were looking for writers, so I gave it a shot. I really wanted to be part of the show and feel lucky that I got to be!

What are your favorite things about Bravest Warriors?

I love time travel and sci-fi, and you get both of those in BW. That’s a treat. But I love that it also goes right to the heart of teen angst. That’s a sandbox I don’t get to play in a lot, as I’m usually writing for kids or preschoolers. It’s a lot of fun to deal with broken hearts, romantic attraction, all that gooey hormonal stuff.

Do you have a favorite character from the show?

I like Danny a lot, because he’s kinda pathetic. I just want to help him out. But I can’t resist Catbug. He’s amazing. And I’m a big fan of Impossibear. Something about his gruffness... he’s selfish in a way that reminds me of Bender from Futurama. If I ever got to do another BW episode, I’d want it to be about Impossibear. Finding the mushy heart he hides inside.

What is your episode, “A Apple, B Banana, C Chili” about?

I did a sort of anti-consumerist screed cleverly disguised as a Bravest Warriors episode. The team succumbs to the power of marketing. They have to escape the clutches of a Costco-like superstore. It seemed like a uniquely weird challenge they hadn’t faced before. I think that’s why it was chosen from the ideas I pitched—when you’re pitching on a show with a lot of episodes, you’ve got to find the part of the floor that hasn’t been painted yet.

Aha - don’t they go in that store to grab Wallow a snack?

Haha yeah. Wallow gets hangry on a mission so they go to buy him some chips or a granola bar or something and it goes terribly wrong. I love episodes like that - we did it on Spongebob too - where it’s the simplest possible objective. The goal of the episode is one tiny thing, and then it balloons out from there and becomes ridiculously huge in a way it never deserved to be.

What would you be if you weren’t a TV writer?

Maybe a lawyer. Or a crazy activist trying to make the world a better place and not getting very far. I’d probably be quitting my job at the EPA right now out of sheer frustration. At least writing cartoons, I can express the absurdity of our world—but hopefully to make people laugh, instead of cry.

What are your favorite cartoons?

Well, Spongebob’s pretty darn good. I always loved Ren and Stimpy, the latest news notwithstanding. I’m a simple man: I love Road Runner. I couldn’t resist the simplicity of the gags. You always know what’s going to happen - Road Runner’s gonna get away and Wile E. Coyote is gonna eat it. But you don’t know how he’s gonna eat it. The magic is in the details. I’m a big fan of The Simpsons. And I enjoyed Aqua Teen Hunger Force; Master Shake cracks me up. I love how stupid and petty he is.

After writing for so long, is it ever still challenging?

Absolutely, it’s always a challenge. I think a lot of people struggle with being too precious with their ideas. It’s a collaborative medium: stories change and change and change again. You can accept compromises and look for the good in them, or you can fight against them. My view is, you have to choose your battles. Even the creator doesn’t have complete control. And the best creators and showrunners delegate responsibilities. They trust the people they’ve hired.  

Do you pitch show ideas around?

I haven’t as much lately; I’m busy story editing a preschool show now called Hanni and the Wild Woods. But I made a Nickelodeon short a few years back with my friend Miles Hindman, called “Carrot and Stick,” about a pair of buddies who live in a junkyard. Their nemesis is a dog named Rosie, based on my own dog Rosie. It’s a mixed media show - a combination of puppets, live action and 2D - so we wanted her to play herself. It didn’t work out. She’s cute and all, but cute doesn’t make you a good actor…

(Rosie, sweet and perfect in every conceivable way aside from acting ability.)

What else are you working on?

Well besides Hanni, I just got back from teaching an Animation Writing class in Jamaica for a few weeks - that was amazing. It was through The World Bank; they’re trying to build an animation industry over there. I’m glad they found me, it was a ton of fun and some of the student’s ideas were really cool. I also have a YA sci-fi book I really want to write. The trick is finding the time to do it; it keeps eluding me. Earlier I said animation is very collaborative - not so with this book. I have a very specific vision, and I’m excited to tell exactly the story I want to tell. I also write as Spongebob and Patrick on their Twitter accounts - which is a tougher gig than it sounds! All of the 140 character zingers have to be contained to their universe. But it’s fun and keeps me connected to the characters, and I love that.

Thank you for the interview Derek! So much fun talking with you. Good luck on all your many projects, I’ll be on the lookout!

- Cooper

[squishysvt]

A Petty Cold

Member: Hoshi (Seventeen) Word Count: 1,468 Genre: Fluff A/N No one asked but here’s a fluffy fic as a present~ -Admin Ay

 It was a rainy Sunday evening and you weren’t really planning to do anything. So rather than doing something productive, you decided to get comfortable and watch whatever re-runs of The Maury Show was on. Even though drama was not really something you favored in your own life, you had to admit, the outrageous behavior of the people on the show was rather entertaining. You were just about to find out who the father of the little 4-year-old kid was until your phone buzzed.

 You sighed as you answered the call. “Ugh, what do you want, Chan? I’m in the middle of--”

 “(Y/N), HELP! Soonyoung is dying!” The obvious alarm in Chan’s voice caused you to shoot up from your couch.

 “What do you mean ‘dying’?!”

 “Just hurry up and get to our apartment, I’ll explain later.”

 Before you could utter another word, your phone beeped, indicating that you had been hung up on. Scared, you threw on a jacket and grabbed your car keys from the nearby coffee table and rushed out of your apartment door. The outfit of the night was a tank top with some very raggedy pajama pants decorated with little spongebobs, completed with a very fluffy pair of slippers. Had it been a better occasion, you probably would have gone with something more...presentable.

 You had probably broken many laws while speeding your way to Chan and Soonyoung’s shared apartment, but as far as you knew, your friend was dying. So the multiple times you had almost ran into a lightpole seemed rather justifiable.

 Once you had gotten to your destination you stomped up the stairs and unlocked the door of the boys’ apartment with the hidden spare key that Soonyoung had told you about. You looked around the slightly messy apartment and called out for Chan.

 “In his room, (y/n),” he answered.

 As you made your way to the room you started to hear the sound of coughing and sniffling, gradually getting louder as you moved closer. When you opened the door you were met with the image of Soonyoung wrapped in a blanket making miserable groaning noises between every sniffle. The supposedly “dying” man didn’t seem to be in such critical condition to you, and Chan wasn’t as frantic as a normal person would be if their friend was dying in front of them. Then it dawned on you.

 “Lee Chan, I swear if you called me here to take care of this big baby’s petty little cold I will personally end you.”

 You could notice the nervousness in the said boy’s smile in response to the threat.

 “Haha, sorry but I wanted to hang with a few friends. I couldn’t just leave him alone because I’m somewhat of a good friend. So I called you here! Anyway, I gotta go, bye!” And with that Chan had rushed out the door. Your attempt to grab him and follow through with your threat failed, his arm barely out of your reach.

 The stunt Chan had pulled with you made you want to be stubborn and walk out to leave Soonyoung to fend for himself. Instead, you started picking up the empty tissue boxes and snot rags on the floor. Darn your kind heart.

 You poked Soonyoung on the cheek to bring him back from whatever sick trance he was in.

 “Hey bud, it’s me. I’m gonna get you something to drink and then I’ll head out and get something to eat for you, okay?” You would have made some type of soup or porridge, but you remembered you couldn’t cook and Soonyoung and Chan probably didn’t have their kitchen stocked up anyway.

 Rather than speaking, he only nodded. You had to admit, sick Soonyoung looked really cute. His hair was messy, his eyes fluttered half closed, and his cheeks just seemed genuinely more puffy. You smiled and went into the kitchen to see what the boys had to drink.

 When you opened the fridge you were greeted with a case of soda and a half-empty jug of orange juice. When you opened the cabinet you were welcomed with a box of granola bars and a surprising amount of assorted tea bags. You sighed.

 “Bless Soonyoung’s obsession with herbal tea.”

 You quickly prepared a cup of hot ginger tea and left it next to Soonyoung before heading out to a nearby store.

 When you returned to the apartment you were welcomed by a pile of blankets in the middle of the living room floor.

 “What the hell?”

 “I was trying to get something to eat but I lost energy.” The words came out of the sick man’s mouth slurred.

 “You are so-- didn’t I say I was getting you something? Ugh, sometimes I hate you.”

 Instead of immediately helping Soonyoung up, you decided to set the two cans of chicken noodle soup you bought (yes, two cans, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast) down in the kitchen. When you went back to pick up his half-dead figure, you settled with flopping him down onto the nearby couch rather than dragging him to his own bed.

 “Don’t you dare get up again or I’ll make you feel worse than you already do.”

 “Mm...okay.”

 Even though sick Soonyoung was cute, he was definitely more of a pain in the ass than healthy Soonyoung...if that was even possible. While on your way back to the kitchen to fix the soup you mumbled ways to get back at Chan when he got back home. It didn’t take much effort to make. All that you had to do was dump the cans of soup in a pot and warm it up for a few minutes. You set an alarm for the amount of time that the directions on the can recommended. As you waited you took to scrolling through social media aimlessly on your phone and responding to a few texts.

 The sudden pressure one your shoulder cause you to jump.

 You growled, “Soonyoung, didn’t I tell you not to get up from the couch?”

 “But you’re warm…” His words sent a vibration through your body as he snuggled up to you more, arms wrapping around your torso. You would have scolded him more, but you sort of enjoyed how cuddely he was being. With the comfort of his body wrapped around you combined with his cute face squished into your shoulder, it was hard not to. The moment was cut short, however, when your alarm went of.

 You reached to turn off the stove that the soup was cooking on.

 “Bro, you’re gonna have to move now I need to fix the food. Go back to the couch.”

 Soonyoung only groaned in response. Not wanting to really deal with moving him, you decided to let Soonyoung cling to you as you moved around the kitchen to get the bowls and fix the soup. The both of you then shuffled back to the couch to sit down as you handed Soonyoung his chicken noodle soup.

 “...Can you feed me, (Y/N)?”

 “Kwon Soonyoung, you are a grown man and you only have a cold. If you can walk from the couch to the kitchen you can use a spoon too.”

 He pouted as you both ate your soup. It took you longer than usual to finish because Soonyoung would could keep saying soup related puns that were so dumb you couldn’t help but laugh at. You almost choked a few times as a result. When you finished your food, rather than going to wash and put up dishes, you just left you and Soonyoung’s bowls on the coffee table near the couch. Letting Chan clean up the mess himself when he got back home was going to be your own form of revenge.

 It wasn’t hard to notice that Soonyoung was getting sleepy after eating. His eyes were half open and he was starting to lean into you.

 “Hey, let me take you to your bed so you can be more comfortable.” You tried to get up so that you could help Soonyoung up, but a hand pulled you back down.

 “Just cuddle with me on the couch, (Y/N).”

 You shook your head. “The bed is more comfortable.”

 “I don’t feel like getting up.”

 “Ugh, fine.”

 Soonyoung smiled and laid down, arms wide open ready to embrace you. You sighed as you eased next to him. As far as you were concerned it was fine as long as he didn’t make you sick.

 The fake concern over getting Soonyoung’s germs was forgotten in a matter of time. Soonyoung held you as if you were a stuffed bear while he gave into his food coma. His deep breaths and warm body temperature calmed you. You and Soonyoung’s breath patterns fell in sync, gradually lulling you to sleep.

[waitineedaname]

Seeing Color

Skam month: week three, day three / AU

(AO3)

When Jonas first met his soulmate, it was in the middle of a fight.

He wasn’t entirely sure why the fight started. He just knew that when he walked out of Syng, Isak was shoving some guy with floppy hair, and then another guy punched Isak so hard he fell over.

Everything after that felt like a blur of action. Mahdi launched himself into it first. Typically non-violent Mahdi, loyal to a fault, had jumped right in the middle of it and he was in the face of the guy who hit Isak before Even could even get Isak to his feet. All the other guys who had been crowded around surrounded them, and Jonas couldn’t tell if they were trying to pull the fight apart or join it. Jonas knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but his best friend was sporting a bloody nose and he was angry and buzzed and - this revelation hit him as he pulled one of the taller guys out of the throng and laid a hit on his jaw - these were the guys who’d walked in and made Even so scared, so fuck it, Jonas could deal with a few rash decisions.

The floppy-haired guy appeared in his peripheral vision, trying to get in between him and the guy he was grappling with, and then he was in front of Jonas and yelling at him to stop! and what the fuck is your problem?! and Jonas grabbed his wrists and looked up and-

And everything slowed for a second. The guy’s frightened, worried eyes met his own angry ones, and the whole world shifted. It was subtle, and the colors were slightly dulled, but the world wasn’t black and white anymore. As the guy’s expression shifted to that of shock, he knew he was seeing it too.

Jonas gritted his teeth. No. Soulmates didn’t matter right now. Sticking up for his best friend did. So he kept shoving, and the guy kept trying to push him back until Mahdi was getting between them and everyone was leaving and he was able to catch his breath.

He looked over at them leaving one more time as he went over to Isak and saw him looking back. They shared half a second of eye contact and he saw confusion and worry on his face before Jonas looked away. Of fucking course it had to happen like this.

-----

They’d rushed Isak off to the hospital, the four of them an anxious, protective shield around him as they rode the tram and escorted him to the waiting room. Even had done most of the talking, but now he was quiet, staring down at the floor and bouncing his knee as they waited to hear from the nurse who’d taken Isak to get looked at.

Jonas knew he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He’d seen the look on his face when those guys had walked into the bar, and he’d seen the worry in his eyes every time he looked at Isak’s purpling face. Jonas really shouldn’t pry. But it was going to eat at him if he didn’t.

“Who was that guy?” He asked, breaking the silence. Even looked up at him, eyes dull and tired. “The one Isak shoved, I mean.”

Even let out a long sigh and looked down again, knee bouncing harder. “Mikael. He’s… an old friend.”

Jonas wanted to ask more, but the nurse came in before he could, and they all jumped to their feet when she told them they could come see Isak. Jonas didn’t ask Even anything else that evening.

-----

Jonas went home that night and dug through the internet for any trace of Mikael. He found a private facebook, which he refrained from sending a friend request to, and a youtube channel, populated with videos of him and the other four guys that had been at Syng.

Before he knew it, it was two in the morning and he’d watched all the videos at least three times each. His eyes were drawn to Mikael the whole time, and the way he smiled and joked easily with his friends. They all seemed like genuine and good people, and his mind was swimming with questions.

What had happened between them and Even that made him look so scared? What did Mikael do to make Isak shove him?

Why did he have to be soulmates with someone with so many complications?

-----

The second time Jonas met his soulmate, it was at Eva’s party. He’d bitten his tongue for weeks, restraining the itch to interrogate Even and Isak and Sana about the boys after it all went to hell, about Mikael in particular. But he saw the ansty look that came over Even’s eyes when he thought no one was paying attention, he saw the big purple bruise on Isak’s face, he saw how closed off Sana seemed, and he decided it was best to just leave it.

When Jonas arrived at Chris’s house with Isak and Even and saw the guys off a computer screen for the first time since Syng, he expected it to be tense. He expected another fight. What he didn’t expect was Even to be greeted with smiles and hugs, a bright smile on his own face as joined into their little pack like nothing happened.

Jonas pulled Isak aside before he could join the crowds of people and glanced over at the group Even had melded into so comfortably. “What the hell’s going on?” He asked in hushed tones.

Isak followed his gaze and shrugged. “They talked this week. Elias-” He pointed to him, but Jonas had rewatched their videos enough times to recognize all of them. “-he messaged Even and they met up to finally, you know, talk it all out. They’re good guys,” He added after a moment, awkwardly scratching just below where his black eye used to be. “I-... I fucked up big time.”

Jonas glanced up at his friend. That was not an easy thing for Isak to admit, he knew that. He clapped him on his shoulder and gave him the most sincere look he could. “You were just trying to protect Even. He was scared and you acted without thinking. Not the first time you’ve done that.” He teased gently, smiling when Isak laughed softly and shrugged. “Yeah, good point. But Even’s really happy now. It’s good for him to be around them again,” Isak had that smile on his face that he always got when he looked at Even, and Jonas found himself grateful for the thousandth time that his friend had found a soulmate that made him so damn happy. Isak turned to face him again and nudged his shoulder. “I’m gonna go find some booze and the birthday girl. Catch you later.”

Jonas nodded and let him wander off in Eva’s direction before turning his gaze back over to the pack of Bakka boys. His heart thudded a little harder when he found Mikael looking back at him, lingering to the side of the conversation. He tilted his head in a way he probably thought was subtle and stepped away from his friends to a more secluded area in the yard. Jonas hesitated a moment, then went after him.

“Hey.” Mikael smiled at him - not the big, toothy grin he had around his friends, but a small, somewhat cautious smile. Like he was waiting for Jonas’s reaction.

“Hey.” Jonas smiled back, but he knew he looked tense. He shifted a bit and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm, uh. I'm sorry about pushing you. Back at Syng, I mean.”

“That's okay,” His smile widened a bit, starting to look more relaxed. “You were just trying to protect your friend. I get it.”

“Yeah.” Jonas nodded softly and fell silent, looking over where Isak had joined Even in a game of croquet against Elias. He glanced over at Mikael and found him looking in the same direction, his eyes soft and kind.

“Isak and Even… They're really soulmates, huh?” He finally asked after watching them for a while. Jonas nodded and Mikael smiled a bit. “Good. He seems to really make Even happy.”

“Yeah. They're good for each other.” Colors were coming into more focus, Jonas realized. More saturated the longer he stood with Mikael. “...Have you told anyone?” He asked before he could stop himself.

Mikael looked over at him and laughed. “About us? No. Oh god, no, that's way too hard to explain. ‘Hey Adam, you remember that guy with the cool eyebrows that bruised your jaw? Yeah, we’re soulmates, oops.’ No.”

Jonas breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, me neither.” He glanced over and grinned at him. “You think I've got cool eyebrows?”

Mikael looked surprised and turned to face him fully again. “Are you serious? Your eyebrows could kill a man. They’re better than any I've ever seen.”

Jonas laughed and bonked their shoulders together. “Thanks. I'm proud of my man-killing eyebrows.”

“You should be! They're fucking amazing.” They stood there, grinning at each other until Elias’s loud voice broke their moment.

“Mikael! Come here and help me teach these idiots how to play croquet!” His words were followed by a laugh from Even and Isak’s mock-offended ‘excuse you? I'm the master of croquet, I'm just holding back so you won't embarrass yourself.’ Mikael laughed and nodded over at him before turning back to Jonas.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” He waited until Jonas nodded before squeezing his shoulder and jogging over to join them.

That night, Jonas found a friend request on Facebook from one Mikael Øverlie Boukhal. He smiled softly and hit ‘accept.’

-----

They messaged pretty much nonstop, after that. Mikael had a soft spot for really surreal memes, he quickly found. His photos were almost 90% distorted images of Spongebob because of him. He also had a passionate love for film - like Even, except even more and more focused on the cinematography and editing, while the conversations he’d had with Even usually were about the directing side. He also really, really loved the Hei Briskeby channel. Every time a new video was put up, he sent it to Jonas for approval. Jonas loved every single one.

“Who are you texting?” Magnus asked, peering over his shoulder nosily. Jonas shoved himself further into the McDonald’s booth and locked his phone before Magnus could read his texts.

“No one.” He answered quickly. He wasn't sure why he was keeping it secret; the guys wouldn't mind at all if he told them. In fact, they'd probably drive him nuts with their congratulations. But… He just hadn't found the right time yet. He knew Mikael probably felt the same way, because he hadn't heard anything from his friends either.

“It’s probably that girl he’s been texting all week.” Mahdi suggested, tossing a fry at him. “The one that keeps making him smile.”

“Whatever. You’re just jealous because you haven’t gotten someone’s number in months.” Jonas grinned victoriously at the offended noise and cackles that got him. He looked over, pleased with his evasion, and found Isak staring at him all too knowingly. “...What?”

“Nothing.” Isak continued to look at him with a suspicious expression. Jonas knew he wanted to ask him more, but he respected his privacy too much to do it in front of everyone else. An anxious rock formed in the base of his gut as he realized this was not the last he was hearing of this.

-----

And it wasn't. It came back to bite him a week later, when he and Isak were getting stoned at Isak’s apartment. They were sitting on the balcony and he was wondering how the fuck both Isak and Even managed to sit out here when they both had the longest legs he'd ever seen when Isak’s voice broke his reverie.

“So,” Isak tilted his head back and looked at him with all-too-knowing eyes. “You wanna tell me what's going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jonas asked, playing dumb. Isak only snorted.

“Come on. We’ve known each since- what, were we like six?”

Jonas couldn’t help but smile a bit. “You were six. I was still five. And you cried every time the teacher would move our seats away from each other.”

Isak kicked him halfheartedly. “Shut up. But whatever, we’ve known each other for ages. I know when something’s going on with you.”

Jonas sighed and looked down, silent for a while. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Isak a little bit, would it? Not everything, but… something. “I… met my soulmate.”

Isak broke into a coughing fit, choking on the smoke he’d just inhaled too quickly. “What?” He finally managed to croak out. “Are you serious?” Jonas nodded and Isak’s face lit up in a proud grin. “Holy shit! Congrats, man, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Jonas smiled a bit. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Who is it? Or-” He added. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s chill.”

“Yeah, I think I’d rather run it by him before I tell anyone. Sorry,” Isak waved him off, and Jonas was grateful. He knew Isak had kept the fact that he’d met his soulmate secret for months before finally telling him, and he was a good enough friend to let Jonas do the same. Isak looked like he was going to drop it for a moment, then Jonas’s words seemed to actually hit him.

“Wait. Him?!”

“...Fuck.”

Isak gave him the biggest shit-eating grin. “Your soulmate is a guy, holy shit.” He laid his head back against the wall and laughed. “I knew I wasn’t the only one that wasn’t straight. Oh thank god.”

Now it was Jonas’s turn to kick him gently and tell him to shut up. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Isak’s grin became a little bit more sincere. “Hey, no, I’m serious. I’m really happy for you. Is he nice? Good looking guy?” He said the last part in what Jonas could only guess was an attempt to sound like him when Isak finally told him about Even.

“Yeah,” Jonas grinned a bit. “Better than you, at least.”

“What?! Wait, you mean he’s nicer or he’s better looking?”

“Both.”

“Fuck off!” Isak kicked him again, harder this time, and Jonas could only laugh. “Why am I only friends with assholes, what the fuck.”

Jonas’s laugh slowly subsided and he found Isak smiling at him.

“You’ll tell me who it is eventually, right?”

“Yeah. Just give me time.”

-----

“Mikael, if you wanted fries, you should have just ordered fries.”

“Yeah, but they taste better when they’re on someone else’s plate.” Mikael said with a grin, stealing another one of Jonas’s fries. They were at the burger place that was quickly becoming their place ever since they realized they had the same taste in food. It was halal, so Mikael didn’t have to worry, and it was both close enough to their houses that it was an easy date spot and out of the way enough that they didn’t have to worry about their friends showing up out of nowhere and asking difficult questions.

Mikael sat back in his seat, apparently satisfied with the amount of fries he’d stolen, and picked at what was left of his burger. “Jonas?” He said after a while, clearing his throat. “Yeah?” Jonas eyed him worriedly. Mikael normally looked so relaxed, but he was suddenly looking tense and nervous. He looked up at Jonas and licked his lips.

“We’re soulmates, right? You started seeing color at the same time I did?”

“Yes…?”

“So-” He took a breath, as if he were bracing himself for something. “As my soulmate, you need to know something. About me.” Jonas was really starting to get apprehensive, but he kept his mouth shut and let Mikael take his time to say what he needed to. “I’m… asexual. Or demisexual, I’m not sure yet, but- I know a lot of people expect to have sex with their soulmates, but I don’t know if that- if that’s really for me, you know? I just- I thought you needed to know.”

Jonas stared at him for a long minute, then smiled a bit. “Is that it? Mik, you didn’t need to worry about that. It’s completely chill. Don’t worry.”

Mikael looked like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Seriously? You’re not, like, disappointed?”

“I told you, it’s chill.” Jonas started to reach across to hold his hand, then paused. “Wait, do you have any specific boundaries? Like, how far can physical affection go?”

Mikael smiled and bridged the last inch to hold Jonas’s hand. “Stuff like this is fine, and kissing and cuddling and stuff. Just nothing that involves genitals.” His nose crinkled a bit at the last part, and Jonas’s heart swelled a bit.

“So… can I kiss you right now?” He asked, and Mikael grinned wider, nodding and leaning across the table to kiss him. It was soft and chaste and Jonas felt like it was the best thing in the world.

-----

It was July, and they’d finally decided it was time to tell everyone.

Yousef still wasn’t back from Turkey, so to fill the void, Elias had made the executive decision to bring in Even’s new friends - or, more specifically, Isak and his friends - for a video. To spice things up, he said. Which was why Jonas was sitting on the floor in front of the far too crowded couch with Mikael sitting behind him.

Jonas was pretty sure it seemed casual enough. He’d seen all their videos before this and he’d hung around them enough at this point to know there was no shortage of affection between these guys. So Mikael gently combing his fingers through Jonas’s hair didn’t really distract them from whatever challenge they were making Mutta and Magnus go head to head in (he thought it might be the chubby bunny challenge, but if he was being honest, he stopped paying attention once Mikael has started playing with his hair.)

When Mikael bent over and kissed him flat on the lips, however, the room fell silent. Jonas knew every single one of their friend’s eyes were on them, but he ignored them and kissed back until-

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mikael laughed and pulled away to face an exasperated Elias. “In the middle of the video?”

“We thought it was time to tell you guys.” Jonas shrugged, leaning back against Mikael.

“Wait!” Isak sat up from where he’d been slouching on Even’s lap and looked at Jonas. “Is he the guy you were talking about? Your soulmate?”

The room erupted with squawks of surprise and Mikael laughed, propping his chin on top of Jonas’s head. “Aw, you talked about me with Isak?”

“Yes!” Isak interjected before Jonas could respond, looking exaggeratedly offended. “And he said you were nicer and better looking than me!” Their friends let out a collective “OHH” and Mikael laughed even harder.

“Okay, new competition!” Adam said, shoving Mikael’s shoulder gently. “Who’s the more disgustingly cute couple? You two versus them two.” He gestured to them, then Isak and Even.

“We’d win!” Even pronounced, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s head. “Besides, Mikael wouldn’t compete against his best buddy, right?”

Mikael fixed him with a deathly serious face. “There are no friends in war.” The room broke into raucous laughter again and Mikael dropped the act to grin playfully. Their friends successfully distracted by bickering over which couple was more disgustingly cute, he looked down at Jonas. His smile softened slightly and he pressed a kiss to Jonas’s forehead. “That went well.”

“Yeah. I’m glad we told them.”

“I’m glad it was you I could tell them about.” Mikael grinned and kissed him lightly. Mahdi groaned from the other side of the couch.

“Okay, they win. Did anyone else see that shit? That was horrible.” Everyone groaned with him and Jonas knew they were going to be teased about this for weeks, but he didn’t care.

Because he was glad it was Mikael too.

[gethealthy18-blog]

Trying to Get Into Fitness & Health

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/trying-to-get-into-fitness-health/

Trying to Get Into Fitness & Health

A month is already passed of 2018 and you know what that means!(what?) People have already started giving up on their new year's resolutions(oh) Google claims that only 8% of people actually keep their resolutions

Which is like, the ultimate "I'm not mad just disappointed" Well I'm happy to tell YOU that I haven't dropped any of my resolutions I don't write any My family never really did resolutions Once, my dad was like "let's all write resolutions this year!" and we still didn't and then I didn't accomplish anything

For me when I want to change something I start trying to integrate it into my life right away, rather than waiting until next week, or next year, or next LIFETIME for that fresh start EVERY day is a Jaiden new year! *party horn, kazoo, as well as that annoying spinny thing* Whew! As someone who doesn't write them, and probably isn't qualified to critique the art of new year's resolutions I'm gonna toss my opinion that no one asked for into the ring! I think the main contributors to those 92% failing goals are they're too unrealistic and they're too vauge Let's stop beating around the bush and talk about the most common resolution people make Losing weight, eating healthier you know- that rabbit-hole "Lose 20 pounds by drinking this tea from a weird plant you've never heard of!" "Lose 10 pounds in 30 minutes or your pizzas free!" "Lose

your money" It's all basically just: Spongebob: -ALL RIGHT! GIVE ME THE MONEY! All those quick-fix weight-loss scams that make too good to be true claims are, just people who want your money Sure, the scale says "Hey! great job you lost seven pounds in a week!" but your body says "Yeah, but that was all just water weight, and also I don't feel very good" or AAyuasytdyafwtsfetwsfewdwtdrecwrthdrfewchtewscwszxechzewRTHJQqcfawsh3fawsqcehtgwdcerhnscfqHNSYTZRSEHNT2QD2DCTX NJYCV6FREUWQVF6ET,KDUHCQ If you want change you've got to earn it through work

There isn't an easy way out making changes in your lifestyle need to be sustainable for, life That's why they're called "Lifestyle Changes" Not "I'm gonna pay $200 for this diet shake, feel good for two weeks, lose 10 pounds! start feeling bad and give up in a month" Changes "I'm gonna start working out more" "I'm gonna start going to the gym," let's be honest with ourselves here, that's a weak excuse for a resolution "I will go on a run every other morning," "I'll lift weights 3 to 5 days a week" those are much easier to follow than, "I'll exercise more" *pSHH* get out of here with that vague crap You don't even know what you mean by that

And don't be flaky and say "oh, I missed a week, oh I'm hopeless" *sad moan of grief* NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM You're not gonna be perfect for a whole year Take a breath, chill and keep going I'm saying that to myself just as much as I am to you I've been trying to be more self-aware about when my brain just wants to turn one little mess-up into an excuse to stop something entirely I'm getting better at slowly ending that habit

I grew up doing a lot of sports Soccer, Martial Arts, Tennis, Competitive Pokémon I know my way around the gym But I dropped it all my last year of high school to focus on Youtube and art I didn't care about what I ate and combined with not moving around much I started feeling pretty crummy

So I ended up turning to what most people do when they reach a similar problem *sighs* All right, here we go *upbeat hip-hop gym music plays* Let's talk about home exercise videos Why are so many of them so fake? The weird hip-hop music and the smiles that are a bit too wide it might just be the plastic surgery, but it all makes me feel uncomfortable I get that instructors want to make exercise seem fun and all that but, ehhhhhh it feels super condescending to me How the FRIG do they do entire workouts smiling and talking and making cheesy eating pizza jokes? "All right now hold that squat -ooooh feel that burn in those quads!" "I'm smiling and articulating everything perfectly and I totally know you're panting like a dying animal over there! Don't think about that leftover pizza in the fridge!" *giggles* -"Looking at YOU Brittany!" If you're looking for good home exercise programs, I'm gonna recommend this blog I've been following for a super long time called 'Fitness Blender' Woah is that the sellout alarm?!?!? is Jaiden finally selling out?? No, turn that thing off I've never talked to Fitness Blender, they're not paying me to say this, They don't even know I exist

*groans of sadness* It's run by this nice couple (Daniel and Kelly) they're super down-to-earth and have a really healthy view on fitness and wellness You can tell they know their stuff All their exercise videos and tips are completely free, and if you want to use one of their written programs or meal plans, they're like 15 bucks *GYM HIP-HOP INTENSIFIES* and they don't have that dumb music IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE VIDEO! If you're just starting out exercise it's gonna hurt and/or suck for a bit If it doesn't you aren't gonna see changes Well okay, don't murder yourself

Be smart about it But your body is gonna complain for a while and that's good There's plenty of activities you can do! playing a sport with friends, walking your dog, a casual battle to the death -squats And respect your starting point When I first started trying to get back into working out, I was just, *gasps of exhaustion* okay, alright, got through it

TV: -"Alright, we're done with our warm up grab a quick drink of water, and we'll get right into the workout!" But just stick through the beginning, because that's literally the hardest part Raise your hand if you're sore! AHA trick question! you can't raise your arms They're jello Don't forget that exercise is only a quarter of the health journey What you eat is the biggest variable to all this life changing athlete hippy mumbo-jumbo

Eating right is like straight-up magic You feel amazing It's the closest thing to drugs that isn't drugs There's a difference between being thin, versus fit versus healthy kind of like Venn diagram style Someone could be thin, but that doesn't mean they're at all healthy

Someone could be super swollen, buff, but eat junk 24/7 and someone could be eating super healthy but not have the body of a supermodel There's a healthy range of everything I used to have a really bad relationship with eating I've talked about it before

In college I developed an eating disorder and a fear of eating food and I would go like, an entire day eating almost nothing "No Jadien!" *Slap* "you think that eating 600 calories a day is just gonna float you to all your hopes and dreams?" *M-hmm* "Nope it's just gonna give you headaches and emotional breakdowns you can trust me- I'm from the future~~~" "ALSO learn what bitcoin is and invest everything you can into it while you still can" I wish there was more information being taught on the dangers of eating disorders, Because if I knew about that whole mess 3 years ago, I would have been like "whoa!" okay? Nevermind Let's do a 180 here This ship is wack

I'm getting out of here before it controls everything in my life" You can't abuse your body and expect anything good to come from it Body: "Man I feel great! I could totally run a marathon and write an essay right now I'm so energized and my brain is so clear!" "Thanks for feeding me LITERALLY ONE GRAPE" You don't go to the gas station, pour a cup of gas into your car, and then try to drive to China

Eating less than your body needs to physically survive accomplishes nothing It might seem like it's working in the moment but honey, you've got a big storm coming Please try to end it as soon as you can I'm not at all trying to shame anyone going through rough times with their self-image I know it's a really hard thing to fight against

I was pretty far gone when I was struggling And even though I'm in a much better place now, I do still have bad days What helps me is trying to separate logical thoughts from the bad ones that fueled the irrational fears They're not here to see you succeed They're just the dumb brain versions of those tv and email scams where they're like "Hey! Give me your credit card info, social security number, and mother's maiden name and I'll give you a million dollars!" "I won't literally destroy your life, I'm just your friendly neighborhood Nigerian prince!" It's all more simple than you think

Eat healthy when you can, fresh fruit, vegetables, whole foods, and it's okay to treat yourself every once in a while Don't say: "I'm never eating sugar for the rest of my life!" You're setting yourself up for failure there And end up pulling a James Exercise as much as little as you're ready for, and be mindful and respectful about how your body feels Little changes go a long way

Remember you're doing this for you And don't play that dumb hip-hop music while you work out (music intensifies) or I SWEAR TO HERCULES I'm gonna RUN someone over with an exercise bike! Hey! It's been a while! Sorry Anyway I don't know if you've seen yet, but the finebros made a reaction video on me I've already seen it and had a reaction, but I don't think i'll be making a I react To people react to me thing I know a lot of people wanted me to do that

I enjoyed the video They said some nice things I hope you see it, and thanks to the finebros for thinking I'm someone worth reacting to *pshhh* This video took a bit longer to get done, this year's actually gonna be pretty busy, and we got some special things in the works for you in the future I'm really trying to up the quality of videos, and not die in the process I used to be super strict on uploading every two weeks, but it's really not sustainable for my mental health, or my health in general

So the videos will just be done when they're done but I care more about the quality of videos than a certain schedule, so yeah Also I hope you liked the video stick to your resolutions, keep working towards the person you want to become, and take care of yourself I'm working on all of that stuff too

okay bye!

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Vegas Golden Knights jersey numbers. First of all, they gave No. 97 to David Clarkson. Yes, Connor McDavid’s number. To David Clarkson. Who is, I think it’s fair to say, not all that Connor McDavid-ish.

So that was weird. But then they made up for it with some solid trolling:

This will get even funnier when Sidney Crosby scores 12 points in his first game in Las Vegas and Gronk-spikes the puck after every one.

The second star: This photo. Speaking of Rob Gronkowski, he is now best friends with Tuukka Rask, and this may be my new favorite sports photo of all time.

The first star: The Senators logo without eyebrows. Why yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. And no, you won’t be able to un-see it.

(Original image created by Twitter’s @Gerv_Rebrand, who should be in jail.)

Be It Resolved

It’s September, and Jaromir Jagr still doesn’t have a home for the 2017-18 season. This is unacceptable.

Yes, he’s 45. Sure, he’s lost more than a few steps, to the point where he’d have a hard time beating the Zamboni around the ice these days. And yes, last year’s 46 points made for the least productive full season of his career. In a league that’s all about speed and youth, plodding old guys aren’t exactly in high demand.

Counterpoint: He’s Jaromir Freaking Jagr. Let’s get this done.

At this point, it seems possible that nobody will sign him, or that he may be reduced to signing a PTO (professional tryout) like some scrub. Hockey fans around the world are slowly coming to terms with the fact that there just aren’t many good outcomes left for this story. Maybe Jagr gives up and retires, or he heads back to Europe. Maybe he sits around for half a season waiting for an injury. Or maybe he latches on somewhere as an unwanted fourth-liner, and the whole thing takes on a sad Jerry-Rice-as-a-Seahawk vibe.

There is a better way.

So be it resolved: The NHL must immediately institute the Jaromir Jagr Rule. If you’re over 40 and you’ve won multiple scoring titles and you still want to compete and nobody’s signing you, you get to play for everyone.

Yes, everyone. Here’s how it works: We give Jagr two more weeks to sign a real NHL contract—no PTOs or two-way deals or any of that nonsense. Somebody commits to the guy, or else we take matters into our own hands.

[Spongebob Squarepants Meme Joke.] Photo by Robert Mayer-USA TODAY Sports

If Jaromir Jagr still doesn’t have a deal by September 15, he plays for everyone. Every team in the league gets to use Jagr for one home game and one away game. That adds up to 62 games, which sounds about right for a 45-year-old who’ll need some rest here and there.

But who gets him for which games? That’s the fun part. Gather round your TV, kids, because Saturday, September 15, is the Jaromir Jagr draft. That’s right—every team in the league, in reverse order of last year’s standings, gets to pick the games it has Jagr in the lineup.

The Golden Knights probably use the first overall pick on their home opener. The Avs could, too—it’s the next night, and it’s not too far a flight. The better teams might want to save him for crucial games later in the season, especially against the elite teams. OK, let’s face it, especially against the Penguins.

Be honest: If the NHL held that draft, you would watch that so hard your eyeballs would explode. And then imagine the season playing out. Jagr’s one home game as a Penguin. His return to New York. The Capitals using him for the outdoor game so that he can also be the oldest guy on the alumni team. The home-and-home between the Bruins and the Habs where he plays for both teams. Best of all, the NHL website with a little “Where’s Jagr?” graphic, in which he’s wearing glasses and a red-and-white striped shirt.

Look, I may have thought about this too much, but don’t act like you’re not on board. Make this happen, NHL. Your millions of fans, and one very old man with a mullet, are demanding it.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

It’s college free agent season, with players like Will Butcher sparking the annual debate over whether NCAA players should have different rights than their CHL counterparts. This has been a long-running issue for the NHL, dating back to the 1980s when bidding wars over players like Adam Oates led to the institution of the short-lived supplemental draft. While it only ran from 1986 to 1994, the supplemental draft did produce a handful of legitimate NHL stars, including John Cullen, Steve Rucchin, and NHLPA ’93 legend Shawn Chambers. It also produced this week’s obscure player: Dave Snuggerud.

Snuggerud was a hard-working winger who made his name at the University of Minnesota and spent time with the American national team in 1988. That stint included an appearance at the Winter Olympics, where he scored three goals for Team USA, as well as a rare international fight against Canada’s Trent Yawney. The Sabres had taken him with the second pick in the 1987 supplemental draft, and he made the team out of training camp in 1989. He scored 14 goals and earned a handful of votes in both the Calder and Selke races his rookie season, which would end up being the best of his career.

While his production dipped after that, he remained an NHL regular for a few years; the Sabres traded him to the Sharks for Wayne Presley in 1992. He also had a quick run with the Flyers, but he was out of the NHL by 1993, and out of pro hockey altogether by 1995. All told, Snuggerud played 265 NHL games and scored 30 goals. His legacy includes some solid hockey hair and one of the most enjoyable names in recent league history.

After his playing days ended, Snuggerud went into teaching and coaching. His nephew Luc is currently a prospect in the Blackhawks’ system.

New Entries for the Hockey Dictionary

The Doan Effect ( noun): The unwritten but nearly universal rule among hockey fans and media which holds that a player who spends all (or almost all) of his career with one franchise seems to get far more love than players with similar resumes who played for several teams.

This concept isn’t new, but with Shane Doan retiring this week after a 21-season career with the Coyotes/Jets, it seems like a good time to give it a name. Doan was a perfectly fine player. He scored 400 goals, could be a physical force, and was a respected leader. He played in two All-Star games. He was good.

But if you didn’t follow hockey and were just going by the reaction to his retirement this week, you might think you were witnessing the end of a legendary career. This is a guy who never finished in the top ten in voting for any major award, or in the top five for postseason All-Star winger honors. He didn’t get a single Hart Trophy vote in his two-decade career.

Shane, your legacy will live on. Photo by Joe Camporeale-USA TODAY Sports

And yet, his retirement feels like a really big deal. That’s the Doan Effect kicking in. Players who are closely identified with one team just seem to get a big boost to all their legacy sliders that players who bounce around the league don’t. It helps explain why Adam Oates and Mark Recchi had to wait years to get into the Hall of Fame, while Mike Modano was a never-in-doubt sure thing. Jeremy Roenick (five teams), Pierre Turgeon (six), and Bernie Nichols (six) aren’t getting in, but Daniel Alfredsson will. I don’t think the Doan Effect is unique to the NHL—it seems to crop up in other sports—but its impact seems especially strong in hockey.

To be clear, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. From a fan’s perspective, a player’s legacy has to be more than the sum of his stats and award votes. There’s something to be said for the connection that develops between a player and a fan base over a long career, and if that bleeds over into the wider perception of a career then that seems fair. It’s a reasonable approach to take.

But it does need a name. And now it has one. Thanks, Shane.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

The Philadelphia Flyers announced this week that they’ll be retiring Eric Lindros’s No. 88 this season, because I told them to. The news comes a year after Lindros finally got his call from the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Hall of Fame induction and number retirement are two of the highest honors any athlete can achieve, but they pale in comparison to the very top of the mountain: appearing on an early 90s episode of The Arsenio Hall Show. Luckily for Lindros, he did that, too.

It’s sometime in the spring of 1993, and a teenaged Lindros has recently finished scoring 41 goals in 61 games as a rookie with the Flyers. He’s also just been named one of People Magazine’s most beautiful people. Life is good.

Now he’s going to appear on The Arsenio Hall Show, which was pretty much the height of coolness back then. Seriously, forget the infamous Sports Illustrated cover a year later—getting a rookie on Arsenio was basically the NHL’s marketing peak.

Arsenio introduces Lindros while making his name rhyme with “Vandross,” and Eric heads out to say hello. Word is he’d planned to charge out wearing a tasseled denim vest, sprint through the crowd, and flip the couch, but somebody else got there first, so he went with the standard handshake.

We start off with a typical Arsenio question, in which he gets really serious while leaning forward and tenting his fingers. Arsenio Hall was more engaged and attentive on every throwaway question he ever asked a guest than I was exchanging my wedding vows. Dude was the best.

Hall mentions having several hockey fans on his staff, including cameraman John Gillis. According to his IMDB page, Gillis’s other credits include Hollywood Squares, My Two Dads, and Solid Gold, just in case you were worried that there wasn’t someone out there having a way cooler life than you.

Hall goes with a thought-provoking question about starting a roster from scratch and the nature of team-building, at which point Lindros responds, “I really don’t know.” I think I might have figured out why hockey players don’t get invited on many talk shows, you guys.

I can’t decide which I want to own more, Lindros’s shirt or Arsenio’s jacket. I think the answer is both, and that I want to wear them at the same time. I could pull that off, right?

“They say you have no weakness. What do you think your weakness is?” asks Hall. Lindros ponders the questions, gets a few words into his answer, then falls over injured and goes on the LTIR for three months.

Actually, Lindros lists a few players who he can’t yet measure up to, including a mention of “Wayne Gretzky, who took the Kings all the way” as the crowd cheers. Wait. Do… do Americans think the Kings won the Stanley Cup in 1993? Did you get an alternate version of the series where they cut off the feed right before McSorley’s stick measurement? How many of Canada’s other dozen Stanley Cups since 1993 have they not told you guys about?

Lindros ends up mentioning four players he can’t compare to: first ballot Hall-of-Famer Brett Hull, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Wayne Gretzky, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Paul Coffey, and… Keith Acton. Huh. That’s the most out of place any pro athlete has ever been in a group of four since Mongo McMichael joined the Horsemen.

We transition into the story of Lindros’s first time on skates, and then into a vaguely weird discussion of him playing barefoot that ends with him saying “skin to win.” I’m so disappointed that he didn’t stick with that as his catchphrase. It sounds so much better than his eventual choice, “I want to strangle Bobby Clarke.”

We move on to topics like teeth and Philadelphia, and you can start to sense Arsenio desperately trying to pull an insightful answer out of this kid. He succeeds somewhat with a question about fighting. Then he mentions talking to Lindros’s dad before the show, which is clearly a lie because Lindros is still here and not holding out for a spot on Chevy Chase.

Lindros drops a mention of Chatham, Ontario, at which point half the audience cheers like they have any idea where that is. Apparently, they’re big on Ferguson Jenkins, Robertson Davies books, and Hawaiian pizza.

Hall starts wrapping things up, at which point Lindros finally says something interesting when he mentions falling down the stairs at school during an awkward growth spurt. Hey, that sounds like a story. We can build on this. Take us home, Eric!

“And uh, I don’t know what happened.”

Epilogue: All of the hockey fans on Hall’s staff were fired three seconds after this episode ended.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you’d like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com .

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Vegas Golden Knights jersey numbers. First of all, they gave No. 97 to David Clarkson. Yes, Connor McDavid's number. To David Clarkson. Who is, I think it's fair to say, not all that Connor McDavid-ish.

So that was weird. But then they made up for it with some solid trolling:

This will get even funnier when Sidney Crosby scores 12 points in his first game in Las Vegas and Gronk-spikes the puck after every one.

The second star: This photo. Speaking of Rob Gronkowski, he is now best friends with Tuukka Rask, and this may be my new favorite sports photo of all time.

The first star: The Senators logo without eyebrows. Why yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. And no, you won't be able to un-see it.

(Original image created by Twitter's @Gerv_Rebrand, who should be in jail.)

Be It Resolved

It's September, and Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a home for the 2017-18 season. This is unacceptable.

Yes, he's 45. Sure, he's lost more than a few steps, to the point where he'd have a hard time beating the Zamboni around the ice these days. And yes, last year's 46 points made for the least productive full season of his career. In a league that's all about speed and youth, plodding old guys aren't exactly in high demand.

Counterpoint: He's Jaromir Freaking Jagr. Let's get this done.

At this point, it seems possible that nobody will sign him, or that he may be reduced to signing a PTO (professional tryout) like some scrub. Hockey fans around the world are slowly coming to terms with the fact that there just aren't many good outcomes left for this story. Maybe Jagr gives up and retires, or he heads back to Europe. Maybe he sits around for half a season waiting for an injury. Or maybe he latches on somewhere as an unwanted fourth-liner, and the whole thing takes on a sad Jerry-Rice-as-a-Seahawk vibe.

There is a better way.

So be it resolved: The NHL must immediately institute the Jaromir Jagr Rule. If you're over 40 and you've won multiple scoring titles and you still want to compete and nobody's signing you, you get to play for everyone.

Yes, everyone. Here's how it works: We give Jagr two more weeks to sign a real NHL contract—no PTOs or two-way deals or any of that nonsense. Somebody commits to the guy, or else we take matters into our own hands.

[Spongebob Squarepants Meme Joke.] Photo by Robert Mayer-USA TODAY Sports

If Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a deal by September 15, he plays for everyone. Every team in the league gets to use Jagr for one home game and one away game. That adds up to 62 games, which sounds about right for a 45-year-old who'll need some rest here and there.

But who gets him for which games? That's the fun part. Gather round your TV, kids, because Saturday, September 15, is the Jaromir Jagr draft. That's right—every team in the league, in reverse order of last year's standings, gets to pick the games it has Jagr in the lineup.

The Golden Knights probably use the first overall pick on their home opener. The Avs could, too—it's the next night, and it's not too far a flight. The better teams might want to save him for crucial games later in the season, especially against the elite teams. OK, let's face it, especially against the Penguins.

Be honest: If the NHL held that draft, you would watch that so hard your eyeballs would explode. And then imagine the season playing out. Jagr's one home game as a Penguin. His return to New York. The Capitals using him for the outdoor game so that he can also be the oldest guy on the alumni team. The home-and-home between the Bruins and the Habs where he plays for both teams. Best of all, the NHL website with a little "Where's Jagr?" graphic, in which he's wearing glasses and a red-and-white striped shirt.

Look, I may have thought about this too much, but don't act like you're not on board. Make this happen, NHL. Your millions of fans, and one very old man with a mullet, are demanding it.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

It's college free agent season, with players like Will Butcher sparking the annual debate over whether NCAA players should have different rights than their CHL counterparts. This has been a long-running issue for the NHL, dating back to the 1980s when bidding wars over players like Adam Oates led to the institution of the short-lived supplemental draft. While it only ran from 1986 to 1994, the supplemental draft did produce a handful of legitimate NHL stars, including John Cullen, Steve Rucchin, and NHLPA '93 legend Shawn Chambers. It also produced this week's obscure player: Dave Snuggerud.

Snuggerud was a hard-working winger who made his name at the University of Minnesota and spent time with the American national team in 1988. That stint included an appearance at the Winter Olympics, where he scored three goals for Team USA, as well as a rare international fight against Canada's Trent Yawney. The Sabres had taken him with the second pick in the 1987 supplemental draft, and he made the team out of training camp in 1989. He scored 14 goals and earned a handful of votes in both the Calder and Selke races his rookie season, which would end up being the best of his career.

While his production dipped after that, he remained an NHL regular for a few years; the Sabres traded him to the Sharks for Wayne Presley in 1992. He also had a quick run with the Flyers, but he was out of the NHL by 1993, and out of pro hockey altogether by 1995. All told, Snuggerud played 265 NHL games and scored 30 goals. His legacy includes some solid hockey hair and one of the most enjoyable names in recent league history.

After his playing days ended, Snuggerud went into teaching and coaching. His nephew Luc is currently a prospect in the Blackhawks' system.

New Entries for the Hockey Dictionary

The Doan Effect ( noun): The unwritten but nearly universal rule among hockey fans and media which holds that a player who spends all (or almost all) of his career with one franchise seems to get far more love than players with similar resumes who played for several teams.

This concept isn't new, but with Shane Doan retiring this week after a 21-season career with the Coyotes/Jets, it seems like a good time to give it a name. Doan was a perfectly fine player. He scored 400 goals, could be a physical force, and was a respected leader. He played in two All-Star games. He was good.

But if you didn't follow hockey and were just going by the reaction to his retirement this week, you might think you were witnessing the end of a legendary career. This is a guy who never finished in the top ten in voting for any major award, or in the top five for postseason All-Star winger honors. He didn't get a single Hart Trophy vote in his two-decade career.

Shane, your legacy will live on. Photo by Joe Camporeale-USA TODAY Sports

And yet, his retirement feels like a really big deal. That's the Doan Effect kicking in. Players who are closely identified with one team just seem to get a big boost to all their legacy sliders that players who bounce around the league don't. It helps explain why Adam Oates and Mark Recchi had to wait years to get into the Hall of Fame, while Mike Modano was a never-in-doubt sure thing. Jeremy Roenick (five teams), Pierre Turgeon (six), and Bernie Nichols (six) aren't getting in, but Daniel Alfredsson will. I don't think the Doan Effect is unique to the NHL—it seems to crop up in other sports—but its impact seems especially strong in hockey.

To be clear, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. From a fan's perspective, a player's legacy has to be more than the sum of his stats and award votes. There's something to be said for the connection that develops between a player and a fan base over a long career, and if that bleeds over into the wider perception of a career then that seems fair. It's a reasonable approach to take.

But it does need a name. And now it has one. Thanks, Shane.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

The Philadelphia Flyers announced this week that they'll be retiring Eric Lindros's No. 88 this season, because I told them to. The news comes a year after Lindros finally got his call from the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Hall of Fame induction and number retirement are two of the highest honors any athlete can achieve, but they pale in comparison to the very top of the mountain: appearing on an early 90s episode of The Arsenio Hall Show. Luckily for Lindros, he did that, too.

It's sometime in the spring of 1993, and a teenaged Lindros has recently finished scoring 41 goals in 61 games as a rookie with the Flyers. He's also just been named one of People Magazine's most beautiful people. Life is good.

Now he's going to appear on The Arsenio Hall Show, which was pretty much the height of coolness back then. Seriously, forget the infamous Sports Illustrated cover a year later—getting a rookie on Arsenio was basically the NHL's marketing peak.

Arsenio introduces Lindros while making his name rhyme with "Vandross," and Eric heads out to say hello. Word is he'd planned to charge out wearing a tasseled denim vest, sprint through the crowd, and flip the couch, but somebody else got there first, so he went with the standard handshake.

We start off with a typical Arsenio question, in which he gets really serious while leaning forward and tenting his fingers. Arsenio Hall was more engaged and attentive on every throwaway question he ever asked a guest than I was exchanging my wedding vows. Dude was the best.

Hall mentions having several hockey fans on his staff, including cameraman John Gillis. According to his IMDB page, Gillis's other credits include Hollywood Squares, My Two Dads, and Solid Gold, just in case you were worried that there wasn't someone out there having a way cooler life than you.

Hall goes with a thought-provoking question about starting a roster from scratch and the nature of team-building, at which point Lindros responds, "I really don't know." I think I might have figured out why hockey players don't get invited on many talk shows, you guys.

I can't decide which I want to own more, Lindros's shirt or Arsenio's jacket. I think the answer is both, and that I want to wear them at the same time. I could pull that off, right?

"They say you have no weakness. What do you think your weakness is?" asks Hall. Lindros ponders the questions, gets a few words into his answer, then falls over injured and goes on the LTIR for three months.

Actually, Lindros lists a few players who he can't yet measure up to, including a mention of "Wayne Gretzky, who took the Kings all the way" as the crowd cheers. Wait. Do… do Americans think the Kings won the Stanley Cup in 1993? Did you get an alternate version of the series where they cut off the feed right before McSorley's stick measurement? How many of Canada's other dozen Stanley Cups since 1993 have they not told you guys about?

Lindros ends up mentioning four players he can't compare to: first ballot Hall-of-Famer Brett Hull, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Wayne Gretzky, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Paul Coffey, and… Keith Acton. Huh. That's the most out of place any pro athlete has ever been in a group of four since Mongo McMichael joined the Horsemen.

We transition into the story of Lindros's first time on skates, and then into a vaguely weird discussion of him playing barefoot that ends with him saying "skin to win." I'm so disappointed that he didn't stick with that as his catchphrase. It sounds so much better than his eventual choice, "I want to strangle Bobby Clarke."

We move on to topics like teeth and Philadelphia, and you can start to sense Arsenio desperately trying to pull an insightful answer out of this kid. He succeeds somewhat with a question about fighting. Then he mentions talking to Lindros's dad before the show, which is clearly a lie because Lindros is still here and not holding out for a spot on Chevy Chase.

Lindros drops a mention of Chatham, Ontario, at which point half the audience cheers like they have any idea where that is. Apparently, they're big on Ferguson Jenkins, Robertson Davies books, and Hawaiian pizza.

Hall starts wrapping things up, at which point Lindros finally says something interesting when he mentions falling down the stairs at school during an awkward growth spurt. Hey, that sounds like a story. We can build on this. Take us home, Eric!

"And uh, I don't know what happened."

Epilogue: All of the hockey fans on Hall's staff were fired three seconds after this episode ended.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com .

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Vegas Golden Knights jersey numbers. First of all, they gave No. 97 to David Clarkson. Yes, Connor McDavid's number. To David Clarkson. Who is, I think it's fair to say, not all that Connor McDavid-ish.

So that was weird. But then they made up for it with some solid trolling:

This will get even funnier when Sidney Crosby scores 12 points in his first game in Las Vegas and Gronk-spikes the puck after every one.

The second star: This photo. Speaking of Rob Gronkowski, he is now best friends with Tuukka Rask, and this may be my new favorite sports photo of all time.

The first star: The Senators logo without eyebrows. Why yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. And no, you won't be able to un-see it.

(Original image created by Twitter's @Gerv_Rebrand, who should be in jail.)

Be It Resolved

It's September, and Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a home for the 2017-18 season. This is unacceptable.

Yes, he's 45. Sure, he's lost more than a few steps, to the point where he'd have a hard time beating the Zamboni around the ice these days. And yes, last year's 46 points made for the least productive full season of his career. In a league that's all about speed and youth, plodding old guys aren't exactly in high demand.

Counterpoint: He's Jaromir Freaking Jagr. Let's get this done.

At this point, it seems possible that nobody will sign him, or that he may be reduced to signing a PTO (professional tryout) like some scrub. Hockey fans around the world are slowly coming to terms with the fact that there just aren't many good outcomes left for this story. Maybe Jagr gives up and retires, or he heads back to Europe. Maybe he sits around for half a season waiting for an injury. Or maybe he latches on somewhere as an unwanted fourth-liner, and the whole thing takes on a sad Jerry-Rice-as-a-Seahawk vibe.

There is a better way.

So be it resolved: The NHL must immediately institute the Jaromir Jagr Rule. If you're over 40 and you've won multiple scoring titles and you still want to compete and nobody's signing you, you get to play for everyone.

Yes, everyone. Here's how it works: We give Jagr two more weeks to sign a real NHL contract—no PTOs or two-way deals or any of that nonsense. Somebody commits to the guy, or else we take matters into our own hands.

[Spongebob Squarepants Meme Joke.] Photo by Robert Mayer-USA TODAY Sports

If Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a deal by September 15, he plays for everyone. Every team in the league gets to use Jagr for one home game and one away game. That adds up to 62 games, which sounds about right for a 45-year-old who'll need some rest here and there.

But who gets him for which games? That's the fun part. Gather round your TV, kids, because Saturday, September 15, is the Jaromir Jagr draft. That's right—every team in the league, in reverse order of last year's standings, gets to pick the games it has Jagr in the lineup.

The Golden Knights probably use the first overall pick on their home opener. The Avs could, too—it's the next night, and it's not too far a flight. The better teams might want to save him for crucial games later in the season, especially against the elite teams. OK, let's face it, especially against the Penguins.

Be honest: If the NHL held that draft, you would watch that so hard your eyeballs would explode. And then imagine the season playing out. Jagr's one home game as a Penguin. His return to New York. The Capitals using him for the outdoor game so that he can also be the oldest guy on the alumni team. The home-and-home between the Bruins and the Habs where he plays for both teams. Best of all, the NHL website with a little "Where's Jagr?" graphic, in which he's wearing glasses and a red-and-white striped shirt.

Look, I may have thought about this too much, but don't act like you're not on board. Make this happen, NHL. Your millions of fans, and one very old man with a mullet, are demanding it.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

It's college free agent season, with players like Will Butcher sparking the annual debate over whether NCAA players should have different rights than their CHL counterparts. This has been a long-running issue for the NHL, dating back to the 1980s when bidding wars over players like Adam Oates led to the institution of the short-lived supplemental draft. While it only ran from 1986 to 1994, the supplemental draft did produce a handful of legitimate NHL stars, including John Cullen, Steve Rucchin, and NHLPA '93 legend Shawn Chambers. It also produced this week's obscure player: Dave Snuggerud.

Snuggerud was a hard-working winger who made his name at the University of Minnesota and spent time with the American national team in 1988. That stint included an appearance at the Winter Olympics, where he scored three goals for Team USA, as well as a rare international fight against Canada's Trent Yawney. The Sabres had taken him with the second pick in the 1987 supplemental draft, and he made the team out of training camp in 1989. He scored 14 goals and earned a handful of votes in both the Calder and Selke races his rookie season, which would end up being the best of his career.

While his production dipped after that, he remained an NHL regular for a few years; the Sabres traded him to the Sharks for Wayne Presley in 1992. He also had a quick run with the Flyers, but he was out of the NHL by 1993, and out of pro hockey altogether by 1995. All told, Snuggerud played 265 NHL games and scored 30 goals. His legacy includes some solid hockey hair and one of the most enjoyable names in recent league history.

After his playing days ended, Snuggerud went into teaching and coaching. His nephew Luc is currently a prospect in the Blackhawks' system.

New Entries for the Hockey Dictionary

The Doan Effect ( noun): The unwritten but nearly universal rule among hockey fans and media which holds that a player who spends all (or almost all) of his career with one franchise seems to get far more love than players with similar resumes who played for several teams.

This concept isn't new, but with Shane Doan retiring this week after a 21-season career with the Coyotes/Jets, it seems like a good time to give it a name. Doan was a perfectly fine player. He scored 400 goals, could be a physical force, and was a respected leader. He played in two All-Star games. He was good.

But if you didn't follow hockey and were just going by the reaction to his retirement this week, you might think you were witnessing the end of a legendary career. This is a guy who never finished in the top ten in voting for any major award, or in the top five for postseason All-Star winger honors. He didn't get a single Hart Trophy vote in his two-decade career.

Shane, your legacy will live on. Photo by Joe Camporeale-USA TODAY Sports

And yet, his retirement feels like a really big deal. That's the Doan Effect kicking in. Players who are closely identified with one team just seem to get a big boost to all their legacy sliders that players who bounce around the league don't. It helps explain why Adam Oates and Mark Recchi had to wait years to get into the Hall of Fame, while Mike Modano was a never-in-doubt sure thing. Jeremy Roenick (five teams), Pierre Turgeon (six), and Bernie Nichols (six) aren't getting in, but Daniel Alfredsson will. I don't think the Doan Effect is unique to the NHL—it seems to crop up in other sports—but its impact seems especially strong in hockey.

To be clear, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. From a fan's perspective, a player's legacy has to be more than the sum of his stats and award votes. There's something to be said for the connection that develops between a player and a fan base over a long career, and if that bleeds over into the wider perception of a career then that seems fair. It's a reasonable approach to take.

But it does need a name. And now it has one. Thanks, Shane.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

The Philadelphia Flyers announced this week that they'll be retiring Eric Lindros's No. 88 this season, because I told them to. The news comes a year after Lindros finally got his call from the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Hall of Fame induction and number retirement are two of the highest honors any athlete can achieve, but they pale in comparison to the very top of the mountain: appearing on an early 90s episode of The Arsenio Hall Show. Luckily for Lindros, he did that, too.

It's sometime in the spring of 1993, and a teenaged Lindros has recently finished scoring 41 goals in 61 games as a rookie with the Flyers. He's also just been named one of People Magazine's most beautiful people. Life is good.

Now he's going to appear on The Arsenio Hall Show, which was pretty much the height of coolness back then. Seriously, forget the infamous Sports Illustrated cover a year later—getting a rookie on Arsenio was basically the NHL's marketing peak.

Arsenio introduces Lindros while making his name rhyme with "Vandross," and Eric heads out to say hello. Word is he'd planned to charge out wearing a tasseled denim vest, sprint through the crowd, and flip the couch, but somebody else got there first, so he went with the standard handshake.

We start off with a typical Arsenio question, in which he gets really serious while leaning forward and tenting his fingers. Arsenio Hall was more engaged and attentive on every throwaway question he ever asked a guest than I was exchanging my wedding vows. Dude was the best.

Hall mentions having several hockey fans on his staff, including cameraman John Gillis. According to his IMDB page, Gillis's other credits include Hollywood Squares, My Two Dads, and Solid Gold, just in case you were worried that there wasn't someone out there having a way cooler life than you.

Hall goes with a thought-provoking question about starting a roster from scratch and the nature of team-building, at which point Lindros responds, "I really don't know." I think I might have figured out why hockey players don't get invited on many talk shows, you guys.

I can't decide which I want to own more, Lindros's shirt or Arsenio's jacket. I think the answer is both, and that I want to wear them at the same time. I could pull that off, right?

"They say you have no weakness. What do you think your weakness is?" asks Hall. Lindros ponders the questions, gets a few words into his answer, then falls over injured and goes on the LTIR for three months.

Actually, Lindros lists a few players who he can't yet measure up to, including a mention of "Wayne Gretzky, who took the Kings all the way" as the crowd cheers. Wait. Do… do Americans think the Kings won the Stanley Cup in 1993? Did you get an alternate version of the series where they cut off the feed right before McSorley's stick measurement? How many of Canada's other dozen Stanley Cups since 1993 have they not told you guys about?

Lindros ends up mentioning four players he can't compare to: first ballot Hall-of-Famer Brett Hull, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Wayne Gretzky, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Paul Coffey, and… Keith Acton. Huh. That's the most out of place any pro athlete has ever been in a group of four since Mongo McMichael joined the Horsemen.

We transition into the story of Lindros's first time on skates, and then into a vaguely weird discussion of him playing barefoot that ends with him saying "skin to win." I'm so disappointed that he didn't stick with that as his catchphrase. It sounds so much better than his eventual choice, "I want to strangle Bobby Clarke."

We move on to topics like teeth and Philadelphia, and you can start to sense Arsenio desperately trying to pull an insightful answer out of this kid. He succeeds somewhat with a question about fighting. Then he mentions talking to Lindros's dad before the show, which is clearly a lie because Lindros is still here and not holding out for a spot on Chevy Chase.

Lindros drops a mention of Chatham, Ontario, at which point half the audience cheers like they have any idea where that is. Apparently, they're big on Ferguson Jenkins, Robertson Davies books, and Hawaiian pizza.

Hall starts wrapping things up, at which point Lindros finally says something interesting when he mentions falling down the stairs at school during an awkward growth spurt. Hey, that sounds like a story. We can build on this. Take us home, Eric!

"And uh, I don't know what happened."

Epilogue: All of the hockey fans on Hall's staff were fired three seconds after this episode ended.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com .

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Vegas Golden Knights jersey numbers. First of all, they gave No. 97 to David Clarkson. Yes, Connor McDavid's number. To David Clarkson. Who is, I think it's fair to say, not all that Connor McDavid-ish.

So that was weird. But then they made up for it with some solid trolling:

This will get even funnier when Sidney Crosby scores 12 points in his first game in Las Vegas and Gronk-spikes the puck after every one.

The second star: This photo. Speaking of Rob Gronkowski, he is now best friends with Tuukka Rask, and this may be my new favorite sports photo of all time.

The first star: The Senators logo without eyebrows. Why yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. And no, you won't be able to un-see it.

(Original image created by Twitter's @Gerv_Rebrand, who should be in jail.)

Be It Resolved

It's September, and Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a home for the 2017-18 season. This is unacceptable.

Yes, he's 45. Sure, he's lost more than a few steps, to the point where he'd have a hard time beating the Zamboni around the ice these days. And yes, last year's 46 points made for the least productive full season of his career. In a league that's all about speed and youth, plodding old guys aren't exactly in high demand.

Counterpoint: He's Jaromir Freaking Jagr. Let's get this done.

At this point, it seems possible that nobody will sign him, or that he may be reduced to signing a PTO (professional tryout) like some scrub. Hockey fans around the world are slowly coming to terms with the fact that there just aren't many good outcomes left for this story. Maybe Jagr gives up and retires, or he heads back to Europe. Maybe he sits around for half a season waiting for an injury. Or maybe he latches on somewhere as an unwanted fourth-liner, and the whole thing takes on a sad Jerry-Rice-as-a-Seahawk vibe.

There is a better way.

So be it resolved: The NHL must immediately institute the Jaromir Jagr Rule. If you're over 40 and you've won multiple scoring titles and you still want to compete and nobody's signing you, you get to play for everyone.

Yes, everyone. Here's how it works: We give Jagr two more weeks to sign a real NHL contract—no PTOs or two-way deals or any of that nonsense. Somebody commits to the guy, or else we take matters into our own hands.

[Spongebob Squarepants Meme Joke.] Photo by Robert Mayer-USA TODAY Sports

If Jaromir Jagr still doesn't have a deal by September 15, he plays for everyone. Every team in the league gets to use Jagr for one home game and one away game. That adds up to 62 games, which sounds about right for a 45-year-old who'll need some rest here and there.

But who gets him for which games? That's the fun part. Gather round your TV, kids, because Saturday, September 15, is the Jaromir Jagr draft. That's right—every team in the league, in reverse order of last year's standings, gets to pick the games it has Jagr in the lineup.

The Golden Knights probably use the first overall pick on their home opener. The Avs could, too—it's the next night, and it's not too far a flight. The better teams might want to save him for crucial games later in the season, especially against the elite teams. OK, let's face it, especially against the Penguins.

Be honest: If the NHL held that draft, you would watch that so hard your eyeballs would explode. And then imagine the season playing out. Jagr's one home game as a Penguin. His return to New York. The Capitals using him for the outdoor game so that he can also be the oldest guy on the alumni team. The home-and-home between the Bruins and the Habs where he plays for both teams. Best of all, the NHL website with a little "Where's Jagr?" graphic, in which he's wearing glasses and a red-and-white striped shirt.

Look, I may have thought about this too much, but don't act like you're not on board. Make this happen, NHL. Your millions of fans, and one very old man with a mullet, are demanding it.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

It's college free agent season, with players like Will Butcher sparking the annual debate over whether NCAA players should have different rights than their CHL counterparts. This has been a long-running issue for the NHL, dating back to the 1980s when bidding wars over players like Adam Oates led to the institution of the short-lived supplemental draft. While it only ran from 1986 to 1994, the supplemental draft did produce a handful of legitimate NHL stars, including John Cullen, Steve Rucchin, and NHLPA '93 legend Shawn Chambers. It also produced this week's obscure player: Dave Snuggerud.

Snuggerud was a hard-working winger who made his name at the University of Minnesota and spent time with the American national team in 1988. That stint included an appearance at the Winter Olympics, where he scored three goals for Team USA, as well as a rare international fight against Canada's Trent Yawney. The Sabres had taken him with the second pick in the 1987 supplemental draft, and he made the team out of training camp in 1989. He scored 14 goals and earned a handful of votes in both the Calder and Selke races his rookie season, which would end up being the best of his career.

While his production dipped after that, he remained an NHL regular for a few years; the Sabres traded him to the Sharks for Wayne Presley in 1992. He also had a quick run with the Flyers, but he was out of the NHL by 1993, and out of pro hockey altogether by 1995. All told, Snuggerud played 265 NHL games and scored 30 goals. His legacy includes some solid hockey hair and one of the most enjoyable names in recent league history.

After his playing days ended, Snuggerud went into teaching and coaching. His nephew Luc is currently a prospect in the Blackhawks' system.

New Entries for the Hockey Dictionary

The Doan Effect ( noun): The unwritten but nearly universal rule among hockey fans and media which holds that a player who spends all (or almost all) of his career with one franchise seems to get far more love than players with similar resumes who played for several teams.

This concept isn't new, but with Shane Doan retiring this week after a 21-season career with the Coyotes/Jets, it seems like a good time to give it a name. Doan was a perfectly fine player. He scored 400 goals, could be a physical force, and was a respected leader. He played in two All-Star games. He was good.

But if you didn't follow hockey and were just going by the reaction to his retirement this week, you might think you were witnessing the end of a legendary career. This is a guy who never finished in the top ten in voting for any major award, or in the top five for postseason All-Star winger honors. He didn't get a single Hart Trophy vote in his two-decade career.

Shane, your legacy will live on. Photo by Joe Camporeale-USA TODAY Sports

And yet, his retirement feels like a really big deal. That's the Doan Effect kicking in. Players who are closely identified with one team just seem to get a big boost to all their legacy sliders that players who bounce around the league don't. It helps explain why Adam Oates and Mark Recchi had to wait years to get into the Hall of Fame, while Mike Modano was a never-in-doubt sure thing. Jeremy Roenick (five teams), Pierre Turgeon (six), and Bernie Nichols (six) aren't getting in, but Daniel Alfredsson will. I don't think the Doan Effect is unique to the NHL—it seems to crop up in other sports—but its impact seems especially strong in hockey.

To be clear, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. From a fan's perspective, a player's legacy has to be more than the sum of his stats and award votes. There's something to be said for the connection that develops between a player and a fan base over a long career, and if that bleeds over into the wider perception of a career then that seems fair. It's a reasonable approach to take.

But it does need a name. And now it has one. Thanks, Shane.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

The Philadelphia Flyers announced this week that they'll be retiring Eric Lindros's No. 88 this season, because I told them to. The news comes a year after Lindros finally got his call from the Hockey Hall of Fame.

Hall of Fame induction and number retirement are two of the highest honors any athlete can achieve, but they pale in comparison to the very top of the mountain: appearing on an early 90s episode of The Arsenio Hall Show. Luckily for Lindros, he did that, too.

It's sometime in the spring of 1993, and a teenaged Lindros has recently finished scoring 41 goals in 61 games as a rookie with the Flyers. He's also just been named one of People Magazine's most beautiful people. Life is good.

Now he's going to appear on The Arsenio Hall Show, which was pretty much the height of coolness back then. Seriously, forget the infamous Sports Illustrated cover a year later—getting a rookie on Arsenio was basically the NHL's marketing peak.

Arsenio introduces Lindros while making his name rhyme with "Vandross," and Eric heads out to say hello. Word is he'd planned to charge out wearing a tasseled denim vest, sprint through the crowd, and flip the couch, but somebody else got there first, so he went with the standard handshake.

We start off with a typical Arsenio question, in which he gets really serious while leaning forward and tenting his fingers. Arsenio Hall was more engaged and attentive on every throwaway question he ever asked a guest than I was exchanging my wedding vows. Dude was the best.

Hall mentions having several hockey fans on his staff, including cameraman John Gillis. According to his IMDB page, Gillis's other credits include Hollywood Squares, My Two Dads, and Solid Gold, just in case you were worried that there wasn't someone out there having a way cooler life than you.

Hall goes with a thought-provoking question about starting a roster from scratch and the nature of team-building, at which point Lindros responds, "I really don't know." I think I might have figured out why hockey players don't get invited on many talk shows, you guys.

I can't decide which I want to own more, Lindros's shirt or Arsenio's jacket. I think the answer is both, and that I want to wear them at the same time. I could pull that off, right?

"They say you have no weakness. What do you think your weakness is?" asks Hall. Lindros ponders the questions, gets a few words into his answer, then falls over injured and goes on the LTIR for three months.

Actually, Lindros lists a few players who he can't yet measure up to, including a mention of "Wayne Gretzky, who took the Kings all the way" as the crowd cheers. Wait. Do… do Americans think the Kings won the Stanley Cup in 1993? Did you get an alternate version of the series where they cut off the feed right before McSorley's stick measurement? How many of Canada's other dozen Stanley Cups since 1993 have they not told you guys about?

Lindros ends up mentioning four players he can't compare to: first ballot Hall-of-Famer Brett Hull, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Wayne Gretzky, first ballot Hall-of-Famer Paul Coffey, and… Keith Acton. Huh. That's the most out of place any pro athlete has ever been in a group of four since Mongo McMichael joined the Horsemen.

We transition into the story of Lindros's first time on skates, and then into a vaguely weird discussion of him playing barefoot that ends with him saying "skin to win." I'm so disappointed that he didn't stick with that as his catchphrase. It sounds so much better than his eventual choice, "I want to strangle Bobby Clarke."

We move on to topics like teeth and Philadelphia, and you can start to sense Arsenio desperately trying to pull an insightful answer out of this kid. He succeeds somewhat with a question about fighting. Then he mentions talking to Lindros's dad before the show, which is clearly a lie because Lindros is still here and not holding out for a spot on Chevy Chase.

Lindros drops a mention of Chatham, Ontario, at which point half the audience cheers like they have any idea where that is. Apparently, they're big on Ferguson Jenkins, Robertson Davies books, and Hawaiian pizza.

Hall starts wrapping things up, at which point Lindros finally says something interesting when he mentions falling down the stairs at school during an awkward growth spurt. Hey, that sounds like a story. We can build on this. Take us home, Eric!

"And uh, I don't know what happened."

Epilogue: All of the hockey fans on Hall's staff were fired three seconds after this episode ended.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com .

DGB Grab Bag: Jagr Draft Proposal, Doan Effect, and Lindros on Arsenio Hall published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv