#ziawrites

[butchmarner]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Men's Hockey RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick Additional Tags: Light Angst Summary:

The whole point of the trip was that no one would know. They would leave their phones at home, and it would just be the two of them, 7 hours away from any major city, with the bugs and the trees and each other and nothing else.

[fanartshmanart]

You have 3 new messages in your inbox from Kenny.

Sept 9, 2009, 10:34pm

“Hey, Zimms, just calling to say hey, I know you’re probably busy with, you know, rehab things and stuff. But- I mean I’m busy too, obvs, with the whole playing-professional-hockey and shit. But call me up if you wanna chat. Later!”

Oct 2, 2009, 2:11am

“Heya, Zimms, it’s like, 2 a.m. here, haha. Just thinking of you. You know I haven’t talked to you since the whole thing went down, but your dad called, said you’re doing okay. That’s good. Um. Yeah I’m doing good too. The team is… good. Yeah, it’s good, my lineys are great. Not as good as you, obviously. But nah, they’re good guys. Just, ya know, not my best friend. So. If you wanted to talk, you know my number. Okay, miss ya.”

Oct 29, 2009, 1:33am

“Ziiiiimms… I miss you, man… ‘cause, like, you haven’t talked to me in, like, 3 months, and the last time I saw you you were in the ambulance, and I know you’re okay but it would be nice to hear from you, ya know? … I think I’ve left, like, 50 messages in your inbox by now, huh. Sorry ‘bout that. I really have to stop calling you drunk. I miss you.”

Would you like to delete three messages?

Messages deleted. You have 0 new messages.

Dec 25, 2009, 4:54am

Joyeux noel, zimms :)

New Message from Kenny

March 24, 2012, 9:20pm

“Hey, um. I’m sorry for stopping by yesterday. And for the things I said, that was a real asshole move on my part. So… yeah. Sorry.”

The number you’re calling has been disconnected.

May 4, 2015, 10:11am

+1-509-676-3885

Hey. I’m in town this week if you want to meet up.

This is Jack, by the way.

You - 10:13am

Jack, hey! Yeah, sure, wanna grab lunch on Friday?

+1-509-676-3885 - 10:24am

Sounds good.

----

Kent sat at the coffee shop table with one hand wrapped around his mug and the other digging into his thigh under the table. “So. Uh, how’s your parents?”

“You don’t talk to them anymore?” Jack asked.

“Ah, no.” Kent shifted in his seat. “Saw them at an awards show earlier this year, but we don’t really keep up, after… Well, they had bigger things to deal with, you know, and we both got busy, so.”

“Right, yeah,” Jack nodded. “No, yeah, they’re good. Always talking about wedding things, now, it feels like.”

“Oh, yeah, congratulations,” Kent gestured to the ring on Jack’s finger. Jack smiled down softly at it. “And on coming out, that’s huge, man.”

“Thanks,” Jack’s smile was small, but he looked happier than Kent had ever seen him. “It just felt about time, you know? I was ready.”

Kent didn’t know. You used to get panic attacks at the thought of your parents knowing about us, he thought. I spent hours on end convincing you that no one would ever find out. That we’d be okay. “Yeah totally,” he said. His eyes had been trained on Jack’s right ear for their entire conversation so far. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle icy blue.

“How about you?” Jack asked.

“Huh?”

“You ever thought about coming out?”

Kent barked out a laugh. “Hah! No.”

“Why not?”

“I just…” You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with, did you know that? I wouldn’t risk it for anyone else. “Don’t really have a reason to right now.”

“Ah, makes sense.” There was an awkward pause, both of them busying themselves with their food.

“So, are you and, uh, Eric, planning on getting any pets?” He asked, steering the conversation to a safer topic. “I know you always wanted a dog.”

Jack hummed. “I don’t know, actually, we haven’t really talked about it. Bitty mentioned he likes rabbits, they’re like a cat but quieter.”

Kent scoffed jokingly. “Nah, man, cats are the best, I’m telling you.”

Jack laughed. “And you’d know?”

Kent paused. “I, uh, yeah, I’ve had a cat for, like, 4 years now.”

“Huh,” Jack nodded, “Never thought you’d be a cat person.”

“Yeah, she’s… real sweet.” Kent finally placed the sinking feeling in his stomach. It was the realization that Jack had changed into a person he didn’t know anymore, and Jack didn’t know him either. They weren’t Parson-Zimmermann anymore, Weren’t Zimms and Kenny. They were just two people who used to be friends, on paths that probably wouldn’t merge again.

“It’s been great catching up with you,” Jack said when they were standing up to leave. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, totally,” Kent said, reaching for a smile. “If you ever want to meet up, you know my number.”

[and-other-savory-things]

The captive had been feverish for over a day now, alternating between restless sleep and hallucinating wakefulness. His bleary eyes opened when the captor and his sidekick burst into his cell, too exhausted to even turn away as they came over to where he was lying. 

“Open your mouth, we need to take your temperature.” The captive was too feverish to do anything but comply. He cracked his mouth open and it was yanked wider immediately. The captive let out a choked groan as a thermometer was shoved under his tongue. He began to cough and struggle, but the captor held him in place by his jaw until the thermometer beeped. 

The captive’s body wracked with coughs when he was released from the hold. He was vaguely aware of mutterings before they were pulled into fitful slumber again. 

[bcnoist]

💖 Send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile! 💖 (💖 have a lovely day!💖)

    sorry i’m late to respond but this is SO nice of you !!!! thank you so much, i hope you have a lovely day as well !!

[wendlaplots]

💖 Send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile! 💖 (💖 have a lovely day!💖)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[winterhelps]

FAVE CHARACTERS TAG MEME.

rules: name your top 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people.

tagged by @bcnoist - thanks dilan <33

tagging: @nyssavexhelps, @lolasmuse, @smallbrazilianperson, @ziawrites, @fumcro and everyone that wanna do it!

Harry Potter: Hermione Granger ♥

The OC: Seth Cohen

Scandal: Olivia Pope (she's such a goddess omg)

Grey's Anatomy: Jo Wilson, Lexie Grey and Alex Karev (i can't choose one so i'm cheating)

Marvel: Black Widow 

DC: Wonder Woman 

DC - again bc this is regarding the CW's tv shows: Caitlin Snow

The Good Place: Eleanor Shellstrop 

Elementary: Joan Watson

High School Musical (why not? i don't have more fandoms): Gabriella Montez (i love Sharpay too but when i was a kid i used to love gabriella SO MUCH) 

[lostkids]

💖 Send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile! 💖 (💖 have a lovely day!💖)

this is honestly making my day, tysm, this is the sweetest !! ♥

[fanartshmanart]

Pulling into the driveway of his childhood home still elicited the same feelings it always did. Relief. Exhaustion. Something settling back into place inside of him that he wasn’t aware was misaligned until that moment. Dread. He never missed this place when he was gone, but no matter the associations he now had attached to it, it still felt like coming home.

It shouldn’t feel like that, he thought. He hadn’t lived there for 5 years, and his parents had been gone for that long as well. He’d made his own life away from it. He had never felt like he belonged in this farmhouse. Always an outsider, always different from his father, his brothers. And yet, the oak tree out front with the shady branches and the large spot of peeled away bark had inexplicably deep roots in him. Memories he’d thought he’d forgotten came rushing back at the sight of it- lifting Matthew up to help him grab a branch, playing with the giant ant hill at the base of the tree, crashing the car into the trunk late at night because his father was drunk and Declan was 14 and wasn’t supposed to be driving yet but had to get them home and had made it without incident until that point.

He parked his Volvo neatly in front of the garage door. The car dinged at him when he unbuckled his seatbelt before turning off the car. He got out and the slam of the door was muffled in the quiet evening air. There were no human sounds out here, just the loud chirping of crickets and faint rustling from the barn to the right. His oxfords crunched on the gravel as he walked up to the porch.

The door required a knock from him now. He used to burst through it without a second thought, but it hadn't been his home in years.

[fanartshmanart]

Cup magic was a rumour Kent never really believed, until he found himself standing in his 18-year-old self’s bedroom in Vegas. At more years past 30 than he’d like to admit, he’d expected to wake up in Quebec next to his fiance this morning with a slight hangover and memories of the cup win celebration from the night before. Instead, he was staring at his younger self sitting on a twin bed in front of an Oceanic jersey with a 1 emblazoned on the back.

‘Ah, shit,’ Kent thought. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this.

“Who the hell are you?” His younger self said, through a voice pretending not to be thick with tears.

Kent’s hand flopped away from his face, palm up. “Who does it look like I am?” He said, bemused.

“Some washed up old hockey player,” Kenny shrugged- and he really did look like a Kenny, all freckles and scattered pimples and messy blond hair and so, so young.

“Rude,” Kent replied. He watched his 18-year-old self try to subtly wipe off his cheeks. Eighteen- he was really just a kid. Who let this kid get shipped across the country, all alone with an entire team’s expectations riding on him? “Are you okay?” He asked, then shook his head. “No. No you’re not, I know that.” He took a deep breath, trying to remember everything that was spiraling in his thoughts at that age. It wasn’t pretty. “I’m sorry. It sucks right now, huh?”

Kenny just glared down at the bed, so Kent continued. “It does get better. You are happy, eventually, just… not right now. Not for a long time. But it’s worth it, to stay alive.”

He adjusted his cap- still on his head from the night before, he assumed- and took another breath. It hurt more than he would have expected, seeing himself like this. “We have a kid now- never expected that, huh?”

Kenny looked up in horror. “I’m a dad?”

Kent laughed. “You definitely aren’t yet. I am, though. Pretty good at it, too.”

Kenny looked back down at the frayed jersey sleeve edge he was playing with. “So… you have a wife and stuff?”

“Dude…” Kent frowned and leaned his head to the side, as if to say ‘come on.’ “You know-” at Kenny’s abrupt look of poorly concealed fear, he decided not to continue that sentence and shook his head. “I’ll let you figure that out.” His eyes drifted down to the blue jersey on the bed. “It’s not him, though,” he said quickly. “Yeah, that…” he sighed. “That wound hurts for a while.”

“It’s whatever,” his own self lied to him, but Kent decided not to call him out for it.

Kent stood there in silence for a while, the rush of feelings and memories from being confronted with this a lot to deal with. Then Kenny looked up and caught sight of Kent’s new hat. “That’s not an Aces hat,” he gaped.

Kent laughed and covered the blue and red logo. “Hey, spoilers,” he joked.

“For my own life?” Kenny replied, indignantly.

“Hey, I don’t know how time travel works, I don’t know what I am and am not allowed to tell you.” Kenny rolled his eyes at that. “It is your fourth cup hat, though,” Kent grinned, “so have fun with that.”

“Nice.” Kenny grinned back, but Kent saw it was closer to his media smile than the genuine, toothy one.

Kent pursed his lips. “Listen,” he said, “I know other people say you don’t need anyone to inflate your ego more.” He was suddenly more sincere than he’d ever been, knowing he had needed to hear this. “But… you do so good, and you work so hard, I know that.” He pushed the truth out through his words. “And I’m so proud of you.”

Kent watched his younger self scrunch his eyebrows and blink his eyes rapidly. He thought back to what he really needed that rookie year, and the “can I hug you?” was out of his mouth not a second later.

Kenny shrugged, but Kent knew himself well enough to read that as a desperate yes. He stepped forwards and Kenny did too, standing up off the bed. Kent held his younger self as the teen’s shoulders began to shake with muffled sobs.

“Hey,” Kent said softly. He felt tears prickle his own eyes. It hurt to remember how he felt then, but mostly, his heart ached for his past self, for how the world had treated him, for how much he had survived through. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

[and-other-savory-things]

Hi I got bored and wrote Phillip and Schmidt pt. 3

“throw them down a hole” okay thanks @calicoroserackham this one’s for you…

Phillip hated asking for help. It was a point of pride. A ‘he got himself into this mess, he could get himself out’ kind of thing. But he had to concede that, after 3 hours of struggling, he didn’t think he could get himself out of this one.

The phone rang three times before anyone picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Schmidt,” Phillip’s voice is tired. “You busy?”

“Phillip, if you are calling me while high again I will cut off your limbs.”

The teen choked out a laugh. “I wish. And that was one time, let it go, man.”

“No fucking chance, why the hell are you calling?”

“Look I…” Phillip sighed. “I need… your… help.”

He could hear Schmidt’s smug smile on the other end. “Hmm, sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Can we save the gloating until a-ahhh-” he gasped in pain as he jostled his leg. “-until after, please?”

“Are you hurt?” Schmidt asked, his tone changing immediately.

“… Yeah.” Phillip closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool, damp concrete as he took stock again. “Broken leg. Definitely. Bruised ribs, but I don’t think they’re broken, and maybe a concussion? Also I’m…”

“You’re what? Where are you, I’ll come get you.” Already there were sounds of shuffling and the jangle of keys in the background.

“I’m… stuck.” Phillip winced. This was embarrassing. “In… a hole. The bottom of a sewer.”

“You remember you can fly, right?”

Phillip huffed frustration, getting worked up. “Yeah I fucking know that, Schmidt. They just- I- I need my hands to, to propel me and they put me in these- stupid, fucking- cuffs before they threw me down here, and I can’t do anything, I just-”

“Okay, kid. Calm down.” Schmidt’s voice was steady. “I’m coming to get you, don’t worry. Do you know where you are?”

“I… I think around the corner of Dundas and Huron…that’s where I was when Grey jumped me.” He could barely see the grate far above him, but he could picture the bubble tea place on the corner clearly.

“Right, I- Grey did this?” Schmidt asked in outrage, muttering something under his breath that Phillip thought was “fucking bastard”. He couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah, he’s a real asshole,” His laugh turned into another wet cough. “Hey, can you hurry up, I think I’m getting pneumonia,” he tried to joke.

“It’s November, and you’re probably wearing spandex, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“It’s- it’s not spandex, okay-” Phillip sputtered.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be there in 10. Don’t pass out on me, okay?”

His lips quirked up into a relieved smile. “No promises.”

[and-other-savory-things]

My writing is shite and this took way too long and it is now 2am but I was inspired by @whumpiary 's post about pet names that I can't link because I'm on mobile but here have words idk.

It's hard to distinguish because, again, my writing is shite, so ...

Whumpee : he/him

Caretaker : they/them, whumpee's partner

The first time his partner had called him that, the name slipped out completely on accident.

"Can you grab the door, my darling?"

Spurred on by the blush on their partner's normally stoic face, the term of endearment stuck. Whumpee loved the pet name a lot more than he would admit, right up until his capture.

Whumper had called him many things at first, but none gave them a reaction quite as strong as 'my darling'.

"Don't you ever call me that." Whumpee had growled at first, still so full of fight.

The whumper smiled.

By the end, whumpee had heard the term from the mouth of the whumper almost as often as he had from his partner.

"Now, now, darling, that's no way for you to talk to me!"

"You look beautiful covered in red, my darling."

"Try to keep it down, darling, we can't have the whole town hearing your screams."

It was the morning of whumpee's third day back with his partner when he heard that name again.

"How are you feeling, darling?"

Whumpee flinch was unmistakable, curling in on himself and reaching up to cover his ears.

"[Whumpee]?" His partner rushed over and felt his shaking when they put their hand on his shoulder. It took a few minutes before the silence was broken by the whumpee's shattered whisper.

"Please don't call me that."

They pulled their partner into an embrace, ignoring the tears welling up in their eyes. "Of course not, my love."

[fanartshmanart]

Okay

Here have concussion Kent, with appearances from Whiskey, Raylan, and my linguistics degree

Whiskey's hands start shaking the minute he sees his husband take a nasty hit into the boards and not get up. It’s late in the third, past Raylan's bedtime, whom Whiskey had put to bed after the second period. Whiskey fumbles with the remote as he struggles to turn off the TV. His brain moves on autopilot as he dials a number for someone to watch Raylan, bundles a mostly-asleep 5 year old into a coat and car seat, and then drives to the Zimmermann's. He stands in their entryway for a few minutes, Raylan almost asleep again in Bob's arms, as he waits for any updates, any direction for what he should do. Finally, a text from Bobby, telling him that Kent is at the General hospital and little else. "We'll be there as soon as we hear anything," Alicia assures him. Whiskey gives Raylan a kiss on his head and nods. He isn't sure if he's even strung a full sentence since he got to their house. He gets into his car and leaves. His hands grip the steering wheel as he tries to stop his brain from replaying the way Kent's head had snapped against the boards and back, how he had dropped down to the ice and hadn't moved. How he didn't even try to get up as they strapped him to the stretcher, not even giving a thumps up to the crowd as he was taken off. He’s still shaking as he sits in the hospital waiting room after fumbling through questions and explanations. He spends the better part of an hour alternating between pacing the hallway and sitting with his leg bouncing anxiously, until finally they say he can see him. He doesn't stop shaking until he pushes open the door to the dimly lit room and sees his husband lying there. Kent smiles weakly when he recognizes Whiskey. Whiskeys shoulders drop in relief at the sight. He lets out a whoosh of air and smiles back. "Hey, baby," he says. He runs a hand over his face to collect himself before walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hey," Kent says slowly. "How are you feeling?" He asks, brushing some hair out of Kent's face. "The doctor said you had some bruised ribs, and slight amnesia from your concussion. Do you remember-" Whiskey trails off when he sees the confused look on Kent's face. "What the matter, baby?" "I don't-" Kent speaks slowly, as if it takes him a lot of effort to form each word. "Words. Too many." "Okay." Whiskey remembers the list of side effects the doctor had told him Kent was experiencing- difficulty thinking, a hard time understanding and producing speech- and grabs his hand. "That's okay. Should I speak slower?" Whiskey asks, taking his time. Kent nods. "Sorry. Can't- think." "Don't apologize. Your head's been through a lot. That hit looked nasty." "Was hockey?" "Yeah," Whiskey says. "Not a lot of other places where you get this banged up." Kent nods as much as he can without jostling his head even more. "Though so. Didn't- remember." Whiskey can tell Kent’s getting frustrated with how much effort it takes to get his words out. He runs his thumb along the back of Kent's hand comfortingly. Kent looks up quickly, like he'd just remembered something. "Raylan?" Whiskey smiles. "He's at Bob and Alicia's. I woke him up and dropped him off before coming here. I don't think he really knew what was going on." Kent takes a few moments to process Whiskey's sentences before he grins. "Me. Same." Whiskey shakes his head and laughs at his dumb joke. "They'll probably come down in the morning." "You stay?" Kent asks hopefully. He looks exhausted, and Whiskey knows he should let him sleep soon. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Whiskey watches Kent fall asleep, then pulls a chair up beside him and sits down. He intertwines his fingers with Kent’s, comforting himself by watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s alive. That’s all that matters. They’ll get through the rest.

He sends off a text to Alicia, telling them to come in the morning, then falls asleep with his head on top of the blanket of Kent’s bed.

Raylan comes into the hospital the next morning with the Zimmermann’s after Whiskey had gotten back from grabbing himself some breakfast from the in-hospital Tim’s. The four year old seems a bit unsure when he first steps into the room, but that clears away soon enough when Kent beckons Raylan forward with a “Hey, buddy”.

“Daddy!” Raylan excited tone is a bit quieter than normal; Whiskey assumes Bob or Alicia must have told him a little bit of what was going on, that Kent was injured and he needed to be quiet. “I got to sleep over at Gramma and Gramps’ house and they gave me pancakes for breakfast, but then we had to go see you in the hospital! Why are you in the hospital, Daddy?”

Kent’s smiling at his son, but his eyes turn to confusion about a third of the way through Raylan’s greeting, and flicker towards Whiskey, completely lost.

“Hey, Ray Ray,” Whiskey steps in, pulling his kid back into his lap so he’ll look at him. “Your dad’s hurt his head, and so you’re going to have to talk really slow for him for a bit, okay?”

Raylan nods his head and whispers, “Oh, okay!”

Kent laughs and reaches over to mess up Raylan’s hair. “Slow. Not quiet.” Whiskey can tell Kent’s putting a lot of effort to sound as normal as possible in front of everyone.

“What happened to your head?” Raylan’s still whispering, but he seems to be talking slow enough for Kent to process.

Kent looks over Raylan’s head to meet Whiskey’s eyes. “He didn’t- see?”

Whiskey shakes his head. “It happened pretty late in the 3rd.”

Kent frowns. “Don’t remember.”

“Why not?” Raylan squirms out of Whiskey’s lap and starts up onto Kent’s.

“Because he got hurt, Raylan,” Whiskey says. “It’s hard for him to remember things and say things right now.”

Raylan gasps. “You don’t remember? Do you still know my favourite colour? You gotta!”

Kent looks at Raylan, before his eyes flick over to Whiskey and back.

“One more time, buddy,” Whiskey says gently.

“My favourite colour, Daddy!”

Kent smiled and made an exaggerated thinking face. “…Blue?”

“Yaay!” Raylan cheers, sticks his arms in the air, and then flops down on the bed beside his dad. Kent winces- either from the loud noise or the jostling- but pulls his son close, into a tight hug.

I'm bored and want validation, should I post a snippet of my unfinished writing I'm working on and will probably never finish 🤔