fratty or not

Non-hockey Check Please fans… ya’ll kno the Sin Bin (fine buckets) is named after the penalty box in hockey right? Like it’s not just a casual choice? It’s the affectionate name for the penalty box? In hockey? Which is one of the central parts of this comic? The angry ice knife game whose fratty culture in central to the themes of said comic?

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Ladies and Gentlemen… thanks to an unending obsession with Hamilton the inimitable, original musical by Lin Manuel Miranda, a terrific glee for frat based puns (Let’s be real, who were the first bros of our nation, c’mon), and a true delight for nerdy historical accuracy…  

We give you the FRATTING FATHERS:

(From Left to Right) 

John Bae: Don’t judge me, I’ll judge you 

Tommy Jeff: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Frattiness

(Thomas) T-Paine: I’m gonna knock some COMMON SENSE into you, fool. 

James Mon-BRO: I put the MAN in Manifest Destiny 

Benjamin Dranklin: Drink or Die

Alexander SlamiltonI’m not throwing away my shot

General George Sloshington: If you need two parties, you’re doing it wrong.

John Hancock: Size DOES Matter. 

John Frat-dams: Your place or mine? My place is the White House. 

James Y. U. Mad-i-son?

… (more pics to come after tonight)

Frat Boy Pt 5

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Thanks so much for your patience guys.  Enjoy some fratty bratty harry with fratty niall and art student zayn ;)

The kiss stayed with you through to the morning, instantly awakening you with the thought of how his lips had felt heatedly pressed against yours - hungry, savory, soft.  He’d been gentle with you, but dominating.  Dominating in the most comforting of ways.  And as cheesy as it seemed to be, you had been putty in his strong, capable hands.  With cheeks flushed from drifting thoughts, you ghosted your hand where his once cupped your cheek and you could almost imagine it was his instead, but when your fingertips traveled to touch your lips, the tingle he’d left and the burn in your stomach he’d ignited was just out of reach.  And when your hand fell to touch your throat where he had pressed a luscious kiss, you felt the crusty trickle of blood that had caused him to retreat.  A frown befell your face and an onslaught of sensations took over as the memories from the alley came back to you full-force, the grubby hands pressing you against one’s bony chest, the glint of the sharp blade, the sickly sweet cologne and the moisture from his breath that had hit your neck.  There was a cold chill and you shivered even though just two minutes ago you’d woken up sweating under the blankets.  When you rolled over to see Renny’s bed empty there was a sudden slam in the bedroom that made you jump and your adrenaline skyrocketed as you froze beneath the sheets.  It was the blinds, only the blinds, you told yourself.  They’d just slammed against the window from a draft.  The beating of your heart was still pounding and your eyebrows knitted together as it hit you that you were very much alone.

She’d left for class already.  An obnoxiously bright orange note card was taped to the side of your desk and you stretched your arm as far as it could while staying buried beneath the protection of the covers.

I miss you :( TELL ME EVERYTHING WHEN I GET BACK

btw it’s back-to-school theme for the sorority party tonight so…prepare the slutty outfit and what you’re going to say to make me look good ;)

Your eyes shot to the clock and you froze.  It was 7:45.  When the shutters slammed against the window again and your heart dropped for the second time this morning, you knew you couldn’t stay here.  You may fail the stupid test and Harry may be annoyed that you didn’t stay, but you wouldn’t be able to sleep again.  As silly as it sounded you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if you checked under your bed and swept the closet five times over to make sure no one was there.  You felt so vulnerable alone, and your mind kept drifting to that night.

You wouldn’t be able to fight the memory.

You had fifteen minutes.

With no regard to yesterday’s makeup you threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, even though the clouds from yesterday were long gone.  You may be sweating on your way over to class, but you didn’t want the world to see you today.  You’d just thrown up your hood and the door was closing behind you when you froze- the blood.  It was still on your neck.  And with a sinking feeling in your gut, the thud of the closing door sealed your sentence.  You’d left your keys in the pocket of your sweats from last night and there was no way you could get back in to wash it off.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed, wiggling the doorknob to no avail.  You weren’t one to cuss, hardly ever, and you weren’t sure what you were hoping for in jiggling the locked door, but- fuck.

In a panicked fast-walk to class, you tried rubbing your neck to try and get the evidence to fade but all it left you with was irritated skin probably reddening from the burn you were creating.  People seemed to be staring at you more today as you picked up your fast walk to an awkward fast jog and as disgusting as it was, you licked your hand and started desperately rubbing again.  You winced a bit as you felt the sting from the cut, the slight injury reacting with the dampness in bristling rejection.

Your head was a dark cloud of anxiety, stress, and fear and when you burst through the doors of lecture hall with a minute to spare, your thoughts turned impossibly darker.

Harry was leant back looking effortlessly alluring in a snapback and partially unbuttoned flannel, with a girl stood between his legs.  His hands were casually gripping the edge of the extended table while her hip was popped out in the way that made her butt look bigger and her waist, smaller.  You knew that pose, you did it too.  She said something to him that caused him to smirk and he nodded his head with a shrug of his broad shoulders while she giggled in excitement.  The same shoulders that had been hovering over you, bare, just hours before…

The instant bitter spark of anger erupted and your natural reaction was outrage at this blatant betrayal, but then, you realized, what was he betraying?  The anger was no match for the larger flood of disappointment that followed not even two seconds after.  You thought he’d be worried about you, you realized.  After last night, you’d thought he’d stay the same warm, gentle person when the sun showed its face again.  You’d forgotten who he was.  What he was.   He wasn’t going to change, nor was he going to just flip a switch and become solely focused on you of all people because he’d stopped those men from taking advantage of you.  Any decent person would’ve done that.

Wasn’t that what your mother always told you when a check bounced?  Don’t fall in love with a man you think you can change, because no one will change fundamentally.  Unless, of course, he had money.  Then, she’d told you, it didn’t really matter if he changed or not because money could afford you all sorts of distractions.  Security first, love secondary.  You’d listened with open ears when your father wasn’t around, letting it come in one ear and out the other.  That was just your mother though.

She’d never read the love stories you had.

A part of you was reminded of Harry’s intensity, how each time his fist met the other man it had been so calculated and filled with unchecked rage.  Something was telling you that not any person would’ve done what Harry did.  That a person mentally couldn’t have done most of it.

For an irrational reason, anger struck up again.  Harry didn’t have to do any of it.

And he definitely didn’t need to spend the night.

But that’s why he’d honestly asked you to “tutor” him wasn’t it?  He’d gotten what he’d wanted, hadn’t he?  He’d gotten to kiss you and you’d given in.  His sweet words were just a cherry on top.  Blatantly meaningless as he continued to charm the girl who he clearly already had under his thumb.

You’d pushed the door harder than expected and it slammed shut, causing all heads to turn towards you.

Including his.

Including hers.

The make-out chick Harry had been with the night of the party was staring at you with crystal blue eyes, doing a once over at the weird hooded girl glaring at the entrance before turning back to look at Harry.  But he was still looking at you.

Harry’s brows immediately drew together and he gave an irritated shake of his head that screamed “what the fook are yeh doing here?”  It made your skin crawl how you could already picture his voice so perfectly in your head, and you hated knowing it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.  You only had the energy to fake a smile when the professor cheekily said “So nice of you to join us Y/N.”  The girl standing in front of Harry started walking away at his sudden disinterest and you almost wanted to comfort her, hell, you could make a lot of money off a Harry support group.  You’re sure many girls needed it after dealing with the ever-shifting enigma that is Harry Styles.

You heard Harry call your name as you passed him, but you ignored it, for once gracefully walking a little faster when you saw him unsuccessfully reach for you in the corner of your eye.  

Niall was the one who sat at the end of the aisle and reached a hand out to stop you before you could descend and get away.

“Hey, what’s wrong with your neck?”  His voice held traces of concern, but it was a question asked out of selfish curiosity.  

“Allergic reaction,” you lied.

“Yikes, you allergic t’a good make out then?” he teased before breaking out into a snicker at your furrowed brows.  He hadn’t.  He…he wouldn’t have -

You immediately looked to Harry and his eyes had darkened, all the proof you needed, and you hoped your death glare transferred through the sizzling line of energy that seemed to pop up whenever you looked at each other.  That cocky, bragging, arrogant son of a…

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