this was… in it’s own way.. a hard fic to read (which makes it the best fic to read! pain! i love it! help me!) it’s very very very beautifully written and i hold it very close to my heart….how it portrays jack by himself and how hard it must’ve been…it also manages to weave in how mental illness plays its own role, even once you get together with the person you’re pretty sure is it for you. somewhat painful but cathartic and achingly tender.
BUT then there’s feelings! and angst! and misunderstanding! (the best type too! u know when one is like so crazily in love with the other and thinks its shockingly obvious but surprise, it’s not!) it’s just fantastic!
imagine a world where jack jumping over the snowbank, bringing bitty coffee, going on long walks classifies (in jack’s mind) as dating. so when bitty gets asked out, jack cannot believe the b e t r ay a l! we’re dating bitty! just read this and be happy :)
considering how popular this fic is it actually sat open in a tab for a looong loooooong time just bc…well… it’s 285,748 words. im an all or nothing girl as in i once read the entire maze runner trilogy in one night so i had to find the right time
first of all: angst. second of all: angst. third of all: ….. u guessed it… angst. BUT don’t worry, for every drop of angst there’s a metro-fucking-ton of smut and sweetness :)))) ;))) what this fic does brilliantly is create an OMC that is at the forefront of the story and do it seamlessly. this is a pretty iconic fic and tbh im definitely not one for fics longer than 100k but this was a fuckin’ beaut man
oh god this was P A I N F U L but in a very beautiful way??? (that’s how u know the writing was siCK) ambiguously happy ending but tbh in the end this fic is really just abt the unspoken quiet truth of being in love, of loving, of being human just lke Fffffffuck me up
not usually a big fan of soulmate aus but what i love about this fic is the pacing and even tho soulmate aus where seeing your soulmate = seeing color for the first time isn’t totally new this felt super fresh and original!
aw MAN this gave me the feeeeeels. established relationship but jack is not out, it’s a bit angsty but the jack perspective is just so gooood
EXTRA: It all started with a big Russian hockey player calling a small cat-loving hockey player a rat. You either h8 it or u luv it. In my case, I Love it, capital L, so enjoy: Alexei “Tater” Mashkov/Kent Parson
Kent has been telling himself a story, ever since the Q. It’s the epic story of Parse and Zimms, and he’s in love with it. // this fic is specifically meant for patater newbies and this fic does an amazing job of showing why kent and alexei just make sense. its honestly a Blessing.
lmao im gonna be 90 years old and still reccing Febricant’s fics…for real when i saw they wrote patater i was like…no..im dreaMing…or im dead? is . is heaven?? rlly unique approach to how she gets them together and gr8 build up :)))) Bless Febricant
The freeze had come literally overnight. On January 5th, temperatures plummeted. This was not a normal cold snap. The entire continent, from Russia to Italy to England, froze overnight. And the cold stayed. The Baltic Sea froze for four straight months. But the Adriatic Sea – between Italy and Greece – froze solid too. Ships that got stuck in the ice saw their whole crew starve and die before the ships were freed. In London, the “Great Frost” iced over the Thames. Almost all the rivers in the north and center of Europe froze, in fact.
Food became scarce quickly, not just due to animals freezing in their pens. Bread literally froze solid. Wine and beer, too. Only hard liquors such as vodka, whiskey, and rum remained liquid. There are stories about how wolves roamed freely in villages, looking for anything left to eat. And sometimes what they ate were the villagers who had simply frozen to death.
I bit down harshly on my bottom lip as the drop of sweat that had been lingering on my hairline, had finally decided to descend down my face. Talk about timing!
The crew were gathered on one side of the door, ready to knock it down and barge into the apartment we had been tracking for several weeks. This was it. This is what we had all worked for. The red dots from our guns all focused on the centre of the wooden door, none of us really knowing what we hoped would be on the other side. Some of us enjoyed the violence, whereas others prefered to find the main goal whether that’d be money or a dangerous, illegal substance. Anything that meant the job was done right.
HE’S THE LEADER 🎖 OF THE BUNCH🐵🐵🐵🐵🐵 YOU KNOW HIM WELL 🐒😍💦 HE’S 😩 FINALLY 😩 BACK TO KISS 😘👄 SOME TAIL 🙈 HIS COCK-ONUT GUN 🍆🍆🍆🔫🔫🔫 FIRES 🔥🔥IN 💦SQUIRTS💦 👀 IF HE SHOOTS YA 😱😱🔫🐒 ITS GONNA HURT 😩😩 HES BIGGER 😍🍆 FASTER 😩👌🏻 DADDIER TOO 😍😍😍 HES THE FIRST 🍆MEMBER 🍆 OF THE D(IC)K CREW 🍆💦😍
Jack skates through the crowd of his teammates who are currently mobbing the small blonde freshman who brought pie of all things into his practice. He’s kind of intending to ask the kid what the hell he thinks he’s doing feeding these guys before they have to go run drills, anyway. Like seriously, does he want a rink full of projectile-vomiting jocks? Cuz that’s an ugly scene that he does not want to explain to the ice crew. But he’s the captain, and so when guys on his team act like morons, Jack is always the one who has to go apologize on behalf of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team.
He’s more than ready to lay into the new guy, but when the crowd parts, and new guy looks up, he smiles this nervous little smile and says,
“Hi! I’m Eric -” and then everything goes black.
Coach Bittle got into the habit of always checking the janitor’s closet on his way out of the building every night. After what happened to Junior, he ended up just sort of gravitating there. The first time he’d had the urge to check inside, he’d ignored it and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, imagining a tiny freshman, plopped on a bucket and crying their eyes out. When the custodian showed up at 5, Coach was already waiting in his truck with a cup of coffee. Now he just gives in. Figures that as far as compulsive, guilty urges go, it’s not that bad. Only takes him another minute out of his way, and now he goes home and sleeps like a baby.
Luckily, depite making it part of his nightly routine for the past few years, nobody’s actually been locked in there. Well. Locked in. There were certainly a few encounters he interrupted. Those times he was delayed more than a minute having to make uncomfortable phone calls to parents.
The first and only time that Coach Bittle rescues someone from the janitor’s closet is actually not even during the school year, and he isn’t actually checking for anyone. He’d just come in to do some paperwork for preseason and spilled coffee on his desk, and when he goes to get the actually absorbent paper towels from the closet, he finds a very large, very confused man in full hockey gear.
“AHHHH!” They both scream and jolt back, Coach stumbling and catching himself on the drinking foundtain, the large hockey man, being not so lucky and still wearing skates, sits in a mop bucket. His only solace seems to be that it’s currently empty.
“What in the sam hell!?” Coach yells, regaining his footing. Hockey man flinches and his eyes dart around like a cornered racoon.
“Where am I?” he chokes out. “What’s - what’s going on?” He looks up and meets Coach’s eyes. Coach looks down at hockey man’s jersey. Samwell Men’s Hockey. And he is not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, so it takes only a few stunned seconds to realize that this must me Junior’s soulmate. Why else would one of his teammates have been catapulted down to Georgia?
“You’re in Madison, Georgia, son. Looks like you just met your soulmate.”
“My - but I - I was at practice?” Hockey man looks up at him, and from way down there, looking so goddamn confused, he finally looks young enough to be playing with Dicky’s team.
“And now you’re here. So what does that tell you?” Coach raises an eyebrow.
“That…I…met my soulmate?”
“Sounds about right. Also sounds like you probably need to be getting on your way back, don’t it?”
“Um, yes. That would be. I should. Um. Go.”
“Might want to start with taking off the skates first.”
“Oh, I. Yes.” Hockey man awkwardly lifts his legs one by one and scrunches up to untie his laces. Coach helps him pull the skates off, and then offers a hand up out of the bucket.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Jack Zimmermann,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Eric Bittle Senior,” Coach tells him, trying not to feel a little pleased when the boy’s face goes pale in recognition. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back where y’all belong.”
“But I - That’s Massachusetts.”
“I know what I said. Hussle, you’ve got another practice tomorrow mornin’ I bet.”
“Then we oughtta hope traffic’s on our side.”
Meanwhile, Bob Zimmermann nearly cuts his ear off shaving when he hears a loud thump followed by a sqeuak behind him. He turns to find a strange young man in a Samwell Men’s Hockey jersey sprawled across his bathroom floor, clutching a pecan pie to his chest.
“Chrisse!” He yells, razor clattering to the sink. He manages to catch his towel before it falls, luckily, but his yelling seems to have startled the poor kid even more. He’s shaking a little as he sets the pie down gently and sits up. The blades of his skates clink against the tile.
“I - Um - Oh dear, I am so sorry! I don’t - I don’t know what happened! I was at practice and then - I mean - I’ll just be going.”
“Non!” Bob rushes to assure the boy it’s fine, but when he steps forward, it startles him all over again. Clearing his throat, Bob steps back and switches to English. “I mean, there’s no need to apologize. I know why you’re here, I just - wasn’t expecting you at this particular moment.”
“You…were expecting me?”
“Well…not you exactly, but…the…concept? of you? Jack’s soulmate. We - His mother and I, we knew when he met them, they would show up here.”
“Oh…I…guess that makes sense?”
“I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I feel terribly underdressed.” The boy stares at him blankly until Bob cracks a smile. Then, he breaks out into loud pleals of laughter. His eyes are a warm brown and crinkle at the corners, his nose scrunches. He looks like such a happy person. Maybe happy enough that some of it will rub off on Jack.
Hockey boy stands up and shakes the hand that isn’t holding Bob’s towel up. “Eric Bittle, pleasure to meet you.”
“Bob Zimmermann, nice to meet you too.” Another good (although strange, very strange) sign: there isn’t a trace of recognition in the boy’s face at hearing the name “Bob Zimmermann”. Of course Jack’s soulmate would be the only hockey player alive who had no clue who the fuck his father is.
Eric hobbles out of the bathroom and sits against the wall in the hallway to take his skates off before making his way downstairs to the kitchen where Bob had said his wife Alicia was probably hanging out. Sure enough, when he found the (gorgeous. stunning. drool-worthy.) kitchen, there was a tall, blonde woman sitting cross-legged on one of the barstools, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other propping open a book.
“Hello,” he announces himself quietly. She’s still startled, though not nearly as much as her husband had been. When she turns and gets a look at him, she puts the coffee down and lets the pages of the book flop freely, unfolding herself from the seat.
“Hello. You must be…”
“Eric. Eric Bittle.”
“Right. And -”
“Jack’s soulmate. Yes ma’am, it would seem so.” He smiles timidly, and is most definitely not expecting to be enveloped in a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Zimmermann.”
“Well,” Alicia steps back and puts her hands on her hips, regarding Eric with a motherly smile. “Can I get you a cup of coffee while we wait for Bob?”
Jack and Coach switch drivers every state. Coach insists that each time, they take a photo in front of the Welcome sign. Jack snaps a few pictures on his phone when he’s in the passenger seat. When it’s his turn to drive, he tries to educate Coach on the finer points of hockey and the top NCAA teams, and Coach in turn tries to explain how the hell football works.
The Zimmermanns put Eric on a plane back to Massachusetts that night with his hockey gear stuffed in a duffel and wearing the least obviously early 2000s clothes they could find in Jack’s old dresser.
“We wish we could go with you,” Alicia tells him, seeming genuinely sad to be sending him off alone.
“But Jack probably wouldn’t appreciate…intruding. He likes to keep his life at school seperate from his life back home, you know?”
“Of course, don’t worry a bit. It was so nice meeting y’all.”
When the airport shuttle leaves Eric in front of his dorm, he’s exhausted from the trip and starting to stress out about seeing Jack. His soulmate. Who he’d barely seen in the first place, only a quick impression of tall and eyes before he’d been wormholed to Montreal. He thinks he has to be seeing things when he first catches sight of his father’s old blue truck pulled up against the curb.
He shakes himself and starts for the building, but from behind him, Coach’s voice calls,
“Dicky! Er- Eric!” Eric’s head spins a little with how fast he turns around. Because there’s no way. His dad hadn’t been able to get away from preseason long enough to drive Eric up to school in the first place. There’s no way he’s - But the there’s Jack, sliding out of the passenger seat. Because Coach had driven him. All the way from Georgia. Because he’s Eric’s soulmate. Coach is hand-delivering the love of Eric’s life and he just…cannot with this day anymore.
So he focuses on the one tiny part that he can wrap his travel-weary brain around. He walks up to Jack, who’s watching him raptly, eyes darting everywhere like he’s trying to make sure he memorizes everything before he disappears again, and says,
“I don’t think we managed to introduce ourselves properly last time.”
Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he
was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won
the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking
good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to
convince himself he is. He’s not, of course. Enter the Ice Crew.
When Dan Erikson is assigned to write an article about
Jack Zimmermann’s years in college, he thinks he knows what he’s getting
into. Then he meets Professor Simpson, Jack’s photography professor. [also known as: Good Guy Reporter Dan Erikson]
I just can’t let go of the fic idea where Geno takes all of the penalties because Sid is the penalty box attendant. Here is another version of it!
The first time it happens, Greg-the-penalty-box-attendant, says, “Sarah, my sitter just canceled, I have to fucking leave. I’m so sorry,” and Sarah-the-ice-crew-manager exclaims, “But you have the box tonight!”
Sidney, on his way to the locker room to talk to some of the guys before the game starts, happens to be walking by at this moment (slowly and on crutches), and can’t help but overhear. In his infinite wisdom—and suffering from a broken foot that’s been encased in a cast for too long already and is all the motivation he needs, really—Sidney offers, “I could do it?”
Sarah and Greg turn to stare at him as if he’s gone completely bonkers.
A bunch of thoughts on this kind of thing:The issue with the concept of “Ice Girls” is NOTHING to do with having women on the ice scraping it, running between period on-ice events, doing general fan/community promotional stuff, etc.
The issue with “Ice Girls” is the presentation of these girls in skimpy, unnecessary, impractical outfits that are there to present them not as a valued member/extension of the organization but rather as a little extra bit of sex appeal for the straight bros there watching hockey.
Replacing the Ice Girls with an “Ice Crew” in practical outfits (UnderArmor branded tracksuits in this case) isn’t “fixing” the fans’ issue with this when the Ice Crew is entirely male. This isn’t an all or nothing Ice Girls situation. It’s entirely possible to have a co-ed Ice Crew in these sorts of outfits.
I’m not sure what’s more laughable. The fact that Philly’s idea of fixing this solution involves the complete elimination of female ice crew members or San Jose’s idea of a co-ed ice crew with men in practical outfits and women in the sexualized outfits.
I want to see women on the ice. I want to see more of a female representation in the NHL. If this means having some women scrape ice, run games, wander around the concourse, so be it. The Ice Crew is part of the franchise, it’s an extension of the franchise into the community and the arena. I want to see female ice crew members bonding with little girls when they visit local schools, when a little girl goes to a game with her family. I want that, and that can be done with those female ice crew members wearing a zip-up jacket or wearing a jersey the same cut as the men (rather than those weird cropped messes. If they want the fitted women’s style, fine. Their freedom to choose!)
The “Look, you hate the concept of Ice Girls, we got rid of the Ice Girls.” isn’t the answer. “We got rid of the sexualization of Ice Girls” is the right answer.
My answer to the burning question: Where is Shitty?
7k, Jack and Shitty friendship centric, background Zimbits, canon compliant (as of year 3, comic 3)
Shitty, Year 3
Sometimes, Jack forgets that he and Shitty aren’t going back to Samwell. Because immediately after graduation, it seems that nothing has changed. Shitty is still blowing up the group chat with his thoughts on intersectional feminism and Jack is still getting chirped for not knowing how to send moving pictures (gifs, he thinks they are called gifs and there is some debate over the pronunciation that has Holster and Ransom at each other’s throats for a few days). No new frogs have been added in the months of June or July and it’s easy and familiar.
In their private text, Shitty is still sending him the titles of the textbooks he needs for his classes and ranting about how they are all by old white men and, there is a difference in that Jack doesn’t have any assigned textbooks to send back to Shitty but he still enjoys reading history books in his time off. So he sends Shitty those. Gets praised when he picks the ones not written by old white men.
Sometimes Jack has to remind himself. His practices with the Falconers are not just camps that he’s going to. His apartment in Providence is not temporary. He won’t be going back to the Haus. He won’t get to go to Samwell once August rolls around.
But, still, he and Bitty are skyping every night and he and Shitty are texting everyday (skyping about every third day) and it’s different, but not too different and he’s sad when he thinks of Samwell but also happier than he’s ever been in his life.
Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.
He’s not, of course.
Enter the Ice Crew.
AKA: The Ice Crew AU
i loved bitty in this. the relationship building between jack and bittle, and jack and the rest of SMH was really well done and developed.
1.) Frame Masters in Library and Information Science diploma and send to Mama, because she never understood the lack of sleep and abuse of caffeine, but she sent cookbooks and money for good chocolate, bless her. 2.) Throw away every last highlighted article, graded paper, and syllabus, because they are no longer needed, thank the sweet Lord. 3.) Promote the library’s new periodic reading series, because it wasn’t the capstone project for nothing. 4.) Harass Boston Bruins star Jack Zimmermann into taking a picture for @BPLWestEnd to promote the reading of his new children’s book, Jacky’s Bad Days. 5.) Do not ogle Boston Bruins star Jack Zimmermann’s ass. 6.) Fail step five. Repeatedly.
one of my first omgcp fics, and what really got me into the fandom! very well written with lovely character growth.
It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.
(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. What comes after is even harder.)
i love multimedia fics! this was particularly relevant and really well integrated to the fic itself. i enjoyed this fic a lot. it’s a heavy read, but so worth it, and it’s very very touching. the OC was really well done too.
Requested by anon: Hi! Can you write a one shot where you are a female hockey player and you meet for the first time and team up with Sidney Crosby in a photoshoot for a charity calendar? Thanks :) Pd: Sorry for my poor english
A/N: Hey! This was such a cute idea, I loved it. It is a little short, I want to apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy it. Your English is great, btw.
Word Count: 959
Warnings: Not really, maybe a slight hockey violence, but it is cute.
The metallic sound of a puck hitting the
crossbar is the sound that I hate the most, it means that you were close, but
it wasn’t good enough. I sighed and turn around, looking at how everyone is
working on setting the big studio lights and backgrounds for the photoshoot. I
wasn’t a big fan of pictures, but this time it is for a good cause, so I’ll
just suck it up and do it.
When Bob Martin had called me to ask if I
would pose for a charity calendar I didn’t even hesitate to say yes, but when
he told me that Sidney Crosby and I went into full fangirl mode until
yesterday, when the anxiousness kicked in. I have played for the Buffalo Beauts
for two years now and I have never been so nervous to meet anyone.
“Sidney should be here shortly” Bob tells
me, stepping on the slippery surface and struggling to get to the carpet set on
the middle of the ice for the crew.
“Alright” I mutter, skating on circles and
moving pucks around.
Bob starts snapping some pictures, checking
on the lighting and white balance and all photography things I don’t understand
when I hear the sound of blades on the ice. I look up and see Sidney Crosby in his
Pittsburgh Penguins uniform and carrying a helmet on his free hand. My helmet.
“Hello everyone” he greets the crew,
shaking everyone’s hand and taking the time to ask for names and thank them for
taking the time to help.
I look at my feet, moving them forward and
backwards without moving from my spot on the ice before Sidney turns around and
skates towards me.
“(y/n), it’s a pleasure to meet you” he
stretches his arm and take off my glove to shake his hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Sidney” I say,
trying to hold the fangirl inside from embarrassing myself too much.
“I’m gonna sound like a crazy fan, but the
goal you scored against the Riveters. That goal should be in the top 3 of this
season’s best hockey goals” he says and my face heats up “but don’t tell Phil
that I’ve said that or he will kill me”
“You watch the NWHL?” I ask in disbelief.
We have been trying to get recognition for years and having NHL players watch
our games would be a great start to make hockey a sport for both women and men
“It started as a guys’ night with Phil and
Geno, but the whole team is addicted by now” he tells me and I look at him,
clearly surprised “we all root for the Riveters, for obvious reasons”
“I’ll tell Amanda that you have said that
the next time I see her” I say and he nods.
“Okay guys, let’s get this done” Bob yells
at us and we turn to look at him “We are gonna do a few shoots on the ice and
then some in formal wear” he informs us.
We keep it professional at first, posing as
Bob tells us and getting some good basic pictures of us on the ice, handling
the puck or shooting at net… and then everything goes insane when Sidney decides
that it would be a great idea to get a picture of me falling and hooks his
stick on my skates, making me trip. And then it is just war, squirting each
other with the water bottles, slapping each other with the sticks and me trying
to check him against the boards and failing miserably.
“I’m sorry, honey. You are going to need to
gain at least fifty pounds and grow four inches to have a chance of checking
me” he chuckles.
Oh, he has awakened the beast. Don’t play
those games with me, Crosby, I think while I start to skate around, gaining
speed before charging against his body, making him fall on his side.
“I think that I have the cover of the
calendar” Bob looks at us laughing and turns the screen he has set up so we can
see the picture he has just taken.
“That is a badass picture” Sidney says,
still lying on the ice and I agree with him.
The lighting of the picture gives it a
dramatic effect; it actually looks like I’m hitting him as any male player
“Just don’t tell anyone that I needed to do
a couple laps before having enough speed to make him fall” I propose and
everyone burst into laughter.
“Alright, alright, we’ll keep that to
ourselves” Bob promises and Sidney pouts a little before getting on his feet
“now, you two go change while we move all of this to the improvised set”
We nod and skate out of the rink, each one
of us walking to our locker room to get change. It takes a while for me to get
ready, since I don’t only need to change my clothes but also put some makeup on
and fix my hair up a little. The dress is a bottle green velvet wrap up dress
with thin straps. It is slightly over the knee and paired with high heels makes
my legs look longer than they really are. I walk out of the locker room and
make my way to the set up Bob has improvised.
“Oh wow, someone cleans up nicely” Bob
yells at me and I give him a shy smile.
“Thank you” I whisper, walking towards
Sidney and standing by his side.
“You ok?” he asks, his voice low.
“I feel more comfortable wearing the pads,
uniform and skates than a dress and high heels” I confess, slightly
“Well, for what it is worth, you look
amazing wearing both”