my only real loves

6

A subtle reminder that Rob is the father in real life [for added effect]

anonymous asked:

I would read the crap out of your bitty in the NHL fic

(anon is referring to these tags:  #b r a h#i have a solid 2k of backstory for how bitty could have started hockey earlier and been good enough to sign with the NHL after graduating#it involves bitty’s aunt connie john johnson’s mother and the edmonton oilers#idk if i’ll ever post it because i’m only done the outline of the fic#(thats just the 2k prologue lol) from this post

ME TOO!! I want to read it so bad, I just don’t…. want.. to write… it…… 

This is the summary though! 

Eric Bittle expected his first year in the NHL to be difficult. He expected the long road trips, the aggressive checks, the constant fatigue, the rampant homophobia lurking under the surface of a culture that put traditional masculinity on a pedestal. Less expected is the balancing act that is his social life. Putting up with a surly captain while keeping in contact with friends from college and slowly falling for an anonymous guy he met on tinder were not a part of Bitty’s contract with the Providence Falconers.

Yes, Jack is the guy he met on tinder. No, neither of them know that. 

I really want it to be a multi media story so it includes tumblr posts, newspaper headlines, text messages etc. for example, from chapter 3:

Tumblr post. fyeahjarse: Did you hear about Zimms helping Eric Bittle?? They’re doing extra morning practices together??? Look at my son helping my other son, what a good captain. -> reblogged and someone adds doodles of them as falcons a la the penguin artist on irl hockey tumblr (ninja omelet) 

Always

For @ransomweek - March 28: “Remember that time…”

warnings: senior year nostalgia, oblivious pining, excessively soft bromance


“Okay,” Lardo said, taking another swig from the bottle of gin they’d been passing around. “Worst class you’ve ever taken?”

The noise of another kegster, not their last together but frighteningly close to it, thrummed through the floor of the attic. Sometime after midnight Nursey and Chowder had started trying to go through various Haus rules, proper kegstand procedure and ratios for tub juice, with the Tadpoles like Holster and Ransom had done for the past two years, and Ransom had found himself hit with senior-year nostalgia again. It was the kind of weird, happy-sad ache that pulled from under his ribs and made him want to hold onto everything tighter.

He was going to graduate in May. He’d been accepted to med programs at Emory and UPenn, and he was waiting to hear back from a couple other schools. His future wasn’t some nebulous concept any more; it felt real. It felt too close. It was so much easier just to melt back against his bed, next to his two best friends, and to soak up the way their words seemed to roll around the room and fill it up completely.

Holster snorted and leaned against Ransom, reaching around him for the bottle but not moving away once he had it. “International Finance Theory with Professor Lawrence.”

Keep reading

5

There is something in the air between you and your friend..

Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Love

A Highschool AU SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Admittedly, it might not be entirely truthful to say that Baz joined Vocal Jazz because he loved singing.  This is not to say that he didn’t love singing, it just wasn’t something that he tended to broadcast. And yes, Vocal Jazz was a good way of coming out of his shell, breaking past that barrier of shyness when it came to his own voice, plus maybe making some friends.

           However, let’s just say that Baz might not have auditioned if it weren’t for the blonde-haired blue-eyed tenor.

           And maybe he didn’t get up for those early morning practices before class purely because he loved singing, but because he loved something else.  Someone else.

***           

Baz was more than a little disappointed when the group was split into two for the Valentine’s Day Musical Candy Gram event.  Granted, some might find it a little overwhelming to have ten people singing at them in front of the class, but couldn’t he at least have been put in Simon’s group?

           No, because the ensemble only had two basses and two tenors.  Both groups needed one of each, and Simon couldn’t miss third class.

           So Baz was left to swallow his disappointment as he followed his group down the halls of Watford High, singing excerpts of Beatles songs at poor unsuspecting students.  Objectively, it was a cute little setup.  They would barge into a classroom with the chorus of “She Loves You”.  Then Trixie, one of the sopranos, would call out the names of any “lucky” students, who would then have to make their embarrassing way to the front of the room to accept a flower or a card or both from Trixie and be serenaded with “8 Days A Week”.  All in all, not horrible.  Objectively. Baz was just glad he wasn’t on the subjective side of things.

           After fourth period, which he spent both quietly chuckling at the sound of his choir mates in nearby classrooms, and also praying they wouldn’t burst into his classroom or, heaven forbid, bestow a Musical Candy Gram upon him, Baz returned to the empty music room for his coat, which he had left there when the group had met at lunch.  As he buttoned up the coat, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit melancholy.  He hated to admit it to himself, but while singing was great, it was nothing compared to singing with Simon.  Because when he was singing with Simon it made “I’ll Be Seeing You”, their competition piece, feel different.  He wasn’t just singing words; it was more of an outlet.  Like pouring his bottled-up feelings down a drain.  They weren’t going to Simon, but at least they were going somewhere.

           “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

           Baz’s heart sank when all nine of his choir mates filed into the room, singing and snapping their fingers, this time directing their song at him, but he had to smile a little.

           “Really?” he smirked as Trixie came forward to hand him a single rose with a card attached by a ribbon.  “Is this all necessary?”  In response, they burst into “8 Days A Week”, beaming at him like he’d won some sort of prize.  It was mortifying, but it was almost nice.

Baz snuck a glance at Simon, who was singing through a grin, and even though he knew he was probably blushing, Baz held his gaze for a few more seconds, saving the sight to replay later.

“Alright, who’s it from then?” he demanded when the others had finally finished singing.  “There’s no name on the card.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer!” squealed Trixie, but nobody had an answer for him.  Baz didn’t miss the smirk that twisted Simon’s mouth though, or how smug the boy looked when he left the room.

 ***

“You know, don’t you?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but Baz saw his mouth twitch.  “Know what?”

“Who sent me the card and the flower yesterday.” Baz tried to sound indifferent as he trawled through the philosophy section of the library.  “I could see it on your face.”

Simon pulled a book on Aristotle off the shelf, not looking at Baz.  “It’s possible,” he drawled.  “After all, you are my best friend, I ought to know who has a crush on you.”

“What you ought to do is tell me, best friend.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Simon turned to him giggling.  “If I tell you who sent the Valentine, it would be breaking confidence.” He solemnly put one hand over his heart and one in the air by his head.  “I am under oath.”

“Under oath to whom?”

“The person who sent it, of course.”

Baz shot a look at him.  “So you’ve talked to them about it?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re being annoyingly cryptic.”

“Do you have any suspicions?”

Of course Baz had thought about it all day yesterday after school, but his mind had kept wandering back to what Baz wanted.  Because there was only one person he wanted to be behind the Valentine.

And if Baz was being honest with himself, it Simon hadn’t sent it, Baz didn’t want it.

He just shrugged.  “No one I can think of really makes sense.”

“Most love doesn’t make sense,” Simon murmured in reply, so softly that Baz thought maybe it wasn’t for him to hear.  Granted they were in a library, but still.

“Would you tell me if I guessed correctly?”

“No guarantees, but you have permission to interrogate me.  Ask away.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Hopefully a boy.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?”

“Well, in theory,” Simon stammered, “whoever sent it cares about you enough to know that you’re gay, and if it were a girl, hopefully she would respect you enough to know better than to send you a Valentine.”

Baz had to admit he had a point.  “So basically what you’re saying is that it was a boy?”

Simon smiled.  “If that’s what you think.”

A thought occurred to him.  “It wasn’t Agatha, was it?  Just to get that off the table?”

“No it was not,” Simon admitted, “that would be a bit weird.”

“Especially since she’s still carrying a torch for you,” Baz snorted, maybe a little louder than was appropriate in a library.  Simon gave a wry smile that Baz couldn’t quite interpret.

“It wasn’t her,” Simon assured him, “guess again.”

Baz was honestly stumped.  There just wasn’t anyone else who seemed even the least bit interested in him.  He had thought that maybe Dev had had feelings for him a few years earlier, but now Dev was happily involved with his girlfriend, which eliminated that possibility.

“Really?” Simon smirked.  “No one?”

“There just isn’t anyone who shows any signs of liking me like that,” Baz shrugged.

“You might be surprised at the number of people who would gladly date you.  I mean, you’re certainly not hard to look at.”

Baz shot a surprised glance at Simon, who was apparently very interested in a chapter about nihilism.  Did he just…

“Is there anyone you want it to be from?” Simon asked quickly, like he didn’t want Baz to question him further.

You.

“Yes.”

Simon looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a little bit painted, and looked back down quickly.  “You should ask them,” he said in an overly cheery voice, “you could get lucky.”

“There’s no point,” Baz shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no way it was them,” he chuckled sadly, “absolutely no way.”

Simon shrugged without looking at him.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  If you never know who it was, you can just imagine that it was who you wanted it to be, and the person can just imagine that you like them back.”

Baz didn’t have an answer for that.  It sounded like an easy solution, to just let the whole thing fade away and imagine that Simon had picked out the rose with care, that he had skirted around Baz when the group prepared all the Candy Grams so that Baz wouldn’t find his own name among the Valentines. That he had done something silly like kiss the card before tying it to the bloom.

But it was too good to be true, and Baz knew it. He would never stop wondering if he didn’t find out for sure.

So he steeled himself and forced the words out of his mouth: “Was it you?”

Simon looked up at him with practiced innocence, but his eyes betrayed a touch of fear.  “Why would you think that?”

“I just had to ask,” Baz floundered, hoping he hadn’t gone as scarlet as he felt.  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“… No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it’s not a ‘no’.”

Baz’s brain was going at a thousand miles per second, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend what Simon was saying. “Oh,” was his scholarly response. “So that means…”

Simon stared straight ahead into the bookcase. “I sent it.  You got me.”

“Why?”

Simon finally turned to look at him.  “Why?  Gee, I don’t know, Baz!”  He was whispering, but with so much force that it felt to Baz like he was shouting. “Maybe because in all the years we’ve been friends you have astounded me and I only just made sense of it all! Maybe because you’re brilliant and gentle and so goddamn beautiful and when you sing I never want you to stop, and even if you never found out who sent you the stupid flower or if you didn’t care, at least I would have tried to tell you how much I like you, at least I would have -”

The next sound he made was one of shock as Baz’s mouth covered his own.

The sound after that was one of oh god, finally because Baz had him backed against the philanthropy section and was tangling his fingers in Simon’s curls, burying his lips in heat and need and oh, this is what all the hype is about and it was a million times better than Simon could have hoped for.

“Under oath to whom, again?” Baz teased against Simon’s lips, and Simon laughed lightly as he snaked his arms around Baz’s neck, already desperate for more.

“You got me,” he whispered, reaching up for Baz’s mouth again, and Baz couldn’t help but grin as Simon pulled him down to meet him.  Baz angled his head and deepened the kiss, a low sigh escaping his throat.  In the back of his head he remembered the rose and the card, and took to moment to appreciate the fact that he wouldn’t be throwing them away after all before setting up a long, slow rhythm against Simon’s mouth like they had all the time in the world.

3

books read in 2017 (3/??) | Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman

The light of my eyes, I said, light of my eyes, light of the world, that’s what you are, light of my life.

more gems from the official kh CoM novel:

I wonder if I really will meet someone from my memories in this castle… I want to meet—Sora. More than Kairi, more than anything, I want to see Sora. I want to see him—and apologize.

….hmmmm

As long as I was with Sora, I could go anywhere. That’s what I thought. 

…..HMMMMMM

“Kairi, wait here in front of the door. I’ll go get Sora!”

“Wait, Riku!”

I broke into a run, ignoring Kairi’s voice. It was because I had to go get Sora.

Sora! Sora! Sora! We can get outside of this world!

O___O

At that moment, I didn’t even notice what was happening around me. I didn’t even look. Sora, at the end of my outstretched hand, was so much more important than everything else.

PLEASE! 

I hate how Sora tramples on my heart unaware. It doesn’t mean I hate Sora himself—but to me, who will never be as gentle and honest as he is, I get jealous, I can’t stand it…

*SIGH* i’m out

I’m back from my trip and thanks so much for the headcanons/etc I got! I’ll post them real soon! ♥

yesterday was national sibling day

10

Happy Birthday “Snake”!!

pxelsong  asked:

i always thought Sandy stood for Sandra ohmygod

heheh it’s okay!! A lot of people think that!! ❤️ I picked the URL Sandy-Sims because I liked the alliteration and originally it was supposed to be sandy, as in a sandy beach not the name 😊 but really quickly people started calling me Sandy and it just stuck 😊 even a lot of my friends irl call me Sandy now, it just works: I think it suits me a lot more than Chloè!! hehe!! And everyone on here calls me Sandy, even my closest friends who already knew my real name 😊

Ooo, I’ve also already decided that if I ever write anything worth publishing, it will be under the pen name Sandy Sims 😉😉

Maybe you’re thinking about me right now, as I’m thinking about you. And maybe you’re missing me, as I’m missing you. And maybe you’re wishing for the days to pass so you can see me again, as I am.
I know we can’t talk, but if I could tell you anything for sweet dreams, that would be that I love you, I love you so much. And don’t worry. I know you’ve been waiting for a long time, but if you are a little more patient, things will be ok. You’ll see. Love will win in the end. Love will find a way. Love always does.
— 

moonstone-girl

To the one I love, 66 days left

  • Saeran: (closes eyes and tries to chill for 5 whole seconds)
  • Saeran: I cannot.
Time = ________

Building everything takes time
Unlike this short cryptical rhyme,
It was snappy.

I’d like to have much more time
Without having to say so in rhyme,
To be sappy.

Does your watch have the time
To tell my heart’s rhyme?
I’d be happy.

Where goes all this time
To change my actions and rhyme,
Dear chappy?