non athletic

On History and Pie

Summary:  A nonathletic!Jack ficlet, where grad student and history nerd, Jack Zimmermann meets the cute Samwell student/baker Eric Bittle at the Bread and Butter Bakery.  Will the two make a love connection?  For @devereauxsdisease and @victorineb who love this incarnation of Jack as much as I do.

Originally posted by butteryplanet

They’d chatted at the bakery enough times that Bitty was able to pull the information from Jack. He’d started coming to the bakery about four weeks ago, and during that time Bitty became more and more charmed with the second year grad student.

He always sat in the corner armchair, ordered a black coffee, two macarons and a slice of whatever the pie of the day was. Bitty first noticed him when he came in to order a slice of Weary Willie cake.

Bitty loved his job at the bakery, it gave him some extra cash while he attended Samwell. Whenever Bitty was there, he was the de facto person in charge. Shirley and Spencer, the owners of Bread and Butter adored Bitty.

“We never had any kids of our own, so you’re the closest thing to it, Bitty,” Shirley said to him one evening over a cup of earl grey tea.

So Bitty stood there, face to face with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen the first time Jack walked in. The Clark Kent glasses in front of them did nothing to hide the fact that they were beautiful. It was a good face, a handsome face. He was burly and tall, and Bitty loved that. He smiled, and Bitty’s body language invited Blue Eyes to speak.

“Can I get a slice of the Weary Willie cake?”

“Sure can, handsome,” Bitty said as he began to ring up Blue Eyes’ order, who blushed furiously. “What else can I do you for?”

“Coffee. Black. Medium, please,” he replied looking down at the counter.

“Why don’t you go find yourself a seat and I’ll bring it out to you,” Bitty said with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” Blue Eyes said softly and then turned to walk toward the corner armchair.

When Bitty approached, Blue Eyes had pulled out a laptop and several textbooks, the one on top of the pile was called Foundations of Modern European Intellectual History.

“Doing a little light reading, huh?” Bitty said as he put the cake and coffee on the side table.

“Oh, haha. Yes.”

“Do you go to Samwell?”

“I’m finishing up my masters in history there,” he said as he held up his book.

“That’s great. I haven’t seen you here before,” Bitty said wanting to know more about History Blue Eyes.

“I saw the chalkboard outside listing the Weary Willie cake and the history nerd in me became curious.”

“Look at you! You certainly are a history major.”

“Did you make the cake?” Jack asked raising his eyebrows.

“Sure did. My moomaw had the recipe from her mama.”

“Well, it’s not often I find a somewhat obscure historical reference on my way back to the history building.”

Keep reading

Bully me, the crippled teammate? You done goofed...

Obligatory didn’t happen recently, happened about 10years ago here.

Back in my public school days, starting in 1st grade(I was a big kid), I played tackle football. I kept with it for 8 years, despite hating most of my teammates.

One year, just before our schedule took off, I fully broke both bones in my arm. This left me in a rigid cast that went all the way to my shoulder, thus I was useless on the field and became the team ‘manager’. This meant filling the water tanks, washing uniforms, inflating footballs etc. (It also meant days off school for games, and other silly benefits).

I mentioned I hated my teammates. Up to this point, the only reason was because the way they treated my non-athletic friends. One night, while at our towns highschool football game, I added another reason to that list.

One teammate, we’ll call him DeWaytoodumb(DTD), decided it would be a great idea to come up behind me while I was watching the game and pull down my pants, push me over, then proceed to grab my feet and drag my (now bare) ass around for a solid minute.

(Having my dominant arm out of commission and the lack of footing meant I had zero way to defend myself. DTD was a class-a asshole of the worst public school caliber.)

Well DTD got bored eventually, and let me go and went off laughing with a couple of other teammates of mine. I got up, and pulled myself back together, despite my now bleeding ass cheeks and crushed ego and walked home. I then began plotting my revenge.

The next Monday, I had to wash the uniforms. Everyone’s gear was labeled, so I found DTD’s gear and took it to the bathroom. I proceeded to take a shit, then wipe my ass with his pants, lining up my crack where his would go. I then threw them in with the other gear, only I didn’t add much bleach. Post-dry, I also added some itch powder that I had from an old magic kit to his gear, as well as the other teammates that just stood and watched him that night.

I waited for practice, super anxious and semi-regretting my decision.

Well practice comes, and I am on the field filling waters with the assistant coaches when the entire offensive line, including DTD, makes a bee-line for me.

“Hey smokeyDaBandito, you need to do your job, the real players shouldnt have to do the maid’s job” (proceeds to show his backside with an larger-than-planned brown stain)

(I had rehearsed this) “Hey DTD, you need to learn to use toilet paper. Even bleach couldn’t remove your skidmarks”

Man that felt good, especially since his little posse and the coaches couldn’t contain their laughter. DTD just mumbled something and walked off. Part 2 hadn’t even started yet.

About 20min into practice, most of the offence has begun to feverishly scratch their asses and balls from the itch powder that has been jostled enough. I couldn’t help it, and I started laughing. DTD put 2 and 2 together and realized what I had done and begins running at me shouting obscenities.

The head coach intervenes. He pulls the 2 of us aside and I admit to the powder prank. Coach looks pissed, and DTD is pretty smug until Coach asks me why. I told the whole story, leaving out too much detail on the injury to my hind end.

Practice ended at its normal time and myself, coach, and all of my teammates that were involved were told to stay behind. Coach goes into this lecture about brotherhood and respect for a solid 5 minutes, then tells the others to run 2 miles in full gear.

When DTD finished his miles, coach calls him over and kicks him off the team.

Holy sh*t that felt awesome.


Nickel Ashmead, Usain Bolt, Asafa Powell & Yohan Blake win Gold in the Mens 4x100m Athletics Relay. It is Jamaica’s 3rd consecutive Olympic Gold in this event.

Usain Bolt did the “triple triple”, winning the 100m, 200m and 4x100m relay at 3 Olympics Games (Beijing 2008, London 2012, and now Rio 2016). This gives him a total of 9 Olympic Gold medals, placing him equal-second behind Michael Phelps as the most-awarded Gold medalist ever.

anonymous asked:

What I find funny about that 'her star is rising' comment is the fact that people still believe that Renee - a lazy woman who admits to being non-athletic and drinks like a fish - has any sort of in-ring ability.


temperamental-snake  asked:

kabedon (I wasn't going to do it, but you said "it'd be funny if you're shorter than 6 feet" so I took that as a challenge) ;3

Kabedon! Pinned Against a Wall - Still Accepting!



Usually anyone short trying to pin back the 6-foot-exact, lengthy Flower Arrangement President wouldn’t be nearly intimidating to her. 

Most short people weren’t her Direct Non-Athletic Superior, Nonon Jazukure.

…Though, admittedly, gazing down nearly two whole feet upon the tinier pinkette was helping to ease the flower girl’s woes. If only a little. Only left with an important question: What was this about? 

“…CCan I help you, Miss Nonon?” Mio questioned calmly, despite nervous anxiety creeping.

Non- musicians, athletes, dancers and artists, please read this

After getting this question countless time and knowing countless other people who have had the uncomfortable experience of being asked as well, I thought I might tell you guys about it.

This question is a question musicians, athletes, dancers and artists often get, and it’s a question many of us dread.

The worst question you can ask us is: “And are you good?” when we tell you that we are in music, dancing, sports etc. 

In your mind, this probably sounds like a simple, innocent question, but it isn’t, the answer to it is extremely complicated and it’s very hard for us to answer it in one sentence. What do you want us to say?
“Yes, I am so great, I’m like a prodigy”?
It’s such a stupid question, please do not ask us this.
Instead ask us, how far have you gotten, what level are you on, something like that.

Musicians, dancers, artists, athletes everywhere.