#if the caps do win the cup (very unlikely but very funny) i think the conn smythe should go to chuck but stromer is his main competitor

[dartducks]

Obviously the player I associate with you is 2024 Stanley Cup champion, Dylan Strome

Dare we even say, 2024 Conn Smythe winner Dylan Strome?

[mangoisms]

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter eight: you are beautiful like i’ve never seen | read chapter seven

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.6k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The first day of the four-day series between the Gotham Knights and the Metropolis Monarchs is soon upon you.

Like usual, Knights fans show up for their team. Even if they suck and have, on average, the worst win-loss record in the entire MLB, well. Gothamites take loyalty seriously. And you get it, anyway. Only you can say they suck miserably. Not the pretentious jerks who came down from Metropolis to jeer at the Knights. 

“They’re just jealous,” you say, sulkily biting into a pretzel, then offering it to Tim wordlessly as your eyes scan the packed stands. To your pleasure, despite the likely outcome of today’s game — and this series, the first one between the two teams finally taking place in Gotham — you see that those dressed in grey and blue, the Knights’ colors, outnumber those in Monarchs colors, which are white and red. 

He takes a bite, then, around a mouthful of pretzel, asks, “Why would they be jealous?”

“Metropolis got passed up to hold the All-Star game this summer. Which makes sense. They held it already a few years ago and Gotham’s never held it.”

“Sure.” Tim sips the absurdly large cup of Zesti, then offers you some. They were out of Soder, to your displeasure and his amusement. Still, you don’t say no, leaning over to wrap your mouth around the straw, your eyes still looking out at the field. With it being May, spring is in full-force and will soon be replaced with summer, though today, tendrils of it are already creeping in, humidity stifling you, along with the beaming heat of the sun. 

You’re in jean shorts and a Knights jersey, unbuttoned with a white camisole underneath, along with the Knights ballcap you bought last time, situated backwards over your hair. Finally, with a beat-up pair of Converse, you have a pair of black crew socks patterned with the Wonder Woman symbol. You are quite fond of her. All the Wonder ladies, really. Strong, beautiful women who can kick your ass to the moon and back — what more can anyone ask for? You’d said the same thing to Tim when he saw your socks and teased you about them. He found that very funny, though you aren’t totally sure why. 

The one in question is dressed in a maroon t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of surprisingly beat-up Vans, finished with the Gotham Knights cap you bought for him the last time you two were here. He wears his properly, though, unlike you, with the bill carefully hiding his face from any prying eyes. The air in the stadium is so charged with tension from the oncoming match, though, you doubt even if he took it off, no one would notice. 

“Bet you twenty the benches clear,” he says.

“That’s not even a question, Drake. Try better.”

“Alright… I say, the benches clear before the fourth inning.”

You squint thoughtfully, then nod. “I say after. You’re on.” 

The benches do clear after the fourth inning. But only in the ninth, both teams showing a, frankly, incredible amount of restraint despite the tense game that had them, shockingly enough, neck-and-neck. 

By the ninth inning, both teams were tied 4-4. But a grounder at the bottom of the inning allowed the player on third base to make it home, effectively breaking the tie. The stadium exploded into noise, the Knights themselves celebrating, too, and one thing led to another and then both teams were spilling onto the field, fists flying. 

Look, you aren’t saying the Monarchs are weaker because they’re from Metropolis. But the truth of the matter is, most of the Knights’ team is made up of Gotham natives and, well, this is Gotham. Can’t go around defenseless, not with the likes of the Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face and more. More than that, you just think, in general, as being a team often at the bottom of the barrel… they must be holding in a lot of anger. 

And by the blood you two see, that anger is coming out full-force. Not at all helped by the tension among fans, who cheer on their teams, of course, but then…

Tim’s hand tightens around yours warily as a Monarchs and Knights fan start yelling at each other near you.

“I think,” he murmurs, lips near your ear in a way that has your heart stuttering, “we should go before we get our asses kicked.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t protect me?”

“I don’t assume that you are a person who explicitly needs my protection. But if you ask…”

“Aw, no. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your pretty face.” Fists start flying. You pull your legs in as someone drops a cup of beer, feeling droplets of it against your skin. “Yeah. I think we should go.”

The two of you leave posthaste, along with a decent amount of people also trying to avoid trouble. 

“So,” Tim starts when the two of you are in the safety of his car, blue eyes twinkling with something like mischief. “Pretty, huh?”

You refuse to be embarrassed. It’s, like, a fact of life. Everyone knows this. The sky is blue, the grass is green, Tim Drake is ridiculously pretty. So pretty he practically reinvents the word every time you see him. God, you like him so much. 

“Yeah,” you sniff, crossing your arms. “So gimme my twenty bucks, pretty boy.”

Tim grins and gives you your twenty bucks and the two of you get the hell out of there. 

(“So, like, would you… want to go to the All-Star game?” he tries to ask you nonchalantly later that night.

“Tim.”

“Maybe I want to go to the All-Star game.”

“You don’t even like baseball.”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, knowing you caught him out, so, he ends up going for the kind of honesty that makes your breath catch. 

“Well, you do, so.”

You watch TV for a minute, trying to settle the raging feelings inside you.

“Alright… I’ll let you buy us tickets to it if you let me buy tickets to the Knights kickoff game when the season starts.”

“But you don’t like football.”

You give him a look that says Hello? Are you stupid? Because so what? He just said it. You like baseball, so he tolerates it. He likes football — or, well, the Knights — so you’d tolerate it, too.

He doesn’t get that, you think.

That you’d do anything for him.

But he can’t, for obvious reasons.

So, you’ll just have to remind him. 

And he understands, too, laughing. “Alright. Deal.”

You think he agrees so easily because the football season doesn’t start until September and it’s only the middle of May. 

But little does he know, you will in fact be saving up money for the tickets and you will be hunting Reddit forums for tips on seating and ticket dealers, thank you very much.)

(Also, the Knights manage to win the next game, and you say manage, because a handful of them were suspended for fighting, along with a handful from the Monarchs; but you suppose that evens the playing field.

They lose the two after, but no one really cares. It’s nice to be able to win a game. And also a little bit nice to have seen the fight that unfolded between the two.)

The nice thing about teaching social studies is that the state of New Jersey does not require an assessment test for it. The only tests they require, starting from third grade to ninth grade, are for the English Language Arts, Math, and Science — the New Jersey Student Learning Assessments, otherwise shortened to NJSLA and colloquially known as the SLA’s.

The SLA’s are taken in the spring semester, in the second to last week of school in June. While your fellow teacher aides and teachers scramble to prepare reviews and ensure the students are ready, you and Ms. C can, for the most part, kick back and relax. Final grades are due next week but you two have them ready, so you don’t have to stress about it.

Still, it’s not all great as you feel the usual guilt that comes with watching teachers and students alike fret over the tests. It is collectively known that the standardized tests aren’t indicative of anything at all and Gotham Pointe is the kind of school that wanted to move away from measuring knowledge with tests, but they are state mandated and so, unavoidable.

To that end, you and Ms. C agree to not make class stressful for any of the kids in the lead-up to the tests and you think you succeed for the most part. You get roped into proctoring for the eighth graders, who scare you much more than the sixth graders, and you’re pretty sure they could tell, too, so that’s just great… It’s easy work anyhow, if not boring and procedural. 

But soon, the SLA’s are taken and done with and you are about to enter the final week of the semester. 

The weekend calls for highs in the eighties and the familiar cloak of humidity that will only get heavier as you approach the height of the summer. Gotham has brutal winters that dry out your lips terribly and unforgiving summers that make you sweat from every pore you have. 

But with it being only the first weekend of June and spare cloud cover that gives the occasional break from the sun, the weather is pleasant. Pleasant enough for you to decide to brave your allergies and convince Tim to have a picnic at Robinson Park. Cleaned up directly following the earthquake by Lex Luthor and then again recently by Wayne Enterprises, it has become a nice place in the city to visit. As nice as it can get in Gotham, anyway.

The park takes up a fairly sizable swath of central Gotham, east of the Upper East Side and south of Coventry. Not as far as Otisburg, where the Knights Stadium is, which is part of the northernmost area of the city. (Well, the northernmost area is probably, to be accurate, Bristol, the neighborhood where Gotham’s wealthiest reside, but you digress.)

You and Tim occupy a small, quiet area on the south side of the park. A large tree and perfectly-cut shrubs hide you from the prying eyes of others. 

The park is bursting with greenery, a breath of fresh air — literally and figuratively. The healthy trees and shrubs and freshly-cut grass remind you that New Jersey is technically known as ‘the Garden State.’ Hard to remember when you’re downtown Gotham, standing among towering skyscrapers, brightly-lit screens, and smoggy skies, but here, it is a nice reminder. 

You say this idly to Tim as you two eat an early dinner — caprese sandwiches he made, with lemonade brought back from the manor, courtesy of one Alfred Pennyworth, and the freshest strawberries you have ever had the pleasure of looking at and eating. 

He nods at your words, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Ever since No Man’s Land, the park’s thrived. Nothing ever dies.”

“That’s not ominous at all. And… what about No Man’s Land?”

No Man’s Land, the cataclysmic earthquake that struck Gotham City several years ago — like when you were fifteen or something — that caused the death of millions and displaced even more. Though, you might say that is because of the US government’s response. Instead of continuing to fund rescue efforts and help, they abandoned Gotham, turned it into No Man’s Land. No longer part of the United States and those who stayed also exiled. Of course, many didn’t exactly have a choice…

The city has since been rebuilt, with all buildings built stronger — earthquake proofed. When it happened, the only buildings left standing were the ones owned and built by WE because Bruce Wayne specifically called for them to be earthquake-proof. He was also the last to leave, the last to fight in front of Congress. If not for the philanthropic efforts he does around the city, then for that, you have real respect for him. 

Tim shrugs, sipping his lemonade. “Apparently, Poison Ivy camped out here for the entirety of it. She left eventually when the city opened again but since, the park’s been healthy. Even during winter.”

“Huh,” you say. The conclusion is obvious, then, that she might have something to do with it. Well. You’ve heard she’s leaned more morally grey these days. Still wanted by the police and all but… you don’t know. It’s a nice notion, to keep some of the only greenery in the city healthy no matter the season. 

You’ve never frequented Robinson Park before now — again, allergies — but Tim often looks too pale for your liking and now that he isn’t working at WE, you are more inclined to get him out of Rose Oaks. Even at the risk of a stuffy nose and watery eyes that’ll bother you tomorrow. 

You finish your sandwich and lemonade, help yourself to more than a few strawberries, which are a delicious mix of sweet and tangy, then lay down, sprawling out on the blanket. Well. Not totally sprawling out. The sundress you wear doesn't allow for that. Yeah, you are wearing spandex underneath but still. It’s the principle. No one is allowed to get an eyeful under your dress. Other than maybe Tim. Definitely Tim.

The thought makes your face warm and you shove it away, distracting yourself with grabbing a napkin and digging through your tote bag for your makeup bag. 

You dab at your mouth and open your compact mirror, checking for any food that might’ve caught on the darkly-tinted lip balm you’re wearing. Looks fine, though it’s faded towards the center from eating.

Tim sits upright next to you, his body twisted toward you and one hand planted on the blanket as he leans back on it. His eyes are elsewhere as he lifts a strawberry to his lips. Your eye twitches as he bites into it and some of the juice dribbles down his hand and nearly out the corner of his mouth — you say nearly because his tongue darts out, catching the droplets before they can fall, and you’re pretty sure a meteor could hit Gotham right now and you would absolutely be none the wiser.

Doesn’t help when he lifts his hand to his mouth, either, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he catches the trails of strawberry juice. Pink lips move, shaping words, but you don’t notice, because this has to be a new circle of hell or something, you don’t give a shit what Dante thinks, this is the worst. 

With concerted effort, you turn your eyes to your compact mirror and dig for your lip balm. 

Forgetting that he had said something while you were staring at him and wondering why god was so cruel, you jump when his jean-clad knee brushes the outside of your thigh, the texture rough against the softer skin there. 

“Wh-huh?”

You look at him and he’s finally looking at you, the sunlight doing too much for him in the way it sets off his pale skin and his dark hair, his eyes a softer shade of blue than you’ve ever seen, like the sky in Metropolis, considerably less smoggy than Gotham’s. He’s cleaning his hands with a wet wipe — yes, he seriously brought wet wipes because he said ‘eating fruit is serious business’ — lips quirked as he gazes down at you.

“Did you hear me?”

“No. What did you say?”

“I said, do you know what that tree is?” he asks, nodding to the tree next to you, tall in height with faintly yellowed leaves.

You squint. “Should I…?”

“I guess not,” he says. “You’re more into social studies than science.”

You’re also not him, brain stuffed full with the oddest of facts. 

No one is like him. But this is thought with a ridiculous amount of fondness, as par the course. There is little he does that annoys you and info-dumping about some odd thing that grabbed his attention is not one of those things.

“So, you know, then?” you ask, lifting the lip balm to your mouth and reapplying it, a tad distracted as you keep an ear out for him.

“It's shagbark hickory. Carya ovata. Look at the trunk.”

You look at the tree trunk. 

“See how the bark is peeling and a little weird? That’s how you can tell.” 

“Kinda creepy, isn’t it?”

He exhales a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You turn your head, eyes scanning for another tree. You spot one some distance away, a pretty thing with white flowers blooming on the branches, reminding you vaguely of a cherry blossom.

“What about that one?” 

Silence meets your words. Your eyes flicker from the tree back to him. “Tim?”

Instead of looking at the tree you pointed out, he is looking at you. Not just at your face but your —

“Sorry,” he says quietly, lifting a hand to you. “You just have some lip balm right here…”

Just as he finishes speaking, his thumb slowly swipes the underside of your mouth, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb just barely catching the actual skin of your lips in a way that sparks a fire inside of you. 

There is no way for you to save face, you think dimly, and you know that to be utterly true as your eyes then find his thumb as he pulls back. On the pale skin, the smudge of your darkly-tinted lip balm stands out. 

You meet his eyes again in the next second and they seem a shade darker, more like the blue waters of Metropolis Harbor instead of their clear skies. It’s more than that, though, it’s the look in them, the weight of his gaze, like a physical thing, burning straight through you, and the urge to be close to him, to press your lips to his, is monumental, practically religious, like even that wouldn’t be enough, like the only way you might be satisfied is if you two were one, cells and atoms intermingling.

You want so much.

Too much that you can have.

The shriek of laughter from a child shatters the moment and he looks away quickly. Your heart pounds out of your chest, face unbearably hot. For him, too, red rises high in his cheeks, not doing anything to detract from your attraction. Exacerbating it, if anything. 

You raise your eyes to the sky, closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

Next to you, Tim clears his throat and suddenly flops down beside you with a grunt, arm brushing yours.

“White flowering dogwood.”

“Huh?” you ask, eyes opening as you glance at him. He’s looking up at the sky, allowing you a view of his sharp jawline, the slope of his nose, and the press of his full, pink lips. God…

“The tree,” he says, voice a little rough. “The one you asked about. It’s white flowering dogwood. Cornus florida. It can be pink, too, but, well, as you can tell, that one is white.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.”

You loathe the slight awkwardness that falls over you in that following silence. He seems to dislike it as well as he clears his throat. 

“You were right about this,” he says, voice back to normal, soft, soothing tenor, music to your ears. “It’s nice.”

“A little vitamin C does wonders for the mood. And complexion.” You pause. “Your complexion, to be clear —”

“Alright, alright,” he says, faintly amused. “I get it. I’m pale.”

The silence that unfolds in that next moment is considerably lighter, more comfortable. You force yourself to relax, crossing your ankles idly. 

“Any plans for the summer?” he asks after a couple minutes.

“Hmm, no, not really. Probably pick up a few more classes. Might visit my family.”

In the corner of your eye, he nods. “If you get any more of those offers to bring someone, count me in.”

“Yeah?” 

“Well…” he trails off and you turn your head as he moves, a hand digging through his bag. The sound of something crinkling, before he pulls out an object wrapped in wrapping paper, the same kind you use in class for finished products, that way they don’t break.

A grin pulls sharply at your lips as you take it from him. 

“It didn’t turn out so bad,” he says, a smile in his voice, though your eyes are on the mug, which you eagerly unwrap. 

You can’t help your gasp. “Tim…”

The mug the two of you shaped is no longer dull grey clay, soft and malleable, but hard and durable; you still hold it gingerly, smoothing your thumb over the now-smooth surface. Underlaid by a soft shade of blue, the mug is iridescent, glimmering green, blue, yellow, purple, and many more colors, almost like the surface of the water.

“I had to get some help,” he admits. “But I got the hang of it eventually. Despite this little… imperfection —” he reaches out to brush a finger over the lip of the mug, where it’s a bit wonky “— I think it turned out nice.”

“Told you,” you say, your matter-of-fact words belied by the soft wonder in your expression. “Perfection is a false ideal. And boring. This is beautiful, Timmy. Seriously. Thank you.”

“‘Course,” he says softly, a kind of warmth in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat.  

You look at the mug a little longer, taken at how it shines under the sun, then wrap it up again, passing it back to him. He puts it away. 

Warmed at the thought he put into the mug, you two sink into a truly comfortable silence, broken by the laughter of children nearby, the distant and usual wail of sirens, and the chirp of birds.

He hums thoughtfully. 

“What?”

“The birds.”

“Let me guess, you’re an expert in birds, too?” 

“Something like that,” he says softly. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

Multiple birds chirp in that following silence. Quick, repetitive.

You scrunch your face up. “Pretty sure I’ve heard this one, like, every morning.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Downy Woodpecker. Very common.”

You hum in acknowledgment, able to pick it out now that he’s put a name to it. The two of you lapse into silence again, a concentrated sort of energy coming from him as he focuses on something.

“Ah,” he murmurs, as another call joins. “Now this is a treat…”

“Share, share.”

“Any guesses?”

“Pigeon.”

He exhales a laugh. “Not even close.”

“Social studies. Not science. Or whatever that area could be classified as. Zoology?”

“Ornithology,” he says, because of course he knows the correct name, his arm brushing yours as he drops it to his side, like yours is. Fingers brush yours. You don’t pull away, allowing your pinky to skim his before his fingers slide against yours, filling the gaps. Your heart stutters as you let yourself bask in the contact, then attempt to focus on the bird call that just joined the Woodpeckers.

It’s not as repetitive or quick as the other one, calmer, in a sense.

“What is it?” you ask, voice unknowingly dropping into a whisper. 

Tim’s voice is just as low when he next speaks. “American Robin. Relatively common, too.”

His thumb rubs over your fingers right after, making your chest tighten with warmth, so all you can do is pinpoint the call of the Robin, that clear string of whistles the only sound in the silence. 

He is quiet for some time after, the both of you listening to the Robins and Woodpeckers sing. But eventually, he picks it up again, easily singling out bird calls and putting names to them.

You two spend several hours there, mostly dozing, but towards seven, you find yourself filled with perhaps too much sun and warmth, so he suggests something cold. You pack up and drop your things off in his car — you grimace at the grass clinging to the blanket and the way the blades of it catch on the material in the trunk but Tim waves a hand at it, unbothered, saying it’s not an issue. For him, with the ability to easily afford car washes and interior cleanings, you believe it. 

He pops by a Wawa’s to gas up while you search for nearby frozen treats but you get distracted by the attendant in the neon vest that quickly comes over to gas up the car. 

“This is why I could never get a car,” you say, watching the attendant punch the premium grade — at Tim’s request — then pull out the nozzle. “We didn’t have this so sometimes my parents made me fill up the car and I hated it. Something about it just makes me nervous. Like I know I’m pressing it for gasoline but I’m like… What if it did a little switchy-switchy and now I’m filling the tank with diesel and now it’s ruined and my dad’s going to kill me.”

Tim looks fondly amused. “So, shouldn’t the act of someone else doing it for you help?”

“No. Not even a little bit. Because yeah, I am nervous, but at least it’s me. We all grow up with different ways of doing this and I dunno. Besides,” you say, craning your neck to watch the attendant stand idly by the gas pump, numbers ticking rapidly as the tank fills up; the price makes you grimace. “This kind of feels like a safety risk, at least here in Gotham. What if they put in diesel?”

“Well, the good thing about that is they’re liable for it. So, I would think that makes it easier.”

You grunt. “I guess. I just think it’s a tricky thing, okay.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Have you found anything?”

“Just some fro-yo places.”

“Fro-yo’s cold.”

“Yeah, but it’s fro-yo. I don’t want discount diet ice cream, I want ice cream. The whole concept of fro-yo is questionable.”

Tim laughs. “Who knew you had such strong opinions on New Jersey’s self-servicing laws and frozen yogurt?”

You flush, because despite the tease, he looks fond, and that’s too much for you after everything today, so you grumble a little bit and turn your eyes back to your phone.

The two of you end up at an ice cream parlor in the Upper East Side. Tim gets mint chocolate chip ice cream, much to your horror. 

“That’s basically toothpaste. You might as well brush your teeth then eat some chocolate.”

“Okay, drama queen. Relax. Maybe if you tried some —” the red spoon waves under your nose as he gets in close and you turn your head, bracing a hand on his chest, though you aren’t trying that hard to push him away. You find yourself noting the muscle there, something you’ve noticed since the two of you slept together on the couch. Tim has a lithe frame but there is no shortage of power, evidenced in the way he can easily carry a large pack of water bottles without losing breath. You can carry it, but even you have your limits for how long, limits he easily surpasses, you suspect.

The car doors unlock as you near it, parallel parked perfectly (and he made it look easy, too, though you won’t give him much credit on the driving front since he’s a little too much for you) in front of the ice cream parlor. Tim had asked if you’d ever driven the scenic route up in Bristol, to which you responded of course you hadn’t. That’s all the way north of the city, off the interconnected islands entirely. Much too far for you, at least with your bike. So, he matter-of-factly said that’s what you two were going to do and maybe if you stuck around long enough, you could see the sunset from there. It sounds awfully romantic but you try not to think about that.

Instead, you redouble your efforts on teasing him as the two of you pause by the car.

“Bleh. I’m not going to ruin my taste buds with that. You should try this.” You scoop out some of your ice cream, lifting it to him. 

“Chocolate chip cookie dough. Revolutionary. You’re really breaking barriers there.”

“It’s classic, Timothy. Do you deny that?”

“Have you even tried mint chocolate chip?” he shoots back, spoon still proffered. “Instead of, you know, jumping on the hating bandwagon.”

“Wow.”

He grins, stepping closer, wiggling the spoon at you. “Try it.”

And the mistake here, of course, is thinking that you have it in you to deny him. At least for something as unserious as this. 

And he can see the moment you give in, grin turning victorious as he lifts the spoon and you, with your face flaring with heat at the action, only just barely realizing it, have no choice but to take it. 

But the sharp minty flavoring combined with the sweetness of the chocolate chips saves it — you — from getting too weird.

Tim laughs, delighted, as you swallow it, face scrunched up in disgust. 

“I almost feel like you picked that one to torment me.”

“Tormenting you is fun,” he agrees, before dropping his spoon back into his cup, then taking your wrist, hand still holding the forgotten spoonful of ice cream, and guiding it to his mouth.

“You don’t deserve the goodness of my ice cream,” you say, forcing a scowl and a light-hearted glare in a desperate attempt to control the tidal wave of fizzling heat that envelops your insides at him doing that. Mostly his gall. Seriously what is up with him…

It seems to work as he releases your wrist, red spoon cleaned from his mouth — that’s going to haunt you while you eat — and he laughs again. 

You punch his chest lightly, grumbling, then go around him, checking the street for any oncoming cars before going to the passenger door. 

Tim slides in a second later, still chuckling as he turns on the car and leaves his cup of ice cream in the cupholder. You bluster about it for a little but eventually agree to help feed him some of it, since the drive might take a while. Along with that, he lets you commandeer his phone and the music, naturally turning on ABBA as he pulls out and starts for the Sprang Bridge that’ll take you to the northernmost island, with Otisburg and the Knights Stadium in the east and Burnley and Park Row to the west. Continuing north, you hit the Kane Bridge that’ll take you off the islands entirely.

Take A Chance On Me plays on the speakers as you dutifully spoon the last bits of Tim’s ice cream into his mouth, then set the cup aside. Traffic slows you down but you don’t mind. You’ve never actually crossed this bridge, you think, in your entire time here. To the east is Amusement Mile and Gotham River, while west shows the rest of the Atlantic, dark waters stretching out into oblivion.

Tim hums the song idly, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder as he moves into the left lane that is going faster than the one you are currently in. Even with his admittedly reckless and impatient driving skills, you are nothing less than smitten as he taps the rhythm to the song on the steering wheel. 

Hiding a smile, you finish your own ice cream and get comfortable. 

It takes a while to finally get off the bridge and onto the two-lane road for Bristol. Considerably higher in elevation, it affords you exactly what he said — a scenic route of Gotham, overlooking the entire island. Even Metropolis, off in the distance. The sun is starting to set, too, washing everything in gold. 

At that, he pulls off the main road to a small gravel-filled area with no other cars and a single path that leads through the woods. 

“I guess this is the time you’re going to finally murder me and dispose of my body?”

“Naturally. But only after we watch the sunset on Spillkin Hill,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning off the car.

“Ah, of course, of course.”

The trail leads to a grassy hill that overlooks the city. Tim brings out the blanket again and you collapse there, a little sweaty and a little out of breath. He offers you a drink from his water bottle, which you gladly accept. 

From here, you can see everything. The Kane Bridge, with bumper-to-bumper traffic, Amusement Mile, rollercoasters arching high into the sky, Knights Stadium, sun glinting off the metal, floodlights on and bright. Up here, away from the true reality of what goes on in the dark, the city looks beautiful washed in the golden light of the sunset.

So does Tim, you think, breath catching in your throat as a breeze ruffles his dark hair and your fingers twitch to run through it, to put it back into order. His skin glows under the light, thick lashes casting shadows over the swell of his cheeks, cornflower blue eyes softened in a way that makes you want to lean in. 

You don’t.

Instead, you look back out, biting at the inside of your cheek. 

You had thought and hoped that your feelings might be short-lived, just a crush, just an infatuation, but what you are learning, since the day you two went to the rec center, since he spent the night, is that it will not be that simple. These feelings, you think, are the kind that stick with you, the ones that will make themselves known every time you spy a flowering dogwood or hear the call of a Robin. 

But that’s fine. Tim has brightened your world, made it that much warmer. You just want him, in any capacity that you can have him.

Even with his odd behavior today and from the last few weeks, behavior that has you second-guessing… Hope is a dangerous thing to have in Gotham City, after all.

But who are you kidding, right? That’s half the reason you stay here. 

And maybe, just maybe, it can finally pay off here.

You’ll have to wait and see. 

━ end notes

1. the stuff about the state tests for NJ — i did search that stuff up, however, the SLA stuff i just made up bc i like acronyms. so :D also! new jersey and oregon are in fact the only states in the us with self-service laws still in place, so basically, you cannot fill up your own gas. i always have a chuckle when i remember that LMAO

2. about the poison ivy thing, i just thought that would be some Fun Gotham Lore. i also don’t know if others would know, exactly, that she was inhabiting it during no man’s land because during that event, it was all hush-hush and mostly rumors, but afterward, there had to be more talk about it, especially when the kids she was taking care of were turned over to officials, you know?

3. here’s a website where you can listen to the calls of both the downy woodpecker and the robin mentioned here!

reblogs are appreciated!

[aseioh]

Of Stars and Moonlit walks pt.2/?

Notes: Some housekeeping first. Donna for the purpose of this story will be based partly on her unused content from the game as well as some canon info. This means that she has a darker background than the one that was used in the game proper as I would really like to incorporate those into this story.

Another thing is that as you’ve probably read from the previous chapter. The characters here are slightly out of character, I’m afraid this is entirely my problem as I’m not used to writing stories

----

Chapter 2: Dinner with a show

Dinner with the Dimitrescus’ was never a quiet affair, in fact it is the very definition of a happy family dinner. The three daughters vying for their Mother’s attention, retelling their afternoon adventures. Alcina sitting at the head of the table patiently listening to everything her daughters tell her, her smile so much different from the usual smirk or predatory grin she sports during the meetings with Mother Miranda and the other Lords.

It made her look softer; Motherhood seems to suite her like her gloves.

At the back of Donna mind, she remembers her childhood before things went bad. Sunday roast dinners made by Mother, Father sneaking from behind to leave a kiss on her Mother’s cheek. Yes, everything seems so simple back then.

The dining room itself is small and cozy, Donna guesses that this room is where the family usually dines compared to the cavernous dining hall that exits into their courtyard.

Across the table Bela has been silently studying their mysterious guest. Of course she has been joining her sisters retell their afternoon escapades in the garden and how they had manage to scare the new maids. But throughout dinner she has been subtly glancing at Donna.

The women certainly is interesting, so quiet compared to her doll that you would have imagined that the chatty doll is the Lord and the woman is the puppet. But she had listened to her Mother’s lesson unlike her two sisters. She knows who Donna Beneviento is, what the woman is capable of.

What an interesting study, I wonder what is behind that veil.

‘She must be pretty.’ She thought as she swirls the wine in her glass.

“So Angie, wanna play hide and seek? Bet you can’t find us! We’re very good at that game” Daniela challenges Angie. The moment that the youngest sister saw the moving doll she has become utterly fascinated by it.

It was obvious that Angie was the greatest doll Donna possesses, as she has mostly used the doll as an extension of her psyche. That said, the doll seems to be capable of autonomous actions based on the way she flitters around the room inspecting various stuff that catches her attention.

“Ha you’re talking to the greatest hide and seeker! Hehehe, alright. Let’s play” Angie exclaimed hopping up and down Donna’s side.

“she really is one of a kind huh?” Cassandra muses.

“Yes, my Father built and gifted her to me on my birthday, we’ve been inseparable since. When I’ve received my gift from Mother Miranda I’ve decide to share some of my psyche with her. In a way she is an extension of myself, albeit a rather excitable one at that.” Donna explains as she looks on fondly at Angie.

As Alcina stands up from her chair and offers her hand to Donna “Yes well enough of that melancholy dear, shall we retire or will you join me for a short night cap.”

“And girls if you are going to play with Angie make sure that you don’t cause too much noise. God knows we need some rest after today.”

“Yes Mother!” the three answers in unison

“You guys hide, and I’ll seek” Daniela announces as she grins predatorily. The ‘preys’ have already scattered before she even finished her sentence. After counting to ten she proudly bellows “READY or NOT, HERE I COMEEE!!” with that she disintegrates into hundreds of flies intent on ‘hunting’ her preys.

----

Adjourning to another room the two Lords sit in front of a roaring fire. Alcina casually cupping one of her finest vintages, while Donna content on sipping her tea.

“Donna when I asked you to join me for a night cap, I didn’t expect you to drink tea” Alcina chuckles at Donna’s preferred drink.

Donna having removed her veil as she was alone with Alcina responds by standing up and taking the crystal decanter by the table. She pours a fingers worth of aged whiskey into her cup. Smirking she raises her tea laced whiskey to Alcina and gulps down a mouthful.

Seeing this Alcina roars into laughter. “You really can surprise anyone” Wiping a stray tears from her eyes “and that is why anyone who underestimates you meets their end.”

“At that I can only blame them” Donna answers. The two fell into a companionable silence, the silence only broken by the occasional cracking of the fire.

“Tell me Donna, how is your project with Heisenberg. I do hope the man is not running you haggard. I know that it concerns Mother Miranda’s plan but you shouldn’t run yourself to hard. Let Heisenberg sweat a bit”

“Thank you for your concern Alcina, but you shouldn’t worry. Believe it or not Karl and I are very efficient with our work, and yes, I let him do all the heavy lifting. I’m just there when he needs a second opinion on the new ‘soldat’ hardware.” Donna levels Alcina with a grateful smile, who knew that the tallest and blood thirsty Lord of the village have a soft spot for her ‘siblings’.

“Yes, yes I’m just worried that Mother Miranda has been running you ragged. Lord knows she’s been going full tilt with her so called ‘plan’.

“Actually Alcina, may I ask you for a favor?”

“Depends, does it involve the depletion of our whiskey stores?” At that Alcina couldn’t help but give a short chuckle.

“Very funny. But no. I would never deprive Karl of his favorite drink.” Donna shakes her head, pin it to the back of her head ‘Alcina is a funny half-drunk.’

“No, I was wondering if you would allow me to tour your greenhouse. I would love to see your plants and roses.”

“Is that all? Of course, I’ll ask Bela to take you tomorrow. She’s usually the one to tend to my roses, she’s picked up the hobby after reading some books and my roses have never looked livelier.”

“Thank you.”

-----

A knock on the door alerts Donna that her companion for the day has arrived. From what Angie has relayed to her last night, the girls had fun with their game with Angie being declared the ultimate victor followed closely by Cassandra. Apparently being a small doll makes it near impossible to find her inside the huge castle.

“Good morning Donna, shall we go to the greenhouse?” Bela extends her arms towards the hallway as they make their way to the greenhouse.

“You look pretty today Bela! I love your dress, it suits you so much it brings out your eyes!” Angie says as she turns her head to face Bela. Donna who has been carrying Angie had to think hard on not dropping the doll or stop walking.

Bela for her part slightly blushes at the compliment. “You really think so Angie?” Angie enthusiastically nods her head, fearing that it might fall off Donna decides to intervene.

“Angie’s right Bela, you look really beautiful today.” At that Bela’s blush blossoms like one of her Mother’s roses. “Thank you, Angie, Donna”

“I must say though, your hands are beautiful Donna, they look so soft-“ Bela stops herself before she could say more and embarrass herself further. ‘Really Bela, her hands are pretty, Mother Miranda above what are you a child!?’ she chides herself.

Not knowing how to respond to such a compliment herself, Donna instead slows down her walk and whispers, “Thank you, Bela” Although Bela doesn’t seem to hear as she was busy chiding herself.

Thankfully the two arrive at the Castle’s greenhouse without any hitch.

Entering the great building Donna is surprised by the sheer number of plants that the building houses. Exotic plants that can only survive in tropical climates seem to thrive even in their Romanian climate. At the center of place is Alcina’s roses, the bushes so lush its as if each rose were painted there. Truly they were the main attraction of the greenhouse.

“They’re beautiful, and is it true that you yourself tended to these flowers?” Donna enquired as she caresses the petals of a rose amazed at the softness of it.

“Well, yes. I read in the library on the optimal way to care for the roses. I though that I could try my hands on caring for them. To ward off boredom of course, Mother said that we should look for hobbies and stop terrorizing the hired help” Bela explains as she tries not to blush on how Donna touches the plant.

“I don’t think it’s just that Bela. You have a big heart. You’ve managed to grow something from this barren and frozen place. You gave it your time and love and in return, they bloom for you.” Donna says quietly voice soft it’s as if the wind itself is talking.

Bela blushes furiously and is left speechless. ‘this is the third time she’s been made to blush! What the hell Bela get a hold of yourself’.

Donna sensing that she has said too much tries to back paddle. “I’m sorry it’s just how I see here. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“No thank you Donna, really that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”

Thankfully the awkwardness of the place changes when Cassandra barrels through the greenhouse. “Lady Beneviento, may Angie play with us again? We want a rematch with her. This time we’ll definitely win” She says with fire in her voice.

And even though her sisters have said that she can sometimes gloss over and ‘cannot read the room’, Cassandra knew for certain that something has happened. It might be the blush her elder sister is sporting or the subtle twitch of Donna’s hands.

But there are more pressing matters at hand, a Champion needs to be dethroned. Therefore she filed the weird atmosphere around Donna and Bela for another time.

At the mention of the challenge Angie becomes animated and hops off to run into Cassandra. The three leaves Donna alone to ponder the situation inside the greenhouse.

Perhaps her stay at Castle Dimitrescu would be full of surprises after all.

----

Another note: I’ve also been made aware that Donna may suffer from Agoraphobia. I’m sorry that I haven’t taken that into consideration when writing this story, in this case Donna just suffers from a slight fear of unknown people and will not talk at all if she’s in front of new people (which won’t technically happen in this fic)

[some-dr-writings]

Izuru, Hajime, and Kirumi x SHSL Military General

Izuru Kamukura:

·       Boring. That was what he had thought of you at first. You had no new talent he didn’t… and yet, despite your fearsome rumors, it seemed all those under your command adored you. He already knew it was not the cliché case of ‘oh you just need to get to know them’ nor you were secretly going about your work in a cult like fashion. No, there was something else, and he decided to snuff it out.

·       “It’s been several days now. If you wish something of me you need but speak, or at the least walk by my side. How much longer do you plan on tailing me?” You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the man who was but a few paces behind. Both your expressions perfectly stoic, blank. “As long as it takes to find out why everyone loves you. That was my initial objective. But you’re boring. You’re nurturing. Your tone alone is enough to compel others to follow your lead, to not disappoint you out of respect. Now… I want to know why you’re different from me.” You needed but a glance to find your answer. “The difference… I thought a being exactly akin to myself, a person made to be a weapon would already know that.” You walked a few paces, stopping right before him. It was as if he were a statue, not moving at all as you cupped your hand on his cheek, the smallest, softest, kindest of smiles pulling at the corners of your lips. “Good luck old friend. Even with a luck talent you’ll need it.” You then walked away, Izuru following just a few paces behind.

·       “Come now. If you’re going to stick around, work out with me. Surely, you’ve figured out by now that simply observing me, you’ll not get the answers you’re seeking.” Still, Izuru simply stood beside you as you were finishing your pushups atop that mountain with the sky just barely starting to show the signs of a new day beginning. “Why do you speak with me casually, unlike all others? You don’t even speak this way with those you call friends.” “I simply find it natural to speak this way with one so harmless. Just as I find it natural to speak with others in a more formal tone.” “… Harmless.” Hopping up from your pushups you began your climb back down the treacherous mountain. “You find Komaeda to be a weapon of mass destruction, and me, harmless? That’s incomprehensible.” “To you, perhaps.” You kept going for a few moments before deciding to give him some extra help. “You’re an innocent child, myself before I became who I am now, before I rejected the idiotic notion of a weapon being more powerful than man.”

·       He pondered over that brief conversation for a long time. Man being more powerful than a weapon. He knew you were not speaking of how man creates weapons and are the ones who use them, so…

·       “Oh! Hey, Y/N! So, your sidekick finally decided to join us!” The first day Izuru had begun to follow you, you stopped him when going for those nightly training sessions saying he would either participate or go away because you were not going to allow any bystanders. All nights after he’d disappear at some point as you made your way to meet up with Kaito and the others. But he stayed by your side that night, training with the others, giving you and Maki a run for your money when it came to endurance in these exercises.

·       “You’re making everyone uncomfortable just standing in the corner. Come play with us.” Izuru did as told and joined the card game you were playing with your classmates.

·       “Izuru, teach them how to set up the stall, while I take care of matters here.” He helped out your class set up for the school festival.

·       “Huh…” Truthfully you were half expecting Izuru to show up to the beach his usual suit and not swim trunks, let alone playing volleyball with the others already.

·       The others had already left back for school, the field trip long done, but you stayed behind to fit in some of your own exercises… Izuru did as well. “So, finally out of your emotionless emo phase, or are you still insisting everything is boring?” “… I thought by copying you I’d find why we’re different.” “And have you?” “…” He actually thought about it for a moment an answer not immediately puzzled out in his mind. “I’m still gathering information.” “I see.” Seems he was growing up faster than you did, then again you didn’t have anyone to help guide you.

·       For a long time you continued your stretches. “I must admit though, I thought it’d take longer before you’d take this first step.” You stopped, beginning to jog in place, slowly picking up your pace. “This world, with how awful it is, I still find it boring myself at times. But that’s not the good part of it all. Being alive. I’m anticipating to see what you’ll find in people. For me, it’s not a certain aspect of them, but everything. True, humans are creatures of patterns, but focusing on the individual… seeing them as people and not objects, or weapons, or patterns… seeing what they actually are…Connecting… that’s my answer at least, why I gave up being you, a husk intended to be a weapon. Humans no matter how they try, can’t be anything other than human. A human being… strange and funny creatures I find us to be at least.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly chuckling to yourself. “Be sure to tell me when you find your answer. I’m sure someone skilled in more than war will find something I could never hope too, and that sounds exciting to me. But for now, back to training.”

·       Then you dashed away, down the shore, to that brilliantly bright sunset.

·       And he ran. He didn’t even think about it. He was still unsure of what he was doing or what exactly he was searching for, but… something inside him was calling out to you, he just knew he needed to be with you. So he was going to keep chasing after you and perhaps one day, he’d figure it out and finally walk beside you.

    Hajime Hinata:

·       To Hajime, each and every last person who manage to be invited to the academy was an amazing person. How else could they be described? They were individuals who all had already changed the word in some way or another, but there was one individual who arguably made the largest impact to the world, more than any present or past student, the Super High School Level Military General. Nothing of their personage was known, a complete mystery, not even their name. They were solely known for their accomplishments, a child, seemingly appearing out of nowhere quickly rose up through the ranks, becoming a general, and swiftly putting an end to any war they touched. Wars still appeared, but not long and they’d appear putting it to an end with little life being lost, most countries began fighting in less direct ways because of this. What else could they do? The fighting did stop, but not the conflicts that were the root of them. Still, putting an end to so much fighting so quickly was unimaginable to most. Some say their appearance only made conflict worse, some say they saved the world. No matter what one thought, it was undeniable the Super High School Military General left an unmistakable impact that had forever changed the world.

·       And such an amazing person, was the very first friend he had made at the academy, despite him just being a reserve course student.

·       He didn’t even know who they were at first. The school year hadn’t technically started yet, but students were allowed on campus to move their belongings into their dorm rooms and such and that was exactly what Hajime was doing. He didn’t have much, so he was finished quickly and decided to just walk around for a bit. He found himself just looking at the main building off in the distance. So close, yet so far away, just barely out of reach seemingly when he knew deep down, he truly was nowhere close. Then suddenly he spotted something. Not far, just within reach.

·       “Is the vending machine jammed?” “Not as far as I know.” Hajime looked to the machine in confusion, not noticing anything off with it, so why were you just standing before it? “What do you recommend?” Though you hadn’t done much something about how you looked to him, how your voice seemed to resonate in him, he was taken aback for a moment before collecting himself, quickly looking over the options. “Well… I like the orange ramune.” He pointed to it, showing exactly where it was. Not saying a word you placed in some yen and pressed the button for it. How you carried yourself mesmerized him. He couldn’t quite place his finger on why though. It was stiff yet seemed effortless. A rather strange combination to him. Before he knew it you had the drink and… were just looking at it, flipping it around. You had taken off the cap but seemed lost as to what to do next. “There’s a plunger in the cap, you take that out and place it on top where the cap was.” You followed his instructions without question. “Then you push it down, releasing the marble and there you go.” You seemed surprised, your eyes widening a little as the soda kinda exploded as it usually did when being opened. Then you held it out to him? “I can tell you haven’t drunk anything in the past several hours. Take it.” “Oh, thanks.”

·       Your whole demeanor seemed off, somewhat alien. As you got yourself another drink, he couldn’t help but ask- “Are you a foreigner? This soda is rather common in Nippon.” “I suppose one could say that of me.” … Well, that was a strange response. “Seems like we’ve both had a long day. I saw an arcade nearby. Want to just relax and hangout there for a while?” You looked to him in what he assumed was surprise, you didn’t seem very expressive, but he could still see these small shifts in your eyes. For a moment, when he had asked, they seemed to sparkle. “Certainly, lead the way.”

·       The pair of you had a rather fun outing to the arcade. So much of… well everything you seemed unaccustomed too. “What’s this?” “The prize corner? We can win tickets to trade for stuff here.” “Huh… so a transfer of currency, to test skill, to gain a new currency…” Even rather basic things. “How did you do that?” “Do what?” “Make that bubble from your mouth?” “I just blew a bubble with the bubblegum.” “There exists food to blow into bubbles?” Hajime wondered if you grew up extremely sheltered. If that was the case, you were probably from an extremely rich family considering you’d have to pour so much money to get into the reserve course. He felt rather sorry for you. “Have you been to the movies before?” “Never.” “We could go watch some if you’d like, get some more candy and some popcorn.” “I know not if I’d like it, never having experienced it before, but I am curious.” “Let’s go then!”

·       For the next several days Hajime would find you around campus and you’d just go out and have fun in the town. Strangely though, he never saw you at the dorms. He did most often find you exercising so he assumed you just woke up very early.

·       You sat beside him on a bench, passing an orange ramune his way. “So Y/N, feeling ready for class to start tomorrow?” “Yes, I’ve made all necessary preparations and more.” “Still doesn’t feel real that I’m even here, I think it will be a few days till this sinks in.” “… Hinata.” “Yes?” “When class stars… Well, before I ask how schools work, I find a matter more pressing. Will we still spend time together when class starts, like going to the mall, or the park together?” “Of course, we’re friends. Sure, we might get busy with schoolwork sometimes, but we can make time. If you’d like we could study together.” You were silent for a moment, mulling over his words as you took a sip of your soda. “friend…” It was strange to hear that new tone. There was no power or commend to it, it was but a faint unconscious whisper to yourself. “I wonder if we’ll have separate curriculums since we’ll be in different classes.” You knew you’d be in different classes. Maybe you were taking advanced courses or something. That was what Hajime had assumed at least. “Maybe, but we still have break and lunch to chat, we just can’t go out. At least we have holidays.” “Yes, we do have break and lunch. Then you’d be alright if I schedule to spend my breaks with you?” “I don’t mind.”

·       “… Thank you Hin-… Friend. I give you my thanks, Friend. For being my friend… I’ve never had one before. There are so many things I know not, but I intend for you to know I’ll do my utmost to keep improving. You’ve… changed my view on things in such a short amount of time. I find it remarkable.” The new spring breeze rolled past, carrying along the fresh scent of flowers. The sun beamed down, warming the cool world. “Ah, I haven’t done much, but I’m glad knowing our time together means so much to you.” “It’s strange… getting the chance to live as a teenager. Never before have I had the opportunity to be anything over than a military general.” Wait… military general? “For as long as I can recall, I’ve been molded to be a weapon and nothing more. I was the top candidate in the project, which allowed me access, well more so forcibly having me join the army. I believed myself to be unfeeling, emotionless for a time. After all, the soldiers could react with horror and fear at taking life, even celebrating when a battle was won, but I didn’t, to me, it just seemed to be more training. I only ever perceived humans as more targets. That was all my existence was, fighting. But as I was trained to be smart, tactical, I had noticed their reactions. I could not relate to them, but I could sympathize with them. I thought I knew not emotional pain, only physical, but somewhere in my mind I made the connection of physical, mental, and emotional pain as all one in the same. I could not understand them directly, but at the time I knew pain was bad, and so that was what started me beginning to see humans as people, more than bags of flesh. I listened to their stories of their friends, family, and loved ones. I did not understand directly, but I knew then I wanted to protect them, just as they wanted to protect their families, and so I began to think of them as my friends. The project runners soon caught on to my realizing I was human too, and began to torture me to make me believe humans were nothing but bad… bad, good, black, white, they had such an archaic, rudimentary view of life, it’s pitiful. As I realized the humans I worked with were people, I realized those we were fighting were exactly the same. We’re all human, all people, people with causes and more importantly others to fight for… Even if I was but an outsider looking in, not truly able to understand, I knew with all that was thrust onto me I was going to change the system. Be a humanitarian. Save all I could. I would mold my soldiers not in my image, but make them strong enough so they can protect others and themselves even without my leadership, to draw out their true strength from being human… but now…” You looked to the ramune bottle you held. “Before I saw humanity, but now I’ve experienced it, even if but a fraction.” You turned to him, cupping your hand on his cheek, the smallest, softest, kindest of smiles pulling at the corners of your lips. “Simply doing things others do everyday I find so exciting, but something I found with my soldiers, hearing their stories of their loved ones, connecting with them, and now, connecting with you, connecting with other human beings… I think this is the best part of being alive. You’ve shown me the world from a new perspective. I can now finally understand. I had some semblance of it before, but… I was still fighting, not… whatever not fighting is, what you’ve shown me, playing at an arcade and watching movies. THIS is what they were all so desperate to protect. I just wanted them to live, but I didn’t know what being alive was. And so… I suppose I fear us not getting to have our outings as often. This, being friends with you… It’s the most… My vocabulary has failed me, I can’t even begin to describe this, but, I will do whatever it takes for you to not just see, but understand how much I appreciate and treasure all that you have done for me… You are my very first friend after all. I want to treat you right. And I will.”

·       “Wait… so, you’re the Super High School Level Military General?” “That is a title I have been christened recently, but it is not all I am. After all, I’ve more recently gained the title as your friend.” This… was a lot for Hajime to take it. Now he felt a bit weird about telling you so much about his adoration for Hope’s Peak and it’s students, who you were one of, how he wished he could belong there and not just paid to be on the side lines. Yet… despite you being one of those students… he was just talking to his friend… remembering that made this feel less awkward, though a little embarrassing still.

·       It was strange having the stares of his classmates as they just watched him eating with you, to the point you’d often walk around till you found a quieter place to just enjoy your time together in peace.

·       You’d still hangout outside of school, it was both of your favorite time together. You could just be together and be happy without this strange divide that others forced between you two.

ENDING 1:

·       When Hajime befriended Chiaki and her class, he dragged you along, helping you to connect with the others. You both became honorary members of the class.

·       These connections were things you were never going to allow to fade, making sure to regularly keep in contact with everyone even after graduating.

·       With the world having relative peace you retired, working as a personal trainer. You’d come out of retirement temporarily if a new war sprung up, but you always ended it quickly with as little life lost as possible… “Ah, Y/N, you’re back!” “I said I’d be, didn’t I?” Your face instantly flushed a bright red upon Hajime hugging you so tightly. “You took much longer than usual, I thought something had happened.” “A-ah… I…” ... happily returning to your husband and your peaceful life together. This was all both you and Hajime wanted, and you were happy just to be together.

ENDING 2:

·       Even still, no matter how much you tried, you just seemed to be naturally pulled to separate worlds, the staff always causing trouble for Hajime when he’d go to see you, only for you to end up defending him. Moments like these…

·       His mind was a blur, he couldn’t hold onto a single thought, and so he went out for a walk, hoping the fresh air could clear his mind.

·       “Friend.” “Oh, Y/N-” He turned around, finding you were but a few paces behind him. “- you startled me.” You were stoic, standing there stiffly, the only movement was the wind lifting up pieces of your uniform. “You want to talk about something?” “Indeed. The Kamukura project… What’s with that expression, surely one such as I would know of an experiment such as this.” “Y-yeah, I guess so.” “I but wish you to place my mind at ease, after all… I’ve never trained you, you’re not my soldier, I… know not if you’ll be safe on your own, so… I wish to know if you are informed as to what you’ll be doing from kin, one who has attempted to be molded into a weapon as well.” He looked you up and down, searching for something, though he wasn’t sure what himself. Then he nodded. “By partaking in this project, you may never return to now. They may attempt to make you a weapon, but that will not come to be. Friend, should you follow my path, I still will not take you in as a soldier for you have no need of such. They will say you’re someone entirely new, and that you may be. I know not the consequences of one following my path after being allowed to be human for so long. Likely for a time, you will know nothing but fighting, you may have to relearn what it is to be human, is that a process you are willing to go through? It is one I in fact am still stumbling through.” “… Yeah. I know you say all life has meaning, that everyone matters, but… I want to do more!” “And I shall never stop you from any endeavor for self-improvement. That is not my intention here.” You held out your hand to him. “I but wish that after you follow me, you catch up so we may walk side by side once more.” “Of course. Whatever happens next, I know I’ll be alright, I have my friend with me.” Taking your hand into his own he could feel the warmth that seeped through your glove. “Well then…” With an outstretched arm you presented Hope’s Peak. “Shall we be off?” “Yes.”

·       You followed Hajime, but a few paces behind till he stood before those doors off limits to most staff and all students but him. He looked over his shoulder having herd your steady footfalls come to a stop. You both knew you could follow him no longer. This next step he’d have to take on his own, but it was alright, he knew he’d be lost and run after you for a while, but in the end, he’d be someone better, someone who could not only walk beside you, but keep in time and never fall behind. No more chasing after you or leading you around. This time around, you could truly keep in time with one another.

    Kirumi Tojo:

·       Kirumi had met you through Korekiyo, he introduced the two of you thinking you’d make for good friends given how similar you were. You both lived to serve others, to make them as great of people as they could be. Kirumi admired the lengths you’d go for your soldiers, keeping mental and emotional health in mind, not just physical. All you wished was for your soldiers to be even greater than yourself so that together the whole world could be a safe place. Being your maid was something she had considered, but you were perfectly fine on your own, even being able to work on self-improvement without the assistance of others. Surely being your maid, she’d be able to an extent serve and help many others but given you absolutely couldn’t find someone like her to be of use, she became your friend instead.

·       Whenever the pair of you had free time, you’d share stories of the past. On occasion you’d trade advice, but the both of you felt it almost wrong to assist one another. You both loved helping others, but also valued self-improvement above all else which included your own improvement. Both of you were simply so self-reliant any assistance would simply be a hindrance from improving yourself in some way. Even so, your chats together were your favorite. You both understood one another in ways most others simply could not even begin to comprehend.

·       You always spent time with one another when you were taking breaks. Taking breaks was vitally important, even for workaholics such as yourselves. You both would change your schedule so they could align. Often, you’d make a day of it, going out and trying something Hajime had shown you recently such as going for a walk through a botanical garden, going to the cinema, or just lazing about on the beach. These were rather awkward but fun excursions, the both of you not exactly sure how to relax in a way similar to others. Often the awkwardness could looked back on with laughter at how silly it’d look to others.

·       By chance the pair of you had but a short break for an hour or so you’d most often exercise, something light for you like a thousand push-ups or curl-ups and other such things while Kirumi would speak of her past experiences as a maid. One time it’d be how she saved he client from a literal army, the next being about her setting up a whole wedding due to the caterer just being plain awful at their job. You’d so curiously ask her questions such as what catering was or how to bake a cake so you could gave one to one of our classmate’s for their up coming birthday. Kirumi loved answering your every last question, it was one of the few things she could do to truly help you without getting in the way. She’d eagerly teach you any and all skills you were unfamiliar with, and you rather liked knowing Kirumi was enjoying this so much. You’d think of any possible skill you were lacking and asked her to be your teacher and in exchange you’d teach her battle and fighting tactics even she didn’t know.

·       You adored being able to help one another, and you’d search out excuses to do so.

·       “So what you’re saying is you’re out of work.” “Indeed.” “Meet me at the front gate, sixteen o’clock.” That was all that needed to be said for the both of you to be there right on time, down to the exact second. Not a word was exchanged as you lead her down the streets through town. Though you enjoyed your chats with one another, you didn’t speak too often. Speaking wasn’t needed to build a connection with one another. Being together was enough most of the time.

·       “Hey General.” “There you are Y/N, oh Tojo? So Y/N brought you here too, that’s why they’re late today.” Kirumi found herself in a rather cozy building, many people with various injuries, along with Shuichi as well. Most of them sat at one main table where biscuits and tea sat on a platter. “So this is the General’s other new friend. Come in, come in. Everybody’s welcome to the drop-in center. Come have some tea and share some stories.” “The Generals says you have quite the yarns to tell.” Both you and Shuichi knew what was to come next. “If you so wish. And if the tea is low, I shall make more.” Kirumi immediately made herself at home, serving all the ex-soldiers so attentively. You and Shuichi simply started some training while everyone else ooed and awed at Kirumi and her skills in seemingly everything. It was fun for the pair of you to see the others amazed by the girl both of you were used too, no longer surprised by anything she could do, she could take over the whole galaxy and neither of you would bat an eye, to the both of you she could do anything.

·       Due to the both of you being rather stoic neither of you ever really confessed your feelings. After graduating high school you were just together, no matter the distance or time you’d always reunite with one another eventually. Kirumi often worked with soldiers, helping them get back onto their feet after war. You’d do the same when you weren’t fighting. You both were a perfect duo, doing all you could to make life easier for your soldiers and getting them to a place where they no longer needed your help. The pair of you were simply perfect together.

[amythedvdhoarder]

The Bet

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard​

16th of June prompt: Carefree

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Thor brings some Asgardian liquor to one of Tony’s party and Bucky makes a bet that he may regret

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, little bit of angst but mostly fluff

Authors notes: GIF not mine. This one was tough today. The idea kind of evolved as I wrote this so I hope it’s ok for those of you reading it? Thank you for all the lovely comments. As always feedback welcome x

-----------------------------------------------------------

You glanced across at Bucky. His blue eyes focussed on the road ahead, fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He had a particularly rough week. You could tell when he returned from a mission he was quieter, as if he had relived his past. In fact, he had. The mission had sent him back to a Hydra base he has been kept in as the winter soldier. Then last night he had a nightmare, the first one in about 6 months. You reached across and place your hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What you thinking?” His eyes immediately softened at your words, he glanced over at you briefly and smiled. “Just that I would rather be spending the night with you at home. Eating a take away and watching some shit tv.” You ran your thumb gently over the material of his suit trousers. “I know, me too. But, we promised Tony. We can show our faces and then make a run for it.” He lifted your hand up to his lips and kissed it delicately. “That’s why I love you doll.”

The party was in full swing when you and Bucky arrived. Everyone looked at you both as you walked in, which seemed unusual. Bucky’s arm automatically went to your waist, holding you close to him. Bucky hated social gatherings, but with you he felt more at ease. Spotting Thor and Steve, you headed to the bar. “Ah Y/N, Bucky, how are you?” You momentarily left Bucky so that Thor could envelope you in a bear hug. “I’m good. It’s been ages” you laughed as you moved and rested your back against Bucky’s chest. “I arrived this afternoon, where have you two been hiding?” Bucky patted Thor on the shoulder in greeting. “We moved out to our own place a few weeks ago”. Steve passed you a drink over, he looked carefully at your hand as you took it. This was the second funny thing that had happened since you arrived. What was going on? Thor’s booming voice interrupted your thoughts “You won’t want to join me then?” he said brandishing a bottle of Asgardian Liquor at Bucky. You could feel Bucky shift behind you. “We could always stay in your old room, you still have some stuff here?” You said, peering over your shoulder to look at Bucky. He sent you a questioning frown but nodded as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. Maybe it would do him some good to relax after the week he had had.

Hours later most of the other guests had left, leaving just the members of team to enjoy the rest of the night. You we sat with Nat and Wanda whilst Bucky was talking to Sam and Steve. Bucky had relaxed after his first couple of drinks. You hadn’t really seen him drunk before but there was a first time for everything. Bucky rarely seemed this carefree. He caught your eye from across the room and walked over to you. You couldn’t help but admire him, he looked gorgeous in his black fitted suit paired with a black shirt. When he got up to you he leant over and whispered “Wanna dance?” You looked at him “You are drunk” you giggled at him. “Am not. Just want to show of my girl.” He took your hand and led you over the dance floor. Both his hands found his way to your hips and your arms laced behind his neck as you swayed to the music together. You loved him so much, it wasn’t often you saw this side of him. Bucky was one of the kindest and most decent people you had met, but when he wasn’t out in the field he was shy and nervous. The Bucky in your arms was confident and had no problem showing his affection for you, something he normally reserved for when you were in private. “Y/N I love you. That dress is incredible” he murmured against your neck. You tilted your chin him so that you could kiss him. “I love you too Buck”.

“Yo, lovebirds” Both of you turned to look at Sam. He was stood with Steve and Thor. You rolled your eyes as you and Bucky walked over to them. “So, I reckon that Steve is faster than Bucky and Thor reckons Bucky is faster than Steve.” Bucky chuckled next to you. “Let’s find out.” Nat, Tony and Wanda walked over to the gathering. Bucky took off his Jacket. “You can’t be serious” you said incredulously. “What’s going on?” Tony said loudly. “Steve and Tinman are going to race.” Sam replied, excitement evident in his voice. “My money is on Cap.” Bets were placed then Steve said something very unlike him. “I think me and Buck should make a bet too.” Bucky looked interested “You’re on punk. If I win then you have to ask Sharon out.” Steve blushed and looked taken back, then a glint appeared in his eyes. “Ok, if I win you have to propose to Y/N” You were about to start arguing then Bucky cut you off. “Deal” and shook Steve’s outreached hand.

At this you threw your hands up in the air and walked off towards the bar. You wanted Bucky to propose because he wanted to, not because of winning a stupid bet. So, you left the boys to their idiotic bet, you knew Bucky was drunk for the first time in years, maybe he didn’t realise what he had agreed to? 10 minutes later everyone came back in; Bucky wearing a scowl. He walked over to you “I lost.” He tried to put his arm around you put you held your hand out to stop him. You shook your head. “You’re not proposing to me now, I forbid it.” He was shocked at your reaction. “I’m off to bed” with that you walked off towards his old room. You stripped off your silky black dress, letting it pool around your ankles and pulled off your underwear and stepping into the shower. The water helped sooth the pounding in your head. How could Bucky make a bet like that? Later that night when he came in stumbling around the room, you ignored him, keeping your back to him.

When morning arrived, you were still annoyed at him. You rolled over and Bucky groaned as you woke him up. “Y/N, what happened last night?” his voice sounded gravely. “Do you really not remember?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I remember drinking too much and running but that’s about it.” You sat up and stretched. “Well you made a bet with Steve that you could beat him in a race, you lost.” Bucky looked at you, slight panic in his eyes. “What was the bet?” You frowned and turned to him “that you had to propose to me.” His reaction wasn’t what you expected; his face flushed and his mouth opened and closed as he thought of what to say. “That punk.”

Now you were confused. “Y/N, Steve came with me the other week to buy a ring. I was” he paused “going to propose to you last night before the party.” It took a minute or two for you to respond “So Steve was…” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose “I think trying to help, he thought I had bottled it. The party was going to become our engagement party.” Bucky moved closer to you in the bed. Least that explained the way everyone had looked at you when you walked in and the way Steve had stared at your hand when giving you a drink. “But you didn’t propose to me. You didn’t want to even go to the party.” Bucky couldn’t stand the hint of pain in your voice. His hand cupped your chin and tilted your face towards his “Y/N, after everything this week, I didn’t think the timing was right. I wanted it to be special” His forehead was now resting against yours. “But why did you take the bet then?” You asked quietly. He kissed the top of your nose “I don’t even remember taking the bet, I was drunk. I haven’t been drunk since the 40’s Y/N. Please forgive me and let me make it up to you”. Pulling back from him, your eyes locked to his. You could see the regret there. “Hmmm I guess. You were drunk, but you owe me breakfast Barnes” He threw himself at you and peppered kisses all over your face. “I am sorry” you chuckled “I know, but you’re still an idiot. My idiot. I love you.” Bucky lifted himself off you and rested on his elbow, his fingers running up and down your arm “I love you too Y/N.”

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​, @buckys-plums3​, @silentcoyotesong​, @lonelyheartsm​

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Beer Pong

Fandom: Marvel (College AU)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

As requested by anonymous:  Hi, so that frat boy chris gif set is giving me so many feelings and I was wondering if I could request some frat boy! Steve smut? Like reader has a class with him and he seems so quiet and out of place for a stereotypical frat house, but then they see him at a party and hes just as drunk and wild as the rest of them, so they decide to talk to him and kachow! They're doing the do.

warning: smut

A/N: yeeeaaah we don’t condone drunk sex here. so i tweaked the request a bit. also, THIS IS REALLY LONG. I’M SORRY GUYS! I GOT TOO INTO IT! 4.5K WORDS! I’M SO, SO SORRY! I HOPE YOU DON’T HATE ME!

“Hilly, I really didn’t wanna come here!” you tried to pull against the tight grip your best friend, Brunnhilde aka Hilly, had on your wrist.

Hilly rolled her eyes, “No, Y/N. You’ve been holed up in our apartment for too long! You need to go out and let loose!”

“No! I-Hilly!! Stop it!” due to her strength, your best friend was able to pull you into the frat house that was bumping with loud music and people yelling and cheering. 

You winced at how loud the music was playing. People all had the stereotypical red cups in their hand, filled to the brim with booze. People were grinding on each other to the music, couples were making out in the dark corners of the house. The entire place smelled of sweat and alcohol. You didn’t like this at all.

Hilly continued to drag you through the house and out the back to the backyard where there were even more people. Her grip on you didn’t ease until she ran into Thor, a guy you had European history with.

“There you are, you big oaf!” Hilly punched Thor in the arm and he chuckled.

“I told you I’d be in the backyard!” he looked behind Hilly and waved at you with a smile, “Hello, Y/N!”

You waved, “Hey Thor.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here. As I recall these aren’t your thing.” he gave Hilly a pointed look, who then shrugged and grabbed the cup from his hand, drinking all of its contents.

You snorted, “Yeah, well, my wonderful best friend thought it’d be good to bring me, despite my rejection.”

Thor nodded, “I see, well, now that you’re here, come play with us! Steve needs a partner because Barnes went off with someone.”

Your ear perked at the familiar name, “Steve? As in Steve Rogers?”

Thor smirked at your sudden interest, “The very same,” he offered his arm to you, “Come along.” Hilly had already went over to the beer pong table where several people were gathered around. When you drew closer, Thor yelled, “Steve! I found you a partner!”

Steve turned towards Thor, his eyes brightening and smile widening at the sight of you, “Y/N! Hi!” he rushed over to you, crushing you in his arms with a hug, “I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

You nervously laughed, “Yeah, uh, same here. You’re a frat boy?”

He shrugged, “Yeah. Surprised?”

“A little. I mean in class you’re so shy and quiet unlike-”

“YEEEAAAH! THAT’S MY BOY!” you heard Luis, another classmate of yours, yell to his friend, Scott who managed to win their round of beer pong.

“-them,” you chuckled at the sight.

“I’m a business major like the rest of ‘em.”

You slowly nodded, “Wow. I’ve sat next to you for half a semester and I’m just finding this out.”

He shrugged, “Well, we hardly get time to chat. Fury is always on people who even asks the person next to them for a pencil.”

You laughed, “That’s true!”

Steve looked down and took note of your empty hands, “You wanna drink?”

You shook your head, “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“That’s fine. We have water, soda, orange juice too, unless Nat and her friends used it all for the mimosas.”

“Water’s fine.” 

He shot you a smile and then excused himself to head back inside the house. Once out of sight, Hilly practically ran into your side, “I saw you talking to him! What’d he say? Did he ask you out yet?”

You snorted, “No, Hilly. We just talked about school. And he’ll definitely not want to ask me out. I’m not his type!”

She arched a brow at you, “You know his type?”

“He’s like any frat boy here. Some tall, skinny chick in a sorority who likes to party and drink. I’m not like that.”

“But Steve isn’t like all these other frat boys,” Hilly pointed out before heading back to the beer pong table. It was her and Thor against Sam and Scott’s girlfriend, Hope. 

Steve startled you when he appeared back at your side, “Sorry,” he gave you a sheepish look.

You took the water bottle from his hands, “Thanks and it’s alright.” you twisted the cap open and gulped nearly half the bottle down, which made Steve snicker.

“Thirsty much?” 

You giggled, “You have no idea. Anyway, Thor said you needed a partner for the game?” you asked, nodding towards the pong table.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

You shrugged, “It’s fine. Might as well, right?”

“I suppose. I’ll drink your drinks too since you said you don’t drink.”

You graciously smiled at him, “Thanks, Steve.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

___________________________

Three rounds of beer pong and you and Steve have been undefeated. Steve, because he took on the responsibility of drinking your drinks, was now soooooo drunk. Every time the ball landed in the other team’s cup, he’d do this adorable dance that always made you laugh. And you noticed whenever you laughed, a big smile would appear on his face and he’d get this look in his eyes. It brought butterflies to your tummy, but it also made you nervous. You’re not Steve’s type. You’ll never be Steve’s type. You needed to get that into your head now before you started to fall harder for him.

It was your turn and the opposing team, Tony and Clint, had one more cup to go. You rolled the ping pong ball in your hand, trying to concentrate. Steve stood right behind you, his front pressed up against your back. 

He leaned over and whispered into your ear, “You got this, Y/N. This is for the win. I believe in you.” You could feel your face heating up from not only his closeness but the fact that he had both hands on your hips. 

“Okay. Here it goes!” you tossed the ball across the table and...SPLOOSH.

“YEEEAAH! WE WON! YOU DID IT, BABY!” Steve picked you up into his arms and kissed you on the mouth. 

Realizing what was happening, you pulled away, staring at Steve wide-eyed, who, in return, stared back at you just the same.

“Fuck,” he stepped away from you, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Shit. I-I’m sorry. I’m drunk! But that’s not an excuse! I just-” his body sagged, “You can leave, if I made you uncomfortable. I-I understand.”

You stared at Steve and without hesitation, you pulled him in for another kiss. Cheers and applause erupted around the two of you which made you break the kiss in laughter. 

Steve’s hands remained on your hips, his forehead resting against yours. He groaned, “I really want you, Y/N.” he’s grinding his crotch into yours and you whimper, which causes him to moan again, “God, I could make you feel so good, baby. Lemme make you feel good.” he’s practically dry humping you in front of everyone, which makes you push him away.

“Steve, stop. You’re-You’re drunk. This-This can’t happen. You don’t want me. Not really.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m gonna go.” You turned your back to him and ran out of the backyard. His cries for you falling deaf upon your ears.

___________________________

You woke up the next morning with a groan. The events of last night replaying through your head and you dug your face into your pillow. You kissed Steve Rogers. Twice. He wanted you, but he was drunk, and that’s what probably hurt the most. Knowing he wouldn’t want you sober.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you grabbed your phone and looked at your notifications. You hadn’t even looked at it when you got back to your dorm and went straight to sleep.

Hilly: where’d you go??

Hilly: thor said you just left after kissing steve?? 

Hilly: seriously, Y/N, where did you go?!

Hilly: YOU BETTER LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU ARE OR I’M CALLING CAMPUS POLICE TO LOOK FOR YOU!

You glanced towards Hilly’s bed to see that she was completely passed out. Thor probably brought her back. She always went too hard with her alcohol. 

You checked your other messages. One was from Thor:

Thor: brought Hilly back. She was freaking out about not knowing where you were. But she was happy to see you in bed when I brought her back. Also, you and Steve huh? ;)

The last batch of messages were from Steve. Some were from last night and the others from early this morning:

Steve: Y/N, im sorry! plasse coe back!

Steve: I wan talk!

Steve: I know I mseed up! 

Steve: at least teell me you got bcak safe!

He was still clearly drunk when he texted you those. Then you read the ones from early this morning:

Steve: Y/N, I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable last night. I don’t know what I was doing. 

Steve: I know that’s a poor excuse, but this is me trying to make up for it. Can we talk?

Steve: well, i’ll be at the house nursing my hangover the entire day, so if you’re willing to talk. you can come by? or I can come to you? Whatever makes you comfortable.

And that was that. 

You tossed your phone onto your bed and sat up. You can do one of two things: 1) be completely immature and pretend all of last night didn’t happen or 2) be a responsible adult and talk things out with Steve. 

As much as you wanted to do number 1, the logical part of your brain told you to do number 2. So number 2 it is. 

__________________________

Steve stared at his phone, specifically the messages he had sent you last night and this morning. You read them, but hadn’t responded to him at all. He tossed the phone onto the couch in the living room of the frat house cursing. 

Bucky walked over and plopped down next to Steve, “You okay, pal?”

“I think I ruined my chances with Y/N,” he mumbled regretfully. 

“Ah yes. You kissed her. She kissed you. You started dry humping her and then she ditched. Way to go. You really do know how to deal with the ladies, pal.”

Steve punched his best friend in the arm, “This isn’t funny, Buck! I really like Y/N and I fucking blew it! Why the hell did I have to get plastered last night?!”

Sam groaned as he trudged over to the couch, “Too loud. No yelling,” he grumbled as he fell into one of the bean bags on the floor, “Why’re you yellin’ anyway?”

“He fucked up his chance with Y/N,” Bucky said with a smirk.

Sam snorted, “Was it the kiss or the dry humping?”

I WASN’T DRY HUMPING HER!” Steve yelled which made Sam whine. He pushed off the couch and marched towards the stairs, “I was gonna ask you two for help with apologizing to her and telling her how I feel but fuck you guys! You’re no help at all!” he purposefully stomped up every step of the way just to irritate Sam. 

The doorbell rang and Bucky got up with a grunt, and went over to open the door. An immediate smile appeared on his face, “Hey, Y/N.”

You shyly smiled at him, “Hey, Bucky. Um, is Steve here?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” Bucky faced the inside of the house, cupped his hands around his mouth, “Hey, Steve! Y/N’s here!”

Steve hollered back from downstairs, “THAT’S NOT FUNNY, BUCKY!”

“I’m serious, man! She’s here!” 

“YEAH RIGHT!”

“SHE’S REALLY HERE YOU DUMBASS! NOW GET DOWN HERE SO EVERYONE CAN STOP FUCKING YELLING!” Sam yelled from his seat in the bean bag. You couldn’t help but giggle at the hole affair. 

You heard hurried stomping upstairs and then Steve came bolting down the stairs towards you and Bucky, “Y/N!” he slid to a halt before you. 

“Um, hi, Steve.”

With small pants, he said, “Hi,” back.

Bucky pat his friend on the shoulder, “Weeeeell, I’ll leave you guys alone. Sam, you want a hangover special?”

“God, yes!”

Sam followed Bucky to the kitchen and you awkwardly chuckled, “So, uh, you wanted to talk?”

“Right, um, is it okay if we can do this in my room? I’d prefer the privacy.”

You nodded, “Sure,” you walked back into the house, surprised that it didn’t look completely trashed. 

“I cleaned up as soon as I woke up,” Steve stated as he walked up the stairs. 

“You seem fine for someone who claims to have a hangover,” you noted.

“It was bad when I woke up earlier. The headache and sound sensitivity has died down now. So I’m pretty much good. Can’t say the same for Sam or some of the others though.” 

He held the door to his room open for you and you walked in, immediately sitting down at his desk chair. After closing the door behind him, he walked over to his bed, sitting at the edge. He looked down at his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs around, “So, uh, I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk and I kissed you and it was uncalled for. And, well, the grinding thing. Everyone is saying I was dry humping you, but I don’t think I was. Was I?”

You awkwardly scrunched your face up, “You kinda were, Steve.”

He groaned and put his head in his hands, “God fucking-I’m so sorry, Y/N! I really-I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so gone and I guess my feelings for you plus the amount of alcohol I had brought that out in me and-”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean you’re so smart and funny and beautiful. The conversations we’ve had before and after class, they always make my days so much better. But I just had to fuck it up.” Steve fell back against his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

He heard the screech of his chair against the wooden floor and the padding of your feet towards him. He thought you were going to sit beside him, but no, you crawled on top of him, straddling his lap, which made him sit up.

“Y/N, wha-” you cupped Steve’s face and pressed your lips against his. This kiss was different from the last two. The last two was desperate and rushed. This one was soft and meaningful.

Steve wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over so that now he was on top and you were on the bed. Your hands pulled at the hem of his shirt and he broke the kiss, “Wait. Wait. So this,” he gestures between the two of you, “it’s mutual? You really like me too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Of course, I like you, Steve! I kissed you, didn’t I?”

“Well yeah, but-actually. I don’t know where I was going with this. I like you and you like me and now-now I wanna get naked with you.”

You laughed again, “Get naked with me? You sound like a child.” he gave you a shrug and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the ground. 

You sat up doing the same while Steve hopped off the bed, tugging off his sweats. He fell onto the floor whilst doing so which made you laugh. Hard. 

You curled up into a ball on his bed, clutching your stomach, “Y-You just-and you were-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Steve rolled his eyes and proceeded to kick off his pants, his boxers joining them. Then there he stood before you, naked as the day he was born, pouting, “This is not how our first time together is supposed to go!”

“I-I’m-I’m sorry! You-You just-AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Steve growled and he pounced on you, throwing his entire weight on top of you causing you to yelp. You tried pushing him off, but he took your wrists pinning them to the bed. His usual bright blue eyes were now a darker blue, “Baby girl, you better stop laughing. Right now.”

You pulled your lips in, trying not to laugh some more. You found this side of Steve incredibly sexy, but the fact that he fell on his ass a minute ago was just too funny. 

You found yourself giggling again and Steve pushed his bare hips down on your clothed ones, “Sweetheart, I ain’t gonna fuck ya if you keep laughing at me.”

You visibly gulped, swallowing down your laughter as you mustered out a “Sorry, Steve.”

His eyes softened then, “You good now?” when you nodded, Steve let go of you, “Good. Now let’s even out the playing field, shall we?” and he was back to your soft Steve again. Looks like you’ll have to explore that darker side of him later. 

With your pants somewhere on the floor, and your bra and underwear joining it, you were bare before Steve. Laying in his bed and looking like an angel. 

“Goddamn. I think I’m dreaming.” his hand went down to his hard cock, slowly stroking it. 

You bent your fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion and he proceeded to crawl closer to you, body hovering over yours as he bent down for a searing kiss. One hand ran down your body, while the other kept him up right. He kneaded at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your hardened nubs makin you moan into his lips. 

“I love those sounds of yours. Lemme hear them again,” he breathed against your lips as his hand traveled further down to your pussy, his fingers rubbing down onto your clit before moving further to your slick, “This okay?” he asked before going any further. 

You nodded, “More, Steve. Please.” 

Without a second thought, his middle finger dipped into your core. You were wet but not wet enough yet. He wanted to change that, “Can I taste you, sweetheart? Hm? Can I taste that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Oh fuck yes,” you breathed out. You could already feel yourself getting wetter just by Steve’s dirty talk. You didn’t expect this out of him at all. 

Steve spread your legs further before laying onto his stomach in-between them. His fingers began to tease you, running along your slit, rubbing slow, circles around your clit. It was nice, bu not what you wanted. 

“Steeeeve!” you whined, causing him to chuckle.

“It’s alright, Y/N. I hear ya.” he leaned him, licking a stripe up your slit, which resulted you letting out a sigh of relief. Finally getting to the good stuff. 

His fingers spread your pussy lips open and he delved in. His tongue licking up your sweet juices, the tip teasing your hole, and then going up to flick at your nub. 

Your hands went to his hair, gripping the blonde tresses in pleasure, tugging at them, causing Steve to moan into your heat. And it was a very sexy, animalistic moan. So...Steve’s got a hair pulling kink. Gotta add that to the list of surprising things you’re finding out about him. 

“God, Steve. You’re so good at that,” you moaned, eyes glancing down at the oh so wonderful sight before you. 

If someone told you that Steve Rogers, your semester long crush, would be naked and going down on you, two days ago, you’d call them crazy. The thought only seemed like a dream and now your dream has come true. And holy fuck is this so much better than you ever thought it would be. 

Your nails scraped against Steve’s scalp as his tongue occupied your clit, while a finger slipped into your hole. You pushed your head back against the mattress mumbling, “Holy fucking shit, Steve.”

You heard him chuckle as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue, “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, Y/N.” he gave you a wink and it made you whimper. 

“Steve, no more. I want you inside of me. Please.” you batted your eyes at him, hoping they’d give him the right affect. They did. 

He sat up, wiping your juices off his mouth, “You want it, huh?” he gripped his rock hard cock in his hand, “You want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, “Yes, please, Stevie,” you looked your legs around him, pulling him in, “so, so much.”

He smirked as he placed a hand by your head, holding him up. His other, still wrapped around his dick, “I can’t say no to you, Y/N.” he leaned in, teasing your clit with his tip. The precum spreading all over you. Steve’s hand on the mattress moved up more and reached for something under the pillow you were laying on. When he pulled away, he had a condom in hand. 

You gave him a questioning look and he simply shrugged, “Always gotta keep ‘em near.” he ripped the small package opening and then pulled the rubber out. He rolled it over his tip and then down his shaft. He tossed the wrapper somewhere and went back to business.

“Alright. You still wanna do this?” Still ever the considerate one, Steve.

“Fuck yes. Now come oooonn! I’ve been waiting for this since I saw you on the first day of class!”

Steve laughed as he bent over you, “Same here.” he pressed his lips to yours and at the same time, sheathed himself inside you. You gasped against his lips. This wasn’t the first time you’ve had sex, but Steve’s width was a lot different that the few previous people you’ve slept with. 

“You okay?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, “Mhm. Just been a while is all.”

“I’ll start slow,” he said before carefully pulling his hips back and then pushing them towards you, “Just tell me if you want me to go faster.” you nodded again, and his lips was on yours once more. 

He continued to give slow and careful thrusts. With every one, you became more used to the feeling of him and it became pleasurable. The feeling of his cock dragging against your pussy walls. His pubic bone pressing just enough pressure onto your clit to provide pleasure. But you wanted more now. You needed more now.

“Faster, Steve. Now. Want more now.”

“I got ya, baby. I got ya.” Steve took your legs and propped them over his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper inside you. 

You let out a loud moan as his thrusts became deeper and harder, “Fuck, Steve! Like that! Just like that!” the springs of the mattress creaked beneath you as Steve went hard. This was a feeling you never thought you’d experience with a guy like Steve. He was so smart, funny, considerate, but also handsome and sexy as hell. This has to be a dream. This has to be.

“Not a dream, baby. I’m all real.”

Your eyes widened, “Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckled, “Yeah. But it’s okay. You’re adorable.” 

“You’re adorable-r.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you said with a giggle and he groaned.

“That giggle drives me crazy. God, the times in class I’d hear it. Just made me wanna take you right there in front of everyone.”

You playfully scrunched your nose up in distaste, “Don’t think Fury would’ve appreciated it.”

“Yeah, probably not.” his hand snaked around to your clit, thumb brushing against it, rubbing it down, pinching it, “Wanna cum, Y/N? I wanna feel you cum.”

His pace quickened in tandem with the pace of his fingers. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air in his room as Steve fucked you hard. 

“Oh God, Steve!” you cried out, feeling pleasure you’ve never felt before. You could feel the tightening in your lower stomach. A coil ready to be released. 

“Come on, Y/N. Cum for me. Cum on my cock, beautiful. Lemme feel ya.”

You gripped at the sheets on his bed, your hold on them so tight that you felt like you’d rip a hole through them, “Fuck! I’m-Steve-I’m gonna cum!” You cried out his name, as your walls clenched down on him. That familiar wave of pleasure washing over you and taking over your body.

“Shit! God, Y/N! That’s it! Keep going! Good girl!” he cried out through gritted teeth. He was coming to his climax. Just a little more to go. He went as hard as he could now, helping you ride through your orgasm while chasing after his own. He wanted this. Needed this. 

“Hnnng, fuck! Y/N!” he gave two more thrusts and he stilled as his seed spilled into the condom, “Oh God!” he cried out, feeling the pleasure run through his body. He let himself have a few more thrusts before practically collapsing on top of you. 

His entire weight on you caused you to giggle, “Stevie, c’mon. Get off. I can barely breathe!” 

He groaned as he pulled out of you and rolled to the other side of you. He then took off the condom, tying it, and tossing it into the trash can next to his bed. 

You continued to lay there, limp and staring at the ceiling, “So...what now?”

“Well, two options. One, we cuddle and nap then when we wake up, we go for more rounds. Or two, we cuddle and nap and then when we wake up, I take you out on a date like I planned on doing months ago.”

You gigged as you rolled onto your side, facing him, “Number one sounds tempting, but I think I’m gonna have to go with number two.” 

Steve pulled you closer to him, arm wrapping around you, “Number two it is.”

_______________________________

Two hours later, you and Steve emerge from his room dressed to go out. As you walked down the stairs, Bucky, Sam, and a bunch of other guys in the frat were cheering and giving you two a round of applause. 

You hid your face into Steve’s chest, completely embarrassed at the fact that the entire house most likely heard you and Steve. 

Steve put a protective arm around you as he pushed his brothers away, “Hey! Knock it off, will ya?!”

Bucky appeared, clapping his hand onto his best friend’s shoulder, a proud smile on his face, “Congrats, Steve. You didn’t manage to fuck it up even more.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Thanks, Buck.”

“So you really humped her this time instead of going dry right?” Sam asked with a mischievous smirk.

“I DIDN’T,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “You know what? Fuck all you guys! I’m gonna go take my girlfriend out on a date!” he continued to push past his friends and walk out the door.

“So...I’m your girlfriend now?”

Steve scoffed, “After all we just did? Fuck yeah you’re my girlfriend! Now c’mon, girlfriend. I’m taking you out on the town!” he moved his arm to slip his hand in yours, smiling at you.

You smiled back, squeezing his hand, “Lead the way, boyfriend.”

Funny how a few games of beer pong led to this.

[arrowheadproductions]

Glad you're back and super excited you're extending your repertoire (if that's what you want to call it) to other fandoms aside from Arrow. I love your writing and I'm actually a huge PJO fan so I was soooo happy to see you're into it too. Can you possibly do a fic of Percy being on the swim team? You can include whatever ships you want (:

Yes! I love Percy Jackson and have for pretty much the past 10 years since I got into reading the books in middle school. It’s always held a soft spot in my heart as one of my favorite universes and I’m always open to writing about it. Anyway, without further adieu, here’s this little beauty (slightly suggestive themes, but nothing smutty/explicit)

Speedos- Rated T

Percy Jackson never ever saw himself as someone that would be considered a jock, but that all changed when he got to college.

I never believed I would ever, in my life, be at the top of the food chain in school. Sure, I’ve beaten Titans, Gods, and saved the world a few times, but I still never expected this luck would translate into my “real” life in the mortal world. 

This all changed when I got to college in California. I managed to squeak into UCSF after being on the waiting list forever while my girlfriend got a full ride to Berkeley. I’m still not sure how I got into school at all let alone a school that’s 45 minutes away from Annabeth. In case my life decides to resume its regularly scheduled dose of trouble, we’re both pretty close to Camp Jupiter and I have my car on campus. 

But anyway, my heart leapt in my chest the way it does when I’m hungry and finally getting dinner when I realized that California was stereotypically full of swimmers. And my school had a pretty good swim team that made you popular. The popularity thing isn’t a big deal for me, since I know who my friends are and don’t really need too many people in my life that I have to lie to or anything, but it was nice not being treated like gum on the bottom of people’s shoes.

Of course I made the team. I can breathe underwater. Do you know how much of an advantage that gives me? Before you accuse me of being cocky or conceited, just remember that I have been given one real gift in this world and this is it. 

I do take a breath for show every lap, which is still super impressive to the mortal eye, but also let’s them know them I’m not a robot or anything. 

That wasn’t to say there weren’t some steep competition. Some of these swimmers made me question if whether or not my father broke his pact more than once in recent years. They’re all super skilled and clearly have put in the work since they were little. So, I actually need to try if I want to earn my place. 

Everyone is pretty cool with me, though. They’ve all tried to ask who my trainer is and my records (that I don’t have), and very few are really buying that I’m just a normal dude that loves to swim. They’ve stopped pestering me though.

Oh Gods, there is one downside to swim team and that’s the actual suit. It squishes everything (and I do mean everything) all together to be on full and compact show for everyone to see. It leaves very little to the imagination and resembled really ugly panties. 

I made a pretty big mistake of mentioning this to Annabeth one Friday night she was staying over in my dorm. My roommate actually ended up being a Gorgon, who I had to smite during orientation (boo!). So, I got my own room (yay!). 

“It can’t be that bad.” She called from outside the bathroom, though I could hear trying to stifle her amusement.

“I’m not coming out.”

“C’mon, Seaweed Brain. I’m going to have to see you in it tomorrow at the meet anyway and that’ll be in public.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” I grumbled. 

Everyone is coming to my first meet tomorrow: Annabeth, Mom, Paul, Grover, Hazel, Piper, Leo, Jason, Frank, Nico, Tyson, and even Chiron. My old Latin teacher is about to see me in in tight, glorified tidy whities and a swim cap. 

“You’re never going to want to see me, let alone touch me, again after you see me in this thing.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” She said dryly. “I’ve seen you in a toga, remember?”

It took about 30 more minutes to convince me to come out and honestly, my growling stomach had a lot to do in the efforts. She played to my weaknesses and I was finally coaxed to exit the bathroom and likely embarrass myself in front of my girlfriend.

When the door flew open, she did the decent thing and looked at my face first, which I appreciated, but my face was likely the color of a firetruck, which made her eyes wander downwards. When she caught sight of the navy atrocity that left very little to the imagination, her eyes went wide like silver moons and a deep blush flushed to her cheeks and neck. 

She shifted awkwardly as she choked down a laugh. “That’s not… so bad.”

I felt like I was on fire and couldn’t meet her gaze. “You better just be laughing at the swimsuit.”

This time, her eyebrows shot to her hairline before she threw her head back and actually laughed. 

I immediately turned on my heels, determined to swim in a full wetsuit tomorrow. I even considered wearing one under all of my clothes until Annabeth used her quick reflexes to grab my hand before I could go.

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“You could have fooled me.”

She pulled me close so our chests were pressed against each other. I could feel my skin getting hot for a whole different reason. She stopped laughing, but her eyes still sparkled with merriment. 

“It’s a bad suit, but everyone looks funny in them.”

I couldn’t find it in me to be annoyed with her while she was very pressed against me and her hands stroked over my shoulders approvingly. She cupped my face and brought my head down in a slow kiss.

“It makes your butt look good though.” She said in between the kisses she layered down my jaw. I stood paralyzed like a big dumb dope, because I’m so gone for her.

“Everyone’s going to laugh at me.” Though this was becoming less of a worry or fear as she worked her way down my neck.

“Probably.” 

“You’re full of encouraging words.”

She chuckled against my skin and I swear all of the blood left my head.

“In my defense, I’m trying to stop talking.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her in disbelief. I was still adjusting to this aspect of our relationship, which was still relatively new to us. In baseball terms, our senior year of high school brought us around the bases whenever we were alone together for too long, lingering quite a bit at second and third. This summer at camp had officially taken us to home plate. It still amazed me every time that she liked me this way.

“Really? But it’s a hideous suit.”

“Yeah.” She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You should take it off.”

And that was how I’d come to terms with the worst part of swimming. Everyone did laugh at me. A lot. But, I rewarded them all with a “spontaneous splash” when I dove into the water. Everyone that didn’t already know was wondering how I managed to do that with a regular dive. 

“He did that on purpose.” Grumbled Jason. 

“Why wouldn’t he? I’d be embarrassed to wear that too.” Frank said emphatically.

“It’s not that bad.” Annabeth tried.

“Oh yeah?” Leo asked. “What’s that on your neck?”

I could feel her glare from across the gym and tried my best not to laugh. 

I got over the judgment when I took first in my 500 IM. I swear I’ve never heard my mom cheer so loud in her life. Then again, I never gave her much reason to growing up since I sucked at all other sports and never exactly made scholastic decathlons. Grover accidentally bleated a few times, but the others were kind enough to try and cover it with whistles and whoops. 

“Yeah Percy!” Piper cheered as they all stood to their feet.

“Leave it to the son of the sea God to win a swimming race.” Jason smirked. 

“I think you’re just jealous that Quidditch isn’t a thing so you don’t get an advantage.” Teased Nico.

“Quidditch actually is a thing.” Annabeth said. “You just don’t fly.”

Hazel struggled to see. “Frank, I told you not to sit in front of me!”

“Sorry…” He said awkwardly.

“Does he get a medal?” Leo asked.

“Do you think he’ll let me eat the medal?” Grover tried.

“No way!” Sally nudged him. “I’m hanging that up in my house forever.”

I grinned as I reached over the lanes to shake hands with the other swimmers beside me. I ripped off my cap and shook my shaggy black hair. I was getting used to actually being wet unlike when I went swimming at camp or on adventures.

I slipped on a pair of trunks over my speedo like most of the other guys do (except some who are strangely proud) before making my way over to the stands. Grover clapped my back and Annabeth leaned over the rails to kiss me before complaining that I tasted like chlorine. My mom ruffled my hair while Paul winked at me in pride.

My teammates were excited too and lifted me on their shoulders since we won the meet. They dumped me in the water, of course, but that was hardly a punishment.

I loved college.

[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW23

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Diego Rico

IN: Jack Stephens

I feel naked and alone without my Spanish lover Rico in my team anymore but it simply had to be so. I'm floating a transfer again this week and just doing a move to give me another cheapo defender who I can rotate. As shouted on the pod at 4.3 Jack seems like a good piece to have at the back until WC with their fixtures and strong underlying defensive numbers. There were certainly other more flair moves I could do but with two Livp in I am valuing the flexibility afforded with two frees ahead of their double to make a final decision about who to get in as the third and who to remove as well.

GK:

Schmeichel (bur)

Woodman the eternal continues to never let me down the legend.

Schmike, on the other hand, suddenly finds himself positioned between a goal frame, a sieve, and the enemy. Still too early to tell if no Ndidi just means they are diabolical but Burnley have been among the worst attacks in the division recently and no Smashley kinda fucks up their balance a lot.

Could see them snap back into form and just dispatch these in an easy win to nil. Hoping for it, anyway.

DEF:

Pereira (bur)

Somehow I still have Periera. He's been by far by farrrrr my worst transfer of the season but I always seem to find a reason to hold on to him and start him. It seems extremely unlikely he is in past this weekend so maybe he'll give me a farewell gift.

Alexander-Arnold (MUN)

Trent goes again nothing to say about that. Only guy I've had since GW1...well other than Woodman of course that sweet boy.

Stephens (WOL)

Jack new friend is put straight into the fire with home Wolves. Not a good on paper fixture but I could kinda see a clean here? Maybe? Not an ideal start, but he's the best option I have and when weighing him up against the other 4.4 defenders and under it looked like his near term fixtures were the best in how he can rotate with what else I've got.

Lundstram (ars)

Lastly is Pointstram.

Another not too great feeling start but also not too bad without Aubz.

Hard to imagine where an Arsecast goal can come from other than a p3p3ga set piece banger or something like this. Don't really feel like Wilder will have any trouble marking Laca out of the game. Pointstram also eye test wise looked a lot more involved in their attack last game so maybe that is a sign of things to come.

MID:

Martial (liv)

Unfortunately I'm going to have to eat a Tony M start here at Anfield. Feels not good but I still like him as a medium term hold despite the mixed fixtures.

Still don't really have any confidence that I know what a "good" fixture is for United attack anyway so I'm just blindly following the mantra of he's playing OOP striker on a top six team so he's a hold.

De Bruyne (CRY)

Kevin up against my boys this weekend we'll see if he's at DM or not. Don't really care though, honestly.

Salah (MUN)

Third mid is Mo. Good lad.

FWD:

Maupay (AVL)

Is this the weekend of Neal? Please Neal be a good Neal one time my son.

Scenic fixture...time to capitalize...or take 1 shot and blank again as per.

I want Neal to give me a sign of life so badly because I would really still like to hold him for the near term through these fixtures. Big game for him and I'll be watching him closely.

Vardy (bur)

Vardz still in there. Whatever.

Agüero (CRY)

Kun off his monster haul good job by Kun love Kun so much.

CAP:

Vardy (bur)

Sticking with Vardz as shouted on the pod.

I've really not gone to the Vardy cap well too often this season but he just seems like a very strong option against a really bad team with two really bad CBs and a really bad GK. I'd honestly be surprised if he doesn't double return.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: N/A

IN: N/A

When in doubt float your fuckin’ transfer...

I had a really brutal week and especially today, Friday, long and tough day.

No idea what I want to do but having two frees and a boatload of cash for next week seems really fun / good.

I’ll probably get rocked in the Cup this week by fuckin Wiscker by just rolling the same crew out again after last week’s bloodbath but maybe with my two frees and a pocket full of change I can roar back in the final two group matches and go through... It works out in my head at least...

GK:

Ryan (AVL)

Great fixture and a great fixture run so come on Mat gimme some points.

DEF:

van Dijk (MUN)

Everything says that this should be an easy Liverpool win and an easy Liverpool clean but who knows it’s still a derby...

United are absolutely terrible on set plays they have conceded the third most in the league and Liverpool have scored the tied for second most int he league so make of that what you will... VVDue? VVDong?

Söyüncü (bur)

Hoping for a Soy redemption song this week after that very sloppy mess of a match lass week... Burnley are very much there for the taking so go on SoyBoy.

Lundstram (ars)

I sleeper think that this is a great fixture... ok maybe great is an exaggeration because it’s not a ~banker~ but with how Arsenal’s been playing lately - very few shots and not much xG or sustained attack - plus no Aubz it just seems very cleanable and winnable for Sheff U from where I’m sitting. 

MID:

Salah (MUN)

Funny cheeky little interview he gave. Mo’s a good guy.

De Bruyne (CRY)

Easy keep.

Maddison (bur)

Time for a bounce-back from Leicester no fucking around. Maddo was such a steady tick merchant for me back in the good ole days I just want to taste that success again.

Sarr (tot)

Not a good fixture but definitely not a bad one either.

Sarr and Watty have been looking fabulous and will cause Spurs tons of problems for me.

Cantwell (BOU)

Lastly going for Big Todd Energy over Jiménez this week (feel free to thank me Jim owners) becaaaauuuuuseeeee just I don’t know gut feeling and shit.

Jim has been an extremely upsetting transfer in for me and I shouted Wolves being tired and bad and then they go out and lose to Man. Utd. in the cup with Jim playing the full 90′.

Also Jim has away Southampton which is now a really rough fixture so whatever I’m going for it here... Todd should fuck Eddie’s Bourney.

FWD:

Only the two FWDs for me this week since I’m benching Jimboy.

Vardy (bur)

Another in my triple leicester to bounce back -- what a chance for it !

Calvert-Lewin (whu)

I still believe in DCL and I had to defend the pick a little bit here and there this week and honestly it just made me feel better about it. And the fixture is fantastic. DCL gonna bang.

CAP:

Vardy (bur)

Just don’t really have another option who I think is nearly as good a cap. pick as Vardz is this week and it’s as simple as that...

If it’s close then maybe you go differential cap but if it’s not close I think you just cap the guy who everyone else is capping. Here we are.

Soz for a not exciting Lambs from me this week lol.

—

RANDOM SLACKER OF THE WEEK: dave (group 19)

The words of Random Slacker are not officially endorsed by this website nor any employees of FML FPL LLC.

TRANSFERS:

DISCLAIMER: I AM VERY BAD AT FPL AND YOU SHOULD NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAY!

Fun fact: I was the person who suggested random slacker lambs earlier in the season to the pod bois. That was a time when my team was ticking along and I was optimistic about rising up the ranks over the course of the season.

Now I am in the depths of darkness and have zero expectations for my team other than red arrows and I am bad and shit at FPL and you shouldn’t even bother reading this because I’m shit. Unless you want to feel better about yourself, that is (I’m 1.5m so if you’re lower than that then I’m truly sorry – you’ll probably overtake me soon).

At least I have the FML FPL Cup to focus all my energy on. Speaking of which...

To my opponent this week, Rob, and the rest of Group 19, Jon and Max: Fuck you. I’m going to destroy you. I don’t care about my OR anymore. This is all that matters to me. (Jk prob will get 0 points and crash out in the group stage – good luck lads).

OUT: Serge Aurier

IN: Lewis Dunk

I have 2FTs but I’m just going for a fairly passive and hopefully more sensible move. When Mou became Spuds’ manager I had hopes that the defence would significantly improve (I even doubled up on their defence – oops), but alas they are still shipping goals for fun and now the child Tanganga is in the mix potentially threatening Aurier’s minutes after a decent right back performance mid-week. So just fucking him off to a similarly priced guy with good fixtures for the foreseeable future, on a team that actually appears to be capable of keeping the occasional clean sheet.

Going to roll the other FT to give me a little more flexibility next GW to increase my share of Liverpool players to at least 2. Probably will take a hit to get up to 3.

GK:

Guaita (mci)

Probably the worst fixture of the season for a defender or GK; City have several potent, in-form attacking options and could easily put up 4 or 5 (albeit Palace have been fairly solid for large portions of the season).

Just hoping Victor Vincente can pick up some some save points, a Kun pen save or two would be very welcome as a non-owner…

DEF:

Dunk (AVL)

Brighton looking very good this season generally under Graham Potter and cleaning the odd game here and there. Decent chance for one against an out of sorts Villa. Go on new friend Lewis.

Söyüncü (bur)

Soyboy has been a staple of my team for quite some time. Leicester always a shout for a clean. However, Burnley are one of those teams where I can never predict how they’re going to perform week to week, so I’m not banking on a clean by any means.

Sidibe (whu)

Difficult to predict how this one will go as West Ham are still a bit of an unknown quantity to me under new / old manager Moyseh.

Sidibe is the guy I’ll likely transition into a Liverpool defender next week but maybe he gets another go at RW this week with Richarlison confirmed out. Would be nice to get some OOP attacking farewell returns from him.

MID:

De Bruyne and Sterling (CRY)

Should just be a fuckfest for City (soz Walsh). Raz getting fairly frustrating to own but I’m keeping the faith for now.

Mané (MUN)

Another one of those games that you never know what to expect. Even while United were the dominant English team and Liverpool were complete piss, they always seemed to be able to show up for this match and up results. Could the shoe be on the other foot now? After all Utd are the only team Liverpool haven’t beaten so far this season in the PL. But I digress. Mane is obviously an auto-start in any fixture and Liverpool are the clear favourites in this one for good reason.

Maddison (bur)

He’s an absolute cunt imo. Very punchable face too. But he has undoubtedly been a very good FPL pick this season thus far. So go on James.

FWD:

Calvert-Lewin (whu)

2 blanks on the trot but I’m not too worried. Still think he’s great, Carlo loves him and the price is right.

Abraham (new)

Tammy back in the points lately so feels fine to hold for now. Fixtures turning to shit imminently so possibly one to monitor and maybe move on soon.

Vardy (bur)

Earlier in the season I was looking at Vardy’s stats vs. goals/assists output; I convinced myself it was unsustainable and that he would “revert to the mean” (that’s something us wankers who have no fucking clue about how underlying stats translate into FPL points say to kid ourselves that we know what we’re talking about).

It’s now clear that he is just a guy who you hold indefinitely because his points continue to roll in week after week after week.

CAP:

Sterling (CRY)

Call me an idiot.

Call me a glutton for punishment.

I capped Raz last week thinking he might just be a stroke of genius differential pick. Needless to say, that went poorly (0 mins with DCL VC, RIP). But fuck it. He goes again. I love Raz. Raz is great. He’s due – isn’t he?

Ultimately I’m just a guy who wants to get some fucking points on the board. Wish me luck.

[thrashermaxey]

Weekend power rankings: Counting down my worst rankings of the season (so far)

We’re​ getting into that​ time​ of​ year​ when​ power​ rankings start​ to lock in​ from week-to-week. A team​ might​ still occasionally have​​ an especially good or bad week and move a spot or two, and every now and then a dark horse will make a surprise charge down the homestretch. But generally, once we get past the trade deadline and close in on the 70-game mark, there really isn’t much reason to make big changes to what we have. Spoiler alert: The Lightning are in first place again this week.

Before we can start looking at our Stanley Cup and draft lottery hopefuls, let’s take a look back with a different kind of top five: My five worst rankings from this season.

I’ll pause here so you can all make your “How did you narrow it down?” jokes.

It’s true that in one sense, we’ve got plenty of candidates to choose from. In all, there have been 15 teams that have made at least one appearance in the top five, and 13 that have made an appearance in the bottom (including one team that showed up in both). That’s a lot, more than in any previous season I’ve been doing this. It’s been a volatile season. Or maybe some of the picks have just been bad.

To be honest, I don’t think anything stands out as an embarrassingly awful call; it’s not like there was some week that had Tampa in the bottom five or the Kings as a Cup contender. But that’s a low bar and let’s just say that some of those picks hold up better than others. Today we’re going to take our medicine and own up to five of the worst:

5. Arizona Coyotes ranked No. 1 in the bottom five (Oct. 5) – The Coyotes might end up making the playoffs and at one point I thought they were the odds-on favorite to finish dead last. That’s not a great look, although in this case, it comes with a pretty decent excuse: The season was just a few days old. We even called that week’s rankings the “way-too-early edition.” The Coyotes had started 0-2-0 so they were probably as good a pick as anyone; within a few weeks they’d made their exit from the bottom five to great fanfare, never to return. But for one week at least, I thought they’d be worse than the Senators, Red Wings or Kings. They were not.

4. Colorado Avalanche ranked No. 4 in the top five (Dec. 3) – “I’ve never fully bought into the Avalanche. I still don’t, if I’m being honest.” Good for you, past me, but you still let a hot streak mislead you into ranking them as the fourth-best team in the league. This one only lasted a week, but it doesn’t hold up well and unlike with the Coyotes, I can’t claim the “it was early” excuse.

3. Buffalo Sabres ranked No. 5 in the top five (Nov. 26) – Of all the teams to crack the top five this year, none will finish lower than the Sabres in the final standings. In that sense, no call was more wrong than this one.

If that’s the case, why not rank it higher? For one thing, the Sabres only showed up in the top five once, at the tail end of that ten-game winning streak. That stretch had briefly elevated Buffalo to first place overall, and yet I only had them fifth that week. More importantly, my writeup was packed with caveats, like that their top-five case “is far from iron-clad” and that this is “probably the only chance to slide them into the top five” and “Will it last? Maybe not.” Reading it all these months later, I half-expected to go back and see that the first letter of every line spelled out “I don’t actually believe this ranking.” But I still made it, so I’ll own it. (But do check out the comments that week from furious Sabres fans who insist I’m short-changing them by ranking them below the Lightning.)

2. St. Louis Blues ranked in the bottom five (five weeks total, as late as Dec. 10) – I have to include this one, especially since it lasted over a month. But the funny thing was that at the time, nobody thought I was wrong. If anything, it became a running joke that Blues fans were mad that I was going easy on them (they dipped as low as No. 3 for a few weeks). As I wrote on Dec. 10, “something big has to be coming in St. Louis.” I was right, just not in the way I thought I was.

1. Minnesota Wild in the top five (for three straight weeks beginning on Nov. 12) – The Wild aren’t as bad as the Sabres and might finish ahead of the Avalanche too. But what stands out here is how long I had them listed – three weeks in all, with them drifting as high as third after a big win over the Jets. And I can’t even fall back on hedging my bets when I wrote about them, because I was saying things like “Yeah, it’s probably time to start taking them seriously” and “Honestly, (fifth spot) is probably too low for the Wild.”

They were playing well at the time, going 10-2-0 at one point, but it was a stretch powered largely by red-hot goaltending from Devan Dubnyk. He eventually cooled down and then got hurt to start an extended cold streak. I couldn’t have seen an injury coming, but I was too eager to buy into the Wild as a legitimate Central favorite instead of what they were: a decent team that can sometimes look like more than that when the goalie is hot and they’re getting some breaks.

OK, I feel better. Now onto this week’s ratings, which I assure you are all 100 percent accurate. (Unless they’re not, in which case, uh, it was still too early.)

Road to the Cup

The five teams that look like they’re headed towards a summer of keg stands and fountain pool parties.

One big story to watch in the final month: The Colorado Avalanche are going to have to make their playoff push without Gabriel Landeskog, who’s out four-to-six weeks with an upper-body injury. That timeline means he could be back early in the playoffs and there’s a slight chance he could return before the end of the season. But as Ryan Clark wonders, by that point will it still matter?

5. Washington Capitals (41-21-7, +22 true goals differential*) – Screw it, I’m back on board.

The Capitals showed up in our very first top five, then vanished for two months before reappearing in December. They hung around for five weeks, reaching as high as the two-spot on New Year’s Eve even as I wrote that the ranking “seems a little high.” Now, after two weeks of winning pushed them back into top spot in the Metro, they seem like as good a pick as any out of a crowded top-five field.

Or maybe not. You might prefer the Jets, who have a decent case even though they lost in Washington last night. But the Jets look to have a tougher road out of the Central than what the Caps will have in the Metro and that matters too. For the same reason, I can’t talk myself into Nashville. The post-Stone trade Golden Knights? They’ve looked great at times, but the top of the Pacific is very tough and they’re locked into third. The Islanders are still at least in the mix, but I’d rather know more about the Robin Lehner injury before I get them back near the top five. And the Leafs somehow haven’t shown up here in eight weeks even as they’re tied for second in the league in wins.

It’s a tough call. But this is about who’s going to win the Cup, and when in doubt, deferring to the defending champs doesn’t seem like a bad way to break the tie. For this week, at least.

4. Boston Bruins (42-18-9, +35) – Figuring out where to rank the Bruins is really getting interesting. On the one hand, you could make a very strong case that they’re the second-best team in the NHL. Last night’s loss aside, I’m not even sure you’d get much pushback from anyone. That means they should be ranked second, right?

But this isn’t a “best teams” list. It’s “most likely to win the Cup,” and that means that having the best team in the league in your division is bad news. Without going into the whole playoff format debate again, the Bruins’ path out of the Atlantic is brutal, and unlike the next two teams on the list, there’s no hope of improving it down the stretch.

>> Read the full post at The Athletic

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from All About Sports http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DownGoesBrown/~3/3pRg6MRLRag/weekend-power-rankings-counting-down-my.html

[skerbango-blog]

Fan-dumb

By T3

Hello all!  This is my quest to make APTOBS a sports blog!  I know that you all have an affinity for sports, as most of us met over at the dong blog debating sports topics of the day.  Most of you live in or near cities that have either a major professional sports team, or at the very least, minor league or major college sports.  Living where I live, there are no real professional sports teams here or even a decent drive away (the closest for the longest time was the Québec Nordiques, now the Colorado Avalanche of the NHL).  That made the team you liked in each of the major sport wide open.

  I will talk about the teams for which I am a fan and why later, but it is funny how we came to enjoy these teams with none around.  There are a few theories - one is the ‘my Dad/Mom/family cheers/has always cheered for team X’. Being in Canada, this tends to hold true for hockey fans.  In this area, it means that there are many Montréal Canadiens fans. I am not a huge hockey fan (sacrilege!), but I do reserve the right to punch these people in the face.  Les Habitants are steeped in tradition and have an unhealthy amount of self-importance and worth, not unlike the Yankees or Cowboys fans.

Now, knowing that kids are inherently weird, the second theory is one that Bill Simmons puts forth on his podcasts and (when he used to write) columns:  kids are bandwagon-jumping frontrunners. If there is a dominant, popular team, then they cheer for them. Because they win! Makes sense to me. It is admittedly more difficult to get upset with a 10 year old who enjoys the Golden State Warriors because they win and one of their best players looks like he could be their buddy.  I am speaking, of course, of Zaza Pachulia.

The third, and worst, way to choose a team is the ‘I like their jerseys/mascots’ person.  The age range here swings wildly - from the office secretary who always wins March Madness by choosing the ‘cutest mascots’ to the dude who like the ‘all black’ jerseys that some teams use.  I am dubious of the person who cheers for a team on this premise, as they are the ones more likely to jump from team to team depending on the latest trends in fashion.

Of course, this is how I came to choose the team I cheer for the most…the Seattle Seahawks.  Let me give some background…it was November 27th, 1980….American Thanksgiving. I was getting home from school and I turned on the TV to see the end of the Cowboys kicking the crap out of the hapless Seahawks.  Young me liked the silver, blue and green jerseys, and when Jim Zorn threw a garbage-time touchdown to someone named Ron Essink (editor’s note - I always thought this was to Steve Largent, at least it is when I tell the story) I knew who my team was.  I never imagined it would still be my team, having to explain how someone from Atlantic Canada likes a team from the Pacific Northwest.  I pull out this story as well when people think I was a bandwagon-jumper on the Legion of Boom/Russell Wilson heyday teams (it also put me into the ‘punch in the face’ category of teams).

https://www.pro-football-reference.com/boxscores/198011270dal.htm

Baseball?  Growing up, it was Les Expos.  All the way. Most people outside of Ontario were pro-Montréal.  We did like the Blue Jays, but we were closer to Montréal and thus had more of a chance to actually see these guys play.  Both teams were featured on non-cable TV, so that was a treat to turn on CBC or CTV and watch. 1994 was a tough year, of course, when that team looked like it was well on its way to a World Series, but there were other close calls, too.  This one is most painful, known forever as ‘Blue Monday’, in 1981:

The Blue Jays, slowly but surely, were becoming ‘Canada’s team’ once they were regularly competitive/making the playoffs.  I won’t forget being in a bar the night that Dave Winfield drove in the winning run against the Braves, and then watching the final out and having the place go crazy:

Basketball and hockey were also very weird for me - the Raptors were just a gleam in Michael Crichton’s eye, so we Canucks had a variety of teams we could follow.  I did like the 80s Celtics (kid bandwagon theory) but watching the NBA highlight shows on Saturdays I started to like the Denver Nuggets. There was a little of the jersey enjoyment (I mean, how could you NOT enjoy their mountain-range beauties?)  My first real jersey purchase was a Mutombo practice jersey bought in Bangor (shout out Clyde!) My favourite player, though, was Alex English. He won a scoring title before the Jordan Era kicked in, scoring mostly on highly-inefficient medium-range jumpers.  If you look closely, he is my avatar:

  Now, as for hockey….well, it is complicated.  This was the one, as a kid, that people would debate and go nuts.  Most of the bandwagon kids enjoyed the….shocker….Edmonton Oilers. This was in their full dynasty, with Gretzky, Kurri, Fuhr, Coffey…they were easily the best.  We all collected hockey cards, of course, and the jerseys were always so cool. I decided that I liked the Washington Capitals the best. They stunk for a very very long time, but I enjoyed the stars on the jerseys and the hockey-stick ‘L’ in the logo (I could actually draw it).  Look at this beauty (sans helmet as well):

Now that I have my own kids, they cheer for the Bruins (causing many people to want to strike me for letting an 11 year old like them) and the Penguins (bandwagon theory again, but with the local hero Sidney Crosby so it makes it easier…although that punch is getting loaded up…).  My enjoyment of the Caps would come and go, and although I was happy to see them finally win a Cup, it would have been the most Caps thing ever for them to lose to an expansion team in the finals.

So, that is how I came to be a Seahaws/Blue Jays/Nuggets/Capitals fan living in Atlantic Canada.  I trust that your stories are as varied and interesting as well, feel free to leave them in the comment section of this fine blog.

[flauntpage]

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final

So you're not a fan of the Washington Capitals or Vegas Golden Knights, huh? You don't have any interest in watching them play for a championship, huh? Stanley Cup Final ratings year after year indicate the neutral observer would rather watch Scrubs reruns than a game involving two teams he or she doesn't care about but maybe that's because nobody has given you a compelling case to hop on a bandwagon.

This year's Super Bowl involved the New England Patriots and Philadelphia Eagles, which was like choosing between watching your parents ripped apart by bears or Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull; no matter what happened, you were going to be irrevocably psychologically damaged. With the Capitals and Golden Knights, we get to pick between two likable teams looking to cap off unexpected championship seasons.

The only proper way to decide your allegiances is to look at what the Capitals and Knights offer and hitching your wagon to the team you want to call your own for a couple weeks. Let's break down each team in some very important categories that were not chosen specifically as vessels for jokes. How dare you even think that?

THE CITIES

On one hand you have Washington, a city without any casinos, sports books or a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have Las Vegas, which hasn't shut down since it opened.

Which is better? Each city is a place filled with people looking to hustle you out of your hard-earned money but at least Las Vegas gives you free booze while they do it.

THE DOUCHEBAGS

On one hand you have Tom Wilson, a player without any conscience, regard for human life or the power to keep his city's mass transit system running after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have... James Neal? He did knee Brad Marchand in the head that one time. Alex Tuch wore a border control costume this Halloween, which is extremely douchey.

Which douchebag is bigger? Wilson has run more people into the ground than a sadistic cross country coach and doesn't seem to give two shits about it, so it's another easy answer.

THE BELEAGUERED STARS WITH SOMETHING TO PROVE

Alex Ovechkin has taken the blame for everything wrong with Washington since he arrived in 2005. The playoff failures, the participation banners hung in the arena, Nicklas Backstrom's failures, the outdoor game uniforms, government shutdowns, Kirk Cousins' contract situation and departure, the lack of a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down, Dan Snyder's existence and the Capitals' lack of a Stanley Cup. With four more wins, Ovechkin can play the rest of his career and chase the all-time goals record in peace.

Marc-Andre Fleury has three championships—one as a starter, one as a backup, and one as a helper—but was cast aside in Pittsburgh after last season when Matt Murray took his job and made him expendable. Fleury was the scapegoat for the Penguins' failures between 2010 and 2013, which means a Conn Smythe Trophy and Stanley Cup would complete his redemption story.

Who is more worthy of your love? Fleury lost his job fair and square in Pittsburgh and come on, he has three Cups. Ovechkin has zero and who knows if he ever gets this far again. You should be pulling very hard for Ovechkin.

FAN BASES MOST UPSET BY THE OUTCOME

If the Capitals finally win a Cup, the most pissed off people will be Penguins fans and Rangers fans; Penguins fans have forged an identity through laughing at the Capitals and that will go away completely. Rangers fans have the goaltending version of Ovechkin, and if the real Ovechkin wins a Cup, that shines (an equally dumb and unfair) spotlight on Henrik Lundqvist's lack of a Cup.

If the Golden Knights win a Cup in their first season, it will piss off [Gary Oldman in The Professional voice] EVERYONE. I believe it should be something to be celebrated by everyone but I know it won't be. Fans across North America will spend the offseason wandering the streets, lost, confused, muttering to themselves about a rigged expansion draft.

Which is better for you? This really comes down to how much you hate the Penguins and Rangers, which, based on my online experience, is a lot. If you have those fans in your life, sure, I get why you want them to suffer. But what's best for everyone is chaos, and that's what Vegas winning the Cup will provide. This decision is between you and your heart.

CANADA'S LEVEL OF ANGER

If Canada can no longer hold the whole no Cups thing over Ovechkin, the nation may collapse. The Ovechkin Isn't A Winner takes make up 45 percent of the Canadian economy and there's no telling what a collapse like that will do to the global markets. Does Don Cherry have enough money saved in the event of an Ovechkin Take Crisis?

It's been 25 years since a Canadian franchise has hoisted the Cup and there's no telling what a first-year franchise in a desert community winning it will do to Canada. My guess is Canada is so numb to losing the Cup every year that the acceptance of American hockey dominance happened a long time ago and they won't even feel it when Deryk Engelland takes the Cup from Gary Bettman.

Which is better for you? I lean toward Ovechkin winning the Cup, because it will lead to a whole bunch of people apologizing or inventing new crazy takes to survive. "Ovechkin has one Cup... but he should have more!" "Ovechkin's Cup came against an expansion team, and that's why it shouldn't count!" There's way more upside to a Capitals championship.

SHIT YELLED DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

During the sacred ritual that is singing America's theme song before a sports game, each teams' fans scream one of the lyrics during home games. In Vegas, it's "gave proof through the KNIGHT" because of the Golden Knights and in Washington it's "rockets' RED glare" because the Capitals have the color red in their uniforms. So when Seattle joins the league and becomes the Vampire Wolves, they will go with, "At the TWILIGHT'S last gleaming."

Which is better? Neither! What are you people doing? Either sing the entire song from start to finish or keep your traps shut. Every fan base is looking for some gimmick during the anthem and they are all stupid. Rangers fans mumble a disorganized "LET'S GO RANGERS" and Jets fans scream "TRUE NORTH" during "O Canada" to honor the corporation that owns the Jets, which seems like a gag they'd do on Silicon Valley at Hooli. How long before Flyers fans start yelling "BROAD stripes" at home games? This is a PUSH (I was listening to Matchbox Twenty while writing this).

PREGAME ARENA SHOWS

Vegas offers a free Medieval Time show before every game where a fancy knight on skates has a sword fight with a person or something like a jet plane. I have no idea what even happens in Washington. Does a guy dress like Ben Franklin and read from the Constitution? Who cares?

Which is better? Unless the Capitals get some dudes with muskets shooting at each other, this is a no-brainer.

TEAM SLOGANS

It's #ALLCAPS vs #VegasBorn in what has to be the dorkiest hashtag matchup in Final history. Of course you're "Vegas Born"—your team was born in Vegas. What sort of lazy-ass slogan is that? What stops any other team from doing this? I guess all the relocating. Yeah, that's the answer to that question. I take it back.

Which is better? All earnest hashtags are bad. That's the lesson here.

WHICH OUTCOME IS FUNNIER

The Capitals finally getting a Cup with what is objectively a worse team than they had the previous two years is hilarious. Barry Trotz pooped all over Kevin Shattenkirk this season and essentially blamed him for the Capitals' losing in the second round last year and it turns out maybe he had a point. Braden Holtby was so bad that he wasn't even the starter when the playoffs began and now he has a chance at winning the Conn Smythe. There are a lot of laughs packed into a potential Washington victory.

But the Golden Knights winning it all in their first year is the Monty Python and the Holy Grail (or whatever movie you find really funny, I don't care) of sports comedy. You won't ever laugh like this in your life. Literally nobody—not me, not you, not team owner Bill Foley—thought this was possible and now the Knights are favorites in the Cup Final.

And this last answer is all that matters. You should be pulling for Vegas. Thinking about every NHL GM staring at his TV as Brayden McNabb hands the Cup to Luca Sbisa, who hands it to Ryan Reaves, who hands it to Colin Miller, who hands it to Jonathan Marchessault and Reilly Smith at the same time, who put down the Cup and hold up a sign that reads, "THANK YOU DALE" is something too good to pass up.

There's plenty to enjoy about a Caps win but nothing in the history of hockey will be more pleasurable than the Vegas Golden Knights being crowned Stanley Cup champs.

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports CA.

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final

So you’re not a fan of the Washington Capitals or Vegas Golden Knights, huh? You don’t have any interest in watching them play for a championship, huh? Stanley Cup Final ratings year after year indicate the neutral observer would rather watch Scrubs reruns than a game involving two teams he or she doesn’t care about but maybe that’s because nobody has given you a compelling case to hop on a bandwagon.

This year’s Super Bowl involved the New England Patriots and Philadelphia Eagles, which was like choosing between watching your parents ripped apart by bears or Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull; no matter what happened, you were going to be irrevocably psychologically damaged. With the Capitals and Golden Knights, we get to pick between two likable teams looking to cap off unexpected championship seasons.

The only proper way to decide your allegiances is to look at what the Capitals and Knights offer and hitching your wagon to the team you want to call your own for a couple weeks. Let’s break down each team in some very important categories that were not chosen specifically as vessels for jokes. How dare you even think that?

THE CITIES

On one hand you have Washington, a city without any casinos, sports books or a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have Las Vegas, which hasn’t shut down since it opened.

Which is better? Each city is a place filled with people looking to hustle you out of your hard-earned money but at least Las Vegas gives you free booze while they do it.

THE DOUCHEBAGS

On one hand you have Tom Wilson, a player without any conscience, regard for human life or the power to keep his city’s mass transit system running after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have… James Neal? He did knee Brad Marchand in the head that one time. Alex Tuch wore a border control costume this Halloween, which is extremely douchey.

Which douchebag is bigger? Wilson has run more people into the ground than a sadistic cross country coach and doesn’t seem to give two shits about it, so it’s another easy answer.

THE BELEAGUERED STARS WITH SOMETHING TO PROVE

Alex Ovechkin has taken the blame for everything wrong with Washington since he arrived in 2005. The playoff failures, the participation banners hung in the arena, Nicklas Backstrom’s failures, the outdoor game uniforms, government shutdowns, Kirk Cousins’ contract situation and departure, the lack of a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down, Dan Snyder’s existence and the Capitals’ lack of a Stanley Cup. With four more wins, Ovechkin can play the rest of his career and chase the all-time goals record in peace.

Marc-Andre Fleury has three championships—one as a starter, one as a backup, and one as a helper—but was cast aside in Pittsburgh after last season when Matt Murray took his job and made him expendable. Fleury was the scapegoat for the Penguins’ failures between 2010 and 2013, which means a Conn Smythe Trophy and Stanley Cup would complete his redemption story.

Who is more worthy of your love? Fleury lost his job fair and square in Pittsburgh and come on, he has three Cups. Ovechkin has zero and who knows if he ever gets this far again. You should be pulling very hard for Ovechkin.

FAN BASES MOST UPSET BY THE OUTCOME

If the Capitals finally win a Cup, the most pissed off people will be Penguins fans and Rangers fans; Penguins fans have forged an identity through laughing at the Capitals and that will go away completely. Rangers fans have the goaltending version of Ovechkin, and if the real Ovechkin wins a Cup, that shines (an equally dumb and unfair) spotlight on Henrik Lundqvist’s lack of a Cup.

If the Golden Knights win a Cup in their first season, it will piss off [Gary Oldman in The Professional voice] EVERYONE. I believe it should be something to be celebrated by everyone but I know it won’t be. Fans across North America will spend the offseason wandering the streets, lost, confused, muttering to themselves about a rigged expansion draft.

Which is better for you? This really comes down to how much you hate the Penguins and Rangers, which, based on my online experience, is a lot. If you have those fans in your life, sure, I get why you want them to suffer. But what’s best for everyone is chaos, and that’s what Vegas winning the Cup will provide. This decision is between you and your heart.

CANADA’S LEVEL OF ANGER

If Canada can no longer hold the whole no Cups thing over Ovechkin, the nation may collapse. The Ovechkin Isn’t A Winner takes make up 45 percent of the Canadian economy and there’s no telling what a collapse like that will do to the global markets. Does Don Cherry have enough money saved in the event of an Ovechkin Take Crisis?

It’s been 25 years since a Canadian franchise has hoisted the Cup and there’s no telling what a first-year franchise in a desert community winning it will do to Canada. My guess is Canada is so numb to losing the Cup every year that the acceptance of American hockey dominance happened a long time ago and they won’t even feel it when Deryk Engelland takes the Cup from Gary Bettman.

Which is better for you? I lean toward Ovechkin winning the Cup, because it will lead to a whole bunch of people apologizing or inventing new crazy takes to survive. “Ovechkin has one Cup… but he should have more!” “Ovechkin’s Cup came against an expansion team, and that’s why it shouldn’t count!” There’s way more upside to a Capitals championship.

SHIT YELLED DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

During the sacred ritual that is singing America’s theme song before a sports game, each teams’ fans scream one of the lyrics during home games. In Vegas, it’s “gave proof through the KNIGHT” because of the Golden Knights and in Washington it’s “rockets’ RED glare” because the Capitals have the color red in their uniforms. So when Seattle joins the league and becomes the Vampire Wolves, they will go with, “At the TWILIGHT’S last gleaming.”

Which is better? Neither! What are you people doing? Either sing the entire song from start to finish or keep your traps shut. Every fan base is looking for some gimmick during the anthem and they are all stupid. Rangers fans mumble a disorganized “LET’S GO RANGERS” and Jets fans scream “TRUE NORTH” during “O Canada” to honor the corporation that owns the Jets, which seems like a gag they’d do on Silicon Valley at Hooli. How long before Flyers fans start yelling “BROAD stripes” at home games? This is a PUSH (I was listening to Matchbox Twenty while writing this).

PREGAME ARENA SHOWS

Vegas offers a free Medieval Time show before every game where a fancy knight on skates has a sword fight with a person or something like a jet plane. I have no idea what even happens in Washington. Does a guy dress like Ben Franklin and read from the Constitution? Who cares?

Which is better? Unless the Capitals get some dudes with muskets shooting at each other, this is a no-brainer.

TEAM SLOGANS

It’s #ALLCAPS vs #VegasBorn in what has to be the dorkiest hashtag matchup in Final history. Of course you’re “Vegas Born”—your team was born in Vegas. What sort of lazy-ass slogan is that? What stops any other team from doing this? I guess all the relocating. Yeah, that’s the answer to that question. I take it back.

https://sports.vice.com/en_ca/embed/article/mbxw9v/the-expansion-vegas-golden-knights-are-stanley-cup-favorites-and-make-absolutely-no-sense?utm_source=stylizedembed_sports.vice.com&utm_campaign=qvnvmd&site=sports

Which is better? All earnest hashtags are bad. That’s the lesson here.

WHICH OUTCOME IS FUNNIER

The Capitals finally getting a Cup with what is objectively a worse team than they had the previous two years is hilarious. Barry Trotz pooped all over Kevin Shattenkirk this season and essentially blamed him for the Capitals’ losing in the second round last year and it turns out maybe he had a point. Braden Holtby was so bad that he wasn’t even the starter when the playoffs began and now he has a chance at winning the Conn Smythe. There are a lot of laughs packed into a potential Washington victory.

But the Golden Knights winning it all in their first year is the Monty Python and the Holy Grail (or whatever movie you find really funny, I don’t care) of sports comedy. You won’t ever laugh like this in your life. Literally nobody—not me, not you, not team owner Bill Foley—thought this was possible and now the Knights are favorites in the Cup Final.

And this last answer is all that matters. You should be pulling for Vegas. Thinking about every NHL GM staring at his TV as Brayden McNabb hands the Cup to Luca Sbisa, who hands it to Ryan Reaves, who hands it to Colin Miller, who hands it to Jonathan Marchessault and Reilly Smith at the same time, who put down the Cup and hold up a sign that reads, “THANK YOU DALE” is something too good to pass up.

There’s plenty to enjoy about a Caps win but nothing in the history of hockey will be more pleasurable than the Vegas Golden Knights being crowned Stanley Cup champs.

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports CA.

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

[flauntpage]

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final

So you're not a fan of the Washington Capitals or Vegas Golden Knights, huh? You don't have any interest in watching them play for a championship, huh? Stanley Cup Final ratings year after year indicate the neutral observer would rather watch Scrubs reruns than a game involving two teams he or she doesn't care about but maybe that's because nobody has given you a compelling case to hop on a bandwagon.

This year's Super Bowl involved the New England Patriots and Philadelphia Eagles, which was like choosing between watching your parents ripped apart by bears or Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull; no matter what happened, you were going to be irrevocably psychologically damaged. With the Capitals and Golden Knights, we get to pick between two likable teams looking to cap off unexpected championship seasons.

The only proper way to decide your allegiances is to look at what the Capitals and Knights offer and hitching your wagon to the team you want to call your own for a couple weeks. Let's break down each team in some very important categories that were not chosen specifically as vessels for jokes. How dare you even think that?

THE CITIES

On one hand you have Washington, a city without any casinos, sports books or a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have Las Vegas, which hasn't shut down since it opened.

Which is better? Each city is a place filled with people looking to hustle you out of your hard-earned money but at least Las Vegas gives you free booze while they do it.

THE DOUCHEBAGS

On one hand you have Tom Wilson, a player without any conscience, regard for human life or the power to keep his city's mass transit system running after the sun goes down. On the other hand, you have... James Neal? He did knee Brad Marchand in the head that one time. Alex Tuch wore a border control costume this Halloween, which is extremely douchey.

Which douchebag is bigger? Wilson has run more people into the ground than a sadistic cross country coach and doesn't seem to give two shits about it, so it's another easy answer.

THE BELEAGUERED STARS WITH SOMETHING TO PROVE

Alex Ovechkin has taken the blame for everything wrong with Washington since he arrived in 2005. The playoff failures, the participation banners hung in the arena, Nicklas Backstrom's failures, the outdoor game uniforms, government shutdowns, Kirk Cousins' contract situation and departure, the lack of a mass transit system that runs after the sun goes down, Dan Snyder's existence and the Capitals' lack of a Stanley Cup. With four more wins, Ovechkin can play the rest of his career and chase the all-time goals record in peace.

Marc-Andre Fleury has three championships—one as a starter, one as a backup, and one as a helper—but was cast aside in Pittsburgh after last season when Matt Murray took his job and made him expendable. Fleury was the scapegoat for the Penguins' failures between 2010 and 2013, which means a Conn Smythe Trophy and Stanley Cup would complete his redemption story.

Who is more worthy of your love? Fleury lost his job fair and square in Pittsburgh and come on, he has three Cups. Ovechkin has zero and who knows if he ever gets this far again. You should be pulling very hard for Ovechkin.

FAN BASES MOST UPSET BY THE OUTCOME

If the Capitals finally win a Cup, the most pissed off people will be Penguins fans and Rangers fans; Penguins fans have forged an identity through laughing at the Capitals and that will go away completely. Rangers fans have the goaltending version of Ovechkin, and if the real Ovechkin wins a Cup, that shines (an equally dumb and unfair) spotlight on Henrik Lundqvist's lack of a Cup.

If the Golden Knights win a Cup in their first season, it will piss off [Gary Oldman in The Professional voice] EVERYONE. I believe it should be something to be celebrated by everyone but I know it won't be. Fans across North America will spend the offseason wandering the streets, lost, confused, muttering to themselves about a rigged expansion draft.

Which is better for you? This really comes down to how much you hate the Penguins and Rangers, which, based on my online experience, is a lot. If you have those fans in your life, sure, I get why you want them to suffer. But what's best for everyone is chaos, and that's what Vegas winning the Cup will provide. This decision is between you and your heart.

CANADA'S LEVEL OF ANGER

If Canada can no longer hold the whole no Cups thing over Ovechkin, the nation may collapse. The Ovechkin Isn't A Winner takes make up 45 percent of the Canadian economy and there's no telling what a collapse like that will do to the global markets. Does Don Cherry have enough money saved in the event of an Ovechkin Take Crisis?

It's been 25 years since a Canadian franchise has hoisted the Cup and there's no telling what a first-year franchise in a desert community winning it will do to Canada. My guess is Canada is so numb to losing the Cup every year that the acceptance of American hockey dominance happened a long time ago and they won't even feel it when Deryk Engelland takes the Cup from Gary Bettman.

Which is better for you? I lean toward Ovechkin winning the Cup, because it will lead to a whole bunch of people apologizing or inventing new crazy takes to survive. "Ovechkin has one Cup... but he should have more!" "Ovechkin's Cup came against an expansion team, and that's why it shouldn't count!" There's way more upside to a Capitals championship.

SHIT YELLED DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

During the sacred ritual that is singing America's theme song before a sports game, each teams' fans scream one of the lyrics during home games. In Vegas, it's "gave proof through the KNIGHT" because of the Golden Knights and in Washington it's "rockets' RED glare" because the Capitals have the color red in their uniforms. So when Seattle joins the league and becomes the Vampire Wolves, they will go with, "At the TWILIGHT'S last gleaming."

Which is better? Neither! What are you people doing? Either sing the entire song from start to finish or keep your traps shut. Every fan base is looking for some gimmick during the anthem and they are all stupid. Rangers fans mumble a disorganized "LET'S GO RANGERS" and Jets fans scream "TRUE NORTH" during "O Canada" to honor the corporation that owns the Jets, which seems like a gag they'd do on Silicon Valley at Hooli. How long before Flyers fans start yelling "BROAD stripes" at home games? This is a PUSH (I was listening to Matchbox Twenty while writing this).

PREGAME ARENA SHOWS

Vegas offers a free Medieval Time show before every game where a fancy knight on skates has a sword fight with a person or something like a jet plane. I have no idea what even happens in Washington. Does a guy dress like Ben Franklin and read from the Constitution? Who cares?

Which is better? Unless the Capitals get some dudes with muskets shooting at each other, this is a no-brainer.

TEAM SLOGANS

It's #ALLCAPS vs #VegasBorn in what has to be the dorkiest hashtag matchup in Final history. Of course you're "Vegas Born"—your team was born in Vegas. What sort of lazy-ass slogan is that? What stops any other team from doing this? I guess all the relocating. Yeah, that's the answer to that question. I take it back.

Which is better? All earnest hashtags are bad. That's the lesson here.

WHICH OUTCOME IS FUNNIER

The Capitals finally getting a Cup with what is objectively a worse team than they had the previous two years is hilarious. Barry Trotz pooped all over Kevin Shattenkirk this season and essentially blamed him for the Capitals' losing in the second round last year and it turns out maybe he had a point. Braden Holtby was so bad that he wasn't even the starter when the playoffs began and now he has a chance at winning the Conn Smythe. There are a lot of laughs packed into a potential Washington victory.

But the Golden Knights winning it all in their first year is the Monty Python and the Holy Grail (or whatever movie you find really funny, I don't care) of sports comedy. You won't ever laugh like this in your life. Literally nobody—not me, not you, not team owner Bill Foley—thought this was possible and now the Knights are favorites in the Cup Final.

And this last answer is all that matters. You should be pulling for Vegas. Thinking about every NHL GM staring at his TV as Brayden McNabb hands the Cup to Luca Sbisa, who hands it to Ryan Reaves, who hands it to Colin Miller, who hands it to Jonathan Marchessault and Reilly Smith at the same time, who put down the Cup and hold up a sign that reads, "THANK YOU DALE" is something too good to pass up.

There's plenty to enjoy about a Caps win but nothing in the history of hockey will be more pleasurable than the Vegas Golden Knights being crowned Stanley Cup champs.

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports CA.

A Bandwagon Guide to the Unlikely Capitals-Golden Knights Stanley Cup Final published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Brassard Traded; Pens Blast ‘Canes; Jets Blank Blues – February 24

For those looking for an update on Auston Matthews, we got one: there’s not much of an update.

Matthews is considered day-to-day, which is probably the best news Leafs fans could hope for here. We’re at the point of the season where a six-week injury could start to affect postseason appearances. The team only has three games in the next nine days even though a couple are against teams ahead of them in the division. It could be worse.

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Chris Kreider returned to the Rangers lineup after missing nearly two months with the blood clot issue. Hockey aside, it’s nice to see him make a full recovery this quickly. Let’s hope there are no more serious issues that arise moving forward.

He was slotted on the top line with Mika Zibanejad and Pavel Buchnevich, though it’s uncertain how long that will last. The Rangers are apparently ready to trade anything that isn’t bolted to the floor.

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The big non-injury news from Friday was the trade of Derick Brassard from Ottawa to Pittsburgh. There was a hang-up before it was finalized – the NHL rejected the original proposal – but where there’s a will, there’s a way.

You can read Steve Laidlaw’s thoughts here.

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As expected, even with Kreider back, the Wild laid the wood to the Rangers to the tune of 4-1. It’s not a blowout score but the game was certainly never in New York’s control. Injuries and trades will render this team unwatchable for the final six weeks of the season. Rob O’Gara led their d-men in 5v5 TOI while Vinni Lettieri led the forwards. Yeah, unwatchable.

Mikael Granlund and Eric Staal led the way with two goals and two assists apiece. It appeared as though Granlund had a hat trick but an earlier goal was changed to Staal. They each had seven shots on goal to boot. Those two were assembled with Jason Zucker as the team’s top line and, apparently, they’re pretty good!

Devan Dubnyk saved 22 of 23 in the win and probably had a nice dinner sometime in the second period.

By the way, Ryan Suter had a power-play assist in the third period, his 16th PP apple of the campaign, which is double what he had last season.

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Speaking of laying the wood, Pittsburgh knocked off Carolina 6-1. Things got so bad that Cam Ward cracked his stick across the post, leading to a 10-minute misconduct (and nearly taking out Jeff Skinner in the process).

Also, speaking of Derick Brassard, his potential new line mates were the difference for the Penguins in this one. Jake Guentzel had a goal and two assists while Phil Kessel had two goals and an assist. Evgeni Malkin had a goal and two assists, Sidney Crosby had a goal, and on and on…

It was one of the better all-around fantasy performances on the season for Guentzel. On top of the points, he was a plus-3, added four more shots, had two blocked shots, and threw a hit for good measure. He now has 11 points in his last 10 games and is getting a playmaking centre to skate with.

Jordan Staal missed this game due to a family emergency but we did not hear anything further. Obviously, Eric Staal played for Minnesota so it’s likely not something with the Staal family at large. Let’s hope it’s nothing too serious for Jordan.

Teuvo Teravainen scored the lone goal for Carolina, his 15th of the year, which ties a career-high. I did not think he’d maintain his early season scoring pace but he’s been pretty good all season long. The team still needs more scoring, but Teravainen turning into a 20-goal, 50-point guy is a step in the right direction.

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The road warrior theme continues as Winnipeg shutout St. Louis 4-0 thanks to 34 saves from Connor Hellebuyck. League-wide, he’s now second in wins (32), second in shutouts (6), and third in save percentage (.924).

Kyle Connor had a goal and an assist which gives him an even 40 points on the year. I discuss him a little later so scroll down if you want some thoughts on his season and future.

Blake Wheeler also had one and one while Nic Petan and Patrik Laine tallied the other two.

A quick note on Laine scoring his 65th career goal:

Laine needs five goals to be the sixth player ever with 70 goals as a teenager. Crosby/Stamkos only ones to do it since 1988 https://t.co/aTN1Vldfet

— Michael Clifford (@SlimCliffy) February 24, 2018

Petan only played 6:23 so he was very efficient in his scoring tonight.

After going 0-4 on the power play, the Blues PP sits at 14.9 percent since Christmas. Considering the talent among both their forwards and defencemen, this is fairly absurd. How much can they keep shaking things up, though?

With his two points, Blake Wheeler becomes the sixth player to crack 70 points on the season, tying Connor McDavid with 71. Wheeler also set a career-high with 53 assists. He won’t win the Hart Trophy but I do wonder if he gets any votes. He moved to centre in Scheifele’s absence and will almost certainly be a point-per-game player for a Cup contender. It would just be nice to see one of the game’s top wingers finally get some league-wide recognition.

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In his first start of the season, Jean-Francois Berube stopped 42 of 43 shots that he faced en route to a 3-1 Blackhawks win. Both Jan Rutta and Nick Schmaltz had a goal and an assist with Artem Anisimov adding the empty netter. That makes 17 goals on the year for Schmaltz and I wrote a bit more on him a little later.

Brent Burns had a typical Brent Burns night with one assist, seven shots, three blocks, two penalty minutes, and a hit. Timo Meier scored the lone goal which is his ninth goal since the calendar turned 2018.

There were a lot of lines changing around for the Sharks in this one including returning Tomas Hertl to centre where he had been at times post-Joe Thornton injury. We’ll see if they stick, but Hertl moving to the middle would obviously add some value in leagues with face-off wins.

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I'll add an update from the Canucks/Golden Knights game in the morning. 

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It’s been a pretty quiet season in the fantasy community for Colton Parayko. It’s kind of understandable, given that Alex Pietrangelo started the season absolutely scorching but had just two goals and 21 points over his previous 40 games going into Friday night’s action. Parayko, however, is on pace for a career-high in points, shots, hits, and blocked shots. Not bad?

Funny thing about all this is that his season probably should be better than it is. The team’s on-ice shooting percentage at five-on-five with Parayko patrolling the blue line stands at 6.41 percent, by far the worst his career (8.88 percent in his rookie year and 8.41 percent last year). That’s something that could improve next year, if not over the balance of this season, and Parayko’s numbers with it.

The problem will continue to be the power-play minutes. He’s third among the team’s defencemen in this regard, both per game and in total TOI. Alex Pietrangelo was on the top unit to start the year, Vince Dunn has been there of late, while Parayko has usually been tasked with mop-up duty on the second quintet. He will still likely reach double-digit PP points which is fine but as long as that hierarchy remains, his fantasy upside is capped. Just keep that in mind for September drafts: 50-plus point seasons for Parayko are very unlikely unless he gets those prime PP minutes.

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I’m kind of at a loss as to what to do about Kyle Connor in keeper leagues. He could push for 25 goals and 50 points this year which is a very stellar season, of course. The lack of peripherals like PIMs and hits ding him hard in multi-category roto leagues but the production has been solid.

I have posted the work from CJ Turtoro before; he has assembled a visual tool to help compare players by measures such as controlled zone entries and exits, shots, and more. Here is how Kyle Connor measures up against another 21-year old, Adrian Kempe:

This isn’t a comprehensive sample; you’ll note the games played limits. But it should make fantasy owners question whether Connor is a legit scoring star in the making, or a good player who happens to play most of his minutes alongside two of the most talented forwards in the league.

The conundrum here is that it may not matter if he’s a star in the making or a good player who happens to play with Mark Scheifele and Blake Wheeler. Like Chris Kunitz four or five years ago in Pittsburgh, as long as he keeps his role, he’ll keep his fantasy value.

I put it to the Dobber community, where does Connor rank for you in terms of fantasy value? Is he more Nikolaj Ehlers or Vladislav Namestnikov? Sound off in the comments.

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There has been a lot to go wrong with the Blackhawks this year – Brandon Saad’s disappointing return, Corey Crawford’s injury, missing the playoffs, to name a few – but one bright spot has certainly been the play of Nick Schmaltz.

With 40 points on the season, Schmaltz is tied for second on the team in scoring with Jonathan Toews and, league-wide, he’s tied with Matthew Tkachuk in primary points per 60 minutes at five-on-five (which doesn’t count secondary assists), ranking just below names like Nikolaj Ehlers and Brayden Schenn. That’s pretty good. (note: he moved up following Friday night's game, this was all as of early Friday evening)

The problem, as I’m sure many are waiting to point out, is his shooting percentage. As of early Friday, he was over 17 percent at all strengths and over 20 percent at five-on-five. Those will both decline, the latter more than the former. He also doesn’t shoot very much and by “very much” I mean hardly at all; his 9.22 shot attempts per 60 minutes at five-on-five is sandwiched between Tom Pyatt and Chris Kunitz. It’s lower than Nick Shore and Riley Sheahan. That’s pretty bad.

Then again, he’s only 21 years old playing 18:30 per game as the centre for Patrick Kane, at least until they broke up that duo recently.

I also wanted to point this out, again from the three-zones tool I linked above:

So, yeah. Schmaltz has been excellent at doing everything except shooting the puck. The William Nylander comparison is there to approximate skating alongside an elite forward.

As anyone whose owned Blackhawks forwards in fantasy over the years knows, your player’s value is inextricably linked to Joel Quenneville’s whims. Schmaltz is a first-round pick who was touted for offence and is producing offensively while doing all the underlying things we’d expect (besides shooting) for that offence to continue. A common fantasy mantra is to bet on talent and Schmaltz is showing it in spades. Keep him in mind when September rolls around as a depth centre. 

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-brassard-traded-pens-blast-canes-jets-blank-blues-february-24/