#there is only one real marchy and its not him

[waggle100]

No Bruce dont call him that 😔

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: No real explanation for this, it’s just a super, super self-indulgent piece for me to do a character deep dive into Jervis Tetch. Don’t mind me! Lol. I was stuck between doing this with either Arkhamverse or BTAS Jervis(pls request btas jervis i only have one idea for him and its meh to me rip), but decided to just do a general overall version of him. I bring up a lot of familiar character beats and woes so this can really fit most Jervi anyway. There’s a hint of smut but nothing crazy, cause it’s not entirely what it’s about. 

and I guess a wee late b-day gift for @mischievous-marchie they’re mostly to blame for this anyway given the few deep discussions we’ve had in general lmao. 

Trigger Warnings: depressive and anxious thoughts, venting, explicit sexual content (handjobs all about Jervis here sorry not sorry), mentions of violence and criminal acts, and strong language

Word Count: 3.4 k

General Mad Hatter x Reader - Love and Suds

One of the most dangerous places for anyone to go is the deep recesses of their own brain. 

People often spend many years trying to repress their horrid anxious inducing memories of their shortcomings. 

Jervis found himself lamenting his very life, in the cold solitude of his tiny living room in his tiny apartment. 

On his lucid days, he's aware…he's there in reality, painfully aware of everything; past and present.  

Jervis sees what he's done, and it shudders his whole body in shame. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone. He doesn't mean to take away their free will…well most of them anyhow. 

It's just how else can he be noticed? Be respected and be shown an iota of love? That's all anyone really needs right? That's all everyone wants. 

Suffice it to say, people want things from Jervis…they want them all the time. But never the man himself.

Fellow rogues and evil masterminds constantly come to steal or bargain for a smidgen of his technology. 

He hates to admit the times he agreed to such dealings, whether it was for the money or just a shot at actually developing some kind of alliance.

Only for it all to be spit back in his face. Nobody wanted Jervis the person…just the genius and what he could provide. 

No, Jervis was always too freakish, too awkward, too…creepy to some. 

Jervis could feel the walls slowly caving in on himself. 

All his atrocities from his raging escapades to find companionship only to find someone wasn't the one or only to be taken for a fool and used all this time. 

Which caused him to lash out in the most violent ways…

All the times he was used, chewed on and spit back out, no longer of use to them or anyone really. 

His fingers raked through his hair. Nails scratching at his scalp, fingertips pulling at his hair strands. 

He just wanted to make his Wonderland a reality. He wanted to find happiness in reality but it just wasn't possible so he had to resort to desperate…horrible…measures. 

"Didn't want to…I didn't want to…wanted company, wanted to feel loved, respected…h-h-heard…" 

Heard…heard..what's that noise?

Someone was knocking at his door.

Jervis blinked rapidly. Trying to come back into the external after spiraling into his internal conflicts. 

Who could it be? He debated just staying quiet and staying put and continuing his downward spiral. 

Yet, much like Alice of old, he was curious. 

Jervis slowly, almost reluctantly approached the door. He looked through the peephole. 

Oh, it was you. What're you doing here?

"Jervis? Are you there? I haven't heard from you…" 

Guilt welled up in his gut like bile in his throat he wanted to puke. In all his damning thoughts, you were completely void of them. Probably because you're one of the only few people in the whole world that seemed genuine. 

You…actually seemed to like him for him. Something so rare there were many days Jervis found it hard to believe you existed. 

Yet, he knew he didn't have any chips on you. Jervis has looked you over a time or two to ensure he didn’t plant one on your during any of his stupors. 

There you were though. You were a free roaming person…that willingly came to see him. 

Jervis slowly unlocked the door and was greeted by your bright relieved smile. 

"Oh my god, Jervis you're okay! I-I haven't heard from you. You haven't invited me over in awhile…umm, can I come in?" 

Back in Jervis' days before his Mad Hatter escapades, you were the only one that showed him any friendly camaraderie. 

You, of course, being the only one wasn't enough to prevent Jervis from succumbing to his last resort for more connections and more semblance of respect he lacked. 

Many times, Batman and the psychiatrists at Arkham called upon you to help him, but it was like talking to a bunch of brick walls when they asked for your opinion. 

Jervis nodded and stepped to the side and let you in. 

You looked around at the clear disarray of his living room. Blankets and comforters were scattered on the couch and floor. Lamp shades torn off. Cups and saucers littered and stacked on the table and floor. 

You hung your bag up by the door and took off your shoes, before looking back over to Jervis. 

He had definitely seen better days as well. 

His hair was coated in grease, his face sweaty and paler than usual. He looked like he had been wearing the same forest green bathrobe for days if not weeks. 

Jervis was rocking on the heels of his feet as he let you take in the outer representation of his inner turmoil and depression. 

"I…um…" Jervis tried to speak up. His heart cracked as you waited on him to continue with sincere ears. 

"Wasn't planning on having company…" He scratched behind his ear, nervously. 

"It's okay, I did pop in unannounced but…I was worried–" You began to explain your motive but was cut off. 

"Why? W-why bother…" 

You quirk your eyebrow at him for a moment. "Because I care about you…I know I haven't been around much and I feel guilty for it but I just wanted-"

"Don't waste your time or breath on me…I'm far from forgiveness and beyond help…"

You walked over and attempted to grab his hands in yours. "Jervis, that's not true, who told you that?" 

Jervis looked down at his feet, as his hands rested in yours but didn't return your endearing grip. 

You had a tight smile as Jervis decided to stop responding to you. He tended to shut down when words became too much, swirling in his head between the rhymes, his thoughts, and what he wishes to say. 

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry it took me so long to come back." 

You started running some water into the bathtub. Occasionally putting your hand through the water until it was warm enough to start filling the tub.

Jervis was still in the living room. Too exhausted to really argue with you to leave him be. Plus deep down he supposes he was glad to see you, before things got too dark again. 

"Hey, Jervy!" 

His heart skipped a beat, you hadn't called him that in…years. 

He turned his head down the corridor and saw your head sticking out of the bathroom. 

"I ran you a warm bath, you don't have to wash or anything, just relax, yeah? I'll pick up a little in the living room in the meantime…" You offered. 

You, you did what? You're going to do that? 

Panic softly set in, he knows this feeling. 

Something he's always felt for you, but reserved it. Pushed it down. Not wanting to hurt you after so long…or worse, like he did to most…

He hopped off the couch and made his way to the bathroom. Your smile almost made him smile back in return. 

"Just take it easy, I'll be back in a bit with a change of clothes. Just yell for me if you need anything." You pat him on the shoulder, before closing the door and you start cleaning up the living room. 

Jervis had to admit, it did feel nice being in here. The water felt like an engulfing warm hug, slowly rinsing off the grime, sweat, and dirt off his skin. The warm water caused his skin to redden a soft pink. 

His swarming thoughts from before still lingered but they were much fuzzier. Hidden behind some weird mental fog. 

The weight remained however as he fought on how to conduct himself with you. He could hear you moving around just outside the door. The clinking of dishes, the roaring of a vacuum. 

A knocking sound broke him once again from his reverie. 

"Are you doing okay, Jervy?" 

No response. Jervis tried to move his mouth and conduct words but nothing came out. 

"I'm coming in, okay? So…hide yourself." You chuckled softly. 

You entered the bathroom and were happy to see he at least got into the tub. You wanted to ask how he was, but felt it would fall on deaf ears. You set his change of clothes by the bathroom door. 

"Here, you don't need to do anything, but…" You walked over to the side of the tub, making Jervis slightly jump. 

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, but, we gotta do something with this hair, okay? Will you let me wash it?" 

Jervis hated to admit it but that sounded splendid right now. He was sick of his hair sticking to his face and being everywhere. He nodded. 

You smiled brightly, excited for the positive response. "Thank you, I promise I'll be gentle."

"N-no…uh…thank you…" Jervis mumbled. 

"Don't mention it. I just wish I got here sooner. Looks like you had tea parties without me." You joked, giggling softly. 

He softly mustered an amused scoff in return. You were always one to entertain his Wonderland fixation. You didn't question it or ridicule it. You understood and encouraged it. Even made a claim to being The March Hare (or The Dormouse on days when you were particularly sleepy and longed for a nap.)

You got behind Jervis' head with the bottle of shampoo and conditioner by your side and a couple of rags. You put a generous amount of shampoo in your hand and began scrubbing his strands. 

The contact was really nice and felt amazing. Better than all the beatings from Batman or the Arkham Asylum wards he was used too. 

He almost whined when you stopped. "Jervis…I'm gonna need you to breathe for me, okay?"

Jervis didn't even realize he was holding in his breath as you scrubbed his scalp. After a moment he slowly exhaled and began breathing in and out. You continued washing and rinsing his hair before repeating the process with conditioner. 

You two sat in comfortable silence with the occasional sloshing of water whenever you had to rinse Jervis' hair. 

The swelling panic deep in Jervis' gut was throbbing at this point…along with something else. 

You weren't under his mind control. 

You were still your own being. How were you so nice? You know better than anyone what he's capable of, but you choose to come anyway and you chose to stay. No matter how much distance he tried to keep from you so he didn't result in his usual…antics. 

There was no denying his feelings for you anymore, in this vulnerable and intimate state. He loves and adores you. His only friend, his March Hare…he just didn't know how to respond or react…how they say…appropriately. 

"Y-you don't have to stay here any longer. You're free to leave." Jervis came back up from rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of his hair. 

"Jervis…if you want me to go. I can, but I don't want to. I've missed you and I wanna help you." Your hands were still on either side of him in the water. 

"Why? Why do you wanna stay? Knowing very well what I can do…what I do to…what I've done." 

You took your hand out of the water and cupped his chin in the palm of your hand so he could look at you.

"Jervis, I've known you for a decade…and you've never not once offered or tricked me with any mind control whatsoever. And you want to know why?" 

Jervis nodded, but you still answered anyway. 

"Because you don't need to. You know you don't need to. And you never will need too. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to explain that to that dark dingus." You rolled your eyes at the mention of Batman. 

You could count on both hands and then some the nights that Batman was literally breaking and entering into your home to ask about Jervis and what made you special. 

It's because you were fucking kind to him. You liked Jervis. He's quirky, intelligent, and can be kind but you could only be so kind anymore after the world kicked you down so many times. 

You wondered just how small Batman's so-called "rogues gallery" would be if people were kinder to others and didn't seek to take advantage of other human beings. 

It saddened you immensely to see him go down the path he did when there was no way for you to interfere but you couldn't say it surprised you either. 

You looked back into his eyes, your hands moving from his chin to his cheek. "I'm aware of your past…transgressions. Your m/o but I'm not scared or worried. I do mean it, and you can quote that it's actually me…" 

You turned and rotated your head around to show the lack of headgear, microchips, and any other cranium influences. 

"...I care…no…I do love you Jervis Tetch. I'm not going anywhere…not anytime soon." 

There was a beat of silence as Jervis took in what you said.

You saw his lower lip start quivering as they fought to speak or keep in the growing pressure in his eyes and throat to cry. 

You smiled softly, and with zero care for getting wet; you wrapped your arms around him and embraced him. 

It took a minute but he slowly returned the gesture. You could feel him press his fingers down into your lower back and his arms tighten around you. 

"T-thank you…" He whispered softly in between sniffles. 

"Don't mention it." You let him go and sink back into the tub only to realize you're just as soaked as well.

You couldn't help but laugh as Jervis looked at you nervously when he realized he had gotten you wet. 

"It's okay. It'll dry, I figured it was a good idea to pack an overnight bag." You chuckled. 

Jervis felt guilty now, not for any reasons before, but for the way he kept stealing glances at your skin that was see through the wet white shirt. 

"Do you think you can clean yourself while I go change?" 

He could, he absolutely could. He wasn't a child. But damn it if he wasn't just the tiniest bit selfish for your touch and attention now. He didn't want you to get away. 

As if you possessed mind powers of your own, you jokingly rolled your eyes. "Okay, okay, I'll just finish what I started and then change, how is that?" 

You laughed in disbelief as for the first time that night Jervis actually gave you one of his signature giddy grins and an encouraging nod. 

You got back down on your knees beside the tub and grabbed one of the rags and lathered it with soap. 

Before you began washing his body, you playfully plopped the rag onto his face, causing you both to laugh. You did take the chance to clean his face and head but being mindful of his eyes. 

You were relieved to see Jervis start feeling better but it was even more satisfying to feel the tension in his neck and shoulders finally disappear. He was actually relaxed and loose. 

When you got lower under the water however, something stood at attention that you didn't think about and Jervis forgot to mention. 

Jervis gasped as you got closer to his groin and grabbed your wrist. "I-I can take it from here-I…I'm sorry." He ruined it. His one chance of true companionship was dashed because of stupid primal responses and desires.

"It's fine, Jervy, really." It really was fine, you didn't mind one bit. You were kind of flattered more than anything. 

"Y-You mean you don't mind?" 

You shook your head, "not at all, in fact if you allow me too…" 

Jervis gulped. He would love it if you did, actually. You caused it after all. 

"Y-yes, please." 

You leaned in and kissed his temple as your hands dove back into the water. You let your hand trail up his leg, occasionally groping his thigh as you got closer to his cock. 

Jervis gasped when your hand finally gripped the base of his cock. You slowly began stroking and tugging at the base, just to start the pace slow. With every pump you went higher and higher up until you finally got to the head. 

Jervis was a flushed red panting mess as you continued your gentle but steady strokes, occasionally squeezing his head in a way that made him whimper louder. 

Above the water's surface, you continued to peck sweet, endearing kisses along his face. His forehead, temple, cheek, nose. Everywhere he was comfortable with for now. 

You were still somewhat shaky from your confession and Jervis' lack of reciprocating or response of one, but you knew he would say it when he’s ready in due time. The fact he’s letting you stay, treat him, and “help” him…that was enough. 

You began picking up the pace, with faster and tighter strokes from his base to the tip. You saw Jervis slightly convulsing and his breathing became more raggedy and heavy. You were so focused on getting him to the precipice of pleasure that you almost didn’t feel his hand come up to your cheek. 

“C-can I…can we…k-kiss?” He managed through his groans and whimpers. 

The elation you felt as you happily leaned in and pressed your lips gently with Jervis’. You felt the quick intake of air through his nostrils. Your lips vibrated slightly as he groaned into your lips, before sighing contently. When you pulled back and broke the kiss, you smiled at the look of pure bliss on his face. 

A complete opposite of the stern, tensed forlorn expression he had when you first walked into the door. 

You removed your hand from the tub and got up and began actually drying off your hands and arms.

Jervis was about to finally get out of the water that has already gone cold a long time ago, but was taken aback by your next actions.  

Without so much as a second thought you removed your top and bottoms right there in front of him and changed into the light blue puffy shirt that he was supposed to change into. 

You didn’t notice how you absolutely stunted the neuroscientist as you quickly made your way out of the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back with a change of clothes for you!” 

When the door shut and you left. Jervis was left alone again, to really let it all sink in what just transpired. 

The way his heart was skipping beats but with love and elation more so than anxiety and guilt. The smile on his face wasn’t turned up, crooked and mad. It was natural and it felt nice for once. 

Jervis quickly got out before you could shock him again and began drying himself off. His back was towards the door as you opened it with a fresh shirt, pants, and underwear. You slowly crept behind him and put your hands over his eyes. 

Jervis gasped slightly from the shock, before chuckling at your playfulness. 

“Guess who?” You whispered sing-songy in his ear. 

“Hmm…oh is it the Cheshire Cat? The Carpenter? Or-or the Walrus?”

You laughed softly. “Nope, I’m actually invited to the Tea Party.” 

“Dormy?” 

You shrugged. “On my more sleepy days, absolutely.”

“Oh, I know.” Jervis reached up and grabbed your hands and removed them from his eyes. He turns around and smiles at you. “It’s my darling March Hare.”

“But of course.” You smiled as you pulled him into your arms. You gave him a kiss on his nose and reluctantly let him go. 

“I’ll let you get dressed, its not too late and I doubt you’ve eaten anything. I’ll make something quick and then we can head to bed, how does that sound?” You opened the door, about to head to the kitchen. 

Jervis smiled widely, beaming with happiness and love he hasn’t felt in such a long time. “That sounds splendid, my dear.” 

“Perfect! See you soon!” With that you left the bathroom again and began whipping some stuff up in the kitchen. 

As he changed, Jervis couldn’t help but smile in pure delight. All his memories and thoughts that were weighing on him and suffocating him finally dissipated like steam from a tea pot. He had someone that cared for him, not just for what he could do but for who he is. 

The notorious Mad Hatter of Rogue Gallery infamy. The lonely wretch that is Jervis Tetch. 

When he is with you. He felt he actually had a chance.

[pastrnaks-sainz]

mainlypastrnaksbae AO3 Masterlist

So this is definitely not because I'm procrastinating. ANYWAY, here are all my AO3 fics organized by pairing for your convenience.

Patrice Bergeron/Brad Marchand

Honey, I Adopted a College Student ~ Newly married and just having moved into a house of their own (a feat years, if not a decade in the making), Patrice and Brad were just starting to settle into their new town. They both fell in love with Amherst, Massachusetts. It wasn’t close to Boston by any means, but neither of them needed to be - or wanted to be - close to the city. And Amherst wasn’t Boston, but it was still busy. It was the biggest town in the county and it was home to not one but two colleges. Amherst College with its student body of just around 1,800 and University of Massachusetts Amherst with its overall population of just under 24,000 students. There was plenty to do in Amherst, Massachusetts and Patrice and Brad loved it.

Adventures in Captaincy ~ There was not a word in the English (or French; Brad knows, he looked) dictionary to describe just how much Brad Marchand was in love. No combination of two words, not even a made up word would cover it. Brad had tried, Pasta had tried, even fucking Z had tried and he hadn’t been witness to Brad’s shenangins in over two years. Nothing. Their three brains could not come up with a single word. Things were starting to feel hopeless.

Are They...? ~ “Krej,” Monty said as he walked into the equipment room.

“Hey, coach,” Krej smiled. He turned away from the stacks of tape he was looking through to give Monty his full attention. “What’s up?”

“This is gonna sound weird,” Monty sighed. “But Bergy and Marchy. Are they…?”

or

Monty finds out his two best players are married

Anger Management ~ “I am too,” Patrice cupped the side of Brad’s face with his hand and traced his jawline. “Do you need to take your anger out?”

Brad sighed and looked back down. There were only a handful of nights he could recall that Patrice had asked him that question.

4 Times Marchy Slept on Bergy's Couch + 1 Time he Slept in His Bed ~ “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nice to see you too, Pat,” Marchy retorted, gently pushing past him into the apartment. “Do you mind if I use your air conditioner?”

“You know you’re always welcome over here,” Bergy said as he closed and locked the door. “But just one question, did you seriously walk over here in the rain?”

Young, Dumb, and Drunk ~ “I’ll go get refills.”

“Shit."

or

Bergy and Marchy share a drunk bro kiss on the road in Philly

A Series of Stupid Decisions ~ Brad Marchand was famous for making stupid decisions. Licking Ryan Callahan had to be at the top of the list. He never had the best self control in the world and when he got too caught up in the heat of the moment things could go extremely downhill just as fast. He was a pest, sure, and he was really good at it, but he had a real problem with self sabotage. And it always had a habit of rearing its ugly head at the worst times.

Patrice Bergeron Presents: How to Remove a Pest ~ “Yeah that’s right,” one of the Wings players chirped.

“Ignore him,” Bergy said, leaning into Marchy’s ear.

“Gotta get your boyfriend to get you outta trouble.”

Fuck.

My Best Bro ~ His affection for Bergy didn’t end once they left the ice, though. It followed them once they left and went back to the locker room. Hell, it even followed him out of the rinks and back to their apartments. Brad was, unequivocally, the fiercest defender Patrice had. And Bergy knew that, he really appreciated it too. He just wished Brad wouldn’t be so… easily provoked.

Let Me be Your Fire ~ “Patrice, you and Brad Marchand obviously have one of the best relationships in the NHL,” the reporter (Patrice had forgotten his name the second he said it) said, starting another question. “What is it, specifically, that you love about him?”

Patrice huffed a breathless laugh before answering, “You know he’s… he’s a really great hockey player. He teaches me something every time we play together.”

Brad stood still at the door. He couldn’t fight the empty feeling starting to sink into his chest.

Seeing Red ~ I mean really, the National Hockey should have known by now that touching Patrice Bergeron in front of Brad Marchand was going to end up with gloves and sticks and maybe teeth flying. Even if whatever hit or jab was clean, Marchy would still be going into rabid animal mode. It was just science at this point.

Something in the Orange Tells me We're Not Done ~ It was no secret that Brad was a menace to play against. It was also no secret that, publicly, Marchy took pride in being a pest. Bergy’s was the only opinion he really valued. At least, that’s what he had always thought before that dull ache settled into his chest. The empty one that spread to his fingers and toes and made him want to curl up in a hole and die.

Charlie McAvoy/Matt Grzelcyk

Minors and Majors ~ The Grzelcyk family reunion was running late. It always ran late. Matt was just happy that his parents were hosting this year. The already small backyard of their Charlestown triple decker was packed with family members. Matt had claimed a spot right by the back door, making his escape into the house and subsequently up the stairs behind the locked door of his childhood bedroom that much easier.

His ringtone going off was just the saving grace. He made a big show of pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending the ringtone going off was a call from Bruce instead of a text from Charlie.

Sergeant McAvoy ~ Base security drove Matt crazy. The last thing he wanted to do after a rough loss was pull out every form of identification known to man. And if there was a new person at the gate that didn’t recognize him he needed to go through the whole rigamarole about who he was and explain that, yes, Marines can in fact have husbands.

Baby it's Cold Outside ~ It was a full force blizzard at this point. Matt leaned into the wind and kept walking, fighting against the burning in his lungs. He wheezed and leaned against a building for support. What was he doing out here? He didn’t know how to get back home on foot, hell he didn’t even know where in Brooklyn he was. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was totally useless. The snow was so heavy and thick he wouldn’t be able to see anything no matter how close to him it was.

Charlie McAvoy's Ryan Reynolds Obsession ~ Ryan’s new movie started filming in Boston right down the street from the Garden. Charlie had passed the film set on his way into one of the games and almost drove into oncoming traffic. He’d thundered into the locker room and announced loudly to everyone that the love of his life was right down the street.

Give In ~ “I’m Matt,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m gonna be working with you on your physical therapy.”

“Charlie,” Charlie introduced himself. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Stars Collide ~ Matt felt safe in Charlie’s embrace, like he always did. Especially when he threw a leg over Charlie’s thighs, holding him even closer. It took a while for Charlie to clear his throat and shift awkwardly, pulling his hips away from Matt’s.

“What, do I smell or something?” Matt quipped before he could run through all the possibilities for why Charlie would pull away.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that."

Sic Semper Tyrannis ~ Say what you will about Americans, but they loved a sex scandal. No matter what century it was. There were countless polling numbers that could back that statement up, not to mention all the examples from recent history. As long as there had been politics in America there had been sex scandals. So when Matt Grzelcyk was elected forty seventh President of the United States he was determined to keep his administration as clean as he possibly could. He just didn’t plan on the young reporter from CNN.

Hampus Lindholm/David Pastrnak

Christmas at the Krejci's ~ A lot of people had seasonal depression but David’s was different. He spent a lot of time thinking about his dad this time of year. And when he broke into the league Krejci had taken him under his wing and really acted as a father figure. Now that Krej was back in Boston and playing on a line with Pasta the two of them were visibly happier.

Twitch ~ He made himself comfortable, folding his legs beneath him as he watched. He genuinely had no idea what was going on so he kept his eyes on David. He’d been in loungewear all day, only putting on a beanie, a tank top (one that showed off his full sleeve and drove Hampus absolutely insane), and a pair of gray sweatpants. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world but to Hampus he was absolutely perfect.

Four Points Means Four Orgasms ~ It was a six hour flight from Anaheim to Boston and they had three more hours to go. Hampus could not keep his eyes off David. After the win most of the guys were too amped up to sleep. The sight of Marchy dancing around with Wagner’s tie tied around his head was an entertaining one to say the least, but the only thing Hampus had eyes for was the blond boy with the ear to ear smile on his face sitting diagonally from him. Hampus could feel the excitement and just pure happiness radiating off of him. He couldn’t wait to get them back to their Boston apartment. He had been formulating a plan and ignoring whatever Pavel Zacha was saying for the past twenty minutes.

David Pastrnak and the Intimidating Makeup Bag ~ “Do you want to watch me?” she asked. David nodded excitedly. She smiled and patted the seat beside her. David sat down and rested his hands in his lap as he watched. He was fascinated at how she used the products in front of her. He had never watched someone do their makeup before and he was absolutely fascinated.

Promise (I Never Forgot You) ~ The Swedes and the Czechs both had what they lovingly referred to as secret weapons up their sleeves. Sweden had this defenseman who was absolutely lights out. Despite the fact that he was seventeen he was able to throw his body around on the ice like someone much older than him. And Czechia had this forward, an absolute star. He was sixteen but, shit, he could play.

vous aves du feu ~ “Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing down to the dirtied ashtray. “Just… couldn’t help myself I guess. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s alright,” Hampus said, rubbing David’s shoulder, his fingers dipping beneath his unbuttoned shirt. David couldn’t help but feel he had something else to say though. “Just…”

“Just what?” David’s voice shook as he asked the question. His mind was starting to race the way it always did whenever Hampus had something planned.

“Remember what I said the last time you smoked?”

Man After Midnight ~ “I have a favor I need to ask of you,” Hampus said softly as he played with David’s fingers, their hands joined together on the white table cloth.

“Anything,” David said as he put his wine glass down, smiling at Hampus through the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“Will you cancel your plans for the next two days?”

You Can Touch, You Can Play ~ “What have you been thinking about? Specifically?”

“Well there’s that one lyric,” Hampus said, shifting his gaze from the tiled floor to David’s face.

“Which one?” David asked, swallowing thickly. He knew where this was going.

“I can act like a star,” Hampus began, cupping the side of David’s face. “I can beg on my knees.”

Come Back to Me Now, Darling ~ The thing is… David didn’t mean to fall in love. But he had six foot four of platinum haired Swedish defenseman in front of him so, like, what else was he supposed to do? Not fall in love? Un-fucking-likely.

Take Me to Church ~ Hampus loved watching him squirm. David would start shifting his weight a little bit but that wasn’t enough for his boyfriend. Hampus wanted him to react, to almost lose it and then bring him back in.

When Hampus discovered David’s thing for manspreading he was like a kid on Christmas morning who just opened the newest XBox or Playstation.

Medically Prescribed Cuddles ~ “Do you know what’s up with Pasta? He loves mini golf, did he say anything to you?”

“He probably has a migraine,” Krej shrugged nonchalantly. Hampus blinked at him. “He gets them a lot. I was going to go over to his place after this and check on him.”

“Oh,” Hampus nodded, staring at a spot over Krej’s shoulder as he thought. “Do you mind if I come with you?”

“You know what,” Krej said, a sly smile on his face that was almost imperceptible. “Why don’t you go instead of me.”

Miles and Miles Left to go ~ Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins long after the final buzzer sounded. He was wired on the plane ride home, collecting pats on the back and congratulations from the guys the entire time. He was still turning the puck over in his hands, almost not believing he’d finally reached the fifty goal benchmark.

Upon opening his phone after taking care of the usual post game business he found at least two hundred text messages and voicemails and Instagram notifications. There were only a few he had eyes for, though. The ones from Bergy and Marchy congratulating him and promising him a nice dinner the following night. And the one from Hampus. It was a simple message but he knew exactly what it meant.

Bloody Knuckles ~ “He hit you,” Hampus mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

“Hampus, I get hit all the time,” David sighed. “What was so different about this time?”

“I don’t wanna repeat it,” Hampus said, looking down at his feet. David cupped his jaw and tilted his head up to look at him. “He called you a…”

Memories in Ink ~ Pasta had this tattoo. A full sleeve on his right arm. One of Lindy’s favorite things to do when they were relaxing at the end of a long day was trace the lines of ink decorating his skin.

“I kinda wanna get a tattoo,” he said, shifting his head so his chin was resting on his chest.

“Really?” David asked, his face lighting up with a smile. Lindy nodded, a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said. “I love yours and I want one of my own.”

David Krejci/Adam McQuaid

Nap Corners ~ As one of the premier heavyweight fighters in the league not many people expected to find Adam McQuaid cozied up to locker room quiet guy David Krejci. And yet that’s exactly what was found in one of the TD Garden’s many nap corners. Those nap corners had been set up a long time ago and you could only find them if you knew what you were looking for and where you were looking for it.

The Glory Days ~ The initial reason he had come up to the box was to escape the pre-game chaos. Everyone was excited about celebrating his thousandth game and a few (Pasta, namely) were determined to get him to crack a smile. After Nick had joked about gifting him a pulse in the Christmas video Sophia did, it had been a running gag in the locker room. David was half convinced there were bets going around about whether or not he was going to show emotion in the ceremony before puck drop. All told, it was loud in the locker room and David needed to get away.

Sunday Morning Plans ~ “Hey,” Adam said after depositing his gear in its designated spot in the garage. “The team is doing a family skate tomorrow morning, do you want to go with me? You don’t have to, I know you don’t like being cold but-”

“Adam,” David said gently, stopping his rambling before it started. “I would love to go with you. I can’t promise I’ll be very fun, but as long as I’m with you I don’t care.”

Jeremy Swayman/Linus Ullmark

Room 339, Vancouver ~ “You fucking did it, you son of a bitch!” he laughed, letting himself spin around before going in for their normal goalie hug. Linus picked up his hat and pressed it into his chest. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Tell me about it in the locker room."

Save it For a Rainy Day ~ “Let’s go dance in the rain,” Jeremy smiled widely, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Linus closed his eyes, put his phone down, and hesitated before looking at his love.

“What?” he asked, blinking twice and fixing his gaze to Jeremy.

“Come on!” Jeremy exclaimed. He took three wide steps over to the bed and grabbed Linus’s hand, trying to pull him to his feet. “I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain.”

can't complain about much these days (i believe we'll be okay) ~ Somewhere along the line their cuddles became celebratory in addition to calming or grounding. It made sense, really, their go to on ice celebration was the big over dramatic hug that everyone, not just Bruins fans, had grown to love. So why wouldn’t that physical affection carry over into their office celebration?

Hopelessly Devoted ~ Jeremy felt like he was floating in space with nothing tying him down. Aimlessly drifting the cosmos until someone or something found him. He had felt that way for a while. Sure he had friends and family but he was craving something… more. A deeper connection. He wanted to feel anchored no matter where he was.

Linus was not what Jeremy expected to see when he opened his eyes.

i'm starving, darling (let me put my lips to something) ~ “Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the fluffy arm chairs. Jeremy suppressed a whine. Ully had to know what he was doing. There was no way he didn’t. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”

“It’s really nothing,” Jeremy said, shaking his head and staring at Linus’s feet. “I’m just in my own head about some things. It’s not a big deal, I just need to think everything through.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ully asked, ducking his head as he tried to catch Sway’s eye. “Come on, Jer. Open up to me.”

Okay. He had to know.

or

Sway has suppressed his need to be submissive for so long and he can't deal with it anymore

Brandon Carlo/Trent Frederic

4 Times Brandon Asked for a Hug + 1 Time Trent Asked for One ~ Hug

verb (used with object), hugged, hug·ging. 1.) to clasp tightly in the arms, especially with affection; embrace. 2.) to cling firmly or fondly to; cherish

Mine to Mark ~ “What?” Brandon asked, wheeling around. He jumped up from the couch and walked over to Trent. He opened his mouth to say something about Jeremy almost getting in a fight before he caught sight of the red mark blooming on Trent’s neck. He poked it and said, “What the fuck is that?”

or

Trent goes out and gets a hickey and Brandon gets possessive

Unadulterated ~ The buzzer sounded, the fans roared, and Dirty Water started to play. He had essentially Pavloved himself with that song, ever since Lake Tahoe. Bergy had quietly slipped him a pair of headphones on the plane ride back and he’d listened to it until he knew it word for word. And since the beginning of the season he and Brandon would always share a less than PG-13 moment in the showers after the game. He associated the music with good times, good company, and even better feelings.

'Till the Walls Come Caving in (You'll be Mine) ~ “Is something going on between you and Trent?” Nick asked point blank. Brandon cringed internally and sat down hard in his stall. Nick perched next to him and waited patiently. “Bambi, you can tell me if something's going on.”

“I know,” Brandon sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “We’ve, uh, been doing some stuff together.”

long live the reckless and the brave ~ Trent’s shoulders sagged with the weight of his day. He trudged down the hallway, dragging his feet a little bit as he went. Exhaustion was pulling him downward, tempting him to just curl up right there and take a nap like a feral cat on a stoop. But he could see the front door from where he was. Just a couple more feet.

Miscellaneous

I Can't do This Without You (Debrusk/McAvoy) ~ “JD,” he said steadily. Jake kept pushing his food around his plate. “Jake. Look at me.”

Jake listened, looking over at him. His blue eyes weren’t shining like they usually were. A frown pulled at the corners of Charlie’s mouth. He reached over and patted his shoulder before standing up, turning on his heel, and walking out of the player lounge.

missing piece of me (Pastrnak & Krejci) ~ “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, Pasta,” Krej said, standing up. Pasta nodded, a blank look on his face as he kept his eyes trained to the table in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a silent tear slip from his eyes and trail down his cheek as Krej leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

The feeling of emptiness settled into his chest as he heard the bell on the door jingle as it opened and closed. Krej was gone.

Trade Season Sucks (Forbort/Clifton) ~ Washington Capitals trading Garnet Hathaway and Dimitry Orlov to the Boston Bruins for Craig Smith, Connor Clifton, Jakub Zboril, and draft picks. More details to come.

or

Derek Forbort can't lose his defensive partner

I Won't Tell if You Won't (Lindholm/Lysell) ~ He leaned against the back wall and just observed. This was his first development camp with the Bruins so he was taking his opportunity to see just what he was going to be getting into. His eyes landed on a table in the corner. He recognized John Beecher instantly, but the blond boy sitting across from him got his attention. He tilted his head as he studied the way they interacted. Beech would say something that made the blond boy laugh, the blond boy would respond in kind.

Montreal Makes People Make Bad Decisions (Bergeron/Krejci) ~ Patrice had downed a few shots and some fruity drink handed to him by Looch. But the problem was Patrice was a bit of a lightweight. He could hold his own against the boys but after he had a few shots in his system he became rather unpredictable. And going down on one of the quieter, newer members of the locker room was unpredictable for sure. However he wouldn’t mind if it became predictable.

Czech Mates (Pastrnak/Zacha/Krejci) ~ Right before he left the Devils Miles Wood had caught his elbow and told him to keep an eye out. It wasn’t uncommon for players to… welcome their new teammates or linemates in a less than conventional way. Zacha had brushed him off, saying that there was no way that was a real thing. Wood had just raised an eyebrow and reiterated his warning.

It was around right now that he was wishing he’d listened.

Kinktober

2022

[intoafandom]

Why I like Kevan Miller, Steven Kampfer, Trent Frederic, Torey Krug, Tuukka Rask etc and why I will continue to like them.

(Sorry this is soooo long but it’s the only way I can explain)

So last night I got an anon ask and the person was asking why I like Kevan Miller when he’s a republican and I mentioned how I would make a separate post explaining my reasoning better and now that I have the time and its no longer 3 am, now seems like a good time lol.

So I’m gunna give a backstory about the players above that I mentioned and why a lot of bruinsblr doesn’t like them (so people that may not be aware know the context of why people are upset/dont like them). Most of bruinsblr doesn’t like Miller or Kampfer because they’re republicans. Everyone on bruinsblr is allowed to dislike them if they choose to. I recognize I’m in the minority on this app when I say I like and support Kevan Miller and Steven Kampfer. People on here also don’t like Torey Krug for the same reason and because he follows/followed Trump’s twitter account (since trumps account got deleted, torey now follows the “trump archives” account). People on here don’t like Tuukka anymore because over the summer, during all the blm stuff in the bubble, Tuukka went on tv in the bubble for an interview with a hat that said “Boston police” on it (the interview also aired right after the Bruins Organization posted about how they stand against racism, so people ended up calling Tuukka a racist hypocrite.) Last night, people on here found out that Trent Frederic follows Trump supporters and republicans on social media, which is why he’s losing some fans on this app. There are probably more stories about other players that I’m not aware of as well but these will be the ones I’m focusing on for now.

I am NOT going to start talking about my political opinions or my position on social issues. My account is called IntoAFandom for a REASON. So I can escape the real world and go “into a fandom” and have some peace. That’s why i never reblog or like or post about any real world events or issues. I want my blog to be solely about things, fandoms, and people that I love and care about. I don’t wanna come on my blog and see how a bombing happened or if someone got shot or this president signed this executive order etc etc. i wanna come on my blog and fangirl about Bucky Barnes being a sweetheart with kids or how amazing Matt Grzelcyk is at “tight turns” etc etc. Hence the name “IntoAFandom.”

I’m getting a lot of questions as to why I still support these players and I’ll definitely answer those questions in this post. Just so my mutuals know where I stand on this.

Now obviously it would be super easy for me to just go “well the player is super nice so i dont care about their political views.” And while that’s partially true for me, its not the only reason. For me, the reason is much deeper than that. I’ve never mentioned or talked about or even said it out loud. I touched upon what I’m about to say in that anon ask I got last night, but I’m going to go into detail now. It’s kind of hard to explain and the only way I can describe it is to tell you about my hockey journey up until this point, and specifically the 2018-19 season.

So one day in April in 2018, I was on school vacation and I was very bored. There was literally nothing on tv. However, as I was scrolling through the channels, I saw that a bruins game was on. I had never really watched hockey before in my life and the only experience I could remember having with it was when my mom was obsessed with them in like 2013 and how she set up this whole contraption to try and watch a game when a snowstorm made us lose connection. So with nothing else on the tv, crippling boredom, and being a Massachusetts native, I put the game on. It was literally just starting and the national anthem was about to start. We were playing the leafs lmao and it was game five or six of the series probably. I cant really remember because I didn’t think I would care this much about hockey at the time of watching it. But what I do remember was how CREEPY Tuukka looked😂 He was just standing there alone with a huge spotlight on him, head down, wearing these huge pads and looking straight up terrifying. I literally started laughing because of how creepy he looked. And then he put his cool ass mask on and right there I knew he was my favorite player. And to this day he is still my favorite. Tuukka was the first hockey player I EVER knew and could remember by name. I gotta admit, at first I thought his name was “Tuuk Arask” because that’s what it sounded like whenever the announcers would say it, specifically Jack Edwards lol. But then I was like “wait is it Arask or Rask” and after looking at his jersey like 3 games later I finally realized it was actually Rask lol. And I was like “Tuukka Rask. So freaking creepy lol. He’s my favorite.” I also have to mention that I’ve always been a sucker for people that play positions that no one else wants to play. Like for example, when I first started watching football in like 2014, my first ever favorite player was Stephen Gostkowski because he was the kicker. He was super good and he was instantly my fav. That’s what Tuukka was like for me. This huge, tall ass, creepy ass, goalie who was playing super well. How could i NOT like him. I didn’t really bother to learn any other players on the bruins team since they got eliminated in the second round. I remember saying to my mom “I don’t want them to be out. I wanna learn more.” I wanted to know more about the game and 6 games, or however many it was, wasn’t enough. So for some reason, I followed them throughout the offseason and in late September/early October I started watching a ton of their older games on YouTube. Not super old obviously, but games from like 2013-2017 ish. Just whatever I could find. And it was so interesting. I tried to only watch games where they actually won so I wasn’t wasting my time lol, but not having to worry about the score helped me start learning the game and some of the rules, like what an icing was for example. So then preseason games started and I got more into it. And then the beginning of the 2018-19 season started. I still didn’t really know any players besides Tuukka, even though I was watching YouTube games. The YouTube ones were more for me to learn the game and the rules rather than players (however, looking back, I did notice that Kevan Miller was a freaking beast, but I just didn’t acknowledge who he actually was. I just saw a player going absolute sicko mode and being like YEEEEAAAAH). The second player I could actually remember by name was Danton Heinen. I noticed he was playing really well and I was like omg who is that and I learned his name and he became one of my favorites with Tuukka. Next was Anders Bjork. I remember I was texting my friends and was trying to make it seem like I wasn’t a complete amateur at hockey knowledge, so I was like “hey guys, Bjork is back in the line up😃” and so I always remembered his name. Next was Ryan Donato because he was literally AWAYS smiling. Every time he was on camera he was SMILING. I loved it so much he was like a little bean. And so he was one of my favorites and i had a top three with him, heino and tuuks.

Now I was watching games and slowly learning important names like Chara, Bergeron, Marchand etc but it wasn’t really on my radar to actually learn all the players because I hadn’t even done that with the patriots who I had been watching and loving for yeeeears. But that was until I decided to watch a behind the b episode. And I was HOOKED. I instantly began to love and care about every single player on the roster. This was in like February of 2019. And that’s when I started trying to name everyone on the team, including their numbers. I made it a mission. I remember writing out lists in math class because I was so bored and would rather try to memorize hockey players. And that’s when I found bruinsblr. It was march by the time I started to post hockey stuff. And i made an instagram account so I could started editing them. I’ve had this blog since 2014 and its seen many phases, but march of 2019 was when I changed it into a mainly bruins blog. And I remember not knowing what “bruins lb” was and i never wanted to tag it because I thought it was like a club or something that I would be intruding on😂 So I started posting and reblogging bruins stuff and posting sucky bruins edits on here and on my insta account. And I started watching every single behind the b episode from every season and I was literally obsessed with the team. And then Donato got traded and i was heartbroken cuz I loved him and I was like Coyle is gunna have to wow me to get me to like him and he DID and i LOVE HIM. But then I decided to have a top five instead of a top three. And it was Tuukka, Krug, DeBrusk, Pasta, and Marchy. They were the players I noticed the most. And Marchy started LICKING people how could i not choose him😂 So then the playoffs come and we beat the leafs in game 7 AGAIN (and I literally missed the first two periods because I was at my confirmation) But I finally understood all the memes about the leafs and I finally understood hockey and hockey culture by this point. I knew the rules, the players, the memes, literally everything. And then we make it to the finals and get lil nas x singing old town road before game 1 and we get JD wearing that stupid hat😂 and the two people from The Office (one of them wanted the bruins to win and the other wanted the blues) and it was all just amazing for me. Then we lost and i was devastated. And we had to see pictures of CMac sobbing on the ice and JD sitting alone in his stall crying and all of them were so sad and after that journey we just went through i was fvcking crying too. We didn’t win, but that 2018-19 season is SO special for me.

The people on this roster (minus gemel smith and lee stempniak) are EXTREMELY special to me. They TAUGHT me hockey. They turned me on to an entirely new culture. I got to experience my first real bit of hockey. I got to experience EVERYTHING about hockey with them (besides the cup) in this ONE season of hockey. I saw the preseason games in china, the halloween visit to to the hospital, Chara bringing pies to the homeless, them buying toys for kids in the hospital at Christmas then visiting them, the new years game outside against the hawks, trade deadline crushing my heart, every round of the playoffs, players pushing through crazy injuries, loving players, despising other teams, all the memes, all the jokes, all the players. Everything. The 2018-19 season is SO incredibly special for me because it’s the first time I ever experienced real hockey and watched an entire season. The people on that roster mean so much to me because of that. Now take a look at the names on that roster. Rask. Krug. Miller. Kampfer. Frederic. They all helped me experience my first year of hockey. Freddy in his first freaking game, getting into a fight😂 Miller and Kampfer were BEASTS on the ice. Krug being a SPECTACULAR little defenseman, quarterbacking the pp and sticking up for himself and SLAMMING thomas. Tuukka Rask being the brick wall. There is no way that I could ever dislike the people on that roster unless the did something suuuuuper bad. I don’t know if you would call it hero worship or whatever, but those people on that roster are so fucking special to me. Even ones like JFK and Vaak and Colby that didn’t play that many games. They still made an impact for me as a hockey fan. THAT is the main reason why I will never stop liking and supporting tuuks, krugger, kampfs, millsy, or freddy. Everyone on that roster has a special place in my heart and I’m not going to let their political views change or tamper with the incredible experience they gave me during that 2018-19 season. I wont ever love another team as much as I loved that specific roster. And no one is going to change that for me. I dont care about their political views or whatever. For me, the experience and the feelings they gave me trump anything i may or may not disagree with. That roster is so special to me, I cant bring myself to dislike any of those people. I will always like those players, no matter how republican or democrat or whatever. Political views dont matter to me when it comes to those players.

Now besides all of that and the experience they gave me, I do believe that they’re still good people even tho they may be republican. I wanna start with Tuukka because it literally doesn’t make sense to me. Tuukka is not even AMERICAN. I dont think he cares that much about American politics since im pretty sure most his family lives in Finland. People got mad at him for wearing a Boston police hat. But I think those people are forgetting that Tuukka has been in boston for soooo long. There have probably been multiple occasions where the police had to help him or the team for some reason or another (they are technically famous after all). Tuukka wearing a hat that says Boston Police doesn’t make him a bad person. He was probably just showing support to the people that helped support HIM as well as his family and teammates. I follow Tuukka on insta and he literally NEVER posts anything political. Probably because NEVER actually posts ANYTHING at all lol. Tuukka had been my favorite from the start and theres almost nothing he could ever do that would make me dislike him.

As for the other 4, and any other players on the team that may be republican (honestly i bet most of them are because 1) most hockey players are and 2) a lot of the guys are christian/catholic and most christian/catholic people are republican as well) I choose to believe that political opinions dont make you a bad person. I like to believe that it depends on the circumstances for every individual. Now I’m not gay or black or anything. Im an 18 year old, straight white girl. So obviously i dont know what its really like for someone to hate or disagree with my race, sexuality, etc. I saw someone say (sorry I forget who it was) that they keep thinking “well what would that player say about me because im gay. What would they actually think about me. I cant support them.” And honestly that’s extremely valid. I never thought about it that way before. So if Kevan Miller for example was out here posting a bunch of homophobic stuff like “i hate gays” or “gays are all stupid” or anything like that, then yeah my opinions on him would probably change in some way. But I follow him on insta and i know the stuff he post about. I have NEVER seen him say anything like that. Ive never heard any bruin say anything like that. From what I’ve seen, they all seem like super nice, sweet, supportive people when they’re off the ice. (I think it’s also important to mention that I follow EVERYONE on the 2018-19 roster. I follow all of their instas. Most of them dont have twitter, but I follow all the ones that do. It’s part of the whole “that roster is incredibly special to me” thing). I choose to believe that following republicans or being one yourself doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, especially when you consider the different circumstances that every individual is under as humans. We all experience different things and that always plays a role in how you act or the opinions you have or the people you support. Someone’s political opinions have never stopped me from liking people. Ive clearly shown that I don’t mind republicans at all, but that doesn’t mean im going to dislike democrats either. Most of the actors/ singers that i like are democrats. And it just happens that most of the athletes i like are republicans. The political stuff doesn’t matter to me. I just dont want it being slapped in my face 24/7. I dont care if you’re a republican or democrat as long as you aren’t constantly talking to me about politics or social issues or trying to change my mind on stuff. Hopefully you can try to see my point of view on this and UNDERSTAND why I like them. Again, I’ve never told my hockey story to anyone so please don’t try and invalid my feelings about the season or the players.

Please, I beg, please don’t comment on this calling racist or something. Please dont try and change me mind. Please dont tell me i need to educate myself. I know WHY i like these players. I know where they stand politically and who they support. But these players are too special to ME for me to actually give a sht about if they like trump or not. Honestly tho, feel free to give your opinion (especially if you’re gay or black or anything) cuz i dont mind hearing other standpoints as long as you aren’t mean about it or try to change my mind. If i change my mind, which i probably wont, I want it to be on my own terms. Please remember that we ARE still a hockey family 💛🖤💛

(Also I’m NEVER talking about this again. If anyone ever asks or something like this comes up again im just gunna link/ reblog this post)

(Also, thank you to whoever made it this far and actually read all of that. ESPECIALLY if you’re someone that doesn’t agree with me. Its good to hear multiple standpoints on this stuff.)

[fanforthefics]

How about a magical AU of body switching with bennguin? 👀

So over 2 months late, I finally figured out how to do this...

1) The first time Tyler switches with Jamie, it’s not a big deal.

Hockey players don’t switch often, per se, but it still happens enough that the first time Tyler switches, with Marchy, it takes the locker room a good half hour to swap the stories of who and when they switched. Apparently Marchy and Bergy hop in and out of each other all the time. Bergy also has a story about the time in 2010 when he and Crosby switched for an hour before a game; he tells it offhand but personally Tyler thinks the only thing more stressful than being in St. Patrice’s body would be being in Sidney fucking Crosby’s. He’s pretty happy chilling in Marchy’s, where he can be as annoying as he wants, thanks.

So it happens, and there are rules, both official—you don’t even have to scratch anymore if you’re switching on the same team, though of course often it’s best to scratch because people don’t know how to skate in each other’s bodies. Though there are stories that the Sedins don’t skip a beat when they switch, and that Crosby’s still lobbying to spend a game in Fleury’s body just to finally get him that Vezina—and unofficial, like how you’re not supposed to really talk about it outside the locker room or to burn any bridges.

Which all means that the first time Tyler blinks and he’s in a body a little bigger and a little heavier than he’s used to, he’s not really thrown. Or, no, it’s cool, because you switch with people you’re simpatico with and it’s only been a few months since he came to Dallas and it’s cool he and Jamie are so chill. But it’s not a thing—it happened overnight, so he wanders out of Jamie’s room, and into the kitchen, where Jordie’s making coffee.

“Hey—“ Jordie’s eyes narrow. Tyler’s pretty impressed, actually; Tyler hasn’t even opened his mouth. “Who are you?”

“Wow, rude,” Tyler retorts, and Jordie relaxes.

“Hey, Segs,” he says, “Figured it was you. Need to run downstairs to deal with Marshall?”

“My body, Jamie can handle him,” Tyler decides. He trusts Jamie. Or at least of him to come up and ask, it’s not like he doesn’t know where Tyler is. “Coffee?” He’s seen Jamie in the mornings, he knows that coffee isn’t necessary, exactly, but he’d still like it.

Jordie gives him coffee. It’s a few minutes later than there’s a knock on the door, and Tyler’s body is there. Tyler’s only switched a few times, so it’s still weird, seeing his body from the outside like this. How Jamie holds him differently, his shoulders folding in a little.

“You should have told me that hit was bad,” is the first thing Jamie says, rubbing at the bruise Tyler went to sleep with on his side. Tyler rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, mom. I can feel exactly how much you hurt.”

“Whatever,” Jamie mutters, and Tyler didn’t know his body could look sheepish like that. “Jord—“

“One Segs coffee, here you go. Now you two handle it.” Jordie hands Jamie a mug of coffee, which Tyler knows his body needs, and then goes to his room. Tyler doesn’t think there’s much to handle, really; generally the switches don’t last more than a couple hours, twenty-four at most—though there’s a story that once Lemieux and Jagr switched for a full 72 hours, which no one’s been able to get either of them to confirm or deny.

So yeah, there’s nothing to handle. They get ready and go to practice and Tyler figures out what it feels like to skate like Jamie and Jamie bounces off a few guys he’s used to barreling through, and then sometime at their pre-game nap they’re back and its’ fine.

2) The second time they switch, Jamie’s a little more nervous. It’s just shitty timing, is all, is what he tells Segs, who rolls Jamie’s eyes, and grins, cocky and careless, an expression that Jamie’s body doesn’t pull off. Jamie really hates switching in general—he doesn’t like learning a new body and he really hates knowing someone else is inside his, figuring him out. It’s okay when it’s Jordie, who he switches with the most, but when it’s Tyler...Tyler, who was hot and knew it in his own body, and now is figuring out the differences in Jamie’s. Not that he wouldn’t have known before, but it’s…Jamie doesn’t like to think about it.

And also— “We can’t cancel,” Ruff tells him, them, and Jamie doesn’t swear or anything, but he feels like it.

“Are you sure?” Jamie asks, again. He knows. He knows that cancelling for no real reason would just mean the press would jump on a story where there isn’t one, but, he can’t do a press thing in Tyler’s body, because that’s not how it’s done, and—

“I’ll be fine,” Tyler says, easy, and Jamie bites at Tyler’s lip. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Tyler to try. He does—Tyler’s been nothing but committed since he showed up. But Jamie’s still a new captain, and he already feels like he’s not enough and—

“Hey,” Tyler says, after they leave Ruff’s office. Jamie has to look up to look at him, which is a sensation that takes getting used to; he usually doesn’t have to look up to many people. Tyler probably doesn’t either, to be fair. “It really will be okay.”

“I know, but—“ Jamie goes to run a hand through his hair, but Tyler’s is shorter. “Just, I don’t—“ Either Tyler does great, and everyone knows how Jamie’s not a good captain, or he doesn’t do great, and everyone thinks Jamie failed. It’s a lose lose.

“Do you not trust me?” Tyler asks, and he says it cocky but Jamie’s learned him by now. Jamie shakes his head, instinctive.

“Of course I trust you, but—“

“Then don’t worry.”

“I will worry,” Jamie snaps, and takes a breath. “Look, Segs, this is—they still don’t know me as a captain, and I have to impress them, be someone they and you all rely on, and I can’t, and I can’t right now, so—“ Jamie cuts himself off, because Tyler didn’t need all that. “Just, take this seriously, please?”

Tyler’s eyes widen. Jamie knows his eyes are stupid big, so it’s really noticeable. “Yeah.” He swallows. “Don’t worry, Benny,” he says, and this time it’s not quite so easy. “I will.” Then he smiles again, that Tyler Seguin smile that somehow translates through to Jamie’s body. “I’ll even mumble in all the right spots.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jamie says, but he can’t help but smile back.

(Tyler does take it seriously, and he does do fine, if more articulate than Jamie is normally. They’re back in their own bodies by the time Jamie can find Tyler again, and Tyler grins at him, which is even more in his own body. “Told you to trust me,” he says, and it’s in that tone of his that’s trying to be careless but is really eager.

Jamie nods back, puts his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I do,” he says, and Tyler goes quiet.)

3) So they switch in the next few years. More than most people. Apparently they’re pretty compatible, which makes Tyler slap Jamie’s shoulder and crow about best bros for life, or some shit like that. So they spend plenty of time in each other’s bodies, and it’s part of growing up.

Jamie sees what his body looks like when carried with Tyler’s confidence, that he’s got no reason to fold in on himself and mumble. He sees what it feels like to be in Tyler’s body, the way it feels to have people look when he’s expecting it, and starts to learn what it means when people do that when he’s in his own. He learns how Tyler skates and what it means to not be bigger than most people on ice, which doesn’t encourage his fighting habit, but Jamie’s body can take it and others can’t.

Tyler sees what it feels like to have the weight of responsibility, what it means to carry that if even for a little while. He learns how Jamie hurts, all the time, and doesn’t complain—though he certainly rats him out to the trainers, Jordie, and his mom; anyone who’ll listen and yell at Jamie for the way his hips scream at Tyler whenever he moves. He learns, too, what it means when he has to sit and listen; he learns how to pretend to be an anchor at least.

They don’t only switch with each other, of course. Jamie and Jordie still switch fairly regularly, though if it’s not a deal for anyone its really not a deal for them, who’ve been doing it since they started skating. They switch with their other line mates occasionally, other players. On their assorted national teams they switch sometimes too, of course. But it’s never quite like it is—it’s because they’ve been switching so much, Jamie rationalizes. That’s why Tyler’s body is so comfortable to him.

(Tyler thinks, well. He thinks that Jamie’s body is more comfortable to him because Jamie is comfortable to him, because somehow in the last few years everything about Jamie has become his home, because he’ll take closeness to Jamie however he can take it. He thinks, sometimes guiltily, that it happens so much because he wants so much, because it’s an excuse to feel out Jamie’s body even if it’s not nearly how he wants and he never crosses the unspoken lines of what you can do with other people’s bodies. He thinks that there’s nothing quite like the fix of how Jamie looks at him when he handles the responsibilities of Jamie’s body with care, when they’re back in their own bodies and Jamie smiles at him not like it’s unexpected but like he knew Tyler would do it, like he always has.)

4) Then—they stop switching. For years. After spending a few hours in each other’s bodies about once a month, it’s down to nothing; and it’s not that they stop switching totally, either. Jamie and Jordie still bounce around, even after Jordie’s traded; Tyler and Rads are pretty compatible; watching Bish and Jamie try to navigate each other’s bodies is frankly hysterical. But they don’t switch with each other.

“It’s because we’ve learned everything we could ever know about each other,” Tyler says, laughing, when he’s asked about it, but Jamie—it worries him. He’d always secretly been a little proud of how often he and Tyler switched, for all its inconveniences. It meant that the chemistry really was there, that Jamie didn’t make up the fact that somehow someone like Tyler and someone like him clicked. So when it stops—the chemistry’s still there, on the ice, and they’re still friends, but Jamie…he doesn’t know. Something must have changed.

He asks about it, a little, when he realizes just how long it’s been—sees if any of the other guys he knows switches a lot stopped at all. He gets a very politely apologetic message back from Sid, who tells him that he and Geno still switch fairly regularly but he can ask around; something sharper from Pricey that it’s been off and on since PK’s trade but it hadn’t stopped before that; Duncs says it’s slowed down but he doesn’t sound worried. He gets the single word yes back from Carts, but Jamie’s not going to press on that one. Tyson’s probably the most expectedly unhelpful; his whole team sounds like they barely spend any time in their own bodies. But Tyson is the one who says, frankly, does Segs have an opinion? because he does unfortunately know Jamie too well.

And Jamie wants to think he’s grown up, that he’s not the kid who couldn’t look anyone in the eye, but…if what it comes down to is that Tyler’s moved on to other friends, now that he doesn’t need just Jamie; if Tyler’s gotten tired of Jamie everywhere but on the ice, then Jamie would rather wonder about it then hear a yes or no. Jamie doesn’t think he’s a coward, usually, but sometimes, well. Maybe he is. Maybe he’d rather pretend to have some parts of Tyler than learn he doesn’t have him at all.

Except then Jamie’s the last to leave one of Tyler’s hangouts, just the two of them a little tipsy on Tyler’s couch with the dogs splayed out between them, and Jamie looks over at Tyler, thinks about how he’s grown since he first came, how he’s filled out the boyish frame and how much more settled he looks, and how much Jamie loves him, and— “Is there something wrong with us?” He asks, before he can think about it.

Tyler’s brow furrows. “Why would there be something wrong?” He tilts his head, drags his gaze over Jamie, in a way that somehow doesn’t make Jamie uncomfortable anymore. “You look okay. I’m okay.”

“We don’t switch anymore.”

Tyler grins, slow and lazy. “I told you, it’s because we don’t need it.”

“Yeah, but—“

“No, it is.” Tyler rocks up onto his knees, so he can reach Jamie. “I don’t need to be in your body to know that you’re still hurting from that fight last week but aren’t complaining.” He pokes at Jamie’s shoulder, which has been bothering him. “To know that you need some water soon so you don’t get a hangover.” His finger’s on Jamie’s temple. Jamie shivers. “To know that you’re worried about something, and have been.” His finger moves to Jamie’s jaw, then pokes at where Jamie’s dimple would be, if it was there. Jamie snorts, and Tyler grins. He’s very close, his eyes glinting in the low light. “To know exactly where that is.”

Jamie can’t help but smile at that, because Tyler always makes him smile. Because he does know that too, knows every inch of Tyler, knows the shape of Tyler’s grin and the curve of every tattoo. But— “That’s not—a lot of the guys have that too, and they don’t stop, I asked.”

Tyler settles back on his heels. “They aren’t us.”

“Yeah, but—are you really saying we don’t know each other like Sid and Malkin?” Jamie asks. “I don’t...I don’t want things to be wrong between us.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Tyler says it confidently, clearly, but—Jamie does know Tyler, and so he knows what Tyler looks like when he’s not saying something.

“Segs.” Tyler blinks. “Tyler.”

Tyler swallows. “Don’t ask me, Jamie. Please.”

“If something’s wrong, I need to know,” Jamie argues. He gets it, he doesn’t want to push, but if something’s wrong he needs to know so he can fix it, for the team and for them. “It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. We—“ Then Tyler’s leaning in, and Jamie thought he knew Tyler, but it barely pings that he does actually know what Tyler looks like when he’s about to kiss someone before Tyler does kiss him, just a press of lips before he’s pulling away, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Don’t hate me.” He tries for a laugh, but it doesn’t quite land.

Jamie blinks. “Segs.”

“That’s what’s off between us,” Tyler says, then bolts to his feet. “I’m going to—dogs. You can think about it. Figure out how to fix it, because it’s been years and I haven’t been able to figure it out.”

He’s out the door before Jamie can figure out what to say. In the end, he leaves, because it’s pretty clear Tyler’s not coming back until he does.

5) Tyler wakes up in a body not his own that he knows too well, and swears at the ceiling. “Seriously?” He demands, and rolls out of bed.

He wasn’t wrong about Jamie’s shoulder hurting, and there are even more aches and pains than the last time he was in Jamie’s body, years ago. Tyler’s not surprised. Jamie’s put on more muscle, in the last few years; his hair and beard changed the feel of his face, a little. Nothing Tyler couldn’t have expected. If he ever thought he’d be here again, and definitely not after last night.

(This is what Tyler hadn’t said—yeah, they knew each other well enough not to switch. But there was a secret, the thing Jamie didn’t want to see that bled out of Tyler whenever he looked at Jamie, the thing that Tyler couldn’t say, and Tyler couldn’t help but think that’s what was there, that Tyler’s wanting had grown out of control until it was between them.).

But then he’d been an idiot, last night, but—Jamie had been looking at him all worried and plaintive with his irresistibly big eyes and maybe Tyler had wanted to stop that look more than he’d wanted to keep the secret, or maybe he was sick of keeping the secret, or maybe it had meant something, that Jamie had been worrying, that he’d been asking. Or maybe this was just another time Tyler had been reckless and stupid.

And now—now he’s in Jamie’s body again, for the first time in years. He doesn’t know what that means.

He brushes Jamie’s teeth anyway, deals with his morning the same way they always have. It’s conveniently an off day today, and Tyler had been planning to avoid Jamie as much as he could, if Jamie let him. To have a day to wallow in knowing the feel of Jamie’s lips, the scrape of his beard. But apparently that’s not how the universe works.

Just to torture himself, Tyler puts a finger on Jamie’s lips, traces them. That’s all, he’s done now.

And he hadn’t been kidding last night, Jamie had needed to drink water and clearly hadn’t. So he goes to do that, and that’s when the door opens and there’s the scraping of dog claws that means that his boys are here.

Sure enough, they all swarm him—he’s never been quite able to tell if they can tell that he’s him or if they just love Jamie too. Jamie’s a few seconds behind them. It’s still a little bit of a shift, seeing how clear it is to Tyler that it’s Jamie in his body, how the way he holds himself is so himself even if he’s never quite figured that out. How Jamie’s got the expression on that he’s going to face the firing squad head on, which isn’t one that Tyler’s used to seeing in the mirror, is definitely a Jamie expression. God, Tyler loves him, and this is going to really suck.

“So, I guess we don’t have anything to worry about,” Tyler says, before Jamie can. He leans down to scratch Gerry’s head. “Switching back to normal.”

“Tyler.” Tyler’s voice isn’t as good at the firm captain voice as Jamie’s own, and Tyler doesn’t look up. “Come on, Ty.”

“I guess it was my fault, then. I kept a secret and it meant we didn’t—”

“What secret?” Jamie asks, and Tyler snorts.

“Come on. You know me better than anyone. You literally know me inside and out.” He gestures at Jamie-in-Tyler’s-body. “Do you really not know?”

“I—didn’t.” Jamie sounds surprised about that, disappointed in himself the way he gets when he feels like he let the team down. That’s not okay, ever.

“I really didn’t want you to. I think that’s why we didn’t switch, because I was trying to keep us—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worried. I just didn’t want to have, you know. This conversation.”

“What’s this conversation?”

“The one where you’re very you and mumble something about how you love me as a friend and all that,” Tyler says. He’s rehearsed this one a fair amount. He didn’t think he’d have to see himself say it, but hey, he can handle some new torture. “It’s fine, I get it.”

“What if that’s not the conversation I want to have?” Jamie asks, and Tyler’s head jerks up. The expression on his face—Tyler thinks he might sort of know it, but only because he knows how he feels when he looks at Jamie. “I—I didn’t think about it, but you know me, I didn’t…but, I mean, you’re—you, even when you’re in my body, and—” This isn’t the mumbling Tyler had expected. This is—

“You’ve got to use your words, bro,” Tyler tells him, because there’s something dangerously like hope now, and that’s—he need to squash it fast if he’s going to squash it.

Jamie makes a face, and it’s recognizably the face he makes when he’s frustrated by people demanding he talk. But he takes a breath. “I hadn’t thought about it until last night,” he says, slowly, carefully. Looking Tyler right in the eye, because it’s Jamie, and of course he is. “But—that doesn’t mean I don’t want to think about it now.”

“Look, Jamie.” Tyler says. He needs—this has to be out there. “I love with you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said.”

“No, not in a bro way—or yes, in a bro way,  but also in a in love with you way.” Jamie makes a face, quick and gone. “What?”

“Just—that’s not something I thought my body would tell me,” he says, and Tyler snorts, starts to laugh.

“Seriously, bro? Now?”

“It’s weird!” Jamie protests, ducking his head in a way that would flush his cheeks if it were on his body. Tyler’s vain enough to think that it’s pretty cute on his body too, if not as cute.

“Weird because it’s your body, or because of what I said?” He asks. Marshall’s nosing at his leg, and he pets him absently.

“I mean, it’s weird both ways, but not in a bad way. I—“ Jamie shakes his head. “I, you know I’m shit at this, Segs, I—“ he shakes his head again, takes a step forward, then stops. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Well, I’d have kissed you then, but it’s my body and that’d be even weirder,” Jamie starts out strong, and ends up muttering, and Tyler—he can’t do anything but laugh, because Jamie is reacting better than he’d ever dream and he’s being fucking cock blocked by his own body.

“Fine. So when we switch back—“

“Then, um. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Tyler knows just how stupid Jamie’s face looks when he’s doing a dumb smile; he hadn’t known how stupid his own face looks. He can’t bring himself to care.

6) “I’m telling you, it’s weird,” Jamie says, again, months later, when they’ve switched back and kissed and more and then switched a few more times, for good measure—not as often as in the early years, but enough that Jamie doesn’t worry about it anymore. Also enough that all the guys he’d asked can be comforted that no, they’re fine, Jamie was paranoid.

“Okay, but flip side.” Jamie’s body rolls over, props himself up on one arm. It’s a very Tyler move, the way he likes to lean over Jamie and kiss him until Jamie rolls them over because he’s done with Tyler’s teasing. “It’s been a week and I want to fuck.”

“Tyler,” Jamie rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Jamie,” Tyler counters. “Yes. You want me to.”

“Yeah, you, not me.”

“I thought you said I was me no matter what body I’m in.”

“Yeah, but it’s me, so—no.”

“Okay, fine.” Tyler grins. “How about you don’t look, and I blow you? I don’t have any problem with blowing myself.”

“No, really?”

“Hey, I work hard for that body, I like to appreciate it,” Tyler retorts, smirking. He drags a finger up his own abs, which Jamie couldn’t conceive of but does send shivers up his spine. “And I know what that body likes.”

He makes a compelling argument, as long as Jamie closes his eyes and he doesn’t talk. Jamie sighs. “Fine. But don’t talk, I don’t want to hear myself.” He shuts his eyes, but he can still hear Tyler’s grin in his own voice.

“I don’t need to be talking for what I’m doing.” Jamie groans. He’s pretty sure other captains don’t have to deal with this shit.

Not that he’s complaining.

[blindbatalex]

for @kureally ice cream & prefix boys SET IN THE DISCO MOB AU because why not??? [[basically jake is an emt from close to present day and accidentally travels back to the 1920s where the rest of the bruins are a mob]]

~*~

“I can’t believe you brought me here,” Jake says happily for what must be the third time since they walked in. “I thought gangsters didn’t do ice cream parlors.”

“We don’t,” Charlie replies, with the right amount of gruffness. “It’s a one time thing.”

Seated in the parlor around them are dolled up housewives with their kids and young couples on sanitized dates, girls twirling their hair and guys laughing awkwardly at jokes that are really not that funny. And across from him is Jake who is as energetic and excited as a puppy and hasn’t stopped grinning ever since they walked in. It’s not manly how much Jake grins or how he actually mutters about ice cream in his sleep. There is nothing about this or him that is manly in fact. Charlie had met knee high kids who are more manly than Jake. 

“One time thing--” Jake licks his lips. “Lots of guys told me that before.”

Charlie touches the holster of his gun under the table, revels in its cold familiar texture, just as Jake swirls his spoon in the ridiculous concoction in his glass cup--layers of marshmallow cream, whatever that is supposed to mean, and chocolate ice cream drizzled with chocolate sauce and finished with a cherry on top. Slowly. Another thing that is not at all manly about Jake are his eyelashes. No man needs eyelashes that pretty. 

“But then,” Jake says and he looks up now to meet Charlie’s eye, and the smile playing on his lips much more deliberate than his usual excited puppy grin. “Once they get a taste--” He finishes scooping ice cream onto the spoon and places the candied cherry on top. “They always come back for more.” He extends the spoon across the table all the way to Charlie’s lips. 

“Try this.”

Charlie’s heart does a thing he is wholly unprepared for--as if someone gave him a forceful shove right on the chest. 

He quickly opens his mouth and accepts the ice cream--before anyone can see--and scrunches his face.

“That’s disgusting,” he tells Jake because it is--fuck.

The chocolate and the cream blend together in his mouth in icy, delicious goodness and fuck. Charlie strangled a guy with his bare hands last week at the docks. He is not the kind of guy who sits at ice cream parlors and eats sundaes, let alone from the hand of another man. Another anyone.

Jake shrugs and goes back to his cup. 

“Your loss. More for me.”

Charlie wonders if he imagines the look that crosses Jake’s face, the type that’s gone when you blink, the way some of his unending energy seems to deflate. 

He touches his gun again, the way more religious people would with a cross. Honestly, fuck Krej and Zee for effectively assigning Jake to him to babysit and fuck Jake for spending every other waking moment whining about sweets and how much better they are 'where he is from’. In no way shape or form did Charlie ask for this.

“Matt is like a brother to me--” he starts, reminding himself the real reason they are here. (And maybe so that Jake will stop pouting.)

“You don’t say. I didn’t infer that at all for example, from how you wouldn’t leave his bedside for a single moment or even let go of his hand.”

Charlie hisses.

“You know this is why everyone is threatening to shoot you all the time, right?”

But what Jake did--Charlie had seen nothing like it really. He showed up at their doorstep one day last week in his weird clothes, and with his weird words, and Tuukka was considering actually shooting him, but then Krej and Marchy brought Matt in--blood gushing from his arm and more than half gone. But Jake--it was as if he was transformed. He started yelling instructions, worming his way to Matt past two gangsters, which was no small feat on its own. He had Charlie holding Matt’s hand and talking to Matt while he controlled the bleeding. He had them raid a clinic and didn’t sleep for almost twenty four hours, and in the end Matt was fine. A little weak, even now, but very much so alive. It was nothing short of a miracle.

“I’m sorry,” Jake says now, more serious than Charlie has seen him be outside the context of a medical emergency. “Thank you.”

Charlie grits his teeth. Talking about--this stuff doesn’t come easy to him. “Thank you,” he still says, not meeting Jake’s eye “for saving Matt’s life.”

His grandma always used to say that God works in mysterious ways. If Jake is an angel--though it would explain the eyelashes--Charlie has some serious questions about how things work up there.

*

Charlie is ready to finally take a full, relieved breath when Jake eats the last spoonful of his sundae. But if only he would be so lucky--because Jake keeps right on, scraping the bottom of the glass with his spoon with a meticulousness Krej would love applied to their bootleg liquor business. 

Charlie rolls his eyes, already regretting what he is about to say. And then asks Jake if he wants another cup.

“OhmyGodcanwe??” Jake asks all in one breath. The spectacularly wild grin Charlie gets rewarded to is almost worth the pain of another half an hour he will have to spend in this godforsaken place.

Not that he is telling Jake that.

Ever.

[saint-patrice]

Tbh I would like to have the 34 *other* Bergy pics on your shortlist, complete with commentary lolol. And then (if you’re still waiting that is) any other Marchy pics with commentary? xD xD

oh my godddd you are my favourite person anon - ask and ye shall receive 😎 i should maybe warn that while this doesn’t have actual nsfw content you probably wouldn’t want to read this to your kids as a bedtime story. anyway, here we go: 

this was very close to making the original list. i like the soft lighting and the kind of floofy hair, yet he still looks like he could absolutely fuck me up (both like in a fight and various other ways). this photo gets me thinking some thoughts ™ if i am being honest

a literal saint and god amongst men right here. his brown eyes are so soft and his little smile puts me at ease. this is a man who would treat me right (fact). this photo is also from quite deep into the playoffs so the beard is going a little wild, and whilst i’m glad it isn’t like this all of the time, i very much appreciate it when it’s around.

O CAP’N MY CAP’N (sorry zee). nah for real this exudes some real sexy alternate energy. if i were on the opposing team and i saw this formidable man just skating around looking like that i think i’d just go back down the tunnel and hide in the locker room. this man will fucking kneecap you for the sake of a goal if that’s what it takes. and then i remember that it’s patrice and he’s the nicest man alive and he would literally never, but that’s still the energy this image has. and i ain’t saying i don’t like it.

okay this is just cute. they look like 2 dads who aren’t entirely sure how to take a selfie but are willing to try. the outfits lend this a slightly chaotic energy - i can’t commend zee’s colour combo if i’m honest, and when juxtaposed with the plaid shirt it kind of hurts my head. but it adds to the dad energy so i still love it. also this is from chara’s ig and the caption is super sweet.

DADS WITH THEIR KIDS ALWAYS GETS ME. i don’t even want kids, nor do i particularly like them, but seeing a man with his child is the cutest thing in the world and this, predictably, is no exception. patrice’s son 100% has his eyes which is really cute. speaking of patrice’s eyes, he may be smiling here but if you look into his eyes all you will see is fear - that child does not appear too bothered about remaining upright on the ice, and i suspect thay bergy is concerned about this. it would be criminal for me to not comment on the jeans. bergy has some exceptional thighs as these jeans do an excellent job of highlighting that.

this is Hot, and i’m not accepting criticism on that opinion. the crisp white shirt w no jacket or tie, and the top buttons undone???? i need a lie down. the hands are also making a nice appearance which i can always appreciate. basically what i’m saying is that i’m jealous of that snake this is an excellent photo and i owe the bruins instagram person a drink for posting it.

do you remember when i said bergy had marvellous thighs? well take a fucking sip babes - they’re like tree trunks carved out of carrara marble. if i have to die i want it to be because they crushed my skull. this is also one of the clearest photos i’ve seen of his tattoo, so it has that going for it too ( sidenote if anyone has an image with literally a pixel of his tattoo pls send it my way, i’m getting desperate at this point). i also think men in jewellery is a good look so i’m digging his beaded bracelets and silver chain. fantastic picture all round.

yeah okay there’s no escaping that the main reason this one made the list is 🍑. it’s exquisite. those pants also do a great job on the thighs too. the hair, socked feet (no i dont have a fetish i just think ppl in their socks with no shoes is kind of funny), and hands get an honourable mention

is this the only picture that has ever mattered? i’d believe it. patrice just lovingly gazing down at his son giving his hockey husband a handshake? you just can’t beat it. i have also been emotionally ruined by that tiny #37 jersey oh my

in the interest of being polite, i will describe this look as rugged. he has probably objectively looked better but i just like this photo and awful lot.

i don’t think i can give any commentary on this without saying something genuinely not suitable for public eyes. the 2 things i will say are: the only thing keeping me going completely feral horny looking at this is those pants,, if they were black or navy i’d be dead; and patrice i am begging you to do up a few more buttons on your shirt or remove it completely or i’m not going to live much longer.

oh man i just love this??? i can’t even explain why. the lack of much beard and the expression in his eyes just makes him look massively soft - i would give him a kiss on the nose and a cuddle in this photo

(gif via @gaudreau) i am slightly loathe to admit this bc it sounds weird but cuts and bruises can sometimes be a real look so this checks that box for me. his smile when he talks truly is one of the finer things in life too. also the lil shrug. i love you mr pikachu

a** fantastic **angle. this is just prime beautiful bergy.  excellent level of beard imo, the lighting shows off his v nice bone structure, and the nose is looking fab as always. weird observation of the day is that his neck looks nice in this

i mean obviously this had to go in - lord knows it’s fucking iconic. i have so many questions about how this situation came to be (aside from the fact that alcohol was involved. did brad initiate it? or patrice? why are they spinning? what the fuck? how the fuck? why was i not invited?) but anyway, this photo increased my thirst for a shirtless bergy photo at least two-hundredfold. at this point it’s a need not a want. i don’t think i can continue to comment on this without straying into nsfw territory so we’ll leave it at that. oh the things i would do

classic humble patrice making an appearance here, reminding us that he is not only the most handsome bastard to ever walk planet earth, but he’s a great guy too. just can’t hate him. and boy is he handsome in this gif. excellent stubble (im really invested in his facial hair if you hadn’t noticed), and the smile that could melt even my cold heart on display here. also bonus points for the previously mentioned thing about cuts/bruises. (sorry). i love this one 

in contrast to some of the prior ones, this picture is so cute that i can make nothing but pg comments about it. this is exactly the same face we all make when someone points a camera at us and says “cheese!” and i love that. the man looks good in white. good, wholesome content right here.

(gif via @weekendatbergysblog) okay the baby is cute but the fucking headband is what gets me in this. i’m able to make no further comment because this short circuits my brain.

(gif via @davidpastrnut)when i first saw this gif i had to go find the source video because i didn’t believe he actually said that but i’m here to tell you: he did. i love these hockey husbands so much. also i saw this tagged as “# hot waiter” one time and i still haven’t got over how accurate that is. someone more talented than me, i’m begging you for that fucking au 

(gif via @gaudreau) can patrice please stop looking up ??? it’s unfair that someone can look so good just looking in a direction what the fucK. he’s so stunning.

i love this one. brad pulling his hoodie down like that looks like he’s... soliciting and honestly who could blame him. bergy looks very cute, if a bit edgy in the all black. the hand is a treat in this one hooooooooooooooooo yes

this one show’s off patrice’s dark features very well. it’s amazing how he has such dark hair, dark eyes, big dark eyebrows, and dark facial hair, yet it doesn’t overcrowd or shadow his face ( except occasionally in awful lighting) ??? does anyone actually know how that works?? he’s looking very pensive here, and that hoodie looks oh-so-cosy. absolutely would cuddle.

**how cute is this y’all. **in case you thought you were just missing something, no, patrice is not sitting on a chair. he’s just maintaining that deep squat like a champ. maybe that’s the secret to his sublime thighs... the navy/deep red is an excellent look on him, and we get a rare glimpse of bergy with his wedding ring, which i find to be oddly cute. bonus points for him being beside a very cute kid too :)

(gif via @jakedebrask) this, i, ummmmm. i- uhh. just. um. yeah. so like. uhhhh... swiftly moving on

(gif via @davidpastrnut) this motherfucker and his handsome fucking face even looks good in that god-awful wooly patriots hat. honestly it looks like he’s about to go out and have a snowball fight (presumably with brad). decidedly rather domestic and i love it

(gif via @davidpastrnut) intense media patrice is intense. this is such a classic bergy face though, i love it. every time some media person asks him some big long question he puts on this exact very-invested-and-slightly-concerned face, its iconic. looking cosy in a hoodie once again. stop it. 

nice polo, dude

(gif via @davidpastrnut) that tshirt looks like its fighting for its life to contain those biceps. a dark, brooding patrice that has some sort of slow burn au stirring deep in my mind. from other angles in this interview the tattoo is fairly visible also.

this has such a strong energy it almost knocked me off my feet. again, i can see this being some sort of business or maybe criminal masterminds au. but fuck me, does that man looking something beautiful in a suit. the one hand in the pocket is quite frankly BDE too. i’m glad i’m not into dadkes or esle i think this whole picture would be too much for me.

he is literally the kind of man you’d want to bring home to your parents. i’m glad he seems to have cashed in on the navy/deep red combo because it really does suit him. he looks so fucking dapper here i may be very much in love

another excellent on-ice shot of him, albeit his slightly concerned expression. the beard is looking fucking crisp here hello sir. not much else to say on this, just a handsome, handsome boy.

(gif via @jeffsamardzija) another one that gives me Thoughts. he’s literally so beautiful. hair is cut a little shorter than usual on the sides and on anyone else it would scream fuckboy but i’m kind of digging it on bergy, at least on this one occasion. if i say anything else we’ll go down the rabbit hole

oof this is_ intense. _bergy aside, this is just an incredible shot tbh. rare that we get to see mr perfect not completely level-headed and playing it cool so it feels like a treat when we do. lowkey hot ngl

last but very certainly not least, mr patrice bergeron, four-time bergeron award winner, holding the award itself. this photo honestly just makes my heart swell a little with pride - it’s what he deserves!!!! just absolutely dapper in a beautiful suit as always, and a smile that could topple a nation to round it all off.

thank you so much for this anon!!! it was rather self-indulgent but i hope you like it :) also i will absolutely do another one with marchy, although my nails have been dry for about 2 hours now so i’ll probably do it tomorrow or friday, but it’s on its way :)

[tungtung-thanawat]

My WIP List

Hey guys I thought I’d put together my WIP list so that you guys can make your demands/ show your interest. You can reply to this post with which WIP you’d like to ‘claim’ and for each of the remaining months of 2018 I’ll focus on finishing that WIP. (So the first five claims will be guaranteed a completed fic) Most of these are being written for other people so you won’t be formally receiving the fic but just helping along to see the fic birthed.

So in no Particular Order:

1) Perhaps, foolishly: De Hazard World Cup fic. De Hazard through the years, coming together, separation and falling in love a tender mix of feelings overcome Eden during world cup 2018

2) Unnamed Kevin Set Up fic: The happy couples in City try to set up their grumpy ginger teammate, Kevin De Bruyne (with little success)

3) Alexander’s Lover: Mkhi+ Pierreus: adapted from @michael-carricks‘s reincarnation soulmate au where: When Patroclus (Auba) dies, Achilles (Mkhi) makes a pact with the Gods to be beside him in every coming life but forgets to ask for them to be in love. Enter Marco Reus

4) Falling in Love With My Best Friend: Pierreus - Marco rejects Auba when Auba tells him he loves him years back but recently Auba starts dating Marco’s physio and Marco isn’t jealous but he doesn’t understand how Auba has suddenly moved on

5) All I want for Christmas is you: Pierreus Fake Dating AU: Marco makes a bet with Mario one christmas that in a year’s time he’ll have a serious relationship. But its already been a year and Marco’s completely forgotten about his bet until Mario sends him an invite to an elaborate christmas trip in a mountain range lodge with all of their friends where Marco is expected to present his beau. Marco has to ask Auba for a huge favor.

6) Road Trip Yuzuvier: Javier retires and Yuzu asks him to come to Japan. So he does and he learns about Sendai and Yuzu in ways that he never had the time before.

7) Road Trip Messe: Jesse is a anthro grad student making a film for his PhD and Marcus is the foolish Film Major who signs up to be his filmer/editor

8) Dumbledore is Dead: Kunessi + Joe Hard/David Silva + PepMou soulmates AU: AU where the first words your soulmate says to you is written on your skin and also City and United are rival Soap Opera production companies.

9) PrideVerse Carraville: Carra is a miner during the British Miner’s Strike in 1984 and Gary is part of Lesbians and Gays Supports the Miners. Based on the move Pride (2014)

10) Pierreus Infidelity Fic: Marco cheats on Auba with his ex, Mario

11) Daddy Pierreus (A BVB nursery fic): Marco is the single father to 5 yo Emre and Auba is the legal guardian of Emre’s friend, Ous. Play dates lead to real dates but its difficult falling in love under the supervision of two precocious 5 year olds

12) Pierreus Boarding School AU:  Marco is crushing on his football teammate Auba and his roommate Mats makes everything absolutely worse (though he says he’s trying to help

13) Deledier AU: continuation of do you see it now? Dele is having marriage problems and Eric who is the only one who can see the red string that ties their fates together, doesn’t know how to help him

14)  💯 + Tyler Seguin: Marchy is an escort and Bergy is his unperturbed professor boyfriend until someone from their past with definite ulterior motives shows up and becomes Marchy’s client

[fathersonholygore]

Shadow. 2009. Directed by Federico Zampaglione. Screenplay by Federico Zampaglione, Domenico Zampaglione, & Giacomo Gensini. Starring Jake Muxworthy, Karina Testa, Ottaviano Blitch, Chris Coppola, Emilio De Marchi, & Nuot Arquint. Blu Cinematografica Not Rated. 77 minutes. Horror

★★★★ A lot of genuine war movies are made in Hollywood and otherwise, about every battle imaginable, from more obscure foreign wars to the World Wars themselves and everything in between. The horror genre’s not exactly a stranger to depictions of war, though the list of great war movies which cross into horror are few. Perhaps it’s because the horrors of war are bad enough, and amplifying any of that with the genre of horror itself can be tricky, so as not to fall into utter exploitation. Either way, there are some movies in the genre which have depicted war, its consequences and effects, and especially PTSD in a new light that’s more psychological than visceral. One such example is the 2009 Italian horror Shadow. While it’s not perfect, Federico Zampaglione’s movie does a great job of taking the nightmarish world of war into a more personal space of horror without becoming needlessly exploitative or disrespectful to victims of wartime atrocities. Instead, Zampaglione crosses a backwoods horror with a PTSD allegory laden with symbolism and heavy imagery. Above all, Shadow functions as that PTSD allegory concerned with its mental terror, and exactly how torturous war becomes emotionally on those affected by it, as well as those who’ve participated in it. The journey of soldier David (Jake Muxworthy), who’s returned from the hideous Iraq War and heads out mountain biking in Italy, is a brutal and terrifying one which strikes direct at the heart of war’s mental and visceral damage(s).

“I’ve never seen anyone fight death so hard”

Horror’s always been a fantastic way for audiences, and creators, to confront their fears and the terror of real life issues such as PTSD, trauma, rape, violence(etc) in a safe space where there’s no actual danger. Here, the focus is on atrocity and torture. David, along with a few others, gets trapped by an eerie, mysterious man called Mortis (Nuot Arquint), whose fascination and dedication to torture is totally unnerving. The captives are subjected to a variety of nastiness, such as being fried like bacon, having eyelids cut off. Because David’s also a soldier, one who fought in the Iraq War, the concept of torture brings parallels to the American government and its use of torture. This is revisited on David, an American. He unwillingly took part in a wider, more brutish war than he even knew – as is fully evidenced during the movie’s finale, when his past in Iraq is revealed. The torture itself becomes a corporeal, visceral, and literal symbol of this veteran’s PTSD and mental trauma, the shadow cast over all those who survive war. Zampaglione does well with positioning war v. real life in this story. The horrors people commit against each other in everyday life are no less tragic or disgusting than in war. However, we’re conditioned to see war as a separate space than supposed real life whereas war affects life/lives, though it does not happen in a vacuum. What Zampaglione accomplishes with a parallel between ‘real life’ and ‘war’ is a merger of the two, so the audience becomes wholly incapable of separating the two – what ought to be the case, anyway. The inextricable links between life and war come out thoroughly in the subtle ways Zampaglione and his co-writers weave nightmare and reality together through the plot, plus the heaps of war-related imagery and symbolism which draws on all sorts of military connections in the 20th and 21st centuries.

“Even here they were touched by war”

A significant moment later in the movie sees David shuffling around by candlelight through the bunker-like facility where Mortis has been keeping him and the others. He passes several important images, but one that lands with a deft blow is a shelf filled with old reels of film. Each is labelled, including the following references: Abu Graib, Saigon, Cecenia (Chechnya), Beirut, Sabra and Shatila, September 11th, Pearl Harbour, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Ethiopia, North Korea, Kosovo, and many more. These are all references to either general wars and their laundry list of atrocities, or specific massacres involving genocide, torture, rape, and other horrific acts. But then Zampaglione throws a lot more at the viewer. Such as a photograph of German director Leni Riefenstahl, autographed, sitting on Mortis’s desk; pictures of Holocaust victims; a jar of Zyklon B; ash-like sculptures symbolic of the victims caught in the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. There’s almost more symbolism and imagery than a single viewing can handle. It all goes to speak to the major themes of the story, and also the trajectory of the plot. Mostly, it says that war is a perpetual cycle, and nothing changes, it only repeats, gets bigger, gets worse. Father Gore’s favourite image is wrapped up in the character of Mortis. He represents the shadow of war, looming everywhere, over everyone – definitely those who’ve taken part in war, on any level. He transforms into a living embodiment of death, as if the Grim Reaper himself. Near the end, Mortis even dons a black hood and wields a small scythe to try killing those left. His lair is packed with all forms of relics from all the major wars, massacres, and other violent military events throughout history. He’s a combination of an Italian fascist and a Nazi doctor. It’s this last connection that’s so compelling. Angeline (Karina Testa) makes a comment about war coming to the Shadow, the area where she and David are both biking and exploring, and how war touches all places, even the more obscure ones. She reveals a horrible event occurred there involving rebels and people being burned alive in the nearby caves. What’s of note is that Shadow was filmed in Tarvisio, Italy. Why’s it noteworthy? Tarvisio is on the border of both Austria and Slovenia, which was very relevant during World War II. And so, the atrocities of Italian fascism and Nazism are alive in the geography of the movie alone, allowing for the themes and the intensity of the plot to take on even more significance. The events in Shadow are like war purgatory for David – a crazy yet more palatable version of events for a soldier to bear, so that he doesn’t have to accept his responsibility and complicity in the horrors war inflicts on its innocent victims. He has to come to terms with his taking part in a civilian massacre during his Iraq tour. So, his mind invents a Grim Reaper figured, one symbolic of war and violence in general, to whisk him away into a nightmare dreamscape that’s somehow less vicious than the realities of war. Zampaglione offers up some horror cinema which plays like a bad dream in a dark war memorial. Ultimately, what’s worse – a psycho in the woods capturing a few bikers and hikers, torturing them, or whole nations engaging in torture, murder, rape? Neither are good. Regardless, reality is worse than any fiction. Shadow deserves more eyes than it got on release. It becomes more relevant every year, as the United States of America keeps pushing its imperialism everywhere it can, to the corners of the Earth. It’s no small thing the main character of this movie is an American. Because throughout the 20th century, and slouching along into the 21st too, America has been a catalyst for war and terror, despite presenting itself as some guardian against the two. While the characters in danger from Mortis make up Allied Forces – one Frenchwoman, one British lad, two American boys – and Italian fascism is clearly in the cross-hairs at times, there’s a huge implication about America’s role in the Iraq War, and its shadow looms over many frames throughout the movie.

SHADOW Casts a Heavy Darkness Over the Horrors of War Shadow. 2009. Directed by Federico Zampaglione. Screenplay by Federico Zampaglione, Domenico Zampaglione, & Giacomo Gensini.

[medproish]

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Jesse D. Garrabrant/Getty Images

Ten years down the road, you couldn’t be blamed for wondering if this contest took place in 2008.

If you’re watching a replay of the Miami Heat’s 113-103 victory over the Philadelphia 76ers, you might be so blown away by Dwyane Wade‘s performance that you’re wholly convinced this was a showing taking place right in the heart of his prime. 

Ben Simmons’ presence on the court should be a giveaway that you’re wrong. But let’s pretend you don’t notice the talented rookie and spend all 48 minutes either watching Wade cook or breathlessly waiting for him to strip off the warmups and get onto the hardwood. 

How could you not think this was anything but a vintage display?

The 36-year-old shooting guard wound up recording 28 points, seven rebounds, three assists and two steals while shooting 11-of-16 from the field and 6-of-8 from the charity stripe. He was locked in on defense, bodied up against younger adversaries and constantly jumped into passing lanes on the perimeter. Wade even recorded a plus-16 when he was on the floor. 

Now, the series is tied up at a game apiece. But can the Heat count on more heroics from their unexpected veteran savior? 

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Jesse D. Garrabrant/Getty Images

Especially in the wake of a resounding defeat to open the 2018 playoffs, the Heat did so much right during their Game 2 victory over the 76ers. 

Josh Richardson, James Johnson and Justise Winslow hounded Simmons throughout the contest by throwing him off his game with full-court physicality and a determination to shut down passing lanes in favor of forcing him into a scoring role. Goran Dragic quietly racked up some nice offensive plays while Wayne Ellington put on a shotmaking display with an off-the-charts degree of difficulty. We can’t overlook Kelly Olynyk’s two-way contributions, either. 

But Wade was still the star of the night, and that’s not a sentence we expected to write at this stage of the 2017-18 calendar. 

His first half was a throwback masterpiece, as he recorded 21 points. The Sixers were subjected to an endless barrage of mid-range jumpers and crafty plays within the half-court set, helpless while he made the most of his patented pump fake and slashing skills. Without Wade, Philadelphia might’ve been able to stay somewhat close on a rough offensive night, rather than spending the entire third and fourth quarters attempting to engage in a furious rally that fell just short after, at one point, closing the margin to two points. 

Allow yourself to get sentimental. Think about all the vintage showings from Wade we’ve seen in previous postseasons, before Father Time sapped some of his athleticism and prevented him from making so many explosive plays in a quick stretch. Monday night should remind you of the version that’s a veritable lock to make the Hall of Fame on the initial ballot. 

Sure, Wade didn’t make much of an impact for lengthy stretches of the second half. But thanks to his first two quarters, he’d already put his teammates in a position to succeed. Playing with a double-digit advantage is a nice luxury for a deep team filled with veterans and an elite coach patrolling the sidelines. 

Of course, that should also serve as a stark warning: Fun as Wade’s outing may have been, Miami can’t rely on him to bail out any lackluster performances at later dates in this series. He may have some magical possessions left in the tank, but counting on continued excellence is a massive ask. 

Lest we forget, Wade averaged just 12.0 points, 3.4 rebounds and 3.1 assists while shooting 40.9 percent from the field, 22.0 percent from downtown and 74.5 percent at the stripe after his midseason return to the Heat. The advanced stats aren’t particularly pretty, either. He finished the year ranked No. 344 in ESPN.com’s real plus/minus and No. 495 in win shares per 48 minutes—numbers not exactly indicative of a reliable playoff hero. 

But don’t view this as a Debbie-downer attempt. We’re not trying to spoil the fun, because recognizing the unsustainability of Wade-as-hero and acknowledging the entertainment of his throwback aren’t mutually exclusive. 

He was excellent on Monday night. The Heat are going to need other players to step up as they try to take control of this series. Both can be true. 

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Mitchell Leff/Getty Images

Focusing on Simmons and Joel Embiid is easy. Each hyper-marketable star is arguably a top-20 talent, but these 76ers have still become so much more than a two-man show—or a one-man wrecking ball with Embiid still recovering from his facial fracture. 

Before the All-Star break, Philadelphia didn’t get much out of its bench. The second unit was outscored by 3.2 points per 100 possessions during that early stretch, which left it ranked No. 22 throughout the Association. But that narrative has flipped 180 degrees after some key midseason additions, to the point that the bench’s net rating skyrocketed to 6.3—No. 2 in the league, trailing only the Detroit Pistons (7.5)—during the 15 games heading into the postseason. 

Those key cogs were on full display Monday night, despite the losing efforts. 

Ersan Ilyasova, who tortured Hassan Whiteside and rendered the stud center virtually unplayable in Game 1, continued strutting his stuff in the starting lineup—a role change made necessary by Embiid’s absence. The power forward finished with 14 points and 11 rebounds on 7-of-10 shooting, and his energy on the offensive boards kept Philadelphia alive in the first half when no shots seemed destined to find nylon. Amir Johnson filled a similar role, while Marco Belinelli continued drilling off-balance shots. 

And that’s saying nothing of the other typical starters who don’t fall into the Embiid/Simmons category. 

Hot shooting from Dario Saric nearly closed the gap during the second half, as he continued to look the part of a Most Improved Player candidate. His growth as a defender, distributor and efficient tertiary scorer doesn’t garner nearly as much interest as stories about the superstars, but it’s been vital to Philadelphia’s quick ascent up the Eastern Conference hierarchy.

Ditto for JJ Redick and Robert Covington, though their combined 2-of-16 showing from beyond the arc was a key culprit for the Game 2 loss. One of those makes even came in garbage time.

Don’t be surprised when these guys prove the difference-makers in a series now guaranteed to go at least five games. 

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Matteo Marchi/Getty Images

The Heat executed their plan brilliantly by slowing down the proceedings against the 76ers and gumming up the half-court set from start to finish. They were physical against Simmons by forced him to become more of a scorer than a distributor, which goes against all his natural inclinations. 

That’s exactly how you beat the current Philadelphia iteration, even if no one else had been able to do so during the Sixers’ 17-game winning streak that ended Monday.

But that plan might not work so well once Embiid is back on the floor, recovered from his orbital fracture enough that he can at least enter the fray and start making an impact. Not only does his defensive prowess help prevent driving lanes from the Heat, but his offensive game is just what the hosts were missing. 

As Philadelphia head coach Brett Brown explained after the game, per Kyle Neubeck of Philly Voice, “You need Joel Embiid. … I felt tonight it was a really strong example of how you wished you had him.”

When games slow down and points become hard to come by, you need a go-to scorer who can create for himself on a consistent basis. Talented as Simmons and his supporting cast are, that’s the one thing they’re missing without the superstar center. Granted, a standout game from Markelle Fultz might’ve changed this, but the rookie point guard logged only five minutes and missed all three of his shots. 

Embiid can function as that go-to scorer. He’s comfortable commandeering possessions and knocking down shots out of the post, and Miami’s only recourse when he gets hot would involve throwing a second defender at him and opening either a slashing lane or shooting opportunity. 

During the regular season, just three members of the Philly roster took even three field-goal attempts per game after holding the ball for between two and six seconds. Fultz (in limited showings, given the mysterious shoulder ailment) took 3.6 and made 41.2 percent. Simmons checked in at 5.5 and 52.5 percent, though many of those were line drives knifing through transition defenses.

Embiid was at 7.5 attempts, converting them at a 54 percent clip. Throw him into the mix, and the complexion of this series may well change yet again. We certainly know he’s motivated, given the NSFW message he shared, per Neubeck, in a since-deleted Instagram post after the game. 

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Andrew D. Bernstein/Getty Images

Hats off to the San Antonio Spurs for their valiant effort in Game 2. A 116-101 loss is nothing to be ashamed of, particularly because they held a lead for so much of the proceedings and gave themselves some semblance of hope for a future victory. LaMarcus Aldridge was a phenomenal offensive presence, dueling as best he could with 34 points and 12 boards on 11-of-21 shooting from the field and a perfect 12-of-12 showing at the stripe.

But the Spurs’ greatest achievement is one with which they won’t be particularly happy. Thanks to their inspired play on both ends of the floor, they managed something precious few teams have been capable of doing since the All-Star break.

They awoke the beast.

Golden State finally faced significant adversity during a game with real stakes—”punched in the mouth,” as head coach Steve Kerr said during an in-game interview on the TNT broadcast—and responded to said adversity as you might expect from a group of defending champions. 

From the third quarter through the end of the contest, the Dubs showcased that explosive spurtability the basketball-watching world has come to expect. 

Kevin Durant, who finished with 32 points, six rebounds and six assists, heated up, draining pull-up threes and getting to his spots so easily you could see the outlines of flames rising up from his jersey. The defense looked fully engaged, switching on screens and rotating seamlessly to contest perimeter jumpers after doubling down on LaMarcus Aldridge in the post.

After Durant went on his 13-point tear during the third quarter, Klay Thompson took over with his spot-up prowess to drop 16 in the fourth. You know, because you might as well use all the weapons in that deep arsenal. 

A 22-10 run against a Gregg Popovich-coached team is always special, especially because it came while Stephen Curry was watching from the sidelines and excitedly cheering for his comrades—sometimes before the shot swished through the net. It’s just the latest evidence these Warriors still have that extra gear only available to special squads. 

Need a big stop? It could come from anywhere. Need buckets? Plenty of stars can go nuclear, and the deadliest of them is waiting to make his postseason debut until the second round. 

A locked-in version of Golden State remains terrifying, particularly to a Spurs squad devoid of the same levels of upper-tier talent. 

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Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images

If you don’t think Kyle Anderson has become a high-quality basketball player, you need to start paying attention to more than just the points-per-game statistic. All season long, the UCLA product has been a defensive stalwart for the Spurs, using his knack for positioning, cerebral acuity and lanky arms to wreak havoc within the half-court set. 

But as was the case for lengthy stretches of the Spurs’ 116-101 loss to the Warriors in Game 2 of their first-round series, that doesn’t mean he’s impervious to matchups. Popovich benched him in favor of Rudy Gay to start the contest, and Anderson’s minutes were sporadic after an ugly airball on a corner three late in the first quarter sent him back to the pine. 

Anderson re-entered the fray near the end of the third quarter, but only once Durant had caught fire and willed the Golden State offense back toward its regular-season level. That speaks volumes, since the slow-moving forward has been one of the few defenders capable of slowing the Warriors star throughout the 2017-18 campaign. 

But that ability doesn’t change the problem that originally diminished Anderson’s playing time. 

He remains an offensive liability who struggles with his shooting motion and can often be left unguarded when he goes cold. That’s been the case throughout this first-round series, as he’s now followed up an 0-of-2 showing in 11 Game 1 minutes with another goose egg from the field. 

Anderson, who checked in as the No. 45 player entering the postseason in my joint rankings with Dan Favale, is at his best when operating as a primary pick-and-roll ball-handler, but that strategy simply doesn’t work against a quick, athletic and stifling Golden State defense with length in the paint and at the point of attack. And when he’s forced into a spot-up role, he can be left in the corner while double-teams are sent in Aldridge’s direction. 

The 24-year-old is a good player, typically proficient enough from the corners to avoid becoming this much of an offensive anchor. He’ll deserve a significant payday when he enters restricted free agency this offseason. But that doesn’t make him an ideal fit in a matchup against the Warriors, who figure to remain near or at the top of the Western Conference throughout the foreseeable future. 

That alone means his future under Popovich could be in doubt. 

      Adam Fromal covers the NBA for Bleacher Report. Follow him on Twitter: @fromal09.

Unless otherwise indicated, all stats from Basketball Reference, NBA.com, NBA Math or ESPN.com.

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[blindbatalex]

a concept for you: a bit after the trade deadline, Coyle (and/or Mojo) decides to bring up the elephant in the room: Bergy and Marchy are clearly together, he understands why they held off telling him until they got to know him better, but he wants them to know he supports them 100%. Only... they're not together. (ofc they are pining instead)

i meant to write a hundred word snippet rip

Marcus had a counselor in high school who pointed out to him that he tended to deal with stress and uncertainty by creating an even larger, certain source of stress.  An elaborate form of self-sabotage, she had called it.  Marcus would think about it and about her often long after he left high school, though rarely in time to stop himself.

*

He banged on the door yet again.

“HELLO WE ARE HERE WE ARE TRAPPED HELLO HELLO.”

“I don’t think there is anyone who can hear us,” Bergy said with polite grace from where he had sat down by a bucket and a bunch of mops.  Everything the man did was graceful, even when he was annoyed as he must be right now.

Marcus grit his teeth and sulked to the far corner of the supply closet, before sliding down the wall to sit against some low shelves with his knees drawn up to his chest.  There was no real space and his sore muscles were already screaming from the uncomfortable position.

Life was just spiffy at the moment.

First, the Capitals had traded him to an irrelevant team and to New Jersey of all places, which sucked.  But then, just when he got used to it the Devils traded him too, and this time of all places, to Boston.  Then, then this morning he came in super early to get a work out in before practice, he managed to spill his coffee all over the locker room, and when he, joined by an always helpful, always early B.ergeron, got to a supply closet to get a mop, the door had shut and locked behind them.

Bergy must have seen some of Marcus’ great pleasure on his face, because he raised a (perfect, even under the glaring light of a single dangling bulb) eyebrow and said–

“You’ll probably be more comfortable if you sit next to me.  There is more space here.”

Marcus eyed the spot Bergy patted.  There was indeed more space there.  But it would also mean they would be sitting snug against each other, thigh pressed against thigh, when Bergy was shirtless at the moment, and yeah no.  Miserable as he was, Marcus valued his life.

“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t want your boyfriend to give me another concussion.”

“My–what?”

“He doesn’t strike me as the jealous type but you can’t be too careful with head injury, you know what I’m saying?”

“Who, Marchy?”

Yes, Marchy.  How many other–

“He is not my boyfriend.”

Huh.  Marcus didn’t take Bergy as someone who would be hung up on labels, but he knew it mattered to some people.

“Partner?” he tried, “significant other?” Dear Lord had they– “husband?”

Bergy laughed, the sound quick and as uncomfortable as Marcus’ bum in its current cramped space.

“We are not–we are not dating.”

Now it was Marcus’ turn to laugh.  Right.  They only spent every other waking minute together and made cow eyes at each other in every given opportunity and when they were apart no one on the team was capable of mentioning one without the other in the same sentence, because they were not dating.  

(That last thing by the way, was highly bizarre.  Marcus would ask where Bergy was and someone would tell him ‘oh he is talking to the media but Marchy is taking a shower’ as if the fist part of the sentence didn’t make sense without the latter.  Like, there was casual dating, there was commitment, and then there was practically joined at the hip even our jersey numbers were made for each other married life that these two were leading.)

Just as he was about to make fun of Bergy though, another thought occurred to Marcus.  He was the new guy around here.  They probably didn’t know they could trust him and you’d have to be pretty dumb not to know what the consequences could be if one teammate failed to keep his mouth shut about something like this, especially given his and Marchy’s colorful past.

“Hey man, I’m cool with it,” Marcus said, raising a hand in defense.  “If I’m being completely honest” – please don’t be completely honest, a small voice in the back of Marcus’ mind implored – “I wondered what you saw in him at first, right, when you can get any guy you want–even the straight ones–but eh, he has his charms, doesn’t he. Besides, who am I to judge?”

Now Bergy was looking at him with his mouth open, a human version of the surprised Pikachu meme.

Marcus stopped.

“Too honest?”

“No,” Bergy said, color breaking in his voice, “it’s not and I appreciate–your support but–there isn’t anything.  There isn’t anything to support because there is nothing between us.  Marchy is just really my friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” he found himself asking before he could help himself.  Marcus’ life in general made little sense these days but what he just heard made no sense whatsoever.

Bergy laughed again, ran a hand over his perfect face.  He smiled.

“He doesn’t like me that way.”  He grimaced.  “I mean–we don’t like each other that way. There is no why.”

“He doesn’t?”

A growing part of Marcus’ brain was now begging for him to stop. To not tread where he had no business.

But, like, also.  

This was Marchy they were talking about–the man once gave Marcus the evil eye, Mean Girls style, just because Marcus got the seat across from Bergy in the breakfast table.  Referees could see how bad the man had it for Bergy.

“I think I would know,” Bergy said quietly.  And Marcus hadn’t missed how he scrambled just now to change the subject of his sentence from ‘he’ to ‘we’ either.

Could it be possible, that Patrice Bergeron, four time Selke winner and a literal saint, was more of a disaster human than Marcus was?  The man was pining.  And he had no idea.

The thought made Marcus very happy about where he was in life.

Outside he could hear pieces of distant conversation.  Laughter.  A very specific, distinct laughter you could hear from two miles away–not unlike a ship horn.

“So.” Marcus stood up grinning.

“If Marchy walked in here and for all intents and it looked as if we were making out, he’d be cool with that?”

Mr. Pikachu laughed out of sheer surprise but recovered quickly.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, looking Marcus in the eye.

“You wanna bet 500 bucks? Easy money if you are so sure.”

“Will you drop it when I win?”

Marcus nodded and Bergy nodded back, a manly deal struck between them.

Quickly, Marcus took off his shirt.  In two steps he plonked himself down next to Bergy.  

The laughter was getting closer.

He put his hand on Bergy’s cheek–and man, it was easy to fall in love with this dude.  So lovely was his stubble against his fingertips and so dreamy his brown eyes even under the current horrible light and the horrible circumstances.

Easiest 500 bucks I ever made, he thought before he moaned, very loudly.

“Yes Bergy, just like that.”

Muffled through a wall, he heard a distinct what the fuck.

Very soon, he would be thinking of his high school counselor.

[blindbatalex]

25. i love snow days because it means that you trek across town to hang out with me and watch movies on the couch except this time you demand to know who i’m crushing on and i don’t know how to say you for Bergy/Marchy?

send me more winter prompts! 

&optional soundtrack

~*~

It isn’t that often that practice gets cancelled due to inclement weather but when it does Brad really doesn’t complain.

He and Bergy have a routine for those precious stolen off days - no matter how bad the storm, Bergy puts on his ski pants and scarf and treks the short distance between their apartments to spend the day with Brad. They work out together in Brad’s gym, Brad makes mac and cheese and they spend the rest of the day either binging on the latest TV show they are obsessed with or watching cheesy Christmas movies.

They have gone the second route this time. The blizzard is raging on outside, snowflakes caught in the wind patter against Brad’s ceiling to floor windows and the movie ends with the two protagonists - childhood friends driven apart by life - kissing under the mistletoe after rekindling their high school romance over Christmas.

Brad makes a soft noise at the back of his throat as the credits roll. He knows real life isn’t like the movies, people don’t just get happy endings like that, but with Bergy lounging on his couch in a soft grey hoodie, fingers wrapped around a near empty cup of hot cocoa it’s just-

Bergy turns to him in an instant. “Oh my God,” he says, “you have a crush and I don’t even know about it.”

How-

Brad opens his mouth to protest but Bergy carries on before he can.

“Not even a crush. You are head over heels in love with someone and I have no idea. Man.”

“Dude, you are jumping into conclusions faster than Sens are jumping into irrelevance,” Brad replies, when he finally finds his voice. It definitely comes off as too defensive.

How the fuck-

“No, I know that sound,” Bergy counters. He is fully facing Brad now, sitting sideways on the couch with one bare foot tucked under himself, and a spark in his eye he usually only gets right before he is about to make a fatal, gorgeous shot on the ice.

“That’s a sound of wistful dreamy longing. Last time you made it was on December 17, 2014, when you were head over heels in love with Parker, and the time before that was when you saw a life size cut out of Donatello and wanted to bring it home.”

Brad looks at his friend with his jaw hanging approximately at his chest.

“How the fuck-?”

“No, the question is who the fuck. Come on man, why wouldn’t you tell me, your best friend?”

Fuck. Brad knows Bergy and when Bergy gets like this he won’t let it go. How the fuck he remembers the things he does, Brad has no fucking clue.

So Brad goes for the next best thing, revels in the irony of saying what he says to Bergy’s face.

“Well, I didn’t tell you because it’s never going to go anywhere. He is- not interested. I will just have to get over it.”

He shrugs. He has no doubt that he will. This is not the first time Brad fell in love with Bergy, and the feelings subside usually when Bergy finds someone to date.

They never disappear though. There is always that lump sitting at the very back of his chest, made of longing and love and melancholy. It’s so easy to imagine a life for the two of them, with late rides back from road trips and quick breakfasts before practice and quiet days like this, when they can snuggle in each other’s arms as time slows down to a standstill and the outside world stops existing, however briefly.

“How do you even know that?”

Brad has to keep himself from smiling too bitterly.

“Does he- like spending time with you?” Bergy asks.

Brad nods. “Yeah, but as friends.”

And that’s the thing. Given who he is and given who Brad is, asking for more would be ungrateful. He knows that no matter how much his mind would love to run away with one impossible dream after the other.

“Does he laugh at your dumb jokes?”

“Listen, everyone laughs at my jokes. They are not dumb.”

“No, I mean the ones you make after three beers and when you are running on five hours of sleep, the really dumb ones?”

Those seem to be the jokes Bergy finds the funniest- that, and whenever Brad is high on painkillers. Brad will make as many stupid jokes as he can on those nights just to hear Bergy laugh.

“Well then,” Bergy concludes, “chances are this guy likes you. You will never know if you don’t ask.”

Brad’s heart breaks a little at that. Could it be-? But it’s of no matter. He shrugs.

“Even if he did,” he says, fighting against a knot forming at the back of his throat. “There is no point. So this guy right, I like him a lot and if we tried to date I know I would fuck it up and I’m not ready to lose him for good.”

He stands up to walk to the window, look outside at the whirlwind of white and the empty streets so he doesn’t have to look at Bergy.

It’s been two years since Parker so much as said hi to him and he would die before he let the same thing happen with Bergy.

When Bergy objects Brad reminds him of that first part and he seems to understand. He comes to stand beside Brad and puts a tentative arm around his shoulder.

“Oh Brad,” he says quietly, “I am so sorry you feel that way. Your crush would be lucky to have you and for what it’s worth you will always have me in your corner.”

Why are you doing this? Brad wants to ask. He wants to run. Why won’t you stop?

There is a seagull trying to fly in the middle of the blizzard. It’s white figure is almost invisible against the white backdrop. 

“Thanks man,” Brad says watching it, flap and flap its wings against the wind in vain, unable to move an inch forward, pinned to its spot.

“Let’s face it. There isn’t a single man on earth who wouldn’t be lucky to have me. I’m essentially a snack.”

[blindbatalex]

Make Way for Bruin-lings

send me a made up fic title and i will tell what i would write to go with it!

fun fact, i’ve never read the original story but- i love this title. it would be a gen crack fic for all the squad where one day zee would open his door/come to practice only to find that the young guns tm have all been transformed into ducklings. (they were probably horsing around at the common late at night and offended some ancient city gods by accident.)

before zee even figures it out though they imprint on him!!! and quacking with delight follow him everywhere. so then zee must (i) stop his children (and marchy) from accidentally squishing the ducklings to death (ii) be a good duck mom and make sure they have water to play in and food and what not and (iii) figure out how to reverse the curse with the gang doing their best to follow him around with their teeny tiny webbed feet.

there is one silver lining however which is this. while at first he fears it would be very easy for one of the bruin-ducklings to accidentally (or maliciously) get switched with a random real duck and they would have no way to tell, zee soon realizes that is not the case.

because one duckling breaks into the pantry and opens as many packs of oreos as it can with its mighty beak, one duckling says ‘aitch’ instead of ‘quack’ whereas yet another one looks and acts more baby deer than duck.