some fandom disagreements are like "I see your point but I think this other aspect of the narrative is more significant," and some are like "I don't think you can read."
jack will be like "bits theres a huge spider in the bedroom 😢 can you come get it 🥺🥺" and bitty will walk into the room and go "oh THIS young man?" scoop it into his hand raw and take it outside
jack is like my style is having no style and bitty is like you are so fucking hot why are you so violently against jeans that hug your ass and shoes that are not ugly?
jack is like i got something at the store and its kinda wild its kinda out there i may be making a fashion statement with this and bitty is like YES SHOW ME and it's just new socks with dogs on them
jack does the “10 things jack zimmermann can’t live without” video for GQ, and it goes, “so, uh, I couldn’t bring my husband to this, so, uh, there’s… my running shoes…? they’re neat.” opens bag. “oh! he did pack me a pb&j for the day though, does that count? there’s a sticky note with it. does that make two?”
So when Parse shows up at the kegster I feel like he thinks he’s singing The Winner Takes It All but Jack’s hearing Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) but in a very threatening minor key
shout out to whatever lawyer has the job of holding christopher ecclestons phone away from him to prevent him being sued by the royal family for dropping a funnier prince philip died post than any of us on here could ever hope to make
Ransom, shirtless and flexing: did you know that a lot of people have allergies to Neosporin? just put some vaseline on small wounds, that will help more
a maori person posted a single screenshot about there being misappropriation of ta moko in the game and it got taken down for copyright.
here’s the screenshot that was taken down:
(image id: a person with red eyes, long pale green hair that has been shaved on one side, and multiple earrings. they have a tattoo covering their chin and lips, designed to look like the placement of facial mokos traditionally for women. end id)
to explain why i’m upset, ta moko is the process of a maori person tattooing another maori person, each line identifies your whakapapa (heritage for lack of a better word, it can’t really be translated into a single english word). the process is very tapu (sacred) and personal so just taking a random design and slapping it onto a character uh. sucks! it sucks.
i know everyone is rightfully talking about how terrible the epilepsy trigger is but i haven’t really seen anyone talk about this, please keep this in mind
i can’t believe you made me look up what fucking comic that was, sending me this like i know shit lol
When Chowder comes home from class, there’s an ungodly stomping noise coming from the staircase, and the sound of someone kicking a cardboard box across the floor. The door shuts behind him, and Ford sticks her head out of the kitchen, smiling apologetically.
“Dex’s decided he’s tired of living with Nursey,” she said in lieu of a greeting, and Chris closes his eyes, fingers coming to the bridge of his nose tightly.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, and joins her in the kitchen, where they’re talking about class of ‘16. Apparently, they’ve moved in together, and now that Dex has exploded, Chowder is strongly considering asking if he can move in with them. He misses Lardo.
Dex moving out takes the better part of the afternoon. In the evening, he stays locked in the basement, hammering and cutting and whatever else people who know how tools work do with them. It’s loud, and more than a little annoying, but no one wants to go downstairs and tell him to stop. Besides, it won’t work.
That’s the first time anyone sees Nursey.
Instantly, he knows something is wrong.
For one, he’s got on basketball shorts in October, which everyone knows he’s morally opposed to. He’s ranted about it several times; he could practically write a thesis on it.
Secondly, his eyes are bloodshot.
“Hey,” he says hoarsely, and Chris’ alarm skyrockets.
A chorus of greetings sounds, all some degree of concerned.
Nursey clears his throat. “Uh, i’m going to Annie’s,” he says, trying for normal. He almost accomplishes it. “If anyone wants anything, just text me. My treat.”
“Do you want someone to go with you?” Ford asks anxiously, before anyone can stop her, and Chris manages to kick the foot of her chair in time for her to blurt out, “Uh, to help you carry all those drinks, y’know?”
Nursey smiles wanly. He looks drawn. “Nah, Nicey, i’m good. I’ll see you later, guys.”
Scattered goodbyes go off, and he disappears out the door with hardly a sound.
Bitty turns immediately to Chowder.
“Would you mind--”
“I’m already texting him,” he says, and Bitty smiles worriedly, stacking another few cookies on his plate.
[ text: hot nurse ] hey, would you grab me a jasmine tea? i forgot to buy some at the grocery store !
He watches their chat-- Nursey doesn’t respond, but he does like the message. Satisfied, he taps out a “thanks <3″ and leaves Nursey alone for now.
It’s nearly an hour before Nursey comes back. He knocks briefly on Chris’ door, and he calls cheerfully for him to come in.
“Come on in, close the door! You can go through the bathroom later, I don’t wanna walk all the way over to close the door.”
Nursey nods, silent. Without so much as a greeting, he brings over the drink, mumbling, “here,” and handing it off.
Chris takes it one-handedly-- with the other, he catches Nursey’s wrist, holding him in place and peering up at him.
He looks a little better-- not much, mind-- but his eyes aren’t so red, and he makes eye contact for a few seconds.
“How are you? Really,” he asks evenly. Nursey laughs. There’s very little humor in it.
“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Just need some time, y’know.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Nursey snaps. “Fine, I feel like shit, is that what you wanted? You wanna know so fucking bad? Did you even want a drink, Chowder, or what? Wanna fucking throw it at me? Did Dex want this fucking drink, and he just didn’t wanna say anything? What?!”
Chris waits until Nursey tires himself out, looking angry and heartbroken, and it hurts him to stay quiet like this, to let Nursey say the negative stuff that festers inside of himself, but he knows intrinsically that the other boy needs it.
Finally, Nursey’s rant ends, and instantly, he looks ashamed of himself, clenching up his jaw and looking away.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t... I didn’t mean to... y’know. Sorry.”
“Do you wanna sleep here tonight?”
He looks back to him. “Huh?”
“Do you wanna sleep here, with me? I just... I thought... I mean, it’s better than sleeping alone, right?” Chris puts on a brave smile, like his heart isn’t thumping, like it isn’t taking everything in him not to tremble at the sight of his teammate like this.
Nursey-- no, Derek, looks... lost. Like the kid they all kind of are, dressed up in grownup’s shoes.
“Dee?” he murmurs, hesitant, and Derek breaks, swallowing tightly; all at once, he nods, the green of his eyes warbling with unshed tears.
Hastily, Chris rises to hold him, and Derek’s weight sags against him the second he envelops him in his hold. He shudders, once, twice, lets out a muffled sob, and Chris squeezes him, presses him to his chest as Derek cries.
It takes time for Chris to get Derek into bed, but he does it, whispering gentle platitudes into his dark curls. Derek drops onto the mattress clumsily, and Chris kneels in front of him, squeezing his hands with gentle pressure. “Let’s get ready for bed,” he prompts, and his friend nods, and goes slowly to his clothing to undress.
Chris strips in record time, finding something for Derek amongst his own clothes. He’s a little bigger, a little more muscled, but he’s always been lean, and Chris himself wears baggy clothes sometimes. A pair of older shorts and a Sharks tee, and Derek is sitting at the edge of his bed, arms around himself tightly.
Chowder lifts the blankets on his side. “C’mon, babe,” he says, coaxing, a hand cupping his elbow. It isn’t until Derek is tucked into his side that Chris even notices the endearment, too caught up in taking care of the boy beside him.
Well, there’s no time for that. If Derek hadn’t noticed, it wasn’t important. He would worry about that... some other time. Sometime appropriate.
“Is this okay?”
Derek tenses; immediately, Chris pulls his arm from around his waist-- or tries to, anyways, but Derek’s hand catches his wrist, pulling him back. His grip is iron.
“Don’t,” he mumbles into Chris’ neck. “Please.”
Chris goes soft, tucks Derek into his arms and holds him while he shakes, while the hot tears drop wetly onto his own warm skin and Derek’s long fingers twist in the fabric of Chris’ tee.
“C?” Nursey rasps, after what feels like hours, and Chris looks down at him, startling.
Oh god, he even looks beautiful when he cries.
It was true: the red rimming his eyes made the green of his irises stand out, framed by tears darkening and crystallizing on his long lashes. Blood had rushed to his cheeks, flushing them, as well as his lips, giving them a reddened, kiss-swollen appearance. Chris’ own face goes hot; Derek bites his bottom lip and he can’t bear to draw his eyes away from it.
“Yeah?”
“...can you kiss me?”
Chris inhales sharply. “We shouldn’t--”
“I know.”
“You--”
Derek surges up and seals their mouths together. Every protest-- token and legitimate-- dies on his lips and is swiped away by Derek’s tongue.
Every atom of him feels like it’s on fire. His own tongue curls around the expanse of Derek’s mouth, swallowing the hot gasp that pours from it-- Derek’s fingers tighten, fisting the fabric in his grasp near-desperately. His free hand sneaks into Chris’ jet black hair, folding silkily through the pin-straight strands and then, as Chris responds with a groan, catching his lip between his teeth, his fingers tighten, deliciously.
Before he knows it, Chris is half on top of Derek, pressing him into the bed with their lips melded together. By the time he realizes what he’s doing, he’s shoving a knee between Derek’s thighs and dragging him close by the waist.
Fuck.
Chowder pulls away with a curse. Derek’s eyes fly open, half a moan tearing out of his throat-- the pupils are blown black, skin wrought with an impassioned rush of blood.
“I’m sorry,” Chris blurts out. “I’m sorry, Dee, but we- I- no. Not now, not-- not like this, okay? Not, like, never! But just... just not now. Not when you’re hurting like this.”
Derek swallows. “Right,” he says, suddenly quiet. “Sorry, you.. you probably want me to go.”
“No!”
Derek freezes. Chris gulps nervously, and then sits back on his calves, pulling Derek with him.
“Stay. Please.”
He hesitates. “I...”
“Derek.”
He bites his lip; quietly, after a few minutes, Derek nods. Chris breathes a sigh of relief.
“Thank you. C’mon, let’s sleep,” he says gratefully, and Nursey nods again, shifting to allow Chowder space on the bed. It takes time, but after a few moments of awkward shuffling, he pulls Nursey into his chest, fed up with discomfort and stiltedness. Nursey settles into it immediately, taking sharp little breaths that calm when he unconsciously syncs them up to Chris’.
Derek is asleep in minutes. Chris, spooned up behind him, follows just after between one breath and the next.
In the morning, when Chris wakes, he’s alone. Derek is gone. He’s clutching a pillow-- and drooled on it a little, which, embarrassing, he hopes he didn’t drool on Nursey-- and when he sits up, he sees a notebook at the end of the bed.
It’s nothing to reach for it, so he does, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It doesn’t say much, but it’s clearly from Nursey.
For nurseychow prompts, summer kisses that taste like ice cream
Cute!! Featuring Mexican!Nursey bc i’m sentimental lately !!
“You,” Nursey murmured, amused in the warm sun over New York, “Have paleta on your face.”
They’re on the rooftop of Nursey’s brownstone– Chris’ll never get over that, his boyfriend has a brownstone with a rooftop patio, what the fuck– relaxing by the poolside after a long morning of touring Nursey’s old haunts. They’d both gotten tired of wandering around at about two, and had grabbed food from some taco place with an owner who had cupped Derek’s cheek lovingly and thrown an extra order of churros and something called chilaquiles, which Chris had absolutely murdered the pronunciation of.
(”Es tu novio?” she asked, eyeballing them over her little glasses, and Derek blushed, nodding. She had looked Chris up and down, and then nodded, smiling. “Handsome,” she said approvingly, making it Chris’ turn to blush. On the walk home, an older man with a cart had stopped them, and Nursey had been in such a good mood that he’d gotten two paletas for each of them as well as his moms.
“They’re like… y’know, like popsicles,” he’d explained as the man handed him a brown bag. “You’ll like ‘em, swear.”)
“Yeah?” he asked, popsicle stick dangling from his lips, cracking an eye open to look at him, and found that Nursey had rolled over to face him, leaned up on his elbow with a smile.
Chris couldn’t help but to smile back. Derek was beautiful like this, eyes lit, bare skin darkening in the sun in a way that made him glow.
Nursey’s own grin widened. “Yeah,” he said, leaning in– gentle, he brought up his thumb to wipe at Chris’ cheek.
Drip swiped, Derek brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it off playfully. Chris only rolled his eyes; still, he tugged the stick from his mouth, slid a hand around the back of his boyfriend’s neck and pulled him in, pressing their lips together.
Derek’s eyes fluttered closed, humming; he licked into Chris’ mouth sweetly, moving against him in slow sync.
They shared a love for kissing, but there was something about kissing Nursey specifically, whether he was in control, their kissing hot and heavy, or like now, when Nursey’s soft mouth was open and lazy, tongue rolling slow against his own.
“You taste like coconut,” Derek said when they parted, eyes still closed, lips curved dreamily.
“Cuz I’m coconuts for you–”
“Aww, you ruined it,” Derek said, but he was laughing despite himself, and Chris tugged him in for another kiss, the taste of cream and their smiles between them.
areudirty
izzy806
stormborns
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
origamiaround
janainaart
