#omgpocplease

[captainsid]

😟 😊 🤔  - ransom

[stuckinomgcphell]

LOUD SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!

LOOK WHAT WAS IN THE MAILBOX!!!

[babeygirlbuckley]

and miles to go before i sleep

summary: Nursey has trouble asking for help. // available on ao3 here.

Derek knows that it’s selfish.  There’s no way anyone could ever be available to emotionally support him 24/7. They have their own lives and their own problems to deal with; he shouldn’t add his own to the mix. He knows that he’s putting ridiculous expectations onto everyone he interacts with and is holding them to impossible standards, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s still upset, and then he gets more upset with himself for being upset in the first place. He’s so stupid.

Dex has homework to do, which is fine, because the whole reason they’re in school in the first place is to learn shit, and they can only do that if they do their assignments, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to be sad about not getting any texts from his boyfriend. No reason at all. He wants Dex to succeed academically, but he won’t if Derek goes to his room and makes him worry. And if Dex worries about him, he’ll cuddle him for the rest of the night, which is not conducive to getting any of his work done. So really it’s better if he just leaves Dex alone.

Farmer went home for her Nana’s eightieth birthday celebration, which is a big one, and Chowder, of course, loves her a lot, so it only makes sense that he would miss her. Missing her is a perfectly good reason to bring her up whenever he talks to anyone, and of course he’s gonna respond when she texts, it’s not like he’s ignoring anyone on purpose, it’s just that Farmer’s more important to him. Plus her Nana’s been sick lately, so she’s worried about her, and she needs to talk about that with her boyfriend. Her understanding, supportive, loving boyfriend who drops entire conversations with the people around him to compose understanding, supportive, loving messages that will comfort and reassure her. It’s endearing, really. They have a strong and healthy relationship. Derek’s happy for them.

Bitty is spending the weekend with Jack, so Derek’s not gonna call to whine when Bitty hasn’t seen his boyfriend in nearly a month. And it’s not like he’s gonna call Jack, either. That would be a dick move. He’s not gonna encroach on their time together, or ruin their evening by interrupting their alone time and bombarding them with texts. He should let them have their time together. It’s good that they’re happy.

Ransom has enough of his own stuff to worry about; he doesn’t need Derek’s shit to pile on top of that. He should focus on his schoolwork. And even if he’s not doing homework right now, it’s good that he’s blowing off steam. He’s too stressed, it’s not healthy. Who is Derek to mess up what little free time Ransom has?

Holster is juggling too many people’s problems as it is. What with keeping Ransom afloat, reassuring his sisters whenever they’re going through something, talking his parents down when they’re trying to figure out how to deal with his sisters...it’s a lot. He doesn’t need Derek’s problems on top of all that. It would be selfish of him to even ask.

Maybe he could talk to Lardo--but wait, no, Lardo has a big project due that’s been kicking her ass for a couple weeks now. What kind of friend would he be if he took her away from that? A shit friend, that’s what kind. And it’s not like him feeling sad is that big a deal anyway; he’s depressed. He’s always sad. He takes his meds and he exercises regularly, but the sadness still lurks in the back of his mind. It drains him of all energy, makes it impossible to finish even the simplest of tasks. She doesn’t need any of that distracting her right now.

Shitty can barely figure himself out these days--how could Derek possibly ask him to pull focus from his epic journey of self-discovery just to talk Derek through another pointless meltdown? Everyone has bad days, he just needs to suck it up.

He’s not that close to any of the tadpoles, and it’s not like he can offer them dibs, so what reason would they have to listen to him? It’s better to not put them in the awkward position of having to pat his shoulder and give a heartfelt “That sucks, man.” Better to just leave them be, so they won’t see him like this.

Calling his family is out of the question. His mom worries about him enough already; she doesn’t need to listen to him cry. Dad will try, but won’t know what to say, so he’ll inevitably say the wrong thing. Jasmine is six years older than him and an entire ocean away right now--she has her own life, is starting her own family, and doesn’t need her annoying little brother messing stuff up for her.

So Derek decides to go for a walk to clear his head. And if he realizes his pockets are empty when he reaches for his phone to check the time, then he’s not gonna go back for it. No one will try to reach him anyway.

He starts a slow lope around campus, occasionally dabbing at his eyes with his scarf. Flurries start to blur the space in front of him, so he finds a tree and settles onto the ground in front of it, leaning against the trunk to watch the sky. He wonders, suddenly, what it would be like to fall from such a great height; he supposes he’d feel weightless, imagines that the air would be cool on his face. Time would simultaneously pass in a blink and stretch on endlessly.

Derek loves the endlessness of snow. He used to marvel at blizzards as a child, watching them from his bedroom window with awe. It just keeps piling up, dusting the grass and the roads until it’s a thick coating that covers everything, wrapping the earth in a firm embrace. A blanket, keeping him warm while he sleeps.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

[cryptenby]

Nursey Week: Day 3 and 4

I usually let my chat friends read my stuff before I post, but I got too impatient. So forgive any mistakes. lol I'm also a piece of shit who can't write every day, so here's another combination of days. Trigger warning for mention of anxiety and recreational drug use. sensitive friends, and a challenge of kisses It's 2 am and Derek Nurse can't sleep. Today was a particularly bad day: he forgot to take his meds, spilled coffee all over himself and had to go back to his dorm to change making him late for an exam, and his anxiety was running so high today that he could barely focus at practice. He knows the guys had to notice; they kept shooting him sympathetic looks when a pass didn’t land or goal fell through. Derek is the first off the ice and slips into the showers, letting the scalding water run over his skin. I am okay. I am not a failure. I’m not going to lose my spot on the team. He repeats these things over and over with his face turned to the spray to try and wash the invasive thoughts from his mind. Surprisingly, it helps, and he steps out with his skin a bit less crawly than before. He heads back to the lockers to get dressed and Lardo is sitting on the bench chewing gum and looking at her phone. “Hey Lards.” Derek whispers, a little exhausted from the anxiety running through his veins and the water relaxing his muscles. “Hey Nursey. Miss your meds?” The question is blunt and straight to the point, and Nursey knows Lardo well enough to not be offended. “Yeah, actually. How did you know?” “Your hands started shaking after you missed the second pass during practice. Listen, Shitty had a random couple of days available, so he was coming down to visit. I was going to herd everyone out to hang out together, but I have a feeling you need some time with him.” “Firstly, I don't know if you have ever said that many words to me at once,” Nursey chuckles as Lardo leans over and punches him in the arm. “Secondly, i really appreciate you.” Smiling, Lardo nods and leaves him to get ready. “He’ll be in the Reading Room. ********************** Nursey walks into the doors of the Haus pleasantly surprised at the silence. He hadn’t realized that Lardo still planned on taking the boys out to leave a quiet house, and mentally thanked her for her consideration as he made his way up the stairs. Shitty had an uncanny ability to tell when Nurse’s anxiety was really messing with him even back in Andover, and actually helped him find some coping mechanisms that worked well for him. They had gotten even closer in Samwell, and Nursey forgot how much he missed him until the excitement at seeing him started to settle in his chest. He finally climbed out onto the roof; Shitty looked like a dream, sitting in sweatpants and a t shirt with blankets and bags surrounding him, his knees pulled up to his chest and his lips kissing a blunt. He turns when he hears the window close and his grin is blinding. “Nursey Nurse, you gorgeous motherfucker. How the fuck are you, brah?” Shitty rasps, the effect of the smoke scraping his throat. He pulls Nursey into a hug and hands him the blunt. “Hey, man. Okay I guess. Today was not good. I still feel like my skin is trying to crawl away.” “Yeah, Lardo told me. I grabbed your heaviest blanket in case you wanted the weight, your softest blanket, and some snacks. Bitty had my favorite pie and yours, so I grabbed us a couple slices. That cool?” Nursey smiled around the hit he was taking and nodded, tears springing to his eyes. “Yeah, bro. Fucking tell me about law school.” “I’ll do you one better: I’ll talk shit about law school, and leave you to finish that blunt.” Derek took another hit in response. He was still tucked into Shitty’s side, and after a moment of listening to him talk, he pulls his softer blanket, wrapping it around them both instead of pulling away. He listens to Shitty talk about his life, chuckling at appropriate intervals and asking questions when he need clarification. They pass stories between them and Nursey can’t remember the last time he felt so calm and safe. Somehow, despite communicating with him the least, Shitty always managed to take care of him the best and halfway through the second story Shitty told, Nursey realized he really really wanted to kiss him. “Yo, Shits, I know we’re not playing a game, but i have a dare for you.” Nursey looks up at him from his spot on his lap, eyes low from the weed and Shitty’s fingers in his hair and his inhibitions lowered with the last sweet hit. “Sure brah, try me.” “I dare you to try a taste of my pie without taking a bite.” Shitty furrows his brow while trying to figure out how to complete the dare. He doesn’t stop running his fingers through Nursey’s curls, and Nursey is starting to get impatient waiting for him to get it when Shitty starts laughing. He stands and grabs the slice and feeds Nursey a bite. “Bro if you wanted to kiss me, you could have just fucking asked.” He cups Derek’s face with a smile and chases the taste of pumpkin and cinnamon and cloves. Nursey feels light and buzzy, his skin sensitive and vibrating as Shitty’s kiss lights him up from the inside out. He rubs his thumbs over the apples of Shitty’s cheeks as he kisses away the troubles of the day, under his softest blanket and another blanket of stars.

[captainsid]

omgcp moodboard: Justin ‘Ransom’ Oluransi

[stuckinomgcphell]

A rare shannon selfie (TM) for yall from 2day. 💁

[babeygirlbuckley]

a softer world

summary: Nursey’s mom reminds him of a lesson she’d rather he didn’t have to learn. // written for @nurseyweek day four prompt “18.” available on ao3 here.

Erika Nurse is standing outside her youngest son’s bedroom door, fist poised to knock, when she hears him laugh. The sound is just as open and free as it was when it first bubbled out of him as a baby, and it warms her heart. That sweet baby grew into a man in a blink, and now she’s preparing to see him off to college.

Jasmine and Ivan had gone before him, and Gabriela will go after; she’s familiar with this feeling, but it still rests heavily in her chest. His voice makes its way through the door, cutting off her brief musings. He’s singing, “His Royal Highness, Christopher Rupert--”

Her own laugh startles out of her. He’s watching Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, a masterpiece of a movie she’d first shown him as a toddler that he has yet to let go of. Their old VHS tape had been worn down beyond repair years ago from his constant rewatching, but it still has a place in his room--right beside the DVD copy they’d gotten to replace it for one of his birthdays. She pushes the door open a crack, and sure enough, there he is, clutching his stuffed dog to his chest and bouncing happily to the beat.

The door creaks, giving her away. He turns to look at her, still smiling.

“Hey Mommy,” he says casually, pausing the movie.

She pushes it open all the way and comes in. “Hey, baby. Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries, you’re fine. What’s up?” he asks, making room on his bed for her.

She takes up more space than he allotted her, deliberately leaning into him. It has the desired effect; he chuckles and pushes at her, pretending to be annoyed, but ends up wrapping his arm around her in a side hug. She returns it, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He’s not as small as he used to be, she thinks mournfully.

“You wanna watch?” he offers, gesturing to the TV with the remote.

“That’s okay. I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She pulls back from their hug so she can look at his face. “You’re gonna be leaving me soon.”

He shrugs. “I won’t be that far. And it’s not like you won’t still see me all the time,” he assures her.

She nods. “I know. I just worry, that’s all.”

“‘Bout what?”

This is what she’d come here for, and she’d been gearing herself up all night for it, but his open expression, the ease with which he asks--he’s still so young. Too young. He doesn’t need to know that the world is cruel. But maybe it’s naive to think that he doesn’t already, wishful thinking on her part. She looks at him and sees the little boy who’d followed Jasmine and Ivy everywhere, who put poems in her Mother’s Day cards next to careful drawings of the six of them playing in the park. Other people will look at him and see a threat.

“I know how you like to have fun,” she starts, changing tactics, “but I want you to be careful. Dad and I will still come get you if you need us, but keep in mind that it’s a longer drive now.”

“Mom, oh my god,” he laughs. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m some kinda party animal from. I like to keep a low profile, come on.”

She raises a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Just don’t be actin’ a fool up there, okay? Stick with that loud friend of yours, the one with the name.”

“Shi--uh, Milky? I hate to break it to you, but he’s not exactly a paragon of virtue.”

“He will be if he ever wants to come back here again,” she warns. She’d had her doubts about him when he’d first come over to work on a group project with Ivan--and even more when he seemed to latch onto Ivan’s little brother instead of his own classmate--but he’s been a constant presence in their house, nothing but respectful and polite. Except for his shouting. And his cussing when he thinks she can’t hear him. “And I’ve told him to take care of you, too, so he knows what’s at stake.”

He rolls his eyes, and she finds herself aching for the days when he could afford to be carefree. When hardly the only words he spoke were lines from his favorite movie.

“I’ll be fine, seriously. Were you like this for Jas and Blue?”

“I worry about all of you, mijo,” she says, reaching out to turn some of his curls between her fingertips. “You just happen to be the only one starting a brand new chapter of their life in a few days.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, and she wills herself to breach the intended topic of conversation.  

“Baby,” she starts slowly, “you know, with everything that’s been happening lately . . . you know you need to be careful, right?”

She hates that his eyes tighten, catching her meaning immediately. “Yeah, I know,” he answers softly.

“And you remember what I taught you before?”

“Yeah, I remember.” His brightness has dulled, and she hates the world for forcing her to do this. “If I’m at a party and the cops show up, stay with a group. If I get stopped and frisked, don’t make too much eye contact, but don’t keep my head down. Keep my hands outta my pockets and stay relaxed.”

It kills her that Mike Brown’s mother probably had this same conversation with her son. She hates that there are millions of other black parents giving their black children the same advice. But most of all, she’s terrified that this might not be enough to keep him safe.

“You keep your phone in your hand, okay?” she urges. “You can open your camera right from the lock screen, right? Don’t forget to hit record.”

“I won’t,” he promises solemnly.

She takes a shaky breath, dropping her hand through the hair at his temple and cradling his face. She hates that she’s brought her children--four beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent, kind-hearted, amazing children--into a world that tears them down, devalues them. “You know I love you, right, sweetheart?”

His expression is confused now. “Of course.”

“And call me if you need me,” she reminds him. “I don’t care what time it is or what you think I’m doing, call me.”

This had been a hard lesson to teach him; nothing he needs will ever inconvenience her, she will always want to talk to him, he’s always tied for number one on her list of priorities. For now he seems to believe her, taking her hand from her lap and resting their palms together. “I will.”

The smile she gives him is watery, but he returns it with his usual dimpled one. She’ll destroy the world for that smile, build up a better one that deserves Jasmine’s quick wit and Ivan’s wild dancing and Derek’s dimples and Gabi’s sure voice. And God help anyone that tries to stop her.