omgcheckplease side blog

Jack: like three flag emojis to show he’s ~cultured~

Dex: man holding fish

Bitty: “Order me pizza and tell me I’m pretty”

Nursey: “connect with me with your mind, emotions, and *then* maybe with your body.”

Shitty & Lardo: “we’re looking for a third” couple with a joint account

Holster: bio section is literally just a list of sitcoms he likes

Ransom: “I’m 6′ since I guess that matters lol”

Tango: “I’m 19 idk why it says I’m 23″

Whiskey: shirtless headless pics only. aside from a group photo where he is unidentified in a sea of identical men. I think I have mild face blindness actually.

Chowder: random fact that is interesting, but unrelated to literally anything

Holster, from the audience: And you’re still an ASSHOLE

today on: why are we talking about check please in the anime channel? ...last names by marriage

I like to think that Jack is so 110% that he can somewhat tell how Bitty is feeling based on the way his food tastes.

-Jack eating his sandwich with Marty, Thirdy or Tater (really anyone that is aware of Jack and Bitty)

Jack takes one bite, makes a contemplative face, puts down the sandwhich, takes out his phone and steps into the hallway. He returns 15 mintues later and continues eating as if nothing of significance occured.

“What was that about?”

“ Something was bothering Bittle so I just wanted to make sure he was ok.”

They ponder a moment for it seems whatever the issue, it has been resovled and prying isn’t a good way to talk to Jack. So they drop it and continued with their lunch.

This happens every so often and they start to wonder how suddenly in the middle of the day, Jack claims that something is “bothering” Bitty? One day someone decides to finally ask.

“If somthing is bothering Bitty why do you wait til you eat half your food before you call him?”

“I’m not always completely sure if he’s upset unless i talk to him directly or at least eat his food.”

“His food? Like what, it tastes bad?”

“No its still delicious, but different somehow. So i just call to check up. Usually its stress from school, so we talk through it and discuss how its going.”

“But how can you taste something like that?”

And Jack Laurent Zimmermann, as if someone casually asked 1+1? His response accompanied with the slightest shrug:

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Like what a silly question to ask?

Multiple sighs are released and heads hang low. Food is put down as eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. Some even have to leave, overwhelmed by Jack’s insane sincerity.

After practice Jack notices quite a few guys on their phones. Not meaning to, Jack passes and overhears variations of “Wondering how your day has been” And “Just thinking about you so I wanted to call and say hi.”

Because that’s so…Jack. Intense, focused, insanely sincere. Not that he can’t ever lie or joke, but he’s so extremely straightforward and un-ironic in what he wants and how he thinks.

This is Jack who, when asked what he wanted to buy with his first NHL paycheck said “a truck”. Who thinks that his neon yellow running shoes are ‘neat’. Jack, who told Bitty he loved him after a crazy short amount of time. Jack who is sincerely polite to parents. Jack who says things in mid-game interviews like “well, the boys are all trying really hard out there” and genuinely means it. 

Jack “110% Zimmermann. 

I tweaked it a bit so that the resemblance was easier to see ;D

I mean…

Okay.

Bitty’s a light sleeper. It’s a consequence of being an only child, probably, or of growing up somewhere where the loudest sound is a bird chirping. In the Haus, his roommates are practically nocturnal, so he can sleep in as long as he likes.  Providence is different. On the nights that Bittle spent there during the school  year, Jack’s alarm went off by six. Bitty grumbled into the pillow, and Jack leaned forward, pressing warm kisses to Bittle’s temple. Bittle turned. He laid back against the blankets. Jack was always square-jawed and swoopy-haired and awake, completely awake, just seconds after his alarm went off. Jack pushed in, kissed him, left Bittle sleepy and silly against the pillow. Some days, Jack went for a run, and Bittle went back to bed. Sometimes Bittle hopped up and got an early start on breakfast. The morning after the last post-Cup press conference, Bittle rolled Jack onto his back. There were no hungover hockey players in their living room, no one waiting for a comment. It was their bed, their apartment. Bittle straddled Jack’s hips. It was day one of their first summer spent living together, and Bitty wanted to wake up like this every morning.

It’s less pleasant by day ten.

nurseydex + the long and homoerotic process of nursey choosing which picture to post (partly inspired by this post)

bonus:

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“Oh, a mama’s boy, how nice for you,” they’d say, as Dicky joined her on errands at the grocery store, or the bank, or they’d watch him volunteer at church bake sales and dinners and say, “He’s so sweet that one, you must be so pleased to have a kind son.” Dicky preened, as he was wont to do, and Suzanne would smile back politely they way she was raised to.

She understood what they meant, of course. Dicky loved baking more than football and would choose a night in on the couch watching movies with her over causing mayhem in town like so many other boys in town liked to do. By all appearances Dicky was more hers than Richard’s, at least in those kinds of things.

But appearances, especially in the south, don’t always reflect the truth.

Suzanne remembers a night when Dicky was young, maybe 12 or 13. He’d been home from school when Suzanne got off work– she’d stayed later to help a student rework an essay and traffic hadn’t been favorable on the way back. It wasn’t surprising that Dicky was home, as he had a key and tended to let himself in on his own if he didn’t have practice after school, but what was surprising was that Richard sat on the couch, flipping through sports channels, when Suzanne walked in the door.

She blinked. “Hon?” She dropped her bag, left her keys in the dish by the door. “What’re you doing home?”

Richard grumbled something and then, louder, “Cancelled practice.”

“What for?” Suzanne shed her shoes. “Weather’s fine.”

Richard grumbled more and did not clarify.

Suzanne knew better than to stir when he was in this state, so she padded off to the kitchen to start dinner only to find Dicky there in a haze of flour and pie filling. He did not look up when she walked in the room.

“Dicky, honey.” She surveyed the damage– not a clean dish in sight and at least four pies cooling somewhere in the room. “What’s going on?”

“I’m bakin’ Mama.” Dicky smiled over the bowl he was stirring, quite vigorously. “Thought I could bring something to Shirley May’s granddaughter’s baptism this weekend.”

“Oh.” Suzanne frowned. They hadn’t signed up for providing sweets for the social hour that week at church, and Mrs. Franklin who ran it didn’t take kindly to people disrupting the schedule. “That’s– nice, baby.” She cleared her throat. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and do homework or something while I fix up dinner?”

“I can help.” Dicky straightened up, shoulders braced. The way he did when Richard asked him about skating practice. “What’re you makin’?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to–”

“I want to. Really.”

Suzanne frowned deeper and Dicky just kept on staring at her, this odd smile on his lips and his body pulled straight like a puppet with taut strings. “Alright, baby, I’m sure I can find you a job. Why don’t you start on some dishes?”

Dicky nodded and rolled up his sleeves, turning around and starting the faucet. Suzanne watched him move, body coiled tight like before he went to do a jump on the ice.

“Is everything alright, baby? Did something happen at school today?”

“What? No, Mama, what would give you that idea?” Dicky didn’t turn from the sink. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dicky grabbed a dish, dragging it into the sink with a clatter, the noise silencing any further questions. Suzanne started on dinner, as they had to eat, strangeness or not, and she had a heavy inkling that trying to prod Dicky when he was like this would be an exercise in futility.

Some ten years later, Suzanne sits on her couch in an empty house staring at her cellphone, clasped in a steadily shaking hand.

How did the game go? she typed out, a handful of minutes ago.

Read 9:13 P.M., her husband’s phone responds.

Dicky does not even give her that.

As a bilingual from Quebec, I can give you a pretty good answer!! The kid would probably and entirely quebecois accent when speaking French, because they would’ve learned it from Jack, who speaks quebecois French!!! Kids can also tell when someone isn’t comfortable in a language, so odds are they wouldn’t have picked up any of Bittys bad pronunciation!

As for English, this is largely dependent on a few factors: 1. How strong Jacks accent is 2. Where the kid grows up 3. What languages Jack and Bitty speak at home!!

1.Depending on how strong Jacks accent is, it’s possible to have a kid with a an entirely mishmash accent, a kid with a barely perceptible quebecois accent or anything in between!!! If we consider the fact that Jack has been speaking English since he was young, that his dad is a celebrity and that his mom is probably an anglophone (which I deduced from the fact that she took Bob’s last name when she got married, something we don’t do in Quebec)gingerest-aleConsidering all of that, I think it’s fair to assume that Jack doesn’t have a very strong accent!!! He would probably sound more like someone from Ontario than someone from Quebec, so their kid probably doesn’t have a super strong French influence in their accent

2. People will adapt their way of speaking to match the people around them!! So depending on where the kid was raised, that will probably have a strong influence on their accent! If they were raised in Providence for example, the kid would probably sound a lot like more like Jack, since the northeastern accent is pretty close to how Jack (probably) speaks English!

3. Accent will also depend on how they speak at home too!! For example if Jack mostly speaks to their kid in French, they would probably pick up less of Jacks accent!! The age at which the kid learned each language would also have an impact, if they learned both very early they would probably sound like a native speaker in both, but if they learned French later or didn’t speak French very often at home then the kid could also have an anglophone accent when they speak French!!!

So the most likely scenario, assuming the kid was raised in Providence and learned both languages pretty early, is that they mostly have the same accent as anyone else from Providence, with maybe a few sounds that they do differently because of Jack and/or Bitty!!! Accents are about how you make certain sounds and kids usually pick those up from the place where they live more than from parents, but that’s a boring answer so here’s where it gets really fun: expressions!!

Speaking from personal experience, the kid probably picked up expressions from Jack and Bitty, so while they might not have an accent there’s a good chance the kids friends will catch them saying something that sounds absolutely nonsensical or very southern to them!!! For me, sometimes I translate Quebecois expressions into English and I don’t realize that *oh wait is that not an expression in english?* until someone gives me a weird look!!

Jack probably uses a lot of quebecois expressions like that too, so odds are his kid would have picked up on some, and some of Bitty’s southern mannerisms too!!!!! It’s 100% plausible that this kid would say metro instead of subway in the same breath as using more southern vocabulary too!!

He walks into the kitchen, a week or so after they’ve settled in, and there’s a little list pinned to the fridge by a Sharks magnet (courtesy of you know exactly who). At the top, grocery list is underlined once, crookedly, and three things have been written underneath it: milk, coffee, M&Ms. (Another unexpected thing Nursey learns about Dex is that he’s got a nigh-unmanageable sweet tooth that apparently only Bitty’s pastries and M&Ms can soothe. It’s adorable and– for Nursey– exactly too much to handle.)

Nursey stops in front of the fridge and blinks three times. Huh.

The letters are thick– likely from the size of the pen nib– but neat, slanted just slightly to the right. It’s somewhat a mixture of cursive and print, some letters smushed close enough that they’re connected while others– the t most distinctly– are completely separate. It’s pointed, but casual. Contained, but relaxed.

Nursey doesn’t know if he’s ever given thought to what Dex’s handwriting looks like– he certainly doesn’t know if he’s seen it before and just forgot– but it isn’t anything like he would have imagined. It makes sense, maybe, the letters in front of him, but he’d been imagining some kind of font looking thing, pristine and angry in its perfection.

Then again, Nursey thinks, still standing in front of the fridge– now with absolutely no idea what he was going to retrieve from it– that idea of Dex– angry, perfect, contained– is outdated. If it ever was true, it isn’t anymore, and it was based, loosely, in only the things Dex was willing to show– the things Nursey was willing to acknowledge. And now, Nursey is standing barefoot in a kitchen he shares with William Jebediah Poindexter, the one and only, and–

And he’s realizing, with a sudden, painful acuteness, that this whole thing is Dex saying he’s willing to show it all. Willing to stop hiding. Willing to share.

The idea of it is dizzying and Nursey sways where he’s standing, still in front of the fridge, still aimless, probably grinning like an idiot. Maybe, he thinks blearily, him asking Dex to move in with him in the first place was his own version of opening up, or at the least, his desire to try.

Dex walks in then, in a PJs and threadbare t-shirt he’s probably had since high school. He frowns at Nursey, standing and swaying, and lightly hip checks him out of the way of the fridge door. “You’re being weird,” he says. “Stop it.”

Nursey grins a little wider. “Never,” he says, and bats his eyelashes at Dex.