HawkeyeState



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    “Kent – Parson?” Dex said, kind of a squeak. “Like…”

    “How many Kent Parsons you know of?” Nursey said. “Yeah, Parson. Number one celeb crush. I’m mad into that douche-ass smirk, man.”

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    21 Mar 2018

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    “My true love will have hair the color of yellow apples,” and Jack Zimmermann will take a bite from the forbidden fruit, juice running down his chin. “My true love will be exactly five feet and six-and-a-half inches tall,” and he will chew a leaf from a tree of that same height. “My true love will be as sweet as sugar and sharp as lemon,” and he will drink half a glass of Great-Aunt Cathy’s lemonade, waiting until the last dregs of sugar hit his tongue. “And if a single one of these things is not to be, then let it be known—my true love shall not be he.”

    (He knows in his bones that this spell won't ever come true. After all, his true love isn't real, and if he's not real, then the curse can't take him. That's the whole point.)

    --

    Or, a Practical Magic AU. Wherein Jack Zimmermann must deal with family curses, hockey legacies, accidental manslaughter, Kent Parson's obstinate death wish, and a snarky Southern kitchen warlock who won't mind his own damn business.

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    07 Mar 2018

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "Dicky?"

    "Hi, Mama."

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    10 Feb 2018

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    Kent shows up to Epikegster a half an hour later than in canon, and it makes all the difference.

    "Lord," Bittle says, giggling and leaning into Jack's side, leaning right in like he's perfectly happy to have Jack's arm around his waist. "You playing beer pong. That'll be the day. If that ever happened, you better believe I'd be gettin' that whole thing on video." He stops giggling abruptly and glances up at Jack. "I mean, I wouldn't put that online. Obviously. Just for, y'know, all of us."

    Jack nods. He wants to say something, but he's not sure what. It's on the tip of his tongue. Jack wants…

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    06 Feb 2018

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    The words on his arm were crisp and clear, written in a rushed-looking scrawl like someone had taken a purple marker to Phil’s skin.

    So I take it that second honeymoon isn’t working out the way you’d hoped?

    Phil’s legs went out from under him and he sat down with a painful thud, all brain processes diverted to the task of staring at his arm and wondering—and wondering—

    Phil was waiting, was the thing. Not for sex—definitely not for that—but for romance, for a relationship. He knew that not every soulbond was sexual or romantic in nature, but most were, and he wanted that, wanted the kind of marriage his parents had, bound together in every possible way.
    And he was going to meet his soulmate on his second honeymoon?

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    27 Dec 2017