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cellythefloshie · 1 year ago

Text

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary:��When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N: I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1.

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule.

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained.

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach.

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away.

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer.

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-”

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his.

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide.

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun.

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair.

Act 2.

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it.

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together.

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor.

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up.

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there.

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way.

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor.

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting.

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside.

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face.

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago.

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed.

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.”

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.”

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him.

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight.

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back.

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out.

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing.

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room.

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow.

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you.

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin.

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor.

Luc had never touched you like that before.

So carefully.

So slowly.

Hell, had he ever really touched you?

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser.

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once.

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc.

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too.

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his.

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you.

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter.

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner.

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed.

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt.

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him.

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in.

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew.

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded.

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth.

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own.

If you had the air, you would have gasped.

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc.

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open.

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel.

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair.

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability.

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you.

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest.

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?”

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered.

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him.

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage.

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall.

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you.

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them.

So instead, you suffered in silence.

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed.

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth.

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow. The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him.

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours.

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned.

Both of you were restless.

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you.

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth.

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark.

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow.

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow.

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest.

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again.

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further.

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend.

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that.

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties.

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core.

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline.

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier.

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first.

No regrets.

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made.

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips.

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click.

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy.

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing.

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg.

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock.

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him.

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back.

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more.

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold.

Around your throat.

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips.

Your core clenched.

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core.

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you.

But then Luc smiled.

You smiled too.

And you regretted nothing.

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception.

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs.

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night.

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car.

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love.

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began.

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers.

But you did get your kiss.

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you.

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne.

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips, as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone.

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to.

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone.

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t.

Luc was tucked away with his ex.

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his, as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only.

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous.

And it worked.

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up.

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more?

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow.

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc.

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street.

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him.

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too.

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue.

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest.

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.”

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars.

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with.

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.”

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him.

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face.

“Why should I?” You bit back.

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there.

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street.

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab.

Act 3.

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal.

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc.

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room?

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind.

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before.

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time.

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you.

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat.

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door.

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed.

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first.

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home.

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression.

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind.

You weren’t going to.

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind.

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board.

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say.

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way.

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you.

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand.

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play.

Kiss Her You Fool.

Take Me to Church.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never.

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab.

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology.

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you.

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him.

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car.

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened.

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him.

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist.

Luc smiled.

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him.

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed, “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath.

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions.

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss.

You loved him too.

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois fanfic #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nicole's birthday bingo #senditcolton #birthday bingo

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ilopisara · 9 months ago

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12.04. 22:07 | Ilo Pisara vs As Gudas It Gets 4 - 3

Ah, the sweet taste of victory with a side dish of overtime drama! Ilo Pisara clinched another win, edging out As Gudas It Gets 4-3 in a nail-biter that surely had fans on the edge of their seats—or asleep from the suspense, who knows? Teppo Winnipeg was like a Swiss Army knife out there—versatile but probably couldn't open a can if we needed him to. Yet, he managed to rack up 3 assists and net one himself; talk about being an overachiever when it barely counts! Yuri Tarde between the pipes... well, let's just say he stopped enough pucks to not be considered a sieve. A save percentage of .75? More holes in his game than my grandma’s knitting. Macho Fantastico lived up to half his name - "Fantastico" must have been taking the night off. But hey, at least he didn’t trip over his ego. And Jani Saari – our sniper turned demolition derby enthusiast with those hits – decided scoring twice wasn’t enough without also playing bumper cars on ice. After some historical lows (looking at you losses against Beer Bees and Jormat), this win feels like finding money in your winter coat from last season—a pleasant surprise but doesn’t quite make you rich. Onward Ilo Pisara—to glory or at least until someone figures out Teppo might do better opening cans than leading defense!

#nhl24

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brookston · 11 months ago

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Holidays 2.16

Holidays

Akiyoshidai Yamayaki (Japan)

Archbishop Janani Luwum Memorial Day (Uganda)

Bir Chilarai Divas (Assam, India)

Bumper Car Day

Cheque Day

Citizenship Day (Canada)

Cyclamen Day (French Republic)

Day of the Shining Star (North Korea)

Do A Grouch A Favor Day

Elizabeth Peratrovich Day (Alaska)

First 911 Call Day

Gator Nation Giving Day (Florida)

Gold Standard Day

Harvey the Hound Day (Canada)

Heart’s Day (Elder Scrolls)

IEEE Foundation Day

Innovation Day

International Black Aviation Day

International Jewish Day of Constructive Conflict

Kick Day

Kyoto Protocol Day

LOINC Day

Makha Bucha Day (Thailand)

National Buna Day (Ethiopia)

National No One Eats Alone Day

Nine-One-One Day

Restoration of Lithuania's Statehood Day

Tutankhamen’s Tomb Day

216 Day (Ohio)

Wear Purple for Kyoto Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Feast of Sticky Buns

International Syrah Day

National Almond Day

Tartar Sauce Day

Tim Tam Day (Australia)

3rd Friday in February

Care Day (UK) [3rd Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Global Divestment Day (UK) [Friday of Go Green Week]

Heritage Day (Yukon Territory, Canada) [3rd Friday]

National Caregivers Day [3rd Friday]

National Woman’s Heart Day [3rd Friday]

World Porter Day [3rd Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning February 16

Girl Scout Cookie Weekend [thru 2.18]

National FFA Week [thru 2.24]

Independence & Related Days

Lithuania (from Russia & German Empire, 1918)

Sovereignty Day (Serbia)

Festivals Beginning February 16, 2024

Adelaide Fringe Festval Adelaide, South Australia) [thru 3.17]

Babcock Ranch Seafood & Music Festival (Punta Gorda, Florida) [thru 2.18]

Carnevale di Venezia (Venice, Italy) [thru 3.5]

Festival du Voyageur (Winnipeg, Canada) [thru 2.25]

Fiddler Crab Festival (Steinhatchee, Florida) [thru 2.18]

Great Backyard Bird Count [thru 2.19]

Inter Varsity Folk Dance Festival (York, UK) [thru 2.18]

New Zealand Fringe Festival (Wellington, New Zealand) [thru 3.9]

Philippine International Hot Air Balloon Fiesta (Capas, Philippines) [thru 2.18]

Riverside County Fair & National Date Festival (Indio, California) [thru 2.25]

WBCA Jalapeño Festival (Lardeo, Texas)

Wine & Chowder Trails (Florence, Oregon) [thru 2.18]

Feast Days

Abda of Edessa (Christian; Saint)

Armand Guillaumin (Artology)

Bonten Matsuri festival begins (Asking for Good Crops; Japan)

Charles Todd Quintard (Episcopal Church (USA))

Cremation Wednesday (Church of the SubGenius)

Devil’s Dance (Everyday Wicca)

Elias, Jeremy, Isaias, Samuel, and Daniel (Christian; Egyptian Martyrs)

Friday after Shrove Tuesday (Western Christianity) [44 Days before Easter (a.k.a. ...

Friday Fish Fry Day (Midwest US)

National Tartar Sauce Day

Kissing Friday

Nippy Hug Day (Westmoreland, UK)

Gilbert of Sempringham (Christian; Saint)

Gregory X, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Guru Ravidas Jayanti (a.k.a. Magha Purinma; Parts of India)

Hash Wednesday (Church of the SubGenius)

Iace (a.k.a. Tatto) of Scotland (Christian; Saint)

Iain Bank (Writerism)

Juliana of Nicomedia (Catholic Church; Virgin & Martyr)

Juvenal (Positivist; Saint)

Kanō Eitoku (Artology)

Michelangelo Cerquozzi (Artology)

Onesimus (Christian; Saint)

Platypus Pondering Day (Pastafarian)

Respectable Tales of Kelp-Koli (Shamanism) [5 Minutes]

Richard Ford (Writerism)

Secret Patience Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Three Good Deaths Day [Salmon, Pigs, Robbers] (Celtic Book of Days)

Vasant Panchami (a.k.a. Saraswati Puja; Celebrating harvest goddess Saraswati; Hindu)

Victoria — Nike’s Day (Pagan)

Warren Ellis (Writerism)

Zowie-Zown the Upside-Down Clown (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 47 [15 of 72]

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

Ants in Your Pantry (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1945)

Black Panther (Film; 2018)

The Bostonians, by Henry James (Novel; 1885)

Bridge to Tarabithia (Film; 2007)

Bringing Up Baby (Film; 1938)

Carousel (Film; 1956)

Cher (TV Series; 1975)

Down to Earth (Film; 2001)

The Duck Doctor (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1952)

Early Man (Animated Film; 2018)

Factory Girl (Film; 2007)

Fit to be Toyed (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1959)

Ghost Rider (Film; 2007)

Gift Wrapped (WB LT Cartoon; 1952)

Happy Gilmore (Film; 1996)

Jersey Bounce, by Shep Fields and His Orchestra (Song; 1942)

Let’s You and Him Fight (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1934)

The Little Red Hen (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1934)

The Mad Hatter (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1948)

The Man Who Folded Himself, by David Gerrold (Novel; 1973)

Muppet Treasure Island (Film; 1996)

My Mom’s Having a Baby (DePatie-Freleng Animated TV Special; 1977)

The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace, by Christopher Short (Novel; 1976) [Saint #46]

Scooby-Doo! Abracadabra-Doo (WB Animated Film; 2010)

Sexual Politics, by Kate Millett (Political Theory; 1970)

Spanish Harlem, recorded by Aretha Franklin (Song; 1971)

Sweet November (Film; 2001)

Time Regained, by Marcel Proust (Novel; 1927)

The Venture Bros. (Animated TV Series; 2003)

Werther, by Jules Massenet (Opera; 1892)

When the Cat’s Away (Happy Harmonies Cartoon; 1935)

The Witches (Film; 1990)

Today’s Name Days

Adalbert, Juliana, Liane, Philippa (Austria)

Julijana, Miljenko, Samuel (Croatia)

Ljuba (Czech Republic)

Juliane (Denmark)

Alda, Aldi, Miralda, Miranda, Valda, Velda (Estonia)

Kai (Finland)

Julienne, Lucile, Onésime (France)

Juliana, Liane (Germany)

Pamfillie, Pamfillos, Sele (Greece)

Julianna, Lilla (Hungary)

Faustino, Giorgia, Giovita, Sigfrido (Italy)

Aloizs, Alvils, Olafs, Olavs, Ulafs (Latvia)

Girdenė, Girdenis, Jovita, Jurgita, Vytis (Lithuania)

Sigbjørn, Sigfred (Norway)

Faustyn, Georgia, Georgina, Jordan, Jowita, Józef, Klaudiusz, Przybyrad, Sewer (Poland)

Onisim (Romania)

Pravoslav (Slovakia)

Claudio, Faustino (Spain)

Sigfrid (Sweden)

Georgette, Georgia, Georgina, Jovan, Jovita, Siegfried, Sigrid, Sue, Susan, Susana, Susanna, Susie, Suzanne (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 47 of 2024; 319 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 7 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 27 of 28]

Chinese: Month 1 (Bing-Yin), Day 7 ()

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025)

Hebrew: 7 Adair I 5784

Islamic: 6 Sha’ban 1445

J Cal: 17 Grey; Threesday [17 of 30]

Julian: 3 February 2024

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 19 Homer (2nd Month) [Juvenal]

Runic Half Month: Sigel (Sun) [Day 8 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 58 of 89)

Week: 2nd Week of February

Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 26 of 28)

#calendar #Holidays

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brookstonalmanac · 11 months ago

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Holidays 2.16

Holidays

Akiyoshidai Yamayaki (Japan)

Archbishop Janani Luwum Memorial Day (Uganda)

Bir Chilarai Divas (Assam, India)

Bumper Car Day

Cheque Day

Citizenship Day (Canada)

Cyclamen Day (French Republic)

Day of the Shining Star (North Korea)

Do A Grouch A Favor Day

Elizabeth Peratrovich Day (Alaska)

First 911 Call Day

Gator Nation Giving Day (Florida)

Gold Standard Day

Harvey the Hound Day (Canada)

Heart’s Day (Elder Scrolls)

IEEE Foundation Day

Innovation Day

International Black Aviation Day

International Jewish Day of Constructive Conflict

Kick Day

Kyoto Protocol Day

LOINC Day

Makha Bucha Day (Thailand)

National Buna Day (Ethiopia)

National No One Eats Alone Day

Nine-One-One Day

Restoration of Lithuania's Statehood Day

Tutankhamen’s Tomb Day

216 Day (Ohio)

Wear Purple for Kyoto Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Feast of Sticky Buns

International Syrah Day

National Almond Day

Tartar Sauce Day

Tim Tam Day (Australia)

3rd Friday in February

Care Day (UK) [3rd Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Global Divestment Day (UK) [Friday of Go Green Week]

Heritage Day (Yukon Territory, Canada) [3rd Friday]

National Caregivers Day [3rd Friday]

National Woman’s Heart Day [3rd Friday]

World Porter Day [3rd Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning February 16

Girl Scout Cookie Weekend [thru 2.18]

National FFA Week [thru 2.24]

Independence & Related Days

Lithuania (from Russia & German Empire, 1918)

Sovereignty Day (Serbia)

Festivals Beginning February 16, 2024

Adelaide Fringe Festval Adelaide, South Australia) [thru 3.17]

Babcock Ranch Seafood & Music Festival (Punta Gorda, Florida) [thru 2.18]

Carnevale di Venezia (Venice, Italy) [thru 3.5]

Festival du Voyageur (Winnipeg, Canada) [thru 2.25]

Fiddler Crab Festival (Steinhatchee, Florida) [thru 2.18]

Great Backyard Bird Count [thru 2.19]

Inter Varsity Folk Dance Festival (York, UK) [thru 2.18]

New Zealand Fringe Festival (Wellington, New Zealand) [thru 3.9]

Philippine International Hot Air Balloon Fiesta (Capas, Philippines) [thru 2.18]

Riverside County Fair & National Date Festival (Indio, California) [thru 2.25]

WBCA Jalapeño Festival (Lardeo, Texas)

Wine & Chowder Trails (Florence, Oregon) [thru 2.18]

Feast Days

Abda of Edessa (Christian; Saint)

Armand Guillaumin (Artology)

Bonten Matsuri festival begins (Asking for Good Crops; Japan)

Charles Todd Quintard (Episcopal Church (USA))

Cremation Wednesday (Church of the SubGenius)

Devil’s Dance (Everyday Wicca)

Elias, Jeremy, Isaias, Samuel, and Daniel (Christian; Egyptian Martyrs)

Friday after Shrove Tuesday (Western Christianity) [44 Days before Easter (a.k.a. ...

Friday Fish Fry Day (Midwest US)

National Tartar Sauce Day

Kissing Friday

Nippy Hug Day (Westmoreland, UK)

Gilbert of Sempringham (Christian; Saint)

Gregory X, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Guru Ravidas Jayanti (a.k.a. Magha Purinma; Parts of India)

Hash Wednesday (Church of the SubGenius)

Iace (a.k.a. Tatto) of Scotland (Christian; Saint)

Iain Bank (Writerism)

Juliana of Nicomedia (Catholic Church; Virgin & Martyr)

Juvenal (Positivist; Saint)

Kanō Eitoku (Artology)

Michelangelo Cerquozzi (Artology)

Onesimus (Christian; Saint)

Platypus Pondering Day (Pastafarian)

Respectable Tales of Kelp-Koli (Shamanism) [5 Minutes]

Richard Ford (Writerism)

Secret Patience Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Three Good Deaths Day [Salmon, Pigs, Robbers] (Celtic Book of Days)

Vasant Panchami (a.k.a. Saraswati Puja; Celebrating harvest goddess Saraswati; Hindu)

Victoria — Nike’s Day (Pagan)

Warren Ellis (Writerism)

Zowie-Zown the Upside-Down Clown (Muppetism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 47 [15 of 72]

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

Ants in Your Pantry (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1945)

Black Panther (Film; 2018)

The Bostonians, by Henry James (Novel; 1885)

Bridge to Tarabithia (Film; 2007)

Bringing Up Baby (Film; 1938)

Carousel (Film; 1956)

Cher (TV Series; 1975)

Down to Earth (Film; 2001)

The Duck Doctor (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1952)

Early Man (Animated Film; 2018)

Factory Girl (Film; 2007)

Fit to be Toyed (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1959)

Ghost Rider (Film; 2007)

Gift Wrapped (WB LT Cartoon; 1952)

Happy Gilmore (Film; 1996)

Jersey Bounce, by Shep Fields and His Orchestra (Song; 1942)

Let’s You and Him Fight (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1934)

The Little Red Hen (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1934)

The Mad Hatter (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1948)

The Man Who Folded Himself, by David Gerrold (Novel; 1973)

Muppet Treasure Island (Film; 1996)

My Mom’s Having a Baby (DePatie-Freleng Animated TV Special; 1977)

The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace, by Christopher Short (Novel; 1976) [Saint #46]

Scooby-Doo! Abracadabra-Doo (WB Animated Film; 2010)

Sexual Politics, by Kate Millett (Political Theory; 1970)

Spanish Harlem, recorded by Aretha Franklin (Song; 1971)

Sweet November (Film; 2001)

Time Regained, by Marcel Proust (Novel; 1927)

The Venture Bros. (Animated TV Series; 2003)

Werther, by Jules Massenet (Opera; 1892)

When the Cat’s Away (Happy Harmonies Cartoon; 1935)

The Witches (Film; 1990)

Today’s Name Days

Adalbert, Juliana, Liane, Philippa (Austria)

Julijana, Miljenko, Samuel (Croatia)

Ljuba (Czech Republic)

Juliane (Denmark)

Alda, Aldi, Miralda, Miranda, Valda, Velda (Estonia)

Kai (Finland)

Julienne, Lucile, Onésime (France)

Juliana, Liane (Germany)

Pamfillie, Pamfillos, Sele (Greece)

Julianna, Lilla (Hungary)

Faustino, Giorgia, Giovita, Sigfrido (Italy)

Aloizs, Alvils, Olafs, Olavs, Ulafs (Latvia)

Girdenė, Girdenis, Jovita, Jurgita, Vytis (Lithuania)

Sigbjørn, Sigfred (Norway)

Faustyn, Georgia, Georgina, Jordan, Jowita, Józef, Klaudiusz, Przybyrad, Sewer (Poland)

Onisim (Romania)

Pravoslav (Slovakia)

Claudio, Faustino (Spain)

Sigfrid (Sweden)

Georgette, Georgia, Georgina, Jovan, Jovita, Siegfried, Sigrid, Sue, Susan, Susana, Susanna, Susie, Suzanne (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 47 of 2024; 319 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 7 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 27 of 28]

Chinese: Month 1 (Bing-Yin), Day 7 ()

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025)

Hebrew: 7 Adair I 5784

Islamic: 6 Sha’ban 1445

J Cal: 17 Grey; Threesday [17 of 30]

Julian: 3 February 2024

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 19 Homer (2nd Month) [Juvenal]

Runic Half Month: Sigel (Sun) [Day 8 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 58 of 89)

Week: 2nd Week of February

Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 26 of 28)

#Holidays

0 notes

willowskylor · 5 years ago

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My mood tonight, Hollywood Starlet. I love bumper bangs because they are simple to do, and so fun to wear. And at the end you get this fun curl to your hair that becomes your sultry evening look. #pinup #pinuphair #pinupstyle #bumperbangs (at Winnipeg, Manitoba) https://www.instagram.com/p/B7ch2CHAgFH/?igshid=1t2hn2fw76f55

#pinup #pinuphair #pinupstyle #bumperbangs

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coffeelouis · 6 years ago

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i don’t really have much of an intro this month! here’s what i read!

streetwise hercules by @bottomlinsons “I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”

Right.

This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry’s boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

On the edge of the next nine years by @forreveries

“It just hit me,” Harry continued, putting down his phone so he could wring the nerves out of his fingers, shake them too, “This is actually happening.” “Nine years in the making.” “Nine years. Shit,” Harry repeated, as though it was the first time he was hearing this. As though they hadn’t been talking about this moment for the past year, hadn’t been planning it for just that long too, “What if-” “Love,” Louis cut him off. There was no room for what ifs anymore. They’d been told their whole careers to be scared of those words, that if something went wrong - came out - it’d be the end of them. And they’d had nine entire years to learn that those what ifs weren’t worth it.

In which Harry and Louis come out at the Met Gala.

Gold Running Through My Veins by @hazzayoudoing

Harry can’t help himself when he leers. No one ever said you had to be unaffected by your own teammate’s body. Louis has a great one. He’s compact with muscle, curves in places Harry could only dream to touch one day. They hate each other, on the surface. It’s always been this way. Some ribbing here, some eyebrow raises there. But Harry would be lying if he was forced to admit he’s never thought of Louis in a different way.

“Take a picture, Styles. It’ll last longer,” Louis says as he ambles past with Zayn. His board shorts brush Harry’s shoulder, water droplets cool to the touch.

“Fuck off,” Harry responds. He’s got his part to play.

Or, an Olympic gymnastics AU that finds sworn enemies Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson on the same Olympic team, battling it out for gold medals in Belgium while they fall, quite stubbornly, in love. Featuring a steamy striptease in an empty gym, Harry canoodling with a gymnast from another country, a bit of sight-seeing in gorgeous Belgium and some really delicious waffles.

Make a Dime Go One Hundred by @screwstyles “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.

“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”

Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.

blend into my favourite colour by @rainbowninja

Harry often wonders if they’ll ever meet in real life. And if Harry will recognize Tommo the instant they see each other, like somehow their souls will just know. Or maybe Harry’s soul is shouting “Louis!” too loudly for any other signals to go through.

Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can’t figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

One Week, Eight Hours by @daggerinrose

Louis doesn’t have a reason to hate Harry Styles (which, to be fair, is a reason of its own.)

or: a production assistant with no experience in front of a camera interviews a rockstar with old shoes and a distasteful attitude.

⭐ Emperor’s New Clothes by sunsetmog

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

The Red Coat by @larrymylove

In which Harry wears a red coat, Louis is a little shit, and Harry has plans for him when he gets home.

I’m Not Over You (But I’m Trying) by @greeneyedlarrie

Louis’ House of Solo photoshoot drops, and Harry forgets how to forget about boys.

We’re Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry–”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

plus i reread some fics!

feel so foolish by @juliusschmidt

Louis and his friends keep laughing at Harry; he’s sure of it. But he’s not sure why.

deleted your number (so i can’t call you) by @tofiveohfive

Harry wakes up to a voicemail.

It’s Saturday morning and it’s raining, a barely there drizzle. He sees the notification as soon as he picks up his phone from the bedside table, bleary eyes making it hard to distinguish the words. He’s got a few instagram mentions, a couple unread texts, but what really stands out is the “Missed Call and Voicemail”.

From Louis.

Or the ten hours before Harry comes home to Louis, and the five hours after he does.

and finally! a drarry one. that i cheated and listened to a podfic of but it’s so good im gonna rec it anyway!!!

it doesn’t really have a description, or an author, or a link… huh, this worked out weird. anyway, you can find the podfic here or a pdf compiling all the fics by this author here (in a dropbox link.) maya went pro like 10-11 years ago (this fic was started BEFORE deathly hallows came out! there’s some things that are Wrong because the books weren’t OVer! how wild is that?!) and deleted everything, so there’s really just these little things floating around the internet now. which is also why it doesn’t have a summary but the summary is basically just that harry is a veela and attracts everyone to him, except for the one person he wants to attract, which is DRACO his best friend and auror partner whom he has PINED FOR for YEARS but is an oblivious walnut! ugh it’s just the best… so much good pining but self-aware harry, which is such a rare treat.

and a check, please! one! (#wild)

one day (we’ll get this right) by onawingandaswear

Fifteen years ago, Jack was traded to Winnipeg for a first round draft pick; a move that cost him far more than the ‘A’ on his sweater when the distance proved too much for his partner to handle.

Now, Jack is two years into his new job as the Schooner’s Assistant General Manager when a chance encounter offers Jack a chance to rebuild the life he was always meant to have with Eric Bittle.

Prompt: Jack and Bitty were never quite able to make a relationship work. They reconnect in their 40s.

anyway, i’ll stop rambling now. hope you had a nice may!

#mine #brookes fic recs #fic rec

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gordyscamerastraps · 6 years ago

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Shervin S. Winnipeg, Canada Fujiflim X-T2

Neck strap, horizontal Black leather, Dark red wrapping cord Neck pad: Black leather Integral strap bumpers: Black leather

#Fujiflim X-T2 #camera #gordy'scamerastraps #custom #camerastrap #integralstrapbumpers #neckstraphorizontal

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cellythefloshie · 10 months ago

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;; Baggage Chapter Two of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Chapter One «« 🤍 »» Chapter Three

Summary: Andrei arrives in Winnipeg for what he intends to be a summer of training. That is until he finds himself distracted by the girl next door, Harper. TW: No triggers apply. Word Count: 4k+

This chapter to be read in conjecture with @hockeyboysimagines I Loved You Three Summers Chapter One.

Winnipeg, Manitoba, was one of seven Canadian cities that an NHL team called home. Many players formed their opinions about the city: it was too cold, the hotels and accommodations were often less than satisfactory, and the city was too boring with little to do outside hangout with your teammates in the hotel room or at dinner. And after only a few years in the NHL, Andrei knew that all to be true. The winters were cold. The waters at the hotel had run cold. If it hadn’t been for his brother playing for the Winnipeg Jets, there would have been nothing for him to do during their one-night stay during the regular season. But in the summer, Winnipeg seemed different.

The golden glow of a golden hour that he had seen as the place descended over acres of farmer’s fields that building by building became the small city still lingered as he loaded one back, and then the next into the trunk of the taxi that was waiting for them at the airport. Andrei followed Seth’s lead, climbing into the back of the cab and watching as the city evolved around him on their way to Seth’s childhood home on the opposite side of the city.

The airport became factories, factories became shopping centers and apartment buildings that grew in height until they were towering office buildings in the heart of downtown. Hiding between it was, was the arena he had played in, and then it was all left behind as they were driven to the communities on the south side of the city.

The houses there were stout, humble, and not quite new enough that one was a carbon copy of the next. Each house had character, with sprawling yards in the front, and Andrei was sure more in the back. It was the kind of neighborhood that kids played street hockey in, and mothers grouped together in walking groups with their dogs and babies before going back to the porches for a glass of wine while husbands cooked on the barbeque. The thought made him smile, even if just a little. It wasn’t home, and it was only temporary, but it would do.

“That’s it, on the left,” Seth pointed out the window towards one of the larger homes on the street, one with two stories and a long driveway that sat side by side with their neighbors. Two vehicles sat fender to bumper, rusty and in desperate need of a replacement, but his eyes only lingered there for a moment as he got out of the car and rounded to the trunk to grab his bags.

Andrei was much more interested in what was going on next door. Crammed into the narrow driveway was not one white Jeep Wrangler, but two, and they were both blocked in the driveway by a large U-Haul box truck. Its large frame blocked out the hot, setting sun, but the shadows of the two young women that stood at the back of the truck still stretched across the pavement. Both blonde, and both pretty, they seemed to be conversing there as they unloaded the boxes - the taller pointing into the back of the truck while the shorter was gathering something - a box - from inside. The pair exchanged the box, and it gave Andrei a good enough look at them to conclude one thing: they were sisters. They had to be. They looked too alike not to be.

Before he could ask Seth about them, the taxi door was slamming, sending his gaze snapping back towards the road before a cheery shout of, “Seth’s home!” had his neck snapping back to the truck, but now, the taller of the blonde’s stood alone, with the smaller nowhere to be seen. Putting the box down at her feet, she jogged down the driveway - her blonde ponytail swaying back and forth against her shoulders with each stride - and she didn’t stop until her arms were thrown around Seth’s shoulders.

And Andrei just stood there, one bag held in his fist while the other sat on the ground at his own feet, and he watched them. At first, if only because of the smile Seth wore as he welcomed her close, Andrei thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a girl Seth had used to date, or at the very least hook up with. But they hugged and spoke like family.

“Look at you, mister NHL superstar,” her tone was teasing as she drew back, a bit of a hop in her step as she sunk her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

“Hardly,” Seth laughed, a single hand reaching up to push through the tangles of his dark hair. He was grinning, but his shoulders slouched - a little embarrassed, maybe. “Where’s Maddie?”

“Uh?” the blonde hummed, her body turning to look back towards the U-Haul and the front door. “I don’t know. She was just right here.”

Andrei’s eyes fixated on her mouth as she spoke, her lips full and caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, as if each corner would downturn the moment he looked away. He shouldn’t have starred, but he was captivated by the complexity of her expression. Her smile spread so widely into the fullness of her cheeks, but there was no light in her eyes. Only a heaviness in the hazel hue that had Andrei’s shoulder slouching and neck craning forward as if he could get a better look at them. As if he were imagining the storm in her eyes that clouded over the radiance of her smile.

“Ah,” her smile altered, her nose wrinkling as she took a step back, “who’s this?”

Seth brought an arm around, his hand patting up against Andrei’s back firmly as he made the introduction, “my teammate Andrei, he’s going to be staying with me for the summer.”

“Lucky him,” there was an uncertainty in her tone, her eyes looking him up and down once and stopped once their eyes met again.

“Luckier now,” Andrei spoke after a moment, a hand reaching out into the space between them. He had a tightness in her stomach, one he couldn't shake. He had made her uncomfortable with the staring, he knew it, but he couldn’t look away, not as Seth gave him a nudge and questioned him silently with a thick raised brown. “Seth didn’t mention having a sister-”

“No, no, not my sister,” Seth spoke quickly, raising his hands, almost as if the mere idea offended him, “Harper and Maddie grew up next door. She was my babysitter.”

“I don’t believe it, you look so young” Andrei grinned wide, his words laced with a low laugh.

“Babysitter, not his mother. I’m not ancient,” Harper countered, her hand reaching out to shake his hand as it waited for her to hold between them.

Her delicate fingers slid along his, meeting calloused palms and his careful but firm hold. Her touch left him holding his breath, hiding the excitement that sent his heart racing in the depths of his chest behind a calm smile. Andrei shook her hand long and slow, the thought of letting go not once crossing his mind until she leaned him, offered a soft smile and spoke, “you think I could get my hand back now?”

“Yes,” Andrei’s eyes went wide, his hand letting go of Harper’s as if it were now suddenly as hot as flame. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she spoke, taking a step back, her first step of her accent up the driveway, “I’ll ah-” she hummed, her hand reaching up to rub the back of her neck, and Andrei watched it all still staring, shameless, “I’m going to go check on Maddie, let her know that you’re home. I’m sure she just ran inside to get something-”

Andrei’s eye didn’t leave her once as she stumbled back over her sneakers towards her front door. And he smiled a dopey grin as he took in the full sight of her. Harper wasn’t just a pretty face. She was petite and lean, but not in a fragile, feminine way. Harper was strong. He could see it in her muscles as she picked up the box she had abandoned in the driveway, and in the hop in her step as she jogged towards the house. Then she was gone, lost beyond what waited for her beyond the front door. It was then, with her out of sight, Andrei felt the force of Seth’s hand knocking him against his chest.

“What was that man?” Seth was grinning as he reached down to grab his own bags and began to lead the way to his own front door.

“She is very pretty,” Andrei smiled, following in his path, all the while looking back towards the door of Harper’s house.

“Yeah, well,” Seth pushed open the door, his own words interrupting their conversation as he shouted out, “Mom, Dad? We’re home!”

Seth kicked his shoes off in the doorway, nudging them to the side with the toes of his dirty socks. Andrei did the same, tucking his sneakers to the side on a free space on a cluttered shoe rack before taking quick strides to catch up to Seth who was leading the way to the quest room that Andrei would be calling home until they went back to Carolina in September.

It was small, with nothing more than a queen sized bed and a dresser for him to pack away his things. It wasn’t much, but it would do - especially with a distraction like Harper next door. He wouldn’t need much else.

“Well?” Andrei pressed as he threw his bag down at the end of the bed, making himself at home. “Harper…”

“Last time I heard? She’s getting married in August-”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Without a hand to reach back for it, the front door slammed into its frame, leaving Harper to jump away from its firm rattle as it set her on course for her sister’s bedroom. One the way, she abandons what she considered the final box of her moving trip at the top of the basement stairs, and she doesn’t waste her time taking off her shoes - not when she will still need to run boxes to the storage locker she was renting on the outskirts of the city. But first, she needed answers.

Taking the stairs going up two at a time, Harper hopped onto the landing and called out to her little sister, “Mads?”

She paused, waiting for her to call back to her. Madison said nothing.

Brows furrowing, she craned her neck to peer through the door that was left open just a crack. Anyone else would have considered it closed, but to Harper, it was an invitation to let herself inside. Looking one way, Harper looked over an unmade empty bed, and looking at the other, she found her sister seated at her desk, one leg brought up to hug it against her chest, while she appeared occupied. But Harper knew her better than that. Madison was just trying to look busy.

Harper sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest, her lead leaning to rest against the door frame. If their father was home, she would have walked right in and closed the door, but it was just them in the house and he wouldn’t be back until the early hours in the morning. They would have more than enough time to talk; “What was that all about?”

“What?” Madison didn’t look up from her desk, instead she reached out for something Harper couldn’t quite see, and toyed with it in her fingers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Madison,” Harper’s tone was firm, caught somewhere between concerned sibling and mother. It was one of the harsh traits and realities of growing up without their mother - and growing up the eldest of two daughters.

“Harper,” Madison countered, the smile in her voice almost enough to leave Harper groaning.

Did she really have to be so difficult? Though, was Harper really in the position to push her way back into her sister’s life? She had been living on her own since she was eighteen, and was only now moving home almost a decade later because of her own mistakes. Mistakes Madison had not one clue about. They had grown so far apart there were parts of her life Harper was sure Madison couldn’t even fathom. Maybe that fact went both ways.

“You can’t hide shit from me, you know that,” Harper reminded. Before, when she was still at home, and they were still close, they told each other everything. And even when they didn’t, they always found out. “I know something’s wrong.”

Pushing off her desk, Madison swiveled in her seat. “You always were the smart one.”

“Smart?” Harper raised a brow as she pushed up from where she propped herself against the doorway and moved to sit at the end of Madison’s bed. “Sure, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I know you, and what happened outside, that’s not normal.”

Seth and Madison, they had been inseparable since they were in diapers. There were pictures on the walls and buried deep in photo albums to prove it. Harper knew that better than anyone - hell, she was the one that was stuck babysitting them both until they were old enough to be trusted alone. Even then, her father - and Seth’s parents - often had her chaperone. She had attended too many middle school dances in her lifetime to admit and even more hockey games. But Harper would do anything or her sister - and Seth, but only if he asked nicely.

“Fine,” Madison sighed, “Can we keep this between us, though?”

Harper only nodded, scared that saying anything else would leave Madison second guessing her decision to tell her anything.

“Last summer, things got kind of…” Madison sighed, her head hanging on her shoulders and sending her long blonde bangs into her eyes. A single hand raised to fix them as she spoke. “Weird I guess? We were at this party right before he left for camp-”

Harper’s stomach sunk, her head spiraling with every worst possible outcome, and every protective instinct sent her nerves raw.

“He was with some girl. It just pissed me off, and we had a fight.”

She shouldn’t have been relieved by what she heard, but Harper was letting out a long sigh of relief all the same. Then, she sat there for a moment, her fingers picking at her own nail beds as she worried that Madison might not like the conclusion she had reached with the little detail she had offered her, “was that fight with Seth because you were jealous.”

“No,” Madison scoffed, “I was just mad he was with another girl?”

Harper’s head cocked and her eyes narrowed. “That’s what jealousy is, Mads.”

Madison blew out a breath and let her gaze fall to her feet. “Whatever, so yeah,” she spoke quickly, “I’m just not ready to see him yet.”

“Holy shit, Mads,” Harper couldn’t stop herself from letting a smile spread over her features, “are you telling me that you like Seth?”

“I think so. I mean, why else would I get upset like that if I didn’t? Right?”

“Right,” Harper nodded, “I baby sat both of you for such a long time, and I would have never guessed it’d come to that. But maybe I’m not as good of a sister as I thought I was…” There were a lot of things Harper wasn’t good at anymore. She wasn’t a good daughter, a good sister, or a friend. Most days, she wasn’t even good at being herself. “Do you think he likes you?”

Madison’s shoulder shrugged, and Harper couldn’t help but to smile. Suddenly, she felt like a teenager again. A teenager just trying to help her little sister through the mundane pressures of middle school and puberty. When the troubles were nothing more than getting a bad grade on a test, what jeans were in fashion and crushes on boys.

“Last time I checked, the answer was no,” Madison sighed, but was quick to turn the table on Harper. If there was one thing the Alexander sisters were, it was supportive of one another. “And don’t say that. You’re a great sister.”

“That was last summer. Could be different now. He’s had a whole season away, and a lot of time to think about how things ended between the two of you.”

“Maybe-”

“Talking to him might help things, or at the very least put things at ease between the two of you. And if he doesn’t know how you feel, he can’t act on any feelings he might also have. You know?” Harper smiled, but it was quick to waiver. She was the last person that should be giving any kind of relationship advice. “I’m sure you don’t want my advice, though. I’m not exactly a love expert these days.”

Madison’s frown mirrored her own, but for a different reason. “I always want your advice. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re my big sister. Don’t ever think for one second I don’t value what you say, or want your opinion.” It was the heart to heart they needed, and it was punctuation with a mischievous smile and a playful, “bitch.”

It was the very word they needed to break out into laughter. Harper lay back on her sister’s bed with open arms. She welcomed her sister from her perch on the chair, the two of them laying together in the bed for a moment as Harper stared at the ceiling. Her eyes burned with the emotional acid that were tears. Refusing to look at her own sister was the only way to keep her sister from seeing them. She had missed moments like that. She had missed what it felt like to have someone for support. Harper had missed her sister more than she had realized.

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful, Mads,” Harper did her best to keep her voice calm, “if a guy can’t see that, then he’s dumb and not worth your time. And that still applies, even if it’s Seth. The guy should know how amazing you are by now.”

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful too,” Madison reminded her, “and someday a guy will see that… Like that hottie in the driveway! WHO was that?”

Nope. Was the first thing to cross Harper’s mind at her sister’s words, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t feel beautiful, kind nor smart, or if it was that she didn’t want to talk about the very awkward encounter with Carolina Hurricanes forward, Andrei Svechnikov, in her driveway. He had stared a little too long, and maybe so had she. His voice was so deep she could feel it in her bones as he spoke, and her hand? She swore she could still feel it wrapped around hers as she flexed it even then, as it was empty.

He had left her feeling more than she had in the last month, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was she was feeling. So she settled on being confused, and not saying a damn word about it. “He’s Seth’s teammate, Andrei I think-”

Kissing her sister’s hair, Harper peeled away from the hug and began to move for the door before she could feel her sister’s pressure to divulge any further. What could she divulge? Harper didn’t actually know. Their encounter had been brief, but she had seen enough to support her sister’s question: he was very attractive, albeit young. But she wasn’t going to admit that. Not Maddie, not to anyone.

Andrei was far too young to have her thinking anything like that.

“Anyway, I have some boxes I need to unpack,” Harper hummed, her hand grasping at the door frame to whip herself from the room while calling out behind her, “and I’ll be ordering pizza for dinner. My thank you for helping my dumb as move back in!”

Then, before her sister could question her on it, Harper raced down both flights of stairs and was forced to stop in her tracks at the bottom of the second flight. What was once the basement she and her sister performed self-written plays for their father in, and also doubled as a mini-sticks rink was now a collection of piled boxes, and a new IKEA bed built and shoved awkwardly between furniture that has been around since the 90s. This would be her new bedroom. There was still much more to be done. Table to move, her boxes to unpack, and sheets to wash. It all seemed like too much, it all an overwhelming, suffocating feeling on her chest as Harper stood there surrounded by it all.

Her palms began to sweat, and a hand raised up to pull at the collar of her shirt that was nowhere near her neck. It was the new beginning she needed, even though she hated that it had to come at the ripe age of twenty-seven. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be, living in her father’s basement, but it was where she needed to be.

Harper had accepted that.

But Darren hadn’t.

Her phone vibrated in the tight pocket of her rights. It had been buzzing on and off throughout the evening as she had unpacked the U-Haul, but it was only as she stood surrounded by the mess that was her life that Harper had the time to answer it. Even then, she almost didn’t when she was her ex’s name on the call display, but she wanted to give him the closer he seemed to so desperately need.

“Hey,” her voice croaked, “what’s up?”

“I just got in. You left your keys on the counter? And I can’t find the-”

Harper’s eyes shut tight, a single hand raising up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. Darren knew this was happening. She didn’t know why he pretended he didn’t. It was only going to make it more difficult for the both of them.

“I moved out the rest of my stuff today, Darren.” Harper did her best to keep her voice firm. They were over. That needed to be clear.

“Harp-”

“Don’t!” Her grasp tightened around her phone, her heart racing in her chest, and her stomach on the verge of lurching. At first, going back home was just to get space. Harper had spent weeks sleeping on the sofa, trying to work things out, but there was no healing for Harper. Their problems were only solved temporarily, or only seemed to exist for her, not for him. She was tired, living each day in resentment while Darren lived each day, loved and taken care of.

Harper wanted that same respect.

Darren promised it.

It never came.

“Don’t call me anymore. Goodbye, Darren.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Winnipeg was cold until it wasn’t. Even in the early days of summer, Andrei could feel it. The heavy sweat on his skin that came with the thick humidity in the air. It should have reminded him of Carolina nights, but his place back home had a temperature control that didn’t rely on an old, rickety air conditioning unit that was wedged in his window. It rattled and stalled before roaring to life again when the heat became unbearable. It left Andrei tossing and turning on what would have been a comfortable bed if it weren’t for the heat that surrounded him.

Blankets were tangled between his legs, shoved to one side of the bed and then the other before joining the pillows on the floor and leaving Andrei laying in nothing but his boxers in the bed. It wasn’t enough. He needed to cool off somehow.

Groaning, he pushed himself up from the bed and moved quietly into the kitchen. Andrei moved through the cupboards quietly. Opening one after the other until he found a glass and filled it up with tap water when he couldn’t find a pitcher in the fridge. He filled it until it overflowed, drank it dry, and filled it again. It was cold, but wasn’t cold enough. It left him cursing under his breath as he placed the glass down on the countertop. His head hung low on his shoulders, his eyes shutting for a moment as he contemplated messaging his brother to sleep on the couch in his condo for the remainder of the summer.

But when his eyes opened, they fixated on the blue bin below, and a photograph that was buried among empty beer cans and old pizza boxes. Usually he wouldn’t have looked twice, but there was one face prominent on the glossy image, the pretty neighbor, Harper.

Crouching down, Andrei pinched the picture between his fingers and pulled it from the recycling bin. He winced as the box tumbled, clamoring as they fell to the ground, but the house remained silent. He was the only one awake. Letting out a heavy sigh, Andrei stood up straight, and held the photo in the moonlight that streamed in through the kitchen window.

Harper wasn’t alone in the photo. She was embraced by a handsome, apparently older man with his hair cut short and stubble covering his jawline. In elegant cursive it read, you’re invited to the wedding of mr darren fletcher and ms harper alexander. The save the date was for the August long weekend, just under two months away - but when Andrei moved to the large calendar that Mrs. Jarvis hung up on the kitchen wall to keep track of deadlines for the school year Andrei noticed one thing: the wedding date on the calendar was scratched out.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

#andrei svechnikov #nhl fanfic #real people fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #andrei svechnikov x original character #seth jarvis #collaboration fic

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thecoloradophilshow · 2 years ago

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Today is My Casual Friday - SPECIAL all bumpers edition. My way of saying thank you to the 43 indie artists from around the world who have taken the time and energy to record and send to me! Thank you so much!!! I appreciate your support! 12/02/22 HR 3: @portobello_express @lauriebiagini @chrisghidoni 8$Rum, Abandoned Playground, @vanillabase For new music, you can check my radio show, The Colorado Phil Show Monday ~ Friday 12 to 4 PM PST, 1 to 5 PM MST, 2 to 6 CST, 3 to 7 PM EST on @trilakesradio LISTEN: streaming.live365.com/a05710 or DOWNLOAD Live365 radio app and add Tri Lakes Radio to your favorites! (at Winnipeg, Manitoba) https://www.instagram.com/p/Clrti9HvEeY/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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ilopisara · 11 months ago

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17.02. 01:20 | Ilo Pisara vs Rails of destiny 1 - 2

Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round for a tale of woe and missed opportunities. Our beloved Ilo Pisara faced off against the Rails of Destiny, only to come up short with a scoreline that reads like my last attempt at dieting: 1-2. Now, let's talk shots - or rather the lack thereof. "VETOJA HYVÄT HERRAT!" must have been lost in translation because our boys treated shooting like it was optional homework over spring break. Teppo Winnipeg showed promise; scoring our lone goal makes him less invisible than my paycheck after taxes but folks, one swallow does not a summer make! Sami Noddy blocked more shots than an overzealous nightclub bouncer – commendable yet insufficient when we're on offense. Yuri Tarde? More giveaways than Oprah on a good day - without any cars to show for it. Macho Fantastico lived up to half his name with those hits but forgot this isn't bumper cars; goals win games! And Jani Saari... well, he tried juggling the puck as if points were awarded for style. After riding high from previous victories where we were hotter than freshly microwaved lasagna (and just as messy), this game served us humble pie – cold. The future beckons with lessons learned: shoot more often or risk being dubbed 'Ilo Missed-a-lot'. Onward we skate into redemption territory!

#nhl24

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laresearchette · 2 years ago

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Wednesday, November 23, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: ECHO 3 (Apple TV +) SHAQ (HBO Canada) 9:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT COUNTDOWN TO MACY'S THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE (NBC Feed) PITCH PERFECT: BUMPER IN BERLIN (Premiering on Dec 08 on W Network at 9:00pm/ 9:30pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA GOOD NIGHT OPPY

CBC GEM PAUL O'GRADY FOR THE LOVE OF DOGS HOLIDAY SPECIAL

CRAVE TV SHAQ (Season 1, Episode 1)

DISNEY + STAR ARRANGED (Season 1) BEST IN BRIDAL (Season 1) BIG BET (Season 1) BORN THIS WAY (Season 1) BRIDE & PREJUDICE (Season 1) CELEBRITY GHOST STORIES (Seasons 5-6) DADDIES ON REQUEST (Papas Por Encargo) (Season 1 premiere) EVIL GENIUS (Season 1) THE FIRST 48 (Seasons 13-14) I WANT A BABY KOCKTAILS WITH KHLOE (Season 1) LIMBO (Season 1 Premiere) MY GHOST STORY (Season 1) REVENGE OF OTHERS

NETFLIX CANADA BLOOD, SEX & ROYALTY CHRISTMAS ON MISTLETOE FARM LESSON PLAN THE SWIMMERS TACO CHRONICLES: CROSS THE BORDER THE UNBROKEN VOICE WEDNESDAY WHO'S A GOOD BOY?

FIFA WORLD CUP SOCCER (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 4:45am: Morocco vs. Croatia (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 7:4am: Germany vs. Japan (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 10:45am: Spain vs. Costa Rica (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 1:45pm: Belgium vs. Canada (TSN2) 11:00pm: Match of the Day

NHL HOCKEY (SN1) 7:00pm: Flames vs. Penguins (SNWest) 7:00pm: Jets vs. Wild (SN) 7:00pm: Leafs vs. Devils (TSN2) 7:00pm: Habs vs. Blue Jackets (SN360) 7:30pm: Oilers vs. Islanders (SN) 10:00pm: Canucks vs. Avalanche (TSN5) 10:00pm: Sens vs. Knights

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN/TSN4) 7:30pm: Nets vs. Raptors (SN Now) 8:00pm: Bulls vs. Bucks (TSN/TSN3) 10:00pm: Clippers vs. Warriors

THE OTHER SIDE (APTN) 7:30pm: Jeff and Erin feel a sense of calmness at Seven Oaks' house in Winnipeg, Man.; their investigation begins in stillness, until the spirits reveal an alarming truth about the home's original occupants.

DOLLY PARTON'S CHRISTMAS OF MANY COLORS: CIRCLE OF LOVE (CBC) 8:00pm: Dolly Parton's (Alyvia Alyn Lind) father (Ricky Schroder) tries to raise enough money to buy his wife (Jennifer Nettles) a wedding ring, while an unexpected Christmas blizzard poses a threat to the family.

SIX DEGREES OF SANTA (City TV) 8:00pm: Believing she may be his soul mate, a leading internet entrepreneur searches for the mystery woman whose Christmas gift wound up in his hands.

SPIRIT TALKER (APTN) 8:00pm: Shawn travels to Sagamok First Nation, where he's welcomed by Chief Alan Ozawanimki and Patricia Toulouse. During the spirit readings, a father comes through for his daughter and a powerful connection is made between two brothers.

GHOST HUNTERS OF THE GRAND RIVER (APTN) 8:30pm: The ghost hunters investigate the tales of the haunted Old Niagara-on-the-Lake Courthouse, where an old judge reportedly still occupies his former office and prisoners sentenced to death have been heard claiming their innocence.

SARAH'S MOUNTAIN ESCAPE (HGTV Canada) 9:00pm

LOST TREASURES OF EGYPT (Nat Geo Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Hunting Egypt's lost treasures in the Valley of the Kings.

BLOOD IN THE SNOW FILM FESTIVAL (Super Channel Fuse) 12:00am: Residents of Arcadia: Steve and Anika live an ideal life, until a man breaks into their backyard, disrupting their peace; a countdown appears on their screens and mirrors, and as it approaches zero, the true nature of what is hiding behind their perfect lives is revealed.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #the other side #spirit talker #ghost hunters of the grand river #sarah's mountain escape #blood in the snow #fifa world cup #nhl hockey #nba basketball

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allbeendonebefore · 7 years ago

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Ref: Calgary / Calvin McCall

Cal’s comprehensive and updated bio since I keep meaning to publish it somewhere. Feel free to ask questions if there is anything you are curious about or want an explanation for.

[2015 Visual Ref Sheet Here]

Last Update: May 23, 2018.

QUICK STATS

Name: Calgary

Human Name: Calvin ‘Cal’ (Brisebois) McCall

Gender: Male

Age: 140s

Human Age: Early 20s

Birthday: November 7, 1874

Nationality: Canadian

Ethnicity: White (Scottish, English)

Language: English

Religion: N/A (Raised Methodist/Protestant)

Other: Biggest city in Alberta, 4th in Canada

PHYSICAL STUFF

Height: 6′0″ (182 cm)

Body Type: Kind of hourglassy but gangly and thin. Sharp al dente noodle limbs but soft thighs/shoulders. Strong legs from speed skating.

Hair: Blonde - more saturated/golden than dirty. More pronounced waves than Ed. Just above shoulder length, bangs just below the top of his ears. Center part. Piece of hair sticks up at the front of his bangs from the part.

Eyes: Light brown.

Skin: Whitey McWhiterson, freckles. (Tans ok in summer or burns to a crisp. Primarily Scottish. Any Blackfoot etc heritage isn’t immediately obvious on sight)

Details: Ski-jump nose.

“Default” Outfit: Salmon-pink collared shirt, red tie, dark jeans, flame cowboy boots, white cowboy hat, custom up-to-date Flames jersey (McCall, 75) on game days (or Whenever because he’s That Extra).

Everyday Clothing Style: Wild West Executive: expensive, leather, fleece, occasionally over the top and involving Cs or flames motifs. Bolo ties, belt buckles, hats, warm colours, Too Much Red. Oscillates from professional suits to mountain flannel, sometimes combines aesthetics poorly during Stampede.

Other Notes: I tend to think of him in s-curves or flame shapes- soft curve, sharp point. Pointy curved nose, pointy chin.

---

- Grew up extremely quickly relative to his neighbours, Industrial revolution kid from the age of steam. Had two major growth spurts in the 1880s-90s, and the 1960s-70s. By the end of the 19th century, he was nearly as tall as Ed. The 70s involved puberty hitting him like a sledgehammer.

- Was a cute, well groomed and pudgy kid in his first decade. Extremely embarrassed of what a well-off childhood he had and likes to pretend he was a lot more wild west than he actually was. By the Depression, it was clear that he was going to be on the thinner side as he got older.

- His hair was short and usually styled carefully prior to the 70s. It was at its longest in the 90s. No idea if the sticky up hair actually represents anything- it was originally meant to be a nod to APH America, so maybe American Hill? Haha.

- Looks kind of dumb with a beard but goes through phases where he's determined to grow one.

- No known physical scars, tattoos, or piercings. Freckles on his face, shoulders, etc.

- In remarkable shape considering how much bad food he eats and how little he exercises and goes outside in his day to day life. Prefers the gym or weekend hiking/skiing in the mountains to literally any other form of physical activity aside from skating. If it's set up as a competition or an olympic event, however, he'll give it his all.

- Has flat feet, needs insoles in his shoes. Also has really smooth and powerful elbows.

PERSONALITY

- ESTJ "The Executive". Very good at organizing people and sticking to his guns, but can also be a bit too mathematical about things at times. Stickler for planning things out and following through. Really genuinely likes talking to other people and getting to know them, really giddy when he makes it into new social circles. Strong sense of justice and morality that he doesn't like to question.

- His mood literally changes with the weather. Generally he's a bit of a genki type and a go-getter, a people person, etc, but when the chinook wind comes in he does a 180 and becomes irritable and snappy. He also has a reputation for being one of the most stressed out cities in the country (which is why he only lets totally loose 10 days a year). However, he is calm and level headed in a crisis and very dependable.

- Tends to be really hot-headed, easily goaded, and a jealous type. A bit of a crybaby as well who needs extra reassurance, but always feels better afterwards. Also has TERRIBLE road rage.

- Basically thinks of himself as the main character in a national and at times even continental drama, pre-destined to be Amazing from birth. It's not exactly that he displays himself as egotistical, he just thinks he's worked really hard and deserves every good thing that comes his way. He just knew he was going to be a big city since he was a kid. Classic small town boy turned entitled white collar white boy who isn't exactly aware of how much has been handed to him, but doesn't mean harm by it.

- Has a carefully cultivated image and really concentrates on making good first impressions, but also is a very straightforward person. What you see is generally what you get with him, and he really wears his heart on his sleeve. Really doesn't appreciate people who are manipulative or don't say what they mean, but also the sort of person who doesn't want to show all his cards when he is making a bargain.

- Even though he was raised by penny-pinching Scotsmen and waxes poetic about fiscal conservatism, he's Extremely irresponsible with his money. You know how NHL players go grocery shopping on video for laughs because they have no idea how to budget or what to buy? He's like that. The sort of person who says "I spent THIS MUCH" where Ed is "I ONLY spent THIS MUCH!"

- Despite his image of being reckless and thoughtless, he puts a lot of work in when it matters and gets easily emotionally invested in projects and people. He's mostly reckless and thoughtless when it comes to himself, so while he looks quite established and firm he's still crumbling a bit on the inside from overwork and stress.

- Still does his best to project his relaxed and folksy small town side and knows that this makes people underestimate him to their disadvantage. Less embarrassed about his redneck character and more irritated that he's so easily brushed off by others because of his perceived social class.

- The heart of the tension between fiscal conservatism and social progressivism. Really traditional romantic white picket fence guy, but also someone who is really interested in change and new innovations.

- Has a lot of issues with his personal identity which he pretends is not based on tenuous stereotypes, constantly trying to figure out who he is and really plays up the cowboy identity to hide his lack of certainty and to have something constant to hold onto.

- Was the absolute Worst kid in school, really doesn't like doing what he is told and has no patience for academia. Math is the only discipline that makes sense to him (and even then he doesn't really think critically about math as a concept).

- Is extremely neat and organized. He doesn't mind getting dirty as long as he's squeaky clean immediately after.

RELATIONSHIPS

- His 'family' includes southern Alberta, that is, the former District of Alberta territory which more or less includes those on Treaty 7 territory (Lethbridge, Medicine Hat, Red Deer, etc). Also has a close relationship to those he shares a river with (Banff, Canmore, etc.) Lately however, the other municipalities have felt him growing distant and unfamiliar as he navigates not only being the biggest city in the province but one of the biggest cities nationally as well. Still largely the center of Albertan culture, tourism, and stereotypes in spite of this.

- Close to the municipalities who have since amalgamated, particularly Bowness [Caroline] who he visited frequently in his youth to ignore his problems and play with. They moved in together in the 60s. If he had a 2p, it would likely be Cochrane. Also close to Fort Macleod, who is like his older brother and fellow NWMP fort.

- Didn't really feel a strong kinship with the other western cities in his youth and still is on good and friendly terms if awkward around them. He and Regina would have shared NWMP history, and he tried to take the younger Saskatoon under his wing for all of two seconds before his apprentice surpassed him. Cal tends to have closer relationships with American cities (particularly in Colorado, Texas, Illinois, Montana, Wyoming, Arizona etc.) than he does with cities in the other prairie provinces.

- Set his sights on Chicago before Winnipeg, but still maintains an admiration of Toronto and Montreal from a young age despite their complicated relationship. He and Vancouver are relatively close in age and the coast remains Cal's favourite vacation spot. Cal tries to hide his jealousy by being a bit overly friendly with him, but figures it's something that the rather isolated Van Man appreciates. Overall, he is EXTREMELY desperate to make the Big Three into the Elite Four, but has difficulty reading the atmosphere when it comes to them because he's a bit blinded by his ambition to get closer than a simple orbit. On the other hand, he's also the guy with the Let Those Eastern Bastards Freeze in the Dark bumper sticker and the Big Shots can really get on his nerves.

- Ed remains Cal's worst enemy and also his most steadfast friend. Cal has known him his entire life and can't imagine how difficult it would be to define himself without him, and the two have been known to wreak havoc fighting each other and bring the house down when they are working together. Cal often pretends that such a backwater and isolated city isn't enough to catch his attention, but Ed is probably the first thing keeping Cal from looking more nationally and more internationally outwards as he is the easier to provoke of the two by a narrow margin. The obsession with the other is completely mutual and very little of it is genuine hatred despite Calvin's easily produced list of victories and Ed's lower self esteem and reputation.

HOBBIES AND INTERESTS

- Despite not exercising enough, he loves all winter sports and hockey and speed skating in particular. In his youth, he played polo and croquet often. Always looking for ways to make these games either more extreme and full of stupid stunts or more silly (like human curling). Other outdoor sports he enjoys are quadding and dirt biking. Do Not mention the 1988 Winter Olympics because he will Not stop talking about them.

- Also super fond of horseback riding. And horses in general. And images of horses. And sculptures of horses. And carousels. Is really gutted that he can't keep a horse or a cow at home, so he goes out to Caro's or Bert's ranch when he wants to spend quality time with the animals. Animals are a sure fire way of calming him down. On a related note, he knows how to ride both Western and English style.

- Really into arts and music in particular, but has no sense of social class or refined taste. Really leans into the 'fake it til you make it' philosophy but also brutally honest about things he finds overrated. Likes paintings of dramatic mountain ranges and wild horses the most and has been known to try his hand at it once in a while. Also can play guitar and probably every marching band instrument. Fear the day he picks up bagpiping.

- Loves travelling when he can, not just for business deals. Owns a vacation home in Phoenix, Arizona, (a sister city) probably; also frequents Vegas and Mexico. Banff is a weekly destination for him.

- Learned the art of BBQ from the Americans. He is the Token Grill Dad. Come to think of it, he also loves golf and probably wearing socks and sandals too. Will absolutely judge a restaurant by the quality of the steak (and the person taking him to said restaurant too). His other favourite foods are ginger beef and prairie oysters. Apart from that, his taste in food is like giving an 8 year old unlimited access to a kitchen - 'let's deep fry a cockroach and cover it in powdered sugar and chocolate syrup, that will be great!!' 'What if we put clamato juice and vodka together?!'.

- Like Ed, also really fond of planes, trains, and automobiles. Unlike Ed, he can't stand cyclists and will choose a truck over a bike any day of the week. The newer, shinier and more features, the better.

- Loves anything involving betting and gambling, particularly against Ed. Tries to disguise his love of gambling with fancy adult words like 'real estate' and 'stocks' or whatever. It's probably his oldest and worst addiction. Also loves fairgrounds and carnival games even though they're rigged.

- Drinks a lot. Buys a lot of expensive whiskey and keeps a liquor cabinet in his office. It's his only other major vice- he really can't stand smoking and will get annoyed at people who do it near him.

- His hockey passion is still very strong, but he finds it less exciting when there's not a good rivalry and still has less going for him than Ed historically. Also really jealous of Ed's big dumb new arena for some stupid reason. Also a big fan of football. Wears his Flames jersey and puts flames motifs on everything a little too much.

- Loves fire in general, whether on the grill, a campfire, a romantic fireplace, or a Sunday drive out to Turner Valley to watch gas get lit on fire. It's only a little worrisome.

- Has a lot of hobbies to cope with stress. Knitting is one of them. Exercise is another, if less used. Also doodles cartoons on his notes during meetings.

HISTORICAL STUFF

- Was 'born' or 'found' on the south side of the Bow River, near the confluence of the Elbow.

- Founded deep in Blackfoot Territory as a North West Mounted Police fort to stop American whiskey runners. Had quite a spoiled and sheltered childhood. Most of the "Wild West" era was already over by the time he was growing up, and the buffalo were already driven to near extinction.

- He comes from a very WASPy background, maybe knew some Gaelic back in the day and definitely had a good deal of exposure to Spanish from a young age. His German and Scandinavian languages are rather good and he's progressing pretty well with Mandarin and so on. He particularly struggles with French and indigenous languages. Cannot learn languages well in classroom settings and especially not when they're mandatory, just has to go out and speak it or listen on the radio at the very least.

- Was raised Methodist/Protestant but is relatively secular lately. Even so, listening to Bible Bill on the radio was his favourite activity during the Depression and it's stuck with him quite strongly. Religion has simply been replaced with the economy.

- Relative to Ed he is a bit more distant from his First Nations roots, having lived through the enforcement of segregation and the development of the reserve system during his childhood, but despite his awkwardness he is working to finally begin his own path to Reconciliation.

- Has always been traditionally right-wing, but also complicit in the inventions of many radical parties including Social Credit and the CCF (now NDP). He has developed a bit of a liberal heart lately compared to some of his neighbours.

- The 1980s was his "traumatic" decade, but his solution to any traumatic decade is to throw huge parties and spend money he doesn't have to pretend like it wasn't happening. Lost a lot of his strength early in the decade and became extremely resentful of the federal government, a resentment that had been percolating since Confederation.

- Historical roles include: the first incorporated city in the NWT, a center of Treaty 7 territory and the district of Alberta, training ground for pilots during the World Wars, heart of ranch land, the O&G industry, and the home of many business headquarters.

POSSESSIONS ETC.

- Lived in a sandstone house in his youth, recently bought a luxury penthouse overlooking the Saddledome and the Calgary tower, a short walk from Olympic Plaza. All leather/cowprint/wood furniture, bronze western sculptures, giant paintings of rocky mountain sky. Spends way more money to look rustic than necessary.

- His truck is red (to make it go faster), needs a step to get into, has Flames decals and flags and junk, and gets a lot of use to prove that he actually needs it (he doesn't). God, so much Flames and Stamps stuff.

- Got a business degree when they were super easy to get because why not, now boasts a lot about how it's such a commodity and he's a risk taker and blah blah blah to justify being a monkey of average intelligence who wears a suit. He's That Guy™ in all your Econ classes.

- Probably has a model trainset somewhere that he never lets Ed touch (at least not without meeting very specific criteria).

- A lasso. No reason. Just in case, you know?

- Probably has a hunting rifle that he's fully licensed to use, he just hates using it and keeps it on a wall for decoration because thinking about using it for hunting makes him cry (the other munis make fun of him a lot). Will shoot at targets or bottles, anything but animals.

- Has a chestnut coloured horse named Nellie- she either lives with Caro or with Bert. Has had Several horses over his lifetime and probably thousands of cows.

- Has. So Many. Boots. And Belt Buckles. And All That. You have No Idea. He has a separate walk in closet specifically for Stampede, probably.

- A Calgary White Hat, obviously, just for being him.

- Has a picture of himself as a kid riding a mountain goat. In the museum. No one can know.

OTHER STUFF

- Like Ed, spends the majority of his time working for the city. He suffers a lot when trying to please all the billionaires who keep trying to influence him (Ed on the other hand only has like one).

- Has some experience in trades, probably, but his history is in law enforcement and crunching numbers, cozying up to investors, lots of wining and dining, that sort of thing. He is the sheriff of his boardroom. Loves making slideshows.

- His middle name is Brisebois and he shrieks if you bring that up. Mac calls him Brisy to tease him.

- Prior to working for the city, he "worked" at Cochrane ranch. By "worked" I mean he "supervised" Bert and the gang of Americans and company that showed up on his doorstep; by "supervised" I mean he nearly missed tea time because he was busy learning gross habits from cowboys and drinking coffee with them and getting himself in trouble.

- Bisexual/Biromantic, attracted to both men and women with a preference for women, but his preference doesn't dictate who gets the high beams of his intense love-rays.

- Does not smoke tobacco, but will chew it on occasion (but he hates what it does to his teeth and prefers drinking).

- Has a relatively flat Americanized accent, says "yahoo!" constantly, and when he's out with his buds he just speaks like the guys from On the Bench. Uses increasingly dated/silly western slang (Well if That don’t take the rag off the bush!) when he’s annoyed with people or wants to give them a friendly tease.

- Suffers from migraines that are definitely caused by weather most of the time. He's still trying to learn how to recognize the signs in advance, but often wakes up with them.

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