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nickmaghighlights · 2 years ago

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Nick Mag Highlights - #43 August 1998

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming! Spring is in the air, but can’t it just be summer already? Let’s get a head start by checking out Issue #43 from August, 1998.

First let me say, I love this cover! It really surprises me that they didn’t feature more Nicktoons crossovers for cover art, it’s a fun idea. Dare I say it might be the only Nickelodeon Magazine cover featuring a crossover between different Nick shows? With original art, I mean. (The Jimmy-Timmy Power Hour and its sequels got their own dedicated issue covers but that's different, it doesn't count.)

Before we begin, just letting you know you can read the magazine along with me here.

Well, can you find which flavors are fake and which are real?

Yep, the ones that sound fake… are fake!

It’s a bit obvious isn’t it? If Gatorade had played their cards right they could have tripped everyone up and taken this as an opportunity to announce a new “Trout” flavor. Missed opportunity indeed.

I’d say we’ve got the makings of another winner issue here. There’s nothing like the excitement of an impending summer vacation! Although, if you were alive when this magazine was released, chances are summer vacation stopped being a thing for you a while ago. But hey, I say you're never too old to have fun! So grab your sunscreen, beach towels, and feel free to take any notes for when you’re making your summer plans. Let’s dive in!

A three foot long poster? Well I’ll be, I’m surprised there’s any space left in the box to fit the cereal!

Little history lesson here for those unfamiliar: If you check the bottom right of the page, you’ll find mention of nickelOzone. nickelOzone was a short-lived hour-long programming block that ran on Nickelodeon from 1998 to 2000. Suppose this little cereal stunt was a means of promoting their new block? That might be even easier to figure out than the Gatorade puzzle.

Online sources say that nickelOzone played from Sunday to Friday (sorry, Saturday fans) from 8 PM to 9 PM, and was aimed towards an older, preteen audience. I’m not really sure about that though, since it seemed to just play shows from Nick’s usual lineup anyway, like Hey Arnold! for example.

Maybe checking out the bumper that would play to start off the block will shed some light on things.

youtube

… Nope, guess not.

Also no, I'm not going to say anything about the three-legged freak boy in the ad. Stop asking.

Gotta say, they’re already really selling me on the summer vibes. I appreciate using stuff like kayaking and carnivals to represent summer fun as opposed to the usual beach iconography. I don’t appreciate the closeup dog mouth picture as much.

That one question about the interviews Nick Magazine conducts is a bit interesting though, because I’ve also wondered how they get all their short responses, like for these kinds of sections:

Kudos to R.L. Stine for looking exactly like you expect he would.

Did they just send out questions en masse via email or letters, and publish whatever responses they got in time? I wonder if some of the actors’ agents or PR people ever answered on behalf of their client with on-brand responses because the actors themselves were busy. I know they’re just one or two sentences, but I wouldn’t be surprised if big actors have people to take care of little promotional stuff like this, even if they’re about answering personal questions. What do you think?

Alright, here’s a better question: Am I overthinking this?

I would really love to speak to someone who won or went to the same school as someone who won one of these kinds of giveaways. Y’know, one of these types where you win a party for your class or have a popular band come and do a concert in the gymnasium. That kind of thing. I wonder how they go about planning and executing that sort of operation. What if the school just says no? Maybe they just dump the prizes at your house.

I can’t say I expected something quite so pleasant out of a Nickelodeon Magazine, but I like it! I’d also like to give some appreciation to the late Joan Steiner and her series of Look-Alikes books for giving me my next aesthetic to obsess over. Oh, to be a little guy living in a world made of snacks and knick-knacks without a care in the world…

If you find the world of Look-Alikes as lovely as I do and want to see more, you can borrow it from the Internet Archive.

Now even if it is just a s’more turned green, this still is a cute way to personalize a famous summer snack. I mean, just take a look at these satisfied customers!

(Ask your doctor if you think soggy green marshmallows are the right choice for your summer camping trips.)

Some of you might be familiar with this ad’s TV commercial counterpart, but Nick Mag readers were also obliged to find Banjo-Kazooie’s magic puzzle piece hiding in their grocery store’s usual Keebler goods. I find the choice to portray Banjo & Kazooie as mute, 3D freaks in a 2D world a little odd. Did they think kids wouldn’t understand the game was 3D if Banjo was illustrated, or something?

If you were even thinking about becoming your school’s #1 cool kid, you better do your research in amassing the components necessary to complete the Rugrats style. This is so crucial, Nickelodeon was even kind enough to give 500 kids the chance to snag chic baby merchandise to secure their high-end societal status. Oh yeah, the $10,000 grand prize is neat too, I guess.

Excuse the weird aspect ratio, I had to edit the page slightly to make everything look neat for the picture.

In addition to gag product labels, Nick Magazine also used to be in the business of gag postcards. Ain’t that just the bee’s knees? I don’t recall Nick printing many of these back when I started reading in the 2000’s (I mean c’mon, postcards? Instant message me when they start printing gag emails, grandpa), which is unfortunate. I might’ve gotten more use out of these than a fake label for dental floss. There were very few times as a child where my friends were in close vicinity to dental floss, but they definitely all had mailboxes!

Jeez, what is this, the giveaway issue? Sorry Arnold, but I already just spent hours convincing my Mom to search for Banjo-Kazooie's magic puzzle piece and apply for a lifetime's supply of Rugrats pencils. Just be happy I bought your 3-foot long poster and move along!

Ah, is there any other activity more tried-and-true than the ever-popular maze? Between activity books and restaurant kids’ menus I think they may be more common than the word search at this point.

Interestingly, when also considering the Look-Alikes pages, I’m surprised by how straightforward this magazine is when it comes to crediting the artists of these activities (and with big, bold, differently-colored text, no less). Back when I was checking out issue #115 I had to head to the back of the book just to find some proper attributions! I wonder what changed between 1998 and 2005?

Speaking of which, Rodica Prato is still active in the industry to this day! You can find a lot of her works on her Instagram. She does tons of large, natural landscapes in a style very similar to this page here, give her a look!

Another Comic Book, coming up! I’ve actually got a lot to say about this one cause-

Oh, uh, I’m sorry! It seems I accidentally skipped an interview. Usually they don't make 'em as small as this… Hm, this is awkward…

Seriously, what's with the shortchange? Did they want to get Chevy Chase and when that fell through interviewing Beverly D'Angelo was Plan B? Sorry you weren't deemed full page material, Mrs. Griswold.

Alright, sorry, where were we? Right, let’s take a look at the Comic Book for this issue.

Starting us off, I actually got a lot of laughs out of the “Prankvertisement” on the left page, maybe the most I’ve laughed at any Nick Mag content since starting this blog! Convincing someone they mathematically don’t exist and having them immediately fade away, unable to even find a hole in the formula is so funny in such a ridiculous way to me.

Also, I tried the activity on the right page. It’s kind of a fun idea, but it made me dizzy. I recommend it to anyone reading who might be deserving of such a fate.

Finally, another history lesson opportunity! The Southern Fried Fugitives was one of Nick Magazine’s first ongoing comics, and was pretty synonymous with the mag’s brand during their publication. It had been canceled sometime before the 2000’s, and while it's personally not the most appealing to me, I can see how its art and wacky premise factored into its longevity.

Eagle-eyed readers might have already spotted these strips underneath some of the pages. Like the similarly formatted Impy & Wormer, these are short gags slotted in the bottom of each page of the Comic Book in what’s probably the most effective use of empty space since that ship that got stuck in the Suez Canal. There’s more than what’s in my picture, but they all also follow the “[Thing] who is always stuck 10 seconds in the future” setup, so take a look if you’re really dying for more of those.

These strips come from famous American illustrator Tony Millionaire, who’s probably most well-known for his Sock Monkey series of children’s books and the comic strip Maakies. He’s worked with DC & Marvel, done art for a They Might Be Giants album, and has produced a veritable mountain of independent work. On the Nickelodeon side of things, he recently did work on Boom! Studios’ Rocko’s Modern Life series of comic books. You can find him and his stunning work on Instagram.

So, after passing another edition of Scene but Not Heard and a short n’ sweet CatDog comic I haven’t got much to say on, we come across… Hey, I remember these guys! Funky & Miriam’s House of Random Words was a sort of comic/activity hybrid where readers were challenged to guess the right definition of the word the characters were using. These are fun! And they make a vocabulary virtuoso such as myself feel smart, in spite of the fact I’m reading a magazine for children.

Odd thing to end off the Comic Book with, don’t you think? Unless it ended earlier? I can never tell since they don’t actually say when the Comic Book is over, exactly. Anyway, I know how this sounds, but I would really appreciate some citations here! How can we be so sure that “monster obstacles” in minigolf only really started in the 1950s?

Hm?

Really making kids put the work in here, huh? I feel like this might be one too many mazes above the average reader’s paygrade. Good thing kids can just turn the page or you would've severely handicapped your marketing.

Pages edited to show both the back and front.

This is a pretty fun idea for a prank, and I know as a kid I would’ve appreciated some way to liven up the road trip experience. A gag newspaper would’ve done the trick! Well, it sounds good on paper, but maybe not magazine paper. Yeah I feel like the crinkly texture of plastic-y paper might give away this one-page periodical as a phony before the prankee gets the chance to read it. Unfortunate, but what can you do? Statistically this prank must’ve worked at least one time.

Alright, I can usually handle Nickelodeon’s slime-based image and all the drippings that have come with it, but this actually makes me want to gag. The idea of cracking through the cold, hard exterior of a popsicle and unearthing a filling of thick, syrupy slop underneath is not really my idea of a good time. A quick look-up shows that these things do indeed have their fans, so maybe I’m missing grout- er, uh, missing out.

We’ve got our calendar for the issue here, and while I’m still not impressed by the calendar’s comedy, I do appreciate the wide variety of fun facts and celebrity birthdays. This is just another way for kids to gain little random pieces of knowledge, and I’m all for it! Kids love finding out random facts, it's like the fun version of learning.

This is a pretty good tutorial, and it actually teaches some important drawing tips, like breaking down figures into shapes and making outlines and temporary lines for guidance. Yeah it’s basic, but for a young audience, I give it a thumbs-up. Just like Arnold.

Oh, wow. This is genuinely some history in the making! It’s interesting to see the likes of The Fairly Oddparents and ChalkZone being mentioned before they and their creators became such hot topics. For those unfamiliar or forgetful, Oh Yeah! Cartoons was a Nickelodeon show that premiered in 1998. It was an anthology of sorts, with each episode featuring a couple of short cartoons created by various filmmakers in the industry. It ran for three years, spanning a total of 34 episodes, and like those other two shows I mentioned, it was where My Life as a Teenage Robot got its start. Cartoon Network had tried a similar format a couple years before Oh Yeah! Cartoons, with its own anthology show What a Cartoon!. That show gave us Dexter’s Laboratory, The Powerpuff Girls, Johnny Bravo, among others. Both shows were fantastic means of creating tons of new, varied content and spawning shows that are still beloved to this day.

So yeah, needless to say, can we get another one of these kinds of shows, please? There’s only so many more reboots you can make, right? Right?

Time to wrap things up, and we’ve got the usual last-minute ads and gags, but I do want to talk about Hey, Herb!. This was a section where readers could write in to then-Nickelodeon president Herb Scannell and ask their burning questions. As you can probably tell though, the audience of elementary school kids reading Nickelodeon Magazine usually weren’t very sure on what to ask. So these sections tend to be pretty small. As Nickelodeon’s fourth president, Scannell oversaw the release of some of Nick’s most popular shows, including Spongebob Squarepants, Danny Phantom, and Avatar: The Last Airbender during his ten-year long stint. I’d love to ask him what that was like, but seeing as how this was before all that, I guess these are pretty good questions too. (He does kind of look like Jimmy Smits).

And with that, we put a lid on another rip-roaring edition of Nickelodeon Magazine. As per usual, I didn’t get to everything in the issue, just the stuff I had things to say about. Honorable mentions for this issue include some gag flyers for fake tourists traps (to go along with the gag truckstop newspaper), and the previously mentioned CatDog and Scene but Not Heard comics. KABLAM! fans might also be interested in checking out page #58 which includes an interview with Stephen Holman, the creator of the show’s recurring Life with Loopy segment.

In other news, Nickelodeon just celebrated its 44th anniversary two days ago! So, why didn’t I post this NMH then instead of today? Well… it was April Fool’s Day too, wasn’t it? Uh, April Fool’s?

That’s all the fun in the sun we've got for now. Enjoy spring while you've still got it, 'cause summer will be here before you know it! Have fun, and until next time, keep on reading!

#nmh post #90s #1998 #nickelodeon #magazine #hey arnold

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cantquitu · 2 months ago

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Full transcript: Sunday September 01 2024, 12.07am BST, The Sunday Times

As a teenager growing up in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, Gemma Styles wasn’t really a gym person. But when she started doing her A-levels, she developed a habit. “I would be going to the gym at 9pm so I was really tired,” she says. “Otherwise I was too stressed out to sleep.”

It worked, sort of: Styles passed the exams and got into Sheffield Hallam University to study a science teaching degree. Except then things got worse. “The comfort or structure that I’d always been used to, at home and at school, the people to check on you and notice if things are OK or not, when that was not there any more, the wheels fell off the train, to be honest. And that was when, in terms of depression, my mental health got really, really bad.”

On the sort of balmy August day that beer gardens are made for, Styles, 33, is sitting opposite me on a grey sofa in her open, sunlit living room, while her eight-month-old daughter wriggles on her knee. Being candid and thoughtful on the subject of mental health is Styles’s gig — she’s part of a generation of millennial women using social media to put these conversations front and centre (see also: Scarlett Curtis, Jameela Jamil, Alice Liveing). On Instagram she shares stories and advice about depression and anxiety with her ten million followers, and on her Good Influence podcast she covers topics like stress and body confidence.

Now she has written a book, Why Am I Like This? — a warm, compassionate and digestible account of why our imperfect human brains sometimes struggle with the demands of modern life. It takes on neuroscience, anthropology and psychology, covering everything from social media to SSRIs, activism to the 24/7 news doom cycle, and the physiology of what exactly our brains are doing when they go into “fight or flight” mode — all dispatched with thoughtful explanations and kind asides.

The ultimate message is to cut yourself some slack. “If you’re someone who is a little bit introspective, or interested in understanding yourself better, that’s who I was writing it for,” Styles says.

In the book she draws on her own experiences with mental illness, writing that by her mid-twenties she was trapped in a cycle of depressive episodes and anxiety, blaming herself for feeling so miserable and unworthy, which of course made it all much worse. “Seeing a therapist in the end turned out to be the best decision I could have made,” she writes.

“I think those times when my own mental health has been really, dangerously poor have given me such an appreciation for being able to find the things that make me happy,” she says now, while emphasising that Why Am I Like This? is not a memoir. “I was very clear from the beginning — I’m not interested in writing a memoir. Because I mean, what’s there to write? I don’t know. I consider myself an exceptionally normal person.”

Strictly speaking, there is one big way in which her life is not exceptionally normal: her little brother is Harry Styles. The same Harry Styles who was formerly the biggest member of one of the biggest boy bands of all time, who in 2016 relaunched as a solo artist with moves like Mick Jagger, and since then has released three colossally successful albums, sold out stadiums around the world and starred in several Hollywood blockbusters. In July he duetted on stage in Hyde Park with his friend Stevie Nicks.

The One Direction circus catapulted his sister — three years Harry’s senior — from total obscurity to the status of accidental star by association. Styles’s social media following exploded (as did their mother Anne’s — now a children’s author with three million Instagram followers of her own). “Having the amount of followers that I have now isn’t something that I went out and courted,” Styles says. “It just happened very much on the periphery of what was going on with someone else.”

It’s worth pointing out that being Harry’s big sister is absolutely not the only reason Styles has such a huge following online. But as that attention snowballed, it did leave her with a decision to make.

“I ended up in that position and I was like, well, what am I going to do with it? If I’m going to have that sort of platform, then do I feel good about what I’m using it for? Can I help people with it? What do I want to talk about? What do I want to be known for?” Today she has found her calling.

Even though her kid brother is now to be found harmonising with a member of Fleetwood Mac, he’s still there for her when she needs him. Literally: on the shoot for this article Uncle Harry turned up to babysit his niece. In the acknowledgments of Why Am I Like This?, Styles thanks “my mum, for holding me tight along the way” and “H for the pep talks and your endless wisdom”.

“My family are very open about mental health, which I have found so amazing and comforting,” she says. “I know that’s something that not everybody has when they go through mental health issues. So I am very, very grateful for that.”

Has she given her brother any wisdom of her own over the years? “I think we all help each other, to be honest. People in your family, they don’t have to understand everything, but giving people space to talk about what they’re going through is such a valuable thing for anyone.”

That’s what she does for her followers on Instagram, who will regularly message to tell her they feel less alone thanks to something she has shared. “A big part of being human is we like to feel like we’re understood.” Social media can be a hornet’s nest, but Styles thinks it is possible to avoid the darker, more polarising sides. “Be intentional about what you’re consuming. We talk about algorithms a lot now, but if there are things that you’re following that are making you feel rubbish, you don’t have to follow them.”

Has having a very well-known member of her family shaped her approach to social media? “I think H is a really good example actually of someone who has been introspective enough about their own social media use to know what feels good and what doesn’t,” she says. “He’s not super-active on social media. And that seems to work for him the best at the moment.” She did the same during her maternity leave. “I disappeared for months.”

She recently sought help again. For a little while she had been wondering if some of the things she had struggled with all her life — finding it hard to motivate herself and having difficulties maintaining the admin of friendships — could be ADHD. When she started reading about how it manifests in women, she had a light-bulb moment … sort of. “I was like, oh my God, that is me,” she says, “I think. Or am I just convincing myself of that as an excuse for why I’ve always been rubbish at all these things?”

Why Am I Like This? is not a manifesto, although Styles is clear-eyed about the ways in which the mental health system is not working. According to research by the membership organisation NHS Providers, in September 2023 more than 1.8 million people were on waiting lists for these services. “The gap between people being aware of anxiety, for example, and there actually being support for any kind of mental illness is a canyon,” she says. She is an ambassador for a research charity called MQ Mental Health Research, which delivered a letter to Downing Street in July 2023 highlighting the desperate need for commitment to mental health services. “I have been dealing with this for more than a decade,” she says. “So I’ve got skin in the game. I genuinely care.”

Finally she made a GP appointment, expecting them to dismiss the idea — instead she was referred for an assessment and diagnosed with ADHD in 2022. In signature style, she shared the news on Instagram: “I have ADHD!” she wrote. “Oddly feel more nervous to talk about it with you than I have any other mental health-related things, but here we go …” In no time at all her DMs were full of notes from other women who had also been diagnosed, thanking her for her openness.

Two years on, the diagnosis has taught her to be more compassionate towards herself. “There’s such shame that goes with the particular things that people with ADHD tend to struggle with,” she says. “It does feel like a moral failing, like laziness. The label has given me a different lens to understand my own behaviour, to look on myself a bit more kindly and to try to make life easier for myself.” In Why Am I Like This?, she writes about hoping to understand more about what influence ADHD could have had on her mental health throughout the years.

She also hopes the book will help others to understand their idiosyncratic, imperfect brains — “I take a great amount of joy from being able to explain things to people in a digestible way” — and to keep learning herself. “I’ve spent so much of my life not understanding why I struggle with certain things. And I think it has been such a help for me to have more of an understanding of how my brain works.”

Why Am I Like This? by Gemma Styles (Bantam £20) is out on September 12. To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk or call 020 3176 2935. Free UK standard P&P on online orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

#gemma styles #why am i like this?#sunday times #book #mental health #full transcript

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queenofbaws · 2 years ago

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Good day! How are you?

Height difference with Abi x Nick please?

at-least-but-not-exactly-six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

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This...this really wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d asked for help. When she’d jogged over to the radio hut, she’d really meant for Dylan to come, but when she’d gotten there, Nick had been stopping by to say hi and Dylan had insisted he go with her for some reason, and just...

“I feel so dumb,” she said, grimacing when she realized she’d actually said it out loud.

“Aw man, don’t feel dumb - you’re not the one who put all this stuff up here!” Nick chuckled as he said it, but she could see the exasperation in his eyes, and oooh boy, she hoped that was aimed at Mr. H and not her. She was already embarrassed enough, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle another blow like that. A second later, she heard him mutter, “Why did they put all this stuff all the way up here?” and that helped. A little, at least. A little.

She should’ve checked her supplies earlier in the day, she could admit that, but it had slipped her mind. There was just always so much going on when you were in charge of a bunch of little kids, so yeah, all right, she had waited until the last moment to start looking for the paintbrushes, and yeah she was going to have a bunch of kids barging into the art hut any minute now to learn the difference between watercolors and acrylics, and now Nick was here too, and...oh this was turning out to be a day.

“I’m...thanks for doing this, I mean...really, Nick, thanks.” She knew she must’ve been about as red as her hair by that time, but there was just no stopping it. This was the closest the two of them had been since camp had started, and...oh man, every time he stretched for the shelf, his shirt rode up a little higher, and wow. “I-I tried getting up on a chair, but...”

“Hey, no prob, seriously! Honestly, I can’t believe you’d trust one of those rickety old things,” he laughed, stretching just a bit more before making a victorious sound. “Theeere we gooo...” he said as he eased the big plastic tub of paintbrushes down, careful not to let any of them spill out as he lowered his arms and offered them to her. “Mission accomplished. Sort of a double-win, really, considering you managed to survive standing on one of those death traps.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she laughed, lowering her eyes in some sort of last-ditch attempt to keep him from seeing how flustered she was. It didn’t exactly work out that way - their hands brushed as she took the tub of paintbrushes from him, and all at once her face was burning twice as hot as it had been a second before. “I, um...thanks again. For real! I...I super appreciate it, and - ”

“Oh, boo,” groaned a voice from the door, and when she whipped around to see Dylan standing there in the doorway, his mouth twisted up in an amused grin, she thought Nick’s ears were maybe a little redder than they’d been before. “Here I was, hoping I’d get to see one of you guys climb the furniture like a chipmunk. Ugh, my nefarious plans never work out in my favor.” Then he winked, that jerk, and man oh man, Abi couldn’t tell which one of them that wink had been meant for.

#xxjulialillyxx #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #well howdy!!! i'm doin a-okay - hope you're doin well too!! :D

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imonthinice · 3 years ago

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 5/?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name ( your best friend’s name)

Part 5! This is going well, I think, I hope you like it :)

So last night, I finished two parts to this series, and guess what? Turns out when Tumblr glitches you have no rights and suddenly all your work is gone! If you need me, I’ll be crying in my writer’s corner

Warnings: Swearing, Trauma, Family Issues, Left on a cliffhanger lol :) sue me, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Down girl, you’ve been on two dates, did he even open up to you fully? A/N texted back to Y/N, who took a quick break to the bathroom to compose herself and fix her hair after Jason, the man she was casually seeing, opened up to her about his father and his father’s criminal record as well as his mother and his mother’s passing.

Yes he opened up to me! But we’ve been spending all day flirting and I told him about how my father is an immigrant and how I tell everyone I am legally a bastard, and I just don’t know, is it too soon to say I like him?

Go get him, Girl. Go get him.

In the other room, Jason was hastily texting his brother Dick, who has been in a relationship with Barbara for a while now, and is deeply committed to her. So, he needed advice.

How did I know when to kiss Barbara? Do you want to kiss Y/N? Dick asked back to Jason.

Yes I want to kiss her you idiot, but when do I do it? We’ve only been on two dates.

Why don’t you take her to a fancy restaurant out of the city where you aren’t being watched constantly and she isn’t flipping off the paparazzi, and then do it? Also, Bruce thinks her flipping off the pap twice is very funny, shockingly.

As soon as he received that text, she walked back out of the bathroom, this time, letting her hair down out of the bun it is usually in.

“You look nice with your hair down, Y/N.”

“You think so? I usually have it down when I don’t have classes.”

“I do think so.”

“Well, thank you, Jason,” she purred, sitting back down in her chair, opposite him.

“Bruce saw your shenanigans with the pap, he apparently thinks it’s funny.”

“Your family is checking in on you? Can’t they trust me?” she said, in a completely sarcastic tone.

“Well, I was just bragging about how lovely I find you.”

“Kind of you to do so, Jason,” she placed her hands on his and had to lift herself up slightly to lean into him, not to kiss him or anything, but to be closer to him.

“Your love language is physical attention,” he smirked at her, “I can tell by how you grab me, Y/N.”

“Don’t psych me out now, we’re having fun!” she whisper-yelled at him.”

“I do it when I’m nervous,” he assured.

“What’s there to be nervous of?” she asked.

“The pretty girl leaning into my face making moves on me?”

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” he grinned, “no chance I want you to stop.”

And then his phone rang. He picked it up to hear a very panicked Bruce on the other end,

“Jason, here, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

He hung up and grabbed her hands and leant in, like he was going to kiss her, but only rest his forehead against hers,

“This has been lovely, really, but that was Bruce and he needs me, I’m sorry,” he whispered down to her.

“I understand, we can always go on more dates.”

“I hope we do, see you later, Y/N.”

“See you, Jason.”

And he left. But there was something about the furniture in the house after he left, it smelled like him. Not in a weird way where she was obsessed with it, but she associated the smell with the feeling of riding through the city and the back roads like no one was watching, the feeling of being free, the feeling of being unstoppable.

And that, that was the beauty of the chase, the beauty of what she wanted, to be free, gone from her parents, gone from her twin sister, free.

But, she went to bed that night without even going to her car to pick up her notes. She did have class tomorrow, but it wasn’t criminal psych. It was regular psych. Which she wasn’t stoked for, that’s for damn sure.

-----------------------

Waking up, she opened her phone at around 5am to see a text from Jason,

You know, I always wanted to try some restaurants in Metropolis, I know you don’t like it, but I know the press doesn’t follow me there. What do you say? (Yes I know it’s 3am I’ll tell you all about what happened and why I’m awake so late later lol)

She thought about it, scared that her parents would see her walking around with this guy they didn’t know. Fuck it, she thought, I only live once.

Jason, I would love to. And I hope that story is a good one.

He almost immediately shot back, Mornin’ and yeah, it is. Do you have class today? I can come get you from your’s and pick you up from class if you need it, I swear you won’t have to ride the motorbike in your home city.

I do have class, and you don’t have to but my class is at 3pm again if you’re willing.

Meet up at 12 and talk for a while? Might be fun.

My roommate will be here, though.

Well, you already inadvertedly met my best friend, remember the baker? His name’s Will Harper. I called in a quick favor to impress you and he’s a sucker for a good romance story.

Well, he seemed nice, and yeah, if you want to meet my roommate you can come over, Jason.

You can call me Jay if you want to, Y/N.

I gotta shower now, Jason, but I figured nick names would come out in time.

She put down her phone and went to shower.

-----------------------------------

“Mornin’ A/N.”

“Y/N,”, she greeted happily, “the coffee’s already brewed by the way.”

“God I love you,” she blurted out.

“Yeah yeah, tell me the drama, did you guys have sex?”

“No, but he’s coming over today to meet you slash talk to me before taking me to class and then driving himself and I to Metropolis for dinner.”

“Escaping the cameras to go to the city that has your parents?” A/N questioned, seeming concerned.

“I know, I know, but I only live once and I doubt we’ll see them. If we do, I might just call him my boyfriend to get it over with. Have to talk to him about that though.”

“Honestly, have you told him how insane your parents are?”

“That’s what I’m planning on doing today, A/N.”

“Don’t scare him off, Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed and she went to go get her notes from last night, it was around 11:50am, so she knew that Jason would be here any minute, but she needed to get those notes into her room, she was right about Jason when he pulled down the street in a Porsche. Pulling into her driveway, Y/N waved at Jason while finishing to pull out her books from her beat up car. Quite the difference from the Porsche and her car, but she only noticed it for a few seconds before both doors slammed, in sync.

“Well, that was timed perfectly,” she said to Jason when he met up with her at her car.

“Wow, we’re magicians,” he joked, “Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, no, I can handle it myself, thank you.”

“Well, it doesn’t kill me to ask, you’re going to need help with that door though,” he mused.

“Oh no, you underestimate me, I can open doors with my hips, and I think I didn’t shut the door the whole way so I could do this easier,” she laughed and began to lead him up the driveway, like she had done last night before he ran off with Bruce.

“Thinking ahead?”

“Something I clearly didn’t do when saying we could go to Metropolis, I’ll admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have time to talk about it later, Jay, are you however, ready to meet my roommate?”

“No, but you only live once, Y/N.”

“You won’t die, I promise,” she said as she nudged the door open with her hip and greeted A/N, “Hey girl! This is Jason, entertain him while I file notes, maybe, I swear I’ll speed run it.”

“Entertain him? Are you serious? He’s your guest!” she joked.

“Hey thanks man really appreciate it,” Y/N joked before hastily walking towards her bedroom, this was obviously a song and dance they had done with A/N’s lover, so Y/N shot it back at A/N.

“Jason.”

“A/N, right?”

“Yes, sir, how are you today?”

“I’m good, was that a fight?” he questioned.

“No, don’t worry, it’s just the way I acted when I first brought my partner, person, thing, over. She’s just being spiteful. Trust me, if it was a fight, there’d be a lot more of a screaming match.”

“Well, that’s reassuring, I think.”

“So, Jason, do you like her?” she asked.

“We’ve been on back-to-back dates since Sunday, A/N,” he paused, “I really do.”

“Well, it is not like I am going to sit here and be like ‘Oh you can’t date her!’ and feign being upset about this, I mean it’s been 2 dates and you’re going on a third, if that’s not leading towards seriousness, I don’t know what is,” she assured him. He seemed to like this.

“How much has she told you? My secrets or anything?”

“God no, you’ll tell me those with time when we’re friends.”

“Well, I hope you’re a good friend to Y/N and myself, in the future, then.”

“The future is just around the corner. Don’t let Y/N escape you. She’s a catch,” she finished as Y/N reentered the room,

“Did you two have fun?” Y/N asked.

“I think we did,” Jason said.

“We did,” A/N assured, “you two can go to her room now, I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t worried you weren’t going to be, you always are.” Y/N said to A/N before grabbing Jason’s hand and taking him to her room. He hadn’t been in her room yet.

It was kind of a mess, I mean it wasn’t like they had a maid and they’re both broke college/university students. Notes were strewn across her desk, but that was expected with such a high-study class, the one they met in.

“You clearly like the colour red,” Jason said, pointing to the obvious red feature wall, grinning.

“Well, I told my sister to design my room last time she was over and she picked it based off of the criteria I gave her, she’s going to be an interior designer, and red was one of the colours I gave her,” Y/N said with a sigh, “That’s kind of the thing we need to talk about, my family,” she sighed again, “They are, special, to say the least.”

“Well, so is mine.”

“Yeah but,” she sat on her bed and he joined her, “My family is quite, how do you say it, Christian? They’re very hard to impress and if they see me running around the city with you they might expect you to be my boyfriend, not the guy I’ve known for 3 days and went on back-to-back dates with,” she rambled, “ Not that they wont like you! They’re just traditional, and I’m not and it drives a slight wedge between us,” she paused to look at him, “This is just a really long-winded warning about only a chance to meet them,” she finished.

“Well, that doesn’t scare me. You would understand why if you knew the Waynes, not that they’re traditional, they too, are just hard to impress,” he assured.

“Probably shouldn’t have flipped off the paparazzi then, honestly.”

“No, Bruce found that funny. And about last night, my brother, Damien, he’s the youngest Wayne and one of the only not-adopted ones, being 3 not adopted ones,” he paused, “Anyway, he broke his leg playing office chair racing in the Manor, and I needed to go to Bruce to get yelled at for bringing up the idea,” he laughed, “Bruce then told me after that if he was invited I wouldn’t have been yelled at,” he paused, “That was fun.”

“So, very posh and pristine family, and one of you broke your leg roughhousing in a very expensive Manor?”

“Only in Wayne Manor would that be a sentence.”

“Seems like you have your hands tied with your family,” she joked.

“I wouldn’t if the idiots stopped hurting themselves playing games when I’m on dates,” he retorted and laughed with Y/N.

It seemed crazy that these two would meet, since so many factors played into it, but she swore God saw the potential for this to happen and said, This, this deserves a shot to shine. And she was grateful. She didn’t exactly believe in God, but if God sent her this boy, she might change her mind on going to church with her parents when they invite her.

And that’s the beauty in the mystery, the beauty in the ‘Positive’ they claimed after not knowing what to do next but still powering through to go on dates, and they had gone on enough dates and spent at least 1 third of the last 3 days with each other. That was impressive. That was a good sign and they both knew it.

The next step was packing a few bags and going on 24 hour dates in the cities, but they weren’t ready for that yet. They both thought a first kiss would be better before that. Luckily, Jason wanted to kiss her today, and she wanted to kiss him today.

Before they knew it, they were in the Porsche driving through the streets she describes all-too well, blasting songs and screaming lyrics with Jason, a song stuck out and that was the Annapantsu’s Smooth Criminal Rendition with Caleb Hyles. Since the rendition had a multitude of riffs that Y/N adored, she would scream it and Jason would continue the male parts. It was peaceful yet the most high-pressure intense situation she had felt in a while.

--------------------------------

Getting out of class, she somehow avoided the paparazzi she had grown somewhat accustomed to over the days she had known Jason, she got back into the Porsche before they noticed she was even there, but then they noticed, and Jason fucking floored it to the streets and out of there.

He dropped her off at her place to get ready for an expensive dinner with him in Metropolis. She thought long and heard about what to wear to her date, but in the end, she decided on a nice pink dress her mother had bought for her back in Metropolis. She had told her daughter, Only wear this on a date with a man you think is endgame, now, she didn’t know if Jason was endgame, but she did want to put all the energy she could into the universe to make him worthwhile.

(This is the first time I’m going to include pictures! I think I’m getting the hand of Tumblr now hehe :) )

(If the skin tone doesn’t match your own, because you’re darker or paler, just imagine it’s yours :) you’re all beautiful in your own right and I’ll use pictures with varying skin tones as I progress the story)

She gave a little twirl in her mirror before taking a quick picture to send to one of her other class friends, who was wondering how things were going with Jason at the time. Her name was Artemis Crock, she knew that Art and Jason were friends, but she also liked Artemis Crock a lot, thinking that they were likely going to be good friends.

You’re going to make him swear up and down to Will that he is ‘Only seeing you casually’ while Will says he’s in love with you, you’re killing it. She shot to Y/N.

Y/N smiled and left her bedroom to go meet up with A/N, who wanted to make sure the dress she was wearing was cute, and it was,

“Holy shit! I said look cute, not make him your bitch, Y/N!”

“Potato, Potahto,” she laughed, “You really think I look worthy of a Wayne?”

“You always do, but you didn’t have to go THIS hard to prove a point. Only one tabloid said you weren’t enough for him,” she paused and Y/N thought about that tabloid, it upset her, sure. But she was completely aware that spite was going to fuel many of her next moves in the press, “Just the one tabloid.”

“And the one tabloid is enough to make me spiteful. Fuck them tabloids, girl, they can suck it,” she said.

“I don’t think Jason would appreciate if the tabloids blew you,” she joked.

“You don't know that, A/N,” she retorted.

“Do you know that?” A/N said as the doorbell rang, “I’m assuming that’s for you, have fun!” A/N said and waved as Y/N waved back and walked to answer the door. Yep, it was Jason.

“Woah,” he said, mouth agape, when she answered the door.

“Close your mouth, Romeo. You’ll attract flies,” she joked.

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years ago

Note

Zadie Smith wrote a piece for the New Yorker in 2008 called "Dead Man Laughing" about her father, grief, and British comedy. Very well-written and includes some insight into her brother's (Doc Brown) comedy and a surprise shout-out to Andy Zaltzman at the end. I really enjoyed stumbling onto it and thought you might too, if you hadn't already!

Wow, that was beautiful. Thank you for recommending it to me. For anyone else who wants to read it, here's the link: Dead Man Laughing by Zadie Smith, December 2008. I didn't know Doc Brown had a sister who writes for a living, but I now know she writes very fucking well.

That was interesting both as a larger analysis of how comedy functions in Britain and especially in its class system, and as a personal story of her family and her brother's journey into comedy. I loved reading the stuff about seeing people get better from one Edinburgh show to the next, and how their material grows as they gain experience. Given that I have lived a very very different life than the woman who wrote this article, I enjoyed seeing that I have one fairly specific thing in common with her, as my brother also does stand-up and I have also stood around in bars after good and bad gigs while he and and other comedians discussed why every little misstep had gone so wrong. I mean, it's a very different level, and most of his crowd are not important enough to be discussing what reviews they got in the newspapers. But kind of cool to see they basically discuss the same things: Why the fuck did this joke that did well before not work this time?

It was a timely article to read on this specific Sunday in June, as I just spent the day with my dad, watching British comedy together because that's what we've bonded over since I was very young and that's how he wanted to spend Father's Day. I've spent many hours throughout my life dying laughing while watching Fawlty Towers with my dad, and reading this article on Father’s Day made me remember that I should appreciate it extra hard every time I get to do that. I'm lucky.

I've picked out a couple of parts of the article that I felt a personal connection to that way, but it was all interesting and so well written. I enjoyed the look at what particular types of comedy did for one man in a particular situation, and how it shaped his relationships with his children too. It's a lovely story, very worth telling, and very well told. As well as the ruminations on comedians versus anti-comedians, cynicism to the point of mistrust for any purely happy jokes in British humour, what makes the comedy work.

The bit about Zaltzman at the end did make me smile, and even more so because @lameyards specifically pointed it out when recommending this article to me. I like the idea that people I've never met can read something about Andy Zaltzman and think, "Oh, I must bring this to the attention of Tellthemeerkatsitsfine." Awesome, that's exactly how I want to be thought of.

That brings me to the one other thing from that article that I want to pick out and address specifically, which is: Should I know about Daniel Kitson? I've never seen or heard anything he's done, I just know his name as a guy who was in there with other guys I like (the Andy Zaltzman and Russell Howard group of people) and I've vaguely heard before that he might be a genius of stand-up comedy, and this article seems to back that up. Given the fact that Zadie Smith writes so beautifully, I feel like anything she describes as good is probably actually very good. That line about it being like Nick Drake turned up to James Taylor gig was a picture perfect analogy. I realize I just said a few days ago that I'm not going to add any more British comedy to my list, but I might go looking for at least a bit of Daniel Kitson's stuff.

Anyway, thanks again for sending me that, I really enjoyed it!

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nicholasmoneysign · 3 years ago

Text

MY FIRST SILENT RETREAT

Nick C. Haze

I couldn’t stand my voice so I decided to shut up for three days.

Talking to myself has gotten out of hand. I forget it’s not entirely normal to have conversations with the imaginary person I believe to be in my head. The voice is normal, but treating them as a separate entity may not be. My forms of regular conversation are hour-long therapy sessions each Thursday (after cutting down from twice a week), recording my songs and the atrocious task of mixing my own vocals, and one-sided taunts and greetings with my cat.

To hear my voice became the cringe of all cringe – my final straw before I lose all faith in myself. I didn’t know what to do but had a thought for a couple of days to stop talking temporarily. One more therapy session to express the chagrin I felt each time I nattered; something had to be done. So, last Thursday, the first of July 2021, at 1;30pm, I decided to shut up.

To help me through the urge of uttering fleeting thoughts, what my head was aching to blurt out, I tried writing down the nonsense into my notes as a helping tool.

P.s. this is my silent retreat. Technology is allowed.

“May the silence be ever in your favour”

Day 1

When does one begin a silent retreat?

I’m not going anywhere, no desirable destination for total vocal silence. I am left to attempt my everyday life without the use of my voice. Three days seems plenty. I can’t think of a better time than now to start.

3:21pm Thursday July 1, 2021

Clio got into a pee squat position on the carpet, so I reacted with a single “pshh” in an attempt to stop her. I cleaned her litter of the poop, but I know she’ll try to piss somewhere else in a matter of time. I don’t think pshh breaks my silence promise.

The tea kettle was being obnoxiously loud and so I uttered “Jesus”.

I am learning I have unnecessary sounds that escape me when my body turns in certain ways.

Took a sip of my coffee to taste the new creamer and began to speak but stopped myself.

I forgot and sang put your head on my shoulder while lifting off from the toilet seat.

A little over two hours. Reading the Art of War, I haven’t spoken anything other than accidental utters. Developed a frontal lobe headache. Not a scientist. Just a guess. If I die from a severe case of pissed off-ness and my body lays without signs of a struggle – a headache was involved.

Irked: sighed and uttered to a nude Polaroid left in my wallet as I decided to toss it out. Sitting in my wallet from the early pandemic months, it had warped her face and made the symbolism of her meanness too memorable, and she, in fact, was a mean person. The photo had to go. The nude of my sex worker romance and me in the pool at my desert birthday weekend went back in the Polaroid pile. Fresh slate needed, granted, the wallet was a gift from a former flame, fling, partner – disastrous fool. I need a new wallet.

It’s 7:00pm Thursday

The sun is starting to set, but it’s still daylight. Bless you, LA. I broke my vow of silence for a work call concerning a new designer to finish my book.

Dishonourable message to scammers, fuckwits and fucktards – suck the farts from J.Lo’s spicy booty hole.

Can’t trust anyone.

It’s 10:17pm

A lapse in memory loss, remind me: And I’m back on my silent retreat. I do slip up but working on minimising that.

12:08am

The only person I don’t mind hearing talk tonight is Tom Cruise. Shall, go chop wood and then continue reading the Art of War. Must take melatonin.

“19. Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

Excerpt from The Art of War

Sun Tzu

12:39am

Solid wank. I only thought about four or five exes. Finished with the prettiest actress. Luxury girl. Looks like charity. The person, not a philanthropic wank.

Day 2 – Friday

Still only going to break the silence for work conversation. Which will be calling Bill, this graphic designer and get my mother fucking book cover designed.

By far the longest I’ve gone without having to say nonsense. It’s peaceful. Starting to forget the sound of my voice. It sounds like a calmer voice in my head. Today is brighter.

11:43am

Broke silence to mumble one of my songs, hoping to think of better lyrics. This is a positive sign. Progress into what I hope happens after my retreat - to not be disgusted when I hear my voice.

I had to talk gruntingly because tik tok was on a nazi informational kick, which was odd. You play secret Hitler one time, and your phone thinks you need more fascist history lessons.

They’re going to kill off enough Bitcoin big stake owners, so the coin is too valuable, essentially wiping out the real possibility of it as currency. Ethereum should be the next best thing.

I broke the silence at the pool. Being a little lit and not noticing my neighbour was also here, once he said hello, I immediately chatted. I knew not to speak but don’t know how to tell others I’m not speaking at the moment. Maybe I’ll just not talk until they figure it out. Or make a t-shirt.

(nap)

1:04am Sunday

Rewarding experience. Continuing. holy fuck it’s not Sunday. It’s Friday night/Saturday.

(1:04am Saturday)

Continuing the silent retreat until tomorrow night, and then I’m going out and drinking. Hopefully, dancing and hold a titty.

3:52pm Saturday and I haven’t said a word

I think Clio learnt that even she went too far on this dramatic meow.

What somebody else’s granddaddy used to say: “if you wanna be seen, stand up. If you wanna be heard, speak up. If you wanna be appreciated, shut up.” – Contestant on survivor

7:59pm

I am ending this retreat. It’s been interesting. I have learnt how to hold back from speaking unnecessarily a little more. Clio is more scared of doing wrong when I’m silent rather than shouting profanities.

8:00pm ending my first silent retreat

“What do I say?

I need a playlist.”

– – – – – – – – –

Authors note: did not get to hold a titty.

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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songtoyou · 3 years ago

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Chapter 12: Switch - Part One

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 3,791

Warnings: Swearing

Story Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Easter has arrived. Tommy is spending it with his family, while Rose is forced to spend time with her ex. We learn that Tommy does not always want to be in control.

A/N: This chapter will have two parts.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars

There was a part of Tommy that wished he did not have to be in control all of the time. It was understandable that he be the one in charge of his business as he had no other person to rely on to step up to the plate. Michael was still too young. Also, Tommy had been developing doubts and distrust towards his cousin. It didn’t help that Michael would schedule secret meetings with potential business partners and act as if he was doing it to help Tommy and the company. Tommy used to rely on and confide in his Aunt Polly. Yet, she began to distance herself more and more from the company, especially since getting remarried to Aberama Gold, a fellow business associate to Tommy. John and Arthur had their business deals to worry about, and Ada spent most of her time in the States.

He wished Grace was still alive. She was Tommy’s number one supporter. He shared almost everything with Grace (the legal side) and truly valued her advice and opinions. When Tommy was with Grace, he was able just to be himself. He was allowed to be calm and not have to overwork his mind. He didn’t have to be in control.

It was only with Grace that Tommy allowed another person to have total control over him in the bedroom. Both he and Grace shared characteristics of a dominant and submissive. They often switched roles, with Tommy as the dominant and Grace as the submissive, and vice versa. He loved it when Grace used to dominate him. No one would have suspected the sweet-natured blonde woman had an alpha personality behind closed doors, who was and controlling and overtly sexual.

With Grace gone, Tommy never allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone. Lizzie tried to get Tommy to open that side of him up, but he denied her. He couldn’t do it. A part of Tommy felt as if it would be a betrayal to Grace. Both Ada and Polly constantly told Tommy that it was okay for him to move on from Grace.

“She gave you, on her deathbed, the permission to move on, Thomas. Respect your deceased wife’s wishes,” Aunt Polly would tell him.

“Find someone to have a family with, Tommy. Charlie deserves to have a mother figure in his life and possible siblings if it were to happen. Let yourself be happy,” were Ada’s words of encouragement.

No doubt Tommy would hear those exact words at his sister’s house this Sunday afternoon to celebrate Easter with the entire Shelby clan. Boy, it was going to be a long day. Charlie ended up spending the night at Ada’s with his cousins. Tommy was glad for that as indeed his sister would provide his son with an Easter basket. Tommy was not one for decorative or holiday pleasantries. That was all Grace. When Grace passed, Ada, Polly, or Esme would be the ones to step in and make sure Charlie celebrated his birthday with a party or invite him over for holiday festivities. Guilt would riddle Tommy at that notion that he could not provide his only child with a happy environment. Yes, Tommy loved Charlie dearly. However, Tommy could not deny that he lacked in other emotional departments. He was not one for sentiments or terms of endearment.

Another subject Tommy was not keen to have brought up was his “relationship” with Rose Turner. Unfortunately, he knew better than to expect his family members to rile him up about her and ask questions. None of them knew how Tommy met Rose. It was the same with Lizzie. While both Arthur and John were not faithful to their wives, neither were allowed to be members of Excelsior Club. He had mentioned Arthur and John to Tatiana to inquire if they could become members. Tatiana stated that they were both a liability. “Your brothers are too reckless and don’t fit the standards of our usual clientele. They are, how do I put this nicely? They are too ‘rough around the edges,’ so to speak,” Tatiana said dismissively when Tommy first started going to the Club.

It didn’t matter to Tommy either way; his brothers still managed to do fine all on their own. Besides, Arthur and John were not the faces of Shelby Company Limited; Tommy was and had an image to protect. If Tommy went down in disgrace, it would be for his business dealings, not that he kept himself in the company of whores.

However, Tommy could not help his growing feelings for Rose. There was an energy about her that was attractive to him that he could not quite understand why. Tommy was not sure if it was because Rose was able to adhere to his wicked desires. It amazed Tommy how she was keen on submitting and doing almost anything to please him. During scenes, Rose responded to Tommy as if he was the only man she needed, the only man she desired. And it felt genuine, not put on. There would be moments during aftercare where Rose would look at Tommy with such admiration and respect, that at first, it made him feel uneasy. But after a while, he came come to desire that look. That Tommy would do whatever it took to make sure Rose always looked at him in such away. Tommy found that he craved Rose’s respect, which caught him off guard.

Tommy soon realized that he also respected Rose and how she would do anything for her son. He admired that notion about her. She willingly entered into a line of work that could be demanding, demeaning, and possibly dangerous to provide for her child was not something that Tommy took lightly or was flippant about it. He would never refer to Rose as a “hooker with a heart of gold.” No, she was much more than a trope. Tommy knew Rose did not need a knight and shining armor to save her.

Lizzie wanted Tommy to save her. At the time, Tommy was in no position to be someone’s hero. He was too bruised, too shattered, too broken.

Now, here Tommy was at his sister’s home celebrating Easter. He sat back and watched everyone. The laughter, the smiles, Tommy felt like he didn’t belong. Tommy felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he stepped out back to smoke a cigarette since Ada did not allow smoking in her home.

The inhale of nicotine helped soothe Tommy’s anxiety and calm his nerves. Often, he wished he was back on opium. It was his way of coping after coming home from Afghanistan. He was only able to get clean because of Grace and her support. He never touched the stuff after getting clean, but there were still cravings. The feelings that came with the high brought such bliss. The satisfaction that nothing could harm you. Those weren’t going to go away magically overnight.

Tommy’s solitude was interrupted when his son, nephews, and nieces ran outside with their baskets to search for eggs. He looked at his watch and sighed. He was not sure how much longer he could stand this.

As the children flittered around the yard, Tommy took out his phone. He opened the message from one of the Blinders he had assigned to watch over Rose that day. The text message Tommy received earlier unsettled him. It was a picture of Rose exiting her house with Louis and a man. The three got in a car and drove off. At first sight of the image, Tommy felt enraged. He immediately wanted to know who this man was and why he was with Rose. Tommy was livid. Fortunately, he calmed himself down when Rose sent him a text an hour later.

Rose: I know you have your guys watching over Louis and me. While I do appreciate that, it is a little much. The man I am with is Louis’s father, Nick. We are going out for an Easter brunch. Nothing for you to worry about, and Happy Easter.

Tommy didn’t respond, but he was grateful that Rose cleared things up. He knew his reaction to the picture was ridiculous. The slight pang of jealously surprised Tommy. He didn’t quite know where it came from; it was the same feeling when Rose told him that Changretta contacted her. He was still unsure about what to do with Changretta. First, it was only business that Changretta was causing Tommy grief; now, the man was gearing up to steal his girl. Tommy realized that he must have been too lenient when dealing with the Changrettas now overstepping their boundaries. Tommy and the Peaky Blinders would have to put them in their place for good.

Tommy would make sure that Rose was not a casualty if a war broke out. He was not going to lose her or the war.

“Mum! Come on!” Louis yelled. He was dressed and ready to go, but his mum was taking forever. “What is taking so long?”

“In a minute!” Rose shouted back. She was ready but was busy doing making an Easter basket for Louis. Rose placed the items strategically in the basket. She grabbed the basket and walked down the stairs. “Happy Easter, my little man.”

Rose handed the basket to Louis, who had a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. “What the Hell, Mum? Is this what you have been doing for the last thirty minutes?”

“Yes,” Rose said. “Don’t you like it?”

Louis sighed and placed the basket on the table. “I’m too old for an Easter basket,” he moaned but still looked through the basket to see what he got. “Holy shit! A new iPhone! AirPods!”

“Still want the basket?” Rose questioned sarcastically. “I mean, I’ll take it back if you don’t want it.”

“No, I want it. Mum, thank you,” Louis beamed with happiness and hugged Rose.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re a good kid. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mum.”

Their tender moment was cut short when the doorbell rang. “Who the bloody Hell could that be?” Rose asked, confused.

“It is probably Dad. I told him it would be easier to pick us up,” Louis explained and went to open the door. “Dad! So good to see you.”

Rose stood back, arms crossed, as Louis hugged his father. It was a sight that had Rose feel a pang in her chest. It reminded her that the three of them could have been a family, a typical family. That is what Louis deserved. Nick looked over at Rose and smiled at her. It was a warm and genuine smile. Rose felt like she was sixteen all over again.

“Rosie, you look…beautiful as always,” Nick complimented and went in for a hug but stopped himself. “We can hug, right?’

Rose scoffed, “Of course we can hug, weirdo.” The former lovers embraced, and Rose felt a familiarity, the feeling of being safe and uncertain. She pulled away. “Well, we better get going. Louis, where did you decide we go to eat?”

“Bella Roma. Can we stop by an Apple store after we’re done eating? I want to be able to switch over from my old iPhone to the new one. Mum, got me a new iPhone.” Louis held up his phone to his dad.

“Nice,” Nick admired.

“We’ll see. Come, let’s get going,” Rose ordered and ushered everyone out of the house. Locking up, Rose turned around to see Louis and Nick walked towards a car. “Wow. Is this your car, Nick?”

“Don’t act so shocked. It is a used car, but yes, it is mine,” he told Rose. “It is a 2017 Hyundai Elantra. Got a pretty good price for it too.”

“Very nice,” Rose approved as she got inside, with Louis settling himself comfortably in the back seat.

“Dad has a full-time job now. Isn’t that right, Dad,” Louis spoke up eagerly.

Nick started the car and drove away from the house. It would not be too long before they arrived at the restaurant. “Where do you work?” Rose asked, trying to hide the tone of suspicion in her voice.

“My father took pity on me. I work at his insurance company. It took a while for him to trust me again. But Mum told Dad to give me a chance, especially when I got out of….”

“Prison,” Rose interrupted, and she noticed Nick straighten up in his seat. “That is good to hear. I’m glad your relationship with your parents is better. Better than mine, that is for sure,” she added under her breath.

It was not long until Nick parked near Bella Roma. Once they entered the restaurant, the three were seated quickly. Rose sat on one side, while Nick and Louis sat together on the other side. Rose sat back and watched the interaction between father and son. It was sweet to watch Louis interact with his father. As Rose looked between the two, she was reminded how much they both looked so very much alike. It was eerie. Dark brown hair and brown eyes were two of the features they shared, along with a dimple on their chin.

Soon, their waitress stopped by to get drink orders. “I’ll just have water, thank you,” said Rose. Truthfully, she would have liked a glass of wine to help take the edge off. However, Rose didn’t want anything to hinder her guard up around Nick.

They ended up ordering pizza to share and a plate of arancini as a starter. Louis was the one to dominate the conversation. He was desperately trying to get his parents to interact more. Louis kept praising his dad’s accomplishments to get his mum’s attention. “Mum, did you know dad volunteers to help underprivileged kids. It’s like, what did you refer to it as, a nice version of scared straight?”

Nick chuckled, “Something like that. I figured I could do something good and help guide kids to not make the same mistakes as me.”

Rose bit her tongue. For Louis’s sake, she would be nice. However, she wanted to bite back and ask Nick what he considers mistakes he has made throughout his life. Rose hoped he didn’t view Louis as some mistake. That would set her off. Rose picked at her pizza; she found herself not hungry all of a sudden. Nick and Louis continued to talk amongst themselves about mundane topics such as school, sports, music, etc.

At that moment, Rose’s thoughts drifted to Tommy. She wondered what he was doing, and kind of wished he was with her. That thought caught Rose off guard. She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. She wanted to let him know that she was out with Louis and Nick, along with wishing him a happy Easter. There were times where Rose wished she didn’t have to leave Tommy after their rendezvous in the hotel that Friday. She always felt safe with Tommy. There was a sense of security and a feeling of being protected.

Rose found herself that the more she hung around Tommy, the more she began to trust him, and the more Rose began to like Tommy, which scared her. She was not supposed to develop feelings for him. He was a client, after all. He paid for her services. She willingly allowed him to do unspeakable sexual acts to her. Rose was willing to let Tommy do things she would never allow any other man to do to her. She wondered what made Tommy different compared to someone like Luca or Alfie. Probably because, in a weird sense, Tommy treated Rose like a human being and not some toy. Yes, she knew Tommy tended to be possessive, but he still respected Rose’s boundaries. Rose trusted Tommy not ever to cross them.

“Rosie, are you still here?” Nick asked. He waved his hand in front of Rose’s face to get her attention.

“What?” Rose shook her head to clear her mind. “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Dad asked you about the guy you are currently seeing,” Louis answered. He was frustrated that his dad brought up Tommy.

“Oh yeah, what about Tommy?”

“Just wondered how long you have been seeing this guy? How did you two meeting by the way?” Nick questioned. “I’ll be frank; I was stunned to find out that the mother of my child is dating the one and only Tommy Shelby. Isn’t he an OBE?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders at the question, “I guess he is an OBE. I don’t know; he has yet to show me his medal or whatever it is they get. You know, Tommy is just a guy I met, and we hit it off. Nothing too outrageous.”

“Is it serious?” Again, another question from Nick.

Louis sighed in annoyance, and Rose quickly picked up on her son’s discomfort on the subject of Tommy. “Let’s see if they have dessert,” Rose changed the subject and tried to wave over their waitress.

“Have you met him, Louis?” asked Nick turning towards his son.

Rolling her eyes, Rose interceded, “No, he has not met Tommy.”

“And I don’t want to,” Louis mumbled under his breath.

“Hey, here is an idea, how we don’t talk about Tommy, okay,” ordered Rose, and both guys agreed.

After sharing a tiramisu, Rose had enough and was ready to get back home. Nick offered to pay, and Rose didn’t fight him on it. She figured it was his way of showing he had his own money and could provide a meal for them. With their leftovers boxed up, Rose led the way back to Nick’s car.

“Louis, did you still want to go to the Apple store?” Rose asked him.

“Can we? I thought you wanted to get back home.”

“I do, but we can get the leftovers in the fridge, and I can take you,” replied Rose. Truthfully, she did not want to go. She had enough excitement for one day.

Suddenly, Nick piped in, “I can take him if you feel like staying home.”

Rose turned around to look at Louis, “Is that okay with you?”

“That’s fine,” answered Louis, happily. He was excited to get to spend some alone time with his dad.

Nick parked in front of the house. Rose and Louis and got out of the car. He handed the pizza boxes to Rose and got in the front seat. “I’ll see you late, sweetie. By Nick. Take care.”

“Bye, Rosie. Talk to you later.”

Rose waved them off and walked towards the house. She breathed a sigh of relief upon entry. She went upstairs to undress and put on a pair of comfortable sweats and sweater. All Rose wanted to do was relax.

Looking at the clock, it was only 3:30 PM. Lunch with Nick felt like it went on longer. As Rose was about to settle herself on the couch to watch television, the doorbell rang. “Now, who the Hell is that?”

“Fucking ‘ell, people. It’s Easter Sunday, for God’s sake.” She walked to the front door and opened it to find none other than Tommy Shelby.

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” inquired Rose, totally not expecting it to be him.

Clearing his throat, Tommy shuffled on his feet. He looked down, then up at Rose. “I…I needed to get out and away. It was all too much.”

Rose was confused by what Tommy was telling her. She motioned for Tommy to come inside, and he obliged. “What do you mean it was all too much? Are you okay?”

Guiding Tommy to the couch, Rose sat down next to him. She was concerned since she had never seen Tommy like this before. It was as if he was lost.

Tommy sighed, “I was at my sister’s house. Everyone was there, my brothers, their wives and kids, Aunt Polly and her husband, his kids. Everyone had someone but me. I was alone. Charlie was there, of course, but it if feels like the bond we once had is dwindling. He doesn’t need me. I watched him play with his cousins and interact with his aunts and uncles and realized that my son is better off without me.”

Rose was shocked at Tommy’s words. She scooted closer to him and placed a supported hand on his knee. “Tommy, no. That is not true. Of course, your son needs you. You are his father. You’re his family.”

“He has other family members who can give him the love and attention he deserves. Maybe I should have listened to Grace’s parents and had Charlie live with them.”

“No. Tommy, listen to me,” Rose began and made Tommy look at her. “Charlie is your son. You love him. You told me that you love him. He is a part of you and Grace. If you give Charlie up, you will regret it. Then you truly will lose him.”

“It would be better for him….”

“No, it would not. It would only scar that child for the rest of his life. He will feel that you abandoned him,” Rose stated firmly. “You’re not thinking clearly. It’s a holiday. We all get weird when we are forced to hang around family members. Just stay here for a while and relax.”

Rose found that her hand moved from Tommy’s knee to his hand sitting back on the couch. He was holding on tight as if he was afraid Rose would disappear. She used her other hand to cover his. Rose wanted Tommy to know that she was not going anywhere. Taking in Tommy’s appearance, he was dressed in blue jeans, a black sweater, and black boots. It was the most casual look Rose had ever seen Tommy. She was always used to seeing him in suits. It was a nice change. However, the look on his face was one of sadness and defeat.

“Tell me what you need, Tommy?” Rose asked. She pulled Tommy closer to her and wrapped an arm around him. “Tell me how I can make it better,” she crooned in his ear and ran her fingers through his hair.

What did Tommy want? He was unsure. A part of Tommy didn’t want to feel always in control. That he could let go and be in the moment. That’s what he wanted; he wanted to be in the moment with Rose. Just the two of them, sitting together. “I just want to sit here, with you, Rose. That’s all I want right now. I don’t want to think about anything.”

Kissing the top of Tommy’s head, Rose leaned her head on his. “Okay, we can do that, Tommy. I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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chaletnz · 3 years ago

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Furano Trip

To make the most of my two days off I decided to drive to Furano after finishing work, to ensure I would be able to see the lavender first thing in the morning. I packed up the car and had a shower, then headed off. About 5 minutes after leaving home, I approached a cat sitting calmly in the middle of my lane, I screeched to a stop and the cat didn’t run so I rolled over the top and then it must’ve slunk away. It was enough to give me a fright, I drove a little slower from that point on since I was still in town. Well, after clearing Kutchan town I was on a country road on the way towards the mountains and the second cat was not as lucky... He darted out from a farmhouse and I saw his little ginger face in the split second before he bounced into the right front tyre. There was a bit of a thud but no bump. He ran off into the bushes. Very shakily I pulled over and went to investigate, there was a woman there who could speak English and she said she had seen him run down into the bushes surrounding the farm. I left with an eerie feeling that maybe I should go back home and drive tomorrow, like these cats were meant to be a sign. I drove on for about an hour, my lights on highbeam and my eyes on high alert – I was more concerned about deer now. I pulled over after another hour or so and sent a message to my mum just in case the universe was conspiring, and then the spookiest part... As I was sitting in the car recording my message, a third cat came running towards me! In the middle of nowhere! Very carefully I drove around it and back on to the road and that was thankfully the last cat I saw on the drive. After that it was smooth, I stopped for a late night McDonald’s at Chitose and then drove on until I found a nice big parking lot with a 24 hour toilet. There were bugs everywhere in the heat of a warm summer’s night, flying around the lights of the toilet building. I slept quite well all things considered.

The next morning I woke up around 6am when the heat in the car simply became too much to bear. It was gearing up to be at least 30 degrees today. Somehow the exact time I wanted to use the bathroom there was a cleaning crew surrounding it and I could just quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before leaving. I started by visiting a large campground park that I had intended on staying at last night but didn’t quite reach there, and luckily I hadn’t because it was a crowded carpark with a far worse toilet! I drove up to the first lavender field of the day, Choei Lavender Farm. There was a winding road up the back to reach a mountaintop viewpoint overlooking the lavender and the Kamifurano township. I battled to take some videos with my GoPro that seemed to be struggling in the heat already – by 8am it was already 28 degrees. Japan doesn’t do daylight savings so it means that sunrise is about 3am in summer so the hottest part of the day is earlier in the morning than you would expect. I parked down at the bottom of this farm and took a few more photos although it wasn’t possible to get a good angle of the word “Kamifurano” spelled out in Hiragana in large lettering filled with colourful flowers. I decided to get some gas because Kimbo was already thirsty again, and then arrived at Farm Tomita just before 9am. As Google maps directed me there, she made sure to inform me “this destination will be closed when you arrive” but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait for 10 minutes in the carpark. Well it seemed that the Japanese had the same idea! The main parking lot was already full and the parking attendant waved his lightsaber to guide me right down to the back lot. Furano has great flower fields but not much shade so poor Kimbo had to suffer in the sun while I went for a walk around. By now it was 30 degrees and humid. Japanese people carried umbrellas and wore full length sleeves in the heat. Many people were dressed up in their Sunday best to take family photos in the lavender with a bouquet purchased from the gift shop for 500 yen. Dogs were posed for photos and then taken back into the shade where they could lie down. I took my photos and walked around the perimeter but it was far too hot for me so I had to browse in one of the air conditioned gift shops to cool down. I tried to walk up the side of one of the more shady lavender fields but it was deceivingly steep and I struggled to get halfway! It was time for an ice cream break by 9.30am, and of course I had to try the lavender ice cream again. It was a soft purple colour, with a mild taste and started dripping immediately. Luckily there was a shady seat to sit and eat it and appreciate the views of Kamifurano and the mountains in the distance. In winter Furano is also a hugely popular ski resort that is often paired with Niseko for longer snowsports trips. To distract my thoughts, a child squeaked in with those annoying shoes that sound like you’re standing on a plush toy squeaker with every step. All heads turned to look at the child, who promptly trips up and starts scream-crying uncontrollably. And now my relaxing ice cream break was ruined. I walked around a little bit more and bought a few postcards and lavender things to send home then sat down for a drink and a potato croquette for an early lunch. I had been waiting around for a bit because I wanted to visit a café nearby that opened only at 12pm. It was relaxing anyway to sit and watch Japanese people enjoying the lavender and trying to get the best photos when the entirety of the scene is purple!

I drove to Kamifurano town and parked at the post office as I couldn’t find any free parking lots near the Polar Coffee café, I withdrew some cash and then walked there as a loud alarm sounded through the city – presumably a test as no one seemed even mildly concerned. On Instagram yesterday I’d seen that my colleagues Tim and Nick had come to this café which is owned by a Taiwanese guy (they’re also Taiwanese) and it had a good vibe from their photos so I was determined to try! It was even better than expected, I ordered a flat white and it was not only very Instagrammable but also cheaper than anywhere in Niseko. Cooling down in the air conditioned café was also a highlight. After my coffee I made the long drive to Asahikawa to see a rice field. But not just any rice field, one planted very carefully with different varieties of rice that had coloured shoots. The reason I made this long drive just for a rice field is because the second half of July is the perfect time to view such rice fields - the rice shoots have grown in and are brightly coloured at this time. I was very proud of myself as I directed myself to the field. Although a lot of people online said it was so hard to find, I had no trouble at all. Actually my Google map would have led me exactly there but I followed some signposts instead that said “tanbo art” on them in Japanese, and the reason I was so proud – I could actually read what it said! I was the only person there so I parked where I pleased and climbed up the viewing platform to see the art. Unfortunately the field was so wide that it was hard to take a photo of the entire thing, even with panorama! The design changes each year and this time it was a couple of anime characters, there was also something written way off to the left that wasn’t really visible from the platform and I could only see “2021” and some squashed Japanese characters from the ground. Anyhow, it was a very unique attraction and I was glad I had made the trip to see it. My next destination was the Ningle Terrace; a series of log cabin-esque boutique shops arranged along a wooden walkway in the forest. If my phone wasn’t so terrible with capturing greenery then it would’ve been another Instagram-worthy place to see but other than a cool photos the souvenirs were quite expensive and many of the shops were closed anyway. I took a long drive from Furano to Obihiro for tomorrow’s adventure and stopped at a mall for a KFC dinner. Usually Japanese KFC is great, but this one had unfriendly staff and they gave me a half frozen burger which I had to send back for a fresh one. I bought a few supermarket supplies and then drove towards the small Obihiro airport once it was dark to find a suitable parking space for the night. I passed the airport parking lot as it there were too many floodlights which would make it hard to sleep, further up the road there was a small shoulder so I stayed there in the pitch black instead, with a nice forest on either side. I got out of the car to change into my shorts to sleep but I heard rustling in the bushes and freaked out! Instead I changed inside with the doors locked. I felt a little uneasy falling asleep as there had been searchlights beaming around the sky that I’d assumed were to find intruders sneaking into the abandoned Gluck Kingdom theme park and I worried someone would knock on my car window and tell me to move on. Of course I didn’t want to get caught on my urban exploring but I thought “you would have to be absolutely insane to venture in there at night”. As it turned out though, the lights were for the airport perimeter security and nothing to do with the theme park coincidentally located about a kilometre opposite.

#Japan #Furano

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narukoibito · 4 years ago

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charity work bonus snippet

@the-hinny-shipper

Oh my gosh I love this. Probably not, but is there like a part 2 or something? I know that's meant to be the end, but I need to know what happens next.

Thank you so much for the kind words to charity work, my Muggle AU where Ginny is a famous football player who helps Harry teepee and egg his ex’s house! ♥️

I am actually working on a part 2. Harry and Ginny of this world just couldn’t stop chattering in my head, and there’s about 2.5k words thus far. I know what’s going to happen - I just need to write, edit, and pull the trigger and post it...

But in the meantime, I am sharing a funny little subplot that I wasn’t sure was ever going to see the light of day. It’s a bit of a prequel that I started but then dropped because it didn’t add much to the story...but today I thought, eh, why not share since we can all use some laughs now more than ever. It’s unbetaed, and I’m still iffy on it, but I hope you this will tide you over until I get part 2 posted.

(Also tagging the lovely @isidar-mithrim and @blattgefluester in case you are interested since you were both so amazingly kind toward charity work!)

Summary: This wasn’t what Seamus had in mind when he suggested Ginny do more charity work.

The Prophet landing on the table with a loud thud.

“What’s this?”

“This, Ginny, is the result of your spectacular interview with Miss Rita Skeeter.”

Ginny lifted her chin, pushing the paper away from her and returning to shoveling her porridge down. “So it’s the usual rubbish.”

Seamus pursed his lips, annoyed that once again she wasn’t taking this seriously. “Rubbish it may be, but rubbish that sells.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “So are you here as my publicist or as a friend?”

“Can’t I be both?” He grinned.

She prodded the offensive article with distaste. “What do they say this time?”

“Well, Miss Skeeter took it upon herself to approach all your exes for an ‘expose.’”

“I like to kick a ball for a living. I don’t understand the obsession with my love life.”

“The all-star player who went pro at your age with your looks?” Seamus winked. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Don’t let Dean catch you doing that.”

“He knows I’m a hopeless flirt,” he dismissed cheerfully.

She made a strangled, irritated noise.

“Look, it’s not too bad.” He unfurling the paper with a wince. The headliner, Wonder Girl Weasley Not So Wonderful Girlfriend?, paired with an unflattering photo of Ginny shoving a camera away from her face flashed back at her. “She found some, er, old classmates to go on the record.”

Ginny’s expression darkened. “Record about what?”

“You remember when you stopped people from bullying Luna? And Neville? And when Dean and I got together? Well, somehow Skeeter got in touch with Parkinson, Zabini, Smith... Skeeter may or may not insinuate that you’re…aggressive. Have a bit of a temper.”

Ginny grabbed the paper and began reading loudly, “Since the early days of her youth, Ginevra Molly Weasley, better known as Ginny, the Wonder Girl Weasley, has been bewitching men to do her bidding. We here at The Prophet have long extolled the many virtues of Miss Weasley, but I, your fearless investigator of truth, uncovered a disturbing pattern in how Miss Weasley wraps men around her little finger. What others thought was wit and charm, I have uncovered may actually be the result of a threatening temper. I dare to ask, should we be concerned with Miss Weasley’s trail of broken hearts and perhaps other broken body parts?”

He bit his tongue as Ginny read the part where Rita expounded on Ginny’s "commoner” country-side upbringing” surrounded by her “rowdy” brothers as the source of her “violent streak.”

“I only punched Parkinson once, and that was when she poured punch on Luna!” Ginny scrunched up the newspaper and flung it angrily into the bin. “She goes on about some weird sorcery I have with men.”

“Look, I’ve already called Parvati about getting you on some morning shows, but maybe this time we can agree on some talking points, hmm? And maybe have you do some charity work, show your gentle, caring side. Get some positive press coverage.”

She continued to fume, muttering under her breath, “Skeeter gives witches a bad name.”

“It’ll all pass, Ginny,” Seamus smiled at her sympathetically. “Come back later tonight. Dean’s making roast, and we’ll talk about how to set the narrative straight.”

He sent her on her way, hoping that practice would relieve some of the rage.

Seamus’s head emerged from the oven, his face flushed scarlet. “Ginny, you can’t just go meet random fans and help them commit a crime!”

Even after all these years, she never ceased to amaze them. But this - randomly taking an Instagram follower’s request to egg and teepee a house? This was one of Ginny’s more...creative ideas.

“That’s right,” Dean agreed, taking the roast and plating it. “For all you know he could wank to your posters.”

“Well then you’d know he has good taste,” she said, dripping her finger into the cooling gravy.

“Ginny,” they sighed together in exasperation and pushing her away from the kitchen counter.

“What happened between this morning and now?”

“You’re always saying I should do more charity,” she said pointedly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Seamus wagged a finger at her. She folded her arms across her chest, staring them down (which was quite the accomplishment, considering how much taller they were).

“We can’t let you do this.”

“When has anyone ever let me do anything?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Seamus and Dean shared a long look, no doubt both of them remembering that one time she broke into the headmaster’s office to steal back the replica toy sword Ron was stupid enough wear to school as part of his knight costume for Halloween.

“Look,” Dean said carefully, leading her into the dining room as Seamus followed, plates of food laden in his arms. “We know you’re more than capable to taking care of yourself.”

“Damn straight,” she said, but she let him gently nudge her into her seat.

“But as your friends — ”

“One of whom would like to stay gainfully employed,” Seamus cut in, playing the food on the table.

“—and who would absolutely be murdered by your brothers if they ever found out, we want to make sure you’re…thinking straight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, we know,” Seamus said, deadpan. “But I really don’t need another article supporting this theory that you’re aggressive. If you beat the bloke up and the press catches wind of it…”

“I’m going. I put this idea into his head. And look at him,” she said, holding up a picture of H-P-Lightening, smiling sheepishly into the camera.

They examined the photo skeptically as Ginny tucked into dinner. Maybe while they were distracted, she could nick an extra bit of roast.

“He’s cute,” Seamus pointed out.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Not the point.”

"Doesn’t hurt,” Dean said.

“He and I share a similar goal: to serve some much-needed justice in the world. And since I can’t go about egging Michael’s house without it ending up on the Sunday papers, I can at least help someone else.”

“His hair is an absolute disaster, but it somehow works on him,” Seamus continued, ignoring her.

“Those green eyes,” Dean said appreciatively.

“Plays football too,” Seamus said, clicking through to some videos. “He’s fit.”

Now they were both giving Ginny a look with entirely new context.

“It’s not like that,” she said breezily.

“Maybe she’s hoping he wanks to her poster,” Seamus snickered, not believing her for a second.

“He could wind up in trouble if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“And you’re an expert?” Dean asked.

“I’m a Weasley.” She smiled wickedly, and they laughed. “Besides, who am I to ignore a gentleman in distress?”

“Okay, fine, if we can’t stop you —”

She snorted.

“—then we’re coming with you.”

“What?”

“We’ll watch from a safe distance,” Seamus assured her, Dean nodding along. “Just to make sure you don’t end up in the papers.”

“We will help you hide the body,” Dean said.

Ginny looked from one to the other. They were grinning at her, half eager and half earnestly. She didn’t need them to come. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. But, suppose this turned out to be something she wasn’t expecting…

“Fine, but —” she added quickly when they started to wiggle their eyebrows at one another “—the moment, and I mean the very moment I give you the signal, you better make yourself scarce.”

Dean and Seamus beamed across the table. “Whatever you want, luv!”

“You can’t stay if you’re going to be this obvious.” Ginny growled.

“Obvious? We’re perfectly inconspicuous,” Seamus bristled.

“You brought binoculars,” she said dryly, placed her hands on her hips. “And a bat."

“Told you she wouldn’t like that,” Dean said.

“I won’t use the bat. It’s just in case we need to scare him off.”

Ginny and Dean gave him a look.

“What? This person could be tricking us!”

When Ginny’s glare made his back hair stick on end, Seamus relented.

“Fine, we’ll cross the street,” Seamus said, taking Dean by the arm. When they turned around, Ginny was still scowling, whipping out her phone and texting them furiously.

You are going to have to HIDE.

There’s nothing strange about us being here! Seamus typed back.

You’re two random, loitering blokes, ready to stalk or bean someone. If you’re going to stay, you’re going to hide. Ginny over at them critically. Behind those bushes.

“Ugh,” Seamus groaned, crouching down and behind the bushes with his boyfriend dutifully following. He swatted at a twig that was unpleasantly digging into the side of his bum.

Happy? he texted her back.

Delirious. Remember. You both better leave when I give the signal. Or else.

A shudder went down his spine, knowing very well what Ginny was capable of.

“This isn’t what I imagined our cozy Friday evening being.”

“You don’t really mind,” Dean said, smiling knowingly.

Seamus huffed and peered into the binoculars rather than reply. Yes, he was worried about this blowing up in his face (things often did), but he couldn’t deny he was a bit curious. He had never seen Ginny look that way at a photo before.

“You just want a front row seat,” Dean teased.

“Shut — oh, I think that’s him!”

They watched with anticipation as a lanky, bespectacled bloke with tousled black hair ascended the train station steps. He seemed to be deeply brooding as Ginny approached him. Through the binoculars, Seamus watched as this fellow, Harry something-or-other, looked up, eyes wide, and nearly tripped over the last step.

“They seem to be hitting it off,” Dean said as Ginny and Harry laughed before she handed him a hoodie.

They began walking, and Seamus scrambled to follow. “Come on.”

He kept an eye out for anyone else who might be around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone who recognized or followed Ginny.

“I think we can leave the bat.” Dean chuckled, swiping the binoculars for a closer look himself.

They trailed the other couple from across the street, doing the best they could to be inconspicuous. Ginny and this bloke looked good together. He looked oddly charming with his wild hair and glasses, but it was really the way he looked at Ginny at set Seamus at ease. They kept talking, laughing, smiling at one another. Seamus hadn’t seen her laugh so much since…he couldn’t even remember.

Was that — was Ginny Weasley blushing?

After several minutes, Seamus and Dean stopped and looked at each other.

Ginny had completely forgotten about them.

“Do you think if we leave now, we can still catch the last half of the game?”

“Yeah,” Seamus said, taking Dean’s hand as they headed home.

Maybe their Friday evening plans could be salvaged after all.

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strongsassysexysloane · 5 years ago

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Take me for a Ride, Jack...7

Wow, this part was written so long ago.. I didnt realise it took me this long to get to the part that inspired this whole story. Time to get greasy.

. . . .

You eventually turn around and head back to the market, Jack tugs you back to the cheese stall, not before she stops in at a stall full of scarves and hats. You drop her hand and watch her hands run over a few scarves she likes and purchases just one before you move next door to the cheese stall.

"Pick your favourites and we'll find a spot to go eat." She rests her hand on your lower back as you scan the selection

"I love that you think I'm sharing this cheese with you." She laughs and you buy almost double what you would usually get because you have a hard time sharing food. The man prepares it on a platter for you.

"You really have a problem sharing food?" She laughs sitting beside you at the beach side table.

"Oh, J. You have so much to learn." You smirk and dig into your platter. The meal is spent in mostly silence and a few moans of pleasure from the food on your end and you can see the affect it's having on Jack which only spurs you on more before she grabs your thigh tightly.

"Stop, now." She purrs into your ear and just like that you're undone. "Thank you." She clearly saw your resolve change and loosens her grip on your thigh, moving it slightly higher before going back down again.

"And im the tease?" You scoff and finish off the last of the cheese.

"You started it. I just finished it." She smirks, packing up the platter and picking it up before walking over to place it in the trash can. "Want to see anything else?"

"Not really." You smile, watching Jack walk back over to you and she reaches out to take you hand. You take another walk around the markets. Happy to just hold her hand in yours and look over the stalls closing up. Then you cross the road and stroll down the shop fronts, looking in a few shops. The second hand book store takes Jack's attention. She picks out a few books and buys them.

"I need a few more for my collection." She smiles swinging her shopping bags by her side. "Ready to start heading home?" The sun was slowly setting, the cool breeze brushing your faces. The small walk back to the bike was too short for your liking but you slid onto the bike behind Jack and held onto her waist all the way back to DC.

There was a bit of DC traffic heading back into the city. Everyone coming back into DC from their day out on the coast. You laughed when Jack took the back roads to your place, prolonging the ride. But it still wasn't long enough. She pulled up to your curb and you both hopped off.

"That was a lovely day. Almost perfect." You smiled, hooking up your helmet to the back of the bike.

"Almost?" Jack huffed, hooking her pinkie in yours and tugging you close.

"Yeah.." You smirked, resting your hand on her waist, while her other hand and pinkie was still hooked with yours.

"Ah so what Torres mentioned is true." Her smirk growing more smug by the second. "You like to drive but me driving seems to be a loophole."

"You are a loophole in my brain, Jack." You both chuckle. You shake your head at the way those silly words came out. Hoping to god it somehow sounded cute.

"Smooth." Jack leans in and her lips graze the corner of your mouth on the way to dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You close you eyes, enjoying the lingering touch of her lips against your skin before it's gone too soon.

"Today was almost perfect for me too." She whispers and you open your eyes, to see hers teasing you.

You huff out a laugh and squeeze her hand before dropping it and watch her walk back and slide onto her bike. "Maybe it'll be perfect next time."

"Next time? You think I'll let you ride this girl?" She winks, sliding her hips slowly back and forth causing you to drop your head back and laugh. "I left that one wide open."

"So wide." You laugh and look back at Jack. "I'm sure I can convince you." You wink.

Jack laughs. "I'll chat with you later and see you at work tomorrow."

"Drive safe." You just get a wink in return and watch Jack ride off down the street. Smiling all the way up to your apartment, running through the events of the day. It was perfect and you can't stop smiling. Jack does text you when she gets home, it feels so couplely for you and for once that doesn't frighten you. With Jack you feel light, like you can float and nothing can hold you down. Even Jamie's pokes and jokes don't break your mood. The days events finally catch up with you and sleep finds you easy for once.

You catch a case on Tuesday that get's all your attention but Jack is unfortunately held up with helping Vance and another team with a case for the next week so you hardly see each other. The case drags on and you don't end up catching the bad guy until the following Monday. Gibbs thankfully gives the team a few days off but Jack is still held up with other team's cases that you don't see each other, even texting is minimal. Thursday and Friday is just catching up on reports. Thankfully no new case which means the team goes for drinks Friday evening after work, only Nick, Ellie and you end up staying the longest, Kasie and Jimmy too tired to carry on, before you head home around 2200.

Before you leave Ellie suggests joining her in her kick boxing class on Sunday. You give her a tentative yes unsure if you'll remember in the morning. Also leaving it open to see if Jack wants to do something. Ellie smiles, holding a hand over Nick's teasing lips.

"Have a good weekend, chat on Monday in the gym." Ellie waves goodbye and you see her release Nick's mouth once you are out of the bar.

Saturday morning rolls around and you lay in bed longer than you should. Over thinking about texting Jack, asking if she wants to go out. You had coffee with her twice during the week, nice chats, more hand holding and another kiss on the cheek. She even came into the bullpen before she left Friday afternoon to say goodbye to everyone and gave you an obvious extra smile.

You make yourself a coffee, fiddling with your phone in your fingers. Jamie notices. You check your phone for the tenth time in probably an hour. You bite the bullet and send her a good morning text to which you get a reply a few minutes later.

'G'morning to you too. I'm working on my girl (bike) if I don't reply straight away.' You laugh at her clarification.

'I'm sure she appreciates the attention.' You can't help it, she brings out the sass in you.

You manage to make a cup of coffee and slightly burn some toast before you get a reply. Making yourself comfortable on the couch across from Jamie who's watching some medical show on tv.

'You jealous? ;)'

"How's Jack?" Jamie asks tearing her eyes away from the tv and sipping her cup of tea. You notice she has bags under her eyes, decent ones and she's wearing scrubs.

"You going in for over time?" You look slightly concerned, it's meant to be her day off, she didn't come home until 0300 last night and it's only just hit 0800.

"Yeah, Patricia called in sick. So i'm doing her shift and Tyson is taking mine this evening."

You nod accepting that at least she got someone to take her shift and not have to pull a double.

"So how's Jack?"

You smile and look back down at your phone, still trying to find the right reply but you know anything would be fine. "She's good, cheeky as hell." You take a bite of toast.

"So what's the situation?" You look at Jamie wide eyed at the question she just asked.

"Ummm.." You look at the tv then down at your phone, not really sure how to answer but wanting an answer yourself, hell you hadn't even kissed on the lips yet.

"Haven't talked about it?" You shake your head and Jamie accepts your wordless answer. She turns her attention back to the tv. One thing you love about your sister is she stops asking when you need her too, most of the time.

'You're welcome to come and watch.' You smile and hop up from the couch, finishing off your toast on the way to the kitchen.

'I might just do that.' You hit send and nurse the cup of coffee as you go to your bedroom to get changed.

You turn down Jack's street and pull your car up out from of her building. You notice the bike down the side of the driveway and smile as you see Jack lying beside her. Walking up the driveway you stop for a second when Jack stands up seeing you. Your breath falters seeing her in front of you in long sleeved overalls, they're dark denim in colour and she has the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the cuffs turned up at her ankles. Your eyes are drawn to the deep v at her breasts where she's clearly undone a few too many buttons but you aren't complaining as the v dips deep between her breasts.

Jack smirks at your pause and you kick your brain back into gear walking up to her. "Hi."

"That didn't take you too long." She leans in and you hold your breath but she kisses your cheek.

"No traffic." You shrug, dragging your eyes down her body again, not ashamed that she can see you looking.

"You like?" She does a twirl and you laugh.

"You get all the grease from the bike on you?"

Jack is covered in grease. It's sexy as hell but also funny. She's got some splotched across her face, neck, arms, hands and even a smudge on her left ankle.

"She's a tough girl." Jack turns slightly, looking at her bike.

You follow her gaze to the subject of conversation. There's a mechanic trolly on the ground that Jack was lying on when you pulled up, a large red tool box (is there another colour for a tool box?) and a bunch of dirty rags scattered around.

"What's her problem today?" You walk over to take a closer inspection and Jack goes into detail of what she's been doing but you only understand half of it. As she gets back down onto her back on the trolley you find a spot on the garden wall beside her work area, giving you a good angle to watch Jack. You happily watch as she works on her bike for almost an hour, she chats with you in between grunts and swears. You find that her swearing is kind of a turn on, well this whole situation of her in those overalls, grease and her hair tied up in a bun with a dark blue and white poker-dot scarf wrapped around her head is making you hot.

You wonder what it's like to kiss her as she works under her bike, it's definitely crossed your mind several times since the markets but the moments seemed to fly by. Would she be gentle and slow or deep and fast. You bite your lower lip between your teeth and Jack looks over at you.

"You're making it very hard for me to concentrate on my task." She slides to the side and sits up, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead and you smirk at the new line of grease across her brow, understanding now how easily she got into this mess. "I just smudged more grease didn't I?" You nod and she stands up walking over to where you are perched on her garden wall. You watch her eyes darken and a mischievous smile begins to grow across her lips but it's too late for you to escape (not that you wanted to), she closes the gap between you, placing her hands on the wall either side of your hips. Your knees bumping into her lower belly, at least that's what you're telling yourself is where they are touching and you open your legs for her to slide in closer.

"You like me betw-" Her smart ass comment is cut off by your lips meeting her smug smile and she moans, she's kissing you back. Your hands wrapping around her neck and the tips of your fingers playing with the hairs at the base of her neck that have come loose from her working.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip and you make a whimpering sound parting your lips to give her the access she asked for. Your mind goes blank and all you can think and feel is her. You feel her tongue glide along yours, teeth clash, her hands grip at your hips and her left hand goes around to cup the side of your butt. It's too soon but she snaps back heaving for air but you don't let her go too far, your hands still tangled in her hair. elbows resting on her shoulders.

"Been wanting to do that for a while." You let out between breaths and Jack smiles, leaning in to peck your lips but you hold her close, dragging the kiss out longer, sucking her bottom lip between yours and releasing it with a pop.

"Me too." Jack breathes and kisses your cheek with a laugh.

"You've transferred the grease to me, haven't you?" You let one hand fall from it's spot tangled in the back of her hair and run it along your cheek where Jack was looking but you think it only made it worse because Jack just laughs harder. "How about helping a girl out?"

"Why would I do that?" She closes the small gap between you again and kisses you with more passion than the first time, she brings out sounds you don't think you've ever made before. Something between a whimper, mew and sigh which only spurs her on and she nips at your bottom lip before pulling away. "If I look half as sexy as you with a little grease on your face, I'd have kissed you hours ago."

You smile, your cheeks going a slight pink and run your thumb across Jack's cheek, smearing the grease a little more but bringing your thumb back to your face, dotting it on your nose. "Trust me, I'm shocked with my self control. Although I wanted to kiss you when you picked me up for breakfast."

"I wanted to kiss you when we spent three hours instead of one searching through profiles." She squeezes your hip and goes to step out of your embrace but your legs come up and slightly hook behind her knees and she slightly stumbles into you. "Let me finish this one last thing, I promise it will only take ten minutes and then we can kiss, cuddle or go for a ride, whatever you want." Jack smiles and you bring your hand up to your chin pretending to think about an answer but then realise you've smudged more grease onto your face in the process.

"Might want to shower first." You add, dropping your legs to let her go and you see her huge smirk. "I didn't-"

"I know." She pecks your lips and you see her smile, it melts all your nerves away. "Ten minutes."

You squeeze her hand before dropping it. You watch her work, she bugs you again for chewing your bottom lip but you cant help it, she's dam attractive working on her bike and thankfully she sticks to her ten minute promise. You follow her up to her apartment, quickly realising this is the first time you've actually been inside her place and your heart skips a beat stepping through the threshold. It's very minimal, she has a beach style vibe as you guessed there might be as she misses the ocean so much. She offers you a seat in her lounge room and tells you to get comfortable while she takes a quick shower.

You take the opportunity of being alone in her space to wander around instead. Her living area is simple, a two seater tan linen couch with a huge circle armchair to match. There's a small oval glass coffee table with a few files spread across it and a few large shells scattered across. It's an open style area and you walk into the middle section where the four seater dining table is tucked into the corner behind the couch then onto the kitchen, its small but you can see dishes and utensils taking up most of the bench space. Taking a turn you go through the doorway into the hallway, to your left you hear the shower and see into Jack's bedroom which she's left the door open to but you turn right deciding you'll hopefully get the opportunity to see that another time.

There's four photo-frames equally spaced along the wall, all with pictures of a desert landscape. It isn't until you walk up to the last one at the end of the hall and near the front door that you see a much younger Jack with her Wingo's and you reach up and trace your fingers down the side of the frame with a sad smile. After you spoke to Jack about your time in Afghanistan you did take the liberty and did a search, asked an old friend in the Army if he recognised the name and he didn't share much but said a mission went horribly wrong with her and her team. You didn't want to know anything else even if he did want to tell you. You wanted Jack to tell you when she was ready.

"That was my team." Jack said softly beside you and you almost jumped out of your skin. "Sorry, saw you were deep in thought and couldn't resist." She smiles and wraps her arm around your waist. "Come with me." She tugs you down the hall and into the bathroom. "Sit." She motions to the side of the bath. You look at her confused and she just nods in the direction of the bath again.

"Wha-" You stop when you see her squeeze the wash cloth, water dripping out and brings it to your face and you laugh. "Thank you." She wipes away the grease you'd forgotten about.

"Might get certain looks if you go out like this.." She smiles, you feel the nice cold cloth travel down your neck and you close your eyes enjoying the feeling although you sweat there was no grease there.

"Gave up caring what people thought a long time ago." The cloth leaves your skin and you open your eyes to a questioning looking Jack. "Well mostly."

Jack turns away to wash the cloth in the sink but you happily stay seated, watching her. She catches you in the mirror and just smiles at you.

"So we are going out?" You try to not sound disappointed but you could happily spend the day wrapped in her arms, biting your lip bottom lip.

"I'd call us 'Going Out'" She raises her hands in the bunny ears formation to make her point.

Rolling your eyes at her. "Not what I meant and you know it.." But you blush anyway, her eyes havent left yours, looking at your through the mirror. You subconsciously bring your bottom lip between your teeth.

"I want to give her a test run to see how she goes then we can cuddle the day away." She winks at you. "If you keep biting that lip..." She doesn't finish what she was thinking, instead she shows you, turning around to you again, cupping your face with her hands and sucking you lip into her mouth, drawing a moan from deep within you and she kisses you. No one has kissed you with so much passion, ferocity and tenderness before. You surrender to her and she tugs you up, standing, you wrap your arms around her neck, never breaking the kiss.

The kiss ends and you can't not look at her, her eyes glaze over and you assume yours are as well. "So ..umm .. that ride." You breathe, the words no louder than a whisper.

Jack just nods, softly pecking your lips again before dropping her hands. "Yeah." She breaths

"Come on, baby." You smile, liking the name flowing from your lips. You grab her hand and lead her out of the bathroom and down the hall. She grabs her keys along the way and you walk out of the apartment.

. . . .

Well? I kept re reading, adding, subtracting, knew i needed to post it before i re wrote it completely. Hope its ok.. 7 is my lucky number, funny how that worked out.

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #fanfic

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curious-minx · 4 years ago

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Left Behind In The Halloween Parade: Late Review of Bob’s Burgers And The Simpsons.

The First Sunday of November, and the Last Sunday of the Trump and Biden election, found Hulu finally uploading the Bob’s Burgers and Simpsons Halloween episodes. So in the spirit of taking your sweet ass time that is exactly what I did with this review. The Bob’s Burgers Halloween episode is probably the weakest of the series, a series that is practically a Hallmark card company in terms of the amount of holiday-inspired content they have churned out. Episode “Heartbreak Hotel-oween” isn’t a particularly offensive in any way it just fails to live up to Halloween episodes such as my personal favorites Season 8 “The Wolf of Wharf Street,” which remains one of the most visually stunning episodes of the series, and Season 4, the series’ second Halloween episode,“Fort Night,” which has incredibly gruesome stakes and the most satisfying entry in the Louise versus Millie feud.

“Heartbreak Hotel-oween” is still ultimately pretty good and though it took a second viewing to fully appreciate it I do like watching the Belcher children deftly sail through the world of adults. The tantalizing plot thread of a Bob’s Burgers Delivery service is dangled and I would like to see more Delivery based plots. Getting these characters into different areas and expanding upon the ambitious Jersey shore town. Having the kids deliver a burger to an older woman using the burger as a lure for her seance is flattened against a brown and forgettable after thought of a hotel. Everything with the Belcher kids is good and interesting and with the help of Andy Daly voicing the Hotel Manager; Lindsey Stoddart doing Quarantine duty and voicing multiple characters including the old woman Dolores conducting the seance, and Loren Bouchard Home Movies collaborator Melissa Robbins stops by as a bystander character as well.

The episode starts getting in its own way with the adults blood bank centric B-plot. The entire plot is given in a single exchange with Teddie being excited about donating blood and everyman Bob with his everyman O-negative blood finds giving blood nauseating and gross. That’s it. That’s the whole plot and besides the blood banker workers being dressed up as vampires there are no other comedic games being played and it is total unmemorable fluff, which has been a common issue for the ongoing series. One thing this episode does right is at least get Bob, Linda and Teddie out of the restaurant and into a new environment. A lot of the verbal exchanges between Bob, Linda and Teddie feel a lot more stilted due to Covid recordings and the lack of non-scripted banter is sorely missed. I have noticed this season having more John H. Benjamin monologue Bob by himself moments, which only work when Bob’s imagination is in full flight. Where was the talking bag of Bob’s blood? Hell I wouldn’t even had objected to hearing a dang song sung by the vampires to help soothe Bob into giving blood or something beyond: Bob doesn’t like giving blood because it makes him woozy, he gives blood and get’s woozy.

Overall this is a perfectly serviceable episode: three Ghost-baiting cheeseburgers out of five.

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Intermission.

Fox is certainly using the Loren Bouchard & Molyneux sisters brand like a blood bag with the recent announcement of the new series The Great North. Wendy Molyneux is a frequent writer, (executive) story editor since Bob’s Burgers inception. She is the writer of “The Wolf of Wharf Street” and the episode of Bob’s Burgers I have watched the most - “There's No Business Like Mr. Business Business,” because I am a cat fanatic, John Oliver fan, and have been the pet companion of a standard poodle exactly like Snoodle named Faust that I love dearly. Basically, I am excited for this show. Molyneux is also a deeply connected collaborator with Megan Mullally writing on all 74 episodes of Mullally’s forgotten by the ages The Megan Mullally Show. A show according to Wikipedia’s citation of Fox News, “viewers were disappointed to find out that Megan is not anything like Karen in real life,” and if there is any white woman out there that is an anti-Karen it is Mullally. Mullally is not the focus of the show but her more visible and commercially accessible husband Nick Offerman is finally being anointed into the annals of TV Dads. With his three sons voiced by Paul Rust, Will Forte and National Treasure Aparna Nancherla and sole daughter voiced by Bob’s Burgers alum Jenny Slate, who recently honorably stepped down from a lucrative tv series Big Mouth deal like the real champ that she is. Mullally will show up as Jenny Slate’s character’s boss andThe cast is undeniable the backdrop of Alaska has a lot of promise for elaborate or interesting set pieces. I am ready for this show! Will this be Bob’s Burgers Futurama? That’s probably a vicious hex based on how Futurama was infamously jerked around by Fox. FOX has already given the show a promising two-season deal, which is already a lot better than what Netflix did for Tuca and Bertie. Faint nowhere discussions of the Bob’s Burgers movie were also mentioned in an interview with Bouchard who has a cantankerous “theater release only” policy, which bums out a little, but I would much prefer they take as long as possible. The Bob’s Burgers movie cannot end up carrying out the Simpson movie curse.

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I am no Simsons scholar. I could not give you an active ranking of favorite Tree House of Horror episodes. I could tell you that I really like Bart as an Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven. You don’t need to be Simpsons scholar to safely state that “Treehouse of Horror XXXI” should be ashamed to show its “funny face.” For starters the entire appeal of the anthology style of storytelling has been completely deflated by having two of the previous episodes in this season being gimmicky non-standard episodes. The only positive thing I can say about this episode is that it is an important teaching tool for what the most broken and shittiest, laziest satire imaginable would look like and the 2020 Election cold opening is actually pretty solid. All of the good will earned by the strong opening is completely squandered starting with an inexplicably CGI Toys Story sketch. I am assuming the animation department went with CGI because the source material is CGI. The CGI is really bad and makes me really miss the 3D models of Simpsons Hit And Run and perfectly charming The Simpsons Game. Instead this sketch’s particular animation looks like the animators were most inspired not by Pixar’s clean and craftsmen like CGI models but were going for more of a Fanboy & Chum Chum look. A Toy’s Story parody in this day and age is asinine in its laziness, but it’s still an evergreen territory. A good Toy’s Story parody is possible, but simply having Bart play out the role of Toy Story’s Sid except he gets lobotomized by his own toys. I did appreciate the writer’s making the explicit moral of the story to not buy toys, which for a Disney product like the Simpsons is pretty rich.

Behold! The last recorded instance of a quality Toys Story satire from China, IL

The next two parodies go down slightly better simply because they aren’t sporting that eye bleeding animation but paying homage to Enter The Spider-verse and Russian Doll/Happy Death Day 2U in 2020 feels just as dated as Toy Story. What kind of fool is still writing about Russian Doll in 2020? The Enter the Homer-verse sketch is at least ambitious and showcases how masturbatory the show has come whenever it is showcasing Dan Castellaneta’s various vocal talents. I get it dude, you like having dump trucks of money given to you for barely making an effort and doing Hannah Barbara impersonations that sound more like a bad Woody Allen. Regardless, this is still the one sketch that makes the most attempt to have comedic games with its multiple iterations of Homer and even throwing out some alternative universe Burns and Smithers for good measure. The final third Russian Doll sketch that let’s you know that this sketch is more Russian Doll than Happy Death Day by using the same exact Harry Nilsson “Gotta Get Up” piano riff. This sketch had potential but once again the show writers and creatives seem to only indulge the worst possible instincts and cast Lisa as the lead of the sketch. So that means we get to watch this 8 soon-to-be 9 year old girl and fellow child Nelson get murdered in a variety of banal and brutal ways, and it’s just not fun or pleasant to watch. The obvious choice is an unexpected Springfield resident and if it has to be a Simpson having Marge or one of her sisters be the Nadia surrogate makes far more logical sense and Marge’s birthday would carry more emotional weight.

Reminder to myself to check out this lost late series entry where Natasha Lyonne is the voice of Krusty’s daughter.

I completely understand why The AV Club canceled their coverage of The Simpsons. The whole series has a very masochistic and sadistic pull and tug between creatives and fans. The sweet and simple souls of Den of Geek are still reviewing the Simpsons and offer a far more favorable review: https://www.denofgeek.com/tv/the-simpsons-season-32-episode-4-review-treehouse-of-horror-xxxi/. Google results also yield one another publication reviewing this current season published on medium that has been taken by for violating medium rules. Will the Simpsons be coming for me next?

Skip this episode! Judging by the synopsis of the season’s next ep finding the Simpsons, once again, finding themselves somewhere other than Springfield is looking to be another skippable entry. I want to be proven wrong! The latter day Simpsons seasons usually have a memorable or decent episode here or there. So far the only thing remarkable about this season is how much it wants to try to be different and think outside of the Springfield box but in the process give the season an overwhelming sense of hollowness. I shall forge ahead with my coverage, because I am either a masochist or a sadist depending on the weather.

#The Simpsons #Bob's Burgers #TV series #tv review #Halloween #megan mullally #nick offerman #will forte #Paul rust #aparna nancherla #Andy daly #Natasha lyonne #toys story #spiderverse #russian doll #The Great North

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