#skip cordial jr

[lunetaj]

The new house is finally built and the Cordials can move in.

Brandi is extremely grateful to her friends for what they have done for her and her children.

What will it be like to start living a new life, moreover, without Skip?

(2016)

[emmelfish]

So when I took that Which Sims 2 Family Are You quiz I legitimately got the Goths. Vintage. But now I feel this pressure to have my moronic gameplay match their illustrious reputation. It’s okay though – I think we can all agree that the one thing that covers all bases and absolves me of any sins here is Mortimer Goth’s Accidental Default outerwear.

IT’S BLOODY PERFECT.

Mort’s also got a great car (🎵 yeah what’s wrong with it today, I used to have one too maybe you’ll come and have a look) which he’s using to take Dina out on a date to a fancyplace. (Melissa Fancey, live up to your name and have some respect for Londoste for crying out loud, it should be a place where sims automagically spin into their formalwear upon entry.)

Yo Brenda! Nice to see you again! This is quite a different gig to Oresha Family Dining, how on earth do you keep up with the competing personalities of the restaurants you’re hosting at?

Brenda:

Or whatever the Sim equivalent of cocaine is.

Mortimer: Good evening Brenda. The coziest, most romantic table you have?

Brenda: Of course Mr Goth. Shall I take your coats?

Mortimer: NEVER!

Either they keep the temperatures in Londoste super low or Morts and Digs are hella attached to their outerwear. And who wouldn’t be? They both look fly as balls.

Brenda: Voila! Right next to the main entrance so everybody walking in bumps right into the back of Dina’s chair. Great view of Melissa Fancey’s flame pants.

Mortimer: Excellent, I think Dina will enjoy an audience for what I have in mind.

Kristen, did you just... follow these two here? Are you stalking them? Still can’t find your way back to Strangetown?

Kristen: Are you kidding? I love this place, it’s the same as my last name, give or take an N, D, and an O.

Dina: So! Champers?

Get used to making that face Mort, she’s a Fortune sim. Of course she’s going to order the most expensive fizz on the menu if someone else is paying.

DINA IS PRECIOUS AND MUST BE PROTECTED. She wants a Baked Alaska for her dinner! A Baked Alaska! As a meal! I want to hug her.

Melissa: Fanceypants, Fanceypants –

YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING, TOWNIE

Alien server: So tonight our specials are tartlets of wild mushrooms with black truffles, or our signature dish of green peas in several different textures with poached egg. Our lobster thermidor is served with a side of ceviche, and cod roe foam.

Dina: *wants Baked Alaska*

Mortimer: You look familiar, you wouldn’t happen to be one of PT9′s brood would you?

While these cuties toast, please enjoy the Deep V walking by that is Ajay Loner’s chest. I’m always at a loss as to how to dress that guy. He has a LTW to reach the top of the Dance career in my game, so I can only imagine he’d want to show off his bod in the most unfashionable way possible.

Guys, that food came pretty quickly. I’d worry about Londoste’s cooking techniques if I were you.

Mortimer: Enjoying your Baked Alaska, sweetheart?

Dina: Just taking a water break, then you’ll really see me go to town on this bad boy.

And she wasn’t joking.

Mortimer: Here darling, you really ought to have some savory food as well tonight.

I find it adorable and hilarious that feeding Dina some of his food built more Cuisine enthusiasm for Mort.

Now, just look how smooth this cad is:

Mortimer: *holds Dina’s hand* I just want you to know...

Mortimer: ... that you look very sweet in your newsboy cap. I hear they’re making a comeback.

Dina: They sure are!

I’m not going to make him sing the ‘I’ve Got Something In My Front Pocket’ song like Darren did but Mort’s almost bringing it on himself with this pose.

Hahahahaha it’s only from this angle that I see Dina’s already destroyed half her Baked Alaska. Oh Digs, I don’t think that’s earrings or a charm bracelet in there... is this the moment you’ve been waiting for?

Mortimer: Please let her like it, she has the most expensive taste of any sim I’ve ever met...

Kristen: You look a lot like my roommate Chloe. You might know her, she’s really annoying... and hot... and super annoying. Hey, are you doing anything after this?

Dina: Oh oh oh! Cushion-cut black diamond, three carats easy, platinum band? Have you been reading my diary??

Mortimer: So I take it you like it?

Alien server looks like she may be considering Kristen’s offer of a date in the background there.

DAMMIT I missed the throwing the box behind the head again

Dina: Is it okay if I call Nina and tell her to dust off the giant wedding binder?

Mortimer: ...You have a giant wedding binder?

While these two discuss their impending nuptials, let’s take a look at some of the other diners Londoste has attracted.

Goopy GilsCarbo can’t believe his luck that he’s at a bar next to Kim Cordial...

Probably a good thing Crumplebottom is on the end there preventing him from making any dumb moves. Not that she needs to be, Kim could turn him into a roach if she wanted of course.

I’m gonna come out and say it. I’ve held it in too long. I LOVE TRISHA TRAVELLER’S FACE. She has a glorious, wonderful face, and her eyes are a marvel. However, she produces (spoiler alert) some, shall we say... interesting-looking children. I had her and Trent procreate a son and during his toddlerhood he looked like one of those little naked Troll dolls people used to collect with the gems in their belly and the brightly colored hair. Or, if we’re talking ’90s toys, a Boglin. You’ll see him soon of course.

Nice to see PT9 is maintaining the tradition of turning up at every single restaurant I play.

#JustFortuneSimThings – treat yo self to lobster thermidor when you’re dining solo, like Ajay ‘Not Just A Clever Name’ Loner.

We’ve already got a bad witch here to bring rain and roaches to a community lot in the form of Kim, so when I saw all kinds of drama outside I was glad to see it was a Grand High Vampire causing it instead. Is that the famous 18th face template I’m seeing there?

Dina: Um Mort Mort, there’s a guy over there who I’m pretty sure is a spy but looks like he’s really bad at pretending not to be a spy. Shall we call someone?

Mortimer: No my ray of sunshine, let’s dance instead!

Kimberley: Hahaha, enjoy your DRIVE, losers! This is how all the cool kids get around!

Dina: *is mad about burglary for the 8,475th time*

Oh my! I totally forgot I slipped into the Beakers’ a while back, let Circe get pregnant and throw up every three seconds, and then pretty much let her pregnancy go on forever. I really hope it’s twins so that Susie and Skip Jr have two rivals in the hellspawn stakes.

PT9, I don’t know who that is you’re lusting over, but it’s not Jenny, therefore stop.

This technically isn’t possible without getting posey, but it really looks like Dina’s admiring her new ring there. Homeward bound for these two lovebirds! How ironic that poverty-stricken Brandi and Darren paid their bill in full, while Mortina here just waltzed out without dropping a penny. How the other half live.

Will it be wedding bells next time we look in on this lot? Quite possibly! And of course, it wouldn’t be a Goth wedding without heaps of drama.

[cjwallflower]

Philip’s duel

Word Count: 2514 words

Genre: Angst

Warnings: TW, death, blood, swearing

Philip sighed as he looked up at the overcast sky. It was a boring day, but he knew tomorrow would be better. He was planning on proposing to his long term girlfriend, Theodosia Burr Alston, after 3 years. Philip smiled as he felt the small box in his pocket, but his smile dropped when he heard his father’s name. He turned to see a man he vaguely knew as George Eacker up on a parapet, preaching to a crowd, and abusing his father’s name. Philip grew angry and stormed over.

“Hey! What are you saying about my father?!” he yelled, silencing the crowd and even the man who’d been slandering his father’s name.

But the corners of Eacker’s lips turned up into an amused and all the more aggravating smirk. “Your... father?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip and sneering at the shorter boy, who glared more.

“Yeah. What. Did you say. About. My. Father?!” Philip growled through gritted teeth.

Eacker suddenly burst out laughing, as did a few others. “You’re telling me, that you’re the son of that cowardly, good for nothing piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to live?!” he asked, wheezing.

Philip’s eyes were ablaze, and he only saw red as he punched Eacker square in the jaw. The whole crowd went silent. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, then?” he growled lowly, and Eacker glared.

“Let’s talk over there” he said, and dragged Philip away from the crowd.

Philip would’ve usually been intimidated by that gesture, but he was too fuelled by anger. He growled up at Eacker, whose jaw was now bruising. “You. Me. Tomorrow at dawn. For a duel of gentlemen” he said through bared teeth, but was more infuriated when Eacker had that same shit eating smirk on his face and nodded. Furious, he glared hotly at Eacker, and pushed past him, going home. He had a duel to prepare for.

The door to Alexander’s study slammed open. The aforementioned man looked up from where he was grading tests, and was concerned when he saw his son with a murderously angry look in his eyes.

Philip only uttered three words as he met Alexander’s eyes. “Where’s the guns?”

Alexander’s eyes widened and he shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. “What?” he asked softly, and flinched as Philip got more angry.

“Where. Are. The. Guns?”

Alexander realised he’d heard his son correctly and started to shake a little, honestly terrified. He pointed to a safe in the wall. “I-In the s-safe..” he managed out as his son advanced to the safe. “Ph-Philip, wh-what’s going o-on?”

Philip spun the lock, glaring at it. “A man named George Eacker was smacking you around in the streets. I challenged him to a duel.” he cocked a gun, clicking it into safety. “And I’m not going to lose.”

Alexander’s mouth fell agape and he stood up. “What?! No! You-“ he tried to reason with his son, but Philip definitely wouldn’t let up on this one. “Just because someone says something bad about me doesn't me-“

Philip cut him off by meeting his eyes. Tears of anger were streaming down his face. “No! He went too far dad, I’m not gonna let it slide!” he exclaimed, making his father flinch again. This was scarily unlike the Philip Alexander had known for 19 years.

A beat of silence resonated between the two as they stared into each other's eyes.

In Alexander's eyes, there was fear. People often died in duels if shot in a really bad area, and Philip was only 19. He didn't have training, and though he was definitely smart enough to figure it out, Philip didn't even know how to fire the gun. But then he read the look in Philip's eyes, and tears welled in his own.

Philip's eyes had so many different emotions in them. First, foremost, and most prominent was anger. He wasn't angry at his father for trying to stop him, but he was too angry at Eacker to be stopped. Secondly, spite. This one was subtle, almost nonexistent, as Philip was never spiteful. The only reason Alexander recognised it was because that look was no stranger to Alexander's own iris, and he suddenly knew how it felt to be on the other side of that terrifying gaze. Finally, there was a flicker of fear, and Alexander realised that Philip didn't want to duel Eacker, but he wasn't going to let anyone hurt his father's name. Not whilst he was alive, that is. Alexander came to the realisation that he couldn't stop Philip no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, and pleaded, and reasoned with his son. Philip was going out to those duelling grounds, and not even God Himself could stop him.

Alexander sighed, hugging Philip tightly. "Take my guns, be smart" he warned.

Philip hugged back, bearing a smile. "I'll make you proud, Pops."

"You always do."

The next day, Philip awoke before the sun peeked over the horizon. He contemplated resuming his previous sleeping state, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he sat up. The barrel of his father's pistol glimmered in the moonlight.

Philip got up with a soft sigh, looking in the mirror and smoothing down his wild curls and looking in the mirror as he got dressed. He slipped the small velvet box into his pocket, thinking to himself, 'I'm going to win this duel for the Hamilton name. I may as well if I'm going to bring another person into it'.

Philip pulled on his jacket, looking around and making sure he hadn't woken anyone up. He stopped in front of his parents' room, looking at them cuddling and sleeping peacefully. He smiled softly, sighing silently. "I'll make you proud, Pops. I love you, Mom. I'll see you after the duel" he whispered in the silence, and set off into the cold November dawn.

Eacker and his friend were there when Philip arrived with his friend and a doctor that both friends knew. George looked nervous in his eyes, but he still had that cocky grin on his face that made Philip's blood boil over. Despite his apparent anger, he attempted to be cordial with the man he'd soon shoot. "Mr. Eacker! How was the rest of your evening?" he asked, but glared when his attempted kindness was spat to the ground.

"I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go" Eacker growled.

"Fine by me."

Philip sighed as the pistols were mixed around and given to the men. Philip's friend looked at him. "Philip, can we just call this off?" he whispered lowly, but Philip didn't budge.

"Under no circumstances do you let him win this argument, got it?" Philip asked, and his friend sighed, approaching Eacker's friend.

As the two tried to negotiate, Eacker and Philip glared into each other's eyes. George was a little unsettled by the look of hatred, malice, and pure, unbridled rage in Philip's eyes, but George stood his ground like a man. In reality, Philip was more scared than Eacker, but his father had taught him the basics that he needed to know in order to win this battle. Both friends came back with the news that there would be no peace, and they were clear to duel. Philip took a deep breath as the men started counting to ten.

One.

Philip passed Eacker as they both took their first step. He closed his eyes, thinking about the advice his father gave him. 'Look him in the eye, aim no higher. Summon all the courage you require. Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky' Alexander's voice rang in his head.

Two.

Philip thought of said father, and how proud he'd be when he came home with his head held high. He'd pat Philip on the back, and tell him he did a good job. His father was already proud of him, but this would validate it even more. He smiled to himself. "I'll make you proud, Pops" he whispered.

Three.

Philip's mind flashed to his mother. She was already feeling down because of recent events. Most prominent of those events was grieving over the loss of her father, whom Philip was named for. A brief spot of doubt flashed in his mind. 'What if I end up dying in this duel?' he asked himself, but straightened up, nearly slapping himself. 'No. I'll come home for breakfast, and she'll cry with pride. I'm not gonna leave her.'

Four.

Philip then thought of all his younger siblings. He was the eldest, and when they needed someone to fight the monsters under the bed, he was always there. He was their brave soul who cradled them when they couldn't sleep, and sung them lullabies and told amazing stories during dinner. They all looked up to him, and he knew he'd live to protect them another day.

Five.

Philip thought about Aaron Burr, his girlfriend's father. Burr never liked him, and just tolerated his father. Philip was constantly threatened by Burr, and once almost lost his life due to a misunderstanding where Theo Jr had been crying over a book where an innocent's life had been taken, and Burr had thought Philip had hurt her. If he saw that Philip could hold his own, and defend against opposition, maybe he'd finally have Burr's stamp of approval. In that case, he had to make Burr proud, too.

Six.

Philip saw Theo Jr in his mind. The wind blowing her beautiful curls, the sun kissing her beautiful soft skin, her brown eyes sparkling in the sunset. He imagined her face when the moment came for him to get down on one knee. As he raised his gun to shoot to the air, he smiled. 'I have people to live for. I'm gonna win this. I'll make them all proud, and later, I'll propose to Theo, and it's gonna be so perfect. I love you so much, Theo'

Seven.

Eacker turned around and fired his gun.

Everything seemed to stop, the world stopped turning. The men stopped counting, the duelers stopped pacing, and Philip stopped thinking. Philip felt the bullet fly into side and get stuck in his right arm. He shakily looked down at the bullet wound, the blood oozing out, and he collapsed to the ground, quickly losing consciousness as the doctor rushed to his side.

The phone at the Hamilton household rang loudly, as Aaron Burr and his small family of three sat with Alexander in his living room, having tea. Eliza was still sleeping, so Alexander answered quickly before it woke his wife up.

"Hello, is this Alexander Hamilton?" asked a soft female voice. Alexander was uneasy.

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?"

“This is the receptionist at Orlando Hospital. I’m calling in regards to your son, Philip Hamilton. He has you listed as his emergency contact”

Remembering Philip had gone dueling, Alexander's eyes widened. "What's happened to Philip?"

The receptionist's next words felt like a spear had pierced his heart.

“He’s been shot in the side. We think it may be fatal”

Alexander dropped the phone in shock. Hearing the noise, Aaron looked over into the kitchen. "Alex? Alex, are you alright?" he asked gently.

Alexander turned to them, trembling with wide eyes that were welling with tears. "Ph-Philip's been.. shot.." he managed out.

Aaron's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "What?!" he asked. Theo Jr covered her mouth in shock, getting to her feet as well, tears pouring down her face. Aaron quickly pulled her and Alexander to his car to drive to the hospital.

As they approached the hospital, Theo tried desperately to wipe her tears, and she only had one thought on her mind.

'Stay Alive, Philip...'

The trio rushed into the waiting room, two of the three crying desperately. Alexander saw the doctor that had been at Philip's side at the time of the duel. Holding back a sob, Alexander rushed forward to see the doctor.

"Where's my son?!" he asked, gripping the doctor's shoulders. "Where the fuck is my son?!"

The doctor flinched, but recognised Alexander. "Mr. Hamilton, come in, they brought him in half an hour ago, he lost a lot of blood on the way over.

Theo ran over and joined them. "Is he alive?!" she cried desperately.

The doctor hesitated. “Yes, hes alive, but you have to understand, the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm-“

Aaron cut him off, holding his daughter tightly. "We need to see him. Now."

The doctor led the three to Philip's room. "I’m doing everything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived" he said.

Theo sobbed into her father's chest. "Will he stay alive?!" she asked, but the doctor didn't answer her. If it weren't for Aaron holding her up, she'd have collapsed by now. It didn't help seeing Philip's blood splattered across the doctor's uniform.

They entered the room to see Philip in the hospital bed, festering and weak. He had a thin stream of blood leaking from his mouth, and his hands and clothes were drenched in his own blood, a terrifying sight to see. What was most unsettling was how leaking through the bandages was more blood, accompanied with a strange yellow colour. Theo cried and rushed to his side, holding his bloodstained hand. Philip's hazel eyes weakly opened. As he tried to talk, he choked out even more blood. He finally managed one word that broke Theo's heart when she heard his normally soft, cheerful voice now breaking as he lie on the brink of death.

"H...Hey..."

Theo sobbed harder, her heart clenching as she stared at him. Philip managed a weak, bloody smile, and he squeezed her hand, wincing in pain. Theo cupped his face gently, tears clouding her vision. "O-Oh... O-Oh dear god, Ph-Philip... Philip why..?" she asked softly, her heart aching as she stared at her dying boyfriend.

Philip's smile only widened painfully. “I-I showed h-him.. u-us H-Hamiltons.. w-we aren’t w-weak..w-we...aren't..c-cowards...” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Theo's eyes widened and she started sobbing. "Ph-Philip! No, don't go yet!" she cried.

Thankfully, Philip’s eyes opened a little. “I-I’m... still... h-here...” he croaked, coughing up more blood. Theo smiled softly at him, trying to stay calm. She couldn't control the flow of tears streaming down her face however.

Suddenly, the door burst open again. There, shaking and sobbing, was Eliza. “Philip!” she cried, hugging him tightly. Philip hugged back. “Wh-what happened? Wh-who shot you???” she sobbed.

“I-I.. got i-into a d-duel.. a m-man.. talked.. b-bad about.. P-Pops..” he managed out.

"M-Mom, I love you.." he wheezed weakly, and the room felt a bit brighter. He felt weaker. Lighter.

His pulse slowed to a stop, and the room was filled with sobbing.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Office Crush

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff and light angst

Word Count: 4385

CW: Alcohol

Summary: Baz has been pining after his boss' son for ages. Office crushes are just the worst, huh? Based on "a kiss given to the wrong person" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Sorry this took so long! I've had some bad writer's block but I think I've kicked it. Hope you all enjoy some pining angsty Baz :D

Baz

Most people despise their jobs. I count myself lucky that I mostly enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have it’s... disadvantages. One particular disadvantage actually. And he eats far too many cherry scones.

Mage & Associates is a very recent financial firm. It was started by David Mage (definitely not his real last name) and practically exploded. Now they manage the money of companies across the UK. I feel lucky to work here, despite my mother and father’s personal dislike of Mr. Mage. (Some old feud I really don’t care about.) What I didn’t expect was for Mr. Mage to have a loud, obnoxious, devastatingly handsome son.

I’m sitting at my desk, trying to finish another report, when someone crashes into the chair next to me.

“Hey how’s it going Bazzy?” he says, scone crumbs around his mouth.

“I told you not to call me that,” I mutter.

Simon hangs his head back with a groan, bronze curls falling back over the chair. “God why are you always so serious?”

“One of my last names is Grimm.” I brush some crumbs off my desk. “Why are you bothering me, Salisbury? I actually have work to do. Unlike you.”

“I have work! I’m just taking a cherry scone break. Want some?” Simon rips off a piece of his sour cherry scone and shoves it in my face. I swat his hand away.

“If you did your job with the same enthusiasm shown in your pastry eating, this company’s work would halved.”

He juts out his bottom lip. God why does he have to be so adorable when pouts? It’s maddening. My resolve almost falters. “You’re always so mean, Pitch.”

“‘Still so constant, lord.’”

“Pfft! Only you would insult me with Shakespeare.” I turn to stare at him. “Yes, I know Shakespeare. I went through the same school system as you.”

“You’re just full of surprises, Salisbury, I’ll say that.”

Simon grins. He has a very beautiful smile. I picture it in my head at least twice a day. “Thank you for that sort of compliment, Baz. Now,” he claps a hand over my shoulder (I try to ignore the jolt of sensation that runs through my arm), “I’m going to do your oh so beloved work. See ya later.”

He walks off with a little skip in his step. I lean slightly out of my cubicle, just watching him move, and sigh under my breath. God I’m pathetic. What am I, a bloody teenager? Here I am, 25 years old, with a bloody crush. This is my daily routine. Salisbury comes to my desk, I insult him because I’m too nervous to do anything else, and then I watch him longingly like a pining idiot. It’s my own personal hell.

“You’re so obvious, mate.”

“Gah!” I nearly jump out of my chair. I turn to glare at Niall, who’s leaning his head over my dingy grey cubicle wall.

“For fuck’s sake, Niall,” I huff, “give a man some warning.”

“Sorry for not announcing my presence while you were ogling Mage Jr’s arse.”

I look down, hoping to hide my blush. “I wasn’t ogling his arse...”

“Alright, casually observing his backside. That more appropriate?”

“Oh shut up.”

Niall makes his way to stand at the entrance, leaning against the side. I don’t look over in fear of seeing his definitely judging expression.

“How long have are you gonna keep pining after Salisbury and do absolutely nothing?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Um, it is if I have to keep suffering through your annoying infatuation. Every day I hear you two make jabs at each other, then listen to you whine about how hot he is and how he’s probably straight. C’mon Baz, just ask him out.”

I hunker down at my desk. Of course Niall doesn’t get it. When you spend years in the closet, crushes are hard enough as is. But crushing on your boss’ son? That’s a bloody minefield. What if he rejects me? What if he freaks out and tells his father? What if he just, never talks to me again?

“No,” I say flatly.

Niall just sighs. I can hear the exasperation just in his breath. “Fine, whatever. Just ogle his arse for the rest of your life.”

“I was not ogling!”

Christmas time rolls around very quickly. The office is decorated in horrendously bright reds and greens. Some of my more enthusiastic co-workers are wearing antlers or Santa hats. And we all know who the most enthusiastic man on the planet is.

“Ho ho ho! Happy Christmas one and all!” Simon shouts, bursting into our floor in a red hat.

Everyone claps. Except me. I just keep staring at my monitor instead of him.

“Now I’d like to cordially invite all of you to Mage & Associates’ annual Christmas party. There will be tunes, there will be booze, and there will be holiday cheer!” They erupt in whoops and hollers. (God, sometimes it’s like working in an American frat house.) “This Friday, floor 8, 9:00. Hope to see you all there!”

My overly excited coworkers give a last cheer. I wander up to see Simon bows extravagantly, the little pom-pom of his hat falling forward. I look back at my computer with it’s comforting emotionless numbers.

“So,” Simon’s voice rings in my ear, “you coming, Baz?” Of course he has to come sit next to my desk. Why does this man insist on torturing me?

I snort. “What do you think?”

He throws his arms on my desk and leans his chin on them. “I think you’re a ginourmous stick in the mud, with an even bigger stick up your arse. So you’ll be skipping it. Like a total Scrooge.”

“I’m not a Scrooge. I’d just prefer to not watch my co-workers drunkenly sing Christmas carols.”

Simon throws his arms up for effect. “But that’s the best part! People having fun, getting into the Christmas spirit.” He knocks my arm with his fist. “C’mon, Grimm-Pitch. Loosen up a bit.”

My eyes flick over to his. His sunshine grin makes my heart stutter. Fuck, I’m weak. I sigh and shake my head.

“Fine, I’ll come to the party.”

He squeals and claps. (It’s adorable.) “Awesome! Make sure to wear something festive.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What counts as festive, Salisbury?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something green, something red, something red and green? If you own anything that’s not grey or black.”

I glare at him. “Very well. I’ll find something... festive.”

“Awesome!” He stands up, hands on his hips. “Can’t wait to see you there, Baz.”

He walks away again, but I don’t stare. All I can do is replay his words in my head. He can’t wait to see me, he can’t wait to see me . Dear lord, I have to stop over analyzing.

Salisbury is wrong. I do own something “festive”. A simple pine green button down shirt. I think my mother made me buy it because she had the same concern about my penchant for monochrome suits. (I wear colour, just not a lot)

The party decorations are nuts. Tinsel is strung up on every light fixture. Paper Santas are taped to the wall. A giant Christmas tree covered in sparkly ornaments is in the corner. Everyone is dancing and/or drinking. However, I am against a wall, deciding whether to roll my sleeves back up or leave them down. I can’t figure out which looks better.

“Oh my god, stop fidgeting!”

I turn to see Niall, holding two cups of eggnog. He hands one to me. “I’m not fidgeting.”

“Your shirt is fine . You are fine . Now stop picking at your damn shirt and try to have fun.” He raises up his glass. “Happy Christmas, Baz.”

I sigh, and clink (more like clunk) our plastic cups together. “Happy Christmas, Niall.”

We both take big sips and look out into the crowd. People are dancing and jumping to the remixed Christmas carols. Salisbury’s out there somewhere, I think. I haven’t seen him yet though. I know I shouldn’t be nervous (of course he’s going to be here) but my stomach is like a swirling thunderstorm.

“Are you going to dance?” Niall asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I mumble, drinking more eggnog.

Niall chuckles. “Hey, that girl is wearing the same shirt as you.”

I look where he’s pointing, which is seemingly at Penelope Bunce, the purple haired woman in accounting who’s friends with Simon. She’s jumping around happily. We exchange witty banter in the break room constantly.

“Niall, what do you mean ‘that girl’? That’s Bunce. And she’s wearing a dress.”

Niall shakes his head. “No no, not Penelope. The blonde one next to her.”

I tilt my head head, then I see her. She’s dancing just behind Bunce and I have no clue who she is. (Guess she’s someone’s friend or date.) She is very pretty and very blonde, hair long and bouncing with the beat. Niall is right, sadly. We are wearing similar green button downs. Her’s is a woman’s version though. Still, I’m wearing the same shirt as someone else.

“Shit,” I groan. “Someone call the bloody fashion police to arrest me.”

“Oh stop it, it’s not that bad. C’mon, let’s dance!”

I sigh. “You go. I’ll join later.”

“Fine. Stand here, being a stiff. Simon will love that.”

I give Niall one long glare as he goes to the makeshift dance floor. He’s right though. I’m a total stiff who doesn’t know how to have fun. What the hell would Simon see in me?

“Baz! You came!”

Speak of the Devil, Simon comes rushing towards me. He’s wearing a ridiculously ugly bright red Christmas sweater. (Rudolph with a sparkly pom pom nose? My god.) The flush in his cheeks tells me he’s had more than one cup of eggnog. He swings an arm around my shoulders, making me tense up more than I’d like.

“Well I said I would, didn’t I?” I say as calmly as I can.

He rolls his eyes lazily. “Well yeaaaaah. But I wasn’t sure you were gonna show up. But you did! Which I’m very happy about.”

My cheeks almost flush as red as his. “Happy to be here, Salisbury.”

“Please, you should call me Simon. We’re all friends here!’

My heart tightens, nearly breaking. Of course we’re just friends. What else should I have expected? I shift uncomfortably and look down. “Yeah of course. We’re all, friends...”

“Let’s go dance!” He tugs roughly on my sleeve. Maybe I’m finally feeling confident, or maybe it’s the look on Simon’s face, or maybe it’s the eggnog. But despite my better judgement, I go with him.

Whoever picked this music (probably Simon) has terrible taste. Dubstep jingle bells? I move slightly to the beat. Salisbury jumps up and down, pumping his fist in the air. The multicoloured lights catch in his hair. God, how can it sparkle like that?

He reaches forward to lazily drape an arm across my shoulder, pulling us closer together. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Tolerating his presence so close to mine during work is hard enough. Now there’s less than half a foot between us. I can see his every beautiful mole, every glint in his blue eyes, every flash of that gorgeous grin. It’s almost more than I can stand, but like hell if I’m going to waste this opportunity.

I cautiously place my hands on his hips. Just lightly touching the material of his stupid jumper. He doesn’t shove me away. Instead, Salisbury lets his other arm fall on me. He smiles at me lazily, then pulls himself forward until I can feel his hot alcohol laced breath on my ear.

“You having fun Baz?” He whispers, making me shudder.

“Yeah,” I reply shakily under my breath.

“Good.”

He moves his hips back and forth under my grip. We’re so close I can feel every shift. I’m surprised my brain hasn’t exploded yet. Simon Salisbury is dancing with me. He’s almost dancing on me. Our bodies are so close together. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s intoxicating.

It’s too much.

I pull away. Simon looks at me confused.

“I’m uh, thirsty,” I say weakly. “I’m gonna get more eggnog. Want some?”

He smiles drunkenly. “Sure.”

I power walk away, trying to catch my breath. God what was that? I haven’t danced like that since my club cruising phase in first year uni. And I’m not a bloody teenager anymore! I shouldn’t be doing this, especially with a co-worker, especially with my boss’ son. But... it felt so damn good. I finally had Simon so close to me, the way I’ve wanted for months. Sadly, I’m a stupid coward, who is scared of his own feelings.

I put my hands on he eggnog table and hang my head. I’m such an idiot. I just threw away my chance. Maybe that was Simon’s way of telling me he has feelings too. And maybe I can fix it.

I pour two red cups full of eggnog, and turn to look for him. My eyes catch on an annoyingly red sweater wobbling around. With my nerves steeled, I walk towards him.

I’m a only few feet away when I see it. Simon, under that damned mistletoe, snogging the blonde woman I saw earlier.

I almost drop the cups. If my heart nearly broke before, it’s certainly breaking now. I fucked it up, like I fuck everything up. I ran away and he found someone better. A normal person would scream or cry or something idiotic like that. But I’m Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, dammit. So I just calmly turn around and walk away.

“Hey man,” Niall says as I pass him, “where are you going?”

“Home,” I reply coldly.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I want to alright?!” I snarl at him. He looks very taken aback. It’s not fair to him. I sigh and look down. “Sorry. Just, something happened and I really want to go back to my flat and be miserable, alright?”

Niall’s eyes soften. I think he knows it’s something to do with Salisbury, but he’s not going to say anything. (Good man.) He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Alright, mate. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I grab my coat and make my way out of the building. I try not to think about everything, but my self destructive mind keeps pulling me back. How could I be so stupid? Of course Simon doesn’t feel the same. I’m a cold, mean, asshole coward who’s too scared to talk to him without sarcastic insults. The dancing meant nothing. He was drunk off his ass. He probably didn’t even realise what he was doing.

The second I get home, I’m going to open a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and feel sorry for myself for exactly one hour. Then I’ll move on. Hopefully.

I try to avoid my desk all of Monday. I do my work in the kitchen, or the lounge, or anywhere else that isn’t my cubicle. If Salisbury can’t find me, I don’t have to talk to him. Yes, I have adopted the logic of a toddler trying to avoid bedtime, but I have few other options.

I’m sitting in the breakroom for lunch, which I never do. Luckily no one else does either. There are far too many much nicer cafe for them to go to. Which leaves me alone with just my thoughts and chicken sandwich. A whole weekend later and I’m still thinking about that party. Dancing with my crush, then watching him kiss a girl under the mistletoe. Maybe that was his girlfriend. I know she doesn’t work here. That’d make sense. But then why was he dancing with me earlier? To mess with my head?

“Baz?”

That voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look away and will my face from turning beet red.

“Hello, Salisbury,” I mutter.

Simon walks over to me and sits across. I regrettably look up slightly, only to see him in that grey suit he always looks stunning in. Fuck me, I’m screwed.

“What are you doing here? I’ve never seen you eat in the breakroom before.”

“I don’t usually.” Keeping my words brief almost keeps my blush from appearing.

He pulls out one of those blasted scones and munches loudly. “I, uh,” he says with mouth still full, “went to your desk this morning. You weren’t there.”

“You must’ve missed me.”

“Oh. I just uh, haven’t seen you since the party. You kinda disappeared.”

I scoff slightly, and say something despite my better judgement. “Didn’t really enjoy watching you snog your girlfriend. PDA is disgusting.”

His brow furrows, but in confusion rather than anger. “Girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”

What the hell is he talking about?! My blood is almost boiling. He can at least own up to it like a decent person. “That blonde girl you were kissing under the mistletoe. Who else?”

Simon hangs his head with a loud groan. “Ugh you saw that? Fuck.” He looks up with an apologetic expression. “That was Agatha. She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we dated when we were 15, but of course that was a long time ago. Really, we’re just old friends. Her, Penny and me all went to school together. She lives in California now and we barely see each other. But she’s back in town for Christmas so I invited her to the party. For old time's sake.”

“Is that why you kissed her? For old time's sake?” Crap, I hope I don’t sound too defensive.

"No! Of course not..." He starts picking at his nails (a nervous habit I've noticed.) “Well, um, you see, this is embarrassing, but I can’t hold my liquor very well. And I saw her under the mistletoe and my drunken brain thought she was... someone else.” He turns bright red this time. Shit, Simon has a his own stupid crush. Guess we’re not that different after all.

I scoff again. It keeps me from totally losing my cool. “What, thought she was some other blonde? You must have a type.” I can’t avoid the nervous timbre of my voice near the end.

He shakes his head vigorously and looks away. “No, uh actually... I saw the green shirt, and for a second, I thought she was... you...”

I blink rapidly. My mind goes completely blank, and my heart just stops. I’m a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, trying to process his words. He thought it was me? Does that mean he wanted to kiss me? Me? As I’m going through this crisis, I don’t realise I’m staring blankly at a very confused Simon.

“Um, Baz?” he says, waving a hand.

With a head shake, I come back to reality. “Sorry. Did you just say, you thought it was me under the mistletoe?”

Simon keeps picking at his nails. “I, uh, yeah... look Baz, I know I should've said something before. I’ve been meaning to ask you out. But, you’re just so cool and stuff and I’m not! I-I can’t bloody think around you, let alone ask you on a date. I took a shot with the dance at the party, which seemed to go great. So when I saw the mistletoe I was like ‘hey, why not?’ But then Agatha pushed me off and you were gone. I realised I'd really lost my chance.” He starts running a hand through his curls, pulling at them nervously. “I’m really sorry for dumping this all on you. You don’t have to like me back. I’d understand. I mean, who’d want to go out with someone as weird as me?”

I can’t believe it. He’s just as nervous, shy, and awkward as me. Maybe even more so. He’s a fucking tragedy. He couldn’t be a bigger mess. We match.

I bring my chair around so we’re sitting side by side. I take his shaking hand in mine. He turns to me with wide blue eyes.

“So,” I say, “if you had kissed me, how would you have done it?”

Simon’s mouth falls open slightly. It’s his turn to stare blankly at me. “What?”

“If it really had been me under the mistletoe, how would you have kissed me?”

“I-I, uh... I’m not good with words.”

I reach out and cup his cheek. “Then why don’t you just show me?”

After a brief stare, he grabs my collar and smashes his mouth against mine. It’s a total mess (my teeth nearly cut his lips) but I really don’t care. He’s soft and warm, just like I always thought. I grab the other side of his face, bringing us closer. He grips my shirt like he never wants to let go. We move together fervently at first, all heat and passion. Our tongues and lips battle like two over eager teenagers. But bit by bit, it slows into long, languid kisses. My head is swimming. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and all I want from now on.

We pull away only when we’re out of breath. Simon is flushed all the way down to his neck. I move to hold his shoulders, but he doesn’t release my shirt.

“So,” he sighs, “this silly crush I have isn’t so one sided?”

I chuckle under my breath. “No. Hasn’t been for months.”

He lightly slaps my shoulder. “Thanks for telling me, prick.”

“Well you were the one who kissed your ex in front of me!”

“That was an accident!”

We fall into fits of laughter. His forehead falls against my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him. Slowly we calm down. But I keep holding him, revelling in the feeling of us being so close. He smells wonderful, like cinnamon and sour cherry scones.

“Are we boyfriends now?” He says into my shirt.

I giggle, stroking his hair. “I think we should go on a proper date first, Salisbury.”

He pulls back with one eyebrow raised. “You know, if we’re gonna date, you should probably call me by my first name.”

I frown childishly. “But that feels weird. I’ve always called you Salisbury.”

Simon shakes his head with a smile. “Fine, you big baby.” He plays with the lapel of my suit jacket absentmindedly (I love it). “Well, as a compromise, you could always use my middle name. Though it’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Oh now you have to tell me!” (I’m far too excited about something so trivial.)

He chews his lips, then sighs. “It’s Snow. Simon Snow Salisbury.”

I bark out a loud laugh, making him frown. He looks down at the floor.

“Oh shut up,” he mutters. “Blame my Mum. She chose it.”

“No no no,” I say, tilting his chin up so we’re eye to eye. “It’s a fine middle name, love. It’s absolutely great.” He still looks upset, gorgeous face all pinched together. “Alright, just so we’re even, I’ll tell you my first name.” Now he looks interested (I’m going to regret this.) “My full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

Snow erupts in giggles. I’d be pissed if he didn’t look so damn beautiful when he laughs. He crushes his face into my shoulder, letting me feel every laugh induced sob. “Oh my god,” he sputters, “and I thought my parents hated me!”

“It’s a Pitch family name, so Mother desperately wanted it. But Father and I both hate it. Hence why I’m called Baz and not bloody Tyrannus.”

He moves back, wiping laughing tears away from his eyes. “Well then, I promise only to call you Tyrannus when I’m royally pissed off at you. That way you’ll know.” He flashes me a cheeky smile.

I run my fingers up and down his neck. “And I’ll only call you Simon when it’s just the two of us. So it’ll be special.”

God, he’s beautiful when he blushes. Simon leans up to kiss me again. Just a soft, sweet peck. It sends a warmth through my body I could get used to. We pull back and lean our foreheads against each other.

“This isn’t workplace appropriate behaviour, you know,” I whisper.

“Very true,” he sighs, “my father would have a fit if he saw us snogging in the breakroom.”

I pull back very quickly, hands clasped on his shoulders. “Oh my god that’s right. What if your father doesn’t approve? I cannot lose this job, Snow!”

Snow chuckles and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, love. If my father tries to fire you, he’ll have to deal with me .” My heart races at the protective look in his eye. “And just because we shouldn’t kiss here, doesn’t mean we can’t kiss somewhere else. Say, at a restaurant tonight after work?”

I grab his hand and squeeze it. “I would love that. But I'll only go if you’re still wearing this stunning grey suit.”

“Deal.”

I hear the faint sound of people entering the floor. I look at the clock. “I think our lunch is over. We should probably get back to work.”

Snow sighs heavily. “Fine. Let’s be responsible adults and all.” He gives me one last fleeting peck and stands up. “Meet at your cubicle at 6?”

My pulse races so wildly it’s insane. “Can’t wait.”

He flashes me a smile and walks off. I watch him like always, but it doesn’t feel shameful anymore. I think I’m allowed to do this. The idea of watching Simon Snow Salisbury only fills me with joy now, not also fear.

Once Snow is surely gone, I make my way to my own workspace. I have a very hard time focusing on the numbers with all the nervous anticipation stirring in my gut. My foot is literally bouncing, knocking against my deck.

“Hey what’s got you so jittery?” Niall asks from his usual spot hovering over the wall.

I turn to him with a wide smile “I promise to tell you all about it later out of the office.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve very strange, Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever."

However strange I may seem, I don't care. I'm too happy. I’ve got a date with the man of my dreams, who cares for me just as much as I care for him.

I’m certainly living a charmed life.

Aw my angsty son and loud son are happy. Good for them :)

And another kiss fic struck from the list! I'm starting university in a bit so I hope to get most of them done before that. If not then the last few will sadly not be finished until Christmas break. First semester will be murder ugh. Wish me luck, my wonderful fans. And thank you all for making this summer so great with all your wonderful requests and comments. It means the world to me <3

[wknc881]

Daytime Charts 8/25

Artist Record Label 1 DOUBLE GRAVE Goodbye Nowhere! Forged Artifacts 2 FONTAINES DCA Hero's Death Partisan 3 BETHS, THE Jump Rope Gazers Carpark 4 LIME CORDIALE 14 Steps To A Better You Chugg/London Cowboys 5 ILLUMINATI HOTTIES FREE I.H.: This Is Not The One You've Been Waiting For Self-Released 6 BECCA MANCARI The Greatest Part Captured Tracks 7 NYALLAH Reflections [EP] Self-Released 8 JUNIOR MESA "Losing My Grip" b/w "Creep" [Single ]Nice Life 9 LOMELDA "Wonder" [Single] Double Double Whammy 10 STRFKR Future Past Life Polyvinyl 11 MADELINE KENNEY Sucker's Lunch Carpark 12 DIET CIG Do You Wonder About Me? Frenchkiss 13 PROTOMARTYR Ultimate Success Today Domino 14 JR JR August And Everything Prior [EP] Love Is EZ 15 SOLOS SoloS [EP] Dowd 16 PUBLIC PRACTICE Gentle Grip Wharf Cat 17 PAINT Spiritual Vegas Mexican Summer 18 HALF WAIF The Caretaker Anti- 19 OCEAN ALLEY Lonely Diamond Self-Released 20 CHLOE MORIONDO Spirit Orb [EP] Elektra 21 PINEWOOD All Things With Symmetry [EP] Self-Released 22 PORRIDGE RADIO Every Bad Secretly Canadian/Secretly Group 23 ATTA BOY Big Heart Manners Self-Released 24 METHYL ETHEL Hurts To Laugh [EP] Dot Dash 25 SIMEN LYNGROTH Muse Self-Released 26 FRANCIS OF DELIRIUM All Change [EP] Dalliance 27 FLAT WORMS Antarctica God? 28 DEAD TONGUES, THE Transmigration Blues Psychic Hotline 29 MINI TREES Slip Away [EP] Self-Released 30 SQUARE LOOP Mom Come Pick Me Up Self-Released

TOP ADDS 

1 GIRL FRIDAY Androgynous Mary Hardly Art 2 BULLY SUGAREGG Sub Pop 3 DREAM WIFE So When You Gonna...Lucky Number 4 GANSER Just Look At That Sky Felte 5 DEHD Flower Of Devotion Fire Talk 6 HELVETIA This Devastating Map Joyful Noise 7 EYEDRESS Let's Skip To The Wedding Lex 8 HARRY THE NIGHTGOWN Harry The Nightgown Topshelf 9 KATIE DEY Mydata Run For Cover 10 THIS IS THE KIT Off Off On Rough Trade

[lightsize95-blog]

WCG Roundtable: What Are Your Thoughts on Cody Parkey’s TV Appearance?

I hate throwing salt on old wounds. After some time to reflect on the season as a whole, and of course Cody Parkey’s notorious “double doink” kick, I feel that the incident as a whole has been overblown. This is, in the end, a game. Life will happen and it sucks.

With that said, the embattled Chicago Bears’ kicker did what I previously thought was unthinkable. He elected to appear on national television with the “Today Show.” If you wish to watch his full interview, you may click on this link, and see the appearance for yourself.

How did Matt Nagy, Ryan Pace, and others take to this event? Not too kindly.

In case you have been living under a rock, much has been said about the overall unhappiness in the tone from Halas Hall. Matt Nagy in particular was visibly annoyed with the entire stunt pulled by Parkey. When both Pace and Nagy were asked for their opinions on the “Today Show” interview, Nagy chimed in with this statement.

“We always talk about a ‘we’ and not a ‘me’ thing, we win as a team and we lose as a team. I didn’t necessarily think it was a ‘we’ thing.” (Matt Nagy; Head Coach, Chicago Bears)

Ryan Pace added that the Bears will be looking to improve their Kicker position during the offseason. He wasn’t kidding, as they’ve already signed a new Kicker in Redford Jones. This comes after they held tryouts/workouts at their team facilities. And, I won’t be surprised if they add at least one more kicker to the mix, before cutting Cody Parkey.

I certainly have my own views on this matter. Additionally, some of our fellow writers here on WCG submitted their own thoughts for this topic. I asked everyone the following questions.

What are your overall and personal thoughts about Cody Parkey’s appearance on the Today Show, in terms of the message(s) he delivered and the manner of which he conducted himself?

Do you, personally, believe Parkey’s media tour was selfish? If so, or if not, why?

Based on question 2, do you share the same thoughts that Ryan Pace and Matt Nagy presented during their press conference?

First, we’ll start with question #1.

“What are your overall and personal thoughts about Cody Parkey’s appearance on the Today Show, in terms of the message(s) he delivered and the manner of which he conducted himself?”

ECD (myself):

I totally understand why Cody decided to take to national television. I really do, considering his entire family was threatened and attacked by swarms of fans on social media. I have nothing wrong with a person standing up for themselves and their family.

What I do have a problem with, is how Parkey presented the message, in addition to how he proceeded to carry out this interview.

This just wasn’t a smart move on Parkey’s part. Not only did he piss off his coach and the front office, he inadvertently tossed a torch on the lone wooden bridge connecting the player with the team. His already slim chances of staying with the Bears went up with flames after this decision.

Will Robinson (WhiskeyRanger):

First, let me preface this by saying that I didn’t watch it. The wounds were still too fresh, so I just shook my head and watched Twitter react instead. Besides, I don’t even know when the Today Show is on, or even what channel lol. Not something I’ve ever watched.

But, my personal thoughts are that he probably should have just kept his head down for a while (read: this entire off-season). Turning off all emotion, I’ll say this. It probably wasn’t the smartest business move on his part, from a PR standpoint.

The smart business move would have been to stay quiet, kick a few hundred balls a day every day, and let THAT news be what people hear about you this off-season. End of the day, it’s his life, and I don’t begrudge him doing interviews if that’s what he wants to do, but doing it SO soon was probably never going to do anything but rub people the wrong way. Unless he was announcing his retirement lol.

Ken Mitchell (a man of few words):

A totally selfish, self-serving act by a me-first player who should be fired, today. Don’t wait, fire him today.

Sam Householder:

I didn’t watch either. I started the clip but then I almost like blacked out, sort of like a weird mental block as soon as they started talking about the missed kick. It was still too fresh and now I just don’t care enough to watch.

That said, I mean, fine, if the message was supposed to be ‘hey online harassment and threats hurt people because we’re real people’ fine, maybe someone watched it and thought ‘wow, I won’t be tweeting at the guy that messes up that I hope his children die anymore, I’ll just drink to sleep.’

But it seemed like the message was more about how he carried himself following the loss. Which, all right, I guess, but to me the whole thing seemed pointless, like all right, you’re holding your head high but you still kind of suck at your job. So why not just lay low and silently practice away and then show you’ve moved on next year by kicking better?

Lester A. Wiltfong Jr.:

Honestly, I never watched the whole thing. I caught a few snippets on social media, but I thought it was poor timing as the “wound” was still fresh. He made a choice to do something he had to know would be ridiculed, and now he’ll have to deal with the consequences.

Robert Schmitz:

I thought it was an obviously selfish act to appear on the Today Show, but I never “blamed” him for doing it. The NFL is a business, so I struggle to be upset at a player marketing himself after the biggest miss of his life. He came across quite cordial throughout the segment while doing his best to suggest that the double-doink was more a “gosh-darned bad break” than a poor kick. Obviously I disagree with him, but he’s allowed to do it.

“Do you, personally, believe Parkey’s media tour was selfish? If so, or if not, why?”

Myself:

Yes. No matter how hard I tried to listen and watch this entire interview objectively, all I kept hearing in my own head was, “me. me. I. me.” He owned up to his performance in the locker room minutes after the playoff game had ended. That was perfect and well done by itself.

Why on Earth did he think it was necessary to go beyond the post game interview? I can’t help but feel he did this as a move to boost his own self confidence, and not to remedy the situation in-house. His teammates supported him, and have his back. Just leave it there!

He felt bad about the kick, even though technically it is now a “blocked” kick, I understand that. The timing of the interview in combination with Nagy and Pace’s reaction to the matter suggests the notion Parkey went about this situation on his own. Big mistake.

Will:

Again, I didn’t watch it, but yeah. I’d probably say it was selfish. I’d also say it was probably misguided, since I don’t believe it was ultimately self serving in the end.

I’m sure he wanted to get out in front of the bad press, and do some damage control by humanizing himself. He likely wanted everyone to see that he’s a person, not just a number. Make it more difficult for people to hate him.

Unfortunately, it instead came off to most as a selfish move for a player who both had an inconsistent year, and came up short (or rather, low) on the most important play of the season. The whole thing, was just ill-advised.

Ken:

Absolutely it was selfish. 100 percent me-first.

Sam:

I do because it’s making it about himself, putting himself out in front to say ‘hey I screwed up but I’m not letting myself get down over it.’ Which is fine, but why even make yourself the face of it? The whole thing just confuses me as far as what he set out to accomplish. It came off selfish even if he didn’t mean it to be.

Lester:

I don’t think he meant anything in a selfish manner, but that’s the perception. Someone should have advised him not to do it, or at the very least, to wait a while. Bears brass wasn’t happy with it, and I can’t imagine his teammates were very pleased either.

Robert S.:

Yes I do. I think so primarily because he came across like a kid who’d broken a window and had since made it especially clear “how badly he felt about it”. I don’t really think any of his teammates or fans cared about how badly he felt, they just wanted him to make the kick. After the miss, I think they just wanted to move on. Publicly dwelling on it like he did makes me feel like he was directly talking to everyone but Bears fans. About himself. So, selfish.

Based on question 2, do you share the same thoughts that Ryan Pace and Matt Nagy presented during their press conference?

Myself:

Again, yes.

First and foremost, it’s never a wise decision to pull such a publicity stunt without running the plans up to your management for guidance. Matt Nagy’s comments suggests Parkey took matters into his own hands, brashly if I may add, and didn’t take steps to see if the interview was permissible with the powers at be. You’re just begging for problems when you skip steps to address what you feel is a crisis.

It’s no longer a secret, if it ever was one to begin with. The Chicago Bears weren’t happy with Cody Parkey’s production from the start. And now, they’re incensed with his approach to the matter. Cody is a good man, I will give him that credit. You also can’t keep a player after this misstep. It’s simply too egregious to ignore.

Will:

Sure. Basically what was said in their presser was that it was more of a “Me” moment, and the team prefers “We” moments. I can get behind that. There’s nothing wrong with doing things that serve one’s self, so long as they don’t take away from the team.

I don’t see anyway Parkey’s interview helped this team. Then again, I don’t see how it helped him either, even though that was likely the motivation.

Again, the proper move both for Parkey and for the team would have been to keep his head down, put in a bunch of hard work to get better, and let news of that be what people heard about him this off-season. That would have been a positive story both for Parkey, and the Bears. Had that been the case, he probably would have stood a decent chance of being with the team in 2019. Now, it’s a long-shot.

Ken:

No, I don’t. I believe they should have come right out and said “we have notified Cody that his employment with the Chicago Bears is being terminated.” Period.

Sam:

Definitely.

It didn’t seem like a ‘we’ thing, which, as cheesy and cliche as they may sound, summed it up perfectly. Instead of standing by his teammates, who went out of their way to stand behind him all year long, he went rogue to talk to a morning show to be the ‘Most Honorable Player’ or whatever crap they said. That’s some B.S.

Lester:

Nagy and Pace sure seemed annoyed to me in their presser. I think they said the right things, and I think they’ll follow through on the competition angle. I wouldn’t be surprised if they kept him until someone (UDFAs, scrap heap FAs) beat him out in camp. But if they sign another veteran free agent (like Robbie Gould), I think he’ll be immediately cut.

Robert S.:

Given that they came across pretty angry, I don’t quite share their viewpoint. I don’t think I can.

Pace and Nagy stuck their necks out for this guy, one signing him to a multi-year contract and the other sticking with him after an especially bad run of kicking, and Parkey rewarded that faith by going behind their backs.

Put it this way, Parkey’s actions didn’t reflect an immense amount of respect for his relationships with the two men. Ultimately, I think the entire ordeal simply makes him easier to cut.

What are y’all’s thoughts on Cody’s appearance on the “Today Show?”

Source: https://www.windycitygridiron.com/2019/1/27/18198562/chicago-bears-wcg-roundtable-what-are-your-thoughts-on-cody-parkey-tv-appearance-nfl-offseason-2019

[ber39james]

Everything You Need to Know about How to Write a Letter

How to start a letter, what type of letter you should write, what letter format you should choose—everyone should be familiar with these basics of letter writing. Here’s the information you need to know, along with some helpful examples.

What Type of Letter Should You Write?

There are no hard-and-fast rules. What letter format you choose depends on your audience. For a friend or close relative, a casual, handwritten message is usually the best way to go. However, for business contacts or people you don’t know well, a typed formal letter is almost always the most appropriate choice.

Before You Start a Letter

Formal letters begin with the sender’s name and address. Some companies use special paper, called letterhead, that includes contact information.

Brenda Houser 321 Hyacinth Lane Culver City, CA 90230

The next line of a formal letter and the first line of an informal letter is the date. Write it two lines after your address or at the top of a casual letter.

December 1, 2017

12 January 2018

Additionally, formal letters need the name and address of the recipient two spaces after the date. Incorporating all this information ensures that your letter can be used as a reference to contact you after the recipient discards the envelope.

Business Corporation 555 Industry Street San Francisco, CA 94104

How to Start a Letter

Finally, you’re ready to greet the person (or business) to whom you’re writing. Skip a space from any addresses you’ve included. Casual letters are easy; you can start with “Hello” or another customary greeting. Formal letters begin with “Dear” followed by the name of the receiver. If you don’t have a contact at a certain company, search online for a name, a job title, or department. For example, you might try “Dear Manager” or “Dear Human Resources Department.” As a last resort, use the generic salutation “To Whom It May Concern.” A comma follows all greetings.

Dear Ms. Abercrombie,

Dear University of Illinois Staff,

The Body of the Letter

The content of your letter will vary, so let’s focus on some general guidelines.

Do. . . keep it focused. Business letters should have a clear objective. Even personal letters shouldn’t ramble. Proofread. Errors can cause misunderstandings.

Don’t. . . use contractions in formal letters. And definitely avoid writing anything you’ll regret being recorded for posterity.

How to End a Letter

Leave a blank space between your closing paragraph and the complimentary closing. A complimentary close is a polite way to send your regards to your receiver. One of the most common closers is “Sincerely,” and it’s generally a safe bet. If you have a warmer relationship with the recipient, you can sign off with “Warm regards” or “Cordially.” There are dozens of options, so you’ll have to do a little research to determine which is best for you. Commas follow all complimentary closings. Remember, only the first letter of the phrase is capitalized. Leave another couple of spaces for the last step—your signature! Type your full name underneath it in formal letters.

Best wishes, signature Theresa Grant

With sincere gratitude, Signature Dr. Malcolm J. Carl, Jr.

What’s P.S.?

P.S. stands for postscript. It’s something you add at the last minute after the letter is complete. Typically, you don’t add postscripts to formal letters; if you need to add something, you’ll have to revise the whole document to include the new information.

P.S. Rob got the position at Great Company! Thanks for all the support during his unemployment.

The Envelope

In the United States, the maximum weight for a first-class letter is 3.5 ounces. If your letter is more than three pages or you’ve written it on heavy paper, you’ll have to weigh it to make sure it meets the requirements. The size and shape of the envelope matter too. It has to be rectangular and less than roughly 6×11 inches or you run the risk of the post office returning it.

Sending a Letter

After you’ve determined that the envelope is the right kind, the hardest part is over. Now, you just have to mail it. (If it’s a personal letter, you can always deliver it yourself. In that case, just write the intended recipient’s name on the outside of the envelope. A bonus of hand-delivery?: You can use any size or shape envelope that you want!) In the top left-hand corner, write your name and address or attach a mailing label. In the center of the envelope, carefully write the address of the recipient. Besides the state abbreviation and zip code, international letters should include the country for both the destination and return address. Postage rates vary. Check the USPS website for current prices or use a forever stamp for US destinations. Double-check that everything is correct on the outside of the envelope. If it is, fold your letter and insert it inside neatly. Don’t seal it until you’re sure that you’ve included every page you intend to send.

Doesn’t it feel good sending a letter that you know you’ve carefully prepared? Certainly, a well-written letter has the best chance of accomplishing its purpose. But what about a cover letter for a job application? Cover letters have their own set of best practices. Read everything you need to know about how to write a cover letter before you send out your next resume!

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