#hes from canada and a lot of places do say donuts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | three

A/N: Thanks again for your positive feedback on this mini-series! Please keep those canon questions coming as you guys know I loooove answering them to help build the canon! This one is a short one but it will be made up for by the last two chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

Brock and Grace were having fun. Actual, genuine, real fun. Whenever they were together, they were smiling and laughing and kissing and having a good time. They’d go out to eat at Vancouver’s best restaurants. They’d take walks in parks or along the seawall. They’d get coffee at cute little cafés and munch on bespoke cookies or donuts that would make Brock complain about extra hours in the gym. They’d invite Elias and Svea with them and it would be great, because they were great, and they’d all just be constantly laughing. Grace and Svea got closer – much closer. Elias and Brock were tearing it up for the Canucks. Grace and Svea would go to bars for a glass of wine before going to games together. They’d cheer and clap and sing along with all the songs being blasted throughout the arena.

Fun. Life was fun.

***

“How do I bite it?!” Brock was incredulous at the size of the cupcake Grace got him. It was bigger than his jaw could open. Elias and Svea were already ready with their damn phones to film him. “I can’t…” he tried to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just put the whole thing in your mouth!” Grace exclaimed.

“That’s what she said,” Elias mumbled, only to garner a disapproving mother look from Brock and a slap on the arm from Svea. “What! Isn’t that the joke?!”

“Don’t be crass,” Svea chastised before focusing her attention back on Brock. “Just bite the thing, Brock. Just…just stuff it in there,” he pretended to do the motion herself.

“Again, that’s what she said.”

Grace hit Elias too this time.

***

“You can get us reservations to Hawksworth?” Svea asked in shock.

Grace nodded casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world to get a reservation at Vancouver’s best and most exclusive restaurant. “The Gillespie’s own the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.”

“You do?”

Grace nodded again before sucking back on an oyster. “When do you want to eat there?”

“Oh, I – I don’t know. Can I get back to you?”

“Of course! Just let me know.”

“Wow Grace,” Svea said. “You really do have the world at your fingertips. Vancouver especially.”

Grace shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a blessing and a curse. I can’t go anywhere without running into someone that knows my dad or knows who I am and thinks they know me. It’s even worse when they knew my dad a long time ago and only ask about how he’s doing with his Parkinson’s now. Most of the time they don’t even truly care. And I’d trade it all in, every single penny, if it meant my dad never got Parkinson’s.”

Svea couldn’t imagine living that kind of life. She didn’t know how Grace did it – or Brock, for that matter. She would be a sobbing mess on the floor every single day. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive when I—”

“Oh God no. No no no – you don’t need to apologize. I just…” Grace paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “I know how fortunate I am, believe me. I just don’t think people know that – that I know I’m fortunate. But Parkinson’s – any chronic illness – it really humbles you. Most people don’t know what that’s like. And like, thank God they don’t. But they think they know.”

All Svea could do was nod her head and listen.

***

Whenever Brock sent a text that said ‘come over and watch a movie’ Grace knew what that really meant. But instead of finding it lewd, she’d slather on some raspberry chapstick and be on her merry way to Brock’s apartment.

When they were done, and lying in bed together, with her head on his chest and her hair sprawled everywhere, that’s when the talking would begin. “How’s your dad doing?” “Are the new round of meds working?” “Is he having more trouble getting up now?” “What are the doctors saying?” “How’s his memory?” “How’s the swallowing?” “Are the doctors recommending speech therapy?”

“When I quit dance, my dad was so disappointed,” Grace revealed one night as Brock was running his hands through her hair. “It was the only thing I was ever really, really good at. I wasn’t the best in school. I just didn’t get things the way other kids did. And when I told him the reason, he made me promise I’d keep doing dance in some capacity. I maybe wouldn’t do it super-competitively anymore with him driving me all around BC and flying me all over Canada and the US to attend competitions, but I’d still do it. That’s why I teach at the Goh Ballet. Like…I know I’m not the smartest girl in the world, but I like to think I have a big heart. And I just hope that people see that.”

“I wear number six because it was my dad’s number,” Brock revealed too, one night when they were alone. “I wanted…I wanted to make sure that if he wasn’t around, my career would still honour him in some way. I want that to be my legacy…like, everything I do, I do for my dad.”

Grace nodded. She completely understood. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who knows and understands exactly what I’m going through,” she said. “Do you think it was fate that brought us together at that meeting?”

Brock found himself nodding his head automatically. “Of course,” he said softly.

***

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have you at the house for dinner, Brock, but our chef is on vacation,” Eliza Carmichael, Grace’s mom, smiled from across the table as she sipped on her glass of wine. From beside her, her husband, Grace’s step-dad James kept perusing the menu, as did Grace’s two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo, who were seated at opposite heads of the table.

“Oh that’s no problem at all,” he smiled politely, grabbing Grace’s hand underneath the table and squeezing it gently before putting it in his lap. “I actually come here with the boys sometimes. The food here is amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it? James knows the head chef,” she said. “Grace tells me you’re a hockey player.”

It was at that point that James put down his menu. “Honey, he plays for the Vancouver Canucks. We’ve been over this.”

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully before picking up her menu. It was only at that point that Brock noticed the giant rock on her finger. It was the size of his eyeball. “Grace tells me you live in Shaughnessy,” he said, trying to make polite conversation. “I hear that’s a beautiful neighbourhood.”

“Oh, it is. Perfect place for the quiet life hockey player’s lead,” James joked. Brock forced out a chuckle.

***

“I love this song!!!” Grace exclaimed as the DJ began to play some old school Rihanna. She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass against the bar before grabbing Brock’s arm with one hand and Svea’s hand with the other, knowing that Svea would, on instinct, grab Elias’s arm and drag him to the dance floor too.

The club was completely unstuffy. There were no girls dressed to the nines, no four-inch stiletto heels digging into Grace’s feet, no people showing up just to be seen in booths with bottle service. It was completely unpretentious and that’s how Grace liked it. Considering her lifestyle and her wealth, it was actually how she liked everything. So when the DJ began playing pop songs, she couldn’t help but start dancing uncontrollably. To his credit, Brock did too. It was like he lost all his inhibitions and began moving his body in tune with the music. Even Elias and Svea did, and Grace knew how…well, quiet they were. This wasn’t their scene at all but they were having the time of their life dancing with each other, spinning each other around and moving to the beat of the music.

For at least a night, Grace could forget. She could forget how her parents used her to get back at one another during an awful divorce. She could forget her mom re-married an equally as nice guy as her dad but became more pretentious as the years went on and the wealth accumulated. She could forget that she made the decision to quit dancing professionally. She could forget her dad had Parkinson’s. For one night, everything was perfect. Everything was fun. Everything was how it should be.

***

“Fuuuuck, baby,” Brock groaned as he watched Grace climb on top of him, leaning forward so she could press his breasts up against his face. He immediately took the opportunity to place wet, open mouth kisses all over her breasts, kissing down to her nipples before taking them in his mouth. He could feel her grab his cock and lower herself onto it, sighing at the feeling of him filling her up. “Feel good?”

“You always feel amazing,” she smiled, her hair falling around her face. “That’s why I can’t stop fucking you.”

Brock chuckled, a cocky smile on his face as he reached up and brought Grace’s face down so he could kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat. “Ride me, baby,” he mumbled against her lips.

Grace began rocking her hips back and forth, her body moving so expertly and so in tune with Brock’s. Almost immediately, she began to moan, and Brock grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers so she’d have something to brace against. Brock was in a trance – as he usually was when Grace was riding. He was completely and utterly transfixed by her in every sense of the word, and in every way; from the hair on her head to the red nail polish on her toes.

“God, I fucking love you, Grace.”

The words had barely escape Brock’s mouth before he realized the magnitude of what he said, how he said it, and when he’d fucking said it. God, he was such a fucking idiot!!!!! During sex?! Really?! Way to live the cliché Brock Boeser! Way to be a fucking idiot and—

“I fucking love you too, Brock,” he heard Grace say, a smile adorned on her face. The both of them giggled, and couldn’t stop giggling for a while even though she was still riding him. It was miraculous. “Way to say it for the first time while I’m riding you,” she joked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said.

“You’re lucky I love you, because that’s such an amateur move, Brock.”

190 notes · View notes

gaemkyuu · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Keep Pretending (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character)

Warnings: mentions of cheating and sexual innuendos, but nothing explicit. A/N: Just a thought that came to mind when listening Back to December by Taylor Swift. Hopefully, you like it! Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

I can’t keep pretending (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character)

“Happy birthday-...Charlie?”

“Cadence?”

Both people stood at Owen’s door, speechless and shocked to see one another. After a beat and a pause, the air grew uncomfortable and awkward as they stood there staring at each other.

“Charlie, who is it?” Owen called from the Kitchen, shaking Charlie out of his trance. He motioned for Cadence to enter the apartment, who rushed over to Owen and gave him a big hug.

“Cady! So good to see you!” Owen gave her a bone crushing hug and lifted her off her feet as he hugged her, something he enjoyed as she was quite short. “I thought you were leaving today!”

“I am! I was on my way to the airport and I wanted to stop by and give you your birthday gift” Cadence handed him a beautifully wrapped rectangle box, which Owen opened up eagerly. All the while, Charlie stood awkwardly in the background, never really straying far from the front door, watching the interaction between the two. “Figured that since you were going to start shooting for season 2, these would come in handy” Owen pulled out two drumsticks and flickered light when they made contact with each other.

“You are the bestest friend ever!” He gave her another bear hug, thanking her for the gift.

“I thought I was your best friend?” Charlie pouted, something which Cadence softly rolled her eyes to.

Owen and Cadence had been friends since they were 5 years old, as she was the first friend Owen made when he moved back to America from Germany. The two went to school together and eventually were homeschooled together when Owen pursued acting and Cadence pursued figure skating and dance. Being next door neighbours helped build their friendship too. Even when Owen scored his first gig as Crispo, Cadence was offered a spot on the Junior Olympic team and had to move to LA. Their mothers loved the timing and the two friends couldn’t complain, but as they grew older, their careers would often take them to different places. Owen lived in between Oklahoma and California, while Cadence ended up living between California and Canada. Even though their careers were taking them in different directions, they always made time for one another.

That’s how Cadence met Charlie.

When Owen started filming Julie and the Phantoms, he often visited Cadence when she was free, since she was training in Vancouver at the time. Naturally, Cadence met the cast and they all became friends very quickly, which led them to spend a lot of time together. Her and Charlie naturally hit it off as she loved everything to do with skating and he loved hockey. The connection over the ice rink evolved into commonalities with favorite TV shows and soon everyone around them disappeared. Not that anyone minded! To be honest, everyone, including Owen, thought it was a matter of time before the two got together. Cadence was calm, poised and controlled, while Charlie was the opposite. They pulled out the best in each other and when they broke up, their friends mourned over the end of their relationship too. It didn’t help that it wasn’t a pretty break up either.

“You are my best friend Charlie, but you’re more like a bro, y’know?” Charlie smiled and Owen’s phone began to ring. “It’s my mom, let me take this call!” and without a thought disappeared into his room, leaving Cadence and Charlie alone.

“So, how have you been?” Cadence couldn’t handle awkward silences and she silently cursed Owen, knowing he knew how she felt about Charlie. “Working on any new projects?”

“Other than Julie and the Phantoms, nothing is coming up. But I did do a fun Netflix short film type thing, so there’s that” He sat down on one side of the couch and Cadence followed, sitting on the other side. She sat straight, hands in her lap, shoulders a little stiff. He sat hunched over, hands linked together, shoulders sagging. “How about you? Owen said you qualified for 2022 Winter Olympics”

“Yeah, I did. Just training for that really.” another awkward pause, both people looking for something to say. “Are you excited to start filming?”

“Yeah. I mean it’s been a while and we’re excited to get on board, so there’s that...” Anyone could tell that Charlie was looking for some way to prolong his response so that there were no more empty spaces, but how could they so that since the last time they saw each other was when they broke up? Especially when it was something that people talked about for weeks...

***

Charlie drank way too much that night. A combination of work stress and missing Cadence had gotten to be a little too much, resulting in one too many drinks and a few poor judgement calls later. Some girl at the bar had wanted his attention and Charlie couldn’t help but think she looked a lot like Cadence. Next thing he knew, she was giving him hickeys and making out with him, something Charlie didn’t fight at the beginning. However, in the drunken haze, he had a moment of clarity where he pushed the girl off of him and walked home to clear his head. He would have to explain this to Cadence because he felt guilty about it, but he was sure she would understand.

Charlie found out the fastest way to sober up that night and it involved Cadence standing in the living room with a box of Tim Horton’s donuts, looking confused, shocked and heartbroken. Charlie then became painfully aware of the hickeys decorating his neck and the fact that he was stumbling into his apartment at 2am didn’t help his case.

“Cadence? I thought you were in Vancouver for the rest of the week?” he saw her grip on the box of donuts tighten.

“I wanted to surprise you” her voice wavered, and she took careful deep breaths to stop the tears from falling. “Should I even ask?”

“Cadence I swear, it’s not what it looks like. I had a little too much to drink-”

“If it’s not what it looks like, then what is it Charlie?” he stood there speechless and stuttered to come up with an explanation. No matter what way Charlie tried to recount the events of the night, each version sounded worse than the previous version. “So you drank too much, saw a girl that looked like me, made out with her, even though you knew I was in Vancouver?”

Charlie couldn’t speak because she recounted the events of the nights exactly as they happened. He didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry Cadence”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Charlie. I’ve been working my butt off and to come home to see you like this?! I knew being apart was hard on us, but if you wanted out of the relationship Charlie, I thought you would have the decency to break up with me and not cheat on me!” the tears spilled over and Charlie’s heart broke. He had never seen her cry and he hated being the reason for the first time that he did. She placed the box of donuts on the counter and picked up her duffle bag that she had brought with her. “I’m going to stay with Savannah. Don’t bother calling me when you’re sober”

***

“You guys, my mom is the sweetest! She dressed up Bindi in a birthday hat to sing happy birthday to me!” Owen walked back into the main living area, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them.

“Hey O, I gotta head out and catch my flight back to LA. My driver’s out front waiting. I just wanted to stop by and wish you happy birthday” Cadence got up quickly walking to hug the man, who gave her a big hug in return. Charlie stood up as well, not sure what to do with his body. The two friends headed for the door and gave each other one last hug.

“Thank you for stopping by! Congratulations again on qualifying future Mrs. Mathias-Perez” Owen yelled down the hall smiling and closing the door. He turned to Charlie to discuss what the plans were for the evening, but stopped when he saw the look of shock, confusion and anger on his face.

“She’s engaged? To that guy she’s been with for six months?” Charlie couldn’t figure out if he was mad or upset or both. Sure, it had been a year since they were together, but surely anyone would agree that six months was way too early for an engagement! “Owen, you don’t even like the guy! How could you let her get engaged?!”

“Charlie, she’s happy. For the first time in a long time, she is happy. I haven’t seen her this happy since she was with you. Sure, I may not like the guy, but she deserves to be happy. If he makes her happy then who am I to take that away from her?” Owen tried to empathize with Charlie, but knowing how the relationship went down and how he was a part of both peoples’ recovery process, he couldn’t take this away from her. “Plus, I thought you didn’t care anymore Charlie”

It was true. Charlie acted like he didn’t care that Cadence broke up with him and tried to be very nonchalant about it. For the most part, he kept up this facade, when in reality it was how he was coping. He didn’t want to admit that he messed up and was the one in the wrong, but he also knew there would be no one else like Cadence.

“I don’t. I just think it’s a little messed up, that’s all.” Charlie tried to shrug it off, hoping Owen would drop it. “Anyways Birthday Boy, what’s the plan?”

***

Owen knew that neither one of them were over each other. He knew that Cadence getting engaged was Cadence trying to fill the void to forget about Charlie. He sat with her in person or over the phone every time she cried about it. He knew how much she loved Charlie and when he broke her heart, Owen watched her as she tried to pick up the pieces. He was there for all of her sleepless nights where she would toss and turn and relive that night that she left Charlie’s apartment.

Owen was also there for Charlie. He knew that Charlie’s attitude was a self-defense mechanism to ward off any attention about how he truly felt about losing Cadence, but one night he got a little too drunk and confessed to his group of friends how he really felt. Charlie didn’t remember pouring his heart out to his friends, so they kept it quiet, choosing to remain friends with both of them, but respecting the fact that they didn’t want to see each other.

Their friends became hopeful three months after their relationship when they agreed to celebrate Savannah’s birthday as a big group. It was that night that Charlie and Cadence spoke for the first time about what happened, and while no one was there to hear the conversation. They agreed that the most they could be were simply friends, even though the feelings were still there. They didn’t talk to each other unless they saw each other at a mutual friend’s gathering, and even then it was never just the two of them. They said the odd occasional happy birthday on the group chat with friends, but never addressed each other via text or call. They kept the relationship very platonic and a ‘contact only when necessary’ method.

One can imagine how surprised Charlie was when he received a fancy invitation inviting him to her engagement party. At first, Charlie felt like it was an attack, stating that she was happier without him, but then he realized that she really meant it when she said that she wanted to be friends. This is what friends do. They invite each other to celebrate monumental moments in their lives with them. Yet Charlie felt his stomach dropped as the engagement really sank in. Cadence was moving on and he missed his chance.

He really debated as to whether or not he would go, but Owen finally convinced him that he had to go or else he would confirm everyone’s suspicion that he still loved Cadence and that he was bitter that she was moving on. No matter which way he looked at it, his absence would be felt among his friends and Cadence. Therefore, he put on his best semi-formal attire and headed to the event in Malibu with Owen. He was grateful that his other friends were there as it eased the tension a bit and helped distract him from only thinking about Cadence. However, he couldn’t stop himself from being concerned when Cadence’s husband-to-be pulled Owen aside to whisper in his ear. The look on Owen’s face meant something was up and Charlie couldn’t help but sneakily follow him. Charlie hid around the corner and peaked at his friend who was knocking urgently on the door.

“Cady, open up, it’s Owen!” he kept knocking at the door but no one answered. “Cady come on, I can hear you crying in there. Let me in” again no answer, causing Owen to sigh in frustration. He saw Owen exchange some quiet words with her fiancé, who nodded as both of them walked away, Charlie quickly hiding himself, in hopes that he wouldn’t be seen. He couldn’t tell you why he followed them, or why he walked up to the door after they had left, or why he softly knocked, but Cadence opened the door at his knock not expecting to see him. Before she could protest or ask him anything, he gently pushed her back into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it again.

“What are you doing here?” she sniffled, turning to the mirror dabbing her eyes. This was the second time he saw her cry.

“I should be asking you that question” she scoffed at his remark and felt the tears spilling over again. Charlie didn't say a single thing and sat down on the love seat. Looking around the room, he could tell it was just a small powder room for the guests to use for some quiet time or for a mother to nurse. He watched as Cadence paced the room wiping her tears, waiting patiently for her to speak and desperately trying to come up with what to do. “Y’alright?”

“I’m totally fine!!!” she yelled at him exasperatedly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you” he chuckled at her apology

“It’s fine. I deserve it” this caused a small smile to appear on her face. “Wanna talk about it?” At first she shook her head and paced around the room some more, but finally caved. She plopped down beside him on the love seat, head in her hands.

“I have the most wonderful fiancé who has been there for me and who has made me feel happy again. I should be the happiest person in the world, but I’m not. Girls would kill to have him as a husband and here I am feeling like I am making the biggest mistake of my life.” she sniffed some more and Charlie passed her a Kleenex.

“Why’s that?” he inched closer to her and started rubbing her back. It was something he did when he knew she was upset because it brought her comfort. Apparently this was something he shouldn’t have done because Cadence shot up from the couch and stomped away from him.

“Because I still love you!” she turned around and faced him, tears falling down her face. “I don’t understand why! You made out with another girl at a bar drunk because you missed me! I should be mad at you and I should think that you’re the scum of the earth! Yet, I continue to be friends with you and see you around with our friends, and I have to keep pretending like I don’t think of you! I have to pretend that I don’t miss you anymore! Wishing that you asked me to marry me and not him!” she slapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the phrase left her mouth. “I didn’t mean that... I’m not thinking straight... I’m just stressed and under a lot of pressure” Charlie was sure she was saying this to herself, making it even more obvious that she was not confident about going through with the engagement.

“Cady take a deep breath. You’re going to trigger a panic attack at this rate” she followed his orders and sat back down beside him. He wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her arm in hopes to soothe her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, the silence filling the room once again.

“Do you still love me?” The desperation in her voice was unlike anything Charlie had ever heard from her. It was as if she was begging to hear the answer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, thinking about what he wanted to say, ultimately settling for the truth.

“I never stopped. I’ve regretted every moment.” The two sat there in silence, letting his answer sink in. “I can’t ask you to forgive me because I don’t deserve it. I can’t ask you to be with me because I know how much I hurt you. I have debated over and over about whether or not I should try to convince you to give me another chance, but Owen was right. He was able to make you happy again after I crushed you. Who was I to stop you from moving on?”

The door suddenly opened and in the doorway stood Owen and Cadence’s fiancé a little out of breath, but holding the key to the room. A look of shock and happiness crossed Owen’s face, but confusion and hurt crossed her fiancé’s face. Both of them rose quickly, Cadence wiping away her tears and fixing her dress, Charlie taking one big step away from her.

“Hi Darling. Charlie was looking for the bathroom and ran into me in the hallway. I was just feeling overwhelmed, but he was able to talk me down from an anxiety attack.” Cadence knew that was the stupidest excuse for what just happened, but Charlie took that as a cue to leave, Owen following suit, leaving the two to discuss in private.

“You alright man?” Owen asked patting Charlie on the back.

“Yeah. Uh, I think I need to head home. Pretty sure her fiancé doesn’t want me here any more. Cover for me? I don’t want to cause a scene” Owen nodded understandingly. He could tell that more transpired between Cadence and Charlie than what they were letting off.

Charlie drove home, knowing that Owen could easily catch a ride with one of their other friends. He drove from Malibu to LA with the windows down blasting music, lost in his own thoughts. He would give anything to have a second chance with Cadence, but he knew that sometimes you mess up so badly, that you don’t deserve that second chance. He couldn’t blame her for the choices she made that night. When his ex girlfriend, before Cadence, cheated on him, it took him a whole year before he started considering liking someone, let alone dating them. Heck, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cadence hated him for the rest of her life. Yet she confessed to still loving him and wanting to be with him, something Charlie wanted so badly. Pulling into his parking space, he lowered down the music and shut off his vehicle, the silence on the way to the door a little too much for him. He quickly got ready for bed, something he thought of as pointless because he knew he would lie there all night thinking about what Cadence said.

What if he begged for her back?

What if they got back together?

What if he proposed to her?

As he lay in his bed, he put on some music, hoping that the melodies would help ease his mind. This was something he always did when he felt overwhelmed. He would put on some music, close his eyes and just listen. Charlie didn’t know how much time passed as he was lost in his thoughts, but a sudden pounding at the door jolted him out of bed. Startled and a little frazzled, he took a moment to compose himself, wondering if he was hearing things or if there was someone banging on his door. His question was soon answered when the banging occurred again. Throwing on some pants, he rushed to the front door, confused as who might be banging. He glanced at the clock by the front door quickly before answering it: 12am.

Cadence stood there for a brief second before hugging him tightly and confessing. “I couldn’t do it Charlie. I couldn’t marry someone when I’m still in love with you. I’m still pissed that you hurt me and I haven’t completely forgiven you, but I can’t be without you. I can’t be with anyone except you” Charlie held her in his arms tightly, as if this was a dream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I put you through. Be mad at me, do whatever you want to me. Just please give me a chance to make this right” he pleaded and she held him tighter. “Will you give me one more shot?” he pulled away to look her in the eyes and the next second her lips were on Charlie’s, who gladly kissed her back. He took a few steps back and she kicked the door close with her foot, their lips never leaving each others. Their kiss was filled with so many emotions. It was as if it said “I’m sorry”, “I forgive you”, “I’m still mad at you”, “I miss you”, and “I still love you” all in one go. As they slowly separated and stared deep into each other’s eyes, the silence actually felt like it belonged. The buzz of their phones distracted them and they broke the kiss. Rolling their eyes at the text and making eye contact affirmed that they had gotten the same text. Charlie placed his and her phone on the counter, kissing her again passionately, and dragging her back into his bedroom. They had a lot that they needed to work out.

‘I told you so’ -Owen

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #fanfiction #imagine #owen joyner

87 notes · View notes

wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years

Text

{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 7: Free Day - Iceland & Latvia

A/N: Submission #7 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Aaaaand the last day! I was originally planning to do Canada and Cuba (a platonic pairing I just adore) for this day until I realized I didn't actually have any solid story ideas for them :')

Sooo I chose Iceland and Latvia instead, because I imagine the two to be pretty good friends. This is just a high school au (bc as many of y'all know I'm a sucker for them) that I came up with one day while sitting in class lol. You can choose to see this as taking place in the same universe as the fic I wrote for family week (the Anko Family submission for Day 5, Embarrassment) if you wish, bc everything lines up pretty much to a T. Also, my demiboy Iceland hc is back, so he/they pronouns again.

Also, here's the reference for human names again (though most of these characters are only briefly mentioned):

Emil - Iceland

Raivis - Latvia

Leon - Hong Kong

Michelle - Seychelles

Mei - Taiwan

Lili - Liechtenstein

Ok, I hope you guys enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

Being a librarian's aide at a high school wasn't nearly as bad as it appeared on the surface—well, at least for Emil it wasn't. It was always nice and quiet (for obvious reasons, since it was a library), and it allowed him to get out of a couple of boring classes which he didn't even need to take since he'd already received all the credits for them. Plus, the librarian herself was always very nice and even gave him free coffee and donuts from the teacher's lounge on most days. So, needless to say, Emil actually liked being her aide very much.

It wasn't even that much work, honestly. Not that much work at all. Usually just stacking returned books back on the bookshelf and taking out papers from the printer and giving them to students and teachers. Emil didn't have to interact with too many other kids as there were only a couple of other aides—a senior girl who was the librarian's secretary, and a boy named Raivis who Emil was pretty sure was a sophomore. Raivis basically did the same tasks as Emil, placing books on the bookshelf and whatnot.

Raivis was a curly-haired brunet who was very short for his age, barely even coming up to Emil's shoulder; he had a round boyish face that added to his middle-schooler look. Though he seemed to be a pretty quiet kid, just like Emil, since the two worked together they evidently had to communicate with each other sometimes—and honestly, Emil really enjoyed talking with him. He seemed to have a lot of the same interests as Emil—video games, indie music, hell, he even liked science fiction novels too—and a similar personality to them. Emil wouldn't exactly consider themselves close enough to Raivis to consider him a friend, probably just a very good acquaintance; however, they definitely saw the potential for friendship. It was there.

Sometimes Emil wondered if Raivis even had any other friends, as they'd never seen the boy really talk to anybody else. They wondered where he sat at lunch and tried to recall countless times if they'd ever seen him at lunch with anybody else (at their school, all juniors and sophomores had the same lunch period, so Emil knew that they had lunch with Raivis).

Anyway, on one Thursday morning Emil and Raivis were in the library, organizing books in the—what do you know—science fiction section. They had set their uneaten donuts and coffee on a nearby table and were just talking and laughing among each other, as well as sharing some of the good books they'd found that they happened to have read in the past. Emil made a mental note of all the reading suggestions Raivis had given him. I'm gonna have to check out those books when Mrs. Newman lets me pick some out again, Emil thought to himself (Mrs. Newman referring to the librarian). Another perk to being a librarian's aide was that they got to pick out more books than the other students, about three to five every other week.

Everything was going okay until these two boys who Emil had never seen in the library before casually walked up to the table that had the two's donuts and coffee and sat in the chairs.

However, Emil just kept their attention on Raivis, who was laughing as he told them about this one dystopian book, holding it up so Emil could see. "Yeah! And the best part is when—" Raivis stopped talking abruptly when he noticed the two boys there; his eyes grew wide and he got a...scared look on his face? Hurriedly, he shoved the book back in its spot on the shelf, averting his eyes from the boys and holding Emil's arm loosely, trying to guide him away from the section they were at. "Um...how about let's go sort out the encyclopedias," Raivis suggested quickly.

Emil cocked his eyebrows, now very confused. "But what about our food?"

However, Raivis didn't respond and instead continued to try to push Emil away from the boys.

"Hey, short stack!"

Raivis visibly cringed at the voice of one of the boys. This prompted him, as well as Emil to lift their heads up. One of the kids was cackling annoyingly, while the other one had carelessly taken a bite out of one of Raivis' donuts.

Seeing this latter action immediately caused Emil to furrow their eyebrows. "Hey, what the heck?" they said sternly. "That's Raivis' food."

The kid who'd eaten Raivis' donut snickered. "Yeah, no shit, Dad."

"Emil, just leave them alone..." Raivis said quietly, still holding onto their arm.

Emil ignored him and, though his heart was pounding nearly out of his chest with nerves, he continued to try to set the two boys straight. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Newman if you two don't stop," he threatened.

The other boy, who'd started to drink Raivis' coffee, set his cup down and made mocking jazz hands. "Ooo—Mrs. Newman. I'm so scared," he said sarcastically.

Emil shot the two one last glare and went up to the front of the library to do what he'd just said he would do—tell Mrs. Newman. As he began to walk, he heard the sounds of pounding footsteps, splashing, and then a high-pitched wail that could only belong to one person. Emil whipped his head around and gasped. The kid with the coffee had dumped the entire beverage onto Raivis' head; it was dripping from his hair, and onto the floor.

Now simmering with anger, Emil stomped up to the two kids—he was about to yell something until he heard one of the boys snort loudly and then run up to place the now-empty cup of coffee into Emil's hand. The ash-blond didn't have time to be too confused; he was much more concerned for Raivis at that moment. He prepared to yell at the two boys to get the hell out (he honestly didn't care at that point that they were in a library) before he heard a voice behind him: "Hey! What are you two doing?"

The teens all looked toward the voice and saw Mrs. Newman standing there, hands on her hips, her expression very angry looking—though not at Emil and Raivis, rather at the boy that'd spilled coffee on Raivis' head, as well as his friend.

The two boys, though they'd just mocked Mrs. Newman a mere few minutes prior, stood there, scared, until they glanced at each other briefly and then dashed out of the large library doors. Emil smirked internally as they saw this. Now they're afraid, huh? they thought to themselves.

Mrs. Newman stared at the boys like a hawk as they ran out into the halls, but once they were out of eyesight she turned to Raivis, her face instantly growing from full of anger to full of concern. She walked up slowly to the boy, gently placing her hand on a part of his arm that'd been untouched by the coffee. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Raivis shrugged his shoulders slowly, his face looking so solemn, so pitiful. "It's fine..."

The tall blonde woman turned to Emil then. "Honey, will you take him to the office to get a fresh change of clothes?" she asked. "He will probably need to use one of the showers in the gym too...can you walk with him, please?"

Emil nodded instantly. "Yeah. Sure thing."

Mrs. Newman smiled back. "Thank you."

Soon, the two teens were walking off to do just that. Raivis was very quiet all the way to the office—which Emil could understand one hundred percent. Poor kid must've felt so embarrassed. He decided he wouldn't make the situation any worse for him and kept his mouth shut, too. They swiftly went to the office to get some spare clothes and then got the clear to go down to the gym bathroom so Raivis could wash up.

The two got to the gym and were standing in front of the door to the bathroom; Raivis glanced up at Emil, his face a little pink. "Um," he began, holding his hand out a little, "could you give me the clothes?"

"Oh, yeah," Emil replied, handing Raivis the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Raivis nodded his thanks and headed on in. After he shut the door, Emil just decided to sit against the wall and wait for him while he showered and changed.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Raivis finally came back out. Emil looked up, put his phone back in his pocket, and then stood up. "How was it?" he asked the sophomore.

Raivis sighed deeply; his eyes were very close to watering, even though he looked and smelled as fresh as a daisy. "Um...okay I guess," he answered, voice quavering a little. "There was a lot of coffee on me."

Emil nodded, but tsk-tsked. He began to walk out of the gym, and Raivis followed close behind. "Who even were those kids?" Emil asked.

Raivis shrugged, looking down at his toes. "Eh, just some kids from my grade. They're jerks."

Emil bit his lip. "Seems like it. I can't believe they put that coffee cup in my hands like they were trying to frame me or something," he said. He laughed, a bit bitterly.

Despite himself, Raivis managed to chuckle a little. "Yeah. Don't they know Mrs. Newman has cameras in there? She could've checked them if she really wanted to."

Emil snorted. "I know, right?"

It was silent for a moment afterward, with Raivis gulping loudly every now and then. Emil turned their head, noticing this. He cocked an eyebrow, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Raivis (who Emil could tell now was definitely on the verge of crying) sniffled and rubbed at his face. "Yeah," he answered, voice hushed. "It's just...thank you, Emil. No one has ever stood up for me like that."

The boy's voice was so sincere that Emil had to grin. "It's no problem—really."

"You're a great friend," Raivis added.

Emil's heart was warmed at that—they didn't know if it was just the way he said it, or the knowledge that he actually thought of them as a friend. He answered warmly nonetheless. "Thank you. You are too."

Raivis glanced at him and gave the most genuine smile Emil thought he'd ever seen on the younger teen.

"Hey, where do you normally sit at lunch?" Emil asked Raivis, just out of curiosity.

Raivis' smile fell a bit. "Oh...well, I normally just sit outside," he said quietly.

"Alone?" The word seemed to echo in the empty hallway, though it might've just been Emil's imagination.

Raivis nodded a bit solemnly. Emil grew the same solemn expression for a moment before asking, "Hey, would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

Raivis looked up then, eyebrows shooting up. "Really?"

Emil nodded, cracking a small smile. "Yeah. I sit with my best friend, Leon, and then my other friends, Michelle, Mei, and Lili. Leon's really cool; Michelle and Mei might seem a bit...much at first, but they're really nice and cool too."

Raivis' expression slowly began to brighten the more he heard Emil talk, until he paused. "...Are you sure that's okay? I wouldn't wanna ruin your guys' lunch..."

"Trust me, you won't," Emil assured instantly.

The sophomore paused for a minute, as if thinking. "...Okay. I'll sit with you guys."

Emil grinned. "Good. I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

The two continued to walk back to the office to get passes for their next class in comfortable silence, the content feeling one feels after finding a new friend overwhelming both of them.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph iceland #hws iceland #aph latvia #hws latvia

14 notes · View notes

lilhawkeye3 · 4 years

Text

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

#ohio discourse #50 states reviews #oregon #midwest #california #texas #New York #massachusetts #deep south #midatlantic #New England #united states #the clone wars #DISCOURSE COMMENCE

87 notes · View notes

switchbrainedholylime · 3 years

Text

O, Canada

A small gift of Renga fic to @emmettspeakz

Reki laid on the floor awoken by the sun’s rays. He and Langa had just ended up having an impounti sleepover at his workshop since he stayed up until 3 in the morning fixing up their boards. The redhead looked over at Langa who muttered to himself in his sleep.

“Oui, j'aimerais le pain au chocolat (Yes, I’d like the chocolate croissant). Oui, l'école va bien (Yes, school’s fine)...Papa, quand nous reverrons-nous? (Father, when will we meet again?)...Adieu,” Langa opened his eyes only to see a very confused Reki. “What’s wrong?”

“You were just sayin’ some weird stuff in yer sleep.” Reki answered.

“Oh, was I talking in French again? Sorry, I grew up in a resort town between Quebec City and Montreal, where there’s a lot of French-speakers. I speak French, English, and Japanese.” Langa yawned, “Sometimes I speak another language in my sleep.”

“Really? That’s so cool.” Reki’s eyes glistened.

“My adopted dad Oliver-”

“Wait, wait, hold on. You’re adopted? Since when?” Reki’s glistening eyes turned to confusion.

“Yeah, haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t look like my parents?” Langa pointed to himself. “My biological dad gave me up to his two friends Oliver and my mom when I was...4? Yeah, that sounds right. He was really busy with work; he’s a UN representative for Canada and he felt it’d look bad on his part to have a bastard kid so he swept it under the rug. Though it might come out if I go through with Miya on competing in the Olympics in a few years.”

“That sucks, I had no idea...,” Reki sighed, “Who am I kiddin’? I’m practically in the same boat. My dad works at a black company. The old man gets maybe four hours of sleep a week if he’s lucky. I never want to end up like him, just tied to an office chair.”

“What do you want to do?” Langa asked.

“I don’t know. Skate, I guess.” Reki yawned.

“Yeah, but even skilled skaters like Cherry and Joe have day jobs. Hell, even Adam does and he runs the circuit.” Langa brought up.

“Man, don’t bring up that bastard’s name this early in the morning.” Reki groaned. “Besides, I got that job at the shop.”

“We both know that’s not gonna pay the bills,” Langa pointed out.

“True.” Reki sat up, “Our English teacher said the career survey’s due on Monday. Ugh, I still haven’t got a clue.”

“You’re pretty good with your hands and handling tools. You don’t want an office job, and I can’t blame you. Maybe technical school?” Langa suggested.

“Joe mentioned that last week. He said he’d be glad to write a letter of recommendation for the trade school he went to, but I don’t know if I’d like to work in a kitchen.” Reki looked over at his tools. “Maybe a handyman? I’d probably like fixin’ things up a whole lot more than I would be at my dad’s place. Just thinking about being a boring salaryman makes me wanna puke. Dad always looks so miserable, like someone just yanked his soul out of his chest.”

“So sort of what you looked like after skating with Adam?” Langa asked. “Except all of the time?”

“Please don’t say that bastard’s name. It’s too early in the morning.” Reki moaned and rubbed his eyes. “Or ever say it,”

Langa laughed lightly as Reki pouted. “Hey, I wasn’t joking!”

“I know.” Langa smiled and then planted a small kiss on Reki’s cheek. “My biological father and I meet up to have dinner once every six months. I only recently mentioned that I was dating you in a text and he told me he wants to meet you.”

“I’ll need to brush up on my English then.” Reki sighed.

“I’m sure Boyer-sensei will help.”

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

Their English teacher was a brunette American woman they called “Boyer-sensei”. She had a larger frame and was pale. She walked around collecting the career survey forms from her students. As usual, Reki was looking at his phone, texting with Langa about a new skate trick they saw on Instagram.

“Reki Kyan. Langa Hasegawa.” Boyer-sensei looked down at the redhead and blue-haired skaters. “Do you have the forms I passed out last week? The student council wants them to be collected by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah,” The couple handed them to their English teacher.

Boyer-sensei was genuinely shocked. “You never have your homework done.”

“Are your standards really that low for us?” Langa appeared distraught.

“Yes, they are.” Boyer stated firmly as she read Reki’s list. “A repairman...construction worker...hold on, are you really Reki Kyan? You’re not an Auton, are you?”

“What’s an Auton?” Reki asked.

“It’s a monster from Dr. Who.” Langa explained. “They create replicas of humans. Do you not have Dr. Who available in Japan?”

Reki was quiet for an awkward moment. He wasn’t sure. “Well, I figured it was a weird nerd reference.”

“Anyway, Boyer-sensei, most skaters have day jobs. I’m NOT giving up skating anytime soon.” Reki grinned and winked over at Langa who smiled back.

“I guess that makes sense. I-I just never thought the day would come where you have a single brain cell or atom of responsibility in your veins.” Boyer-sensei was floored. “The world really is ending.”

------

A few weeks later, the day finally arrived where Reki would have to get into a decent pair of dress clothing for the first time since...ever. Cherry and Joe helped Reki pick out a traditional red yukata that didn’t feel trashy as his regular look but not so stuffy it made him visibly uncomfortable.

[SNOW (LANGA): Just got in his rental from the airport. I gave his coiffeur your address. We’re on our way.]

[REKI: Cool. Waiting outside.]

Reki stood at the edge of his driveway tapping his skateboard nervously. He tried to imagine what a fancy-ass version of Langa would look like in a suit with the UN logo.

A vintage red BMW pulled up. He instantly recognized Langa who was in a iron pressed dress shirt and khakis. The coiffeur was a local man he recognized as a regular at S and the shop, but he was silent the entire time.

Next to him was a man with Langa’s exact same hair, face, and height. The only difference the eye and hair color along with the fact that he wore glasses. He had blond hair and purple eyes. His dad didn’t look that old. He looked like he was in his early twenties. He was even more well-dressed than Langa and Reki combined. A satin beige suit, Italians handmade shoes, slightly wavy hair that smelled like fresh-brewed coffee.

Shadow looks older than this guy. Reki blinked, his face full of confusion. Did he say father or brother? Reki was almost positive Langa said father, but how young was he when he had him? Two?

Reki shook his head. Just don’t blow it, don’t sound like the moron you are in front of this fancy-dancy foreign guy.

“Hey, Langa! Got a fancier ride than usual?” Reki greeted them with a smile.

Langa blinked at his and the other man. “Yeah, you wanna get in.”

The moment Reki got in there was an awkward silence. Reki sat in the middle of the two Canadians. The redhead had a million questions but the air in the backseat was so thick.

“So you smell like coffee.” Renga stated as Langa shake his head. “That’s a good thing. I usually smell like sweat and Mountain Dew. I actually took a shower today and brushed my teeth.” Reki smiled brightly.

“Good, glad to know.” The diplomat smiled nervously. “My name’s Matthew Williams, PhD, Canadian UN diplomat.”

“I’m Reki Kyan...I like to skate. I work part-time at this skate shop with Langa. We’ve been dating for...I think four months.” The redhead explained.

“I’ve heard from Langa’s mother. Thanks for teaching Langa and being with him. So is there skate hotels you like to frequent?” Matthew asked.

“Does the hospital count?” Reki asked.

“I wouldn’t exactly give it five stars. Langa, has Japan been treating you well so far?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah, most people are pretty nice. There’s no Tim Hortons, but I’ve gotten addicted to Ramen. Still would love a donut every now and then.”

“That’s the place where they sell donuts instead of fries, right?” Reki looked over at his boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Langa replied.

“Man that sounds delicious!” Reki smiled.

“So Langa, your mother told me that you and Reki had a falling out a month ago because of this shady person called Adam.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

“You know I’ve made people...disappear before for ignoring me, causing me trouble, just being an obnoxious brat of a twin brother who tormented me since 1867 until I couldn’t take it anymore.” Matthew stated with a mixture of innocence and sinstery. “I could make this ‘Adam’ person disappear, too. I’ve made good friends with Russia since we used to share a border back when Alaska was part of the Soviet Union.”

“What do you mean ‘disappear’?” Reki’s eyes widened. “Wait, how old are you? You were around during the Cold War...that’s um, Langa?”

“Alaska was annexed by the US in the 1950s.” Langa stated.

“Right, I knew that.” Reki nodded. “Uh, so wouldn’t that make you seventy or something? Like my grandpa’s seventy-three and he’s got really bad teeth.”

“Reki, why don’t you tell him about your career survey?” Langa smiled.

“Oh, I’m planning on going to technical school.”

“That’s nice.”

There was an awkward silence between the trio.

“So...are you going to charge me anything for making Adam ‘disappear’? You’re not going to get in trouble for that, are you?” Reki asked.

“I have diplomatic immunity.” Matthew replied, “Laws don’t apply to me.”

“Well, I won’t lie it is tempting.” Reki bit his lip.

----------

1 week later

Reki, Langa, Miya, Shadow, and Cherry relaxed at Joe’s Italian restaurant as the TV played the noontime news.

“Politician Ainosuke Shindo has been found in his mansion dead since yesterday morning. It’s suspected that the killer used radioactive poison to taint his food. If you have any information, please contact the police.” The newswoman stood outside of Adam’s mansion that was taped off.

Everyone looked over at Reki and Langa.

“What?” They stared around at their fellow skaters.

#ooc #aph canada #canada #sk8 the infinity #renga #langa #reki kyan #cherry #joe #adam

16 notes · View notes

stone-man-warrior · 3 years

Text

December 4, 2020: 4:36 pm:

https://twitter.com/ABC/status/1334908215751024642

A wide array of demolition experts were required, engineers were varied, and many.

"Fire in the hole!" was shouted by one crew.

"Timber!" exclaimed another.

"Head-ache!" was heard throughout the area.

and...

"Fore!" was the last thing that was said at the event. Later, at the wake, Saint Barbara was seen hoisted from a passing helicopter, clutching a staff.

https://twitter.com/CatholicSat/status/1334878612466569216

==========================

In other news:

Kenny Wayne Sheppard was featured again in an encore performance interview discussion about a Jimmy Hendrix guitar riff, was first presented by Premier Guitar (PG) during the same time that Twitter was still a Beta Twitter, in around 2008 or so. The interview is presented as new, fresh, while in reality, it’s old, stale.

https://www.premierguitar.com/articles/31101-hooked-kenny-wayne-shepherd-on-jimi-hendrixs-voodoo-child-slight-return?goal=0_93db14e670-5fc2cb0a63-65512397&mc_cid=5fc2cb0a63&mc_eid=941be062ce

Shepherd: He has a Hellcat. a Virgin White Hellcat. A car that can do wheelies by factory design and intent, comes with a Pit-Crew Tool Box filled with tools and spare suspension & steering parts, and, some additional Pizza Cutter front racing wheels for the track, all for just a little more than 100K. Remote ignition, standard.

Those chairs there: Play the turn around Kenny talks about. He is talking about how a guitar riff talks. A talking guitar riff is noted by Kenny, literally, and figuratively noted. The talking guitar riff is one that was made famous by a black man, who played a right handed guitar, upside down, and backwards, left handed, with strings reversed. I am feeling that Kenny wants to play the turnaround on the Twelve Barr Blues.

Very subtle message there from Kenny Wayne Shepherd.

Those two guilded chairs, in the garage, where the White Virgi Hellcat is at, are what you need to turn around. Just one of them. Arrange the two chairs such that the Arm Rests are touching, a Arrrrmmm rest handshake there. From above, Bird's Eyes Maple view, the two chairs form a letter S when arranged correctly.

(Saturn & Jupiter will be one degree apart in the knight sky.)

The S is a Grommet female terror soldier. She has a gauge piercing between her vaginal and anal cavity. (garage ideas here) The pierced gauge is usually plugged with a inserted grommet, for feminine highgene, while it is removed, or, a specially customized Grommet is inserted there depending on the kind of attack plan the Grommet terror soldier is to carry out.

Kenny says: "Turn the Grommets around", or, “Make Grommets”, or some other message about Grommet Soldiers, and PG drives the message. See John Bohlinger.

What does it mean?

Idunno.

I do know that the news about Saturn & Jupiter appearance in the knight sky with just one degree of space between is the "taint" in the sky.

737 MAX Airplane Grommets all over the place, thousands of them, releasing gas. That is what the Grommet is for. The inserted Grommet that also has a donut hole within, serves as a place where the nitrous gas release tube of the rectally holstered nitrous tank, "crosses" over from one cavity to the other. The human female Grommet soldier sounds like a frog when the apparatus is used outdoors. Many Grommets hiding in a wooded area, sound like many frogs. In a city environment, many Grommet soldiers all in a line at an event near a flood drain in a curb, also sound like many frogs. The frog sounds that are produced. are searched for by people who are nearby, they hear the frogs, and want to see the frogs. There are no frogs though, there are Grommet terror soldiers. There are swordsmen hiding in the darkness where the Frog Grommets are playing their tune.

The story about the two planets is a way to say to "heat the frying pan by one degree". Frog in a Frying Pan terror attack is done, Kenny called it, news media made it happen.

It could be a much bigger event than a Grommet in the woods making frog sounds while releasing gas to lure victims into a creek area in the night to search for frogs. It could be a Boeing Bouncing Bullfrog of 737 MAX overhead attack to assist many ground soldier swordsmen. Bouncers at The Club while Rikky Riccardo is playing Babaloo. "Lucy... You got some Splainin' to do?" On Fri, Dec 4, 2020 at 2:15 PM Premier Guitar <[email protected]> wrote:

<snip>

===================================================

Grommet Math, one more time:

The Grommet’s are sometimes called “YoSoY”, with that arrangement of capital Y, S and lower case o.

Yo = Frontwards; Forward

S = The Grommet itself, a plug installed in the Septum that exists between the vagina and anal cavity of the female, nitrous gas armed, Grommet terror soldier.

oY = Backwards, Yo.

The plug is removed sometimes, is modified to produce desired sound effects, and other effects that are beyond what I know, and is useful for releasing a very subliminal and primal odor, one that is not supposed to be there, but is there, when the Grommet attack happens. That right there causes a lot of problems for marked men at the attack area. The odor of the female is there, so is the nitrous gas, mixed with Medazolam.

Modern warfare is advanced with old proven means, with the addition of modern technology.

Not all of the Grommet soldiers are gauged that way by choice. Many are kidnapped US Citizen victims who’s parents were killed, then were trained as disposable terror soldier captive slaves. There are many kidnapped child terror soldiers taken from the schools. The schools taken over, serve as terror training centers. Children receive a specialized education at the schools, and the schools are protected by the terror army. They don’t look like terror training centers, they look like public schools, and are maintained the same as public schools have always been maintained, with some modifications that could be found if only there were some people willing to watch the baby.

YoSoY is the Grommet soldier in written form, or graphic form adaptations, such as the two guilded chairs in Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s Hellcat Virgin White Garage where those chairs make the S septum when the VooDoo Chile voice is spoken the way the Shepherd says to say it. “Slight Return“.

The video was presented originally more than ten years ago when Oregon was slaughtered, people all killed and replaced with Canadian terror army soldiers, thus, the Slight Return of the VooDoo Chile is important for repeat of the same attack that already worked successfully in Oregon, is commanded to commence again, to take over other regions.

Where? Everywhere, that’s where.

When? now and ongoing for fifty years, this is the final blow, the Boeing Bounce at the Club. French North American Republic Territory comes next, replaces the geographic region that is currently occupied by Canada, USA, and Mexico. A new nation. It’s a Communist Kingdom. Mitt Romney is scheduled as first King, Justin Trudeau as first Prime Minister. That leadership arrangement may have changed, maybe not.

The Romney/Trudeau arrangement is not difficult to see that Romney is to be presented as a Front Man for the show, a magician, has a lot of hokus pokus up his Mormon sleeve, and can summon a lot of “Dark Side” Mormons to do whatever needs doing in the “New Salem” FNART Capital, wherever it may be. While Trudeau is the Queen‘s Pet, the real power, has the teeth of HMS Trudeau behind him. The French part is a nod to Quebec.

===================================================

There is a lot to look at today on the Twitter news feed of terror commands. Do your own research to find connecting stories about overhead ideas. There, you may find clues that could be used to stop a massive attack with poison gasses delivered from the sky, sea, and ground. Gas that precedes and assists sword wielding terror army soldiers who are well equipped with tools and vehicles that are designed for road building, but are used as weapons, detour, delay and distraction, and housecleaning afterwords, associated with the aerial attack from above.

I just included a small glimpse of the terror comm, there is much to look at today, and a lot of that is distraction, cover and confusion service provided by newsmedia to slow efforts to stop the attack of Corona Virus/COVID.

===================================

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bohlinger_(musician)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Premier_Guitar

https://www.premierguitar.com/

Use a lighter, burn candles. The gas they bring is flammable. Light them up and watch as they burst into bits, and launch into orbit like a rocket.

End terror report: 5:19 pm.

============================================

Bonus (see additional comments below in the comments area) 6:58 pm:

Donald Trump and other Verified Accounts have been referring to “Tense” conditions about some different things presented on Twitter, this is only one clue about the Ford Bronco for 2021 of many that are available to find if you look for them. It’s a big deal. The Bronco serves many uses, but the most important one is that it’s a reincarnation of a Land Rover Range Rover w/three factory roofs in 1990 or so. See the Bronco as a Crowning Achievement for terror soldiers from Canada, lead by SAG and Britain. See it as the horse on which a Royal Canadian Mounted Police is perched, in command at US State Police Offices throughout USA. That will get you started.

https://www.ford.com/suvs/bronco-sport/?searchid=10524085194|108057202550||brcspr-ret-n-200714&ef_id=Cj0KCQiA2af-BRDzARIsAIVQUOfHBxJyrh6XJ2y2Vqt1njqxPHmbEC8nplF9A13CEDCOj9ud2hTFv5YaAjUYEALw_wcB:G:s&s_kwcid=AL!2519!3!447747038581!e!!

https://twitter.com/CNN/status/1282842515037716480

<snip>

Make Canadian and British Geldings. Start with the Pope, he has all the right tools for the job. Boris will show you the way, a guide.

=====================================

Additional 12-5-2020: 11:59 am:

These young people are super talented.

This tune was posted to YouTube on Thursday 12-3-2020. Close your eyes, and give a listen.

youtube

Music industry producers use these kinds of talented people to advance a message. They have no choices but to go with the flow.

Right now in 2020, we are, and have been experiencing a black hole where the good music used to be, these guys fill the void, the producers know it.

They have been inserted into the terror time-line. These guys are used as some kind of small place holder to say messages about the advance progression towards the aerial Boeing gas attack we are about to receive. They, along with the insertion of Greta Thunberg, are like the minute markers on a clock.

minutes.

Thunberg fits in with a pirate motif. She showed up in USA, by boat, unchecked, from Europe, at a time when Guatemala Caravan people were being tossed into captivity at containment centers, separated children from parents, families broken apart, help captive, while Greta Thunberg waltzed right in during the same set, at the same show, at the same concert, at the same venue... USA.

So, the bus came by sea. The victims were taken on land, far away from where the sea bus landed on shore.

Greta Van Fleet has been around a little longer than the Thunberg Sea Bus, as far as I can tell, but maybe not. I remember Greta Thunberg from the Beta Twitter in 2008, but I don’t recall knowing of this other Greta, Van Fleet, until around 2013 or so.

I am bringing this into this entry because of the timeline, and the Amazon Prime 100,000 Renault Delivery vans that are deployed now, doing nitrous gas refill work for mobile terror soldiers on attack on location, globally.

There is a Trinity Rule that I can see developing in the reveal, and that Grata Van Fleet tune has an eerie sort of Apocalypse now kind of Jim Morison sort of The Doors vibe happening in it... I can almost smell the napalm in the morning after hearing “The Age of Machine” today.

I like the song, the band members are talented, they are young, and are being used to send the message of the Producers.

The Trinity Rules I am seeing develop are in that there are two Greta’s, each one has it’s own thing going on that is of interest, there is another Greta out there somewhere that will show up to satisfy the Trinity terror rules. It will a Ghost Ship though. So, you take two Greta’s, one came by sea, one is on stage singing songs with interesting titles, there is a traffic song they do, and some others, interesting videography from Greta Van Fleet, and Greta Thunberg is also an interesting videography, is also “On Stage”, just a different stage, an abstract one.

The idea about the Fleet in the name, combined with that catamaran, and that the band plays a song called the Safari Song, and other small connecting dots, suggests that the connection to the Trinity for the Ghost Ship to come soon, is contained in a “Fleet”. A Fleet of Boeing Grounded 737 MAX. That is worthy of inclusion here with the Ford Bronco for 2021, in a round-a-bout, mysterious way.

I am still trying to reach US and Global security people with this part of the entry from yesterday. The timing I have in seeing what I saw to write about is matching the advance of the terror comm in explainable ways... I need help, I need more brain power to unravel all of the small parts of the terror puzzle that GCHQ built with help from SAG Writers Guild.

Please help.

I like this song too, I think that place in the video is called “Vasquez Rocks”, along the 15 Freeway between San Bernardine, and Victorville, where a very long train is almost always on the tracks on the opposite side of the 15 there.

When the Curtain Falls ~Greta Van Fleet

What kind of curtain do you suppose could happen?

“Cocktails... cocktails...”

youtube

6 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Punk

Punk: A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2648

Warnings: Smut (M|F, Oral and Vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers falls for the punk girl from next door. Maybe you have more in common than appearances would have you believe.

A/N: Normally when I do a reader insert I try and make the reader as physically a blank slate as possible. Sometimes I slip up a little by saying they put on Steve’s shirt or he runs his fingers through her hair or that she blushed. But I do usually try not to do any of that so you can put yourself physically into the reader. This is not the case with this one. @abigailredgrave and I actually hashed this out for a while. Part of what appealed to both of us with this concept was huge straight-laced Steve with a tiny punk girl. So she has a lot of physical descriptors. I have tried to be racially ambiguous still. But you are going to have to pretend you’re skinny and 5′1 and covered in tattoos. Sorry if that’s off-putting. I would normally only do that with OC’s but we decided on Reader for this.

Also, this was written before Black Panther and Infinity War so it’s based on a post CW world that doesn’t exist.

Punk

Steve sits sketching at his desk. The only light in the room coming from the dusty desk lamp next to him and the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling in the living room where Bucky lies on the couch reading. The stray tabby cat that had decided to adopt him sitting on his chest.

They’d been on the run for several months now. They’d settled in Canada, but even though Canada had been one of the countries not to sign the Accords, they were still playing it low key. Not venturing out too far. Only trusting select people.

He heard the drumbeat first and smirked. He remembered how annoyed he was the first time that asynchronous sound drifted through the walls. How he’d lain in bed holding his pillow over his ears, cursing under his breath. How eventually he’d cracked and stormed next door only to be greeted by you. 5’1, spiky pink hair, arms covered in sleeves of tattoos, dressed in a men’s shirt that fits you like a dress that had ‘The Ramones’ printed on the front. You’d been brushing your teeth and as soon as he’d asked you to turn it down you’d apologized profusely.

“Oh hey! I’m so sorry, man. I thought that apartment was empty. I’ll keep it down from now on.” You’d said as you’d stared up at him, toothbrush still in your mouth.

The following day you’d shown up dressed in a leather jacket, torn black jeans, boots and a leather collar around your neck. You had donuts and coffee for him to apologize. When you’d seen that Steve was living with Bucky and neither of them was fully clothed as they went about their morning routine, your first assumption was they were together. When you’d asked Bucky had laughed at you.

“With this punk? He’s not my type.” Bucky had said.

After that Steve had just found himself drawn to you. It made no sense. You were nothing like him. You were everything he wasn’t. Small and fearless. Ready to stand up for yourself and anyone around you. Colorful and social. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Sounds like she’s home!” Bucky calls out.

Steve gets up and wanders into the living room. “I should tell her to keep it down.” He says.

“You gonna ask her out this time?” Bucky asks, looking up at Steve. His hand absentmindedly going to going to the cat’s head and giving it a scratch. It flexed its front paws and started purring loudly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Like she’d be interested in me at all. What do we have in common?”

Bucky bursts out laughing, disturbing the cat. It jumps off his chest and runs under the couch. “Steve. If you were born a girl in the nineties she is exactly who you would be. She is more you than you are because you always tried to act respectable and she’s just ‘fuck it, fight me’.”

“But…”

“But, nothin’, pal. So she has tattoos and dies her hair and she’s small. Did you forget you were small once too?” Bucky says.

“I didn’t get tattoos or dye my hair,” Steve says, hunching his shoulders.

“Stop making excuses,” Bucky says simply. “You know she turns that music up so you go over there right? She stopped doing it for a whole week and then when you didn’t come ‘round she started doing it again.”

“You think?” Steve says. He’s hopeful, but also terrified. He hasn’t dated. He doesn’t know how to do it at all. Let alone in this world. Let alone with you.

“I know. Now go tell her to turn it down.” Bucky says.

Steve heads over and knocks on the door. You were waiting for him and when you open it you just launch yourself into his arms. “Stevie!” You squeal as he closes his arms around you, completely enveloping your tiny frame in his large one. “Is the music too loud? I’ve been to a concert and my ears are all blocked. You ever get that?” That isn’t a lie, but that isn’t why you have the music up. You know it draws him over.

“Sometimes… not normally from music though. Once it was from aliens.” Steve says as he lets you go.

You head to your stereo, switching it off. “Your life is crazy.” You say. “You wanna drink?”

Steve chuckles. “You’re talking so loudly. But yes. I’ll have a drink.”

You go take a beer out of the fridge one for you and one for Steve. He opens it and drinks. Sometimes he questions why he bothers. He doesn’t love the taste of beer, and he doesn’t get the added effects most people get when they drink it.

“Hey so, I know it’s not your thing. But there’s a club in town. They’re having a 70s punk revival night tomorrow. Some people put my name down on the door. You wanna tag along?” You ask.

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights. He does want to go with you somewhere. But he couldn’t think of a place where he’d be more out of place. You take a swig of beer and assess him as he internally weighs up all the pros and cons of saying yes.

“Nah, dude. Never mind. It’s not your thing I get it.” You say when the pause seems to be getting uncomfortable.

“No. No, it’s okay.” Steve says, quickly. The sudden fear he’ll miss the only opportunity he gets rushing in on him. “I’ll go.” He takes a long drink of the beer. “Tomorrow?”

You light up. “That’s wicked good. I’ll come get you. At say; eight? We can get food first.”

That’s how you and Steve end up on your first date. You walk the street together towards the club. You with your leather cuffs and jacket. Your thick black boots and your torn black tee and jeans. Him in his tan pants, sensible shoes, and light blue shirt. To his credit, he’s also wearing a leather jacket, but it’s tan too.

You couldn’t look more different if you’d aimed to.

When you both get to the club you give the doorman the name and he lets you in, you’re walking through the door when Steve gets stopped. “Where do you think you’re going, bub?”

You turn back to see the bouncer with his hand on Steve’s chest and Steve looking at you helplessly.

“Hey, what are you doing? He’s with me?” You snap, puffing your chest out.

“Yeah, well I guess you’re not going in either. Because Grandpa isn’t getting through that door.” The bouncer growls.

You shove yourself right up in the guy’s personal space. “Are you fucking kidding me? He is with me! My name is on the list!” You shout up into the guy’s face.

Steve shifts nervously watching you. Really not wanting to make a scene. Not being able to afford to make a scene.

“You wanna try something, little girl?” The bouncer growls, shoving you backward. You raise your fists about to launch yourself at him when Steve’s arms wrap around your waist and he drags you away. You struggle, legs kicking.

“Please stop,” Steve says, firmly. “I can’t have the police come. Do you understand that?”

You nod, taking a deep steadying breath. “That can’t just treat you like that because you look different.” You seethe.

He turns you to face him and caresses your thumb with his cheek. “Bucky was right.” He says.

Your breath starts to steady and you look up into his blue eyes. “About what?”

“He said you were just like me. You are so much like me.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You reach your hands up and put them around his neck, pulling him down to you.

“This is kinda fast for me.” He breathes, his lips are so close to yours. Not saying it because he doesn’t want it. Just because he feels it needs to be said.

His words startle you a little. You’re so used to guys just taking what the want. Rushing you. To hear this is not his norm is surprising. “Do you not want it?” You ask.

He answers by pressing his lips to yours. You had both expected just a brief touching of lips. It becomes so much more. Your lips part and tongues meet as they both try to access the other’s mouth. He pulls you hard up against him and you card your fingers through his hair.

Your skin feels hot, but not as hot as Steve’s. He realizes that in this moment he wants you. He’s been with other women before. But normally in the past, that happened after spending countless hours together. Usually working. He’d never just gone out and immediately wanted to go home again for sex.

You pull back and look up at him. “We did dinner. Do you want to just go home?” You ask.

Steve swallows and nods. You take his hand and get in the first taxi that will take you. In the back seat, you’re all over each other. Kissing and running your hands over each others body. You sneak your hand to his cock and feel him, hard and straining against his pants, before he takes your hand and moves it away.

When you get back to the apartment block, you rush upstairs taking two stairs at a time. You get to your apartment and scramble to unlock the door as Steve kisses your neck. Once in, jackets are shed. There is no illusion about coffee or watching Netflix, or any other reason why you should be here. You want each other, desperately.

Steve pulls your shirt off over your head and you start unbuttoning his. You get impatient and tear it. Buttons pop off and shoot across the room. Steve growls and lifts you off the floor pushing you against the wall. Kissing you hard. You wrap your legs around his tiny waist and he grinds his cock against you. You both moan at the friction of your pants pushing against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, Steve. I need you inside me.” You moan. You head falls back and he starts sucking on your throat. It makes you moan louder and your cunt starts to drip for him. Steve pulls back, a mark already forming on your skin.

“Say that again.” He growls. His cock aches. He wants nothing more to have it buried deep into your pussy. To feel your heat and wet squeezing tightly around him.

“I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me, Steve.” You mewl.

Steve grunts. No one has ever spoken to him like that before. His cock throbs in his pants. He carries you wrapped around him in the direction of the bedroom. He set you on your feet and you unhook your bra and turn around to take off your jeans. You do it slowly, wiggling your ass in his face.

Steve groans as he takes his own shoes and pants off. But it’s not just that you’re teasing him. It’s everything about you. Your tiny, feminine frame. The sleeve tattoos that continue down your back and curl around your waist, finishing at your hips only to take up again on your thighs. How bright your hair and skin look. With all the colors that don’t normally feature on a person naturally.

He drops his pants and boxers and steps out of them. Bucky had insisted he take protection with him. Steve had tried to tell him that he wouldn’t need it, he never moves this fast. But Bucky wouldn’t stop hassling him until he did. So he fishes the condom out of his wallet and rolls it on.

“Take those panties off,” Steve growls. He can’t even quite believe these are words coming from his own mouth. You look over your shoulder and smile at him before slowly dragging them down.

Steve approaches you and starts tracing along your tattoos with his mouth. He kisses the path they make on your back. His tongue flicks over your skin. As they loop back around to your stomach he turns you and you fist his hair in your hands.

He reaches your pubic mound which is when the tattoos stop, only he doesn’t. He tips you back onto the mattress and spreads your legs. You squirm as you anticipate what’s coming.

Steve spreads your folds with his fingers and flattens his tongue, lapping up your crevice. As his tongue slides over your clit you moan. He repeats the process again, getting intoxicated by the scent and taste of you. It makes his cock throb and leaks in the condom. He places large open mouth kisses on your pussy. His mouth is able to cover all of it in one go. You arch on the mattress and he presses a hand on your hip bone to hold you down.

He sucks on your clit and pushes two fingers inside of you. You start to beg. You beg for him to stop torturing you. To let you come or to at least start fucking you. You beg for his dick.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing though. As much as he wants to. As much as your words make him want to come even before he’s inside you. He keeps sucking and biting on your clit. His tongue flicks over it. He counters by dragging his fingers on the walls inside you. It all feels amazing and you’re close just poised to break when he finds your g-spot and presses hard against it.

You scream out and buck violently under him. Your orgasm tears through you. He pulls his fingers from inside you but his tongue keeps working on your pussy as you ride out your orgasm.

He stands and you both crawl up onto the bed. Him stalking after you. He kisses you and you cling to him. Your fingers digging into his back. “Say it again.” He whispers. “Beg me for it.”

He presses his cock against your pussy and starts sliding it up and down. The head presses against your clit with every forward thrust.

“Please, Steve. Please. I need your dick. I need it inside me.” You whimper. “Give it to me.” The last phrase isn’t begging, it’s ordering. He complies and he enters you.

You gasp and arch up as your body stretches to accommodate his girth. “Oh fuck... Fuck yes.” You cry.

He starts to thrust, moaning at the way your pussy feels squeezing around him. The heat and softness paired with the ridges and the way the muscles expand and contract. Milking his cock.

Your body is almost enveloped by his. You bite at his shoulder and wrap your legs around him as he curves his back to reach more of you with his mouth. He kisses along your collarbone and sucks at your nipples. You dig your fingers into him as he brings you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Steve… I’m gonna… Oh fuck… can I?” You babble.

He looks down into your eyes. “Of course, sweetheart. I want you to.”

You arch back and your core clenches as your second orgasm sweeps through you. The pulse of your pussy brings him over with you. And he empties inside of you.

As his cock stills, he slips from within you and pulls off the condom, throwing it in the trash. He settles on your bed beside you, and you curl into his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I told Bucky that I was absolutely not going to have sex with you,” Steve says, kissing your forehead. “That it would be too soon. I am not going to hear the end of this am I?”

You laugh and nuzzle into his neck. “From that punk? I doubt it.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #punk

145 notes · View notes

after-market-shop · 3 years

Text

Hair Stylist Tools American Flag Independence Day T Shirt

So I go into one of your victoria secrets store in newfoundland canada looking for a Hair Stylist Tools American Flag Independence Day T Shirt mastectomy bra and the young girl working looks at me and says a what a vasectomy bra what is a vasectomy bra I correct her on the name of the bra and she had no clue what it was I had to explain what it was and she said she would have to ask someone I watched her as she asked another young girl and I watched them laugh and she said no seriously educate your store managers and employees it s not bad enough to have breast cancer at age 35 but to have someone laugh at the fact I need a mastectomy bra and not even know what a mastectomy bra is when working in that line of work is completely disrespectful shame on you victoria secrets once I arrived home and realized what happened I decided to go on your website to see if you actually sell mastectomy bras I couldn t find them so I used your option of chat live this was the response I received needless to say justin never responded you as a company should be ashamed that this is how a woman a young adult gets treated after having breast cancer and has only one breast I cannot fathom a company such as yours treating a cancer victim this way I am extremely upset that this has happened to me and ashamed that someone would laugh over requesting such a bra once you lose your breast to cancer at such a young age it takes a lot to accept the look of your deformed body and after my acceptance of my body to go out and be laughed at is horrific I somewhat feel bullied and discriminated I feel the world needs to know just how I have been treated today by your company and that s just what I am going to do. Turning 3 3 on witnessthetour I got woken up w confetti attacked with silly string during yoga and all my fav people popped out from under the stage see the full bday shenanigans on xfinity. Today we honor mothers everywhere watch tina knowles lawson’s keynote address to students at usc Hair Stylist Tools American Flag Independence Day T Shirt

Hair Stylist Tools American Flag Independence Day T Shirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Longsleeve T-Shirt For Men and Women

Premium Trending Trending shirt this Season : Profession

Dear honest family our mission has always been to empower people to live happy healthy lives and recently we ve made huge strides in fulfilling that mission by bringing our products to more people in more places as a Hair Stylist Tools American Flag Independence Day T Shirt result we are experiencing technical issues and our phone system is currently down please know that we are working to resolve this issue as quickly as possible you re always our top priority and we want to ensure that we re able to help you in a timely manner for this reason we continue to offer support through live chat and email and are sharing some tools that can provide more immediate assistance with the following needs if you are inquiring about canceling your subscription click here if you would like to check your order status click here if you need to set up or check the status of your return click here we sincerely appreciate your patience and thank you as always for being a part of the honest family love honest. Please help if you can he is trying to save this magnificent from slaughter he just got 4 safe thank you and god bless ricky rogers screaming emergency ships in less than 24 hours gorgeous buckskin 3458 needs 450 donated asap no amount is too small please send to paypal me newhopehorserescue and comment and leave tag in notes. 今日帶埋媽咪去nars orgasm party 一齊扮靚靚有專人教我哋化靚個裝之餘又可以率先試用新產品有遊戲玩有禮物送 d 白朱古力士多啤梨 mousse cereal水果杯 cup cakes donuts 同埋d白桃石榴汁仲好好味添今日我哋玩得好開心呀多謝nars narshk orgasmpopup whatmakesyoublush

Another product: Archery Assuming I'm Just An Old Lady Was Your First Mistake T-Shirt

Trending for this post: Asian Paific Americans For Trump T-Shirt Lady Shirt

#Trending #Hair #Stylist #Tools #American #Flag #Independence #Day #T #Shirt

1 note · View note

set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years

Text

we are, we are, we’re gonna be alright

fandom: grimm

whumpee: nick burkhardt

hi this is a completely self-indulgent fic which i wrote for Me but like if you wanna read it go right ahead!! it’s some nick/hank bc. where the Fuck is the content for that. but it’s mostly in the second chapter while the first is more whump focused. anyway i hope u like this!! (title from afterlife by ingrid michaelson)

Chapter 1

Nick and Hank sprint through the halls of an abandoned apartment building, chasing down their suspect. He shoves over a piece of metal shelving, kicks an old ratty couch cushion at them, skids around corners, and jumps over junk with the practiced ease of someone who’s been living here for a while.

Nick leaps over the shelving, and Hank slides under it. They both step out of the way of the cushion, doing their best to keep up with the suspect, who, unfortunately, has the advantage at the moment.

They reach the opening of a perpendicular hallway. The suspect rushes down it, and Nick and Hank split up, Hank turning after him and Nick continuing straight on, in the hopes of trapping him between the two of them.

Nick races along, grateful for the lack of obstacles being pushed in his way. He sidesteps a cinder block - and his leg drops straight through the floor with a cracking sound. He collapses for a second, collects his bearings, then pulls his leg back out of the floor, feeling it twinge slightly as it scrapes the rough edges of broken wood. He pays it no mind, and gets back to his feet quickly, taking off running again.

Sure enough, he spots their suspect at the end of the hall, hurrying off to the left. He doesn’t see Hank following close behind, though, so he speeds up even more, feeling like his feet barely even touch the ground.

He catches their suspect in a matter of seconds, tackling him to the ground (there was that strange sensation in his leg again). They scuffle for a minute, but Nick quickly gains the upper hand. He’s about to cuff the man when Hank comes running up, breathless.

“Nice catch,” he says, as Nick clicks the cuffs on. “Bastard threw a metal chair at me.”

Nick nods, then stands, pulling the suspect to his feet. He has to pause a second as his leg starts to hurt - that’s the adrenaline starting to wear off, he knows. He ignores it as best as he can, hoping it’s not hurt too bad. The two start walking back down the hallway, Hank pushing the suspect along, Nick lagging a little behind.

“You okay?” Hank asks. Nick knows he’s limping, and he can feel now that something is definitely wrong. Nevertheless, he says, “I’m fine,” and wonders if Hank believes him at all.

They’re not more than halfway out of the building when Nick’s leg gives out from under him, and he collapses to the ground.

“Nick!” Hank fairly shouts, stopping in his tracks. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

Nick grimaces, just barely biting back a groan of pain. “Think...I might’ve hurt my leg,” he confesses, taking a steadying breath that trembles on the exhale.

“How bad?”

Nick shrugs, not wanting to say quite possibly broken. “Not too bad.” He shuts his eyes against a wave of pain. “Don’t know if I can walk all the way out of here, though.”

Hank thinks for a moment. There’s no service in this building, and Nick is insisting he’s not hurt that bad. While Hank doesn’t believe that line for a second, he also knows there’s little point in arguing. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he decides. “I’ll go put Mr. Downey here in the car, you wait right here.”

True to his word, Hank is back in slightly over sixty seconds. Nick knows because he’d counted. Anything to distract him from just how bad his leg is hurting. Broken, he thinks. Great.

Hank gives him a hand up, pulling Nick’s arm over his shoulders and starting off at a very slow walk.

Nick sucks in a deep breath as his hurt leg touches lightly against the ground. Hank notices, but Nick doesn’t tell him to go slower, or stop, or do anything as reasonable as pick him up and relieve the pressure on his leg, so, naturally, Hank takes matters (and Nick) into his own hands, picking him up as carefully and gently as he can, trying not to touch his hurt leg and make it worse while also supporting it enough so that it doesn’t move around too much.

It’s a testament to how much Nick must be hurting that he doesn’t even protest beyond a quiet, “hey-” which is cut off by a sigh of relief when his injured leg is relieved of its duties.

Hank walks as evenly as he possibly can out to the car, and deposits Nick into his spot in the passenger seat. He apologizes to the suspect for the delay, not really meaning it since it was chasing him that got Nick into this situation in the first place.

That done, he asks Nick if he wants him to call an ambulance as soon as they get back to service. Nick, predictably, shakes his head no.

“Just get us back to the station first. Drop Downey off, and then maybe we can drive there.”

Hank doesn’t argue, just glad he won’t have to force Nick to the hospital against his will.

The ride back to the police station is dead quiet. Hank hates the silence, but doesn’t dare break it. When they arrive, he wordlessly removes Downey from the backseat and maneuvers him towards the front doors.

Meanwhile, Nick leans his head against the cool glass of the window. Thus far, he’s done a pretty good job of sucking it up. He’s scarcely made a sound. But his leg hurts. He’s sure it’s not the worst pain he’s experienced, overall, but at the moment, semantics like that do absolutely nothing. It hurts now, and it hurts a lot, as though it’s on fire, a feeling only reinforced by the hot tears that have begun to run down his face. He takes a shuddering breath, fogging up the glass, and hopes that Hank will be back soon.

Hank throws open his door about five minutes later, having passed Downey off to Wu practically as soon as he’d seen the man. He owes him a box of donuts and a week’s worth of paperwork, but honestly, he’d have agreed to just about anything if it would have gotten him out of there and back to Nick.

Who looks absolutely miserable. He’s crying, on its own a rare sight, and seems barely aware of that fact. Some of the color has drained from his face, and, now that Hank really looks, his leg is definitely broken. He has a pretty good idea of what that feels like, and he’s amazed (but not entirely surprised) that Nick is keeping it together this well.

It can’t hurt to ask one more time, he reasons, and once again poses the ambulance question. They are sitting right outside a police station, after all. Nick only shakes his head, and he looks so pained and so sad that Hank doesn’t even care. He thinks he’d probably drive to Canada right now, if that was what Nick wanted.

—

Hank parks as close as he can to the Emergency entrance of the hospital. “We’re gonna have to walk,” he warns. “Unless you-”

“I know,” Nick says, and before Hank can stop him, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

Hank rushes around to the passenger side just as Nick takes a step. His leg folds up under him, and Hank grabs him, wrapping arms around him and pulling him close to prevent him from collapsing to the ground for the second time today.

Nick’s hands latch onto Hank’s jacket automatically, like he’s trying to hold himself up by that force alone. Hank feels them shaking through the fabric.

“I could run inside and see if they have a wheelchair,” Hank offers. Nick shakes his head, face pressed firmly into Hank’s shoulder.

“We have to get there somehow, man,” Hank points out.

Nick shrugs halfheartedly, not moving. Hank gets the message that he knows Nick is far too...Nick to actually say out loud, and picks him up again, being, if it’s possible, even more careful than before. Nick still makes a terribly fragile pained noise anyway. It’s the first real sound he’s made, and Hank mentally shudders to think how bad the pain must be for Nick to just let it out.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hank says, over and over, walking slowly up to the entrance. “You’re okay, it’ll be fine.” Nick only grabs his jacket tighter in response.

As soon as they get inside, Hank gently deposits Nick on one of the waiting-room chairs. He joins the thankfully-short line of people at the desk, and explains their whole situation as quickly and clearly as he can to the person behind it, who hands him a clipboard of papers to fill out, promising they’ll get Nick in as soon as they can.

Hank sinks down into the chair next to Nick, who is staring intently at the floor, leg held out at an angle like he doesn’t know what to do with it, clearly not having heard a word of that conversation.

“They’ll see you as soon as they can,” he repeats, and he begins to fill out Nick’s paperwork while Nick himself continues staring at the floor. Hank generously pretends not to notice the tears that are once again tracking their way down his face.

—

About fifteen minutes later, Hank is flipping idly through a magazine while Nick is back being examined. He hates not having any idea what’s going on, and the front-desk person had apologized profusely but insisted that Hank wasn’t allowed back with him. He knows, logically, that Nick will be fine, but he can’t stand not knowing for certain.

It’s perhaps half an hour later when a nurse pushes Nick out into the waiting room. She gives Hank a warm smile and hands him a small paper bag, explaining the painkillers it contains. She disappears for a second and comes back with a pair of crutches, which Hank also takes.

“He’s been given a mild sedative,” she explains to Hank, who is looking at Nick, who is looking at absolutely nothing. “He had a displaced fracture, which means that the pieces of bone on either side of the break were misaligned. We performed a minor nonsurgical procedure to realign them, but it can be painful, hence the sedative. It’ll wear off in a few hours, and he’ll probably sleep for most of that.”

Hank thanks her, gives Nick the bag (at least he’s aware enough to grab it), places the crutches across the armrests of the hospital wheelchair, and heads back to the car. It could have been worse, he thinks to himself. At least he didn’t need surgery.

Chapter 2

Hank drives the two of them back to his house, practically without thinking. If Nick minds this, he doesn’t speak up about it. Not that he’s doing much speaking up about anything. In fact, Hank realizes, he’s sleeping, his cheek pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass. He looks utterly exhausted, and if he were anyone else, Hank might tack on cute, but it’s Nick so he can’t. He just gives him a little smile (which he obviously can’t see) and shakes his head fondly.

By the time he pulls to a stop at his house, Nick has woken up and is, predictably, insisting he’ll be able to make it inside using his brand-new crutches.

It’s not a very far walk, so Hank somewhat reluctantly hands Nick the crutches, watching critically as he attempts to balance. Surprisingly, he manages to make it to the front door, which Hank has already unlocked, seeing as how he’d reached it a full minute before Nick and his crutches.

Hank ushers Nick inside, directing him to his bedroom and not giving him a chance to protest. Nick, thankfully, is out of it enough to not question Hank’s decision, and he promptly flops himself down on the bed.

And then nearly falls off when the weight of his cast, hanging off the bed, pulls him down. Hank pushes him back onto the bed and heads to the closet to grab another blanket.

He’s gone for scarcely twenty seconds, but when he returns, Nick is already asleep again, head turned so his face is pressed into the pillow. Hank gently drapes the blanket over him, smoothing it out and tucking it in slightly in a way he never would if he thought there was any chance of Nick waking up and asking him what the hell he was doing.

Two hours later, Hank is stretched out on the couch, watching a wildlife documentary and eating a slice of his favorite pizza (he’s earned it, he thinks). He’s wondering whether he should go check on Nick again when a quiet noise from his bedroom makes up his mind for him.

Hank stands in the doorway of his bedroom, watching as Nick slowly wakes up, looking around in confusion and mild alarm when he doesn’t immediately recognize where he is.

“How you feeling?” Hank asks from his position in the doorway.

Nick blinks at him a few times, processing, before he asks, “why’m I here?”

Hank shrugs. “You broke your leg,” he offers.

“Oh. Yeah,” Nick agrees. He reaches down a hand to touch his leg. “I don’t remember getting this,” he says, as his fingers brush against plaster.

“You were pretty out of it already, and they gave you a sedative.”

“Why?”

Hank tells him. Nick winces. “Glad I don’t remember it,” he decides. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty,” Hank says. “I didn’t think you’d be hungry, but there’s a couple slices of pizza if you want them.”

Nick shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“You wanna come sit on the couch?”

The moment the question leaves Hank’s mouth, he’s kicking himself. No, he doesn’t want to. His leg is broken, he doesn’t want to move.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Oh. “Okay,” he says, and hands Nick his crutches.

Several minutes later, they’re both on the couch, and another wildlife documentary is playing on the TV. Nick’s broken leg has been stretched carefully out onto the coffee table, and he won’t say that it hurts, but it hurts.

Hank knows, of course, and he wordlessly hands Nick two of the pills that the nurse had given him, along with a glass of water.

Nick stares at him for a moment. What do you expect me to do with these, he seems to say.

“I know it hurts, man. Just take them.”

Nick heaves a sigh, but accepts the offerings. He swallows the pills and makes a face.

“Was that really that bad?” Hank asks teasingly.

Nick shrugs, looking suddenly morose. “No,” he admits, but the tone of his voice tells Hank there’s something else on his mind.

He doesn’t push, though. Just moves a tiny bit closer and shifts his legs up onto the table to join Nick’s.

Nick falls asleep yet again shortly thereafter, his head dropping to the side in a way Hank knows will make his neck ache when he wakes up. He frets for a moment over what to do before deciding fuck it, and carefully rearranging Nick so he is lying across the couch, his leg propped up by a small stack of pillows. He grabs the blanket from the bed, refills the glass of water, and sets out two more pain pills on the table.

He stares at his sleeping best friend for a moment, simultaneously trying to encourage and stop himself. Before he gives it too much thought, he thinks, oh what the hell, and bends down to press a light kiss to Nick’s forehead.

It’s ridiculously soft and gentle and it makes his face heat up the second he pulls away, but he looks down for just a second and swears he sees the faintest of smiles wash over Nick’s features.

It’s gone in a second, but it’s there, and Hank smiles in response, feeling strangely happy despite the day’s events. He collapses into a chair, intent on keeping watch over Nick until the morning.

—

They both wake up the next morning sore and hurting - Hank from falling asleep in his chair, and Nick for obvious reasons. There’s a quiet second where they both just look at each other - clothes wrinkled from sleep, the book Hank had been reading splayed across his lap, a crease on Nick’s face from where it had been pressed into a pillow.

What I wouldn’t give for this to be my every morning, Hank thinks, as Nick pushes himself up on his elbows. His arm slips out from under him, and Hank reaches out instinctively, helping him up.

Nick turns and looks at him, his face unreadable but soft in the early-morning glow that pours through the windows. He smiles, a soft, still sleepy, slightly pained smile, and presses his forehead against Hank’s. “Thanks,” he says, so soft it could hardly even be called a whisper.

“Anything,” Hank tells him, and maybe that’s too much, but he means it, and then Nick is kissing him, soft and quick, a little unsure and tasting of morning breath and absolutely perfect.

Hank pulls away first, blinking in mild surprise. “Thanks,” he says, and then thinks to himself, could you have said anything dumber?

Nick grins, a full-on smile with not a trace of pain in it. “Anything.”

hi yeah this might have been ooc but i don’t care i love them and i wanted to make this Soft so i did and nobody can stop me....anyway if you read this i love you (and also you are now legally obligated to drop me an ask saying if you think i should re-dye my hair to dark brown/black before senior pictures or not)

#grimm #nick burkhardt #broken bones #broken leg #my writing #i say things #anyway like i said this was for Me but what the hell its for you too if you want #anyway theres a grand total of like seven nick/hank fics i can find and. i hate that so here's my first contribution #i dont know why more people dont ship them tbh i love them #like ok i have my suspiscions as to why....#oh also i know at the hospital you just get a perscription and then you have to go get it filled at like walgreens but i forgot #and i didnt really feel like fixing it so too bad #anyway i am serious about the hair thing Please tell me the pictures are wednesday and my hair is all faded now but idk if i should dye it #ok there is no way anybody read to here but whatever im talking still #today in other self indulgent news i bought two things just because i wanted to and i feel so powerful #i cant wait for them to arrive im so excited #anyway im in a good mood tonite so if for some reason youre still here i hope you have such a good day/night or whatever

5 notes · View notes

taehyungiestummy · 4 years

Text

Stuck -- Chapter Eleven

Masterlist Previous Next

Word Count: 3278

“This is perfect,” I smile, clasping my hands together.

The laptop on the table in front of me shows Emily, Eve, Abigail, and Laurel on the video conference I have set up.

“Ja, it is so nice to meet all of you,” Eve smiles. “Amber always gushes about her other friends, so it’s nice to get us all together.” Her accent is a bit of a shock, a twinge of European with her California base.

“Everyone is so pretty,” Abigail smiles, showing braces with pink bands.

“I agree,” I grin, nodding a few times. “Such pretty girls Skyping one another.

Eve chuckles, her blue eyes lighting up in happiness. Her hair seems quite long, reaching her hips when let down. It’s pulled into pigtails at the moment, naturally dark brown with blonde streaks dyed into the pieces near her face. Her face is a bit puffy, cheekbones high with a button nose. It seems to me that her skin is naturally tanner than my own. She’s the oldest out of us all, along with Laurel at twenty-three.

“Do you speak German?” Emily asks. “Amber and I took that as our foreign language in high school.”

“Oui,” Laurel grins. “And French. Korean, not so much. Good thing you haven’t forgotten English.” She has slight difference that make her look different than her twin sister Eve. Her eyes are light green, a nose slightly pointing upwards, normal cheekbones, a thinner face. There’s also a lot the same to show that the twins are indeed related. The tan skin, face structure, eye shapes, hair color, and height. Her hair is shorter than her sister’s, stopping at her ribs, and ombre to be even more different yet similar to Eve.

“French is such a beautiful language,” Abigail runs a hand through her spiral curls. Her dirty blonde hair is cut to be above her shoulders. She has light brown eyes behind glasses, but I know she has contacts. Her face still has baby fat, as she’s younger than me, and her nose is a bit flat like Namjoon’s. Her skin is a lovely caramel thanks to her mother’s background. I’m pretty sure she’s taller than me by a few inches.

“So, Amber, you think that it’s a good idea to Skype friends while BTS perform?” Eve teases.

“I can watch the concert on YouTube later,” I shrug. “Plus, they tell me all about it after they come off stage. I want to learn about the three of you.”

“I’ll start,” Abigail raises her hand for a few seconds. “If that’s okay.”

“Yes, go ahead,” Laurel smiles. “You seem like the most interesting.”

Abigail’s cheeks become dusted with pink. “Um, well, I guess I’ll start from the beginning. Um, I was born in Washington state, and lived there until I was five. That’s when we packed up and moved to Korea. It was hard for me. My Korean was terrible for my age, and I am super shy.”

“You poor thing,” Eve frowns. “I’m sure you powered through though.”

“Not on my own,” Abigail slightly smiles. “No one came up to me at lunch on my first day of school, and I thought I was going to have a meltdown. Then, a boy came up to me, wanting to cheer me up. He understood what it felt like, even just a tiny bit, to move across the ocean.”

“I think I could guess who it was,” Emily taps her index finger on her cheek a few times.

“Yeah, it was Vernon,” Abigail giggles.

“That’s so cute!” Laurel blurts out.

“I guess,” Abigail shakes her head. “That began our friendship, and I’ve been by his side ever since. I’ve supported him in every decision he has ever made. Even when I thought him becoming an idol would split us apart. It brought us closer. A lot closer. But, I think we would have become a couple eventually. I hope.”

“I’m sure you would have,” I tenderly smile. “He really likes you. In fact, he loves you. No doubt in my mind.”

“He’s such a dork, so it’s hard to tell. Does his emails to you ever say anything about loving me?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” I wink. “Has he never said he loves you?”

“Just a handful of times,” Abigail shrugs. “It’s sweet in a way.”

“So, what do you do?” Emily asks. “Like, I work at a daycare, taking pictures when I can. Amber writes literally whatever, dances backup for BTS. Eve draws, and I assume makes money. So, what do you do? And Laurel, you too.”

“My parents are very successful doctors, so I love volunteering at any place I can. Animal shelters, cleaning up parks, bringing Seventeen food I make, and more. I’m also in online school, so I live in the city with my roommate. We’ve been friends for a while, but just started living together recently.”

“You are always welcome to help at Eve and mines pastry shop,” Laurel smiles. “We’d pay you, of course, but it would be fun.”

Abigail giggles, “I’ll think about it. Sounds fun though.”

“I need to hear the story behind the pastry shop,” I fidget with my glasses.

“Start the story of us, Laurel,” Eve chuckles.

“From the top then,” Laurel claps her hands together. “Okay, so we were born and raised in Long Beach. Oh yeah, we are California girls. Our parents didn’t even grow up in the United States, though. Our mum is from Germany, and our dad from Canada. That’s why we know three languages.”

“I know four languages, thank you,” Eve rolls her eyes. “Korean is hard, but Jae and I can have a conversation. He struggles too.”

“Yes, yes, shut up,” Laurel pats her twin on the head. “Dad is high up the corporate ladder at some company, and that’s why they settled down in the states. Mum started a donut shop, and we’ve helped her with that for years. I love cooking, so that’s a big reason I asked for money to start up a sister store over here. I do have a degree in the culinary arts.”

“I wanted to move over here to reunite with Jae,” Eve smiles. “Selling art as a living means I can work anywhere.”

“Eve works the counter because she can talk to customers,” Laurel nods. “Just the two of us running a small pastry shop.”

“That’s where we can all meet,” I blurt out. “Ah, sorry.”

“That is actually a great idea,” Abigail speaks up. “I would be okay with that.”

“Before we plan that,” Emily breaks in. “Eve, how did you meet Jae?”

“Ah, yes,” Eve grins, nodding a few times. “Time for that story. Well, Jae and I have always been in the same classes, but I was an artist geek while he was a music nerd. He says he always admired me from a distance.”

“He’s such a dork,” Laurel chuckles.

“Yes, well, it’s cute,” Eve shoves her sister. “Anyways, I was working the counter one day, six years ago now, when Jae walked in. He wanted to see if he could sing on Friday nights, and Saturday afternoons.”

“Of course she said yes,” Laurel teases. “Jae was a huge nerd back then, but she was already crushing hard.”

I giggle, “I’m sure Eve fell for his personality.”

“Jae was cute back then,” Eve pouts. “Enough of that, I’m telling a story. So, we began to hang out a lot because he felt he owed me. Then, he asked me out. We were on awkward couple, but I was so happy. He loved looking at my art, and I always listened to him when he wanted to play his guitar and sing.”

“That sounds so cute,” Emily gushes. “Amber, you have some competition.”

I roll my eyes, “We can all be cute couples in some regard.”

“The cuteness ended, though,” Eve sighs. “Jae broke up with me to pursue music, and we were apart for a few years. End of last year we made the move, and I saw Jae again.”

“Like a damn movie,” Laurel interrupts. “They locked eyes, and Eve ran to him. Bursting into tears. Jae even cried a bit. It was touching.”

“We aren’t really dating now because of contract reasons, but I know it will happen when he is able to. We love each other. Have since the day he entered the donut shop that day.”

“Now, Amber, Emily, you have to tell your story,” Abigail smiles. “I’m interested to know how you met BTS.”

“Hold on,” I hold up my hand for a brief second. “I have one question for Laurel.”

“Ask away,” Laurel gives me a thumbs up.

“Who are you dating?” I run my fingers through my bangs. “There’s Tae and me, Namjoon and Emily, Vernon and Abigail, and kind of Jae and Eve. Who are you with?”

Laurel smirks, “Do you know the group Infinite?”

Everyone else in the call nods and voices their acknowledgement of the group.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe the groups that come into our shop. One day a couple of Infinite members came in, and I struck up a conversation with L, or Myungsoo, and we have gone out a few times. He’s sweet, and I am waiting to see if it’s all right.”

“That’s is incredible,” Emily smiles. “I hope it all works out.”

“Thank you,” Laurel smiles back. “Now, I think you two have a story to tell.”

********

“This is ridiculous,” I grumble, bouncing around on the soles of my feet.

“We did our performance, and now you can dance for us,” Taehyung smirks. “Even though you didn’t watch us.”

“What?” Jimin and Jungkook have wide eyes as they look at me.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi teases.

I pout, looking out at the boys lounging on the two best in Jimin and Jungkook’s room. “Tae, that was mean. I was Skyping my friends.”

“Taehyungie just likes to be a meanie,” Seokjin chuckles. “Be nice to your jagiya.”

“Thank you, Jin,” I smile, turning up my phones volume. “Always looking out for me. Unlike some people,” I move a chair so the area I will dance in is bigger.

“Jagi,” Taehyung whines.

“So kid, what are you dancing to today?” Hoseok kindly asks.

“Well, Hobi-oppa, I will be dancing to some BTS,” I smile at the boy. “Thanks for asking.

“Mr. Son has been teaching you well then, I’m guessing,” Namjoon sets his phone down on his lap. No doubt he was previously texting Emily.

“He’s the best teacher,” I fix my sweatshirt with chibi BTS on it before pressing play on the mix made to test my memory of dances. “But, you can judge for yourselves.”

The mix starts with the ‘Attack on Bangtan’ beginning, giving me the chance to hype myself up. I bit my bottom lip and send winks; smiles on the boys faces as I scrunch up my nose and make finger hearts. Doing anything silly to make the seven boys laughs. Then the real test of my dancing skills begins as the choruses of different songs play. First is ‘I Need U,’ and I execute the moves flawlessly. It was the first dance I ever learned, and I’ll never forget it.

“Nice going kid,” Hoseok cheers out.

I give him a quick grin as the next chorus starts.

The pace quickens as ‘Danger’ is the next song. I do my beset to be like Taehyung when he performed this routine. My tongue passes over my lips, and I wink right at my boyfriend.

Taehyung’s mouth hangs slightly open as his cheeks redden.

Before anyone can say anything, ‘Boy in Luv’ starts up, and I am falling into the moves. A smile graces my lips as I see the looks on the boys faces. The song fades into ‘War of Hormone,’ and I stumble for a second as I get my bearings.

“Kill it, cutie!” Jimin blurts out.

I giggle, sending a wink at the boy to make him become a squish.

‘No More Dream’ is the next song, and I feel the burn in my lungs. Just a little while longer, and the end bit will begin.

“Tease,” Taehyung chuckles as I fake lifting up my sweatshirt as I learned Jimin’s part.

I take deep breath as ‘Dope’ finally starts up. The last chorus I have to dance to. As I do the hip thrusts, the boys lose it.

“Ah!” They all shout out, clutching their hands over their hearts as they fall over on the beds.

The end of ‘Butterfly’ starts up, and I slowly lower myself to the ground. My breathing is labored, and my legs are burning, but it felt so good to dance like that for the boys.

“You killed it, kid,” Hoseok gives me a thumbs up. “You have skill.”

“I learned all that,” I grab my phone and glasses off the desk, placing my glasses on my face and turning the music off.

“Okay, we all knew you could dance,” Jungkook is back to a sitting position, along with the rest of the boys. “Maybe not that good, but we knew.”

“A few slips ups are expected, she just learned it all,” Namjoon smiles. “And she’s only been doing it seriously for a year.”

“Thanks,” I breath out. Finally feeling my lungs fully filling up.

“When you have your breath back, you have to sing for us,” Jungkook smiles.

“What song, Kookie?” I ruffle the hair at the back of my head.

“Why does he get to pick?” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest.

“Such a child,” Yoongi rolls his eyes.”

“Okay, I’ll take a vote,” I stretch my legs out in front of me as I sit on the floor. “The choices are ‘Just One Day,’ Hold me Tight,’ or ‘Save Me.’”

“So, how many votes for ‘Just One day’?” Seokjin asks.

No one speaks up, and I pout. It must be too old of a song for them to want me to sing it.

“I’ll vote for it,” I raise my hand for a few seconds. “So it doesn’t feel bad.”

“Votes for ‘Hold me Tight’?” Seokjin asks.

“Me,” Taehyung, Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok answer.

“Then, ‘Save Me’?”

“Me,” Yoongi, Jungkook, Seokjin, and Taehyung reply.

“Tae,” I chuckle. “Babe, you get one vote.”

“But, I want to hear you sing both,” Taehyung slightly pouts, widening his eyes to look adorable.

“Do a mash up,” Jimin suggests.

“Hm,” I tape my lips with my index finger. “I will do my best.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great, adorable girl,” Jungkook claps a few times.

“Go jagiya!” Taehyung falls onto his side, giggles passing through his lips.

I smile, taking a deep breath and sitting up a bit straighter. “Look, I’m fair with everyone else but you,” I slow down Jungkook’s part. “Now I can’t live a day without you. Please,” I hold the word for a tad longer than usual. “Listen to my heartbeat,” I switch songs. “It calls you whenever it wants to. Because within this pitch black darkness, you are shining so brightly. Hold me tight, hug me. I need your love. Can you trust me? Can you rust me? Give me your hand. Save me, save me,” I look down at my lap, cheeks burning from my poor mash up.

“I need your love before I fall, fall,” Jungkook and Taehyung harmonize.

I giggle, but keep my head down. “So, what else do you want me to butcher?”

“Butcher?” Hoseok is genuinely confused. “You did a great job mashing the two songs together, and your voice is lovely.”

“Yeah, and you did it all by memory,” Seokjin adds in. “No background music to help.”

“Don’t be sad, princess,” Taehyung shouts out, tackling me to the ground in a hug.

“Gah!” I can’t help the giggles that erupt from me as Taehyung nuzzles his face into my neck. “It tickles!”

A couple of the boys chuckle at the mess I’m in.

“Emily’s right, they are the cutest,” Namjoon has a smile in his voice.

Taehyung lifts his head away from my neck. “I love you and your impromptu mash up of songs.”

I shyly smile, “I love you, and wish you’d get off me.”

“Oh, sorry,” he moves off me as his tan cheeks redden.

“Hey, little one,” Yoongi speaks up.

“Yes, oppa?” I slowly sit up and look at the boy.

“You feel up to rap what we’ve been practicing? Yoongi smirks.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I smirk back. “Let’s do this.”

“S-U-G-A, aka Agust D,” Yoongi and I rap together. “My secret name when I walk in the streets, they whisper my name. From Daegu to Apgujeong, my beat that have been laid. The lives of my music that breathe and live here and there all over the world. I’m a baby shaman who dances on the blade of a straw cutter. That’s me.”

“Damn!” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. “Hyung, she kept up with you.”

“Jagi, why don’t we ever rap Cypher’s together?” Taehyung pouts.

“I think we have found our guest for part four,” Namjoon nods thoughtfully.

“Sorry Tae, you’ve been beat out,” Hoseok chuckles.

“And by your own girlfriend,” Jimin bursts into giggles.

“No, no Cypher for me,” I shake my hand, pinching Taehyung’s cheek to make him smile. “We can rap it together some other time, I promise.”

“Great performance overall,” Jungkook says. “Thank you for showing us your skills.”

I jump up, hopping onto the bed with Jungkook. “You are very welcome, oppa,” I tease, kissing his cheek as he cringes.

“I’m always nice, but I never get a kiss,” Jimin whines.

I roll my eyes, crawling over to press a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Happy, Chim-Chim oppa?”

“Very. Thanks to the oppa,” Jimin grins. Only a light blush seems to be on his cheeks.

“Okay, enough of this,” Taehyung speaks up.

In the next moment, I am lifted off the bed and tossed over my boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Taehyung,” I gasp.

“My princess and I are heading to bed, and we will see you tomorrow,” Taehyung turns, heading to our room’s door.

“Tae,” I wiggle around.

“Night you two,” Seokjin grins.

“Someone is jealous,” Yoongi shakes his head.

“Go easy on her Tae,” Jimin calls out as Taehyung opens the door. “Remember, we are over here.”

The door closes, and the other boys are gone from my sight. A chill runs through my spine with only a lamp on in the room for light.

“That was not nice, baby,” Taehyung pinches my butt, tossing me onto the bed seconds after. “Kissing my friends.”

“On the cheek,” I stumble backwards, hitting the backboard in a second.

“And, you teases me as you danced,” he runs his tongue over his lips. “Bad, jagi.” He pulls his shirt off, revealing his tan chest.

“Tae, they’re my friends, but I love you the most,” I nervously mess with the hem of my shirt.

Taehyung’s face softens the instant he sees my trembles. “Amber, are you shaking? Am I scaring you?”

“Are you mad?” I choke out.

“No, no, of course not,” he crawls up to me. “I just wanted to make sure I was your number one.”

“Of course you’re my number one,” I run my hand over his tummy, snuggling into his side.

“I just get scared you know? And want to make sure that’s all platonic. So, I get possessive.”

“I know, but you don’t need to get that way because of them.”

Taehyung puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I’ll be better jagi. I promise.”

“I believe you, Tae. Let’s sleep it off. We’ve had a long day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed reading! Eve, Laurel, and Abigail live in their own stories that I created that take place in this same universe. I’m not sure if they will ever get written, but they precious to me.

#BTS #BTS fan fiction #BTS x OC #BTS imagine #Jungkook x OC #Jungkook imagine #Taehyung x OC #Taehyung imagine #Jimin x OC #Jimin imagine #Namjoon x OC #Namjoon imagine #Hoseok x OC #Hoseok imagine #Yoongi x OC #Yoongi imagine #Seokjin x OC #Seokjin imagine #My OCs

4 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 4 years

Photo

How I Letterboxd #1: Lise

In this first instalment of a new feature, long-time member Lise, of Canada, answers our questions about how she uses Letterboxd, and why you should join her March Around the World challenge.

Hi Lise! How long have you been on Letterboxd? Lise: TV was still in black and white.

What do you mainly use Letterboxd for? Just a diary? Long reviews or shorter takes? Hilarious lists, or very f—king serious director rankings don’t @ me? I use the whole shebang: diary, reviews, ratings, watchlist, comments and lists, lots of lists. But mostly I use Letterboxd to keep track of when Jonathan is out to lunch (shameless plug for my He Says She Says list).

Do you rate films? Absolutely. I rely on ratings to add stuff to my watchlist, and I rate to let others know if I liked the film. I don’t read reviews for films I haven’t seen, so without user ratings I’d be snookered.

Tell us about your March Around The World challenge, in which Letterboxd members sign up to watch and review 30 films from 30 different countries during the month of March. How did it come about, and what’s involved? I took over the challenge from Berken, who created it and hosted it for the first year. I thought it was a brilliant way to explore the world on the cheap. The review component is important because it expands Letterboxd’s database, especially for under-seen films. It’s been a great success. Many participants like to create lists, and if they can’t watch them all in March they go at it for the rest of the year, which is great. The most important rule about the challenge is to forget the rules and watch international films during the month.

Still from Djibril Diop Mambéty’s ‘Touki Bouki’ (1973).

What are some of the interesting statistics you’ve noticed from your Marches Around the World? I consolidated all of the spreadsheets I’ve created for each challenge, and there were some surprises. The most viewed film is Touki-Bouki from Senegal (average rating of 3.7). Less surprising is that our most-viewed director is Ingmar Bergman (although I was happy to see Aki Kaurismäki from Finland in second place). The most-viewed countries are France, Japan and South Korea. Another surprise, the best decade is the 1920s (with the 1950s in a close second).

How has March Around the World enhanced your life? I’m not the sentimental type but when we get a new participant in the challenge I get the warm and fuzzies. If the genie were out of the bottle I would request that all overcome the ‘one-inch barrier’ (subtitles). Watching films ‘from away’, as our East Coasters would say, is one of the simplest ways to combat fears and/or prejudices about other peoples/nations/ways of life that we often don’t realize we have. Every time we identify or root for someone who is ‘other’ it chips away at the walls, and as Maya Angelou has said so eloquently, we discover that “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike”.

What are the responsibilities involved in hosting a Letterboxd challenge? It doesn’t have to be complicated. A challenge can be as simple as “watch ten films from your watchlist this month”. It’s all about tags. Define a tag, have people add it to their films and their lists, and then you can easily search for and filter those tags. Easy peasy. Mine is a bit more challenging because it has so many requirements, but thanks to some fantastic Letterboxders who volunteer to help with my spreadsheet (you know who you are), it all gets done in a timely manner.

How do you find the time to watch all those films in a single month?! Jonathan and I have never completed the challenge! Our best year was around 26. That year we got up earlier in the morning and watched the films with coffee, before going to work. That was the best. Nice and fresh and open to anything. Bonus is that we got to think about the film all day and the review-writing in the evening was easier. If it were up to me that’s the way I would watch films all the time.

What other challenges have you taken part in, and how have they enhanced your experience of watching films? Back in the day everyone was making a list tagged with List of Shame that you filled with all those “You seriously haven’t seen that yet?!” films. I’m still chipping away at it, but of course for every film you watch there are ten more you have to see. To help with the List of Shame I participated in Mr Dulac’s 5×5 series, where you selected five films from five directors and watched them at your leisure. It was a great way to complete filmographies. I still go to that list when selecting a film to watch.

Wong Kar-Wai’s ‘In The Mood for Love’ (2000).

What are your four favorites on your Letterboxd profile, and why? In the Mood for Love, because forbidden love is the saddest thing ever, and I could watch Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung go up and down those noodle-shop stairs all day long. The Thin Red Line, because it provides a great sense of place and it’s about the soldiers, not the war. Whispering Star because it is so quiet and touching.

I keep my fourth slot open for a rotating new favorite film that I want everyone to see. I could change these for a different set, but, oh, who am I kidding. I always feel terrible at the thought of ‘demoting’ a film.

What is your favorite or most useful feature? The watchlist, filtered by service. It is my dream-come-true feature. I sort by genre, hide short films, select ‘Stream only’ and ta-da! A list of films I’ve been meaning to see that are available to stream. (Now if only I could do the same for films that I own!) [Editor’s note: filtering by your own personal set of streaming services is a Pro feature.]

What’s a movie you’ve done a 180 on because of other Letterboxd members’ opinions? Great question. Memories of Murder is one of them for sure. I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was when I first saw it, but so many of my friends gave it five stars that I watched it again and understood. And just this week, Moaning_Slug posted an interesting comment on my review of Buñuel’s Viridiana that actually makes me want to take another look.

What’s a movie you’ve really had to dig in on your feelings about, despite what everyone else on Letterboxd thinks? I am not easily bothered by or influenced by others when it comes to the films I love or despise. I seriously disliked Her and Boyhood and pretty much anything by Wes Anderson and all the high ratings have zero effect on me. The technical prowess of a film would never be something that could change my mind (here’s looking at you John Wick: Chapter 2 and 3). What would make me take a second look is if someone were able to point out that I missed something about what the film was saying. I’ve yet to review Jojo Rabbit because while I think poking fun at someone who aspires to dictatorship might actually prevent it from happening, I don’t know what to make of it when it’s making light of a historical or current [aspiring dictator]. Reading reviews about this could definitely influence my take on the film.

Colin Firth in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ (1995).

What’s your go-to comfort movie? The one with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, the one with Chris Pratt and the talking ‘rat’, and the one with Tony Leung as badge No. 663 starring the Mamas and the Papas.

If and when you go to the cinema, where do you prefer to sit? Behind the shortest person in the room, near the back (I hate looking up—it’s a neck thing).

You’re Canadian. What’s the best Canadian film of all time? South of Wawa, about a donut-shop waitress who receives tickets to a Dan Hill concert in Toronto for her 35th birthday. Okay, so it’s not the “greatest film of all time” but it is my favorite, and it’s got the best last line ever!

These are the Canadian films I’ve seen in order of preference, this is a substantial list of Quebec films and [Letterboxd member] puffin has an extensive Canadian films list (stops at 2018). And I must mention these NFB short classics: The Cat Came Back, The Sweater and one of the most beautifully animated shorts, The Man Who Planted Trees.

When Parasite won Best Picture, what was the reaction in your household? We tested the bounce on our floor boards at Best Director. We tested the bounce on the ceiling boards at Best Picture.

Please recommend three other Letterboxd members we should follow. I can’t count, so here goes. I think everyone should follow Punq for the sheer number of films he watches and reviews, but mostly because I don’t think there is a film made before the 60s that he hasn’t seen. Graham Williamson is a good bet as well. His tastes are eclectic and his reviews are always packed with good observations and information. And I also have to recommend fellow Canuck puffin. I don’t know how he manages to watch so many films and review them. I always enjoy reading Melissa Tamminga, who asks questions and is very thoughtful in her reviews, and I have a soft spot for Peter H, who again personalizes his reviews. Nepotism be damned, Jonathan White always writes honest, interesting and personal reviews.

You also round up Letterboxd members who attend TIFF each year—what’s been a good thing about meeting Letterboxd people in real life? It’s great! Without naming names, I discovered that I could drink a 6'2" Norwegian under the table; a particular New Yorker is so stingy with his ratings that when he gives anything beyond three and a half stars you just have to watch the film; and a New Zealander personally knows anyone who is anyone in the industry over there and can give you all the dirt! Whenever we consider not doing TIFF we are always reminded that it would involve missing our Wednesday meet-up (as well as most other nights where we undoubtedly meet up for beer and film-related arguments), and we easily change our minds.

P.S. In the spirit of connecting Letterboxders… before the TIFF list I thought it would be good idea to create a ‘Letterboxd in [insert City]’ list, Toronto being the first one. It took off, and many users from different parts of the world created lists for their cities; the tag is letterboxdcity.

The March Around the World challenge starts 1 March 2020. Tag your list with ‘30 countries 2020’ and it’ll be added here.

#letterboxd #how i letterboxd #letterboxd tips #letterboxd member #cinephile #film lover #canadian cinema #how to use letterboxd #how to get started on letterboxd #film diary #film watchlist #film reviewer #film reviews #female film reviewer #female film critic

6 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

Text

do you have a lot of barbecues during the summer? My dad used to all the time when I was a kid, but he’s not into it anymore for some reason. My fam just uses this little kitchen Cuisinart Griddler and a cast iron skillet for stuff like burgers and steaks. Oh, and my dad has a hot dog broiler/roller thing lol. do you plan on going to the movies soon? to see what? My mom and I want to see It Chapter 2 again. do you tie your shoes or just tuck in the laces? I tie them. What is one present you got for your last birthday? A Nintendo Switch with a couple games and a case, some Adidas clothes/shoes/socks/fanny pack/mini backpack, and a weekend getaway. What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I really don’t remember.

Do you remember losing your first tooth? Yeah. I was eating an apple, ha. In the summer would u rather have the windows down or the AC on in the car? AC for sure. Having the windows down does nothing for me cause the air blowing in is just hot air. are you itchy anywhere right now? No. Have you ever thrown anything at a moving car? Uh, no. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I go through spurts where I’m obsessed with The Sims. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? Uhh. do you believe in “the one”? I actually thought I found a potential “one” in Ty. Or at least something serious and long-term. Silly me. Do you like maple cookies? I’ve never had one, but I’ve seen them and they look/sound delicious. I love maple donuts, so I imagine I’d love a maple cookie. Have you ever volunteered anywhere? where? Yeah, various places. are you afraid to pop a balloon? I do get a little nervous in anticipation of the POP! Name one person you’d like to see this month. I’ll be seeing one of my aunts that I’m close to soon. How high do you put the volume while using headphones? When listening to ASMR I turn it up all the way, but something else maybe half way or so. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. What would be the worst possible way to be woken up? I don’t enjoy being woken up ever so if someone does they better have a good reason and some coffee, ha. which was better: lion king 1 or lion king 2? Lion King 1. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? No. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. have you ever had a pet rock? No. Do you believe in marriage? I just can’t see myself ever getting married. What word do you say way too much? I know what phrase I say too much, “I don’t know.” What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? Like a Quick Mar/gas station/liquor store type store? I just get a drink, like a Starbucks Doubleshot. I used to get chips all the time, too. are you currently cold? No. It actually feels nice right now, which is shocking. It looks overcast out right now and it’s only 72 F, which is a big drop in temp for us Californians who have been experiencing upper 90s and triple digit temps. do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? Yes. what is a creative way to paint your nails? I wouldn’t know, I suck at painting them just the basic way. I tried dabbling in nail art stuff a few years ago, but I sucked. does your computer have built in speakers or do you have some plugged in? They’re built in. bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I liked playing with chalk as a kid. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. what colour is your alarm clock? I use my phone, which is coral. what brand is your TV? Insignia. are you proud of your body? Nooope. Watermelon or Cherries? Watermelon. What is your all time favourite song? I have too many, I couldn’t pick just one. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? On TV shows and movies. Eric Northman, playing by Alexander Skarsgard, for example. That character first introduced me to Alex. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? I don’t think there’s been one in particular. how much effort do you put into how you look? Not much at all. :/ Favourite brand of cookies? Oreos and Keeblers. what would you do if you found out your mother had killed someone? Wowwwww. That would be.....wow. I don’t even know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? Lucille Ball. Do you pay for your own things? Some things, not everything. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? Yes. Do you think the world is getting worse every year? I think we’re just more aware. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? Yes, a few. Have you ever gone a day without eating? Yeah. I’ve gone days. How do YOU believe the world & universe started? I believe in God and that He created the world and everything in it. What was the topic of the last essay you wrote? I don’t remember. That was almost 5 years ago. how old were you when you discovered what sex was? I remember making my Barbies do what I thought sex was haha. Do you wish you had smaller feet? No, they’re already pretty small. Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? EW NO. I hate when people do that, it’s SO disgusting. Throw it away it’s really not that hard. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? I don’t use a cart. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? They don’t know I’ve smoked weed a few times. Doesn’t sound like a big deal to most, but I don’t know I just haven’t told them. Who is the best cook in your house? My parents and brother are all good cooks. They each have their specialties. When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yeah. Do you have a ‘prized possession’? My laptop. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I’ve felt that way in some friendships. How many dryer sheets do you put in a load of laundry? I don’t do the laundry. Recommend a good book to me. I don’t know what you like. What would you consider unforgivable? Someone murdering someone I love. When you hear someone talking about lice, does your head start itching? Haha yeah. What would be a clever name for a giraffe? Lol I named my giraffe stuffed animals with G names. Like my 4ft giraffe I have is named Gigi, like GG for “giant giraffe.” lol. She’s giant in comparison to the other stuffed animals. Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? No. What’s something you like to do while you’re drunk? I don’t drink anymore. Do you think you deserve more than what you have? I don’t think I deserve anything. Would you rather give your food to a homeless shelter or money to charity? Why not both. Kiss on the neck or kiss on the cheek? Depends who the kiss is coming from. True or False: you this read wrong True. Don’t you hate when you hit your tooth on your cup trying to get a drink? Yes, or a utensil. I do that forks a lot for some reason. Which store would you choose to max out a credit card? I don’t want to max out any credit cards. I gotta pay it back, you know. Who has the loudest mouth in your house? My dog? lol. Can you understand shakespear english? Kinda, but I didn’t really enjoy Shakespeare, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into it. Do you usually buy or make your Halloween costumes? I’ve done both. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Not anymore, really. I like getting takeout to just eat at home. What was your least favorite year of your life so far? These past few years. What is the most ridiculous law you ever heard about? Hmm. I’ve read articles in the past about weird laws each state has, but I can’t think of an example right now. Is your name common? Yeah. If you could have any pet in the world, illegal or not, what would you get? I love having a dog. Do you like fried bologna? I’ve never had it fried, but I love bologna sandwiches. How do you act around people you dislike? I’d act civil, but I would probably be short and just keep my distance, not interacting unless I needed to. Do you like decorating rooms or would you rather have someone else do it? Someone else. I’m not creative enough. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I’d love to go. have you spent money on a game online? Yeah. I’ve bought a few game apps and Sims games. Are you good at making small talk? Nopeee. Has someone ever taken something from you that you could never replace? Yes. Are you a fan of tattoos? I mean, sure. Are you bikini ready? I don’t wear bikinis. What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Menstrual cycles were a bitch, but I don’t get them anymore.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

1 note · View note

natysadventureblog · 5 years

Text

My one day in Sept-Îles

04-Aug-2017

I was very tired, but it was my only day in town, so I got up at 8h. I saw it on google maps that there was a Walmart not too far from here, so I went to check it out (cause I know Walmart in the US and in Brazil, and the products/brands are very different, so I had to know what the one in Canada had to offer), especially because I'm getting a ride to the research station, tomorrow, and I need to kind of know what I'm gonna get, otherwise it will take me too long.

According to my phone, it was 14°C, and partially cloudy, so that's what I dressed for... well, it was at least 20°C and sunny!!

Walking around was nice... I felt like I was in a movie... and there are so many beautiful plants everywhere!

As for the Walmart, I was happy with it until I realized there wasn't much food to choose from... it was mostly canned/boxed stuff... but I did get a little something for my nephew (my brother's dog) and breakfast (donuts). It's right by the water though, so there's a nice view, with lots of birds!

youtube

BTW, I didn't bring my camera with me because I needed to buy a new one (which is a lot cheaper here), so until I get to the station, I only have that 10-year-old one, that I used in Namibia.

I took my time there and got a bit lost on the way back to the hostel, so I got there at 10h50, to find a note on my bed from my roommate, saying that he had left with a friend at 10h30, for Les Croisières du Capitaine, if I wanted to try and join them. Well, first I had to figure out where that was, then I quickly changed and left, in the hopes that they would still be there (we didn't know what time the boat would leave for the island).

I got there a little after 11h, but they weren't there... but they didn't get on the boat either, because it had left at 10h, and the next one was only at 14h. So I sat by the water and had my donuts... made friends with a seagull that kept wanting to get close to me... then I walked around the area and decided to go back to the hostel to put on some sunscreen and get more water.

youtube

I took a different route, and it's just so nice!! Sept-Îles reminds me a little of Garopaba, that town in Brazil where I went last year, to see the Southern Right Whales, and fell in love with it!

I got back at 13h30 and there was my roommate! We paid for the trip ($25, both ways) and left... it was actually just the 2 of us.

In spite of being a warm day, it got pretty chilly on the boat! But the island is quite close, so it was a short trip.

As soon as we got to Île Grande Basque we could see that it's quite pretty! And the water on the beach is super clear!! Of course, it's also super cold!! Oh, btw, the tap water here is either hot or freezing cold; there's no in between!!

We talked to the guides (well, he did most of the talking, because they didn't speak much English, and I don't speak much French) and they told us where we should go, after explaining the rules, and off we went!

The vegetation is so different from all the other places I normally go to... it's mainly pine trees!! And it's beautiful!!

We went up to the look out, and the view was stunning!! $25 is a lot for me (around 70 in my currency), but it was worth it! Canada is such a beautiful country!!

We only had 2 hours until the boat left for the continent, and it turn out that it was a preeeetty long trail that they had suggested, so by the end we had to really hurry not to miss the boat!! My legs were dying!! But it was good!! We still had to wait for the guides, who weren't back yet.

I was sitting on the opposite side, but they saw a minke whale, when we were already pretty close to the continent!! I turned around and was pretty sure I saw one or two dorsal fins, but that was it... still, pretty cool!!!

I wanted to walk in that direction, to see if I could find them, but I was dead tired, and my legs were hurting, especially the one that was already hurt from the accident, so I just went back to the hostel with him.

Once we were there, I sat on my bed for a little while, and started to not feel too good... I remembered I hadn't had anything savory to eat all day, so I ate the mini pretzels from the plane, before getting in the shower, because I knew my blood pressure would drop with the hot water and I would pass out if I didn't... I felt better and went to shower... well, that wasn't enough and I almost passed out anyways! I really thought I wouldn't be able to walk out of that bathroom, but after a long time (probably half an hour or so), I managed to do it... little by little... then I just lied on my bed and dried my hair like that... reminded me of my first time in Africa, when I got really sick and had to dry my hair lying down because I was too weak... I just lied there until I was back to normal, then went up to the kitchen to eat a couple more donuts. =P

I didn't stay up for very long, afterwards. Even though I'm feeling fine, I'm still dead tired, and tomorrow should be a long day!

#biologist #internship #traveling #travel blog #Canada

3 notes · View notes

nicoleknows-nothing · 5 years

Text

Pucks Deep (Mark Scheifele Fan Fiction - CHAPTER TWO)

CONFUSED? START HERE, READER >> INTRO & CHAPTER ONE

Mark Scheifele, #55 of the Winnipeg Jets. Born in Kitchener, Ontario, drafted back in 2011 and signed an eight-year deal with the Jets in 2016. He plays centre, serves as an alternate captain, and shoots with his right hand. He also played for team Canada in the 2012 World Juniors and team North America in the 2016 World Cup of Hockey. Last season, he played sixty games in the regular season, scored twenty-three goals and assisted in thirty-seven for a total of sixty points. His six-foot-three, 207-pound frame is the perfect bulk for winning battles--

“When are you going to stop Googling him?” Ruby walked into the kitchen, heading straight to the Keurig machine to make a cup of coffee.

I turned away from my laptop, adjusting my glasses from falling off of my face.

“Until I know his whole life story.” I protested, taking a sip of my cold earl grey tea.

I had been up since six in the morning, as well as sitting at my laptop for most of the day before, researching everything I could about Mark Scheifele. I've been on Wikipedia, the NHL website, Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit, YouTube; I found so much information already, I could start writing an autobiography for him.

“I have an idea.” Ruby sat down beside me at the kitchen table, the smell of her hot hazelnut coffee filled my nose, giving me a boost of energy. “Why don't you text him instead of being an internet stalker?”

“I'm not ready yet.” I bluntly answered, tapping away at my keyboard.

“It's been 48 hours.”

“I just--” I sighed. “What if he doesn't answer back? Or he pretends that he doesn't know who I am? Or he does text back and says that giving me his number was a mistake?”

“He’s not going to do that, Neens! If he didn’t want to give you his number, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place,” Ruby tried to assure me. I ignored it and started to look in my internet history to find a page I found earlier about Mark’s past relationships. I showed it to Ruby. “His ex-girlfriend is a freestyle skier. She won a gold medal in Sochi! How do I compete with that?!”

Ruby slammed my laptop shut.

“Okay, listen to me.” She grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look her straight in the eye. “First of all, You’re doing that thing when you over analyze situations in your head and you psych yourself out. You need to stop, it's not healthy.”

“Second of all, forget all of the other girls. He wants to talk to you, he wants to get to know YOU. Gold Medal Girl who? She's got nothing on you! You are talented in so many other ways that can easily impress him! You just need to get out of your own head and you need to text him!”

Ruby is the perfect hype-woman, and she was right. Before I knew who Mark really was, he was just the really cute guy at the bar. He was nice and out of all of the women in the room, he gave me a chance. Now, I just know a little bit more about him...maybe I know a bit too much but I shouldn't let it cloud my judgement. However, there was one thing I was having trouble with.

“What do I even say?” I asked, twirling my cell phone around in my hand.

“You could start with 'Hey, it's Nina?’” Ruby suggested.

I stopped playing around with my phone and laid it on the kitchen table, concentrating my gaze on it. I stared at it for so long that I was hoping I could send the text with my mind because my fingers were an anxious, shaking mess.

“It's not too early is it?” I looked around the kitchen for the time, even though I know there isn't a clock in the kitchen.

“It's 9:30 AM, he's probably up by now.” She grabbed my phone and put it back in my hands. “Do it.”

I unlocked it and opened the draft I had been sitting on for the last two days. All you have to do is say hi, and then the rest will follow…

Hey, it's Nina :) ...and send!

“There. Done.” I put my phone back down on the table and took another sip of my tea. I felt a mild sense of relief but was still apprehensive of the text I would get back.

Within moments, my phone was ringing. I checked the caller ID and choked on my tea.

“It's Mark!” I coughed through the liquid stuck in my throat, which was followed by instant panic. “What do I do? I'm not ready for this! TALKING IS HARD! WHAT DO I DO!?”

“ANSWER THE PHONE!” Ruby picked up my phone, swiped the green icon, and shoved it in my face.

“H-h-hello?” I stammered.

“Hey Nina, it's Mark!” He could hear me coughing up a lung in the background. “Are you okay? Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all!” I finally cleared my throat and got up from my chair to pace around the kitchen. “I'm surprised you called me, and so quick.”

“I’m driving at the moment and didn’t want to make you think I was ignoring you.” He explained. On the phone, his voice sounds sweet but gravelly at the same time. “To be honest I was excited you messaged me, it's already made my day.”

I went blank, my brain didn’t want to construct sentences. What was the English language? My response consisted of saying ‘uhh,’ ‘cool,’ and ‘yeah’ in between girlish giggles for what felt like a century. Then finally I managed to spit some words out.

“Well, it's a pretty cool number, I couldn't wait to call it...” Ruby looked at me perplexed, even my mouth was questioning what kind of word vomit was that.

“Thanks! I've never gotten a compliment about my phone number before.” Mark laughed on the other end. “So, what are you up to today?”

“Nothing too exciting, just chilling out with the roommates.” More like isolating myself in my bedroom, eating leftover Vietnamese takeout, and playing ranked matches on Rocket League. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m on my way to the Iceplex for practice. It's open to the public today if you and your roommates are interested in coming.”

“Uhhh…” I looked over at Ruby who was hopping in place with a big smile on her face and giving two thumbs up. “Yeah, sounds like fun. We'll be there.”

“Great! I can't wait!”

We said our goodbyes and as soon as I got off the phone Ruby and I were bouncing around the kitchen,

“See? That wasn't so bad!” She reassured. “He even said he was excited to hear from you!”

“I said weird things but it’s okay because he still wants to see me!” I cheered. Heather came into the kitchen and stared at the two of us screaming like teenagers who were about to see One Direction on their reunion tour.

“What are you guys so excited about?” Heather croaked while making herself a cup of tea. I stopped jumping around to notice the redness around her nose, pale skin, and bags under her eyes.

“We just got invited to go watch gorgeous guys play hockey!” Ruby squealed, ignoring the state of our friend.

“Ugh, no thanks.” Heather sniffled. “Cold rink. Cold weather. I’m staying in bed, drinking an entire bottle of Nyquil and binge watching Game of Thrones.”

“I’ll help you back to bed.” I offered, walking with Heather back to her room and tucking her into bed. “Feel better, okay? And if you need anything, text me.”

By the time I put the first episode on for her, she was passed out. I walked back into the kitchen to see Ruby getting off of the phone.

“What are you doing? Why are you not dressed yet?” She asked, pushing me into my bedroom and digging into my dresser. “You need to get all dolled up for your sexy hockey man!”

“I could ask you the same thing. Who were you on the phone with?” I overturned her question. Ruby was holding up shirts to my chest and throwing clothing all over the place.

“Our third…” She quickly changed the subject, looking at my burgundy crew neck sweatshirt. “Oooh, this is cute! Wear this!”

Who is ‘our third?’

---

“I'm so happy you guys invited me!” Simon locked his lifted Dodge Ram 1500 with his fob key. “Do you think Big Buff will sign my Jets hat?”

The ride to the Bell MTS Iceplex was an event all in itself. I was scared for those driving around us because Simon almost got us into THREE accidents, including narrowly missing a family crossing the street in the Unicity area. I never sunk so low in a seat as Simon got berated by the father for driving irresponsibly. Probably didn't help that he was blasting heavy metal the entire way down Portage Avenue, as well as looking at his phone to see if a girl he gave his number to at Cowboy's answered him back. He also decided that it would be a fun idea to quickly do donuts in the empty parking lot by Assiniboine Downs, adding nausea to my already crippling anxiety. As soon as he had his truck parked at the Iceplex, I beelined it for the door, distancing myself as far as I could from Simon and Ruby.

I instantly regretted my decision to split from Simon and Ruby. The Iceplex was crowded, a sea of dark blue and white jerseys covered the first floor of the building and continued up the staircase to the second floor. It was worse right by the entrance; groups of eager kids pushing by eager adults to make their way into the Canadian Tire arena where the practice was being held. I could feel myself getting antsy waiting for those two slowpokes to get in here. Finally, Ruby and Simon walked in and I pulled them to the side to avoid the large crowd of fans.

“How are we going to get into the arena?” I asked, my breath short from feeling claustrophobic.

“There are bleachers in the balcony. Usually, people like to be by the rink so they can get stuff signed.” Simon explained, grabbing mine and Ruby’s hands and pulling us forward. “Follow me!”

We bulldozed through the crowd, getting dragged to the second floor to the entrance of the balcony. I watched as Simon pushed his way down to the front row of bleachers and found seats right in the middle, receiving dirty looks from every single person he blew by.

“Any time now, girls!” He waved us over. I started to feel a bit grateful that Simon tagged along. I could never be as adamant or pushy as he is. He could care less.

We sat down as the team was about to start doing drills. I sat there quietly, observing which way the puck was going and trying to figure out why the players were wearing either a red, blue, or white jersey. This was already confusing to me. I asked Simon what the deal was.

“The red jerseys are the defensemen. And the white and blue jersey are the forwards.” He explained.

“But why white AND blue? Why not just two colours?”

“Well, the different lines can be split by colour. Or if they're practicing in their special teams, the power play line is one colour and the penalty killing line is the other.”

I tried to let the information sink in…”I don't get it.”

“Haha it's okay, don't worry about it right now.” Simon shifted my head towards the northern part of the rink. “Just watch your dude go!”

My eyes immediately found Mark on the ice. He was wearing a white jersey and talking to one of the red jersey guys by the boards. A whistle blew and he made his way to the middle of the ice with a few other players. I watched in awe as the whistle blew again and his feet glided across the icy surface with quick precision. The puck was passed to him; the control he had was flawless, manoeuvring around and keeping it away from the other players. He gave the puck away to another white jersey on the other side of the ice and advanced closer to the goal. The puck was sent back to him again; it barely touched the blade of his stick when he took his shot. The puck went in, flying over the goalie’s shoulder and into the top left corner of the net. Applause erupted in the small arena. I clapped as well, blending into the crowd because I wasn’t the type of person to make a big deal about a practice goal...but Ruby was.

“WHOO! LET’S GO #55!” She shouted, her arms straight in the air while jumping from her seat and standing on the bleachers. Oh my god…

“Ruby! Get down!” I grabbed her by the bottom of her black zip-up hoodie and pulled her down.

I looked back at the ice and there was Mark, looking up at us as he skated by. His crystal blue eyes instantly found mine in a crowd of hundreds, the connection creating an electric current inside of me. My face felt flush as I smirked meekly and waved at him from above. He winked, his guard hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

As strange as it sounds, him chewing on a dental appliance was really attractive. I don’t know why or how, but the image somehow flicked a switch in my brain that made the conclusive decision; it was hot, like mucho caliente.

Once practice was over, the team spent an hour interacting with the fans; answering questions, taking pictures, and signing anything a person had on them. I overheard one guy say he had the whole team sign his chest and was heading to Living Canvas right after to get their names tattooed. I decided to sit outside of the arena by myself around the concession area, staying away from the frenzy. Simon was busy getting autographs on his snapback and Ruby wanted to wander around the facility.

Twenty minutes after the crowd died down, I got a text from Mark.

Hey! Are you still here?

I replied. Yup! Sitting at the concession.

Cool! Be out there soon.

I quickly tapped on the camera of my phone and checked my makeup and hair. Everything looked good, that was until Ruby came up behind me and threw a grey knitted toque on my head.

“Ta-da! Your first piece of Jets merch!” She beamed. “All you need is your man’s jersey and you’re set!”

“Thanks, Ruby!” I adjusted the toque on my head and stood up from my chair to strike a pose. “How does it look?”

Before she could say a word, a voice behind me spoke up.

“It looks good on you.”

I turned around and saw Mark, standing tall despite being active on the ice for the last two hours. His fingers ran through his damp, cool brown hair, swooping it to the side before placing his hands in the pockets of his charcoal sweatpants. His hockey bag slung over his right shoulder, the strap pulling at the sleeve of his cobalt blue Nike sweater.

“Hi.” he grinned.

“Hi…” We stood in silence for a moment, admiring each other. Ruby instantly got uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you two alone and go find Simon.” She was about to walk away when Mark was snapped out of his trance.

“Speaking of your friend Simon, he actually got escorted out of the building a while ago.” He told the two of us.

Ruby’s eyebrows went up in confusion, I deeply sighed in disappointment.

“What did he do?” We asked in unison.

“He snuck into the dressing room pretending he was from the Free Press, but today wasn’t a media day so everybody was kind of confused as to why he was there,” Mark explained, laughing about the situation. “He’s okay though, he told me he was gonna wait by his truck.”

“Okay then, I will meet you at the truck.” Ruby decided.

“Actually, if it’s okay with you…” Mark interjected. “I can drive Nina home later. I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat because I am starving.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with that.” I agreed. The combination of anxiety bubbles and butterflies in the pit of my stomach was starting to make me hungry.

“As long as she is home at a decent time, then it is fine with me.” Ruby wagged her finger at the two of us like an overprotective mother. “And no funny business!”

We parted ways with Ruby as we left the Iceplex. I watched her make kissy faces from outside the truck while Simon wrapped his arms around his body and proceeded to make out with himself. Those two...

“I'm parked over here.” Mark pointed towards the west side of the building.

Was this really happening? Am I actually on a 'sort-of’ date with a professional hockey player right now? Did I brush my teeth this morning? How bad is my breath? How red is my face? I don't know if it's from the cold temperature in the rink or from me blushing so much. I think i'm sweating, do I smell okay? Will he noticed if I take a quick whiff of my armpit?

He's looking at me. My god, he's pretty. His strong jawline, the subtle stubble of his goatee, his long eyelashes... Have I been staring for too long? How long have I been silent? I'm over analyzing again, say something for the love of God!

“Wooooords…” I said that out loud… Where's the nearest hole?

“What was that?” He asked, chuckling. I stayed silent, fearing that I would say something stupid again.

We stopped in front of a sleek silver SUV. I have watched way too many David Dobrik videos to immediately recognize the make of the car.

“You have a Tesla Model X!?” My mouth dropped open and eyes wide in wonder. Mark double clicked on the back of his key fob and the trunk opened.

“Pretty neat, huh?” He threw his hockey bag in the trunk and clicked another button. The side doors lifted up over my head and floated back down moments later. “I like opening the falcon doors for fun sometimes.”

“Cool!!” I marvelled. Mark came to the passenger side of the car and open the door for me.

“Your chariot awaits…”

#mark scheifele #mark scheifele fan fic #mark scheifele fan fiction #still have no title #sue me #creative writing #winnipeg jets #winnipeg jets fan fiction #nina mendoza oc #hockey fan fiction #chapter two #my work

13 notes · View notes

stone-man-warrior · 4 years

Text

February 12, 2020: 5:50 pm:

I just returned from running an errand in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, where Socio-Terrific conditions exist to the extent that all of the inhabitants of Josephine County Oregon have all been killed and replaced with terror soldiers who compose a unconventional Christian army from Canada, under Screen Actor Guild leadership who are commanded by the British throne.

I went to:

Walgreen’s.

On the way, I encountered a terror representative from Josephine County Courts, someone from the Buck Baker terror cell, husband of Honorable Judge Lindi Baker who was killed in defense at the AM/PM Luke’s Arco gas station at some point about one year ago, specifics are available on this Tumblr account, search the entries.

That Buck Baker reprsentative was driving a large big rig truck, red, with low-bow trailer, and road grading machine loaded in the reverse direction. That big rig is known to belong at the Burton Mitchel Dietrick SAG heroin distribution terror cell at 601 “MyStreet”. Only a drive-by occurred while I was unlocking my gate to leave. There is almost always a terror soldier there to drive by as I unlock my gate when I leave my home, and serves as a warning, and a threat to let me know that the terror is everywhere that I am, always, day or night, and that they know where I am, at all times.

I also passed by Richard Chartrand terror cell at 376, where this car is only present on the day’s that I go to a pharmacy, or to my doctor. There is no other time that I have seen this car at Chartrand’s. This photo is older, however, that car was there, and I went to a pharmacy.

On the way, I encountered the usual suspects who come from the “Baby Shell” terror cell at Oxyoke & Three Pines Road, a British terror HQ, and those people, today was five cars, make sure that they get a visual of my position once they get the word that I have left my home. They need to make sure that I did not take an alternate route, which could spoil the Hit attempt planned for someplace along the way.

The usual vehicle came around Dead Man’s Curve at the same time I did, however, today was only a small car, and not a gigantic truck in my lane.

Only when I leave to town do I encounter vehicles at Dead Man’s Curve, never, on the return trip back home.4

There was a terror marker/communication at the freeway on on-ramp area, in the vacant dirt field on the Southbound side of I-5 exit 66. Two of them, some white cardboard boxes inside of some brown cardboard boxes, squished. Also,three small size traffic cones, each one standing on top of a dark colored cylinder shape thing. Those cones with cylinder were also present at a residence driveway on Monument Dr. across the street from where one of the county judges has a “Rental Home”. I forget which judge right now.

Those cones are there to tell terror assassins in the field, what kind of clothing I am wearing, and what terror assassin scenario they are running. Those small cones with cylinder, are a way of saying “Americone Dream”, is a flavor of Ice Cream, from Ben & Jerry’s. That, tells terror soldiers that the Lithia Dodge terror cell is in charge and are major players in the attack to kill me. Terror assassins in the field are instructed to take orders from Lithia Dodge with these cones, and other visual, physical markers in the town, distributed around the area, for communication.

More larger traffic cones were placed at the exits of both Rest Stops that are in between the exit 61 and 66, North and South side, each Rest Stop lined with trash can size Orange cones. Tells terror soldiers more about the “Americone Dream” Scenario, than I know about. I do know that those Rest Stop cones are the reason i was able to make the connection, the “Quantum Leap” necessary to recall the tweets that I included below. Had those large cones not been at the Rest Stop exits, I would not have made the connection to the Pope, or to BBC News. The reason, is the repetition, of a variety of cones along the way. The ones on the cylinders, those are there to remind the terror soldiers to think about the container that ice cream comes in. These are very subtle, physiological, subliminal messaging techniques used by Vatican terror. It’s very important that Public Safety people do not discount what I am explaining here.

This is not easy to explain in written words, so, I have to be confidant that someone who does global security work will take this as seriously as the terror army does.

All of the indicators included here and more, further translates to the idea that I will be referred to as “Jerry” in Blu-Tooth and face-to-face verbal communication. The Mark = “Jerry”, is what is going on with some of that comm, and inside information is required to know this.

Along Grants Pass Parkway, and on route to the Walgreen’s, there was a yellow short, school bus, beside me along the way, the bus was a brand new one, and was a Thomas Brand School Bus. That is communication to me, and to others that I am right beside that bus, and that the Bus, belongs to Honorable Judge Thomas Hull, Josephine County Courts.

At the Walgreen’s, the usual occurred, however, the white Dodge truck that speeds away was not present, and the white van that sounds an alarm when I arrive was also not present, until after a short time that I was already there. That white van I am not certain is the one that usually sounds an alarm, but is worth a mention.

Across from the Walgreen’s was a familiar part of today’s “Americone Dream” terror hit, at the donut shop parking lot, the scenario includes that there is some police vehicles, white ones, lights flashing, in the parking lot, with a man there who is being questioned, aggressively, by the impostor police, from a distance away from him, at gunpoint. That man has no shirt on, never has a short on when they do that, and is always in the Donut Store parking lot. That man is driving a vehicle that looks similar to my vehicle, and he is told to lay down. face down, on the black told surface of the parking lot there. I have seen that same man, same scene, same no shirt, same guns, same flashing lights, and even the same other cars that are parked at the parking lot, and more, dozens of times when I go into town that way, over in that area, near the Pacific Power HQ, and also near the Three Rivers Asante Hospital.

That scenario is part of a confusion service that the impostor police do, as part of the “Americone Dream” scenario, as well as other similar scenarios. Things like that donut shop activity are rolled out like small components to a larger system, just like any kind of thing that is made of components. It’s a “Plug-In” part to the “Americone Dream” that the Pope ordered.

At the pharmacy counter, there was a pharmacy technician helping the person in the drive-through. That pharmacy technician identified me to the person in the drive through, and to others who could here him. He spoke loudly. The way that was done, is with some “word magic”, alternative interpretive use of words.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a PREFERRED PHARMACY. You can get a DISCOUNT at your PREFERRED PHARMACY....”

“...PREFERRED PHARMACY...”

He said that about ten times in different sentences, loudly.

Translation:

Preferred = Pre + ferred

Pre = “First, primary, ahead, front”

Ferred = “Fur, hair”

The pharmacy technician told everyone within earshot, that the mark is in the front of the line, inside the pharmacy, with something interesting about hair going on with him.

I was standing at the counter at the pharmacy at that time.

Later, someone associated with a terror activity that is done by famous musicians and movie actors who come to Oregon on ”#SAGClubMed Heroin Junket”. The activity is called “Celebrity Death Match”, where a famous person has hired a fighter to engage in a fight to the death with someone who is not prepared for such fighting. That person checked in withe the Walgreen’s terror representative pharmacist there, and then looked at me real good, had a look, was informed that I was the mark. That person said “Forfeit”, and then the pharmacist announced that, with the words “Four Feet”, to cover what the fighter said, to hide it in some words.

The “Celebrity Death Match Fighter” decided he did not want to engage, and said so, to his people on comm, with that one word. “Forfeit”.

I have played this game many times, the “Forfeit” announcement happens often after the “Death Match” fighters have a look at me.

If you are reading this, and do global security, or other public safety work, and you choose to discount what I have explained here, you are a fool. But that is not all you are, because it’s real, and if you discount this, and I find out, I will suggest that you are part of the terrorism, if I am able to answer some questions about these entries officially. If your boss finds that you discounted this information, you may face charges of treason. and be ridiculed in your community for many tears to come. So, do not discount what I have explained here. There are no police to call on, and this and Twitter, are the only way I have found to get these reports to as many people as possible, to get some help. and to stop the mass murders, and to save lives of many people, and to preserve Freedom for everyone on Earth.

Please send help.

There is more to say, but I need to stop.

End terror reporting 7:35 pm.

==============================================

Also, these are the orders from the Vatican and from BBC News, to run that particular terror assassin play scenario. The terror bastards are Global, led from the Vatican, and supported on Twitter, to run prefabricated terror assassin scenarios, that all of the terror bastards globally, already know, and have practiced many times in successful murders of citizens world-wide.

These conditions and communication are extremely difficult to know. I know, I learned the hard way. That is why this information is very valuable to global security persons. These are real conditions, and will seem silly, or like they don’t make sense to anyone who is not a terror soldier. Extreme value here with this information.

This Tweet is the Pope’s order to use the “Americone Dream” terror scenario that all of the terror soldiers already know, and don’t need any more than that tweet to know what to do.

This Tweet from BBC News, helps to convey that they received and understand the orders from the Pope. The Pope sees this, and knows that the terror activity will take place as ordered. Other communication to terror soldiers in the field atre also contained in this Tweet from BBC News, Britain. to carry out orders to kill me. These are complicated matters, difficult to obtain, more difficult to decipher, and more difficult still, to survive.

7 notes · View notes