Can I be honest here? I wouldn’t ind Fez x Jackie in season 1 and 2, even 3. But Fez changed a lot during season 4 and the rest of the show. He was really sweet at first but then became annoying, sexist and too perverted. There was a point in which it was TOO MUCH.
And in season 8 he was supposed to be this macho all-the-ladies-are-mine kind of guy and he is not someone I want for Jackie at all! Even if Jackie at the end was very different from the rest of her character in the show.
i really like jarco because usually in a lot of other shows or media, the main guy crushes on some popular, bitchy, or unattainable girl for a long period of time, but they either never end up being a couple or the girl turns out to be mean, etc.
but here, jackie is totally cool and awesome, and they simply just ended up being a nice cute couple, and they’re pretty happy!! simple and sweet. it feels pretty refreshing to me
Are all those sims in your recent pose post sim selves? Sorry if this question made no sense and sorry if this is a dumb question.
Not a silly question at all!
soo, the male sim in the green shirt is my boyfriends simself, and the girl in the grey shirt is my simself! The girl next to me in the white top is a sim based on one of my irl friends! The two males together are just two of my random sims! The blonde sim is the sister of a sim @aandidas created for me! (which I use in my story, she’s called Natalia, her sister here is called Lydia) Andd the sim crouching is ofc, the lovely@our-dazed-sims!!
It’s funny that you asked this!! Because I actually wanted to create some of my irl friends as sims to use for this pose preview?? But I ran out of time xD
In four years with the Wellies, Jack had never had a nickname stick.
(It was two years before anyone even tried giving him one, because somehow the boys read ‘crippling anxiety’ as ‘completely boring’ and never bothered. Then a small blond with a penchant for pet names and pies came in with a Mr. Zimmermann and, like all other aspects of his life, everything changed.)
His first season with the Falconers is much the same.
Tater calls him Zimmboni for about two weeks before Thirdy drunkenly announces the name is ‘no good.’ “Jacky-boy doesn’t clean up the ice,” he tells the faces that haven’t asked. “He wrecks it.” They cheer and they drink and the subject is, Jack hopes, dropped.
They try Zimmy next, and Zimms, and then just Zimmer; each lasts a game or two before the awkward shuffling in the locker room as whichever teammate (not friends, not yet, but at least he goes out with them once or twice when asked now) stutters out how it’s not right. It just doesn’t fit. “Sorry man,” Marty pats his shoulder. “You’re just a hard dude to nickname.”
Jack tries to smile but isn’t sure he succeeds. “So I’ve been told,” he manages dryly, but really he just wants to go - not home. His apartment, sure. To bed, yeah. But he hasn’t once called or even thought of his place in Providence as home.
Instead he goes out with the team to celebrate the win, half because his parents and his therapist have been urging him to start setting down a root or two and half because an earlier text said that Bitty was going to a movie with the Frogs and wouldn’t be home until later.
Maybe it’s because that’s already the direction his mind was taking, but he gets to the bar and can’t help thinking about Bitty. Maybe it’s because that’s already the direction his mind was taking - or maybe it’s the song blasting over the speakers that he can’t help but recognize. “Beyoncé,” he says mostly to himself, because it’s a lesson that he’s had drilled into his brain over the years.
Snowy laughs when he overhears. “Of fucking course,” and he slaps Tater’s arm to get his attention. “Of course this Canadian motherfucker doesn’t get a single fucking one of our references, but fucking recognizes Beyoncé in under ten seconds.”
Tater laughs his sweet, infectious laugh and slings an arm across Jack’s shoulders. “Of course he know,” and the sentence trails off into a rather enthusiastic, if off-key, rendition of the chorus. “Everyone know Beyoncé, even Jacky Z.”
The table shakes from the force of Guy pounding his fist onto it; it startles Tater and Jack, and gets the attention of the other players (and the surrounding tables). “Holy mother of hockey,” and Guy turns his too sharp, too serious gaze on Jack. “Jack Zimmermann.” When blank stares and a few confused nods are all the words earn him, the knuckles around his glass go white. “Jack Zimmermann,” he tells them again, voice gruff. “J.Z.”
There’s a stunned, almost reverent silence around the table as six of the seven men accept the words like a sudden lightening bolt of truth, and the seventh wishes desperately that he had never come tonight. “Jay-Z,” they whisper among themselves, and Jack knows without knowing how that this will be the one that sticks.
Later, when he’s laying in bed in the apartment that still isn’t home, Jack rubs the back of his neck and admits over Skype “So they gave me a nickname today.”
Bittle is, predictably, thrilled for him. “Honey, that’s great news! I’m so proud of you for getting out with the team mor-”
“It’s my initials.”
There’s a moment where Jack watches his face fall and knows that Bitty is concerned that maybe the initials is a sign he’s not being welcomed, followed by a moment where his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he says the letters to himself. The resulting pause is broken by a stuttering start-stop of Bitty’s mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and finally a cut-off shriek. “Oh my - I never - all this time and - I can’t believe I - of course - oh my-” He gropes weakly at the screen of his laptop, voice gone progressively squeakier. “Jay-Z.”
For a moment the under-decorated bedroom feels a little bit more comfortable, a little bit more like a place he could be happy, and Jack laughs. “I think I’m a little bit ashamed for you that someone else realized first.”
“Don’t you chirp me over this,” his glare is rendered ineffective by the way his face splits into a beaming smile. “I just found out I’m dating Jay-Z.”
Jack hums a few bars of a familiar tune. “Hey, Ms. Carter.”