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sisterspooky1013 · 5 months

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Gaslight, Chapter 36/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Mulder sleeps in the back of their rented van on the drive to Henryton, exhausted from nearly twenty-four hours of preparation and worry. His mind feels like an oversaturated sponge, and he finds himself in a perpetual state of frustration as memories tease the edges of his subconscious, never fully revealing themselves. It’s all on the tip of his tongue, burbling just under the surface, but woefully inaccessible.

Langly remains in critical condition, his bedside now attended by his younger brother who flew in on a redeye from out of state. Byers dutifully calls for an update every few hours, and the men make it their mission to save Scully in his honor. What they can’t bring themselves to say aloud is that if he dies, it will hurt all the more to have lost them both in one fell swoop. Never seeing Scully again is an idea that Mulder can’t even allow himself to entertain. He just has to find her. He has to.

Frenchie is curled up near his head, intermittently cracking one eye open to verify that he hasn’t left her again. She’s been glued to his side since she arrived, and between her clear separation anxiety and the fact that they have no idea how long they’ll be gone, he decided that they couldn’t leave her at the Gunmen’s house in good conscience. Having her in tow will also allow him and Scully to set out for Canada right away, without returning to Washington, as will the lock box under the driver’s seat containing two sets of passports, ID, birth certificates, a marriage license, and $10,000 cash.

In the back of the van there are also several firearms. To Mulder’s recollection, the last time he fired a gun was during his short stint at Quantico. But when Byers slid a pistol into his palm, he instinctively released the magazine to verify that it was loaded, slammed it back home, and racked the slide without a single conscious thought regarding what he was doing. He hopes that he doesn’t need to use it, but knowing that he would be able to do so effectively instills the confidence he’ll need if he’s going to pull this off.

It was Byers, fresh from the hospital, who suggested that Teena Mulder’s cryptic message regarding the trains that pass through Henryton tunnel should be interpreted to mean he needs to board a train there. Henryton, however, has no train station, only the infamous tunnel. The railway schedule indicates that between three and five trains pass through the tunnel each day, as early as 10:00 am and as late as 6:00 pm. Their plan is to arrive by 10:00 and scope out the area, then board the train if given an opportunity to do so. They have surveillance equipment, radios, a first aid kit, and detailed maps of every square inch of land within five hundred miles of Henryton, none of which have offered any answers or even suggestions as to Scully’s location. As prepared as they are, they are operating off little more than a hunch and an audacious amount of hope.

They arrive in Marriottsville, a small town near Henryton, just past 10:00 am and stop for breakfast at a mom and pop cafe called Ruth’s. It’s a weathered clapboard house that’s been gutted and converted into a restaurant, and they slide into a booth next to an antique fireplace with historical photos displayed on the mantle.

“Good morning, gentlemen, what can I get for you?”

Their server is an older woman with a moon-shaped face and wiry salt and pepper hair, and a name tag on her apron that says “Moira.” She meets Mulder’s eye and smiles, and she’s so genuinely warm and welcoming that he can’t help smiling back despite his sour mood.

“Coffee, please,” he says, and she winks at him.

“Three coffees, coming right up.”

They sit in relative silence, thinking about Langly, or Scully, or the potential outcomes of boarding a train to nowhere and encountering who knows what on the other side. Mulder has tried, unsuccessfully, to force his brain to remember where he and Scully were taken before. Any tiny detail that might give them some context regarding the level of security in the building or how far it is from a source of transportation. He worries over what they’ll do if she’s injured or ill, or if they’ve already wiped her memory clean and she no longer knows who he is. There are a million ways it could go wrong, but never for a single second does he contemplate not trying. He could never live with himself if he doesn’t at least try.

Their coffees arrive and they order pancakes and waffles, bacon and eggs, carbohydrates and protein to fuel the journey ahead. Byers lays the maps out over the table, following the train tracks with his index finger and looking for an out of place building along their course. He’s already done this dozens of times, but he’s just as meticulous now as he was on the first pass. Mulder watches him with heavy eyelids and a worried heart, wondering what Scully is doing at this exact moment.

The bell above the door jangles and the excited squawk of children draws looks from several patrons. Mulder glances at the newcomers as they are shown to a table, and they seem familiar to him. The man, presumably the father, is tall and tawny, and he takes one side of the booth while the two children, a boy and a girl, sit on the side that is facing Mulder and the Gunmen’s table. The girl is older, and her hair is long and ruddy against her porcelain cheeks. The boy looks more like the father, with protruding ears and raucous laugh. Mulder watches them for a long time as they color their menus, wondering if he knew them before but just can’t recall the memory.

“Flapjacks and scrambled eggs,” Moira says as she sets a plate in front of Mulder, and he is distracted enough by trying to force himself to eat that he forgets about the familiar family for a time.

“I think John should stay back,” Frohike announces, shoveling a forkful of waffle into his mouth.

Byers turns and gives him an incredulous look.

“I agree,” Mulder chimes in, and Byers turns his incredulous look to the other side of the table. “For one, we can’t leave Frenchie in the car; it’s too hot. And if we don’t come back…”

The men all stop eating and look at each other. He doesn’t need to say the rest: if they don’t come back, someone will need to look after Frenchie, and be there for Langly. Someone will need to try and send for additional help.

Byers slowly nods and lowers his eyes to his plate. Though he won’t say it, Mulder can tell he’s relieved.

In his periphery, he sees someone small approaching the table. When he looks, he finds the young girl from the familiar family walking towards him, her eyes on the ground. She crouches down beside the booth and picks up a yellow crayon, then stands and looks at Mulder, locking her brilliant blue eyes on his.

“Abby! Get back over here!” the man, her father, calls out, turning in his seat to admonish her.

Mulder gets a better look at his face, and it’s just so familiar. He knows he’s seen it somewhere before. The little girl scurries away, and her father gives Mulder a long look. A warning look.

“How’s everything tasting?” Moira asks, a stack of dirty dishes resting on her hip. They assure her that the food is up to snuff, and she takes in the pile of maps now neatly folded in the middle of the table. “Where ya headed?” she asks, gesturing to the maps with her chin.

The men exchange glances.

“Henryton,” Frohike supplies after an awkwardly long silence. “Any recommendations?”

She pulls a face, indicating that Henryton is not what she was expecting to hear.

“There’s not much to do out there in terms of tourist attractions, I’m afraid, but lots of great walking trails. Lotsa people like to visit the train tunnel; it’s the third oldest in the world that’s still in operation. And haunted to boot.”

“Haunted?” Byers asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well,” she says, shifting the dishes to her other hip, “It’s really the old sanatorium that’s haunted, but the tunnel is right nearby. Legend is that they didn’t used to let the patients bathe for weeks on end, and they’d get to smelling so bad that they’d escape and run down to the river to wash up.”

Byers sets his fork down and pushes his plate away.

“Even now,” she continues, “people claim that they see ghosts crossing over the tracks on the west end of the tunnel. Sometimes trains will even stop right there, halfway through, to let ‘em pass.”

“The train stops in the tunnel?” Mulder asks, too urgently, and she gives him a perplexed look.

“Sometimes,” she says, hiking the dishes up higher. “Not always. That’s why people think it’s the ghosts. If the engineer spots one, he better throw on the brakes or the whole thing could derail.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Frohike says blandly while giving Mulder a significant look.

“Anywho, I better get back to it. You ready for your check?”

They nod, and she leaves them.

“Ghosts on the tracks,” Mulder says, pushing his plate away. “Why else would a train stop in the middle of a tunnel?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Frohike says, shaking his head.

They settle the bill and collect their maps, and as they head toward the door, Mulder passes by the table of the familiar family. The children are dowsing their pancakes in an ungodly amount of syrup while their father stares absently at the table top, his own plate untouched. Just as he reaches the front door, Mulder turns back and approaches them, seeking resolution for the familiar feeling that he just can’t shake.

“Excuse me,” he says, addressing the father. The man looks up sharply, alarmed, and Mulder takes half a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Have we met? You look so familiar to me, but I can’t place you.”

The man flicks his dark, intense eyes over Mulder once, sitting up taller in his seat in a show of dominance.

“I don’t think so,” he says levelly.

The little boy, taking advantage of the fact that his sister is distracted by Mulder’s presence, sticks his finger into the half-melted scoop of butter sitting atop her syrupy pancakes and then stuffs it in his mouth.

“Peter!” she shrieks, “Don’t touch my food!”

“Abby, shhhh,” her father says softly, and she sticks out her lower lip.

Abby and Peter. He remembers from the maps that Ellicott City isn’t far from here. What are the odds?

“Cal,” Mulder says, turning back to the man. “Calvin, is that your name?”

The man stands abruptly, positioning himself between Mulder and his children, and Mulder takes another step back.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man hisses, and Mulder is surprised to find himself quite intimidated. He holds his hands up, palms out, in deference.

“My name is Fox Mulder,” he says. “I know Dana.”

Cal looks at him for a beat, his expression unreadable.

“Mulder?” he repeats, and Mulder nods once. “How do you know Dana?”

He has no idea what this man knows regarding the nature of he and Scully’s relationship. Most likely nothing at all.

“We used to work together,” he offers, and Cal relaxes a little.

Cal seems to become suddenly aware that the whole restaurant is looking at them. He extends his hand, and after a brief moment of consideration Mulder shakes it.

“Calvin Rose,” he says, then cocks his head over his shoulder towards the children. “This is Abby and Peter.”

“Hi,” Mulder says, looking at the children and smiling. Abby shrinks towards her brother shyly.

“Hi, I’m Pete!” the little boy says proudly.

“Did Dana tell you to come here?” Cal asks with narrow eyes. He may have concluded that Mulder isn’t a threat, but he clearly doesn’t trust him.

“No,” Mulder says, and his heart sinks. The children are both watching him intently, and he doesn’t want to scare them. He motions for Cal to come closer, and the man leans his upper body forward, turning his head to the side to offer his ear. Mulder speaks in a low voice, one he hopes the children can’t hear. “We’re trying to find her. She was…taken.”

Cal slowly leans away and stares at him.

“What do you mean?”

Mulder looks at Abby and Peter. Their syrup-sticky faces and their wide, innocent eyes.

“Maybe we should discuss this in private,” he suggests, and Cal follows his gaze back to the very observant children.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

They sit down at the dirty table just vacated by Mulder and the Gunmen, close enough for Cal to keep an eye on the kids but far enough away that they won’t hear them.

“What do you mean taken? Taken where?” Cal asks, his elbows on the table top.

“I don’t know,” Mulder admits. “I’m not sure how much Dana told you about what happened to us before, but I believe she’s been taken back to the place where our memories were initially manipulated.”

“Who took her?” Cal asks urgently, questions tumbling out too quickly for Mulder to answer. “Did you see this happen? Where were you? I don’t even know where she’s been, she just left and then I got this letter yesterday—”

“You got a letter? From who?”

“From Dana,” Cal says, reaching into his pocket.

He sets the letter on the table and Mulder reads it several times. Henryton tunnel at noon. He checks his watch. It’s almost 11:00.

“This isn’t from her,” he says, handing the note back. “I’ve been with her for the last seventy-two hours, and I know she didn’t write this.”

Cal looks at the note like it’s suddenly a foreign object.

“Then who sent it?”

Mulder shrugs.

“The people in charge of all of this, I assume. They may be trying to lure you there, instead of taking you by force.” An image of the black van tearing out of the parking lot at the safehouse flashes through his mind. “That’s what happened to Scully.”

“Scully? Who’s Scully?”

“Sorry, Dana. Scully is…her maiden name. That’s what I’ve always called her.”

Cal looks at the table.

“Right,” he says. “I guess I should know that.”

“Even if this isn’t from her,” Mulder says, pointing to the letter, “it’s helpful. It confirms that I need to get on the train at the tunnel, and at an exact time. But you don’t want to get on that train, Cal. Especially not with the kids.”

Cal’s eyes widen and he looks over to the children, then back to Mulder.

“What are they doing to her?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder says, and his chest tightens. “Best case scenario, they plan to wipe her memory again. Worst case…they’re destroying the evidence of what they’ve done.”

“I’m going with you,” Cal says without hesitation.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mulder objects. “I have no idea what we’ll encounter. It’s going to be dangerous, and there’s a possibility that we won’t make it back.”

Cal leans in, locking his eyes on Mulder’s.

“Mira, cabrón,” he says, his voice suddenly venomous, “I appreciate your concern, but that’s my wife out there.” Cal must see Mulder’s reaction in his face, because he softens a little. “I mean…the kids don’t know,” he says, glancing over at them. “They still have their chips in, they’re still taking their meds. She’s their mom. I have to find her.”

The queasiness he feels seeing how attached Cal clearly is to Scully, that he still thinks of her as his wife, is quickly replaced by fear.

“They still have chips? That means they’re tracking you, Cal.” Mulder looks around the small restaurant. No one seems to be paying them any attention. “If the kids don’t get on the train, they might come for them.”

Cal sits back and swallows, then his eyes dart around erratically while he thinks.

“Who are those guys you’re with?” he asks.

“Friends,” Mulder tells him. “Of both mine and Dana’s. We’ve known them for years. They’ve been helping us.”

“You trust them?” Cal asks, very seriously.

“Absolutely,” Mulder says emphatically. “I’d trust them with my life, and Dana’s.”

“You trust them with my kids?”

Mulder sees how much the question hurts to ask. Sees the fear behind it, the risk. It only reinforces how deeply Cal cares for Scully. For a fleeting moment, Mulder wonders what will happen to the three of them if they make it out of this alive.

“I would, yes. They’ll do everything within their power to protect them, if necessary.”

Cal sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He looks over at his children, who are piling the remains of their breakfast onto one plate and covering it with salt and pepper.

“We better get going,” he says resolutely. “The train will be there soon.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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harrytheehottie · 7 months

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they also think taylor not getting unjust hate is a result of us overcompensating for olivia ? olivia was a headache, the criticism around her wasn’t unjust, there were many things she had said to upset minorities and land herself in hot water…. this notion that olivia was disliked among harries so now were ott with taylor completely forgetting that olivia stirred her own pot and unlike her taylor isn’t doing shit so this isn’t an overcompensation taylor is just nowhere near comparable with reasons to dislike her for i will never not be baffled how difficult it is for these people to grasp nuance and think with more sense

could not agree more lol like yes there will always be the people that take things too far but for the most part, all the 'hate' that woman got was for things she did that had nothing to do with harry lol and people also love to forget how that relationship started from a very inappropriate place to begin with but its been almost a year of it being over so id rather not go down that rabbit hole again but yes, she fed into her own demise.

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general-kenobi357 · 3 years

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Someday Soon-Chapter 7

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: The Pogues try to pawn off the gold they found but run into more trouble then they bargained for.

Word Count: 4.2k

🔅🔆🔅

The next morning John B parked in front of the pawn shop in town as we all piled out of the van. I grabbed the hunk of gold which had been melted down earlier, I handed it off to JJ, who began to criticize Kie’s work.

“Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein.” He said weighing the gold in his hands.

“Like you could've done better.” Kie countered.

“I could have.” He said, turning to look at the group. “I took a welding class.”

“Yeah, that you skipped every day to visit me in English.” I pointed out, reminding him of the previous school semester.

“Whoa, whoa. Hey. Sh! Chill out, okay?” John B broke off the bickering.

“Easy for you to say. You're not the one that has to pawn this piece of shit off.” JJ responded, looking at the gold in his hands. “How did I get this job anyway?”

“'Cause you're the best liar.” Pope answered without skipping a beat as he entered the pawn shop and we all began to follow.

The bell rang above me as the door shut, I followed Kie to go look at a shelf of trinkets while JJ started talking to the women who sat behind the counter.

After a lengthy debate a price was finally agreed upon and we were told we’d have to go to a warehouse to complete the sale. I found it strange that this pawnshop had a warehouse when there were quite a few bare shelves in the store. Why would they need a warehouse to hold stuff when their shop was half empty? I figured that maybe I just didn’t know enough about the in and outs of pawn shops and chose to not voice my concerns while we all exited the shop with a warehouse address in hand.

🔅🔆🔅

We were driving through the Cut on our way to the “warehouse” and something felt off, but then again things had felt off since we had started this treasure hunt, so I decided to push down the feelings of dread that were beginning to bubble up. I sat between JJ and Kie staring out the window which was across the van watching the rows of trees fly by as we continued down the road to the most deserted part of the island.

“So they keep money out here?” Pope asked in disbelief.

“That's what she said.” JJ replied, pausing for a minute a smirk grew on his lips. “That's what she said.”

“Stop.” Pope cut off JJ from laughing at his own comment.

“I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive.” Sarah turned around to look at us from the passenger’s seat.

“'Cause you're rich.” JJ commented.

“You've never heard of it either.” Kie defended Sarah while I smacked JJ’s arm. “There's nothing but weeds back here.”

A moment passed before the car behind us flashed on lights and sirens signaling us to pull over. The stealth cop car pulling us over in the middle of nowhere only added to the doubt I felt. Something was definitely wrong.

“Cops? Out here?” Kie asked as we all looked back while John B pulled over.

“God! Are you kidding me? What did we do?” JJ demanded on edge. “I hate cops.”

“Did you bring the gun?” Kie asked as he began to hide the gold in his bag, I prayed the answer was no I wasn’t sure what would happen if he had.

“No. Okay? Iz told me that I couldn’t bring it with me everywhere I went. I left it back at the place.”

“Thank God.”

“He's walking up.” Pope warned as JJ stuffed his bag under the seat.

I was looking back at the car when I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking near John B’s open window.

“Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?” A masked man demanded loudly, waving the gun in front of John B. “All y'all's hands up in the air now!”

Everything became a blur as he ushered us out of the van before instructing us to lay down in the ditch. I focused on remembering how to breathe as he began to rip apart the van clearly looking for something. It was all a set up, there was no warehouse, only a dead end road where one man could threaten us at gunpoint in order to take the gold we had found. I hadn’t noticed John B sneak away towards the car that had pulled us over but I did hear the muffled protest from the rest of the group. I could hear JJ cursing beside me while I watched the masked man find the gold and head back to his car which John B had just snuck into.

There was a pause before John B called out to us and we all rushed to his side. Incapacitating the man who had robbed us before John B ripped off his face covering so we could find out who he was. I didn’t recognize him but JJ seemed to, rambling about how he supplied his father with coke.

“Come on, let's get outta here.” John B urged as JJ grabbed the dealer’s wallet. None of us wanted to wait around for the real cops to show up.

“We got one last stop.” JJ told us, looking at the id he had found. “Let's go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

The dealer screamed threats at us as we made our way back to the van so that we could get outta there.

🔅🔆🔅

“Welcome to Crackhead Wasteland.” Sarah spoke up as we drove up to a rundown trailer.

The ride here had been silent as we all tried to recover from what had just gone down.

“I don't know about this, man.” Pope spoke up uneasily. “Dude, why are we at Barry's?”

“This'll only take a second.” JJ responded hopping out of the van before making his way to the steps of the trailer.

“Where are you going?” John B asked JJ as he made his way across the porch.

“Yo soy justicia.” JJ responded as if that answered the question before disappearing into the building.

“Did you glean anything from that?” Pope asked as we all shook our heads.

“You know somebody should probably…” Kie started to say before John B got out of the van.

“Yeah, I got it.” He reassured, following JJ’s path into the trailer.

The rest of us stayed quiet as we waited for the pair to return. I felt numb still trying to figure out what was going on and why I hadn’t spoken up when I had the chance. Maybe if I had voiced my concerns we wouldn’t be here, maybe we could’ve gone to the mainland, traded the gold with someone else.

I was pulled out of the thoughts that were beginning to drown me when the rest of the gang got out of the van as JJ and John B approached us. I stayed sitting near the door figuring we would be leaving soon anyway.

“All right, so we're looking at five grand each for reparations for putting us through that bullshit.” JJ spoke to us all digging through a bag full of cash. “Sorry about that, y'all.”

“So that's what we're doing now? We're robbing drug dealers?” Kie asked hopelessly.

“This Barry guy's gonna find out.” Sarah reasoned. “And he's gonna come after us.”

“Yes, he will. This is not the time to start wilin' out.” John B added, it seemed like he was continuing a previous conversation they had most likely had inside.

“How'd you like havin' a gun pulled on you?” JJ asked finally snapping and pinning John B against the van.

“Relax.” John B told him in an attempt to calm JJ down.

“He had it right here on you, bro.”

“What are you gonna do when he comes for us?”

“We punch him in the throat.”

“Yeah, good fuckin' idea, JJ.”

“I'm not putting it back.” JJ finally said letting go of John B. He climbed past me into the van and sat down before looking at everyone. “You guys getting in or what? What”

“We're sick of your shit.” Kie told him.

“Oh, my shit?” JJ challenged getting back out of the van.

“Yeah. Yeah. Your shit. Yes. Your pulling guns on people shit.”

“You acting like a maniac…” Pope added.

“Okay, Pope, I took the fall for you, man!” JJ cried out. “Know how much I owe because of you?”

“I'm gonna pay you back, and I didn't ask you to do that!”

“I just did pay it back. Right here, right now, by myself.” JJ spat holding up the money he had found inside. “You know what? That's exactly what I'm gonna do. Go off by myself.”

“JJ... Hey, wait, man.” John B spoke up trying to stop him. “Iz could you?”

“Yeah I’ll go see what I can do.” I said. I didn’t have to hear the rest of the question to know John B wanted me to go after JJ thinking he might listen to me.

“Should we wait?” Kie asked as I began to follow JJ.

“No, I’ll um meet you guys at The Wreck later.” I stated, figuring it might take awhile to talk to JJ.

🔅🔆🔅

It took me a couple minutes to catch up with JJ who was walking a lot faster than I expected. When I finally caught up to him I put a hand on his shoulder hoping he would turn around and he did, looking the most pissed off I had ever seen him.

“Jesus, what?” He groaned before realizing it was me, his face softened slightly but he couldn’t take back the comment.

“What? JJ, really?” I asked now that I too was pissed off. “I want to know what the hell is going on. Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? I’m paying off the restitution.”

“JJ we have the gold, you don’t have to use that drug money. You don’t have to make more enemies.”

“It’s a little late for that Iz. Why do you even care?”

“Why do I care? Oh I don’t know maybe cause you’re important to me, because I know that you’re better than this.”

“Then clearly you don’t know me.” He told me before turning to continue walking. “Stop acting like my girlfriend, I don’t need someone telling me what to do.”

“Where are you even going?” I asked, trying to keep up with his quick pace while also attempting to let go of the comments he was making.

“Home.” He said after a moment. “I gotta go prove to the old man I did it. By myself, without him.”

After that comment I stopped trying to keep up, I stood still and watched him go. The tears I had been holding onto all morning finally springing free as I watched him fade from view. It felt like I had just lost the one person who kept me together.

🔅🔆🔅

I felt more lost than I ever had as I found myself walking up the stairs of The Wreck and towards the table that my friends were all seated at.

“There's about a zero percent chance that JJ goes home.” Pope said, I assumed it was an answer to a question that I had not heard.

“That’s exactly where he’s going.” I corrected Pope as my friends all turned to look at me.

“Are you alright?” Kie asked standing from the table and holding me an arms length away to inspect my features.

At that question I fell apart all over again and as the tears fell freely down my face the rest of my friends got up and all pulled me into a hug. After a couple minutes they all let go of me as Kie led me to sit down.

“What happened?” Pope asked concern written across his features.

“We fought about the money and then he left and I couldn’t stop him.” I explained between hiccups caused by my previous sobbing. “I’m fine guys or I will be, I’m just worried.”

They all gave me a look of uncertainty as if they didn’t believe what I was telling them but after a couple minutes Pope finally decided to change the topic effectively dropping it.

“Okay.” He started hesitantly. “It's too dangerous to pawn this thing off piecemeal. So our best bet is to go down there and get the rest of it. Bring it all up at once. Put it in... in a safe or a vault or something. I... I don't know. Just until we can find someone who won't rip us off. I can figure it out tonight, get it done, and we can be out there tomorrow morning.”

“All right, let's do it.” John B said ready to start planning.

“What about that thing with my dad?” Sarah asked him.

“What thing?” Kie asked as John B cursed under his breath.

“I have to go fishing with Ward.” He explained to us.

“You can't get 400 mil 'cause you're gonna go kill fish?”

“Look, I have to go.”

“Blow it off.” Pope spoke up. “It's 400 million in gold!”

“Make something up!” Kie added

“Look, I... I have to, okay?” John B shut down their suggestions. “He... he saved me, all right? If it weren't for Ward, I'd be in foster care. I have to go. Plus, it'll be better to do it at night. Right?”

“Fine. Fine, go fishing.” Kie said. “And at least JJ will probably have washed up by then.”

But I wondered if he would. As much as JJ’s words had hurt me I still worried, I had seen what Luke Maybank had done before and I knew he would want to keep the money that JJ had got for himself.

“I um I gotta go to work.” I said finally standing up when I noticed the clock on the wall. “I’ll see y’all later.”

“Yeah we’ll meet you at the Château tonight.” Kie reassured me letting go of my hand that she had been holding since I had arrived.

🔅🔆🔅

I closed the car door with a sigh, the sun was low in the sky. My mom had just dropped me off at home after we were done working and was about to go collect Emmy.

“I’ll be back in a while.” She assured me as I opened the back door to grab my bag from the seat.

“Okay I’ll see you then.” I said with a smile as she drove out of our driveway once again.

I made my way up to the porch and was about to go into my house when I noticed something on the dock at the Château. Confused, I dropped my bag on the steps before heading in that direction to go investigate.

As I got closer I noticed someone in a suit working on laying out a blanket. Then a head of unmistakable golden hair popped up as the old deck creaked under my feet.

“JJ?” I asked, confused by whatever was going on.

“Sweetheart.” He greeted me with a smile, meeting me halfway down the dock before leading me towards the picnic he had set up.

“What is this?” I asked him, my concern growing as he sat down.

“Sit, please. I got it all set up.” He stated, avoiding my question.

After a moment I sat as he offered me champagne.

“What is this?” I asked him again, pushing away the glass he was trying to pass to me.

“It’s um, It’s an apology. For this morning and for midsummers. I know I shouldn’t have run away-”

“It’s fine JJ.” I interrupted him trying to figure out what was really going on.

“No. No it’s not fine Iz. I mean I was a dick and I just didn’t know what to do. I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you and I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” He confessed but I had no idea how to react. This is all that I wanted, he was all I wanted and yet now that he had finally said what I had been waiting for him to say I couldn’t hear it.

“JJ did you spend all your money?” I asked him.

“What? No, not on this dinner.” He answered and I knew he was dancing around the question. “Now will you please just stop worrying and enjoy this meal with me after I told you how I feel about you, Sweetheart.”

At that I decided to stop, to give into his request and push away my worries for an hour. Kie and Pope would be here soon, they would know what to do, how to help.

We had finished eating and JJ had convinced me to dance with him. Which is what we were now doing, dancing slowly to the music that played softly from the radio that JJ had brought out onto the dock.

“Can I kiss you?” JJ asked me suddenly, as I looked into his blue eyes.

I took a moment to consider it before nodding my head. This kiss was different from the last, we both knew it was going to happen and as our lips met it felt like it was meant to happen. All of the questions and worries I had melted away as I deepened the kiss.

But as I pulled away to catch my breath they all came crawling back. The questions of where we stood and what we were burned in the back of my throat, begging to be let out but I swallowed them back down as I looked into JJ’s eyes again and saw the smile playing on his lips.

I smiled back as we continued to dance, hoping to prolong this moment as long as I could before we had to go back to reality.

“Hey, do you have a swim suit on?” He asked as the song playing ended.

“Um no. Not right now.” I answered wondering what else he was planning.

“Well go get one.” JJ instructed as we pulled apart from each other. “I’ll meet you at the Château, okay? I’ve got one more surprise.”

“Yeah, okay.” I replied hesitantly making my way over to my house.

As I walked in Mom and Emmy both turned to look at me from the kitchen.

“Hey Hon what’s going on?” Mom asked.

“Um, not much I think I’m gonna hangout at John B’s for a while more.” I explained as I made my way towards my room.

I closed the door behind me before changing into a bathing suit and then throwing on a pair of shorts as I wasn’t sure where JJ was taking me. I had no idea why I needed a swimsuit but I figured maybe if I listened to JJ it would finally explain what was going on. Before I left my room I turned on my phone. I hadn’t used it in days since I had no way to charge it and I was trying to save the battery for anything important. This constituted being important. I dialed Kie’s number and listened to it ring before finally going to voicemail.

“Hey, where the hell are you guys? I’m with JJ at the Château, something is wrong. I don’t know what to do. Please get here soon.” I talked to her voicemail hoping she would hear it soon.

I tried Pope’s phone but got no response there either. After leaving a similar voicemail I figured I should head back over to where JJ was. I considered for a minute asking my Mom for help but then I thought it best not to. I wasn’t ready to explain everything that had gone down in the past few days and I wasn’t even sure how to.

🔅🔆🔅

I crossed the lawn quickly to find JJ waiting in front of the Château for me. He still wore his dress shirt which I found an odd choice since he had ditched the rest of the suit for a pair of colourful swim trunks. In one hand he held tightly to the bottle of champagne he had opened earlier which was now almost empty.

“Finally.” He said, smiling as I walked over to him. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

“Sorry. I couldn't find a bathing suit.” I lied, not wanting to tell him I had called our friends.

“That’s alright.” He said, his words were slow as he finished the last of the champagne before setting down the bottle. “Okay cover your eyes, I’ve got one more surprise for us.” He instructed before taking my hand.

With my eyes closed I couldn’t tell where we were headed but I knew it wasn’t far as we came to a stop after a short walk.

“Okay keep 'em covered.” JJ spoke hesitantly as he let go of my hand. I could hear the shuffling of fabric then a pause before I heard the sound of splashing water. “Alright you can look.”

As I opened my eyes it took me a moment to readjust to the bright lights that surrounded me. I stood with my mouth open in shock. That’s when my gaze lowered to where JJ sat in a huge hot tub a smile covered his face as if he was proud of all this.

“What the hell?” I muttered, still looking around the yard which was completely different. Had I not been so worried about JJ I could’ve appreciated how beautiful it was.

“I bought a hot tub.” He stated, grabbing a new bottle of champagne, I watched him open it, trying to figure out what to say.

“Yeah.” I muttered agreeing with his comment. “Why?”

“I figured we had earned it. You know the Pogues deserve a little luxury.” He explained. “Now you need to get in here, immediately.”

“Did you spend it all?” I asked, hesitantly moving closer to where the hot tub sat.

“Pretty much all of it, yeah. But, I mean, like, come on, look at this!” He exclaimed, waving his arms around. “Finest in jet-based massage therapy, that's what they told me.”

I wanted to scream at him and ask what the hell was going through his mind but I couldn’t form any response. I stood paralyzed watching him. I could feel tears forming, clouding my vision begging to be let out but I wouldn’t let them, I had cried too much today I didn’t want to again.

“Sweetheart, what?” He asked, noticing that I was barely holding it together. “Can't a man have a little luxury in life?”

“JJ, seriously?” I asked, finally finding my voice. “You could have paid for restitution!”

“Okay, well, you know what? I didn't do that!” He snapped, standing up and pointing a finger at me. As he stood I saw the huge bruises covering his torso. It all made sense and I realized that I shouldn’t have let him walk away. I shouldn’t have let him go home. “I got a hot tub! I got a hot tub for us. For my friends. You know what? No, you know what? Screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family!”

“JJ, what happened?” I asked, the tears finally falling down my cheeks. I didn’t need to ask though, I already knew.

“No, you stop being emotional. It's fine, okay? Sweetheart, I’m fine.” He tried to convince me but his voice cracked with every word he spoke, he started moving closer to where I stood. “Just get in!”

JJ held out his arm for me to take and I did. Kicking off my shoes before I climbed over the side, I stood beside him pulling him into a hug. I held him while I cried, I didn’t know what to say. How to make it better. And as I held him he began to break down as well, sobbing into my shoulder.

“I just couldn't do it.” He started to say between sobs. “I can't take him anymore! I was gonna kill him. I just wanna do the right thing.”

“I know.” I tried to tell him but I couldn’t speak very loudly as I choked on my words. “I know.”

We stood there for what felt like hours, I could hear voices speaking behind us before two people climbed up the steps and joined our hug. I could tell it was Kie and Pope as they muttered to us, trying to sooth JJ as he continued to sob.

After we all finally pulled away, Kie explained that they had arrived slightly after our conversation had begun. They had heard it all, they didn’t need an explanation. The rest of the night we all sat in silence. I never left JJ’s side, I held onto his hand like my life depended on it, as I tried to make sense of it all.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj mabank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

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carlyraejcpsen · 4 years

Text

i’ve been debating a lot in the past few weeks about whether to post something about this, but seeing as there are a lot of people talking about @londonhq at the moment, i wanted to share my experience with them.

NOTE: i have posted screenshots of the conversation in a private post HERE. i will be pasting them in as text in this post instead of as photos because that is more accessible, but you can also view the screenshots so you can see i have not edited the text in any way.

i reached out to the main about three weeks ago because i was concerned about the lack of diversity in their roleplay. i was also concerned that they were repeatedly posting in the tags about how they were looking for more diverse characters and were inclusive of all muses, while doing nothing to actually promote diversity amongst their existing players. at the time, they had 4 poc characters out of a total of 36. three of these characters were white-passing. this, of course, does not erase their identities as people of colour, but it is quite worrying when it is your only form of representation.

as i’m sure many of you who regularly play muses of colour can attest to, it is incredibly intimidating to join a predominantly white group, as far too often characters who are not white can be ignored by other players. therefore, no matter how much the admins say how inclusive and welcoming the group is, you are immediately wary of joining. to that effect, i reached out to the main with the following message, suggesting that they put a rule in place that encourages existing members to use faceclaims of colour if they wish to play multiple characters. again, i have copied this as text to make it more accessible, you can find the screenshots HERE.

waitresslondon: hi, i saw your rp in the tags and i just wanted to shoot you a message because i am really concerned about the lack of diversity. i can see that you have repeatedly posted in the tags stating that you are accepting of all muses and looking for more diversity, but it doesn't appear that you have put any rules in place to actually fix this issue? i.e. people who play multiple characters must make sure that a certain number of them are poc. diversity in an rp starts with the admins: if you don't put something in place, you can't expect people to come to you with their muses of colour, because we can't believe they will be accepted in such a white-dominated rp. especially when the last time someone asked you about diversity, the admin who responded literally listed the poc muses like they were tokens (especially because you could count them on one hand!). i hope this doesn't come off as an attack, i really hope you take what i have said into consideration and put measures in place going forward. i am happy to help you as much as i can if you would like any advice etc. especially because i live in london!

here is the previous ask i referenced in my message, which they had answered a few weeks before i reached out:

[ IMAGE ID: A screenshot taken from londonhq of an anonymous message reading: “How diverse is your roleplay? On average if you do not have an exact number.” The response from londonhq reads: “Are you able to define the word ‘diverse’ and in what context?” ]

[ IMAGE ID: A screenshot taken from londonhq of an anonymous message reading: “Most definitely. What I meant was your number of poc within the rp.” The response from londonhq reads: “I feel pretty confident that we are quite diverse with our face claim especially since we have the following POC’s in the roleplay; Amandla Stenberg, Ana De Armas, Jordan Fisher, Zayn Malik, Zendaya and we are always encouraging and wanting more, a lot if not all of our Most Wanted are actually POC because I would personally would love to see more colour on our dash. I will say that I think we could be MORE diverse but also that we are doing what we can by promoting for more POC faces in order to attract those kinds of players and muses. I hope this answers your question” ]

I personally believe that my concerns were valid and that my message was incredibly reasonably. I purposefully reached out to them in private as I don’t believe in public callout posts without giving someone a chance to rectify their behaviour. The roleplay then got back to me with the following response (again, the original screenshots are here):

londonhq: Hi there. While I appreciate your message and I don’t take it as an attack we here at Londonhq do all that we can to try and get diversity into our group. I myself play an Ana de Armas who is considered POC. Everyone can play who they want because it’s a roleplay and I strongly encourage people to play who they feel comfortable with. In saying that we do have some POC in the group like Emeraude Toubias ( Mexican and Lebanese ), Ana de Armas ( Cuban and Spanish ) as I mentioned, Odette Anabelle ( Cuban, Spanish, French, Italian ) which this is just the start I can ensure you that London is doing the best we can to be a safe place for POC. While I can agree rules can reinforce this I would like londonhq to be a place where people can play who they feel comfortable with and I personally don’t see the harm in this as muse is something that comes naturally to people and you can’t force people to play muses they don’t want to play. If people don’t want to bring POC here that’s completely fine I can’t change their attitude on things, that’s a decision they have made but there are people here planning on bringing in POC and the more that they do hopefully the more they will feel comfortable to do so.

I was so saddened to receive this message and responded as such, because I simply cannot believe that they don’t see the harm in a group of players who are supposedly only comfortable playing white characters? Especially when they are promoting it as somewhere welcoming and inclusive. Sorry this one’s a long one!

waitresslondon: i won’t lie, i was incredibly disappointed to read your response. especially because I specifically mentioned the last response listing poc characters like tokens, which is the exact same thing you did in your reply just now. i reached out to you in the hopes that you were willing to listen and take an active part in making the rpc and your rp specifically more diverse and accepting. from your reply i can clearly see that that is not the case.

quite frankly, 4 out of 36 characters being portrayed by faceclaims of colour is not enough. it is nowhere near enough. especially when three of them are white passing. of course that does not erase their identity as a poc, but when it is you only form of representation it is not even close to being acceptable. like i said, just saying that you would like more poc muses isn’t “doing everything you can.” when i look at your masterlist, it immediately makes me think that my muses of colour will not be accepted in your rp. characters of colour are so often ignored and passed over for plots, which makes people incredibly wary about joining rps with their diverse muses, so please do consider that seeing a masterlist as overwhelmingly white as yours is an instant red flag.

change starts with YOU, the admins. if you want a diverse rp, you need to play diverse characters. you need to encourage your members to do the same, specifically like i mentioned with rules about multiple characters. if they are not comfortable playing poc muses, then they do not have to play multiples, but honestly i really can’t believe that you don’t see the issue with a group of writers who are only comfortable playing white characters. you’re telling me that people can happily take 4 or 5 characters and make them all differentiable from each other, but cannot bring themselves to write even one of them as a person of colour. there’s no excuse for it in this day and age honestly, there are countless guides about playing characters of all different backgrounds which are easy to find with very little effort. i’ve also been in and have adminned multiple rps where we have brought in this kind of rule and it absolutely did not stop people from applying for multiple characters. it only served to improve the diversity of faceclaims in the rp and encourage more people to join with their muses of colour.

you said “If people don’t want to bring POC here that’s completely fine I can’t change their attitude on things,” but as an admin you CAN. there are so many people in the rpc who play diverse muses, but without rules in place to make them welcome and wanted, you push them away. so i really must please implore you to look at your rp and the rules and make a positive change. i also can’t help but take it just a little bit personally: london is one of the most diverse cities in the world with over 40% of the population belonging to an ethnic minority, so it really does hurt to see it represented so poorly. again, i reached out to help and that offer still stands, if you are willing.

That was the end of the conversation, as they never responded to that message. This was about three weeks ago now, as I decided to give them time to see if they would adjust their behaviour and make any changes that would make it clear they had taken my criticism on board. Clearly this has not been the case. Below is the only post they have made about the matter:

[ IMAGE ID: A screenshot taken from londonhq of an admin note reading: “Hey everyone, Admin Armi here. I know there’s been some heavy concerns regarding the lack of diversity in this group and we feel we must address this once and for all. We admins here at LondonHQ have expressed since the opening day that we are a friendly, welcoming, inclusive group. We’d never turn away or even discourage any muse that is a POC or nonbinary, in fact, we highly encourage them! Diversity is greatly welcomed and desired. We’ve done all that we could to express how much we desire more diversity in this group as we’d love to hold true to how diverse London truly is. Now that being said, we cannot and will not force any of our players or applicants to pick up a FC regardless of their ethnicity or gender. As a WOC myself, I would personally find it incredibly offensive to implement such a rule solely based on one’s skin color. We’ve always encouraged our players to pick up the faces they are comfortable with, thus never banning a gender for the sake of the gender ratio. Our players’ comfort, happiness and creativity is our top priority. We welcome all variety of muses here at London. If you strongly feel we need to have more diversity in this group then please send in that app! We’d love to have you! Be the change you want to see. That’s all we have to say regarding this topic. Any further anonymous messages on this matter will be disregarded.” ]

I will let you draw your own conclusions from this post, but to me, it is clear that the lack of diversity in this group is not something they see a problem with nor truly wish to change. I was quite frankly shocked too to read them saying “Be the change you want to see.” As the admins, you need to be that change if you actually want to see it! It is not on your players to make your roleplay more diverse, it is on you.

As just one further point, they also continue to use a PSD that whitewashes the few faceclaims of colour that they have, which is just...yeah, you know, you get it.

#rpc #rpt #londonhq #i hate posting things like this i rly hope it's coherent etc

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Wanting Whispers || Paul Bissonnette

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Needless to say I have been in a Biz mood and well certain someones have been talking innocent kink on my dash recently and that led to this. It’s a lot. Gif possibly by @plasticfilth but not sure because I found it on google? Also, this is probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written so...

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut

Word Count: 8,235

_________

It had happened so slowly but at the same time all at once. Months of chirps and insinuations ending with you flat on your back screaming his name.

You’d heard rumors that Paul Bissonnette lived in your building when you first moved in, but it had been over a month and you hadn’t actually seen him. That all changed on a Friday night when you heard music blaring in the apartment above you. Yes it was a Friday, but you had a paper for graduate school due Sunday night and you were nowhere near finished. This was possibly the absolute worst weekend for your neighbor to decide to have a party. With the help of noise-canceling headphones, you were able to block it out enough to spend a few more hours working but eventually, your body started to fade and as you gave up deciding sleep was in order it was clear that the party was raging just as much as before if not more. Though you didn’t want to be that person, you really needed some sleep so after slipping on a sweatshirt over your pajamas you threw on a pair of sandals and grabbed your apartment keys, making your way over to the elevator and up one floor.

Having reached the upper level of apartments, it was abundantly clear which one contained the party as the volume of the music increased. Knocking on the door you ran your fingers through your hair and waited for a response. By the time it was tugged open you were ready to give up but as the door gave way your eyes met the broad figure of the man you’d heard about. His eyebrows merely raised at your presence and you bit back your nerves as you looked up at him.

“Listen...I’m your downstairs neighbor and I’d really like to be able to get some sleep tonight so can you please turn the music down a little bit. I have a 30-page paper due on Sunday and I really need sleep if I have any hopes of getting it done.” Your ramble was met with a critical gaze but eventually the man in front of you nodded.

“We’ll turn it down.” He promised and after murmuring your thanks you disappeared back down the hall. By the time you reached your apartment again, the music was at a more manageable level, one that could be blocked out with some white noise finally allowing you to pass out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

~~~

Though you hadn’t run into Biz prior to the party, since then it seemed like you were bumping into him in the lobby every other day. The first time you’d thanked him again for turning the music down and he’d asked how your paper had gone. The second you’d bumped into him as he was bringing a woman home when you’d caught the elevator just before it closed. It wasn’t until you were inside that you realized your neighbor had his tongue down a woman’s throat and immediately your cheeks flushed scarlet. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed you but as you stepped out of the elevator you heard him speaking your name telling you to have a good night.

Eventually your random meetings became not so random. One afternoon Biz was showing up at your door to request you keep an eye on his place for him and bring his mail in while he was out of town. When he returned, he appeared at your door once more, this time a bottle of Pink Whitney in hand in thanks. Eventually payment for his favors progressed to dinners in his apartment and he’d become less of a stranger and more of a friend. There was an obvious age difference between the two of you and his latest hookup had pretty much become his girlfriend but you didn’t have many people in Arizona and while his cooking skills were subpar, he certainly knew how to make you laugh and could distract you from the pressures of school.

Nearly a month of this level of friendship continued before Biz started in on the less innocuous subjects. Though it was clear that he knew what he was doing, the way he slipped them into conversation was subtle. One night it was inquiring if you had a hot date for Valentine's Day, the next it was a casual mention of how tense you seemed. Each time he alluded to your personal life a flush covered your cheeks and you quickly changed the subject throwing the conversation back at him. And each time he complied, changing the subject but his expression furrowed as he did so.

Eventually things ended between him and the woman he’d been seeing and though it didn’t really change things, it did mean that you found yourself at Paul’s apartment more or that he was in yours. With more time in closer contact, there were more occurrences of innocent touches and grazes as you moved around your kitchen cooking dinner or as he tugged you down onto the couch to watch a hockey game.

It had been nearly six months since you’d met Paul and he’d invited you up to his place to celebrate finishing the semester of school. An incredible dinner had been picked up and though he was cutting back on his drinking, he’d opened a bottle of wine for the two of you to toast with. Dinner and wine had ended with the two of you settled into his oversized couch as he flipped through tv channels. Instead of settling on one, suddenly he’d turned the tv off and instead shifted his body to face you.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.” Confusion filtered across your face but after a moment you hesitantly nodded. “When’s the last time you got laid?” He inquired and immediately your cheeks burned red in response. At the same time, a low chuckle slipped from his throat and he shook his head. “Fuck I can’t tell if the flush just means it’s been a while or…” He trailed off and when your blush deepened he almost growled. “No...no fucking way.” He mumbled to himself.

Feeling yourself starting to shut down, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“I uh...I should go. Thanks for dinner, Paul.” You whispered, trying frantically not to cry as you started for the door.

“Y/N. Wait.” Paul stated, his fingers ever so gently wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry. That was invasive...I just...you’re always so tense and almost withdrawn around me and I just...forget it. I’m sorry okay.” Nodding, you sent him a forced smile before pulling your wrist back and grabbing your things to head home for the night.

~~~

With Paul once again leaving town, it was a few days before you spoke, though even that was through text messages. Feeling slightly guilty for just running out on him you sent a short apology. A little while later your phone buzzed in response.

PB: No worries. My question was invasive and I’m sorry it upset you. Not judging you for it...just a little confused.

YN: What’s confusing about that?

PB: I mean is it because you’re like saving yourself for marriage because I totally respect that….

YN: You can say you think it’s a stupid idea. Because I can’t say I disagree with you.

PB: So you’re not?

YN: No.

PB: Then what gives?

YN: Why don’t you just think on that for a minute Paul.

For a few hours your phone remained silent and you tried not to think about everything you’d just implied. Instead you’d reached for a glass of wine and by the time Paul did respond, you were just on the wrong side of tipsy and your tongue was loose.

PB: I got nothing. But if you want to explain I’m all ears, if not that’s ok too.

YN: I’m not waiting for marriage but I am waiting for mutual attraction and trust. Needless to say, I’ve found neither.

PB: You’re saying there’s never been a boyfriend you wanted to bone?

YN: I’m saying there’s never been a boyfriend.

PB: Girlfriend then?

YN: I’m exclusively into men Paul.

PB: Damn.

You really didn’t know what to say to that so you dump your phone on your bed and by the time you return after brushing your teeth and washing your face you find a second notification of a message from your neighbor.

PB: Another question you don’t have to answer. Have you even been kissed?

YN: No.

PB: Fucking hell YN. That’s just. That’s insane.

YN: Gee thanks, Paul…

PB: You know I don’t mean it like that. God is there anything you have done?

YN: Uh yeah...I mean. I’ve sent/received some risque photos, I’ve had phone sex, I’ve sexted. I’ve gotten myself off.

When you didn’t receive a response right away, immediately the fear of having said too much started pushing down on you. Suddenly your phone rang and glancing down at the caller id you saw Paul’s name. You couldn’t remember him ever actually calling you before but your thumb hovered over the button for only a moment before you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. Nothing but the sound of Paul’s breathing followed and for a moment you almost hung up figuring that it was an accidental dial. Then he spoke, his voice deep and throaty.

“Fuck YN. You’re killing me right now.” He said. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue in this tone of voice was not something you’d heard before but your stomach coiled unconsciously at it all the same.

“What did I do?” You whispered, biting gently at the corner of your bottom lip.

“You tell me you’ve never been kissed and then admit you’ve had phone sex and touched yourself. That’s so fucking hot y/n and I almost can’t believe it.” Though you knew Paul didn’t mean any offense by the end of his statement, he once again hit a sore spot and you felt your breath strain in response.

“Why is it so hard to believe that men have never wanted me? You’ve seen me.” You shot back, all of your insecurities of being 27 and eternally single crashing over you.

“It’s hard to believe because I have seen you and gotten to know you YN.” Paul declared his voice losing some of his deep tone only to be replaced with softness. “You’re fucking gorgeous for one. And you’re one of the best people I know. Any man that turned down a shot with you is a fucking moron.”

“Paul stop, please. I can’t...I can’t handle any more sweet words that have no real backing. I know you mean well but please...don’t just try and make me feel better.”

“Trust me sweetheart...I’m not just trying to make you feel better,” Paul said, his voice nearly sinking into a groan. “There’s nothing sweet about how much I want to use my mouth, my fingers, my cock to make you fall apart. To see you experience just how good being physical with someone can be.”

A gasp spilled from your throat and you found yourself breathing his name.

“Yeah? You want that beautiful? Want me to make you see stars, to shatter you with pleasure?” Once again his name slipped from your throat, almost in a plea. “Yeah, baby? Are you attracted to me? Do you trust me? Promise I’ll take good care of you.” Your skin was on fire at his words and your brain was foggy with the mental image of him on top of you.

You were just about to agree. About to give him anything he wanted when he spoke one more time. “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight baby?”

“Three.” You admitted almost instantly, your mind and body pliant to whatever he wanted to know.

“Then don’t answer me tonight. Sleep on it, think it over with a clear head, and get back to me.” For a moment you wanted to protest, you were plenty capable of consenting now, but Paul once again stopped you. “I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable so I really do want you to take the time to think about it when your head isn’t fogged over with booze and lust. Tonight doesn’t have to change anything between us if you don’t want it to.”

As the phone line went dead, you tugged your blankets higher on your body, your mind racing to process what had just happened.

~~~

It had been nearly a week since your phone call by the time Paul returned to town. He hadn’t reached out to you and though you wanted to, you hadn’t reached out to him. After spending a week lost in your own mind as you weighed the pros and cons of it all, you finally found yourself standing in front of Paul’s door, your hand lifted to knock.

Within a moment of your short knock, the door flew open revealing a shirtless Paul. At the sight of him all of the questions and thoughts that you’d had running through your head vanished...except for one. Before he could even greet you, you had pushed your way inside his apartment, your hands wringing nervously.

“I just have one question.” You exclaimed, your voice cracking. “Do you seriously want me?” You watched as Paul stepped closer to you, his hand reaching up to sweep a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Even that simple touch sent sparks through your body and you couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that you’d never felt safe when a man touched you, however innocently, until now. Any sort of touch had previously made you feel uncomfortable but right here and now you couldn’t help but want Paul to touch you everywhere.

“I seriously want you.” Paul insisted, his body moving a step closer to your own. “But more importantly...do you want me? Do you trust me?” Immediately you started to nod but Paul refused to take that for an answer, his gaze pressing you to provide him with verbal consent.

“I do.” You immediately breathed, Paul’s left hand settling on your right hip in response. Your pulse was racing, unsure of whether your consent meant anything was going to happen right now. With your gaze locked on his, you watched as Paul leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your mouth before his lips pressed gently down onto your own. Though you saw it coming, you still gasped in response and that action allowed Paul to deepen the kiss as his hands pulled you firmly against his body. Having never been kissed before, you tried to mirror his movements, hoping that that would be okay.

You were breathless when Paul finally pulled away and though his eyes were dark, he simply dropped a single kiss to your forehead before stepping backward.

“Just a little something for you to think about.” He teased. Your lips were swollen and your eyes blown as you gazed up at him and he only smirked in response. “We’re gonna do this right so be ready tomorrow night at 7 for dinner. Wear a dress or a skirt for me.” He instructed, and though you hadn’t expected any of this to include all of that, you found yourself nodding as you moved to leave Paul’s apartment.

You knew you should run errands or do laundry but instead you curled up on your couch unable to stop thinking about the way it felt to have Paul’s mouth pressed against your own.

~~~

Dinner the next night went far better than you expected it to. Conversation with Paul was as easy as it always was, but now there was an underlying current ready to light you up with a single spark. From dinner, the two of you returned home and sitting in his passenger seat, the anxious feelings of what you expected to come filled you. So when Paul simply walked you to your door, dropping another gentle kiss to your mouth before pulling away, you were slightly surprised. Sensing your confusion Paul chuckled softly before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“As much as I want to drag you to bed...especially when you look like this...I’m not going to.” He explained. “I want you to be completely comfortable with me and I get that means taking things a step at a time. I know you y/n...I know you’re freaking out and overthinking every single physical act and that’s not what I want. I want it all to feel natural and right for you.”

The fact that Paul clearly cared so much about even your unspoken needs reaffirmed that you were making the right decision.

“Come inside for a bit?” You questioned and after examining your body language Paul eventually agreed. Grabbing a few bottles of water from the fridge you met him over at your couch and settled yourself in beside him, tucked against his side. With his gaze heavy upon you, you took the initiative to make the first move and shifted to kiss him. As your mouths explored each other’s Paul’s left arm draped itself around you, securing you to him while his right slid just under the bottom edge of your dress. The heat from his body urged you forward and gradually the two of you settled into a steamy makeout session, one that caused your skin to tingle. The more you kissed, the more comfortable you became and by the time Paul pulled away, his eyes were hazy and dark.

“You’re getting good at that.” He teased softly. “A little too good.” He added, slipping his hand from where it was resting on your thigh to reach for the water you’d set on the coffee table. Watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, you basked in how his dress shirt clung to his skin, showing off just how strong and broad he was and as your eyes trailed down his body you noticed him straining against his pants. Watching you watch him, Paul surged forward with another kiss, the press of his lips against yours mostly sweet with a tinge of desire. “I should go.” He eventually murmured and though you didn’t want him to pull away, deep down you knew that he needed to because if he didn’t you’d be delving into waters deeper than you were honestly ready for.

“Alright.” You agreed. “Thank you, Paul. For dinner. And for this.”

“‘Course sweetheart. Anytime.” He replied and from your spot on the couch, you watched him leave, flipping the latch to secure your front door behind him.

~~~

One week. One week and a beautifully tailored suit. That was what it had taken for things to rise beyond the level of just kissing.

Paul had stopped by your apartment on his way home from a matinee game, just like he stopped by whenever he arrived home for the day lately, even if only for a few minutes. The moment you’d opened your door, you immediately felt your body respond because this was a suit you had never seen before and god did it do all the right things for him.

Tugging him through the door, you’d pulled him down into a kiss. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he finally pulled back, like he knew just how much he was affecting you right now. Which to be honest he probably did know. Still, even if he knew his appearance was affecting you, the words that left your mouth next left him speechless.

“Take it off Paul. I wanna explore you.” You’d been thinking about it for a while now and you knew that you needed this to be the next step. You were comfortable with your own body, you were comfortable with your own touch so you knew that his attention on you wouldn’t be that shocking. It was the male form that was new and you were certain that if you wanted to be comfortable having sex that becoming comfortable with all of him was key. Everything else seemed secondary.

When Paul didn’t respond to you right away, you felt a small smirk growing on your lips at the thought of throwing him off-kilter even a little. Stretching onto your tiptoes you kissed along his jaw and your fingers anchored themselves in the fabric of his dress shirt. Paul’s silence didn’t last long and eventually, he nodded, his lips capturing your own once more.

“Whatever you want sweetheart.” He agreed and immediately your fingers started fumbling to undo the buttons on his shirt. The moment your fingers met his hot skin, everything felt a little foggier, like you were already drowning in him. “Easy baby.” Paul murmured, sensing your desire. His fingers worked to assist yours in undoing the rest of his buttons and it was only a moment more before both his suit jacket and shirt were draped over the back of your couch.

Tracing both your eyes and your fingers over his body, you focused on how tan his skin was, how the ink of his tattoos sprawled over his arms and abdomen, and how the hair on his chest felt under your fingers. He was all man and he hadn’t even taken his pants off yet.

“See something you like?” Paul teased and lifting your gaze up to his, you watched as he once again swallowed hard at the look in your eyes. “Fuck.” He groaned and hearing that sound only made you want to know what other sounds he could make. Your hands quickly fell to his belt and you bit your lip trying to focus on undoing the leather restraint. Before your hands could fall to the button and zipper of his pants however, Paul was lifting them away from his body. “Should we take this to the bedroom baby?” He suggested and though waiting even one more moment to continue undressing him seemed like too much you sighed in resignation.

The delay was made a little more bearable when Paul’s hands fell to the back of your thighs and he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist. From this position you could feel him straining in his pants and you couldn’t help but moan at the thought of what was waiting for you, hidden from sight. Since the floorplans of your apartments were the same, it was easy for Paul to make his way back to your bedroom, not stopping until he had gently laid you back onto your bed, hovering over you to kiss you once more. With your hair sprawled across the pillows you felt him groan against your neck and in between kisses to your skin he murmured about how this could happen here but sex was happening in his bed because he wanted to see you writhing and shaking in his sheets. It seemed like a silly distinction to you but if that was what he wanted, you were more than happy to comply.

First though, you had some exploring of your own to do, so after kissing him for another minute or so you gently pushed him off of you, signaling for him to roll onto his back. And to be honest, it was almost too much just how large he seemed in your full-sized bed. Perching over him, you pressed another kiss to his lips before wandering down his exposed body, exploring everything your eyes and fingers had before in a new way. A moment’s pause was spent over each of his scars, though that moment was longer when you reached the scar on his wrist that nearly cost him his life. It was hard to think of a world without this man. It was hard to think of your life without him and for just a breath you gave into the tears forming before you kissed over the scarred skin once more and then pulled away.

Glancing up at Paul revealed a concerned gaze but after pressing your lips against his quickly, he relaxed, smirk returning to his face. Not once did he urge you for more, letting you explore him completely at your own pace but when your fingers finally found the button and then the zipper of his pants, his breath hitched. After a silent communication, he lifted his hips allowing you to tug his pants down over his legs and while you were at it, you slipped both his shoes and socks off of his feet leaving him in only his boxer briefs.

This was the first moment in which you’d felt even the slightest bit intimated, because while you’d watched porn and had previously been sent a few dick pics, this was your first time seeing one in person and even the outline of his penis through the thin fabric sent a wave of anxiety through you.

“C’mere.” Paul breathed, seeing your hesitation. Sliding back up his body, you accepted his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your mouth down to his own. “We can stop whenever you want.” He reminded you and though your voice was tinged with a certain level of fear it was mostly defiant.

“I want to keep going.” You insisted. Nodding, Paul kissed you once more, deeper this time, and as he swept his tongue against yours, his free hand grasped your own, guiding it to touch him through his underwear. With your brain focused on the way he was kissing you, there wasn’t any room to worry about anything, though your body was quickly registering how hot he felt in your hand, how solid but yet soft he was at the same time. You didn’t even fully realize that your hand was moving at all until you felt the sensation of skin on skin as you slipped your hand under his waistband to stroke him.

“That’s it baby.” Paul groaned in your ear when your kiss broke and you turned your head to look down at where your hand was acting of its own accord. Though you could feel every bump and ridge under your fingers, it wasn’t enough and you pushed past the momentary anxiety to free him from his briefs, tossing them to the floor and exposing him to you for the first time. Initially you weren’t sure what you were thinking or feeling as you peered down at his solid length. You may have had small hands, but girth wise you could barely wrap your fingers around him and lengthwise he was longer than your palm from fingertip to wrist. In your mind it was a good size and the way his cock curved slightly leading up to the uncircumcised head was appealing. If you had looked up, you would have noticed Paul’s slightly worried expression but you didn’t, too absorbed in the sight of all of him spread out for you and only you.

The shifting sunlight through the window revealed a drop of moisture leaking from the head of Paul’s cock and instinct drew you to rub your thumb over the moisture, pushing Paul’s foreskin further out of the way. His only response was a hitch of his breath but you continued, trailing your short nails over his length lightly, almost in awe of the way he twitched against you. Exploring him was such an empowering feeling, knowing that his pleasure was entirely in your hands. You stroked him gently, let your hand drift down to cup his balls and even kissed your way from base to tip, your mouth feather-light against his skin.

Having completed a preliminary exploration you looked up at him to see his eyes dark as he watched you. Kissing his tip once more you watched his response, your own blood pulsing through your veins as you watched his arousal heighten.

“What do you need me to do?” You questioned softly. “Talk me through this Paul.” Your request drew a long groan from Paul’s throat.

“Up to you baby...I’m happy with either your hand or your mouth.” Growing low in your belly was the primal need to make him cum and it was all you could really focus on. The slightly salty taste of him lingered on your tongue and though you knew your gag reflex would likely be a problem, you wanted to blow him, wanted to feel the swell of him in your mouth. Licking over his head once more, you parted your lips and focused on keeping your teeth out of the way as you sunk down on him as much as you could. It was a strange feeling but you repeated that action twice before shifting your hand to stroke what you hadn’t fit into your mouth. Though you were certain this definitely wasn’t the best blowjob, Paul kept muttering praises, urging you to keep going, to stroke your hand against him in a certain way, to pull back and breathe.

You continued, doing your best to follow his instructions and feeling him twitch in your mouth as he groaned and grunted above you. Eventually though, Paul’s fingers in your hair drew you off of him and guided you up to kiss him again.

“Just use your hand sweetheart. I’m so close. Want you to watch me.” Your toes curled a bit hearing that you were close to making him cum and you nodded, resting your head against his shoulder as you slipped your hand back down his body to stroke over his dick. Once more he directed you to do more of this or less of that and after brushing your thumb over his head once more you watched as his body shook and semen spilled from him as he moaned heavily in your ear. You couldn’t explain the pride you felt at being the cause of his orgasm and though a bright flush littered your cheeks, you kissed him again before sliding off the bed to wash your hands and retrieve a warm, wet washcloth for him.

Letting him clean up, you settled back in bed next to him and let him curl you against his body as he napped for a few minutes while his body recovered. When he stirred he was eager to check in with you about what you were thinking, what you had enjoyed about that, ect. The way he was openly communicating with you and urging you to do the same with him only made you feel more secure and ready to share all of these experiences with him.

~~~~

When you’d met Paul, the last thing you’d expected was for him to be the gentle, caring, dare you say romantic man who put all of your needs above his own. But so far, you had yet to see him act selfish, yet to see him do anything that he thought would make you uncomfortable and because of that you were flourishing under his attention, growing in your sexuality and as a person generally.

You’d always thought that it would take you a significant period of time to open up to someone regarding being with them physically, but it had only been a couple weeks since Paul made his interest in you clear and you were beyond ready. Still, Paul had made no mention of anything further happening, continuing to let you set the pace. And you’d been dropping hints. Every single time you saw him. But he seemed to be completely oblivious.

Or maybe he was less oblivious than you’d thought. Because you’d come home today to find a box sitting outside your door and when you’d gotten inside and opened it, hidden underneath a layer of tissue paper was a satin slip with lace around the bust. It was mostly white with a floral print and it was both sexy but modest all wrapped into one garment. If finding lingerie outside your door wasn’t enough to make you blush, the note tucked inside the box was.

Clean yourself up, dinner will be ready for 7:30. I can’t wait to see every inch of you.

Paul

Following his directions, you rushed into the shower, taking the time to shave leaving your skin silky smooth. Applying just the faintest coat of makeup, you teased your hair into some loose waves before sliding on the lingerie and then slipping into a little black dress over it. By the time you finished getting ready it was almost 7:30 and as you peered at yourself in the mirror, you had never felt sexier. Making sure that you had taken your birth control for the night, you slipped into a pair of sandals and grabbed both your phone and your keys before heading upstairs.

Paul called for you to come in when you knocked on his door and you entered to find him pulling a dish out of the oven, snug jeans covering his bottom half while a white button-up was pushed up to his elbows. He looked incredible and you dropped your things in the entryway, slipping your shoes off before padding over to him barefoot. The moment you reached him he leaned down to gently kiss you and then murmured for you to go sit at the table. Shortly after, you had a plate of food in front of you along with a small glass of wine and a large glass of water. It didn’t take a genius to see that tonight was the night but while you’d thought you’d feel nervous, you just felt ready...that spark in your stomach just waiting to be lit.

You laughed at Paul’s stories through dinner before helping him clean up the kitchen. As you finished putting the last dish away you realized that Paul had disappeared and when you went looking for him, you found him finishing lighting candles in his bedroom, blankets pulled down to the foot of the bed for easy access.

“Paul…” You breathed, almost in awe that he was going to all of this effort for you. He cursed softly at the sound of your voice before turning, an almost sheepish look on his face. “What’s all this?” You continued, your body drawing you closer to his. As you pressed yourself against his chest, his right arm slipped around your waist and he bent to press his forehead to yours.

“I know you probably didn’t expect all of this...nor do you think you need it.” He murmured and you had to admit he was right on both accounts. “But…” He continued. “If I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets a shot with you I’m gonna do everything I can to make it good for you.” Your heart swelled at his words, at the fact that he was honestly going above and beyond anything you could have expected.

“Can’t wait to see just what your definition of good is.” You teased, closing the distance between your mouths to kiss him. His lips on yours was definitely something you weren’t sure you could ever get sick of and while there was a nagging thought as to what would happen after tonight, you weren’t about to let that ruin things. What would come tomorrow was a problem for tomorrow’s version of you, tonight’s version of you was looking forward to having her brains fucked out.

You honestly weren’t sure how long you stood beside Paul’s bed kissing, but eventually his hands slid from their spot at your waist down to your ass and he gently lifted you to set you onto his soft mattress. Finally breaking away from your mouth he leaned back and you watched as his eyes took in your body.

“Give me a minute to memorize the way you look right now.” He mumbled and once more you felt your cheeks flush in response to him. You weren’t sure you’d ever get over being looked at like this. And you weren’t sure you wanted to.

After a moment, Paul bent back down and you felt his breath against the shell of your ear before his mouth dipped to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin along your neck. “So beautiful.” He murmured and with one hand sweeping light trails along your side and over your arm you already felt your desire for him growing. But as impatient as you were feeling, you let him take his time, the same way he let you take your time with him. Thankfully, Paul sensed your impatience and after the dancing around each other that honestly felt like it had been going on forever, even if it wasn’t long at all, it was clear that he was just as ready to move things forward as you were.

He’d thoroughly marked your neck up by the time his hands drifted down to the bottom of your dress and with a smile and a nod that layer of fabric was removed, leaving you in nothing but the slip and a thong you’d pulled out from the very back of your drawer. Paul groaned the second he saw you in the lingerie he had purchased and you saw the second his eyes darkened when he realized that your nipples were already pebbled through the thin fabric.

“See something you like?” You teased, repeating his words from the first time you saw him. Realizing that you’d just thrown his own phrase back at him, Paul laughed and your smile widened. You’d never thought intimacy could be so easy and comfortable but with Paul, it was all of that and more.

“I see things I more than like.” He finally responded and you moaned as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples through the thin fabric of the slip. In all the time you’d spent exploring your own body, you had never gotten as much pleasure from massaging your own breasts as you’d gotten from less than a minute of Paul’s attention on them. With your body arching into him, his large hands slipped behind your back for a moment to pull you closer to him. He continued, swapping to your other breast after a while until you were practically panting under him.

“Paul please.” You whimpered and he smirked up at you.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?” He teased. “Trust me baby...I’ll destroy you all in due time.” His words were only turning you on more and you reached down to fumble with his button-up again.

“Goddamnit Paul...take your shirt off.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to feel his bare chest pressing down on you. His smirk softened a bit and he rested back on his knees as he worked his shirt off of his body before laying back down over you, pressing some of his weight onto your body.

“That what you want?” He asked. Your fingers scraped along his scalp as you nodded before quickly dropping down to run over his shoulders. He was so sexy and there was still a part of you that couldn’t believe that you were getting to feel him like this.

After making out for a few more minutes, Paul’s hips rutting down against your own, he pulled back and started kissing down your body, flicking his tongue over your nipples once more before settling himself between your spread thighs. Just the sight of him there made you shiver but true goosebumps appeared over every surface of your body as he kissed from your knee to the crease of your thigh before repeating the action on the other leg.

“You’re so wet for me.” He commented, his thumb pressing over the lace of your thong right where you needed him most. “So wet for me.” He repeated. “But I’m gonna make you fall apart on my mouth and my fingers just like I promised.” His eyes sought consent once more as his fingers slipped under the edge of the thong and when you moaned his name the fabric quickly joined the other pieces on the floor and for the first time you were truly exposed to him, only the slip still covering your body. “Stunning.” He declared, his hot breath dancing across your skin making you more and more needy for him.

You’d thought you were prepared for this...but there wasn’t anything that could prepare you for the way Paul’s mouth felt as he dove into your core. It was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing, but not only that, that he truly enjoyed it as well. His forearm draped across your pelvis to keep your hips in place as he worked your body over. You’d never orgasmed this fast before but within only a few minutes you felt yourself spiraling over the edge as his tongue fucked into you. He worked you through your orgasm, tongue soothing gently over your heated flesh while licking up all of the juices he’d drawn from you. Then for a moment, he kissed at your hip, letting some of your sensitivity ebb.

Your break had barely begun when he slipped first one and then a second large finger inside of you, curling them and flexing them to stretch you out for him. As he did so, he moved back up the bed to kiss you and for the first time you tasted yourself on his tongue. It was dirty but sexy at the same time and you couldn’t control the endless string of moans against his mouth as he pushed you closer and closer to your second orgasm.

“You’re so sexy.” Paul groaned and glancing over you could see just how much he was straining against his jeans. Reaching over you flicked open the button and gently drew the zipper down, hoping to provide him with some relief. The release of pressure was clearly appreciated because Paul’s fingers sped up inside you and you felt your second orgasm behind to crest. “That’s my girl.” Paul murmured against the skin of your neck. “C’mon baby. Come for me again. Let me feel you clench around my fingers just like you’ll clench around my dick. You’re so goddamn tight baby.” Whether it was his words or the way he curled his fingers to press against your g-spot, you were soon seeing stars and you cried out loudly as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through you.

When you finally settled, you found Paul gazing down at you completely in awe. “You didn’t tell me you’re a squirter.” He groaned and an embarrassed expression graced your face. Having wiped his fingers on the sheets, Paul’s hand slipped into your hair and he tugged your mouth back to his. “No...none of that. You don’t know how fucking sexy that is Y/N.” He insisted. Though your cheeks were still flushed you focused yourself on Paul’s kiss, moaning as he nipped at the skin of your lips.

“You’re so expressive, baby. I can’t get enough.” He assured you, his hands sliding to tug the satin slip up and off of your body. When he didn’t speak at first, you felt the nerves creeping back in but they were quickly silenced by Paul’s string of expletives as he eyed you. “You. Are. So. Sexy.” He repeated kissing each of your breasts and then down over the swell of your stomach before returning his mouth to yours. With the fire rising in your veins again, stronger than ever before, you slipped your hands down to push his jeans off over his ass before cupping him through his boxer briefs again.

“I swear Paul if you don’t fuck me soon…” You trailed off. Paul wore a devilish smirk and he trailed his hands over your body.

“What are you gonna do?” He teased. A frustrated whimper slipped from your throat and you squirmed against the sheets trying to quell the aching feeling that was starting to drive you crazy. “Answer me, baby.” Paul pushed, his thumb slipping down to put just the slightest amount of pressure on your throbbing clit.

“I’m gonna explode.” You whined. A second whine escaped you as Paul climbed off of the bed and he chuckled softly at just how desperate you were for him.

“Just give me a second sweetheart.” He insisted and you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor and a nightstand drawer opening before Paul was beside you again, his fingers brushing away the frustrated tears that had slipped down your cheeks. You were feeling so much and yet it wasn’t enough and you truly felt like you were going to burst if something didn’t happen soon.

Paul’s thumb lifted your chin, bringing your eyes to his own and then he guided your hand to help roll the condom down over his length. “You need to relax for me Y/N.” Paul directed. “This shouldn’t hurt but it might sting a little and I just need you to relax and focus on me. I promise you I’m gonna make you feel so good.” The sound of his words was grounding and you nodded, not sure whether to watch his face or the way his body connected with yours. Feeling the pressure of his cock head at your core had you choosing the latter and you gasped as he slowly pressed inside you, your body taking him eagerly. There wasn’t any feeling besides pressure, besides feeling full and you moaned at the knowledge that this was as close as you could ever be to another person.

When you looked up at Paul’s face you could see him watching you, could see the strain to remain still. Brushing your thumb over his cheek you nodded up at him.

“I’m good Paul. Promise.” You insisted. “Please move.” His shoulders slumped a bit in relief as he drew his hips back before thrusting forward again. The pace he set was slow and easy but it was already providing delicious friction. The way his body pinned you to the bed as he fucked into you made you feel so small and you were overwhelmed at all of the feelings rushing through you.

When Paul shifted your legs to wrap around his waist, he slid even deeper inside of you and you cursed, tears prickling in your eyes. Immediately Paul froze, scared he had hurt you but you kissed him softly in reassurance. The feeling of him that deep didn’t hurt, it was just more than you had expected and you were certain you were going to feel him for days.

As the friction built, so did the pleasure and gradually your moans grew louder and came more frequently. In turn, Paul’s pace increased just slightly and his grunts in your ear were swapped for the sound of his voice pleading for you to cum, praising you for just how good you felt wrapped around him. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Paul kissed you and though you hadn’t seen it coming, your orgasm hit suddenly causing your body to bow beneath him and a shriek of his name to spill from your lips. A low groan and a twitch of his cock inside you signaled that he had spilled into the condom and he collapsed half on top of you and half beside you as your bodies struggled to come down from their highs.

With Paul’s face nestled into your breast, you laid there for a few minutes before he gingerly pulled out of you causing you to wince. The bed shifted as Paul moved to discard the condom but eventually, he returned, gathering you in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. He instructed you to pee and then guided you into the shower to quickly rinse off. By the time you’d returned he’d changed the sheets on the bed, the candles had been blown out, and a t-shirt was laid out for you to change into.

Tugging the t-shirt over your body, you let Paul pull you back onto the bed and he tucked you into his chest.

“You were incredible.” He whispered. “That was incredible.” It was a relief to know that he enjoyed that as much as you had, but now that the deed was done you couldn’t help but wonder what, if anything, came next. It wasn’t that you would ever regret this, there was no way you could when it had been so perfect. If you had lost your virginity as a teenager there was no way you would have gotten three orgasms from the experience like you did now with him. It was well worth the wait in your mind and you could only hope that the delay in getting here had been worth it for him as well.

Sensing your mental turmoil, Paul groaned and shifted to tangle your bodies together further. “Turn that brain of yours off.” He grumbled. “I still have a million other things to teach you, don’t I?”

It was just like Paul to quell all of your worries with one stupid phrase. There were so many things he could teach you...about sex and about life. If he was willing, well, you certainly weren’t going to turn it down. Not when it felt like this.

#paul bissonnette #paul bissonnette imagine #paul bissonnette nws #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes imagine #nws #lemon #029 #former player #former player imagine

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star-linedsoul · 4 years

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Legacy: A Supernatural Fanfiction | Sneak Peek

STORY SUMMARY:

Dean & Sam Winchester have spent their lives surrounded by the evil forces of the world, pushed and pulled and forced to bend in attempt to rid the world of evil and save innocent lives. As such, they jump at the chance to close the gates of Hell, forever removing demons from the face of the Earth. However, a visitor from the future causes the brothers to question this decision as the cost of this endeavor makes itself clear. Raised in a future where demons rule the world, Erica Winchester longs for an escape from the darkness that has destroyed her family. Sending herself to the past to finish the job her father started long ago, she hopes to atone for her own mistakes as much as she hopes to fix her world. As she delves into nigh-impossible trials and ancient magicks, however, she begins to wonder whether redemption is even possible. Perhaps, in the end, destiny cannot be avoided. Perhaps, for a Winchester, the only possible legacy is one of blood and death.

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

After the events of episode 8x13, “Everybody Hates Hitler,” Sam & Dean return to the Men of Letters bunker to find that they are no longer the only ones entrusted with its secrets. A search ensues to determine who or what has compromised the security of their new home.

Well, as definitive proof that I really need to work on my self-control, the writing bug has officially refused to leave me alone when it comes to this WIP. It will probably be awhile before I post any full chapters of this story, but I couldn’t resist sharing an excerpt featuring the first meeting between Dean and my OC Erica. I’m trying a couple new things in regards to a more concise writing style and a streamlined writing process that will hopefully allow me to write faster. Feel free to give me some input/constructive criticism on whether or not you feel it works! I put the excerpt under a read more due to length and mild spoilers for anyone that isn’t caught up on the series!

Legacy Taglist: @wordspin-shares

As always, my askbox and messaging are always open for discussion or if you would like to be added to the taglist! :D

EXCERPT:

Shaking his head at how ridiculous it was to be playing hide and go seek in his own home—without even knowing who he was looking for—Dean securely latched the door on his way out of the bedroom. No one was violating his space more than they already had. Not if he had anything to say about it.

The hunter crossed the corridors on silent feet, every sense tuned to pick up on the slightest sign of the bunker’s mystery guests. He knew he had finally struck gold as he turned into the hall leading to the garage. Amid the funky rhythm and melodic vocals of what his ears immediately recognized as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the metallic clang of tools clattering together sang through the air. He knew that sound well. Pressing his back against the wall flanking the stairs that led up into the garage, he quickly texted Sam, letting him know that he had finally found something.

Dean ascended the first few stairs leading into the garage, stopping when he was just high enough to see over the concrete walls of the motorcycle bays flanking the stairwell. Scanning the open garage, he found all of the cars and bikes still in their places, with the sounds coming from the corner workspace at the rear. He ducked back down out of sight as he caught movement between the shelves that separated the work area from the rest of the garage. Bingo.

The hunter not-so-patiently waited until his phone vibrated with Sam’s confirmation that he was on his way before climbing the stairs to fully enter the garage. He kept his gun low but at the ready as quick strides carried him toward the corner, where a single figure was silhouetted behind the shelves. Ready to duck out of sight if anyone else should show up, he stayed close to the vehicle bays.

Several choice curses punctuating Anthony Kiedis’ melancholic crooning through “Californication” had Dean categorizing this particular intruder as female, and he absently wondered if this was the owner of the jacket he and Sam had found in the library. The loud music masked his steps as he approached the gap that left the workspace open to the rest of the garage, giving him a moment to survey the scene without being noticed by the target. This objective was even better served when he saw that the woman stood at the near end of a collapsible worktable, on which rested a shiny, black and chrome motorcycle. Her back was to the hunter as she leaned one shoulder against the bike’s rear tire to hold it in place while she struggled to install its axle with her free hand.

“Come on, girl,” she growled between the dull thuds of a rubber mallet knocking the axle into place. “Stop being such a bitch!”

As if the bike heard her, the shaft finally found its seat. Dropping the rubber mallet to the table, the woman rested one hand on the reinstalled tire, running her other hand through choppy black hair as she muttered, “Finally!”

Deciding to press his advantage while the woman was still unaware that she was no longer alone, Dean reached over and turned off the small stereo on the shelf next to him. As the intro to “By the Way” abruptly cut to silence, the hunter raised his pistol to the ready position. “Nice bike.”

With a loud gasp, the woman whirled around, swiping the mallet from the table once again and adopting a defensive stance in a single, fluid motion. She froze, however, as she spotted the gun leveled at her chest. Narrowed eyes widened in surprise and a crinkle formed along her brows while her knuckles turned white from gripping the mallet in her hand.

“Who are you?”

“Funny. I was planning on asking you the same thing,” Dean gestured to the woman’s hands with the barrel of his gun. “Drop that mallet and kick it under the table. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The hunter thought for a moment that the woman was going to try something very stupid. She had the looks of an animal caught in headlights and panicking, seconds away from bolting. He had left her nowhere to run, making him wonder if she might try to charge him. He had her unquestionably outmatched in size, but fear made people do crazy things. Luckily, she proved to be a bit more sensible. Though her body was still taut with tension and her eyes remained glued to him, she crouched and placed the mallet on the floor. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender as she rose, kicking the mallet away.

Though it was the result that he had wanted, something didn’t sit right with Dean. He couldn’t quite explain what it was. Maybe it was that this was too easy. Maybe it was that the intruder seemed to be trying too hard to appear normal. This woman before him had somehow managed to infiltrate their bunker—which was supposed to be secret and hidden—and yet she was tinkering in the garage instead of robbing the place of its virtually priceless collection. Nothing about her appearance suggested that she was anything other than average. Surely no older than thirty, she wore a simple, black T-shirt, form-fitting jeans, and scuffed biker boots, with no logos or embellishments visible that might be traced back to a store. No charms or amulets decorated her wrists or hung around her neck, nor were any weapons visible that might suggest that she was a hunter. And yet there was something unsettling about her. About how quickly she had picked up that mallet and prepared to defend herself only to disarm just as fast. About how she looked as submissive as possible, wide-eyed and with her hands in the air, and yet her entire body was tensed as if ready for a fight.

Remaining on alert, Dean stepped closer to the woman only for her to back away in equal measure. “What do you want?”

The hunter was sure it was meant to be a demand, but her voice was too shaky for it to have the desired effect. “Hey, you’re the one in my home without permission, sweetheart. I’ll handle the questions.” Before she could protest further, Dean closed the distance between them, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her to turn around. “Keep those hands up.”

His pistol ready in one hand just in case, he quickly skimmed his free hand over the woman’s lean frame. Starting at her torso, he then went down one denim-clad leg, confiscating the switchblade tucked into her boot. On the way up the other leg, he swiped the leather wallet from her back pocket.

“Hey!” she protested, whirling back around and reaching for the wallet. “Give that back!”

Dean dodged her, moving out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back so long as you don’t do anything stupid.” He could tell she didn’t like that answer as her hands tightened into fists. Green eyes fixed him with a scorching glare, which he elected to ignore as he flipped open the wallet to check for ID. “Got any friends with you?”

“It’s just me.” Dean glanced up at the woman’s wooden tone, but he found that she wasn’t looking at him, fixed on a spot behind his left shoulder. Then, faintly, “Oh…there’s two of you.”

Turning to follow her stare, Dean found his brother surveying the scene, pistol lowered but ready. About damn time. “Hi, Sammy! I’m so glad you finally decided to join us.”

The younger Winchester answered with a curt nod, glancing between his brother and the woman he’d cornered. “What’s going on?”

“I was just getting acquainted with our new friend here.” Dean made a show of holding up the ID he had pulled from their guest’s wallet, keeping his tone casual. “Meet Erica Jackson from Seminole, Oklahoma. She’s a...let’s see, carry the one, thirteen minus seven…twenty-six year old Gemini and”—he raised an eyebrow, looking at the woman’s choppy black locks—“a blonde?”

She shifted her weight to one leg, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, is dying hair a crime these days?”

Dean definitely didn’t like that snippy tone. “No, but breaking and entering is. So give me one good reason why you’re in my garage and I’ll think about letting you walk outta here.”

“I-I didn’t know anyone lived here.” Erica had the decency to at least pretend to be remorseful, nervously tucking her hair behind one ear and scuffing one toe against the concrete as she glanced between the brothers. “The place was empty when I found it.”

“And you just decided to move in?” Sam inferred, moving forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean.

“No, of course not!” Erica returned, indignant. But then she faltered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, kind of, I guess…” She huffed. “It’s a long story.”

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official-transsexual · 5 years

Text

FAQ

(last updated September 11, 2019)

Q: What is dysphoria? A: Dysphoria is a diagnostic term meaning “profound distress or discomfort.” It is a common symptom of many psychiatric disorders. It's been used this way for over a century (example 1, example 2, example 3). “Gender dysphoria” refers to dysphoria that occurs as a result of incongruence between a person’s assigned sex and gender identity. To meet the diagnostic criteria for the psychiatric disorder “Gender Dysphoria” the DSM-V specifically states that the incongruence must cause “significant distress or problems functioning.” Sex/gender incongruence that doesn’t cause this distress or dysfunction is NOT considered disordered.

Q: I was told that the APA defined gender dysphoria as “conflict between a person’s physical or assigned gender and the gender with which he/she/they identify.” A: This particular line is a quote from a page on the APA website that was meant to briefly summarize the diagnostic criteria for Gender Dysphoria. It is not the full diagnostic criteria, which is described further down the page. Along with the checklist of traits, the diagnostic criteria for both children and adults include “distress or inpairment functioning” as specific necessary condition: “In adolescents and adults gender dysphoria diagnosis involves a difference between one’s experienced/expressed gender and assigned gender, and significant distress or problems functioning [...] In children, gender dysphoria diagnosis involves at least six of the following and an associated significant distress or impairment in function, lasting at least six months.” Again: that “distress or problems functioning” criteria is mandatory; this is why the line meant to summarize gender dysphoria uses the word “conflict” instead of a more neutral term like “incongruence” or even “difference.” The APA’s endorsed expert opinion on the subject states more explicitly that “not all transgender people suffer from gender dysphoria.” According to members of the APA workgroup responsible for writing the Gender Dysphoria diagnostic criteria, the term “dysphoria” was chosen based on the logic that “if the new diagnosis would focus more on the dysphoria aspect (e.g., in the name) than does the current one, no separate distress criterion would be necessary, because the distress would be defined as inherent to the diagnosis” (sci-hub pdf). Note that they ended up keeping the distress criterion in the diagnosis despite the redundancy, presumably because they were afraid that it might not be clear enough that they were referring to distress while using a medical term that literally means “significant distress.” The exact DSM-5 criteria (which I transcribe here) further makes it clear that gender dysphoria requires distress, rather than simply gender incongruence.

Q: Why does it matter how we define dysphoria? A: It’s a matter of relevance. When discussing gender dysphoria in the context of the medical model, the relevant definition is the one that gets used within the medical system.

Q: But what if we worked to change the medical definition of gender dysphoria? A: I’ve see this idea brought up in my notes a few times, and it’s honestly just a terrible idea. The overpathologization of distress responses is a huge concern within psychology, and it’s one of the reasons the medical definition of gender dysphoria is so limited. Extending that definition to include things like “feeling bad when you’re mistreated” is, at best, a step backward.

Q: What makes a person transgender, if not dysphoria? A: An incongruence (mismatch) between their gender identity and their assigned sex category.

Q: How can someone know they're trans without dysphoria? A: Many non-dysphoric trans people cite "gender euphoria" as their main clue. Others simply describe feeling a strong desire to be a certain gender that differed from their assigned gender.

Q: Isn't that just dysphoria? A: No. As I've already pointed out, dysphoria is a diagnostic term referring specifically to profound distress. While it's certainly common for these other signs of gender incongruence to be accompanied by distress or discomfort, these are not themselves always inherently distressing experiences. The very epicurian idea that gender euphoria is simply a result of gender dysphoria is a false dichotomy based on a zero-sum understanding of pain and pleasure.

Q: Does this mean being transgender is a choice for non-dysphoric trans people? A: No. While all of us, dysphoric or otherwise, have a choice in what labels we use & which identities we claim, the process through which gender identity is formed is incredibly complex and not incredibly well understood. Non-dysphoric trans people may have less incentive to come out or transition than those of us who do experience dysphoria, but this isn't the same thing as choosing to have a transgender identity.

Q: Why would someone who’s 100% comfortable with their body transition? A: First off, most people aren’t 100% comfortable with their bodies, and there’s a wide range of experiences that exist between” complete and total comfort” and “significant distress.” Non-dysphoric trans people seek out medical transition for various reasons, including legal barriers to social transition (eg medical requirements to update ID), feelings of euphoria associated with specific traits, or simply a desire to present in a way that is more congruent with their identities.

Q: But why would non-dysphoric trans people seek out treatment for a condition they don’t have? Isn’t that like a doctor prescribing chemo drugs to someone without cancer? A: Many people- cis and trans alike- take HRT for reasons other than treatment of a disorder, including preventive care against future poor health or the potential for quality of life improvements. As of 2016, an estimated 1.67% of adult men under the age of 65 were making insurance claims to cover testosterone supplements, most of whom are cis men; the authors note that men over the age cutoff of the paper were expected to use testosterone supplements at higher rates due to age-related hypogonadism (in this case, the natural, non-disordered decrease in testosterone production cis men experience as they age). Additionally, doctors actually do prescribe chemo drugs to people without cancer fairly regularly, it’s called “off-label use.” A common example of this is Methotrexate, a chemotherapy drug which is regularly prescribed to treat noncancerous conditions like rheumatoid arthritis and ectopic pregnancy. Hormonal transition is itself considered an off-label use of HRT, regardless of whether the person transitioning is dysphoric

Q: What sources say that you don’t need dysphoria to be transgender? (Note: this list is not intended to be exhaustive) A: The American Psychiatric Association explicitly says that dysphoria is not necessary “ Not all transgender people suffer from gender dysphoria and that distinction is important to keep in mind. Gender dysphoria and/or coming out as transgender can occur at any age.” The World Health Organization's ICD-10 acknowledges the existence of non-dysphoric trans people with its description of "transsexualism" as "usually accompanied by a sense of discomfort... or inappropriateness." The American Psychological Association: “A psychological state is considered a mental disorder only if it causes significant distress or disability. Many transgender people do not experience their gender as distressing or disabling, which implies that identifying as transgender does not constitute a mental disorder.” The American Academy of Pediatrics describes gender dysphoria as a potential consequence of being trans: “ Some youths experience gender dysphoria when the incongruence between assigned sex at birth and asserted gender identity becomes so distressing that it impairs the youth in school, relationships and overall functioning... However, there is no evidence that risk for mental illness is inherently due to a gender-diverse identity.” The Canadian Paediatric Society provides this definition of Gender Dysphoria: “Describes the level of discomfort or suffering associated with the conflict that can exist between a person's assigned sex at birth and their true gender. Some transgender children experience no distress about their bodies, but others may be very uncomfortable with their assigned sex, especially at the start of puberty when their body starts to change.” The World Medical Association cites the APA definition of dysphoria: “The WMA asserts that gender incongruence is not in itself a mental disorder; however it can lead to discomfort or distress, which is referred to as gender dysphoria (DSM-5).” WPATH states that "the criteria currently listed for [Gender Dysphoria] are descriptive of many people who experience dissonance between their sex as assigned at birth and their gender identity... The DSM-5 descriptive criteria for gender dysphoria were developed to aid in diagnosis and treatment to alleviate the clinically significant distress and impairment that is frequently, though not universally, associated with transsexual and transgender conditions” (emphasis added).

Q: I was told the American Psychiatric Association isn't trustworthy, so why do you use it as a source? A: I've written a big post here analyzing criticism of the APA (and particularly, their handling of trans identities); the short version is that the APA has been very heavily criticised in the past for supporting many of the same positions truscum advocate in favour of today. While the APA & DSM aren't perfect, they aren't exactly the mess truscum claim they are either.

Q: What about brain scan research? Doesn't that prove dysphoria is required? A: No. Brain sex research in interesting, but the results are nowhere near as clear-cut as many people believe. Yes, there's been studies that have observed similarities between the brains of dysphoric binary trans people and cisgender people who share their identities. This is correlational research that can't be used to infer causation without further evidence, and researchers still aren't sure what exactly it means. There's also the problem of attempting to apply a body of research to non-dysphoric trans people that includes few, if any, results from non-dysphoric trans participants.

Q: How can someone transition without a dysphoria diagnosis? A: Depending on where you are, there may be clinics in your area that operate on an informed consent model of transition. Unlike the traditional gatekeeper model of transition, informed consent models allow anyone who is competent to make their own medical decisions to receive transition care. Note that this does not mean that they block (or should block) mentally ill people from transitioning, even those with delusional disorders; instead, this is about ensuring that a transitioning person is capable of understanding the changes to their body that transition care would lead to, and minimizing the risk of a crisis during a dangerous situation.

Q: What about John Money/David Reimer? Is this evidence that gender is not actually a construct? A: John Money was a conversion therapy advocate who believed that he could force a child to identify with the gender of his choosing, and that there was no point in someone identifying as male without a functioning penis. Nothing about this disproves the idea that our genders are constructed, though it does demonstrate that the process of gender construction is beyond human control, at least on an individual level. Some of the terms Money coined may still be in use, but his claims about being able to force children to identify as a specific gender are pretty thoroughly rejected outside of the conversion therapy crowd. Additionally, bringing up the fact that certain terms were coined by Money without recognizing that those terms are currently used in a context that otherwise rejects his views is often used as an attempt to poison the well.

Q: What does "radscum" mean? A: it's an old term for the category of rad/fem than includes what we now call "TE/RFs" and "SW/ERFs." It was still commonly used when the term "truscum" was coined to refer to post-HBS transmedicalism. In the communities I was active in, the term "truscum" caught on specifically because of how it reflected the relationship between the two groups (transmeds and radscum have a long history of co-operation, regardless of how any individual truscum today feels about that).

Q: Is it true that the person who coined the word “tucute” was a cis woman pretending to be trans? A: No, it’s not.

Q: Why did you remove my response with sources from the replies of your post? A: I didn’t.

Q: Will you promo my discourse blog? A: Sorry, no.

Q: Will you promo my fundraiser? A: Please add a link to this post as a reblog or comment instead of messaging me. About the mod:

Q: what are your pronouns? A: Ey/em (like “they” without the “th-”)

Q: Why do you call yourself "transsexual"? A: I've been using the term transsexual for myself for roughly a decade, and I refuse to give it up because some kids decided they own that word now.

Q: Do you ID as queer? A: That's one of the labels I use, yes.

Q: What other identity labels do you use? A: I'm being intentionally vague about certain aspects of my ID on this blog because it's interesting to watch what assumptions truscum make, but in general I'm neither straight nor cis & I use a variety of labels depending on the context I'm speaking in and the information I'm trying to communicate to my audience.

Q: How old are you? A: Over 30 (which is part of the reason why I stick to responding to people who interact with me first instead of seeking out bad posts to argue against)

#faq #ReadTheFAQ #op

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abcreid · 5 years

Text

His Affection (2)

Spencer Reid x OC (Original Character)

Hi guys! Finally i can post this new part of the story. Sorry for waiting for so long i had a writer block and i had no idea for all this time. And i want to thank @princessjellyfishbitch for helping me proofread this part and im so greatful she wanted to help me. Enjoy the story!

Part 1

Masterlist

3rd Day of Work

You woke up from a nightmare. You were dreaming of him, again. And it’s been only a few days since he appeared, yet again, in your mind. You can’t forget how he was. His smells, his touch, his everything. How hurt he was when he left you.

But you have to move on, Anna.

You took a shower as quickly as you could. You have to go to the salon to get your hair braided. You peered at your face in the mirror. You can do this. This is what you've wanted for months. Move away from D.C., start a new life, make new friends, and get into a new relationship. That was your plan, at least. You put your medium hoop earrings on and placed the rest of your diamond studs back into the 7 piercings you had running all the way up your ears. You were thinking about getting your tragus or rook pierced next, but that had to wait until you were less busy.

“You moved on, Anastasia. You have a new life and new friends. Be nice to your friends. Be a good person!” You ended your little pep talk with a smile, then you got dressed and walked out of your apartment building.

You drove to the nearest salon you knew of. It was a big salon that was usually filled with customers, but not this morning. It’s too early for anyone to come in to get their hair done. You entered and was greeted by the receptionist.

“Hi, Miss, what can I help you with? Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist greeted you first with a smile, but you didn’t return the gesture. It feels unfamiliar for you to be friendly with other people, especially with those you don’t know.

“Anna Harper.” You told her your name and she searched for you in the appointment book.

“Miss Harper, come with me.” The owner of the salon called you and you followed her. “Have a seat, Miss.” She patted the white leather chair, then turned to the stylist sweeping leftover hair from her last client. “Lea, please treat Miss Harper well.”

She looked back at you through the mirror and patted your shoulders. “I will leave you with her, Miss Harper.”

You replied with a curt, silent nod and the owner left you with your stylist. Part of you wanted to stop putting up a cold front, but you didn’t think it was the right time. Your stylist ran her fingers through your hair and separated the strands into three sections, expertly weaving them into the intricate style.

“You work at the FBI? That’s cool. My name is Lea, by the way.” She giggled as she tried to strike up a conversation. Your rock hard heart wasn't touched by her kindness.

You just stared at her in silence while she styled your hair. “Sorry, I just... you know trying to warm the situation,” she grinned and you remained stoic in your expression. “Oh, is that your engagement ring? Wow, congratulations, Agent Anna! You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met in my life! And who’s the lucky guy?”

You looked for a while at your silver ring with a big diamond nestled in the middle. That moment still fits perfectly in your memories. You still remember precisely how he proposed to you, with every single detail still fresh in your mind. How he surprised you by bringing along your parents, brother, and friends. It was a very beautiful moment that you’ll remember for the rest of your life. He feigned sickness while you were at the mall, causing you to rush back home, no longer caring about your trivial errands. You arrived home to find both your families gathered together in the living room and your boyfriend, Tony, nowhere in sight. But then he arrived, looking not the slightest bit ill. You looked around in confusion until the love of your life kneeled on one knee, pulled out a navy blue velvet box from his coat pocket, and opened it to reveal the most beautiful ring you had ever laid your eyes on.

The memory faded when you put together the fact that you hadn’t realized you were still wearing the ring Tony had given you six months before. Putting on your ring every day had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you hadn’t noticed you’d been doing it despite it being over for so long.

“Just braid my hair, okay? That’s none of your business,” you snapped back at her harshly, but you didn’t regret it. She inadvertently opened your wound again, and now you can’t stop thinking about Tony again.

An hour passed by when you finally reached the 6th floor of the FBI building. Today, you wore a formal burgundy-colored dress with matching heels. You made sure to bring your handbag as well as your go bag. You smoothed your fingers over the silky leather of your evening coat as the door to the elevator slid open.

“Oh My God! Look who’s coming.” Morgan’s eyes couldn’t leave your elegant figure. Your appearance stunned everyone, including the doctor who just came from the break room. “Reid, look who’s coming.” Morgan nudged his colleague and pointed at you with his eyes as you sauntered indifferently to your desk. Spencer froze as his eyes fell upon your beautiful face. His body felt warm and he felt his heart quicken as he observed your reserved, but misunderstood demeanor. Every time he saw you, he felt like life got a little bit brighter for him.

You unloaded your belongings and tried to ignore their blatant gawking. But that obviously failed when the most excitable woman on earth pops out of nowhere to greet you, thanks to JJ informing her of your presence.

“Holy shit! Anna! You’re so beautiful. That dress, that braided hair, your hoop earrings, seriously? That anklet, are those Salvatore Ferragamo heels? Are you going to a fashion show or coming in to work as an FBI agent? OMG, you just ended me right here in this boring office, Anna! Damn it! I’ve known since your first day that you were secretly a fashionista! You are my guru! Teach me your ways, oh can I know what size your shoes are?” Garcia fired question after question at you with hardly a breath in between, let alone giving you enough time to answer. Before you could reply, and before Garcia could ramble on any longer, Emily cut in with a more practical point of view.

“Are you going to wear those heels in the field? What about your boots? Your earrings are too big and that dress? You won’t be comfortable wearing that outfit out on the field today, Anna.” Emily aggravated you with her redundant lecturing.

You retaliated by aggressively snatching your go bag from your desk and thrusting it in her direction. “I have everything I need and I’ll be changing into more practical clothing before we go. At least for me, first impressions matter,” you sneered, not taking too kindly to her criticism.

“Emily, don’t scold our Garcia-approved fashion guru.” Rossi interrupted the impending argument after being attracted by the commotion.

Something caught Garcia’s eyes when you turned back to face Emily. She saw the nape of your neck and gasped in surprise. “Wait, you have a tattoo? A cross tattoo?”

You spun back around to face Garcia, once again and frowned in response. “Yes. And I read the Legal Handbook three times to make sure there were no rules that banned agents having and/or displaying tattoos.”

“Legal Handbook? You read it? I’ve never even read it. I didn’t even know it existed. Kinda like agreeing to the terms and conditions,” JJ admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I read it,” Spencer piped in to support you, the only other person who read the handbook. “I read it 10 times when I didn’t have any books to read. And she’s right, there are no rules related to tattoos. You have a very cool tattoo, Anna.” Spencer tried to make sure he evened out his breathing and tone so that he seemed nonchalant when speaking to you. He feels like there is something unusual that happens to him when it comes to you.

“Reid has found his nerd mate!” Morgan announced and playfully shoved Spencer’s shoulder towards you.

“Alright, children, we have a new case. I will brief you all on the jet. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch announced, trying to deescalate the situation. He looked at you for a few moments, like he didn’t know what to say to you. More like he was admiring your beauty. “You look so nice, Harper,” He commented, then walked back to his office. You were genuinely flattered by Hotch’s praise and smirked.

“First impressions matter, everyone,” You repeat to everyone proudly. You smiled inside because you proved them wrong today. And maybe from Spencer admiring your tattoo and sticking up for you. You shook your head to get that thought out of your head. You didn’t care for him. You wouldn’t if you could help it.

You sit in a coffee shop near the hotel you and the team were staying at for the last few days. You brought your case file, cigarettes, cell phone, and small satchel which held your money, ID card, lighter, and headphones.

You took a sip of your coffee while your mind wandered elsewhere. Your eyes scanned your case file without actually reading it. You were too preoccupied with other thoughts to absorb any information. You were listening to music to drown out the sounds surrounding you in the small cafe.

You didn’t ask anyone to accompany you, still not being comfortable with anyone on your team. It’s still only your 3rd day at the BAU, but you made progress. While out in the field, Hotch paired you with himself, and you actually managed to talk to him in a relatively cordial manner. Only about the case, of course. But it was a huge step for you.

You flicked open your lighter open and lit the end of your cigarette and took a deep breath, inhaling the strong chemicals, letting your throat and chest fill with warmth. You exhaled the smoke through your nostrils, then took another drag. You finish off that cigarette and immediately light up another. You keep going until you finished the whole box. Not yet satisfied, you pulled out another box from your bag, and continue your chain-smoking.

You spot Spencer across the street and he waves at you, making his way towards the table you were sitting at. You were shocked by his appearance and pulled out the gel headphones from your ears, putting out you half-finished cigarette into the ceramic ashtray in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked incredulously, shocked that he was awake at midnight and managed to run into you at this small coffee shop. You expected the whole team to be resting up in their hotel rooms.

“I was looking for you. I knocked on your door multiple times and you didn’t answer, and I started to think you might be out blowing off steam. Are you smoking?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response. He must've seen you exhale smoke when he walked up to you and could see the half-full ashtray with a few embers still burning from the last lit cigarette you put out. Why would he ask a question with such a glaringly obvious answer?

“Why were you looking for me? Do you need anything?” You asked him as calmly as you could because you really wanted to try to make an effort in getting along with your team.

He smiled and sat beside you. “Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you. What are you listening to? I was staring at you for 5 minutes straight, and you seemed to only be focused on smoking listening to something through your headphones.”

You stared at him with disbelief. What was he trying to do? Observing you so intently and for so long, with a reason that you couldn’t seem to come up with at the moment. “You can tell me whatever you want if you need someone to talk to. I’m here, Anna. I’m here ready to listen to all of the stories you keep bottled up inside.”

You were shocked by what he said. Many people have told you similar things, but Spencer seemed to be the only one who actually meant it.

tags: @i-m-never-the-one @chocok22 @shugarrush0101 @jason-gideon-is-my-dad, @cynbx, @literallyprentissstwin, @literallyreid, @princessjellyfishbitch, @eideticreid, @saltedfire, @everyday-imfangirling, @stories-you-wont-hear, @dontshootmespence, @yukitsubute @pandedios-carli @spencerreiddaily @spencerreidreads @spence-imagines @reid-effect @lil-loki @bloodylollipopkid @starsshines-blog @photogrxphinggg @queenofthehobos @twosaylorghosts @thatwrestlingfan91 @qu3n-elizab3th @girl-wonder-rxid @romee125 @scatchia @nomajdetective

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Criminal Minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid x oc #criminal minds x oc #abcreidpost

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thelifeoftuan · 5 years

Text

Journalism Hell

There’s a little known fact about me. Or a fact that is usually forgotten. Either way. In college, apart from my Biochemistry major and pursuit of a career in medicine, I was also a Journalism major.

We’ll backtrack a little bit. Spring 2010 of my sophomore year of college, following a meeting with my advisor within the College of Arts and Sciences for my Biochemistry degree towards the end of that semester, I sort of spun out of control into this existential crisis. Hahaha! Why, you might ask? Well, it was at that meeting that my advisor was reviewing all of my credits and told me that I was on track to graduate the following Spring. And I was like, “What?” He looked over all of my requirements and said that with some good planning, I am set to graduate the following year. And in my head, I, for some reason, started to panic. Hahaha! I was like, “Um, excuse me dude, I’m only a sophomore. I haven’t even taken the MCAT yet, let alone apply for medical school. I’m not ready to graduate.” I remember asking him what my options were, and he was like, either book it and take the MCAT two months ago and apply to medical school yesterday then saunter on over to the commencement department and get ready to apply for graduation... or, do something else. I went home and stewed. ...like stewed to the point where the stew burned. And I was like, “what the shit! I didn’t plan for this!” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, why am I complaining, right? The prospect of graduating a year early from college isn’t something to be butt-hurt about. But at that time, I was definitely not ready, mentally or emotionally. Not to mention I was nowhere near ready to really plunge into the horrid process of applying for medical school. That would have required me to get together letters of recommendation, transcripts, take the MCAT (and do somewhat well), apply for our pre-medicine committee interview (a stupid and unnecessary process, honestly, in retrospect), decide where I wanted to try to go to medical school and get those applications together... within a matter of weeks, because if memory serves me right, the application cycles started in the summer. So after I (rather unnecessarily, I will admit) agonized about this, I was like, “nah bro, we’re staying the full four years.” And it was at that time that I then embarked on my existential crisis. What the crap was I gonna do that will effectively prolong my stay in college to the appropriate four years? And it took a couple of days. I didn’t want to squander my time (or money, to be honest) doing something that wasn’t worthwhile. But I also didn’t want to over-tax myself. At first, I was like, well? I’ve always seen myself as a writer, maybe I should delve down that route. I initially thought about picking up an English major or minor. I spent hours and hours pouring over the coursework and projecting my class schedules and how that would pan out or if it would even work. And I discovered that it would if I picked up an English minor. And this department was within the College of Arts and Sciences, and so I wouldn’t have to really branch out too far from “home base.” But then I delved further into the required classes and read up on the syllabi (syllabuses? ...silly buses?) and looked up the instructors on the university online database, and review after review for course after course... they were all mostly bad with, at best, a B- average for grades, and I was like, “...I actually don’t think this is for me.” Being a literature buff was not my thing, and I think the English minor/major at my university trains students for that... which, in my opinion, was not worth my time or energy. I barely knew how to read, let alone critically analyze literature. I definitely was not going to risk something that would take shots at my already teetering GPA if I could help it, especially if it was something additional I was taking on. At that point, I would’ve rather graduated a year early and figure it out from there. So I scrapped that idea. And then it was back to the drawing board. Another several days of searching and seeking counsel... and then one day, a random thought came into my head. There was this nice building at the southern corner of the campus that was one of the newer colleges of our university, the College of Journalism. I would always walk by this building but never ventured in. One nice summer day that Spring semester of 2010, I did. And immediately, I felt sort of the same “at home” vibe I had felt all those years ago when I decided I wanted to become a pediatrician. Another little known fact. I actually started writing (for lack of a better term, honestly) before I even decided medicine was my calling. I remember in kindergarten, I had started writing and I remember my teacher reading some of my stories to my classmates. It wasn’t talent. It was a whim. Some sort of strange whim that has carried me forward throughout the years, just like how my aspiration for a career in medicine did. Within the College of Journalism was a major known as Professional Writing. I went home immediately after that day and did all the research I could on this. There was, unfortunately, no minor offered for any of the journalism majors. But the more I read about the Professional Writing track, the more and more I was sold. This major would train me and give me the skills I needed to become a more proficient writer and actually give me an avenue and motivation to continue writing as a potential career. None of that literary crap that made me despise high school English class, but stories that I would actually enjoy writing. I meticulously planned out my current coursework remaining for my Biochemistry major and overlay the required coursework for a Journalism-Professional Writing major... and it was like over-packing for a trip (another one of my wondrous qualities), borderline impractical and insane, but doable if done correctly. I asked myself, “how invested are you in this, Tuan?” I remember taking an afternoon to think about this, seeking opinions from some of my friends. And then, by the end of the day, I decided to go for it. I scheduled a meeting with an advisor at the college who, honestly and I think appropriately, questioned my sanity. I concretely remember him, one, looking at me with his eyebrows raised when I told him my background and experience (or lack thereof), and two, asking me repeatedly, “Are you sure about this?” But when I expressed my extreme interest and drive, he complied and laid out the requirements for me. I would have to take an entrance competency exam (basically a reading and writing exam). Thank goodness the foreign language requirements were the same among colleges, because I was not about to go down that route again (Spanish 3 is a story for another time...). That summer of 2010 would end up being my busiest summer. Because I picked this new major, I would have to get the required prerequisites out of the way before I could even think about starting any Journalism classes. So this required me to take two journalism classes over the summer. And I had also enrolled in a Biochemistry course that summer. So, three classes during that fateful summer of 2010. Hahaha! Not my smartest decision. But it felt like this new endeavor into the world of Journalism breathed new meaning in my life, and I felt rejuvenated and excited. Well, that feeling did not last too long. Hahaha! Mind you, yes, the entire way until I graduated college, I loved my Journalism major and classes, and it was definitely a reprieve away from my science classes and the stress of applying for medical school. But the very first class I had to take, and I will always remember the course ID to this day, was JMC 2033: Writing for Mass Media (JMC stood for Journalism and Mass Communication and was the ID used for all Journalism classes at my university). This was the introductory “weed-out” class for Journalism majors... which shocked me when my teacher, an impassioned writer and, in my opinion, rather poorly directed masters student who took pride in making this class the hardest it could ever possibly be, said to us on our first day, “If you are taking this class in the summer thinking that it was going to be easier, think again.” In my head, I was like, “oh shit.” No biochemistry professor of mine ever said that in any of my classes on the first day, and here I am, at a place I thought was the greener side of things, and there’s this crazy 20-something-year-old lady with an ego the size of the screen projected at the front of the classroom ready to skewer each and every one of us for the next 8 weeks. ...and skewer us she did. She definitely found some sick joy torturing us students in that class that summer. And I was so out of my element. I knew that I had a disadvantage and that this wasn’t something I had a true strength in. Other people in my class seemed to have read all the time and knew how to pick apart articles, had an eye for ads and design, understood the basic workings of PR and broadcasting. Me? I was the lowly writer who really only had the skills of an unpolished kindergartener. ...but I will be damned if I let my first step into the Journalism world be a misstep. So that summer, even more than my Biochemistry class, I worked my ass off more than ever before. Because it was a summer class, we crammed 16 weeks of work into 8... which was not the healthiest thing, honestly, because that required working and studying every single night, because this lady would present us with quizzes almost every single day of class. And this class was Monday through Thursday. Not to mention you had to make a C average or above in this class to be accepted into the College of Journalism (which, yes, is a given for anything, really), but as you will see from the quiz averages of this particular class, that was kinda touch and go, and I feared for my life and the life of my classmates at several points. And thus arrives the main topic of this post. Hahaha! (That took a while, right?) These quizzes we were subjected to tested absolutely everything (but truthfully, essentially nothing) about the supposed skills a journalist should have. Looking back... honestly, it was mostly hogwash, as you’ll come to see. Hahaha! This class was so bad and so hard that I ended up making daily Facebook status posts about it and then compiling them all together in a singular post titled “Lessons in Journalism Hell” posted on my Blogspot exactly 9 years ago today. I think the funniest (and frankly most appalling) thing this teacher did for this class was each morning, she would post the quiz averages of the day before on the large projector in front of the class, which I always wrote down so that I could relay how horrid this class was, and she also put the highest score and the lowest score on the projector and always, without fail, revealed to the class who made the highest score. ...if she had revealed who made the lowest score, she probably would’ve been murdered, honestly, because no one in the class liked her. And if someone made a perfect score, she would put the student’s name up there for all to see. ...it was kinda insane what this lady did. I look back on this course with such comical contempt, because I was like, “if all of my Journalism classes are going to be like this, I have made a grave mistake.” Thankfully, this was not the case. JMC 2033 is, notoriously, and especially when taught by this one particular crazy lady, is the hardest class in the college. I think what made it hard was it was an introductory course that attempted to teach all Journalism majors the basic concepts of journalism and mass communication, which included advertising, broadcasting, PR, and professional writing, and incorporated the necessities of media literacy and competence. I will say that I learned a few things from this class. But was any of it particularly useful? I mean, a good majority of our assignments and preparation for quizzes was to read or watch or listen to something that was published within a specific time window the day/night before and remember every single goddamn detail we possibly could and hope that we even read, watched, or listened to the right thing so that we could answer quiz questions the following morning. ...perhaps that only useful thing I did pick up from this class was a stronger resilience and work ethic than what I had previously. Haha! And so, without further ado, I would like to repost my Lessons in Journalism Hell on my tumblr today, to commemorate a rather miserable yet pretty laughable time in my life 9 years ago when I decided to pursue a Journalism major the summer before my Junior year of college. Each lesson is numbered and dated with a short sentence or two I devised to describe what the quiz was about, followed by the class average (and often my own personal commentary on such average). I don’t remember my own grades from these quizzes, as I didn’t write them down. It felt like it was poor form. Also, the teacher took back our quizzes after we had five seconds to review them (for some dumbass reason I will never understand), so I don’t have them in any archives of mine. But anyway, I present to you, Lessons in Journalism Hell, June 9 - July 29, 2010. June 9 | Journalism Hell Lesson #1: Copy-editing marks. A journalist MUST learn how to copy-edit using the CORRECT symbols and marks. Class avg: 57.7/100 ...HOLY CRAP! June 10 | Journalism Hell Lesson #2: Making distinctions. A journalist MUST learn how and when to use who vs. whom. Class avg: 79.6/100 June 14 | Journalism Hell Lesson #3: AP Style. A journalist MUST learn how to use AP (Associated Press) style of writing. Class avg: 63/100... and teacher said she expected great things from this quiz -.- June 15 | Journalism Hell Lesson #4: Newspapers. A journalist MUST learn how to read a newspaper--and figure out what content the teacher will quiz over. Class avg: horrendously low... T_T June 16 | Journalism Hell Lesson #5: Language Lapses. A journalist MUST learn that you feel bad NOT badly, that mobs are always angry and beatings are usually brutal, and finally, that you are usually nauseated, NOT nauseous...unless you make OTHER people want to vomit. Class avg: 97.3/100 :] June 17 | Journalism Hell Lesson #6: Newspapers Round 2. A journalist MUST learn how to read the newspaper (again), analyze it, memorize important facts, and rely on sheer gut about what the heck the teacher will ask on the quiz. Class avg: 68.2/100 ...my Buddha. -.- June 21 | Journalism Hell Lesson #7: Diversity. A journalist MUST know the difference between an oreo and a twinkie. Enough said. Class avg: 75.7/100 June 22 | Journalism Hell Lesson #8: Diversity Part 2. A journalist MUST learn how to read online news sources about blacks, Native Americans, and gays. Class avg: 43.7/100 ...OH MY SNAPS! We're getting killed by these quizzes! June 23 | Journalism Hell Lesson #9: It's anyone's guess. A journalist MUST know that if he/she WERE smarter, he/she would have made a better grade on this quiz. Class avg: 77/100 June 24 | Journalism Hell Lesson #10: Huffingtonpost.com. A journalist MUST... oh, what the hell. This quiz was completely insane and taught me nothing besides how terribly vague and untimely the quiz content was. All I learned was that huffingtonpost.com updates multiple times and the time frame we journalism students were given was within a 10-hour time span. Class avg: 58.8/100 -- I'm starting to get worried... June 29 | Journalism Hell Lesson #11: AP style round 2. A journalist MUST continue to learn how to use AP (Associated Press) style of writing. Class avg: 70/100 June 30 | Journalism Hell Lesson #12: The Week (online magazine). A journalist MUST not give up. As we are all getting tired of this, refer back to lessons 4, 6, and 10. Class avg: 71.9/100 July 1 | Journalism Hell Lesson #JUST KIDDING: There was no quiz today. WHOOPEE! July 6 | Journalism Hell Lesson #13: Us Weekly. A journalist MUST not let his/her brain melt while reading this tabloid-esque trash. Class avg: 78.1/100 July 7 | Journalism Hell Lesson #14: AP style round 3. A journalist MUST continue to learn how to use AP style of writing. Class avg: 93.2/100 ...WOOHOO! July 8 | Journalism Hell Lesson #15: Pluralizing. It's bitches and hoes! Class avg: 85.9/100 July 12 | Journalism Hell Lesson #16: AP style round 4. Class avg: 85.9/100 July 13 | Journalism Hell Lesson #17: AP style round 5. Class avg. 82.1/100 July 15 | Journalism Hell Lesson #18: NPR. A journalist MUST listen to 20 stories of Morning Edition on NPR (National Public Radio) and remember all the details. Class avg. 76.4/100 July 19 | Journalism Hell Lesson #19: NBC Nightly News @ 5:30 p.m. A journalist MUST watch the 5:30 p.m. programming of NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams. Class avg. 89.3/100 July 20 | Journalism Hell Lesson #20: AP style round 6. Class avg. 85.7/100 July 21 | Journalism Hell Lesson #21: Advertising Age (AdAge.com). A journalist MUST be familiar with AdAge.com. Class avg. 70.9/100 ...and we were doing so well. -.- July 22 | Journalism Hell Lesson #22: PR Newswire (prnewswire.com). A journalist MUST be familiar with a PR tool website. Class avg. 72.9/100 July 26 | Journalism Hell Lesson #23: ESPN.com. A journalist MUST ...seriously?! This is by far the stupidest thing I've studied. Class avg. 75.4/100 July 27 | Journalism Hell Lesson #24: The First Amendment. A journalist MUST memorize the First Amendment... word for word. Class avg. 81.5/100. Awesomeness! July 28 | Journalism Hell Lesson #25: TMZ.com. A journalist MUST read more trash. Ugh. Class avg. 68.6/100. ...GEEZ! July 29 | Journalism Hell Lesson #26: Gawker.com. And so, the last lesson in Journalism Hell before the shit hits the fan. A journalist MUST read even MORE trash. -.- Class avg. 71.2/100 Hahaha! There you have it. Needless to say, I got through this class with an A (thank Buddha. I honestly would have been a little upset if the decision to pick up a second major in college brought down my GPA and further hurt my chances of getting into medical school). My teacher called out my name a number of times because I had made the highest grade on a quiz, and I think my name showed up on the board twice because I had made a perfect score on two quizzes. Each time, I just sunk into my seat and avoided eye contact. I definitely did not take these instances as accolades, because it made me feel really bad because the class averages were so low, and my classmates honestly were not having it with this lady, so I definitely did not appreciate her putting me on the spot. But regardless, I persevered and left JMC 2033 in the rear-view mirror as I started my actual Professional Writing classes the following fall semester. It gave me a giggle to go through this post again. Some comical memories of a pretty grueling summer, for sure, but productive and successful nonetheless. In the end, I definitely enjoyed my classes at the Journalism college, and it was definitely a decision that I did not regret. Anyway, just thought I’d trek through memory lane for a bit on this late night. Till next time. :]

#life of tuan #journalism #professional writing #lessons in journalism hell

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frenchpan · 6 years

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on turning 27.

(note: okay. so today is sep 4, which means it is past my birthday by 5 days already, and i had intended to write this on aug 29, but then again when have i ever done anything actually on time as intended?)

27. i thought i would feel older, wiser. i thought i would know more, be a more polished, solid version of myself. i was certain that by 27 i would at least be more sure of myself. i thought i would have a better understanding of the world and how things work. i thought id be certain of what i want out of this life. i thought there would be less question marks. but i also thought that by 27 i would have a house, a husband, maybe a pet. it's weird when the picture you painted for yourself way back when seem so odd and foreign to your reality now and your current wants. its like, how could i have ever imagined that life for myself in the first place? now, i don’t know if i ever want to own a house, could not even picture myself in a marriage or with a partner. (but yeah i do still want a pet though so i guess i was right about one thing.)

i think a lot of the anxiety that comes with getting older (and especially the queasiness tied with approaching 30) is from comparing the roadmap i had for myself (though constructed by a younger self who was poorly misinformed and lacking insight) which the idea i had projected for myself at 30, versus my reality as it stands right now. it’s disappointing to realize that the two don’t match up. i’m nowhere near where i thought i would be. it’d hard not to feel like i’m falling behind significantly and lacking.

how do we get rid of this baggage? how do you let go of long-held ideas and expectations of yourself and lay them to rest? how do we be honest and admit that previously held beliefs are now outdated? how do we say goodbye and depart from versions of ourselves we no longer acknowledge as “true”, so that we can become more honest, more forgiving, more authentic versions of ourselves?

because this year i’ve changed a lot. my attitudes. my beliefs. what makes me angry. what drives me. how i want to change the world. i realized there were a lot of things i was wrong about. i keep thinking about power and privilege and change. i thought a lot about mental health and wellness - and what "wellness" and "good mental health" really means. i learned that too much introspection is perhaps not good.

this past year, being 26, was the first time ever i felt like i’ve truly “grown up”. it’s sad, kinda. growing up. realizing things. accepting some harsh truths about the world we live in. this year i became more aware about the injustices of the world and the need for systemic change. this year i learned that what matters is money and wealth and power and who has it. this year i became angry and bitter and disillusioned, because power (and who has it) controls influence and i often felt squashed by it, silenced by it, helpless by it. i hate it. i am too young to be cynical and jaded. i’ve also been recognizing my own shortcomings: too idealistic but no motivation, too nervous, too high strung, focus too much on details, obsessive perfectionism, neurotic to an extreme, critical of everything, inability to follow through (on anything, really).

this year i’ve also been able to let go of old grudges i’ve held on for so long. yes, things at home were hard and kinda fucked me up, and yes, depression and disordered eating were also extremely difficult things to get through, but okay, here we are now and i cannot keep blaming these things as what’s been weighing me down and holding me back. at some point, trauma and sadness and rocky past aside, you gotta realize the only person that can help you is you. and at some point, you become the person who is holding you back.

it hasn’t been an easy year. it passed by too fast. too much work, too little play. how does the saying go - the days are long but the years are short? i felt that. but this year i had the joy of meeting and knowing some very wonderful, kind, thoughtful, funny people and for that i am truly grateful. something i've read this year that stuck with me that I constantly think about: "I really want to say that everyone in the world is lonely and everyone is sad, and if we know that everyone is suffering and lonely, I hope we can create an environment where we can ask for help, and say things are hard when they're hard, and say that we miss someone when we miss them."

i’ve gotten better at showing vulnerability and letting other people know when i’m struggling, i think. i’ve been more vocal and sharing more. i’ve been trying to learn to deal with mine. i learned that real growth requires an uncomfortable level of honesty with myself. it’s hard, i’m still working on it. what I've seen and learned is that each person carries pain. how do we let old and new wounds heal and have the hurt be contained, but not be consumed by the pain? how do we make it through long days when there are storms raging within? when will all the anxiety and sadness pass? the answer is never, probably. which makes it all the more important to be kind and take care of one another, i think.

the most important lesson i learned recently and something i keep circling back to: humility. it’s funny cause when i graduated from university i felt like i’ve grown a lot and learned a lot from school. but now i realize i don’t know shit. really. like, holy shit i don’t know anything. i have no clue what i’m doing. i really have no idea. (but perhaps more importantly, i realized that no one else knows shit, either. so maybe i’ll do okay. things will be okay.) it’s incredibly humbling to realize this truth.

anyway. a final thought. i saw this post on twitter that i found particularly inspiring:

your entire life can really change in a year. you just gotta believe in yourself, and love yourself enough to know you deserve more, be brave enough to demand more, and be disciplined enough to actually work for more. as soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.

so. what i know is this: there is still PLENTY of room for growth. who i am today, at 27, is not going to be who i am next year, in 5 years, in 10 years. i am forever changing, ever evolving. and this truth is enlightening and empowering - because this means there is still much more to learn, to experience, to come, to grow into.

i really am going to be okay.

#personal

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remynuma · 5 years

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Apple's TV strategy: a closer look at an emerging theory

Apple is only a few months away from releasing the first of its scripted original programming, the final step in an endeavor that is costing the company at least $1 billion per year and will add more scripted programming to a crowded landscape.

Even so, observers are divided about Apple's strategy and distribution method. The most popular theory is that Apple's programming will be available as a subscription service, at some unspecified price, and possibly bundled with other Apple subscriptions. This is by far the most discussed by analysts, the entertainment and technology press, and commentators. Others have argued that Apple will offer a free service to boost Apple TV hardware sales. Both of these theories suggest Apple can either increase its service revenue or offer free content to strengthen its hardware ecosystem.

Recently, a different theory has emerged, arguing that it's possible for Apple to increase its service revenue, while also offering its original programming for free. By offering free programming, Apple will encourage the users of its 1.4 billion active devices to use its TV platform by default, then purchase more subscriptions with Apple. If that works, Apple will increase its overall television service revenue without competing in a brutal SVOD landscape, and increase Apple TV hardware sales at the same time. Those are two large and unique sources of growth.

This theory has not yet reached a critical mass. The best source I could read was a CNBC article which provides an outline of the idea with quotes from anonymous Apple sources. The Information publishes rumors that suggest either a paid or free service. Media analyst Rich Greenfield (follow him on Twitter) has written a blog post, but it's only available to corporate clients. In my view, it's the strategy that's most likely to succeed, so I've written my own basic analysis.

This report explains why the most established theories don't add up, how a better model would work, and what that means for Apple and the industry.

This report is also available on LinkedIn.

The established theories, and why they don't sound right

1. Apple's originals will be available for a subscription fee (the service revenue theory)

Tim Cook is clearly interested in building service revenue, and given the success of Netflix and Amazon Prime, the idea that Apple would join the market with a similar television subscription service seems to makes sense. The theory goes that Apple's originals will be available as part of an SVOD service, where customers pay a recurring fee. The service will either be available on its own or bundled with other Apple media services like Apple Music, maybe iCloud storage and/or its rumored news and games services. Apple creates a media-focused competitor to Prime, directly increasing its service revenue.

The problem is that Apple is joining the market late. Netflix has 137 million subscribers and feels confident enough that it can charge more without a significant number of them leaving. Prime is at 100 million globally, with a rumored 26 million US subscribers watching video. Hulu's at 23 million and only operates in the US, but there's a Hulu in several crucial markets (e.g. the UK's Now TV, which promotes itself as an on-demand service, and Australia's Stan), and niche competitors as well. Apple was late to music streaming and is doing well, but Spotify only owned a small market in 2015. The streaming video market is already much larger.

Even if that weren't an issue, Apple's investment looks different to the dominant SVOD services. First, at the rumored $1 billion per year, Apple is investing much less in original productions than its competitors. Netflix spends $13 billion, Amazon spends $5 billion, and Hulu spends more than $2.5 billion. There are rumors that Apple's investment is higher than $1 billion, and given the deals they're signing with everyone from Justin Lin to A24, it probably is. But consider the projects that Apple has confirmed so far:

Apple will have far fewer titles to offer than its competitors. The company is announcing ~1-3 projects per month, so we can assume a similar release schedule. That puts Apple's schedule in the same league as Prime and Hulu for original series, but nowhere near Netflix. It also won't have any of the original productions that are already available on all three services. In Netflix's case, that's 700+ series and 200+ movies, while Prime and Hulu have 100+ original titles to offer in total.

At launch, the originals issue is more complicated. Apple won't want to release any of its original series simultaneously, because doing so would waste months of free publicity and promotion for each series. With only one original title to offer (Amazing Stories started shooting in December and the Witherspoon/Aniston project joined a few weeks later, so it will probably be one of those), it's hard to imagine subscribers choosing to take up a $10ish subscription, or a much more expensive Apple bundle.

Netflix, Prime, and Hulu all started with one original series, but they boosted the extensive libraries of acquired content that each service has offered since its inception. If Apple had a large library to debut with its service, then the lack of originals would matter less, but Apple hasn't acquired a studio or made a deal to distribute any movies or television series that have already premiered elsewhere. There's nothing to indicate that they're on the verge of taking those steps.

I can't see a pathway where Apple only offers its original programming in a paid service and/or bundle. It's possible that Apple will offer additional benefits to subscribers of an 'Apple Prime,' like 4K streaming or the ability to watch every episode at once, but that's a messy product strategy.

2. Apple's originals will be free (the unit sales theory)

Apple wants to own the living room, and Apple TV sales are crucial in achieving that goal. Recent data suggests that Apple is doing well with 4K TV owners, but in the overall market, Apple lags behind products from Roku, Chromecast, and Amazon. In order to increase its share, Apple can either launch new products (which they're apparently doing) and/or invest in advertising. One great way to advertise is with exclusive programming.

The idea is that Apple would release its originals for free through the Apple TV app, which is already available on iPhone, iPad and the Apple TV. Viewers can watch the show on their personal iOS devices, but if they want to see them on a big screen, they'll need the Apple TV hardware. As each original is released, Apple gets another opportunity to tell a large, global viewing audience that the Apple TV is the only place to enjoy its buzzy new shows, and an increase in hardware sales should follow.

A free service would eliminate budget and content acquisition issues. Just about everyone with an iOS device has an Apple ID, so getting new users into the TV app on iOS won't require a large content library. As for purchasing an Apple TV, the more originals, the better the chance that the strategy works, but Apple will be releasing shows frequently enough that consumers could reasonably feel like the investment is worthwhile.

This plan is logical, but incomplete. First, $1 billion+ is a lot of money to spend to advertise one device in Apple's ecosystem. Apple spent $1.8 billion total on advertising in 2015, and while that number will have grown, the iPhone is likely draining most of that budget. Second, while AirPlay is not a substitution for the Apple TV, if Apple's goals with television were only to increase hardware sales, it would be counterintuitive to launch AirPlay on a range of other devices, which Apple did three weeks ago. Finally, Cook says Apple is thinking about television as a service, which is incompatible with this approach.

A better strategy: increase overall service revenue with free original programming

The conventional wisdom is that Apple must charge a subscription fee for its original programming in order to increase its service revenue. But as the video streaming market grows, Apple has an opportunity to take a cut from users' subscriptions to many third-party video services. That's a better strategy than joining the SVOD market because it's more closely aligned with Apple's long-term goals.

Apple already earns subscription revenue from TV services

Apple currently offers the ability to purchase subscriptions to TV services via in-app purchases on the App Store. The list of services includes Hulu, Prime Video, HBO, Showtime, Starz, ESPN+, CBS All Access, AMC Premiere, and Fox Nation, along with cable bundles like Fubo, the ad-free version of YouTube, and a raft of niche TV products. Netflix stopped offering in-app subscriptions this month, but Apple is still collecting revenue from existing users there, too. For each service, Apple says it takes 30% of the subscription price in the first year, and 15% thereafter, but for the major services, it's more likely that Apple is simply taking 15% from the beginning.

It's impossible to say how much revenue Apple is making from video subscriptions, except that it's a driver of their $10.88 billion in service revenue last quarter. But for the sake of argument, let's do some very rough back-of-the-envelope math. If you use current subscriber numbers for six large standalone services on the App Store, assume that about 25% of those subscribers are doing so through Apple, then take a 15% cut from the average subscription price, you end up with a lot of money:

Again, this is a rough analysis. I'm generously assuming, for example, that Netflix sells all three plans in equal proportions, and that 25% of users across all six services have subscribed through Apple. Those assumptions are almost certainly wrong. I'm including the numbers here merely to give you a sense of how quickly that 15% cut adds up. In this scenario, Apple's earning approximately $0.5 billion in annual revenue, in the U.S. market, excluding heavy-hitters like YouTube and ESPN. The global figure, including all services, will easily add up to over $1 billion.

Even with that wide range of services and an enormous user base, Apple remains just one of many companies offering users subscriptions. Here's the range of purchase methods for the same six services:

Every time a user purchases a subscription through one of the non-Apple platforms shown above, Apple is missing out on service revenue. At a hypothetical $1 billion+ in annual revenue for 25% of all users, Apple stands to earn billions more depending on its market penetration. To be clear, no matter what Apple does to increase its subscription revenue, it will struggle to reach users in the Google or Amazon ecosystems. But that still leaves a lot of people who either don't subscribe to these services now or purchased them through a provider like Hulu or DirecTV Now.

The SVOD market is about to grow dramatically

Apple's television service revenue opportunity is about to get significantly larger. Disney and Warner will launch fully-fledged global SVOD products by the end of the year. NBCUniversal is still married to cable, but it will offer a direct-to-consumer option in the US and Europe by the end of next year. AMC Premiere requires cable, but its parent company has experience with niche SVOD services. And both Viacom and Discovery are considering launching their own offerings. Put it all together with the existing range of services, and you get a crowded US entertainment landscape:

If Disney, Warner, and NBC are all serious about competing with Netflix, and assuming they agree to a 15% cut from Apple, then Apple's global television service revenue will skyrocket. It's likely already at over $1 billion per year, so the potential earnings from existing SVOD subscribers are worth fighting for.

Remember that there are also 93.8 million homes in the U.S. and 69.2 million homes in Europe with a traditional cable television subscription. When the cable bundle crumbles, those subscribers will still want a way to watch movies and television. They'll add more services to fill the void.

In short, Apple's revenue opportunity is enormous.

Apple is building a TV supermarket

Apple can take further advantage of the impending TV landscape by making it as easy as possible for its users to sign up for more subscriptions. That's exactly what it's doing with the Apple TV app.

The Apple TV app already offers a compelling all-in-one experience. The app allows users to find and track movies, TV series, and sports across all of the major SVOD, cable, and free video apps available on iOS and Apple TV, except Netflix. Apple provides curated recommendations to help users discover new shows across those services. In the clearest indication yet of Apple's originals strategy, it is also the home of Carpool Karaoke, an unscripted series which moved from Apple Music after its first season.

The TV app is widely available. It's preinstalled on every iPhone, iPad and Apple TV running iOS 10 and up in ten countries. Apple doesn't say how many users have the app installed, but they serve 1.4 billion active devices, 900 million of which are iPhones. Even when making conservative guesses about the number of active iPads and Apple TVs, iOS adoption rates, and the number of users in those territories (let's call it 30%), you end up with a ballpark of 300 million devices. Apple has a strong start in television streaming.

Apple also has stronger relationships with its partners than similar products. Its most direct competitor is Amazon Channels, which offers subscriptions and playback directly in its Prime Video apps. Apple's advantage is that it integrates recommendations from Hulu, cable services, and a wide range of free apps, including the major free networks in key markets, but that advantage will dissipate as Amazon continues to pursue its strategy. Meanwhile, Google also offers in-app purchases through its app store, but is yet to offer an integrated TV experience. It's stuck in cable land with YouTube TV, which performs well with users looking for a cheaper live TV package, but is hovering around 1 million subscribers.

The future of the Apple TV app

For Apple's TV aggregator to work in the long run, it needs to persuade new partners that integrating with the TV app will grow their businesses. In particular, Apple needs to show Disney, Warner, and NBCU that it's providing value in exchange for a 15% cut from every subscription. Apple's best case is that it promotes programming from a wide variety of sources, then offers a simple way to subscribe to them. Most Apple TV app users already have credit card information stored with Apple, so signing up for a new subscription takes less than 30 seconds. Convincing the studios is a big challenge, and I wouldn't be surprised to see at least one of the major services circumvent Apple's business model. But Apple has a compelling product to offer its partners, all of which are looking for ways to reach a large subscriber base quickly.

In the current iteration of the app, adding a subscription for a video service is somewhat indirect. Users select an episode, leave the TV app, download the third-party app, sign up for an account, confirm a subscription with Apple, then use the third-party app's menu to select the episode again. In total, it's a nine step process.

Apple can reduce that complexity by:

eliminating the need to purchase a subscription within the third-party app

integrating video playback into the TV app.

Ideally, users should only need to find an episode, select the service, confirm the price, then start watching. That's a much quicker process to follow:

Reducing the friction between selecting an episode and watching it will encourage more users to subscribe to more services.

In addition to integrated subscriptions and playback, Apple has a range of options to improve the TV app experience:

Overall ease of use: The TV app's ability to tracks programming across many sources also makes it more complex. Users will often find that a series is available on several services, each with a different price point. Some shows are only available with cable, some can only be purchased through iTunes. Apple's deal with Amazon is also confusing: many shows appear to be available on Prime Video, but only with an add-on that can't be purchased with Apple. All of these concessions make a platform like Netflix the simpler and cheaper option for many, and that's a huge threat to Apple's strategy. Apple needs to fix this to thrive.

Mac support: the TV app doesn't work on macOS, a platform that millions of SVOD subscribers use to watch videos. With no native apps for Mac from any of the services, solving this problem will take years. Apple can either aggressively pursue native app development once it launches Marzipan or give up and go to the web.

Personalized recommendations: a job for John Giannandrea. A recommendation algorithm would help Apple target new shows to users just like Netflix does. Apple has already implemented a similar feature with its weekly Apple Music mixes, so it's likely developing a similar feature for TV.

Bundled subscriptions: Apple is participating in the downfall of the cable bundle, but consumers still want ways to pay less for a wide range of programming. Apple could work with TV services to offer discounted bundles. That proposal is particularly likely to appeal to companies like AMC and Starz, which don't have the same content volume and marketing budgets as the major studios.

Cross-service autoplay: if Apple can convince third-party services to allow playback within the TV app, then it would also have the ability to automatically play content from different services at the conclusion of a movie/show. That would help TV services attract and retain users who are unfamiliar with their content.

Free programming: the major services all provide free trials to new customers, but Apple could also offer selected episodes from third-party services for free. Combined with cross-service autoplay, this feature would be a powerful aid for services looking to attract new users.

Some of the proposed new features above, like tighter integration of subscriptions and free programming, should be reasonably easy to pull off, and recent reporting suggests that Apple is already working with the major services on that move.

Integrated playback and/or cross-service autoplay are much bigger asks. There is some precedent: cable viewers and users of streaming platforms like Hulu and Amazon Channels can view programming from HBO, Showtime, and/or Starz directly within those platforms' apps and alongside other content. For example, a Prime user with Showtime can watch Homeland within the Prime app, then see a recommendation for Amazon's Jack Ryan. But persuading the studios to do the same, especially when they are all investing billions of dollars into streaming technology and content recommendation algorithms, is going to be a much more difficult task.

Apple will benefit from implementing any one of the features suggested above, and its best argument in persuading partners to accept the changes is also the TV app's biggest weakness: Netflix will not be part of it. Netflix's lack of participation has been a big problem for user adoption so far, and will be a big drag on revenue in the future. But Apple can tell Netflix's competitors that by including their service in the TV app, Apple will give users a better selection of programming than Netflix ever can, encouraging users to subscribe to Netflix less frequently or abandon it.

To be clear, I don't think Apple has an objection to Netflix's success. In the revenue analysis above, Apple already takes hundreds of millions of dollars from Netflix subscribers who signed up before it stopped offering in-app purchases. Re-integrating with Apple's subscriptions platform would improve that figure. Nonetheless, without Netflix's participation, Apple will find it easier to persuade competitors to get on board.

Original programming is the supermarket's loss-leader

With integrated subscriptions and the new features discussed above, Apple is building an impressive TV supermarket. The next step is to get more users to walk through the front door. That's where original programming comes in.

You've already read a lot about Apple's talent deals and acquisitions (most recently, a television deal with Jason Katims and a new Sofia Coppola movie starring Bill Murray and Rashida Jones), but it's worth summarizing Apple's steps so far to see where it's headed:

Experienced executives: Apple hired Jamie Erlicht and Zack Van Amburg, two seasoned development execs previously responsible for Breaking Bad and The Crown, instead of handing new responsibilities to its current team.

A-list talent: Apple has acquired projects from Steven Spielberg, Reece Witherspoon, Damien Chazelle, Oprah Winfrey, and Kevin Durant, some of whom are making their television debuts. It's also bringing stars like Jennifer Aniston and Steve Carell back to television for the first time in over a decade.

Global development: Apple hired Morgan Wandell last year to oversee its international efforts, and that's culminated in deals to develop programming from India, Japan/Korea, France, and Ireland.

Broad and family-friendly programming: Apple wants "high-quality shows with stars and broad appeal, but it doesn’t want gratuitous sex, profanity or violence." In other words, expensive NBC. That might sound like an insult to some, but NBC was the highest-rated network in America last year.

Those moves all point to programming that will attract a wide and global audience. By offering originals that can be watched by anybody, Apple gets the best possible opportunity to persuade users to start with the TV app ahead of any other service. This isn't because of some cultural aversion to adult themes (Apple Music offers a ton of uncensored content to paid subscribers) but it doesn't make sense to focus on the same type of programming that airs on HBO when you're pushing shows to 300 million devices. Apple's partnerships with HBO and other third-party services ensure it has edgier content for viewers who want it.

The distribution method is already clear. As mentioned above, Apple releases new episodes of Carpool Karaoke every Friday on the Apple TV app. Apple sends push notifications to TV app users to alert them about new episodes, which are available within the app itself. The show is free to watch, as long as you have an Apple ID. Episodes are ad-free and available in up to 4K resolution. Apple might change some of those variables when it launches its scripted programming, but Carpool is a solid demonstration of the basics.

Original programming is the final piece of the puzzle in Apple's overall strategy:

With four big incentives to use the service and a goal to make the TV app the default viewing experience for users in its ecosystem, Apple will hope for two outcomes: more service profit, and more Apple TV unit sales.

Outcome #1: Apple increases service profit

Apple can expect to increase its service profit, primarily because it will continue to take a substantial cut from subscriptions. It won't deal with the same challenges as SVOD providers, who have higher costs and more competition.

1. Increase service revenue

Apple's quest for service revenue leads many to believe that Apple's originals won't be free, but the two concepts aren't mutually exclusive. By taking a 15% cut from every subscription (even a lower cut would suffice), and encouraging users to take up more services when new companies enter the market, Apple can expect to see its overall service revenue rise.

There's too many variables to make an informed estimate of Apple's potential earnings, but consider Apple's position on a per user basis:

In this hypothetical, where User A takes just one major service consistently and samples two lower-priced services throughout the year, Apple makes more revenue than those two. That's a great outcome for a company that isn't directly competing in the SVOD landscape.

2. Avoid SVOD challenges

Service X may take the highest amount of revenue in the scenario above, but it also has the highest costs. In fact, any major service competing for paid viewers will need to spend invest more than Apple to survive. In the existing landscape, Netflix, Prime, and Hulu are spending a combined $20.5 billion per year on content, and that's before you consider Disney, Warner, and NBCU. Apple's services profit will increase not just because it's taking a cut from TV companies, but because it's not spending as much as they will.

Even if all of the services can afford to invest in programming, they're going to compete in what will start out as an enormous field. Apple is wisely choosing not to become yet another competitor in that landscape:

As a subscription competitor, Apple would spend more and make less, all because it went after the same growth that Netflix has already achieved. As a subscription platform, it takes unique advantage of its strong ecosystem, and sets itself up to survive even when other streaming services fail.

Finally, by staying out of the SVOD business, Apple won't be subject to the same revenue fluctuations that TV companies will. As more services launch, many users will switch between services to keep their budgets consistent. Returning to the revenue diagram above, when User A drops Service Y in favour of Service Z, it's a major problem for Service Y, which needs revenue to stay in business. Since Apple takes revenue from Service Y and Service Z, it takes a minor hit in Month 3, but it collects either way.

Outcome #2: Apple strengthens Apple TV unit sales

Apple's TV app is likely to remain available exclusively on the Apple TV. It still makes a lot of strategic sense to offer high-budget and highly-anticipated entertainment on your own platforms, and Apple can expect to see a rise in Apple TV hardware sales by making that programming exclusive. It would also be impossible for Apple to offer features like integrated subscriptions and episode tracking on any other platform.

To a lesser extent, originals will boost the entire Apple hardware ecosystem. iOS users may not subscribe to other platforms or buy an Apple TV, but they're still getting a sizable collection of free exclusive programming. That gives them another reason to stick with Apple, and Android users a small incentive to switch. Again, Apple's challenge is to find a way to bring the TV app to the Mac, but iPhone, iPad, and Apple TV sales will all be aided by this approach.

Conclusion

How do you get rich in a gold rush? You sell pickaxes. Netflix, the film studios, and all their niche competitors can try and strike it big, but if Apple is able to carry out the ambitious strategy that's detailed in this report, it has the potential not only to fulfill its service revenue mandate, but establish itself as a powerful gatekeeper in the TV market. That's the best possible outcome for Cupertino.

If you would like to talk further about this piece or my career, please get in touch on LinkedIn or Twitter. You can also find previous reports on LinkedIn or remynuma.com.

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salfordelim · 4 years

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Neil’s Reflection

Little by little things are going back to normal. Except it’s not really normal is it? On Saturday I was queuing down the street for fish and chips before heading out for a socially distanced meting with my parents in a nearby park. There was a guy behind me who clearly had spatial awareness problems. He was nowhere near his mark on the street. I did that most British of thing – first I casually glanced behind me at him, then I looked at him purposefully, but still he was getting closer and closer. So then I coughed in the hope that fear might bring distance! It didn’t. There was a guy who clearly hasn’t got the message about the new normal.

Things are opening up. This week we will find out what it will be like when the restaurants and pubs open. We might be able to get a little closer to each other, but we might have to leave our names and contact details, get used to using an app to place our orders. It’ll be us getting back to normal. Except it won’t be.

Last week I gave three 3 hours of my life that I’ll never get back again to two seminars around writing risk assessment policies for the time we can reopen church for worship. It was helpful in terms of me writing out the policies but reminded me that getting back to normal church has nothing to do with the building.

For us, is it normal church if you can’t sing? Or if you can’t see each other smile, because you have to wear masks? Or if you can’t greet one another properly? Or if you have to keep your distance? Or if you have to stay within your household ‘bubbles’? Or if those who need to keep shielding can’t come? Or if you can’t pray privately with each other?

You can be in church and be far from being church.

This week Steve will be preaching from Acts 7. It’s a long story about how God had always been at work away from the Temple. Stephen, the man who had been asked to oversee the distribution to the widows, had the opportunity to explain what was always true: God is no longer tied to a place, but is at work in some of the last places you might have expected.

During this time I am reminding myself to be less concerned about being in church and more about being church. You might have read about the church in Newquay that had a drive-in service this week. I’m pleased they were able to do it, and the media picked up the story, but I don’t think us sitting in a car park in our fiestas is what it means to be church.

We are not in normal days, but God is still at work. As we gather from our scattered places, God can still speak. As we call one another and catch up, we can minister to one another. As you remember to pray for the church, you continue to build the community. As you keep your promises, and are inspired by those of others, you create a new future that will last well beyond this new normal!

The commitments we made on Sunday

After the sermon on Sunday, we gave each other the chance to offer our own commitments to one another.

These are some of the things that we said. If we keep these promises, we will be building church.

I commit to love you like my family – with no favourites, and no inner and outer circle.

Dear Lord, I promise to pray more every day.

I commit to being more alert to God`s leading and to listen well.

I promise to love truth, love and mercy.

I commit to seek to understand others point of view

We promise to serve and support in any way you need us to.

I promise to listen and help wherever I can.

To see people past my personal prejudices and see them as a people worthy of the love and grace of Jesus.

I promise to listen well and not be so sensitive

Our promise is to love even when we don’t feel like it, to be humble and take criticism without offence. To hear the message behind the words and actions.

I pray that I’ll always be full of the Spirit of God and walk in love towards one another.

I will listen to you and not judge and will prayerfully support you with the leading of the Holy Spirit and wisdom.

I promise to choose to listen to love and not fear.

I promise to be alert to any injustice and seek to address it.

I commit to always thinking the best of people to not make assumptions and be slow to take offence.

I commit to speaking out when I see a problem or injustice and not just keeping quiet out of fear of making waves or because it doesn’t directly affect me.

I commit to be open to change.

I promise to pray for us all to know the power of the Spirit in our lives and we will all know God’s wisdom so we can all grow in faith and love

To remember that Jesus died for everyone I come into contact with

To be more open to other ideas and points of view

I commit to asking the Lord to fill me with the Spirit, grant me wisdom and a kind heart and be a good member of the Elim family.

To be gracious, Spirit-filled and Wise! what other goals do I need before these?

Interview

This week’s interview is with Jill. We talked together about prophecy, how she feels God speaking to her, and how that has made a difference in her own life.

Connecting

1. Our Gatherings

Sunday Gathering

The link to this Sunday’s Gathering is here:

https://us04web.zoom.us/j/836810848

Meeting ID: 836 810 848

Midweek Gatherings

This week we have 2 prayer meetings during the week:

On Wednesday between 1-2pm we offer prayer ministry.

You may feel anxious and just need someone to pray for God’s peace over you. You may be ill or be concerned about someone who is sick; we can pray with you for God’s healing. You may feel low or confused; we can pray with you to know God’s joy and guidance in these strange days. Whatever your reason, we would love to pray with you and for you.

Meeting link: https://zoom.us/j/91853590251?pwd=ZnFPWkNWOTZoK3p4eTgxY0Zxc3ZwQT09

On Friday 10.30-12.00 there is a prayer meeting that doesn’t need Zoom! We use Whatsapp and it works great. If you want more information contact Corinne Baines or Gill Oldham or Neil and they’ll make sure you are able to connect.

Small Groups

Christians have known for centuries that one of the main ways to keep growing as a Jesus-follower is to commit to being part of a small group. They create contexts where we can change. Many of you are already part of these groups, but if you aren’t, this week is a great time to begin.

On Thursday at 7.45pm Neil will be leading an evening for those in groups, and those who are thinking about it: Small Groups that Work: How to get the best from One Another. Come along and discover what could be possible.

The link is here: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/998857193

Meeting ID: 998 857 193

From 9 July there will be a new group on Thursdays – Building Foundations. It’s important that you feel confident in knowing how to understand and explain the Christian faith to others. But equally, it is vital that you grow in knowing how to pray and to hear from God. This course will help you do both. You might have been a Christian for years, but deep down you are concerned that there are things you still haven’t got your head around. Or you might be fairly new on this road. This course is for you. Led by Charlie, it will explore all that is involved in ensuring that your life as a follower of Jesus is based on really strong foundations. Let us know if you would be interesting in joining that group.

2. Stay Connected

‘Virtual Coffee Morning’ – Wednesday 10.30-11.30am

Since closing we’ve missed chatting to people and we know some of you have missed popping in for a brew and a catch up too. So, whilst it’s not as good as the real thing, we thought we would try meeting up online instead. So, grab yourself a brew and join us. There may even be games and live music!

Meeting link: https://zoom.us/j/94930624852?pwd=dlI0SnhwY3RaNnUrUGpSMTkrWm5hZz09

3. Alpha

There are hundreds of thousands of people who are really glad that they joined an Alpha Course. It gave them a chance to understand the person and teaching of Jesus in a relaxed and warm atmosphere. We have started ‘The Virtual Vine Alpha Course’ on Wednesdays 2.30-4pm

The Alpha Course is a great opportunity to explore the bigger questions of life and faith such as ‘Is there more than this?’, ‘Who is Jesus?’ and ‘Does God guide us?’. No question is ‘out of bounds’ and everyone is welcome to join us without pressure.

Meeting link: https://zoom.us/j/92458850833?pwd=UmZXUEJOTi9ZeEc3RG5KZDJaS0Rqdz09

If in doubt

All the links to the meetings are in ChurchSuite and on the ‘Calendar’ section of our church website: http://www.salfordelimchurch.org/events/

4. You’re not alone

If you need prayer, or need to talk, don’t hesitate to contact folks in your WhatsApp group, or Neil – his number is 07771 558058.

Links and Resources

1. Children’s Resources

Morag and Ian have out together a couple of films for children at different ages. Having said that, whatever your age you might want to take a look!

But if you have children that fall into these groups, I know that they will really value your feedback.

You can watch them here: http://www.salfordelimchurch.org/kids-resources-acts-68-81/

2. This made me remember and smile

If you were with us at the Weekend away at Cefn Lea, you might remember the water chute! I saw this and it made me smile – we have a long way to go to be as good as these guys: https://www.facebook.com/cvmNorth/videos/650535282198585/UzpfSTU4MjgxNTM3MzoxMDE2Mzc0OTU0MjA2NTM3NA/

3. This comment made me laugh

I was chatting to someone in church and asking how they were. Their answer was ‘I am wishing I’d married a hairdresser!’.

I’m guessing they are not the only ones. If only we had known….

#Salford #Elim #Church

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frontproofmedia · 4 years

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A Trip Down Memory Lane: Part 1: March 2008

By Hector Franco | Senior Writer and Editor

Follow @MrHector_Franco !function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src=p+'://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js';fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs'); Follow @Frontproofmedia!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src=p+'://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js';fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs');

The views and opinions expressed on this web site are solely those of the original authors and other contributors. These views and opinions do not necessarily represent those of Frontproof Media, the Frontproofmedia.com staff, and/or any/all contributors to this site.

Published: March 28, 2020

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March 2020 will infamously be remembered for the Corona Virus (COVID-19), putting a stop to the sports world.

Multiple boxing matches have been postponed, and without enough information as to when people will be able to congregate in large groups again, there’s no set timeline in which the sports world will get back to normal.

During these times of uncertainty, it’s important to look back and be grateful for those times that boxing was there for us to either entertain or alleviate us from our everyday problems.

If one were to go back in time to another monumental month of March in boxing, one needs to look no further then 2008.

While there were still online boxing forums with back and forth arguments between passionate boxing fans, there was nowhere near the level of vitriol and disdain seen on today’s Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram platforms.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao were still both stars in the sport with hall-of-fame credentials; however, every move they made wasn’t examined and criticized as it has been over the last decade.

2008 was before boxing joined the streaming app revolution broadcasting fights on ESPN+ and DAZN. This period is when Showtime and HBO reigned supreme.

Most importantly, March 2008 provided fans with back-to-back weeks of great fights.

On March 01, 20008, Rafael Marquez (41-9, 37 KOs) faced off for the third time in a year against Israel Vazquez (44-5, 32 KOs) at the Home Depot Center (Dignity Health Sports Park) in Carson, California for the WBC Super Bantamweight title.

Rarely in the entertainment business does a sequel surpass its predecessor. However, there are those rare exceptions.

The Vazquez-Marquez series of fights seemed to ratchet up the intensity with each match. The second bout between the two Mexican champions won the Fight of the Year for 2007. The third encounter would surpass fight of the year notions into fight of the decade considerations.

What made the Vazquez-Marquez bouts so compelling is that both men were big punchers that could hurt one another at any point in the fight. Marquez was able to score a knockdown against Vazquez for the first time in the fourth round but was later deducted a point for low blows in the 10th round.

The ebbs and flows of the match featured several momentum shifts leading into a climactic 12th round.

In one of the most dramatic endings in championship boxing history, Vazquez was able to secure a standing eight-count from referee Pat Russel in the 12th round when Marquez was hit with a series of punches with only the ropes stopping him from going down.

Vazquez escaped with a narrow split-decision victory winning by just one point. Two of three judges scored the fight for Vazquez with scores of 114-111 and 113-112, with the last judge scoring the match 114-111 in favor of Marquez.

Vazquez-Marquez III would go on to win the Fight of the Year honor in 2008.

The two men would meet again in a fourth bout two years later in May 2010 in a bout that is better left ignored. It falls into the same category as the Godfather 3 or Rocky 5.

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One week later, on March 08, 2008, at the Plaza De Torres in Cancun, Mexico, Juan “ Baby Bull” Diaz (42-4, 21 KOs) defended his WBA, IBF, and WBO Lightweight titles against veteran Nate “The Galaxxy Warrior” Campbell (37-11-1, 26 KOs).

Diaz, 24, at the time, was considered the heavy favorite over the then 36-year old Florida native.

Campbell’s ring entrance alone was enough to signify that he wasn’t there to be a showcase opponent for the younger Diaz. He was there to win and win emphatically.

Diaz was known for his volume punching, allowing him to overwhelm the vast majority of his opponents. It seemed like a misplaced strategy for Campbell to get into a war of attrition with Diaz; however, on this night, the veteran would outfight the younger Diaz.

From the start, Campbell went after Diaz, exceeding him in punches thrown in most rounds. In the fifth round, Campbell was able to land a blow that caused a cut over Diaz’s left eye.

The cut would impact Diaz for the remainder of the bout in what turned out to be an all-out war.

Campbell would be awarded a split decision victory with two of the three judges scoring the fight in his favor with scores of 115-112 and 116-111.

Amazingly, the 36-year old fighter out threw and out-landed the 24-year old landing 414 out 1145 punches at a 36 percent connect rate. Diaz landed 288 out of 891 punches at a 32 percent connect rate.

On the other side of the world that same day, David “Hayemaker” Haye (28-4, 26 KOs) took on Enzo Maccarinelli (41-8, 33 KOs) for the WBA, WBO and WBC Cruiserweight titles at the 02 Arena in London, England.

Haye stopped Maccarinelli in the second round to crown himself the king of the Cruiserweight division, propelling him into the Heavyweight division where he would spend the rest of his career.

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On March 15, 2008, the second chapter of the storied rivalry between Manny Pacquiao (62-7-2, 39 KOs) and Juan Manuel Marquez (56-7-1, 40 KOs) took place at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas.

This was the beginning of a historic run for the Filipino that would take him from being a star to a superstar that transcends the sport.

The bout would be fought for Marquez’s WBC Super Featherweight title and the Ring Magazine Super Featherweight title.

The fight itself, just like its predecessor, was another fight of the year candidate between two of the best fighters in the world.

Pacquiao would walk away with a close split decision, essentially winning the fight by one single point off of a knockdown scored in the third round.

The scores were 115-112 and 114-113 for Pacquiao and 115-112 for Marquez.

At the time, the second Pacquiao-Marquez fight was the highest-grossing pay-per-view below the Welterweight division selling 400,000 buys. This would later be broken in 2009 when Pacquiao faced the United Kingdom’s, Ricky Hatton.

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Lastly, on March 22, 2008, Joel “El Cepillo” Casamayor (38-6-1, 22 KOs) defended his Ring Magazine, and lineal Lightweight championship’s against Australia’s Michael Katsidis (33-8, 24 KOs)

Katsidis was undefeated at the time, holding a record of 23 wins with 20 knockouts. The Australian seemed to be on the rise while Casamayor was headed in the opposite direction coming off of one of the worst performances of his career against Jose Armando Santa Cruz.

Casamayor has often been forgotten within the annals of boxing history, but his accomplishments as an amateur and professional are significant.

The Cuban had an amateur record of 363-30 winning an Olympic Gold medal at the 1992 Olympic games. He was also a two-division world champion as a professional.

Surprisingly, when the bout started, Casamayor was able to score two quick knockdowns on Katsidis, who attempted to rush in against the Cuban southpaw leaving him open for straight left counters.

In the third round, Katsidis began to work his way back into the fight as his intensity level picked up. In the fourth round, Katsidis visibly hurt Casamayor in an exchange that would change the momentum of the bout going forward.

In the sixth round, Katsidis hurt Casamayor with a body shot allowing him to take advantage and knock the Cuban through the ropes. Casamayor would make it back in the ring before the referee reached the count of ten.

The evening’s festivities got worse for Casamayor in the ninth round as referee John Schorle took a point away for low blows. After nine rounds, Katsidis could have possibly won every round after the second.

In the tenth round, Katsidis would learn a painful lesson. You can’t make the same mistake twice against a veteran.

Katsidis smelling blood rushed out of his corner at the start of the round. However, Casamayor was ready for him.

The Cuban veteran caught Katsidis with a beautifully timed counter straight left hand that sent the Australian to the canvass in a daze.

Katsidis is a warrior in the truest sense and rose from the knockdown. But the damage was done as the bout was quickly stopped 30 seconds into the tenth round.

The stoppage seemed a bit premature, but the viciousness of the first knockdown by Casamayor may have pushed the referee to save Katsidis from himself.

Looking back at these four weeks in March 2008 makes one grateful and appreciative of the skill, passion, and heart that fighters provide us for our entertainment.

When boxing and the sports world in general gets back to some sense of normalcy, fans will hopefully be more thankful for what takes place inside the squared circle.

(Featured Photo: Tom Casino/Showtime)

#HF #Israel Vasquez #Rafael Marquez #Manny Pacquiao #JUAN MANUEL MARQUEZ

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