#so expect more nfl content from me!!

[zackcollins]

Dressed for Success || CIN vs LV || 11/21/21

#ayo this is my first nfl gif #since somebody got me interested in joe burrow #ive decided i might as well get interested in football as a whole #so expect more nfl content from me!! #hope thats okay #its good to try new things right? #anyways #hope you guys enjoy this!! #joe burrow #cincinatti bengals #football #american football #nfl #national football league #not hockey #not baseball #babygirl tiger #this boy is r.t.s type #r.t. makes gifs #r.t. posts gifs #football gifs #sports gifs #gifs #amercian football gifs

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 12

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader

Warnings: Cursing, briefly mentioned puke (referenced), panic attacks (referenced), the NFL

Authors note: wanted to get this out before the race tomorrow, I actually quite like this chapter

Masterlist

—————————————————

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Austin, TX

liked by logansargeant charles_leclerc16 and 2,309,099 others

yourusername happy to be back in Austin, ready to recharge 🔋

Tagged: logansargeant, l/nranch

load comments…

user1 the speed with which she left china is honestly so funny

user2 the race was two days ago why’s she already in America 😭

user3 why’s she at a farm???

user4 her grandpas family got rich by owning a really successful agricultural company so both her grandparents decided to buy a ranch outside of Austin, which is where y/n grew up

user5 her dad being English always throws me off when I think about her family tbh

user6 her grandpa went to a race once and made the joke that the Americanism skipped a generation lol

user7 wait I’m new to y/n, how’s her dad English but the rest of her family’s American?

user8 her grandparents were based in England when he was born but they ended up really busy so they sent him to a boarding school from the time he was really young, hence the accent

user9 they’re so confusing 😭

user10 my favorite cowgirl

user11 she couldn’t wait till cota to go home???

logansargeant your grandma likes me more than you

yourusername no she doesn’t

user12 I didn’t know Logan went with her

user13 where’s Charles???

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Las Vegas, NV

liked by killatrav taylorswift13 and 3,980,756 others

yourusername had a great time at the @/patrickmahomes charity golf gala this weekend! Grateful for the opportunity to show all these boys how it’s done out on the green and support charity at the same time! ⛳️

Might have to get you a different hat though 😉 @/killatrav

Tagged: logansargeant, killatrav, patrickmahomes

load comments…

user14 are those Porsche golf balls!?!?

user15 THEY EAT SO HARD

logansargeant I 100% beat you

yourusername I was 5 under par. You were 5 over. You lost.

logansargeant ☹️

user16 what a crossover

killatrav don’t hate the player, hate the game 🤷‍♂️

yourusername i dont hate the game, I just hate alpine

pierregasly ???

yourusername see you next week, Frenchie

user17 her and Pierres fake beef is genuinely so funny to me

user18 where's Charlesssss

user19 he liked the post, at least

user20 omg they're in Vegas! Remember what happened last time they were in Vegas…

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Bellagio Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas

liked by charles_leclerc16 donnakelce and 6,989,870 others

yourusername Last night out in Vegas 😵‍💫

I'm, once again, honored to have been invited to the 15 and the Mahomies Charity Gala! Got to auction off a few paddock passes and also got to spend a great night out with friends!

Thanks so much Vegas, you were a lot better this time than you were last time.

Tagged: logansargeant, taylorswift13, killatrav, patrickmahomes, charles_leclerc16

load comments…

user21 CHARLES CONTENT?!?!

user22 she seems happier than she has before

user23 Logan and Taylor swift in the same room is not something I’d ever expect tbh

patrickmahomes thanks for coming! ❤️💛

yourusername thanks for inviting us! ❤️🖤

user24 this is just so American

taylorswift13 🫶

yourusername 🫶

user25 more Logan content this week than Williams gives in a month

user26 they’ve been to like three different states already lmao

user27 I need the home field advantage from Miami for these two this weekend

logansargeant I’m so tired

yourusername at least it was fun 🤷‍♀️

logansargeant lol, it definitely was

user28 the first pic is so sibling coded

user29 “Mon ange” CHARLESSS 🥹

user30 the fact he’s tagged on the messages 😭

user31 THE LAST LINE ABOUT VEGAS?!?! IM SCREAMING!!!

TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver!reader #fem!driver!reader #fem!driver

[betterthanburrow]

Fashion Designer’s Boyfriend - Instagram AU

(Bengals Quarterback! Joe Burrow x Designer! OC)

liked by joeyb_9, and 720,909 more users

yourinstagram: a dream come true @.emijay 🦋🤍

view all 229,387 comments

joeyb_9: there are not enough words in the dictionary that can describe how proud i am of you for achieving your dreams… i’m truly so happy and proud of you!

↳ yourinstagram: thank you baby 🤍

emijay: this was an experience of a lifetime!

mamaburrow: proud of you darling!

allisonkuch: i’m so glad i got to stop by the pop-up shop this past weekend!

↳ yourinstagram: i’m so happy you came by 🤍

liked by 199,875 users

Y/FNWorld: Joe Burrow’s Instagram Story of Y/FN at her pop-up shop that was opened this past week!

view all 57,180 comments

username1: the way Joe will only be active on Instagram is when he wants to post about football or when he wants to support Y/N’s business.

username2: i was at the pop-up shop earlier today and saw him clinging by Y/N’s side any chance he got when she wasn’t busy talking to customers and if she was busy talking to customer he would hang out in the back of the shop, away from the crowd… i can’t believe the Bengal’s Quarterback is such an anti-social guy when it comes to any events outside of football.

↳ username3: when i went to the pop-up shop on the 2nd day that the shop was open, it was very crowded… and with today being the last day i would expect there to be more people than the amount of people on the first day and second day of the shop being open. so it’s not surprising that Joe (who is anti-social) wouldn’t like being in that crowded environment of the shop.

↳ username4: it’s sweet to know that even though Joe doesn’t like crowded places where he’s not comfortable… he still wants to go support Y/N and her dreams just like how she has alway supported him.

liked by yourinstagram and 295,101 more users

SweetyHigh: our interview with Y/FN Y/LN & Emi Jay about their pop-up shop is available to watch on Youtube or click the link in our bio to read the article!

view all 69,007 comments

emijay: thank you for interviewing us!

username1: i think this is the first time in an interview where Y/N talks about Joe and didn’t try to shut down the questions about him… it makes me happy that she is starting to be more comfortable publicly talking about their relationship.

↳ username2: most of the time in Y/N’s interviews, they’ll always ask about her relationship with Joe and never want to talk about anything about else… but in this interview, the only question that was about Joe was asked to Y/N towards the end of the interview and the question wasn’t about their relationship.

yourinstagram: this was such a fun interview to do 🤍

liked by allisonkuch and 890,751 more users

joeyb_9: it’s hard being a fashion designer’s boyfriend.

view all 420,007 comments

yourinstagram: oh really… it’s hard being a fashion designer’s boyfriend?! i wonder how hard it is for the fashion designer?!

↳ joeyb_9: the fashion designer that i’ve been in a relationship with for almost 5 years makes everything she does look so easy ☺️

↳ yourinstagram: well you’ll have to introduce me to this fashion designer because it’s not an easy job…

↳ joeyb_9: i never said it was an easy job Petals… i just said you made it look easy (because you’re so hardworking and talented and beautiful and i love you)

↳ yourinstagram: i’ll take that as a compliment 😊

isaacrochell: from the last time i checked… it’s hard to be a football player for the NFL as well.

↳ joeyb_9: i grew all this facial hair during the weeks of helping my girlfriend prepare for her pop-up shop 😵‍💫 i haven’t grown facial hair this fast while playing football.

liked by 200,175 users

JLB_Updates: Y/N’s instagram story.

view all 33,098 comments

username1: they don’t post about each other often, but when they do… it’s always the cutest stuff 🥹

username2: if they ever break up… love is DEAD!

username3: we got so much content from Y/N and Joe today… i don’t think this will ever happen again.

liked by joeyb_9, and 555,095 more users

yourinstagram: living in a daydream ☁️

view all 280,999 comments

joeyb_9: you’re the love of my life Pearl.

↳ yourinstagram: that’s good news to hear baby.

allisonkuch: break up with your boyfriend and date me.

↳ yourinstagram: okay, it’s a done deal.

↳ joeyb_9: WAIT… just like our relationship is over?!

↳ isaacrochell: damn… Joe and i just thrown out of our relationships like that 😵‍💫 no hesitation at all.

Author’s Note:

this is definitely one of my favorite Instagram AUs that i have written so far, i definitely think that i could write a sequel to this Instagram AU in the future because i had so many ideas for the Bengals Quarterback x Fashion Designer couple!

y’all are getting spoiled with many Instagram AUs being posted during this past week because i had so many ideas for different Instagram AUs all at once.

thank you all for the love and support 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #Cincinnati Bengals #LSU Tigers #CFB #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow x Reader #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow Instagram #Joe Burrow Instagram AU #Instagram AU #NFL Fanfiction

[msmargaretmurry]

Apparently the players themselves absolutely hated last year’s all star game which was a shocker to me. It looked fun from my view! But a lot of reporters have said guys were talking shit and didn’t like it. I personally find joy in watching Connor McDavid’s money laundering scheme but it was not as fun as last year’s in my eyes. I do appreciate making it a mega competition where there’s one big prize at the end but I wish more guys competed. This one really just felt like a competition between Cale and Connor for a lot of it.

anon i'm so sorry you sent this EONS ago and i've just been so busy i haven't had the chance to sit down and write out all the all star game thoughts and ponderings i've been having. because i know we are probably all sick of the asg complaining and discourse but i genuinely think it is such an interesting topic! what makes a "good" all star weekend? what is the criteria for measuring "good"? ideally you create an event that is widely appealing to both fans and players but that's surprisingly difficult, and imo sometimes those things are kind of fundamentally at odds!

lots of asg thoughts (complaints) under the cut lol sorry, i do not expect people to actually read all this

i'm not SHOCKED to hear that players didn't like the asw in florida because i feel like guys have been complaining about the asw since time immemorial, but i too am surprised that they apparently complained so much that the nhl decided they had to overhaul the whole skills comp. i went to the asg in florida and certainly had my quibbles about the experience from a fan standpoint but overall had a really fun time. my main complaint is that there was too many pre-recorded stuff during the skills comp — like, i didn't pay money to sit in this arena and watch videos on the jumbotron, you know? so while i do like when there's a special skills event that kind of pays homage to the host city, and i surely am not complaining about the #content we got out of the dunk tank, that was a little frustrating!

a complaint i know players have had about the skills competition in the past is that they don't want to be embarrassed, and while obviously it can be embarrassing to fall during fastest skater or take 46 seconds doing the accuracy shooting, it has seemed like for a lot of them the events they think are most likely to be embarrassing are the events that rely on leaning into personality and being silly/funny and creative in non-hockey ways — events that really lean into the entertainment part of it all instead of the athlete part, like the breakaway challenge. the vast majority of these guys do not like to think of themselves as entertainers! in their minds they're just hockey players! and hockey culture actively dissuades guys from standing out and having loud personalities so it makes sense that many of them would be more comfortable in a contest that's pure skills!

unfortunately the most fun and memorable parts of all star weekends are almost always the parts where guys DO show a lot of personality and/or are blatantly just having fun, not when they're concentrating super hard on executing skills events. i caught a bit of the nfl pro bowl and was so struck by how it seemed like the players were having so much FUN. there was so much JOY. it made it compelling and entertaining even though it don't follow the nfl closely enough to know who many of the guys at the pro bowl were.

like, i'm not knocking pure skills events. i genuinely enjoy watching these elite athletes be extremely good at things. the classic skills events — fastest skater, hardest shot — are fun to watch! and i'm not fundamentally opposed to more pure skills events. the pvp goalie save streak event was so fun, for example. but i thought a lot of the events invented for this year were too samey. they didn't really showcase different types of skills, they were just riffing on similar skill sets. it wasn't compelling to me, and i also thought it was kind of lol that everyone but connor had to learn the events on the fly and that definitely disadvantaged them.

AND i truly hated that only a handful of guys got to do the skills competition. to me one of the most fun things about the skills comp is the chance to see guys from teams all across the league and have some surprises about who does really well in events! that can't happen when the nhl decides that two-thirds of the teams don't even get representation in the skills comp, that over half the players aren't good enough to include in the event. who knows, maybe those guys preferred hanging out and drinking and watching, and that's valid of them, but as a fan — you invited my guys to the asg but didn't think they were good enough to do a few silly skill games? felt kinda shitty, man!

so while i do like connor, it really irked me the way the whole competition felt like it was designed to showcase him. yes, he's truly great, and it's fun to watch him be great! but i can turn on literally any oilers game and watch him be great; i don't need a whole event designed to showcase it. i want the the all star weekend to celebrate the LEAGUE, to use this opportunity to highlight great players who maybe DON'T constantly get the spotlight anyway IN ADDITION to the big names. i can't remember any skills comp in the past, even ones featuring generational talents at their peaks, that felt so pointedly designed to showcase a single player and it really rubbed me the wrong way. this isn't a knock against connor; it's a knock against how the nhl framed and presented the whole thing.

obviously this is my personal opinion, i've seen plenty of people who thought it was fun. that's valid! i am not The ASG Worth Decider, i am just one fan with a lot of feelings. i can also understand how it could have been more fun in-person than televised. unfortunately i was watching on tv so that's the only experience i can opine about. but also in addition to my personal opinion i objectively feel like it's a huge missed marketing opportunity. you're not gonna spark people's interests in watching new teams/players if you keep hammering home that this one guy is the guy worth watching.

though honestly, the entire skills comp experience for me was deeply colored by how awful i thought the commentary was. the constant judginess toward players instead of joy and celebration of players was gross. the way they kept leaning hard into the million dollar prize as this huge motivating factor for these millionaires to win a series of silly games was gross. it's very possible i would have enjoyed it more if the commentary didn't suck so much, lmao.

also sorry i gotta complain real quick about the sheer number of canucks and leafs. sorry i know this is such an annoying complaint. i am even very fond of a lot of the guys from those teams who were voted in but my god there were too many of them. i would have let three leafs slide since they're the host team and toronto is ~so special~ even though many host teams have only gotten one or two players in the past, but this was a bridge too far. "they were decided by popular vote what else did you expect" i'm not an idiot, okay, that is exactly what i expected to happen with the popular vote. my complaint is not that the popular vote popular voted, it's that the nhl decided that's how they were gonna do things. the whole damn system is bad!!!

and lest it be concluded from this post that i am SOLELY a hater let me say for the record that i don't think the whole thing was bad. there were some really fun moments! i love that they brought the asg draft back and i had a lot of fun watching it. i thought the ACTUAL all star games were really entertaining and fun to watch. i thought that one musical guest in the sens outfit killed it. my beef is really just with a bunch of aspects of the skills comp lmao.

in conclusion: more joy!!! more celebration of the league as a whole!!! more chances for unexpected all star heroes!!!

#ask #nhl asg #hockey for ts #belated asg feelings dump that literally no one asked for lmao #again these are just my personal feelings! #if you liked the new skills format and had way more fun than me i'm genuinely happy for you!

[csowersblog]

How Junk News Spreads So Quickly

After reading the article, Three reasons junk news spreads so quickly across social media, I have been able to make connections to the points made in the article and to what I have experienced in my own experience. Using social media, I have seen firsthand the way that algorithms, advertising, and exposure can alter the news that I am receiving via social media.

Algorithms are designed to give us what we want. They show us the content that, based on what we have viewed/liked/commented on before, will keep us engaged the longest. Personally, I have seen how this can affect the information coming to the user, and how it varies from person to person. For example, my TikTok For You page is much different than that of my friend, Maddie. She tends to get videos about politics and current events in our government, while I seem to get more videos about current pop culture events. Since I scroll past political videos but she watches and engages with them, an algorithm will decide to give her more videos on that topic, and give me less.

Advertising seems to be harmless at first glance, however we do not even realize the affects it can have. Since many social media platforms are free, the companies make their money from other companies that want to advertise their products or services. Advertising on social media encourages companies to make the most eye-catching content possible, since the more viral the post, the more attention to their company. They also will use influencers to promote their products on social media. There have been many times when I see an influencer promoting a product, and I can't even tell if they genuinely stand by that product or if it is just for the advertisement. I have also seen many companies use clickbait to get people to pay attention to their ads on Instagram, which will be more likely to make it go viral.

Exposure is what can strongly divide what each of us see on our Explore or For You pages. When we are interested in a topic or already have a certain viewpoint on something, it is more likely that we will get more information and news on that topic or side of the argument. In politics specifically, I have found that I will get TikToks about the political party that I support, and very rarely will get any that show the viewpoint of the opposing political party. This also extends to less important topics, like sports and gaming. I personally have been following the 49ers more lately, and I have now been getting content about that team instead of any other NFL team.

With all of these factors contributing to false news spreading via social media, businesses need to be aware of the challenges they face. Knowing what news is real vs. what is only given for views is essential. Also, businesses who are interested in making ads on social media sites need to know what to expect when they are promoting their business.

[blogger360ncislarules]

On Sunday night, Mike Benson gets a little over seven minutes to cap off weeks of work.

The CBS marketing chief will use promo time allotted to Paramount Global during the Super Bowl to turbocharge a broad array of campaigns he has set in motion in the past few months aimed at getting viewers excited about one of the most unorthodox TV seasons in history.

“Think about what we are up against here,” says Benson, a veteran of the business of promoting programming who has also worked at ABC and Amazon. “It’s the first time going back to 1954 that a broadcast network is launching a season outside of the fall” due to the recent Hollywood talent strikes.

CBS will use the Super Bowl to tout not just the new drama “Tracker,” which gets its debut right after the end of the game, but also “Ghosts,” “Fire Country,” “So Help Me Todd” and “Young Sheldon.” Some of that promo time will also be allocated to the free video-on-demand outlet Pluto as well as Paramount+, all part of parent company Paramount Global.

The marketing tactics are crucial for Paramount, which has been viewed as an acquisition candidate by Wall Street and needs to demonstrate its prowess in getting people to watch its content in sizable numbers. “The exclusive airing of Super Bowl LVIII this Sunday will be a bright spot for the company at a time when Paramount Global remains under pressure due to its transition to and competition in streaming from its declining linear operations,” says Neil Begley, a media analyst and senior vice president at Moody’s, in a note. “Also, we believe that more eyes on the game than average are likely given that we expect higher numbers of non-traditional fans watching for Taylor Swift sightings, which should be a boon for advertisers.”

And though CBS is not paying directly for the time, it can’t be squandered. It’s valuable. The network has been seeking between $6.5 million and more than $7 million for a 30-second spot in the Big Game.

The real takeaway for Super Bowl viewers, says Benson, is that CBS will debut the bulk of its programs in the days following the game as part of a “good old-fashioned Premiere Week.”

The hope is that the Super Bowl will serve as a final marketing salvo after months of work aimed at getting people excited about CBS’ schedule of programs. Since the official end of strikes by actors and writers in fall, CBS has run recaps helping them to remember where their favorite series left off in 2023. During the NFL playoffs, CBS ran “first look” footage that offered viewers sneak previews that were called “sneak ends.” Some featured actors like Queen Latifah, Cedric the Entertainer and Iain Armitage speaking directly to the audience — and not in character.

CBS has also run promos that tout its Monday- and Tuesday-night schedules instead of individual shows, something easier to do since a suite of “NCIS” series run on Monday and three “FBI” programs run on Tuesdays.

“There is a lot we have to get done,” he says. And, at least on Super Bowl Sunday, just a little time to do it.

#tracker cbs #tracker #young sheldon #cbs #Youtube

[defensefilms]

NFL Divisional Round Preview And The NFL Is Blocking Everything

The Divisional Round is upon us and we are now in the part of the season that matter an with som

But before I do my preview, I want to address something that's been happening with the NFL, and more specifially, with content creators who talk about the NFL.

Lately the NFL has been blocking links to thier content being shared on all social media platoforms, going so far as to even block anyone sharing a highlights video on Tumblr via a link, as well as every other type of sharing.

The NFL is a business, and they have the right to do what they want, and looking at their ratings, they appear happy to hedge all thier bets on the television market, even if it is somewhat outdated.

I'll say this, it may feel like they have a huge lead in television audience numbers, and television is the medium that the NFL was created for, but times are changing.

Today you're the industry leader in live sports television, tomorrow you're a step behind every other past time because in 10 years, no one will own a television, and the streaming audience is notoriously anti-advertising.

Meanwhile every other major sport has been taking the free advertising and marketing that content creators provide and built a lead in the emerging platforms of the 21st century.

Anyway, I should really reconsider doing another one of these, given last week's 3-3 total, but here goes. Keep reading to see my picks and predictions.

1. Baltimore Ravens vs Houston Texans

The Texan roll in to this one knowing full well what their offense is capable, but to beat this Ravens team in Baltimore will be a different level altogether.

Starting with Baltimore's defense, they are surely among the best secondary units in the league, and they will need to show it in this game, CJ Stroud threw 3 touchdowns to 3 different recievers last week against the Browns.

For the most part, I expect this game to be a high scoring shootout, but there is a twist because Baltimore are the 3rd best rushing attack in the league, so I think they are more layered than the Texans, and will be able to control time of possession.

But the biggest reason to pick the Ravens is thier quarterback.

Lamar has been awesome all season, I fuly expect him to be crowned MVP because nobody has been better this year, he is simply the best player in the NFL in 2024.

Give me Baltimore to win.

MY Pick: Baltimore Ravens Win 35-30

2. San Francisco 49ers vs Green Bay Packers

The 1-seed 9ers host a plucky Greenbay team lead by a young quarterback and I really wonder how much the recent playoff history between the two teams will matter in this one.

The 9ers defense had turned into specialists at stopping Aaron Rodgers, and wonder if thier defensive co-ordinator, Steve WIlks, has figured anything out from Jordan Love's virtuoso performance last week.

The Pacers defense should com in to this game witha wave of momentum, they may have given up 32 points in the win against Dallas, but they stonewalled Dak Prescott and his offense for the first half while building up a lead.

However, even with the 9ers being the favorites, and rightly so, there is still the one boogeyman they have yet to overcome, which is Brock Purdy bringing them back when they are trailing, which has never happened.

If the 9ers are able to play with a lead, it'll be business as usual, but I feel like there is a sting in the tail, and you know, if I'm going to mae a risky pick, it may as well be against my least favorite team in the league.

MY PICK: Green Bay Packers Win 27-20

3. Detroit Lions vs Tampa Bay Buccaneers

The Bucs travel to Detroit as underdogs and will play in an atmosphere that only the Detroit crowd can provide, and they will be hyped for this.

The Bucs defense was really good against the Eagles, but the Lions will pose a different threat in the pass game, where they were really good last week in the 1st half, Goff had 227 yard on 27 pass attempts.

Add to that, Baker Mayfield has been sacked more times than any quarterback remaining in the playoffs, at 40 times, and that's something for the Lions to ponder in thier game plan.

I expect to see the Bucs feeding Rachaad White a lot more in this game and establishing the run, how the Bucs execute play-action, will be all important for Baker and the recievers.

I think Detroit are rightly being favorited, but I'm worried about Detroit's offense only scoring a single field goal last week against the Rams.

Still, I feel I have to ride the hot hand, and Detroit still had a better quality victory and perfomance over a better team in the Rams, so I'll take Detroits

MY PICK: Detroit Lions Win 28-17

4. Buffalo Bills vs Kansas City Chiefs

This will be the 3rd time that Josh Allen and Patrick Mohames will play in the playoffs, and for the first time, the Chiefs will likely be underdogs, and they'll have to go on the road.

Here's where this gets tricky, the Bills teams of the past did not have the same balance between running and passing as they do right now, they averaged 130 yards per game for the regulars season, and both the Chiefs and the Bills hold opposing teams to 110 yards rushing per game.

However to me, the most fascinating part of this duel will be the defenses of both teams, and how both team's secondaries have been among the best in the league this year, both are in the top 10 for passing yards allowed.

The Chiefs were among the top teams in total defense but the Bills aren't far off in 3rd place, and for what it's worth I believe the Bills have to get a slight nod, they nabbed 18 interceptions in the regular season.

The quarterback comparison is where this get interesting, both Allen and Mahomes are top 10 in total touchdown passes and in total paasing yards, but its the mood around both offenses that's most telling.

The Bills really found thier rhythm toward the end of the regular season where they had a 6-1 record to claim the 2nd seed, but it's the Chiefs offense and those wide recievers have changed how the Chiefs offense approaches games.

Simply put the Chiefs in 2024 cannot win a high scoring shootout of as they would have in years past.

What this comes down to, is that this is arguably the most conservative, and also the least offensively potent Kansa City Chiefs team since Mahomes was drafted.

Give me Buffalo to win.

MY PICK: Buffalo Bills Win 29-24

#sports #national football league #nfl #nfl playoffs #nfl 2024 #no fun league #chiseled adonis #content creators #nfl blocking

[sportsminorityreport]

A talk with CU’s Chancellor & the latest on the PAC Media deal... Plus a hidden explanation on why it is taking so long?

While I was putting together the last few articles, things have happened (or not happened, depending on your point of view) in PAC circles.

There is a new article today talking with the Chancellor of the University of Colorado, Phil DiStephano.  There were some candid moments that I love about college football articles when a leader is euphoric with the moment.  There is a moment where he basically says, “I love that I hired Deion Sanders because prior to hiring him we were so bad the fans and the boosters weren’t just talking about firring the coach, they weren’t just talking about firing the Athletic Director, they were actually talking about FIRING ME.  Now with Deion here, no one is talking about THAT crazy thought and I can get back to my job.”

“Oh and I expect we will see a new media deal SOON...”

Yeah.  He went there.  Another PAC leader saying “a deal would be done soon”.

Just two weeks ago Pete Thamel, another highly respected realignment reporter said “no deal is expected for a few more months.”

Look...If Thamel said it, that is the case. The real question then becomes WHY did DiStephano say otherwise?  Was it a PR thing?  Was he just being optimistic?  Is he being told new information?

He also said that the deal may be worth more than all but the SEC and Big Ten deals after all... This is a comment with optimism we haven’t heard in AGES about the PAC media deal and absolutely demanded follow up...but was not.

So...What’s in the water at these PAC meetings?

Is the PAC close to a deal with the 3 headed dog of ESPN, Amazon, and Apple?  Is this just unfounded optimism/corporate talk?  Is this based on reports from the PAC conference leadership?  And if so, are the presidents being told the truth?

Two weeks ago, the PAC followed the not-so-subtle advices of longtime media consultant John WIlliams and spoke to the CW.

Those talks appear to gone nowhere and are now over. Luke Bouma’s salacious headline suggests THE CW has walked away but that is not necessarily clear from the source article.

Contact with ION has not been noted since the WIlliams arrticle, but it is a weaker brand, so perhaps that can be forgiven.

My guess is that perhaps hubris played a role?

The word of the PAC speaking to the CW was met with derision and scorn across college football fandom. It was quite similar to the brushback when FOX won the bidding for the NFL way back when.  And like that, it is likely unfounded.  Content on the air mostly finds it’s audience. 

Lets unpack what has occurred if Luke Bouma was correct and the CW bailed.  Perhaps this was a “we already have a plan, but if it will shut you up...” kind of move by the PAC for the benefit of their critics.

I am frankly surprised that with a company like the CW with an apparent desire for sports content that is KNOWN in insider circles, the PAC couldn’t get through a single meeting without the CW pulling the plug. If that is actually what happened.  How does that happen?  How do two entities, desperate for each other’s offerings, miss? How do those talks “never get serious”?

My GUESS is that the PAC went in saying, “hey we are the PAC and we WILL be bringing SDSU and SMU with us.  Will you pay us more per school for all 12 of these schools than x partner (be it Apple, Amazon, or ESPN) we might talk to you.”

The CW doesn’t have “ESPN money” (or do they?  More on that in a moment).  What they offer is exposure and the potential to eat up weaker content, making the remaining content scarcer and more valuable. 

With that in mind.... You couldn’t leave a door open for the sale of any games?

My personal approach would have been to push the idea that you want SOME of the PAC content on the CW --- an early game every week on Saturday would ben a winner in terms of national exposure, but we HAVE to make money on our better matchups selling them elsewhere--- what can the CW do to make that worthwhile?

But that strategy frankly doesn’t work as well when you don’t have more “less desirable" content...when all you really have to offer is most Oregon State and Washington State games and maybe all of the SMU content, it’s a tough fit. 

Some of that content may actually be somewhat desired by your current media partners.  Not the SMU stuff obviously (not this year anyway), but the rest. 

To me I see that as a gross misunderstanding of what the CW brings to the table.   The CW brings funding for expansion that your current partners do not want to give you.

This hits me as the PAC leadership wanting the minimal effort path.  

The presidents/chancellors saying, “Let’s just get back to 12.  We know we want SDSU and SMU.  Go sell that.”

DeStefano took a moment to say he would vote for 12.  That tells me everyone is on board with SMU and SDSU.  Except maybe the media partners.

Square peg.  Round hole.

Says the PAC school leaders in unison, “Where’s my hammer?!’

The problem is that’s this new PAC 12 is just not a good product overall on the field or on TV. 

A potential positive spin

A very positive spin based on the optimistic revenue projections by DiStefano would be that the PAC met with The CW ...and Amazon lost it’s shit over that and promised the payouts, even if they took a while, would be worth their weight if the league immediately suspended talks with the CW.

Do I believe that?  No.

IS it possible?  Anything is possible in realignment.  TAMU and UT are in the SEC.  Maryland and freaking Rutgers get bigger TV checks than LSU and Florida.

There is always a logic under the words said by a principle in realignment.

How would you vet that as a reporter?  By finding out the voting representative at each school and polling each of them or at least a few of them on the phone with a battery of easy questions with a simple one that you really want answered buried inside:

“Based on your optimism today with the negotiations with Amazon, Apple, and ESPN where do you feel the per team payouts will be on this next contract? Above 32M, in the 25M to 32M range, or just below 25M?

If the answer you hear most is above 32M, this newly optimistic view may be a valid take on the whole failed CW thing and not a bit of subterfuge to sway support by the Chancellor.

It is potentially a big story.  I’ll be looking for articles that address this.

More on the CW 

The thing about this is the CW is actually quite a good home in terms of exposure.  How many homes get the CW vs. ESPN? More homes get the CW.  it is on basic cable. It is a poor man’s ABC,CBS, NBC, or FOX,

There is quite a good article on this out today by Scott D. Pierce that covers the pros and cons.

One part I found very interesting was a new view to me on the CW.  I had thought about the CW as being (and I apologize about this description) a shoe string budget operation.  That is probably no longer the way to look at the CW. 

I felt like the finances to pull this off could be an issue.

But the CW is apparently owned by an organization with very, VERY deep pockets.

When you view the CW as a network on everywhere in the country and their owners wanting to maximize value....hmmm.....

One last note

I read articles to extract interesting elements and the Pete Thamel article had one that stood out tremendously.

“Those timelines appear too optimistic, as the Pac-12 remains engaged with multiple media partners, per sources. Those include streaming services, which have developed a reputation for deliberate contract negotiations, in part because they don't have the same decades of experience in the space as traditional networks.”

Interesting...

In layman’s terms, Conferences do not want to negotiate with the streaming services because it’s difficult.  They are difficult and harder to pin down on numbers. They have developed a reputation as being a pain in the ass.

The streaming services undoubtedly blame this on the fact that they literally have no historic data to work from, which apparently has the desperate PAC willing to wait on them.

But that does go back to a “lack of trust” scenario I mentioned in the last article.

What if Amazon really just wants Washington and Oregon games?  What if they are willing to pay Big Ten level payouts for both of those schedules?

There is a view that Amazon is the slowest part of this negotiations.  That I have been able to see Amazon is the lead (only?) bidder for the PAC’s tier I content.  That means they will be paying the most.  They have the most to lose.

What if they flip and offer that money to the Big Ten for that Washington and Oregon content ....on a Big Ten schedule?

That probably collapses the PAC.

This hits me as a dangerous game of Poker the PAC is playing with Amazon.

I would probably want a contractual assurance from Amazon that shows good faith. Something that says pointedly that Amazon will not buy Washington or Oregon content from anyone else in the next 5 years in return for the PAC’s negotiating patience. I would tell them the presidents insisted.

And if they refuse? 

I said it before (in the last article in fact), Expand to 16 and bring in more linear partners like the CW, ION, and the Spanish networks. 

You are better off with those 16 schools and a wider base of media partners long term anyway, and you have the media narrative to get away with that kind of “uninspiring” expansion today.

[mcphersonworm39]

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Exploration the dentist: who’s the dentist, What exactly are his achievements, what’s his approach, how’s his work; We went to Dr.Cinik for my Pal's hair transplant operation. I also experienced teeth whitening done at Cinik Clinic, I used to be really content. Both of those my Buddy;s hair transplant and my dental treatment had been really prosperous. Thanks Dr Cinik. But this yr, the 27-year-previous has began to are afflicted by continual discomfort and several infections together with her typical dentist in britain who reported the dentist in Turkey experienced carried out an 'terrible position' and stated she needed £650 of work carried out to repair the damage. 'My typical NHS dentist reported they can't do a root canal for me on account of my crowns and the fabric of my teeth and instructed me I needed to go to A personal specialist. teeth turkey Restorative Dentist: The dentist focuses on repairing or changing the ruined teeth and also the rigid tissues supporting teeth. Aftercare is very important to maintain the freshly whitened glance of your teeth and stop dental damages. Just after your teeth whitening treatment, your teeth is likely to be somewhat more delicate than usual due to the weakened tubules or pores over the tooth floor. This is certainly why it is frequently advised to avoid also cold or very hot beverages and foods along with acidic food. Have to have additional information on dental crowns? You feel like you don’t know adequate about the topic? Browse our guideline on dental crowns in Turkey. Dentists in Turkey acquire incredible amounts of encounter in a brief amount of time. This is often mainly because of the sheer volume of situations they experience. I'm neither a brothel keeper nor an previous crone, so You should not tackle me as one, states JACI STEPHEN... I'm Normally the final a single standing Cat behaviourist reveals what your feline's go-to identify reveals about them - and why some are drawn to hospitals Make your shift! The luxury townhouse from Succession built well known by Kieran Culkin's Roman Roy slashes sale selling price by $two.five million - and it comes along with a large cinema, wine cellar and 12 Bogs 'It absolutely was just also deep': Sir Paul McCartney claims he 'could not take a look at' former Beatles bandmate John Lennon soon after his tragic Loss of life  China deploys 71 warplanes to skies about Taiwan in chilling 'strike drill' - then blames US for 'provocations' and 'collusion' with self-governing island Bloody Xmas weekend as fourteen individuals are shot dead, together with boy underneath the age of 5, and 16 Many others are wounded through the US  Brazil foils truck bomb targeting Lula's inaugurations and arrests Bolsonaro supporter who planted gadget and planned to 'sow chaos' Disgraced ex-Gravity CEO Dan Selling price likened himself to some Jew persecuted by Nazis right after colleagues refused to help you him with bizarre stunt and as opposed his card payments firm to ROSA PARKS, ex co-staff say Girl, 90, turns into TikTok feeling immediately after she flips the chook to Milwaukee librarian just after being as well she is simply too previous to borrow Manga textbooks  Apple's iPhone business faces 'defining minute' as China's Covid outbreak threatens significant supply chain chaos in the approaching months Inside of 2022's WILDEST superstar splits! Olivia Wilde and Harry Designs heading 'with a crack', Leonardo DiCaprio 'getting old out' Camila Morrone, Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen's divorce in excess of his 'refusal to quit NFL' plus much more stunning separations Xmas Using the Ronaldos! Cristiano's partner Georgina Rodriguez splashes out $three hundred,000 on a Rolls Royce to include into the ex-Male Utd star's luxury selection - as she reveals particulars in their working day  LPGA file title winner Kathy Whitworth dies quickly at eighty three although celebrating Xmas Eve with friends and family - With all the Tour foremost the tributes to golfing icon Earlier 'I had been in fact really satisfied with them and I noticed my United kingdom dentist straight right after who also claimed they looked wonderful. I had a number of gaps in my teeth And that i needed to get it completed (aesthetically). I consulted a few dentists And at last chose Mr.

Discolored teeth owing to difficulties such as root canal therapy, resin fillings, extra fluoride, stains from tetracycline along with other similar medicines, and various will cause This has led to lots of dentists in the UK warning persons from the related hazards as quite a few sufferers complained of painful difficulties which include teeth dying/rotting, excessive agony and, in some cases, people currently being specified crowns in place of veneers. seven hundred,000 annual health care tourists are drawn to Turkey yearly, touring from all across the globe, especially from within Europe and the Middle East, a lot of which vacation for Dental Implant techniques.

#teeth turkey

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

My first cup of coffee is poured and cooling a bit, our old kitty — Khloe — is in my lap, and I’m sat in my writing spot at the end of the couch nearest the front window. It’s cloudy and raining and the wind is blowing. I’m not sure if it’s remnants of Ian yet or just a regular storm. Guess we’ll find out. 🌧️

CNN: “Ian slammed into southwest Florida as a severe Category 4 hurricane Wednesday, packing sustained winds of 150 mph. Officials believe the death toll of at least 45 people is likely to climb in the coming days as searchers access areas that had been blocked by debris and floodwaters.”

What a tragic week for Floridians. So many folks displaced and damage beyond belief. Homes and businesses wiped completely off the map, land reclaimed by sand. And the there is the human toll. 😢

Take care my Florida friends. ❤️

Travel Radar: “There have been multiple reports of strange noises coming from American Airlines in recent weeks that neither the passengers nor crew members could explain. Some passengers have been airing their confusion across social media.”

It’s the perfect time of the year to have mysterious moaning sounds coming out of the speaker system on a flight.

It doesn’t sound like an equipment failure to me. I’m going with ghosts. 👻

Abhorrent. And yet, I’m not surprised at all. When ads become more algorithmic, people find fraudulent ways to cheat and make more money. The endgame: algorithmic podcast ads, which already degrade the listener experience, get further devalued and the entire industry loses. https://t.co/iCFv7fbP14

— Marco Arment (@marcoarment) September 29, 2022

When the big players figure out they can automate a money making machine they have to get involved and screw everything up.

Luckily we still have great Indie Podcasts to listen to.

TechCrunch: “Now, a Spanish startup called Penpot — which is taking a new approach to design collaboration through an open source platform that brings designers and developers into the mix simultaneously — says that it’s been seeing a huge amount of adoption since the Figma deal.”

I happens across Penpot a month or so before the Adobe purchase of Figma. It’s really nice and if you’re looking for a Figma alternative you might want to give it a look.

Bleacher Report: “Odell Beckham Jr. questioned why all NFL stadiums don’t feature grass fields after former New York Giants teammate Sterling Shepard suffered a non-contact knee injury on the MetLife Stadium turf on Monday night.”

This is not the first time turf has become controversial. I remember back in the 70’s or 80’s this being a topic of conversation. That was before this new wave of turf became a thing.

I’ve always been a fan of grass fields. Bring them back to every stadium you possibly can. I want to see some filthy uniforms.

Apple Newsroom: “Amid the tools used by archaeologists for centuries — trowels, buckets, brushes, and pickaxes — there’s a new piece of equipment: iPad Pro.”

I am so here for this. Seeing tools used in ways you never expected is always such a joy for the developer.

Congratulations to Top Hatch, the makers of Concepts, and my friend Marc Palmer who is a developer on the engineering team! 👍🏼

Politico: “A federal judge delivered a blistering rebuke of Republican Party leaders Tuesday for what she said was a cynical attempt to stoke false claims of election fraud of the kind that fueled the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol.”

I really wish Republican leaders weren’t so power hungry and had the guts to all come out against TFG.

Here’s hoping one of the many troubles TFG has leads to conviction and elimination from running for public office. 🤞🏼

9to5Mac: “This week, a new Instagram client called “OG App” caught the attention of the internet as it promised a better Instagram experience without advertisements or content suggestions from people you don’t know. The app seemed too good to be true, but it has now been taken down – not by Meta, but by Apple.”

If you’re surprised by this, don’t be. Instagram cut off developers long ago. At one time there were plenty of great Instagram clients, even for iPad!

It’s a closed platform. The best we can hope for is alternate services — like Glass — to catch on and take a big share of Instagrams user base.

The digital protest art being created in Iran–much of it anonymously–has been absolutely brilliant. pic.twitter.com/Q1MCJAhYxg

— Dr. Shiva Balaghi (@SBalaghi) September 30, 2022

Of course the United States, Britain, and Ukraine aren’t the only countries in complete disarray. Iran is having another revolution. Women are coming out in force to demand equal rights and an end to its totalitarian regime.

Yahoo Sports: “Again, if you don’t like the “White Bengal” look with the black stripes — which included the debut of the white helmet with black stripes on Thursday night — then it’ll be a while before you find an NFL uniform you like.”

I loved the white out uniforms worn by the Bengals Thursday night. Being a Bears fan I’m really looking forward to seeing the new orange helmets the Bears will be wearing on special occasions this year.

I kind of wish they’d go orange helmets with their navy blue color rush uniform but they’re not going that direction

Hayseed Blog: “I’m happy to announce a new Stream release. Version 1.3 is a minor release with one new feature and two bug fixes.”

I wish I could turn this little project into my full time gig. Heck, I’d be super happy with a few hundred bucks a month! 🤣

That aside I am proud of my little labor of love and hope you’ll give it a look.

Getting this version out the door has allowed me to get back to the Max version. It’s slow going since this is my first real Mac app but I do hope to ship it at some point. 😄

Time for my third cup. ☕️

[news4usonline]

Chargers' season tied to training camp

COSTA MESA (News4usonline) - Training camp for NFL ballclubs is about getting better. It’s about getting acquainted with the playbook. It’s about getting more familiar with new teammates and adjusting to new schemes to learn. It’s about bonding. It’s also about getting ready to play football at its highest level. The expectations for the Los Angeles Chargers during this training camp is anything less than a playoff bid would simply be not good enough. Tasting the postseason is something the Chargers have not tasted since they lost to the New England Patriots in the 2019 AFC Divisional round. The painful agony of the 2021 season for the Chargers came about in the last four games of the regular season.

Los Angeles Chargers quarterback Justin Herbert (10) taking a snap during training camp practice on Aug. 6, 2022. Photo by Melinda Meijer/News4usonline The Chargers lost three of their last four games-two in overtime, including a 35-32 defeat in the last game of the season to the Las Vegas Raiders that knocked them out of playoff contention. On the first day of training camp, Chargers head coach Brandon Staley talked about that frustration at the end of the season.   “I mean, I didn’t like the way we finished the season, not getting a chance to compete in the tournament — that stayed with me ever since I walked across that field in the last game,” Staley said. “I liked the way we competed as a team in the last four games, but we were 1-3. That’s the facts. We didn’t finish our season, and I think that we’re going to draw a lot of lessons from that.” The Chargers have never played in a Super Bowl. Based on the moves the Chargers made in the offseason to go along with the veteran makeup of the team, this season could very well be the Year of the Bolts. Those expectations were there last season with Brandon Staley operating in his first year as the team’s head coach. Linebacker Troy Reeder knows something about expectations. Reeder was a member of the Los Angeles Rams team that beat the Cincinnati Bengals to win Super Bowl LVI. His biggest takeaway from being with the Rams is that everything begins now with the foundations of training camp.

Things are competitive at training camp. Photo by Melinda Meijer/News4usonline “The biggest thing is you have to be built to go all the way,” Reeder said. “That really starts right now and it seems kind of crazy being that it just turned into August right now. The habits that we’re creating right now are stuff that is going to drive us all the way through September, October, November, and then hopefully into mid-February. Just the little things about what it takes and how to stay healthy and do the right things every single day. I was blessed to be around a group that did do it the right way every day and coming out and competing. I see so many similarities in that here. I think this team has what it takes. We just have to put it all together and keep competing in practice and making each other better.” The Chargers had their moments of success but couldn’t quite sustain it over the long haul of the season, and were denied an appearance in the postseason. Justin Herbert still hasn’t made the postseason. This season should yield different results for the third-year Los Angeles Chargers quarterback. In his rookie season, Herbert was thrust into the starting lineup at a moment's notice after starter Tyrod Taylor went down with an injury just prior to the first game of the regular season in 2020. He hasn’t left the lineup since. Not only has Herbert injected himself as the team’s starting quarterback for the foreseeable future, but he is also now ingrained as the face of the franchise. Since being tapped as the starter, Herbert has done wondrous things with his strong right arm. He’s broken all kinds of NFL records and has a place in the Hall of Fame. This just after only playing two seasons in the NFL. Now in his third season with the Chargers, throwing for a pile of yards and erasing passing marks are not going to cut it anymore for Herbert or for the Chargers. They expect a playoff run this season. “You just have to compete and you have to execute when it matters most,” Herbert quipped. “Unfortunately, we fell short of that, but I think we have the team, and definitely the pieces, it’s all about how we come together and work as a team. I’m looking forward to the challenge, of course, but a lot of great guys here, for sure.” Even though this is Staley’s second season as head coach of the Chargers, Los Angeles has a wealth of talent and depth on both sides of the ball to make that a reality.

Los Angeles Chargers running back Isaiah Spiller (28) hauls in this pass during training camp on Aug. 6, 2022. Photo by Melinda Meijer/News4usonline As the team enters the middle and final stages of training camp with preseason home games against the Los Angeles Rams and Dallas Cowboys, the Chargers have the confidence of a ballclub that has already been there and done that. At training camp, the Chargers are putting in the work to try to formulate that kind of atmosphere. So far, Staley likes what he sees from his team as they work out the wrinkles in preparation for the regular season.    “It’s where it should be through seven practices,” Staley said about the team’s intensity during an Aug. 5 press conference. “You have to build these guys up. You have to build a foundation in pads. I felt like we had two really good days in pads. Then, came back down here in the red area — a really short practice, get an off day, and then come back and have a lot of quality work, then finishing with a scrimmage. That third day, they’re ready to really compete and have a lot of plays and really build some wind. More drives, more substitutions and having to play longer. We’re in that process of building them up.” Read the full article

#Chargers #JustinHerbert #NFL #trainingcamp

[wirehill15]

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[sourwolfandlilred]

Out in west texas, it hardly ever rains

(but when it does, it’s amazing grace)

Stiles Stilinski flipped off the radio, tired of the breathless play-by-play of the Friday night football game. Golden boy quarterback Derek Hale had already scored four touchdowns guaranteeing the “douba-yah”--as it was called around these parts--anyway. 

His jeep bounced along the rutted road as storm clouds gathered in the distance. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, but it would likely burn off before it got to Marfa. 

The church stood sentry on the edge of town, parched dust-cracked earth stretching for miles and miles behind it. Stiles parked the Jeep and headed inside. 

To the piano. 

It was an old model, the C key so worn the ivory dipped where a finger tip would rest. But it played just as pretty as the best grand out there. Stiles didn’t bother with lights, just sat on the bench, and played. 

The thunder accompanied him, a deep bass line that Stiles felt in his chest. By the time he finished the song, his cheeks were damp and the storm had passed. 

***

“You weren’t at the game.”

Stiles slammed his locker and rolled his eyes, side stepping Derek Hale in all his snapback, wanna-be frat boy glory. “While I’m oh-so-flattered that you noticed my absence, me thinks you should get an MRI to check for brain damage if you thought I would show in the first place.”

Derek wasn’t deterred by Stiles’s acid tongue. Instead, he fell in step beside him, despite the fact that Stiles--for reasons he wouldn’t admit to--knew that Derek’s first class was on the opposite side of the school. 

“Would you come if I asked you?”

Stiles stopped abruptly enough to earn himself a curse from the freshmen behind him who hadn’t been expecting. He met Derek’s eyes. “Why would you ask me to?”

The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up, but it was almost self-conscious rather than smug. “Does it matter?”

***

Stiles went to the fucking game.

***

Lydia Martin hosted a party every friday night to fete the celebrities of their podunk town. Stiles had never been to one, though all sixty-three of their classmates were always invited. The place was too small for bullying tactics and popularity contests.

Someone shoved a red solo cup into Stiles’s hands, and he downed half the contents in one swallow. His fingers itched for smooth ivory and he tried to ignore the jittery sensation of looking for someone in particular. 

“Brooooo, you came,” Scott McCall slurred in Stiles’s ear while slinging an arm around his neck. Stiles took the weight of his drunk, pliant body, turning the tackle into a hug. They rocked like that as Stiles laughed. Scott loved everyone and everyone loved Scott, but Scott loved Stiles best. 

“Hey where’s your QB?” Stiles asked as casually as possible, and Scott beamed at him. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle. 

“Gazebo,” Scott waved, flashing all his white teeth so that his eyes squinted into tiny bits of happiness.

Stiles maneuvered him toward Kira and then wove his way through gyrating bodies and couples who had too little sense of what level of PDA was appropriate. 

When Stiles stepped outside, his skin tingled with the electricity in the air. Something was coming. 

Derek was alone, surprisingly. It seemed like he was forever surrounded by fawning groupies, or at the very least his phalanx of ride-or-die friends. Stiles didn’t bother saying hi as he sat on the bench next to him. 

“Did you have fun?” Derek asked as he took a hit on his joint. Golden-boy wasn’t always so golden. 

Stiles let his legs fall apart until their knees touched. “No.”

“But you came.” Derek said, said without looking at him. 

“But I came,” Stiles agreed, plucking the joint out of his loose fingers. Had they been doing this dance for years now? Stiles couldn’t tell. Derek was a part of the landscape as much as the snow-topped mountains in the distance. 

They’d never really been friends. Stiles’s father was the Sheriff, Derek’s mother the lawyer. They had enough crime that it caused friction between the two families. But they weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet, either. They were just two dudes trying to make it out of this god-forsaken town anyway they could. 

For Derek that was football. From the Smurf League when they’d been kindergartners it had been obvious exactly where Derek was headed in life. First draft pick for the NFL. 

For Stiles it was the long-shot Juliard--a dream his mother had passed onto him the day she’d died. 

He and Derek were as different as could be, and yet still... 

Maybe it was the way Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’s mouth when he took a hit. Maybe it was the Stiles let his hand drop to Derek’s thigh after he handed back the joint. 

Something in the back of Stiles’s brain itched, though. Him and Derek? It wasn’t just two queer kids finding each other in bumble-fuck Texas. He just didn’t know what it was. 

“Do you want to play?” Stiles asked, his eyes on the lights from the house. “Professionally I mean.”

“Nah,” Derek shook his head, earning a sharp glance from Stiles. “It’s what I’m good at but... no.” He laughed softly. “I like my brain intact.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Same.”

Derek glanced over. It wasn’t often that Stiles complimented him. Then he lifted one shoulder. They were close enough that it brushed Stiles’s arm. “I’ll use it to pay for college. But I want to be...”

He took a hit instead of continuing, and then handed it over to Stiles. Stiles bumped his knee against Derek’s. “Yeah?”

A blush crawled along Derek’s perfect cheekbones, and Stiles had to look away lest he do something utterly mortifying. 

“I like gardening,” Derek mumbled. “I thought maybe landscape architecture.”

Maybe some version of Stiles would have laughed at the admission. The idea of snap-back wearing, pick-up truck driving, all-American stereotype in the flesh planting daisies should have been funny. 

It wasn’t.

Stiles took a hit. Held the smoke in. Then in one swift move shifted so that he was in Derek’s lap, his knees on either side of Derek’s hips. Derek’s fingers came up, gripped the skin just above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans. 

The moment seemed frozen in time, syrupy and unreal. Stiles leaned in and Derek’s lips parted. Smoke slipped out between them, but in the next moment, Stiles was pressing it into Derek’s mouth. 

Derek breathed it in. Breathed Stiles in, really. 

When they drew apart, Derek’s eyes were wide, almost vulnerable, and Stiles ached with every part of his being. He wanted this to be real. 

So he ran. 

***

The church was as quiet as it always was when Stiles came to practice at the old piano. He made sure of it. 

But for the first time in a long time he didn’t want to play. 

The keys had always offered him an escape, a dreamworld where his mother wasn’t dead, his father wasn’t an alcoholic, and he wasn’t a weird kid who talked too much and dreamed too big for this small Texas town. 

For once, he didn’t want to escape. 

He pressed a thumb to his lower lip, as if he could capture the warmth of Derek there. The way the tip of his tongue had darted out in what had turned into a goodbye. 

“Play for me?” 

Stiles didn’t startle. He’d almost expected Derek to show, though he couldn’t say why.

But you came. But I came. 

Without acknowledging the request, Stiles dropped his fingers onto the keys. Amazing Grace was so easy, he didn’t have to think about it. By the time he finished, Derek was on the bench beside him. “Beautiful.”

Stiles chewed on the inside of his mouth. “My mother taught me how to play.”

A beat. And then, “Do you play because she wanted you to, or do you play because you want to.”

The question struck, like lightning, in the very center of Stiles’s chest. “Does it matter?”

It was a deliberate echo and Derek huffed. “No.” 

Maybe it had seemed like walls going up when that wasn’t the case at all. So Stiles took a breath. “Aren’t all of our lives made up of a combination of that? Expectations and hopes and desires and rational thought and irrational emotions? Her wanting me to play doesn’t mean it’s any less important if it had come from nowhere. It just makes it all the more meaningful that I am doing it, doesn’t it?”

“But what about your life?” Derek asked, and in that moment Stiles realized how much Derek’s trajectory had been guided by other people. 

“It’s not an either or,” Stiles said as carefully as possible. “For me.”

Derek nodded, his eyes on the piano. In the smallest voice Stiles had ever heard him use, he said, “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Stiles nearly laughed at that. But instead he nudged Derek’s shoulder. “No matter what you do, I’m pretty sure it would be impossible for you to disappoint anyone.” He searched for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t dismiss the fear, the ones that wouldn’t add more weight to Derek’s shoulders. “I would be proud of you no matter what you do.”

That blush again, the one that would drive Stiles to distraction. “Play it again for me?”

“Anytime,” Stiles promised and surprised himself by meaning it. 

Outside the clouds opened up and the rain beat against the windows. 

Inside, Derek hooked his ankle around Stiles’s, and the music played.

#sterek #sterek drabble #high school au #football au #stiles #derek hale deserves nice things #sterek fluff #sterek fic

[felassan]

Article: ‘The Most Powerful Woman in Gaming Wants to Make EA Loved Again’

Laura Miele is helping direct the company toward a future where it’s more attuned with consumers.

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

[rest of article under cut for length, pasted as Bloomberg has an article read limit]

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

It’s something many gamers have wondered about EA for years. The $40 billion company, one of the biggest in gaming, is responsible for Battlefield, Madden NFL, and other megahit franchises. But many gamers have long seen EA as a necessary evil, resenting the direction in which it took some games and bristling at its aggressive attempts to extract money by charging extra for digital items in games that cost as much as $70 upfront. This dissatisfaction was no secret in 2018: Gamers spent their days filling up Reddit and other message boards with free advice for EA—but many felt its decision-makers weren’t listening.

EA’s leadership knows it has to improve that relationship, and Miele is a key player in its efforts to do so. Her focus group asked for new content for Star Wars Battlefront II and requested new types of games. Miele quickly assigned 70 people to the Battlefront development project, which dramatically improved its net promoter score, a measure of how likely people are to recommend the game. She also prompted EA to create a skateboarding game and committed to reintroducing its college football franchise, the two genres at the top of the influencers’ list.

In a sense, the guy at the meeting became a stand-in for all of EA’s long-suffering customers in Miele’s eyes. “I wanted to do right by this player,” she says.

As chief studios officer, Miele manages 6,000 staffers and thousands of contractors globally. She oversees EA’s 24 studios, where she makes personnel decisions and sets strategy, and she’s reshaped how the company uses analytics to create and market its games.

In the process she may have become the most powerful woman in gaming. In a 2019 International Game Developers Association survey, fewer than 30% of the more than 1,100 respondents were women, and few if any hold a more central role at such an important company. “It’s a tough place for a woman,” says Peter Moore, who was Miele’s boss when he was EA’s chief operating officer. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but she battled her way through.”

Proving good intentions is more important for EA than ever, as the business model of gaming continues to shift in ways that have the potential to alienate customers. Like its rivals, the company is increasing its focus on free-to-play games, making money through sales of digital products such as outfits and weapons for characters.

There are signs it’s succeeding. Apex Legends, EA’s free-to-play hero shooter game, has posted more than $1 billion in sales since it was first published in 2019, and it continues to grow. “The way to succeed with free-to-play games like that is to listen to and engage your customer base and earn their loyalty through incremental purchases,” says Doug Clinton, managing partner of the venture capital firm Loup Ventures, who says Miele deserves much of the credit for Apex Legends. “It feels like a proof point for her that the company is adapting well beyond traditional disk sales.”

Miele, 51, was born in San Francisco but grew up on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. She got her start in games—the kind that require a board—during family nights, when she pitted herself against her brother in Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, and backgammon. While attending the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, she worked at architectural companies. By the time she dropped out she’d moved on from receptionist positions to more senior roles, while gaining a reputation for organizing lunch-hour card games with her co-workers.

Miele landed a job as a project manager at Westwood Studios, a video game developer best known for Command and Conquer, in 1996. She eventually took over all marketing for its parent company, Virgin Interactive.

It wasn’t always a hospitable atmosphere: Miele remembers her colleagues expecting her to take notes at meetings, then clean up afterward. “That is just not something I would do today,” she says. “I adapted a lot because I was so passionate about what I was doing. I found my voice along the way.”

When EA acquired Westwood in 1998, she stayed on. At the time, the company did revenue forecasting by looking at sales data once a month and putting together spreadsheets by hand. Miele was tasked with developing more advanced analytics. She hired a group of data analysts, nicknamed “the Jedi,” and had them build EA’s first statistical regression models to examine sales trends, seasonality, and preorders. It took almost two years to put the system in place, but it overhauled the company’s business processes, and executives were soon using it to determine how to invest in advertising and promotions. “I loved how data and analytics can inform your judgment and your gut instinct,” Miele says.

Miele also decided to make one major break with EA’s existing business practices. In 2011 about 80% of game advertising budgets were spent on TV ads. But she saw how much time gamers spent online and decided to spend the bulk of the ad budget for Battlefield 3 on digital, downplaying other types of ads and cutting the TV ad budget to only 30%.

Messing around with the plan for Battlefield 3 was a good way to make people nervous. Miele remembers two executives calling her in for a meeting and demanding to know why they weren’t seeing billboards for the game as they drove in to the office. “It was scary for me, too, and I don’t blame our executives questioning me on that,” she says. But the game ended up being EA’s fastest-selling, moving more than 5 million copies in its first week. From that point, Miele’s marketing strategy became the standard for the company.

When EA signed a 10-year deal with Walt Disney Co. in 2013, Miele became Star Wars general manager. In 2014 she took over publishing operations, marketing, and other key areas, first in the North American region, then globally in 2016. At the time, the game industry was moving from physical disks to digital downloads, transforming its relationship with retail partners such as Walmart Inc. and Best Buy Co.

Miele was in charge of smoothing things over, explaining that EA would start competing with them for customers even as the retailers accounted for the largest portion of the revenue. “I never said to them, ‘Hey, see you later, we are moving on,’ ” she says. “It was, ‘How can we move forward together?’ ” EA began making physical cards with digital credits that its retail partners could sell at their stores, allowing them to share in the revenue from digital sales.

EA’s studios are spread around the globe, and Covid-19 altered Miele’s routine radically. “It was a very difficult year, and I’m really proud about how our company showed up,” she says. “I considered myself a wartime leader last year. You had to get in a bunker with everybody.”

Days became an endless progression of Zoom calls. To keep up with gamers, Miele started spending evenings listening to Clubhouse chats while answering work emails. Because she hasn’t been on the road, she’s also had more time to dine at home and play board games or Apex Legends and The Sims with her 16-year-old twins. As the pandemic retreats in the U.S., her schedule might change, but she still envisions providing more flexibility to her employees to work from home and office. “I do think we’re going to have a different work environment as we go forward,” she says.

Miele is itching to get back to the studio visits. She’s helping steer EA further toward smartphones. The company plans to release mobile versions of Apex Legends globally this year and spent $2.1 billion in April for Glu Mobile Inc., a mobile game publisher, while also preparing the next releases in its existing franchises. “I think the next Battlefield and the mobile shooter games, along with how successful the M&As come out will be key litmus tests of her management this year,” says Matt Kanterman, an analyst with Bloomberg Intelligence. “Her scope is clearly rising.”

— With Dina Bass and Jason Schreier

[source]

#video games #interesting.. #long post #longpost

[babbushka]

Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

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

You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.  

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.  

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

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

Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run. 

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I’m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

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

I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

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

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn��t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.  

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

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

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.  

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.  

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.  

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

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

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

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

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

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

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[detectivesvu]

Another Round (pt.2)

__

Rafael Barba x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Part 1 is here :)

Word Count: 1,761

“You’re better than this. You’ve told me before, these things happen.”

__

The next few weeks passed by casually. Your job continued as it always did. New customers as well as your regulars came in for drinks for all kinds of reasons. You didn’t even know it was possible, but you were now enjoying your job so much more than you already did. Especially knowing that Rafael would be in every week. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or not, but he seemed to be coming in more and more often.

You had to admit, you were growing rather fond of him and very quickly to say the least. Suddenly, you found yourself hoping to see him every time the door to the bar opened. Every straight scotch you served to other customers was known in your mind as “Rafael’s usual”. You had a connection with him that you wanted to explore. Which is why you had taken him up on his offer. The morning after your first real encounter with him, you sent him a simple text. It didn’t establish anything serious. It was just a plain “good morning” text with a little sweet message thanking him for taking the time from his busy workload to chat with you. 

You had expected to get a response later that afternoon, considering that his mornings were probably extremely hectic. However, you were pleasantly surprised when you received a reply only a few short minutes after. He returned the thanks and began a little small talk conversation along with a few more get to know you questions to break the through-the-screen ice. It wasn’t until the next day that you began discussing plans to possibly get dinner sometime. He wasn’t shy to admit that he wanted to take you on a proper date once things settled down within the case he was still plugging away at. 

Your schedules differed heavily. You worked ungodly late hours and he was never really off the clock. If he was working, you were off and if you were working, he was semi-off. So, for now, your in person interactions were limited to the bar you considered your second home. That was fine for now, but eventually you’d tire of only seeing him at your place of work. You couldn’t wait until this case was over. 

He had mentioned briefly in one of your text conversations that in many aspects of his life, his work was above all else. You didn’t love that statement for a couple of reasons. For starters, how would that affect your relationship if you decided to pursue something serious? Secondly, how serious was he willing to take things between you and him? And lastly, that made you extremely worried for him as a whole. You couldn’t imagine always feeling like the bottom could drop out at any given moment. You wondered how many forgotten dinners and lovers he had previously.

Despite your concerns, the way you felt about him seemed to outweigh anything else. A testament to this was when he walked into the bar around 9:00 PM on Thursday night. It was particularly busy for a regular weekday. Naturally, Fridays and Saturdays were when you were slammed with customers. You usually had to have a partner behind the bar with you to stay on top of things. You were busy, but not so much that you failed to see him enter through the door.

You smiled brightly, a warm sensation tingling through your limbs. Your smile was quick to fade, however, when you saw his drooped shoulders and blank expression. You were puzzled at this, because he had been perfectly fine earlier in the day. He took an available seat at the middle of the bar, offering a slight smile once you were able to tend to him.

“Hey, Rafael,” You greeted cheerily, but with a worried tone; “You okay?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was caught to the TV that was above you. The late night news was on and your heart sank at the headline. Barba had lost the case he had been working on for so long. He buried his face into his palms and groaned;

“Turn it off. Change the channel. Anything, please.” He begged.

You reached for the remote under the bar, switching to some Thursday night NFL game. The other men in the bar cheered at the sight, which was good because they’d be content until their beers emptied out. You had a couple minutes until then.

“I’m sorry, Raf.” You comforted.

His heart skipped a beat at the use of his nickname, but even that wasn’t enough to boost his spirits. He shook his head in defeat, watching as you poured him a scotch straight without any previous instruction.

“I really thought we had it. I really did,” He confessed, taking the glass into his hand; “I should have won. The damn defense can go to hell for all I care.”

You shifted your weight onto one hip, hand pressed, and arm extended against the bar. What else were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much experience with lawyers fresh off of a hard loss. He looked so tired and so empty. His hair was tousled out of its usual neatness. The dark circles under his eyes were much more prominent. Overall, he just looked so...disappointed.

“Rafael,” You began to say, stunned at how hard he was beating himself up; “You’re better than this. You’ve told me before, these things happen.”

It was true. The week after he had asked you about your favorite story, you decided to cautiously ask him about his. Shockingly, it was the first case that he had lost as an attorney. Of course, he had not wanted to lose. Not even at all. But he told you how he worked sun up to sun down to make sure the defendant went down for what he did. In the end, the guy walked free. As discouraged as he was, he explained how he learned a lot about life just by that experience alone. He told how he suddenly realized that there were two sides to his profession. One of them was never pretty.

He sipped his scotch, eyes trained on the amber colored liquid as he let it swirl around the sides and splash back into the center. His head was lowered as he let himself become consumed with what ifs.

“Please, listen to me,” You requested softly. You continued once his eyes were on you; “You did absolutely everything you could. This isn’t a reflection of your abilities as a counselor.”

He was quick with his answer, but no change to his expression;

“Isn’t it, though?” He asked.

“No, it’s not. One loss doesn’t-”

You were interrupted by a loud voice calling for a refill at the other side of the bar. Looks like your couple minutes were up. You put your conversation on pause, briskly walking to the man with the empty beer mug. 

“Same as before?” You questioned the man with a hospitable smile. 

He confirmed your question as refilled his mug as well as the other men in need of refills. Rafael watched intently as you interacted with the other customers. You had quite the undeniable charm and outgoing personality. No wonder you had so many regular customers. He had been thinking about you pretty much every free second he had. He wanted to learn all about you. He was amazed with how content you were with working at a bar. Customer service workers? Not always the happiest people on the planet. 

He adored your positivity. He couldn’t wrap his head around how caring you were towards complete strangers that walked into your bar everyday. How you were able to know when someone had a terrible burden on their conscience was a mystery to him. He found himself wondering if you ever took the time to check on and take care of yourself. How did you handle the weight of the problems of others that you took on without hesitation?

You returned to Rafael shortly after;

“As I was saying: one loss doesn’t define you. You’ll move on from this with time. You’ll heal with it. Then you’ll be ready to bury the next guy.” You encouraged.

For the first time all day, Rafael offered a real smile. One that was like a window to see into the real man with a heart of gold. He was an amazing human being. If only everyone could be like him.

“You have a lot of faith in a man just coming from a brutal loss.” He stated.

You grinned;

“Of course. I have the utmost confidence in my favorite counselor.” 

His cheeks went red at your kind words. As incompetent as he felt in this moment, hearing you so proud of him was heartwarming. You refilled his empty glass and tended to the other customers at the bar for a few minutes. He watched as you bounced expertly from person to person, mixing drinks like you did it in your sleep. As the even later hours were approaching, the more and more your conversation was being interrupted. Your busy part of the shift was coming fast, so he had to act fast.

“When is your next night off?” Rafael asked over the loud hum of the now crowded bar.

You had a shaker in one hand and a glass in the other, your eyes darted to the ceiling in thought before responding;

“Sunday. Why?” You replied back, hoping he was about to ask what you thought he was about to.

“How about dinner on Sunday? Just you and me.” He offered a real date.

Your smile returned brighter than ever as you poured the drink from the shaker into the glass;

“Sure. 6:30?” You suggested.

He grimaced, but gave a rebuttal back;

“How about 7:00?” 

“Deal. It’s a date,” You agreed; “Italian?”

He shrugged;

“Fine by me,” He smiled; “See you then.”

You nodded, dancing over to the opposite end of the bar to continue working. Whether it was the rush from all the customers around the bar or the joy from finally being able to go on a date, your heart was racing in your chest. He exited the bar after smiling at you once more and leaving a tip. He walked down the sidewalk away from your bar, head full and heart happy. He left you behind with a hard blush along with your bottles, glasses, cups, and more. 

It was just the beginning for the counselor and his favorite bar tech.

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