#vancouver payroll

[mehracpa]

In the realm of financial intricacies, understanding the nuances of tax deductions from your vancouver payroll can be as challenging as deciphering a cryptic code. Whether you're a seasoned professional or a newcomer to the workforce in British Columbia, comprehending the intricacies of payroll deductions is crucial for informed financial planning. In this blog, we have delivered the specifics of how much tax is deducted from your paycheck in British Columbia, equipping you with the knowledge to navigate this often perplexing terrain.

Read blog:- https://mehracpa.weebly.com/blog/unveiling-the-secrets-how-tax-deductions-impact-your-paycheck-in-british-columbia

[transcounts0]

THE TOP PAYROLL SERVICES IN TORONTO

Running a small business is rewarding, but it also comes with a lot of administrative tasks. Payroll and bookkeeping are two crucial yet time-consuming aspects that can quickly become overwhelming. Whether you require payroll services in Toronto or bookkeeping support in Vancouver, Transcounts is your one-stop shop for all your business needs. We offer a personalized approach, ensuring our services cater to your specific requirements and budget.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, “convenience” isn’t the problem

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Using Amazon, or Twitter, or Facebook, or Google, or Doordash, or Uber doesn't make you lazy. Platform capitalism isn't enshittifying because you made the wrong shopping choices.

Remember, the reason these corporations were able to capture such substantial market-share is that the capital markets saw them as a bet that they could lose money for years, drive out competition, capture their markets, and then raise prices and abuse their workers and suppliers without fear of reprisal. Investors were chasing monopoly power, that is, companies that are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

The tactics that let a few startups into Big Tech are illegal under existing antitrust laws. It's illegal for large corporations to buy up smaller ones before they can grow to challenge their dominance. It's illegal for dominant companies to merge with each other. "Predatory pricing" (selling goods or services below cost to prevent competitors from entering the market, or to drive out existing competitors) is also illegal. It's illegal for a big business to use its power to bargain for preferential discounts from its suppliers. Large companies aren't allowed to collude to fix prices or payments.

But under successive administrations, from Jimmy Carter through to Donald Trump, corporations routinely broke these laws. They explicitly and implicitly colluded to keep those laws from being enforced, driving smaller businesses into the ground. Now, sociopaths are just as capable of starting small companies as they are of running monopolies, but that one store that's run by a colossal asshole isn't the threat to your wellbeing that, say, Walmart or Amazon is.

All of this took place against a backdrop of stagnating wages and skyrocketing housing, health, and education costs. In other words, even as the cost of operating a small business was going up (when Amazon gets a preferential discount from a key supplier, that supplier needs to make up the difference by gouging smaller, weaker retailers), Americans' disposable income was falling.

So long as the capital markets were willing to continue funding loss-making future monopolists, your neighbors were going to make the choice to shop "the wrong way." As small, local businesses lost those customers, the costs they had to charge to make up the difference would go up, making it harder and harder for you to afford to shop "the right way."

In other words: by allowing corporations to flout antimonopoly laws, we set the stage for monopolies. The fault lay with regulators and the corporate leaders and finance barons who captured them – not with "consumers" who made the wrong choices. What's more, as the biggest businesses' monopoly power grew, your ability to choose grew ever narrower: once every mom-and-pop restaurant in your area fires their delivery drivers and switches to Doordash, your choice to order delivery from a place that payrolls its drivers goes away.

Monopolists don't just have the advantage of nearly unlimited access to the capital markets – they also enjoy the easy coordination that comes from participating in a cartel. It's easy for five giant corporations to form conspiracies because five CEOs can fit around a single table, which means that some day, they will:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

By contrast, "consumers" are atomized – there are millions of us, we don't know each other, and we struggle to agree on a course of action and stick to it. For "consumers" to make a difference, we have to form institutions, like co-ops or buying clubs, or embark on coordinated campaigns, like boycotts. Both of these tactics have their place, but they are weak when compared to monopoly power.

Luckily, we're not just "consumers." We're also citizens who can exercise political power. That's hard work – but so is organizing a co-op or a boycott. The difference is, when we dog enforcers who wield the power of the state, and line up behind them when they start to do their jobs, we can make deep structural differences that go far beyond anything we can make happen as consumers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

We're not just "consumers" or "citizens" – we're also workers, and when workers come together in unions, they, too, can concentrate the diffuse, atomized power of the individual into a single, powerful entity that can hold the forces of capital in check:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

And all of these things work together; when regulators do their jobs, they protect workers who are unionizing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And strong labor power can force cartels to abandon their plans to rig the market so that every consumer choice makes them more powerful:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

And when consumers can choose better, local, more ethical businesses at competitive rates, those choices can make a difference:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/10/view-a-sku/

Antimonopoly policy is the foundation for all forms of people-power. The very instant corporations become too big to fail, jail or care is the instant that "voting with your wallet" becomes a waste of time.

Sure, choose that small local grocery, but everything on their shelves is going to come from the consumer packaged-goods duopoly of Procter and Gamble and Unilever. Sure, hunt down that local brand of potato chips that you love instead of P&G or Unilever's brand, but if they become successful, either P&G or Unilever will buy them out, and issue a press release trumpeting the purchase, saying "We bought out this beloved independent brand and added it to our portfolio because we know that consumers value choice."

If you're going to devote yourself to solving the collective action problem to make people-power work against corporations, spend your precious time wisely. As Zephyr Teachout writes in Break 'Em Up, don't miss the protest march outside the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an independent stationery so you could buy the markers and cardboard to make your anti-Amazon sign without shopping on Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

When blame corporate power on "laziness," we buy into the corporations' own story about how they came to dominate our lives: we just prefer them. This is how Google explains away its 90% market-share in search: we just chose Google. But we didn't, not really – Google spends tens of billions of dollars every single year buying up the search-box on every website, phone, and operating system:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Blaming "laziness" for corporate dominance also buys into the monopolists' claim that the only way to have convenient, easy-to-use services is to cede power to them. Facebook claims it's literally impossible for you to carry on social relations with the people that matter to you without also letting them spy on you. When we criticize people for wanting to hang out online with the people they love, we send the message that they need to choose loneliness and isolation, or they will be complicit in monopoly.

The problem with Google isn't that it lets you find things. The problem with Facebook isn't that it lets you talk to your friends. The problem with Uber isn't that it gets you from one place to another without having to stand on a corner waving your arm in the air. The problem with Amazon isn't that it makes it easy to locate a wide variety of products. We should stop telling people that they're wrong to want these things, because a) these things are good; and b) these things can be separated from the monopoly power of these corporate bullies:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/08/divisibility/#technognosticism

Remember the Napster Wars? The music labels had screwed over musicians and fans. 80 percent of all recorded music wasn't offered for sale, and the labels cooked the books to make it effectively impossible for musicians to earn out their advances. Napster didn't solve all of that (though they did offer $15/user/month to the labels for a license to their catalogs), but there were many ways in which it was vastly superior to the system it replaced.

The record labels responded by suing tens of thousands of people, mostly kids, but also dead people and babies and lots of other people. They demanded an end to online anonymity and a system of universal surveillance. They wanted every online space to algorithmically monitor everything a user posted and delete anything that might be a copyright infringement.

These were the problems with the music cartel: they suppressed the availability of music, screwed over musicians, carried on a campaign of indiscriminate legal terror, and lobbied effectively for a system of ubiquitous, far-reaching digital surveillance and control:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

You know what wasn't a problem with the record labels? The music. The music was fine. Great, even.

But some of the people who were outraged with the labels' outrageous actions decided the problem was the music. Their answer wasn't to merely demand better copyright laws or fairer treatment for musicians, but to demand that music fans stop listening to music from the labels. Somehow, they thought they could build a popular movement that you could only join by swearing off popular music.

That didn't work. It can't work. A popular movement that you can only join by boycotting popular music will always be unpopular. It's bad tactics.

When we blame "laziness" for tech monopolies, we send the message that our friends have to choose between life's joys and comforts, and a fair economic system that doesn't corrupt our politics, screw over workers, and destroy small, local businesses. This isn't true. It's a lie that monopolists tell to justify their abuse. When we repeat it, we do monopolists' work for them – and we chase away the people we need to recruit for the meaningful struggles to build worker power and political power.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/12/give-me-convenience/#or-give-me-death

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[justmeinatree]

03 - Made Of Something New : UK

Summary : you meet niall in your hotel bar. and there’s an intense connection.

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, choking, cheating (not on you, but none the less)

Word Count : 6.5k

Series Masterlist

GIF : @horansqueen

June 16th - London, UK

“hey ! girl, guess what !?” you hear your coworker yelling at you excitedly as she tries to catch up to you.

you were heading back to your hotel room, walking down the long hallway in some fancy, high rise in london. your coworker was at the other end of the hallway, making her way towards you, causing quite the scene with the few other guests in the hall.

“what’s up ?” you chuckle as she runs past everyone else and finally catches up to you, waving some papers around in your face.

“i had a great presentation with some ceo’s today. they gave me two tickets to a concert tonight as a reward of sorts,” she hops around excitedly as you try your best to catch any info from the papers she’s flapping around.

“that’s amazing ! who are you seeing ?,” you chuckle, happy for her. she deserved this, she’s been working hard lately, trying to make a name for herself with the company you both work at. “and more importantly, who are you taking ?” you ask suggestively, knowing she’s surely taking you. unless she wants to go to a show with one of the 70+ year olds travelling with you on this trip.

she gives you an eye roll, giggling, “think i’m gonna take charles, he needs a night out on the town.” you laugh loudly, knowing full well that charles is in no state to go to a show. he’s the oldest man on the payroll, can barely take a few steps without stopping to lean on his cane. 

“you’re coming with me, of course. i hope you brought something other than work clothes, we’re going to see niall horan !” she exclaims animatedly.

hearing his name makes you stop cold, your eyes going wide. you remember that night like it was yesterday. if you close your eyes and really think about it, you can still feel the trail of fiery heat his fingertips traced over your skin. 

it’s been just over 5 weeks now, since that fateful night in vancouver. waking up to your alarm that morning, was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. niall’s soft sleepy breaths made your chest achingly heavy. you remember gently running your fingertips down the side of his face, making his eyes flutter open.

you will never be able to forget the content sigh that puffed out from between his sleep dry lips as his eyes made contact with yours. as they flutter shut again, the brightness of the early sun a little too harsh in his sleepy state, his tongue darts out to wet to his lips. a raspy “good morning petal,” escaping under his breath as his lips curl up into a small smile.

“are you okay ?” you hear your coworker asking, snapping you out of your thoughts. “do you hate his music or something ? if that’s the problem, please come anyway. we can get proper drunk and have a good laugh ? i just really don’t want to go alone.”

“hey, no sorry, good god stop rambling,” you laugh, giving your head a shake and taking a breath. “no, no i do like him. his music, i mean. i think you just surprised me there, sorry,” you attempt to brush off your little moment. “wouldn’t have thought that our company had niall horan tickets to giveaway.”

you firm up the details of when you’ll both meet in the lobby, still giving you plenty of time to get ready. when you finally have alone time in your room, you take a moment to gather up your thoughts. never in a million years had you thought you’d be in the same room as niall again. you had honestly figured you’d avoid going to his shows just because it might be too painful to see him there. see him and know that you can’t do anything about it. see him and have him not even know you were there, felt almost bizarre. like you were cheating him in some way. 

but you couldn’t think about that too much, you honestly just wanted to see him again. torture yourself for god knows what reason. fuck it, maybe you should get drunk for this.

as you shower, fix up your hair and makeup, and get dressed, you help yourself to a few of the tiny liquor bottles from the hotel room bar. the company is paying for it anyway. you’re just tipsy enough to not have too much anxiety about tonight as you head down to the lobby, meeting up with your friend.

you both get into an uber, the car dropping you off at the arena. you follow her through the crowd as she has the tickets and knows where she’s going. you never asked where the seats were, but you start to grow a bit nervous as she’s leading you towards the floor.

“hey, i never asked where we’re sitting,” you hum knowing full well you should have asked earlier. you did not mentally prepare for this. why on earth does your company have such great seats to niall horan ?

“fifth row, right by the centre,” she smiles excitedly, leading you right up front as your heart beats right out of your chest. there is absolutely no way he won’t see you now. 

what is he going to think ? that i’m stalking him now ? we agreed, just one night in the hotel in vancouver. that was it. just a little taste of what could never be. and although we never stated that we’d try to avoid each other, you just kind of assumed that was a given. 

it was so intense with niall, there were so many feelings involved, for both of you. you knew avoiding him was the best solution. neither of you could handle seeing each other again. could hide out in the bathroom all night, you think to yourself.

just as that thought seemed to grow more and more tempting, the lights drop, the crowd starts screaming and the first strums of a guitar can be heard blaring through the room. and that’s when the stage lights up, niall walking right out, front and centre, to the mic stand, screaming out a “hello london.”

he’s there. he’s right there. and he’s just as beautiful. and oh my did you ever miss his voice. listening to him sing the first verse has you in a trance. you watch his skin glowing under the lights of the stage and your fingertips are itching to feel him.

as you hear his voice bellowing through the speakers, you feel shivers down your neck as you can picture his lips ghosting your skin, whispering in your ear.

with time though, you start to vibe with the crowd and as more and more songs go by, the more you relax. maybe you can get away with not being spotted ? it would make this so much easier on both of you.

but as luck would have it, on the 7th song of the set, his eyes scan the crowd and fall right on yours. he doesn’t think twice at first, eyes scanning right by. but you see the double take, you notice the moment it clicked and there he is, staring right at you. 

niall can’t believe what he’s seeing. it’s you. really you. how hasn’t he noticed you yet ? what are you doing here ? who the hell cares, you’re right there. he’s trying to focus on the song, and it’s almost over, but christ, you are right there. 

he grabs his guitar for the next song, and as he grips the neck, his fingers curled up on the strings, he’s taken back to that night. as his eyes keep flicking back to you, almost as if to make sure this isn’t a hallucination, he can feel your skin under his hands. remembers how much you loved his fingers wrapped around your neck. how tight your pussy squeezed down on his cock when he did. thank god he’s keeping the guitar for another couple songs, it can hide the situation happening in his pants.

not a day has gone by that he hasn’t thought about you. thought about how much he misses you. thought about how much of an idiot he was to not at least ask for your number. he knows he shouldn’t have a way of contacting you, you’d be too hard to resist. but still, having the option would be nice sometimes. especially on the days he needs to escape from it all.

and what the fuck is he supposed to do today ? this is the O2, he’s got some friends here, christ even his girlfriend is here. and even if they weren’t, there is absolutely no way for him to talk to you. pause the show to say hi, meet me backstage ? no that’s not possible. so what’s he supposed to do ? pretend this isn’t happening ? pretend you’re not less than 30 feet away from him ?

as the show nears the end, his heart grows heavy, knowing that yes, he does have to pretend he didn’t just see you and he has to go back to his friends and girlfriend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight. and he absolutely hates himself for hating that. this is supposed to be a great night to share with his favourite people. a celebration because he’s playing the O2, all by himself. it’s his name in lights and it’s fucking epic.

but all he can think about is how badly he wants to celebrate with you. he wishes that you were the one about to head off backstage to greet him with open arms when this song finishes. but it’s not you, it’s his girlfriend and his friends, he can see them from the corner of his eye. 

and for a split moment, he wishes he was strong enough to send it all to hell and make a huge public display of love to you. but his management would kill him, his girlfriend would be super embarrassed, and you both would probably piss yourselves. and just like that the lights are out. the show is over and even if he actually really wanted to, the chance has slipped away. 

he’s being rushed off stage, tons of people patting his back and high-fiving him and then the arms of his girlfriend catch him in a big sweaty hug. they sway back and forth from left to right as she excitedly squeezes him. and for a split second, he hates her ocean breeze shampoo and wishes he was smelling your sweet strawberry scented hair. this is gonna be a long night, he thinks to himself. 

“fuck this is gonna be a very long night,” you mumble to yourself as you’re now back in your hotel room. the show was great, niall was great, of course, of course. but you saw him so so close and his voice was ringing in your ears for over an hour and a half. and now you’re supposed to just sit here. 

and so that’s what you did. just sat on the bed, still in the outfit you wore to the show. just dangling your feet off the side of the mattress as you’re a bit too short to reach the floor. your mind is in an absolute fog, just whirling every imaginable thought of niall. churning up every memory you have of that night. it’s all you have to hold onto.

the raspiness of his voice, the thickness of his accent, the fluffiness of his hair, fiery heat of his touch, soft drag of his lips, needy nibbles of his teeth, roughness of his calloused fingers, tightness of his hand around your throat. he’s all you can think of, your body is consumed by him. so fuck, maybe it was a bad idea to go to his show.

your phone buzzes next to you, an instagram notification catches your attention as you notice that it’s been almost 2 hours since you sat down on the bed. you shake your head, a bit embarrassed that so much time has gone by, grabbing your phone and flicking over to instagram.

you have a message request from an account you don’t recognize. curiosity getting the best of you, you open the message : “hello petal. can’t believe you were there tonight. i couldn’t forgive myself if i didn’t try to reach out to you. miss you. -nh”

could it really be him ? you ask yourself. although, really, no one else knew you were at the show. no one else calls you petal. and even less people knew that there was any type of history between you and niall. 

you write back : “fuck, it’s really you, isn’t it ? i didn’t mean to ambush you tonight by being there. it was a fluke really. but i’m so glad you reached out, miss you more than i can explain. -xx”

your smile could rip your face in half, it’s so big. niall’s writing back, the three little dots floating up and down at the bottom of your phone screen. “it’s really me love, promise. where are you ? i can try to sneak away from this party. maybe what happens in canada doesn’t have to stay in canada ? -nh”

niall had to try. in the last few hours since the show’s been over, he’s plastered a smile on his face, shared beers with his friends, cuddled up with his girlfriend and partied away. but the longer it goes by, the harder it is to pretend anymore. 

knowing that you’re in the same city, it’s enough to make him sick with want for you. so he does the only thing he can think of. he excuses himself to the bathroom, locks the door behind him, and opens his instagram. he switches over to his private account and does a general search for your name. after looking through a dozen accounts, there you are. it’s so obviously you. and although niall’s only spent a matter of hours with you, he can feel you radiating off the random photos he’s looking at.

so he chances writing you a message. the odds are horrible that you’ll see the message tonight, it’s somewhere between 2 & 3am, but he needs to try. he’ll forever regret not trying. so when he gets the message with your hotel and room number, he splashes water on his face, and walks right out of the bathroom. 

ignoring everyone at the party, he heads straight for the door, making a quick escape without anyone noticing. he quickly whistles down a cab, jumps in and he’s off to your hotel. or more importantly, he’s off to you.

as niall’s sitting in the taxi, he can’t believe he’s just left everyone, his girlfriend, his best mates for a chance at a quick encounter with you. he’s panicking. this feels like crossing the line. a hell of a lot more than last time. this is actively seeking you, and leaving his life behind tonight, without so much as a goodbye. people will probably worry, especially his girlfriend. and yet, he cant quite bring himself to care. he’s just much too excited to see you.

the moment you send niall your location, you quickly got up off the bed, go to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. what did he mean when he said it doesn’t have to be a one off ? your mind can’t stop whirling around that message. what does he want ? what’s going to happen ? you’re so excited to see him, for real, touch him, feel him close again. but you’re a little nervous this time. you know a talk is coming up and you’re not sure how it’s going to go. not sure how you want it go honestly.

you brush your teeth for good measure, take a big gulp of water and that’s when you hear the knocking at your door. you straighten out, taking one big breath before padding over to the door and opening it, revealing niall with his hair mussed up, his eyes sparkling back at you as his smile grows more and more the longer he’s looking at you. “beautiful girl,” he mumbles under his breath, a content sigh leaving his mouth as he wonders why the hell he felt any nerves about meeting you. your presence just makes everything okay, he should know that by now. and as scary as it is, he revels in it. 

“gonna let me in,” he chuckles lightly, making you blush. you were so busy admiring him, all of your previous nervousness washing away as you feel his energy right in front of you. 

“fuck, sorry sorry, c’mon in,” you giggle, stepping aside, niall making his way past you, as you close the door behind him with a gentle click. turning to face him, you aren’t sure how you should react, what it is you’re allowed to do. this time feels so different.

but all he does is smile with a light chuckle, his arms opening up wide, as a sort of beckoning call. you scurry into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as he engulfs you into a tight hug, burying his face into your hair, taking a good steady inhale. and he’s absolutely ecstatic to find that you haven’t changed shampoo in the last month. so much better than ocean breeze, he thinks to himself.

your face is buried into his chest, feeling any stress just melt away. it’s the first moment you notice how unnerving this day has been. all the stress of going to the show, coming back alone, your whirring thoughts, it’s been a lot and you hadn’t quite realized how much it was affecting you until it’s all whooshed away.

as you both finally pull away from the hug, one of niall’s hands comes up to cup your jaw, thumb gently stroking your cheek bone, quietly asking the question he’s had on his mind all this time. “did ya really miss me as much as you said ?”

and as soon as the words leave his mouth he feels like an idiot, especially hearing your soft giggle. but the embarrassment vanishes as quickly as it appeared when you grip the collar of his shirt, pulling him in slowly, until your noses are pressed together and your lips are just ghosting his. you mumble against his mouth a quick, “m’i allowed to kiss you ?”

before the full sentence is even out of your mouth, niall’s lips are pressed firmly against yours. his one hand slides over from your jaw, cupping the back of your neck, fingers tangled into your hair, tugging slightly. his other hand grips into your hip, having lifted your shirt just enough to for his palm to collide with your flesh. fuck, you’re so soft, so warm, sending an electrifying buzz through his hand from the contact he’s so desperately missed.

“you’ve no idea how bad i missed you,” you murmur against his lips, niall taking the opportunity to dart his tongue out into your mouth.

niall drags his fingertips lightly from your neck, down between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, settling on your other hip. he can’t stop kissing you, can’t get enough. the drag of your lips against his, the little bit of suction, it’s so much you and it’s overwhelming. his brain feels foggy. in this moment, nothing else matters, nothing else exists. he’s not sure whether to love that or be completely scared of it.

his thumbs give your skin a soft little rub before his hands travel over the swell of your ass, gripping the back of your thighs as he picks you up, walking you backwards towards the bed. 

you groan softly as he bites on your lip, letting you down gently on the bed. he wastes no time crawling up to you, his lips attaching to your neck. he takes his time, pecking, sucking, nibbling, indulging in all the pretty sounds you’re making.

“can we catch up later ?” you hear niall mumbling against your ear. “need to do this now, need to feel you again petal, please.”

a deep groan works its way up your throat as your hips roll into him, silently giving him your answer. the weight of him on top of you is so comforting, it’s what your body’s been craving.

you’ve naturally gotten yourself off quite a bit in the 5 weeks since the last time you saw niall. always with the thought of him sneaking into your brain. but it was nothing compared to actually feeling him. and that’s when you realize you’re both wearing way too much clothes.

you tug on his shirt, murmuring a quick “off, now, please.” 

niall gives you another peck on the lips, lifting his body just enough to grip the back of his shirt and lifting it over his head in a quick swoop, shimmying out of his pants at the same time.

“same goes for you beautiful girl, wanna feel that soft skin of yours,” he hums, his hands gliding from your hips up to your breasts, lifting your shirt in the process. 

you raise your arms, allowing niall to take your shirt off completely. he leans back, his bum settled on his calves, between your legs as he admires you. his fingertips graze over your bra covered chest and down your stomach. he watches the goosebumps arise on your skin, taking in every dip and curve in your body. 

“you’re fucking intoxicating petal,” he murmurs, making you blush. niall notices the shade of red tinting your cheeks, left hand coming up to cup your face.

you lean into his hand, turning your face just enough to leave a series of small pecks into his palm, mumbling quietly, “you make me feel so fuckin good.” and it was true. you dont remember a time where someone’s made you feel quite as special and wanted as niall makes you feel. 

“hmm, m’about to make you feel even better,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again and again. he really can’t get enough of kissing you. 

niall gets your pants off, with a bit of a struggle, refusing to stop kissing you even for a second. “finally,” he grumbles into the kiss once your pants are off all the way.

you giggle, biting his lip playfully as niall rolls his hips into yours. you feel the outline his cock so well with just your underwear on. can feel the head of cock bumping against your clit.

“already so fuckin wet for me, can feel it through my briefs,” niall hums, the wet patch on your panties soaking right through his last piece of clothing. 

“please niall,” you moan against his lips, one hand reaching down to grab a hold of his cock. “please, can i taste you ? been dying to have you in my mouth. didn’t get to last time. please,” you mumble, absolutely not letting that opportunity pass up again. you needed the weight of him on your tongue. needed to hear all the sounds you could pull from him with your mouth.

“fuckin christ pup, want it that bad ?” he asks completely besides himself. never has he had someone literally beg to have his cock in their mouth. without a second thought, niall rolls you both over, his back colliding with the mattress, leaving you on top of him.

“m’all yours pretty girl,” niall hums, smiling and relaxing back into the bed. he notices the darkness taking over your eyes, noting that although you seem to be on the more submissive side, you also like little opportunities of control.

you settle yourself between niall’s thighs, taking your time kissing over his body. your tongue flicking out to wet his nipples whenever you’re close to them, blowing some cold air to watch them harden. you love the deep chesty groan he lets out whenever the coolness hits his spit wet skin.

you kiss over his chest and tummy, fingertips tickling his skin lightly, watching his stomach twitch under your touch. making your way down to his briefs, your fingers grip into the waistband, pulling them down his thighs. his cock springs free, looking achingly hard as he wiggles his legs to help you pull his underwear off completely.

on your way back up his body, you lick a long stripe over his balls, up his shaft and to the tip, opening up your mouth and taking him all the way down your throat. 

niall’s hand goes flying down to your head, gripping onto your hair as he moans out, “oh fucking -. shit. you’re so good for me.”

you pull up to the head of his cock, taking a deep breath through your nose, your tongue working on the underside of his shaft as you slowly bob your head. 

you moan around his dick, loving every moment of it. you knew you were good at sucking guys off, it’s one of your many talents. you enjoy it too, love hearing their moans for you. 

but finally getting a chance at niall. a chance you were sure was never ever going to happen. it was better than anything you could have imagined. he sounds so fucked for you. plus, he’s heavier on your tongue than you imagined, you’re head is spinning with it. his tight grip in your hair, reminding you that even if you’re having your fun right now, he’s still in charge here.

he lets out a particularly loud moan as your tongue ring collides with the underside of his tip, the sound making your pussy clench. and as much as you loved having your mouth on him, you needed him. needed him now. you tug your panties off, your mouth sliding off his cock in one quick motion.

niall looks down in shock, eyebrows furrowed, “what the, why did ya -“ words getting caught around a moan as you reposition yourself and sink down on him. his cock stretching you so deliciously, you’re left trembling as you sit on him fully.

his hands reach out, gripping onto your thighs, “shit pup, warn a guy next time yeah ?” he hums, eyes raking over your body, hands roaming your legs and hips.

you nod, smiling, knowing that’s just an expression. but your tummy still flips at the thought of next time. “promise,” you murmur, taking your time with him. your hips move over him slowly, feeling the drag of him against your inner walls. your moans coming out in small puffs, one hand gripping into your breast, just needing something to latch onto.

niall watches you, small moans leaving his parted lips. his nails are lightly raking over your thighs, taking you in. the moment is so sensual, the air in the room thick with emotion. there’s something about a second time. there’s less guessing involved, less nerves.

he notices the furrow in your brow as his cock hits a particular spot inside you, your tummy twitching, head rolling back. his hands travel up your hips to your waist, one hand splaying across your stomach, feeling the muscles twitch when his cock slowly grinds against your sweet spot.

“feeling good petal ?” he asks quietly as to not startle you, the moment so deep and slow and full of breathy moans and whimpers.

your head lolls back over your left shoulder, slumping forward a bit, eyes opening and locking with his. niall feels your stomach muscles twitching as your eyes make contact with his, and he needs to kiss you. he’s feeling so many emotions, unsure how to handle the jumble in his head. especially considering all of his blood is rushing to his cock, leaving his brain a bit fuzzy.

you nod and whimper a breathy “fuck yes” to answer his question, as his hands leave your body momentarily to press against the mattress. niall leans up into a sitting position, his hands gliding up your thighs and wrapping around your waist.

you smile at him, arms reaching out to wrap around his neck, resting your forehead against his. the new position has added tons of pressure to your clit as you grind on him, feeling that familiar warmth building in your lower tummy.

niall rubs his nose against yours, kissing you with as much emotion as he can muster. he can feel your walls start to tighten around him, knows your orgasm is starting to build. your kiss is getting sloppy, jaw going slack as niall pecks and nibbles on your lips. 

he can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, your thighs trembling, as your grip on his hair tugs achingly harder. without a second thought, one of niall’s hands glides up your body and finds a familiar spot around your neck, silently asking you for permission.

you whimper out a yes, niall biting your bottom lip, groaning against your mouth, “with all this whimpering, you really are acting like a puppy.” as the words leave his mouth, his hand tightens around your neck, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. your eyes roll back as your orgasm crashes over you. 

his words has your mind racing, plus the feel of his hand restricting your airflow, the burning coil in your stomach snapped. it didn’t stand a chance. you’re sure you blacked out for a moment, the orgasm hitting like a strong ocean wave that takes you under and hurtles you out into the sea. 

you blink your eyes open, niall’s lips pecking over the side of your neck, his hand cupping the other side, thumb stroking the column of your throat. “should see how amazing you look when you cum like that,” niall murmurs against your ear, adding to his mental note to include mirrors sometime, if at all possible.

“don’t think i’ve ever cum like that,” you hum, giggling quietly. you were being honest, that was the most intense thing you’ve ever felt. and thank fuck you’re too blissed out to care, or else you’d be pissing your pants at the sheer thought of how intense this man makes you feel after only 2 nights together.

niall chuckles breathily, sucking wet kisses over your neck, to your jaw and chin. “had your fun sweet girl ? s’it my turn now ?” he asks, tongue flicking out against the fullness of your bottom lip.

“mhmm, please,” you hum, rocking your hips, still sitting on his cock. the movement pulls a groan out of niall, his left hand colliding with your ass cheek in a stinging smack.

“f-fuck,” you stutter out, caught completely off guard, nails digging into niall’s biceps for support. 

his hand smoothes over the swell of your bum, soothing the stinging in your heated skin. he swallows down your moans, kissing you through it, as he wraps his arms around you, rolling you onto the bed. 

niall pins your hands to the mattress, on either side of your head, his hips slowly rolling into yours. the slow drag of his cock against your dripping walls, making your head go fuzzy. 

he keeps his pace slow, feeling your walls split open to accommodate his size, sucking him back in every time he thrusts. niall feels absolutely delirious for you. he really means it when he says you’re intoxicating. your sweet smell, silky smooth skin. the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. the way his entire being seems to melt in your presence. 

you can feel your second orgasm coming on, the torturously slow drag of his cock making you feel every bump, every ridge, every vein. the tip of his dick steadily grinding into your sweet spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

“gonna cum again for me sweet girl ?” niall mumbles against your lips, feeling your walls start to clench on his length. “feels good like this yeah ?” he asks, thumbs gently rubbing over your palms, hands still pinned to the mattress. 

“s’so good ni, fuck -“ your words cut off by your second orgasm crashing over you, a whimpery moan leaving you as your back curls. 

niall buries his face in your chest, groaning as your pussy clamps down on his length, but he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking into you just as deliriously slow as he has been. the head of his cock rolling into your sweet spot over and over.

and you can’t stop cumming. your next orgasm starts before the last one can even end. your hands are gripped into his tightly, thighs shaking, your moans getting louder.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” you whimper, your third orgasm rolling into your fourth, gasping for breath as niall bites into your neck. “fucking can’t - can’t stop. can’t stop cumming, fuck,” you cry out as your fifth orgasm rolls on.

niall lets go of your hands, needing to anchor himself to you. he rests on his elbows, forearms on the mattress, boxing you in. his fingers wrap over your shoulders, thumbs stroking your skin.

your hands immediately fly to grip into his hair, arms wrapped around him for dear life. you’re feeling so overstimulated, but it’s the best you’ve ever felt in a long time. you can feel niall’s cock twitching, as he struggles to hold on through your sixth ? seventh ? orgasm.

“christ petal, m’the luckiest lad on the fuckin planet,” he groans out against your neck as his hips finally still, cock buried deep inside you, tip seethed into your sweet spot, as he spurts ribbon after ribbon of hot cum.

your body is an absolute trembling mess as you gasp for air. one of your hands carding through your hair before falling limply on the bed. your other hand in niall’s hair, raking through his locks.

niall’s breathing heavily, catching his breath, laying flat against you. a moment passes before he lifts his chest up from yours, looking over your face, “doing okay pet ?”

“mhmm,” you hum, nodding lightly, smiling at him. “that was, honestly, the best. ever,” you giggle, high on whatever endorphins are coursing through your body, in a post sex haze.

“couldn’t agree more,” he murmurs, reaching up to kiss you, as he slowly drags his cock out of you.

you whine against niall’s lips, the sudden emptiness making your overstimulated pussy flutter over nothing. “sorry, let me get something to clean you up,” niall whispers, slowly standing up and heading into the washroom to find a washcloth.

he makes his way back to the bed, smiling at your fucked out expression, “christ, you’re so beautiful petal. wish i could see you like this every day.” he crawls up the bed, gently resting his hands on your inner thighs to pry your legs open. he softly swipes the washcloth over your cunt, apologizing at every twitch and whimper.

once he’s done cleaning you off, niall lays back down on the bed, partly on top of you, his head resting on your chest, leg thrown over yours, his fingertips lightly rubbing up and down your bicep. you card your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp and pulling on his hair. you’re not sure how long you both lay there in silence, enjoying each other as much as you can until the cozy bubble you’ve created inevitably pops again. especially when you start to take notice of the early hour, the first peaks of sunlight starting to stream through the sheer white curtains.

“we’re gonna have to talk about this,” niall breathes out against your chest, breaking the silence first, as he watches the trail of goosebumps that follow the path of his fingertips. he hears you hum an affirmative response, your face burying into the top of his head, taking a calming breath, the smell of his shampoo still lingering.

“mind if we order some room service first ?” you mumble. “could really go for a coffee,” the lack of sleep and scratchiness to your throat is made obvious the more you speak. 

niall looks up at you, a bright smile on his face, kissing the underside of your jaw, “you’re really fuckin cute when you’re tired.” he keeps trailing his kisses up to your chin, finishing off with a deep kiss, right on your lips, before reaching over to the nightstand for the room service info.

niall calls in for some coffees and a large array of breakfast foods, pecking over your skin as you both wait.

once you’ve got coffees in hand, some food spread out over the bed, both of you comfortably sitting, niall breaks the ice, “i’d be fooling myself if i said i’d be able to walk out of here like i did last time.”

your eyes make contact with his, listening attentively as he goes on, “i dont know how we’re supposed to go about this, but it killed me to know we were in the same city and we weren’t together. i’m so fucking pulled to you, i cant explain it.”

you nod along, completely understanding. the moment you saw him walk out on stage last night, everything came crashing around you.

“i know,” you hum. “i feel it too. it’s so hard to say goodbye to you. but what do you suggest ?” you ask. truthfully, you barely know each other.

“i just-“ niall sighs. he knows this is crazy, he wants to throw everything away for someone he doesn’t really know at all. just based on a feeling. no, fuck, he can’t do that. can’t do that at all.

“i just want to see you,” he sighs again, knowing that’s really the only way he can describe it. the only way he can really get away with this. “you make me feel so good. so safe. so, i dont know, it’s like relief ?” he tries to explain. “like everything else can just wash away. is it totally selfish of me to want to hold onto that ?” he adds quietly. “you’re the only bit of peace i have. the only thing that’s truly just mine.”

you think you just felt your heart get ripped to shreds. how can you deny him the comfort he’s been so desperately craving ? it’s not like you’re getting nothing out of this agreement. and maybe if you weren’t exhausted, running on no sleep and an absurd amount of orgasms, maybe if you weren’t so fucking gone for this man, you would have thought about this. 

but your heart aches for him, you want to help him, you want to do this with him. so you find yourself nodding, smiling reassuringly as you lock eyes with niall, “sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other then.”

Part 4

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 27

c.15 AD – John the Evangelist. The Gospel of John makes several references to "the disciple Jesus loved", and to "the Beloved Disciple", including references to special priviliges that Jesus gave to this relationship, not granted to other disciples. This is taken by some Biblical scholars as evidence that Jesus had a relationship with this disciple which was at least emotionally intimate, and possibly sexual. In medieval Northern Europe, there was even a long-standing tradition that he and Christ were the bridal couple at the Cana Wedding Feast.

It is not clear whether this "Beloved Disciple" was John himself (although it could have been), or someone else possibly Lazarus.

In any event, there are suggestions from elsewhere that John may have had a same-sex relationship with another, his scribe Prochorus, after Christ's death. Prochorus later became bishop of Nicomedia, and in turn, formed a fresh relationship of his own with a younger man, Irenaeus.

1846 – Ezra Allen Miner, more popularly known as Bill Miner, was an American bandit, originally from Bowling Green, Kentucky, who served several prison terms for stagecoach robbery (d.1913). Known for his unusual politeness while committing robberies, he was widely nicknamed the Grey Fox, Gentleman Robber or the Gentleman Bandit. He is reputed to have been the originator of the phrase "Hands up!" Legend has it that Bill Miner admonished his cohorts to fire their guns when in danger of capture but "do not kill a man".

Miner was born Ezra Allen Miner in Vevay Township, near Onondaga, Ingham County, Michigan. He never legally changed his first name, but regarded William Allen Miner as his true name throughout most of his life. He was arrested for the first time in 1866 in San Joaquin County, California and served time there. He then formed a partnership with Bill Leroy to rob a stagecoach. Leroy was caught and lynched, but Miner escaped. He was later caught for another robbery in Tuolumne County, California and was released from San Quentin in 1901.

After his third prison term, Miner moved to British Columbia in Canada, where he adopted the pseudonym George Edwards and is believed to have staged British Columbia's first-ever train robbery on September 10, 1904 at Silverdale about 35 kilometres (22 mi) east of Vancouver, just west of Mission City.

Miner was eventually caught after a botched payroll train robbery near Kamloops at Monte Creek (then known as "Ducks"). Choosing the wrong car, they managed only to rob $15 plus a bottle of kidney pills that Miner picked up off of a shelf. Miner and his two accomplices, Tom "Shorty" Dunn and Louis Colquhoun, were located near Douglas Lake, British Columbia after an extensive manhunt. A posse surrounded them while they were lunching in the woods. Miner presented himself as George Edwards and claimed that he and his cohorts were prospectors. The officer in charge of the posse suspected he had encountered the nefarious train-robbing gang and challenged the claim, putting them under arrest.

Dunn attempted to fire at the police and was shot in the leg. He gave up quickly after being wounded. Colquhoun was disarmed by an officer standing nearby and Miner never drew his weapon. Miner's arrest and subsequent trial in Kamloops caused a media spectacle. Apparently the most damning evidence against him was the bottle of kidney pills that Miner had picked up during the Ducks robbery. Upon his conviction, he, Dunn and Colquhoun were transported by train to the provincial penitentiary in New Westminster. By that time, Miner's celebrity status had risen to the point that the tracks were reputedly lined with throngs of supporters, many of whom expressed satisfaction with the fact that someone had taken the very unpopular CPR to task.

While serving time in the B.C. Penitentiary, Miner escaped in 1907 and was never recaptured in Canada. He moved back to the United States, becoming once again involved in robberies in the South at Gainesville in 1909. There, he served more prison time, and escaped twice.

He died in the prison farm at Milledgeville, Georgia, of gastritis, contracted from drinking brackish water during his previous escape attempt.Researchers Mark Dugan and and John Boessenecker contend that Miner was the only known homosexual outlaw in the American "Wild West." In his younger days, "Miner, who had a slender, girlish figure, no doubt was a target for sex-starved older and stronger convicts." Later, they claim, he lured young men into crime and preyed on them sexually. Whatever Miner's sexual preference, the only evidence of Miner's homosexuality surfaced in 1903 when the Pinkerton Detective Agency stated that Miner "is said to be a sodomist and may have a boy with him."

1932 – On this date Fritz "Fred" Klein the Austrian-born American sex researcher, psychiatrist and pioneering Bisexual rights activist was born (d.2006). He's best known as the inventor of the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid. He was also a pioneering bisexual rights activist, who was an important figure in the modern LGBT rights movement.

As a self-identified bisexual, Klein was surprised at the lack of literature on his sexuality in the New York Public Library in 1974. He was inspired to place an advertisement in a New York City alternative newspaper the Village Voice and founded a ground-breaking social and support group for the Bisexual Community called Bisexual Forum.

He devised the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid, a multi-dimensional system for describing complex sexual orientation, similar to the "zero-to-six" scale Kinsey scale used by Alfred Kinsey, but measuring seven different vectors of sexual orientation and identity (sexual attractions, sexual behavior, sexual fantasies, emotional preference, social preference, lifestyle and self-identification) separately, as they relate person's past, present and ideal future.

Klein published The Bisexual Option: A Concept of One Hundred Percent Intimacy in 1978, based on his research, the world's first real psychological study of bisexuality. He also co-authored Man, His Body, His Sex in 1978, and published Bisexualities: Theory and Research in 1986 and Bisexual and Gay Husbands: Their Stories, Their Words in 2001. He published a novel, Life, Sex and the Pursuit of Happiness in 2005.

1973 – Wilson Cruz (born Wilson Echevarría) is an American actor known for playing Rickie Vasquez on My So-Called Life and the recurring characters of Junito on Noah's Arcand Dr. Hugh Culber on Star Trek: Discovery. As an openly gay person of Puerto Rican ancestry, he has served as an advocate for gay youth, especially gay youth of color.

Wilson Cruz was born in Brooklyn, New York to parents of Puerto Rican descent. His family eventually moved to Rialto, California where he attended Eisenhower High School, graduating in 1991. At age 19, Cruz came out to his parents as gay, first to his mother and then his father. While his mother was initially hurt and shocked, she eventually accepted the news. His father, however, threw him out of the house, and Cruz spent the next few months living in his car and at the homes of friends. He later reconciled with his father.

After coming out to his parents, Cruz went to Hollywood to seek work as an actor, intending to be open about his sexuality from the beginning of his career. In 1994 he was cast as Enrique "Rickie" Vasquez, a troubled gay teen, in the short-lived critically acclaimed cult classic TV series My So-Called Life. In one episode (entitled "So-Called Angels") drawn from Cruz's own life, Rickie comes out to his family, who throw him out of the house.

Cruz works with and advocates on behalf of LGBT youth, especially youth of color. He has volunteered his time as host for the Youth Zone, an online community at Gay.com for LGBT youth. He was the Grand Marshal of the 1998 West Hollywood Gay Pride parade and the 2005 Chicago Pride Parade. In 2008, he was the keynote speaker at the University of Illinois at Chicago's Lavender Graduation and Rainbow Banquet honoring graduating LGBT students.

Cruz joined the board of directors of GLAAD in 1997 in order to assist the organization through a leadership transition, and joined the staff of GLAAD in 2012 as a National Spokesperson and Strategic Giving Officer.

Rowland in his army days

1990 – Died: Chuck Rowland (b.1917) was a founding member of the Mattachine Society. He was active with ONE Inc. and founded the short-lived Church of One Brotherhood. Upon retiring from twenty years of teaching in 1982, Rowland founded Celebration Theatre in Los Angeles.

Chuck Rowland was born and grew up in tiny Gary, South Dakota. He recognized he was homosexual at an early age, and after reading a sympathetic series of articles in a pulp magazine, concluded that, if millions like him existed, they could be mobilized. At the University of Minnesota in the late 1930s, he was active on campus in support of the loyalists of Spain and other causes. While in grad school during 1939–40 he returned to Gary as a substitute for the spring term. On a weekend visit to Minneapolis, he met Bob Hull, a U of M undergraduate. The two had a brief romance, lived together, and became lifelong friends.

In 1942, Rowland was drafted into the army. Due to a severe injury, he stayed stateside during the war. While enlisted, Rowland became a charter member of the American Veterans Committee, a liberal alternative to the American Legion. After discharge in March 1946, he showed his talent as an AVC organizer, but his active support for veterans’ bonus legislation, which the group disparaged as “handouts,” led to his being “canned” by the AVC by 1947.

While in the AVC, Rowland noted that those he knew to be communists were some of AVC’s best organizers. “I was just carried along with this feeling of liberalism and the horror of the [anti-communist] reaction that was setting in,” he said, “and my feeling was that we had to move farther and farther to the left, as a result of which I got into the Communist Party.” Rowland returned to Minneapolis and headed the CP’s Midwest youth division.* (His value as an organizer trumped any chance of being expelled under the party’s unwritten anti-gay policy.) Rowland recruited Hull into the party, and the two contemplated Rowland’s childhood dream of organizing homosexuals.

In 1948, he quit the CP and move to Los Angeles, followed by Hull. There, at a labor school, the two met a teacher, Harry Hay, who also had done some thinking about a homosexual organization.

Harry Hay was developing a blueprint for a homophile support group, but before he could show it to them, Rowland and Hull moved to Mexico in the summer of 1950, intending to relocate permanently to avoid anti-Communist witch-hunts. They returned by fall, however, and received Hay’s completed prospectus, which they eagerly shared with Hull’s new boyfriend, Dale Jennings. The three met with Hay and his lover Rudi Gernreich on Armistice Day 1950, and eventually formed the (necessarily) secretive Mattachine Society and its public nonprofit, Mattachine Foundation.

Mattachine members clockwise from top: Chuck Rowland, Konrad Stevens, unknown, Bob Hull, Jim Gruber

Rowland immersed himself in ONE Inc., writing for its magazine and directing its social services division. In 1954 he proposed that ONE open a guidance center staffed with gay counselors to mentor the waifs who found themselves alone in a new city. The project foundered, but Rowland nevertheless reported to ONE that in 1955 his division provided job placement and/or vocational counseling for nearly 100 people.

The early 60s saw Rowland involved in a possible FBI blacklisting (as both Red and gay), a failed business partnership, a dependence on intoxicants, mounting debt, and eviction. Finally, following the tragic suicide of his friend Bob Hull in May of 1962, Rowland returned to the Midwest. That summer he was hired as a credentialed high school teacher in Iowa. Obtaining his master’s degree in 1967, he chaired the theater arts department at a Minnesota college.

Upon retiring in 1982, Rowland returned to Los Angeles from his “exile,” as he put it, while admitting to “some worthy accomplishments” and meaningful relationships. In late 1982, with Jim Kepner and ex-Mattachino Martin Block, Rowland founded Celebration Theatre, billed as “the only theatre in Los Angeles dedicated exclusively to productions of gay and lesbian plays.” Kepner hosted its debut in the late spring of 1983, in his National Gay Archives.

Having been hospitalized in March 1090 with prostate cancer that proved to be terminal, Rowland “moved to Duluth where a former student fixed up a handsome apartment overlooking the lake,” according to a Kepner-penned obituary. “He spent five happy months among students and relatives….” Chuck Rowland died December 27, 1990.

[rosesraleigh]

Character name: Rose Eleanor Raleigh 

 Age: 28

 Gender identification: Cis female 

 Preferred pronouns: She/Her 

 Residential area: Celestial Drive

 Occupation: Line Cook at Titan Grill and Restaurant

Time in Starlight Oaks: 2 months

TL;DR: originally from brooklyn, recently divorced, line cook when she's talented enough to be cooking high cuisine, in her trainwreck and rock bottom era, enjoying the freedom of no longer giving a fuck 

FULL BIO

tw: parental abandonment, cancer, infidelity

Rose Raleigh was the result of a quarter-life crisis.

Her mother, Alma, during a nervous breakdown of sorts, ran away from her husband and two children and landed herself in Brooklyn, New York while having what she described as “a nervous breakdown about her impending 30th birthday”. In a matter of weeks, after meeting him in the family diner where he worked, she was shacked up with Donny Raleigh in his apartment over the restaurant – named ‘Rosie’s Table’, a neighborhood staple. It wasn’t more than a month later that Alma was staring down two pink lines on a pregnancy test in Donny’s bathroom. 

Her third child was on the way.

Fast forward to roughly eight months later, and Alma had had a change of heart about Donny along with her husband and kids back in Vancouver. Unceremonious would be the best way to describe her exit from the hospital after giving birth to her baby girl, jumping on the next flight out to reunite with her “real” family. 

Donny didn’t think twice about what single-fatherhood would mean – the guy was all in.  He raised Rose (named after his mother, the diner’s namesake), in the apartment above the diner. Rose grew up around the sizzle of the fryers and the smell of grilled onions; Sunday brunch regulars gossiping over endless coffee refills and hungover college students begging for a bacon egg and cheese even though they were a buck short. As soon as she was old enough to refill a ketchup bottle and roll silverware in a napkin, Rose was on the payroll. 

She wanted connection desperately, and it was so easy for her to find in the kitchen. Rose loved the feeling of nourishing people, being a part of their daily routines and special events by proxy of the food that she made for them. She soaked up every foodie blog she could stumble across – Donny even sprung for the extended cable package so they would get more cooking channels. It wasn’t a shock to anyone when she set her sights on The Culinary Institute of America. 

(Good thing Donny had been setting aside a portion of his tips since the day she was born.)

With a huge send off at a neighborhood block party, Rose waltzed out to TCIA…and quickly realized that she was in over her head. However, failing and disappointing everyone in the diner who believed in her was not an option. With dedication and stubborn will (and several unhealthy coping mechanisms), Rose came out the other side with her degree in hand and a world full of potential at her feet –

And ended up right back in the comfort of her father’s kitchen. 

It was there that she met Greg, the son of a local plumber who was allergic to pickles (hence why she remembered his order). One date turned into two, two went on to twenty, twenty led to moving in together, which led to a wedding.

Two weeks after he walked her down the aisle, Donny was diagnosed with lung cancer.

For the two years nothing seemed different, aside from a cough and chemo (which still wasn’t enough to stop the guy from smoking). Then he needed to wheel oxygen around with him – that added two more years. And then things went downhill fast, and Donny was bedridden and in a hospital more often than not. Unable to handle the operations of the diner anymore, he signed ownership over to his daughter – but medical bills continued to pile up and additional treatment was needed, and then eventually in home hospice care. 

Rose sold ‘Rosie’s Table’ to cover the expenses. And Donny died the next day.

The two weeks later, on the last day the diner was open, Rose ended up fucking a busboy over the prep counter after closing. Greg ended up seeing the security video.

Things went downhill fast. 

Divorce papers signed a few short months later, Rose needed to get the fuck out of New York. Fuck that, she needed to be on the other side of the country.

She ended up in Washington, remembering her father saying that was where her mother lived. At the current time, Rose is still too scared to reach out. 

Instead, she pours herself into her position as a line cook – smoking out back like a fiend, doing a line or two mid shift, and wondering how the hell she got here.

PERSONALITY

Two positive traits: Driven and visionary

Two negative traits: Impulsive and sharp-tongued

FUN FACTS

never call her ‘rosie’

when left to her own devices, mostly eats microwavable meals or egg dishes (scrambled, fried, omelettes)

speaks spanish and french

very obvious new york accent when she’s working in the kitchen, or pissed off

doesn’t keep up on a lot of shows, except for depression binges of real housewives and other bravo shows

starting to playfully dabble in illegal substances

has a talent for wine pairings with fancy food yet keeps franzia in a box at home

CONNECTIONS

​

WANTED CONNECTIONS

coworkers/people in the service industry to keep the same weird hours as her

neighbors

messy hookups because she’s definitely in her chaotic era

perhaps friends who have adopted her weird little self since she came to town

eventually i’d like to dabble in the concept of her finding her half siblings, so if you have a character that could fit into that i’d love to hear it!

[sapphyreopal5]

Your pasts post said about Jensen and Danneel will get divorced. If They will getting divorced. Do you know Jensen will be with his true love? Do you think Jensen will have a bright future for being with the right woman will give him better life? Maybe why see Jensen looks sad he misses the person he is in love with.

Hello Anon, thank you for sending in this ask. My guides tell me he has not met the one yet. However, I do suspect as my guides have spoken of and also based on other things that he has been seeing someone else (or 2 someone elses ha ha). I believe 100% they've had their own lives dating while married for at least a handful of years now. I honestly think she first started to be more unfaithful while he was busy filming in Vancouver a little before 2018, as hinted at an older podcast she did with the OTH ladies cast. They also kept calling Danneel "the backup plan" (which curiously is the name of a movie Danneel was in and also the premiere she and Jensen went to a monthish before they tied the knot) that was made "in case things fall through with his soulmate not meeting him at a convention in July 2009".

My guides did say I am allowed to share some things about who his soulmate is, who he by the way has NOT met yet. I was told that he is meant to meet her at a convention, which is why he's been traveling so much and constantly goes to conventions despite being away from his family as such a big family man (smidge of sarcasm being thrown in here ha ha). Hermes one of this higher selves along with a Canaanite deity named Ba'alat Gerarlt (who is Mark Sheppard's higher self and who I discuss further below) told me one thing that stands out:

"Seers [what deities collectively call themselves] have been hinting to Jensen about the name of his soulmate for several years. Her name has been used as names (in 1 case nickname) for 3 female characters, one of those episodes curiously being titled "The One You've Been Waiting For". The name of a writer on the show The Boys and someone on his payroll at Chaos Machines also share her name, along with a role he was hoping to get would've made him play alongside a girl with this name. He 'subconsciously is fighting to get closer to his soulmate'". He needs to watch the movie "Serendipity" in order to start "cracking" this coded hint engraved in his divine blueprints from The Seers.

A little bit about the deity Ba'alat Gerarlt I mentioned before... Ba'alat Gerarlt told me that he introduced himself as Ba'alat Gebal to the Canaanites as a fertility goddess "so I can get a statue made for me with boobies on it". This deity by the way is VERY mischievous but he is also an EXCELLENT guide and seer. He also happens to be the higher self of Mark Sheppard who played Crowley. I kept asking myself why it's Ba'alat who set up in his and her divine blueprints that they meet at a convention, and then it hit me only as of a couplish weeks ago. I knew since I saw Crowley on Supernatural said "Easy, love. If you remember our time in Mesopotamia the way I do, you remember: I'm a lover, not a fighter" that this was a hint of who Crowley was represented by in Supernatural.

When I asked if Ba'alat is Mark's higher self after reading more about this so called "plot error" regarding Mesopotamia in SPN while watching that episode that clearly had people within the fandom up in arms about it, I was told "yes, I had this so called 'plot error' get thrown into the divine blueprints as a hint to Mark I am his higher self. I spoke to the writers at the CW and said [in their divine hearing] '"'I am Ba'alat Gerarlt, a Canaanite deity. I am Mark Sheppard's higher self, and I am here to tell you to put this plot error in the script so that when a Tumblr user named Sapphyreopal5 writes about it one day, people realize that everything happens for a reason including so called mistakes".

So why is it Ba'alat Gerarlt who set up Jensen meeting his soulmate in their divine blueprints? It's because his incarnation Mark Sheppard met his current wife at a Supernatural convention...

[masllp]

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[whentherewerebicycles]

just made the absolutely glorious discovery that I have five days of PTO left, which means I can give notice on monday and leave two weeks later while still technically being on payroll for a third week when I will actually be on vacation with liz (we’re gonna do a little vancouver/victoria trip!). whoo fucking hoo!!!!!

[raleighrose]

Character name: Rose Raleigh 

 Age: 30 

 Gender identification: Cis female 

 Preferred pronouns: She/Her 

 Residential area: Gastown 

 Occupation: Line Cook at Le Crocodile

Time in Vancouver: 1 year

TL;DR: originally from brooklyn, recently divorced, line cook at one of VC’s most expensive french restaurants, in her trainwreck and rock bottom era, enjoying the freedom of no longer giving a fuck 

FULL BIO

tw: parental abandonment, cancer, infidelity

Rose Raleigh was the result of a quarter-life crisis.

Her mother, Alma, during a nervous breakdown of sorts, ran away from her husband and two children and landed herself in Brooklyn, New York while having what she described as “a nervous breakdown about her impending 30th birthday”. In a matter of weeks, after meeting him in the family diner where he worked, she was shacked up with Donny Raleigh in his apartment over the restaurant – named ‘Rosie’s Table’, a neighborhood staple. It wasn’t more than a month later that Alma was staring down two pink lines on a pregnancy test in Donny’s bathroom. 

Her third child was on the way.

Fast forward to roughly eight months later, and Alma had had a change of heart about Donny along with her husband and kids back in Vancouver. Unceremonious would be the best way to describe her exit from the hospital after giving birth to her baby girl, jumping on the next flight out to reunite with her “real” family. 

Donny didn’t think twice about what single-fatherhood would mean – the guy was all in.  He raised Rose (named after his mother, the diner’s namesake), in the apartment above the diner. Rose grew up around the sizzle of the fryers and the smell of grilled onions; Sunday brunch regulars gossiping over endless coffee refills and hungover college students begging for a bacon egg and cheese even though they were a buck short. As soon as she was old enough to refill a ketchup bottle and roll silverware in a napkin, Rose was on the payroll. 

She wanted connection desperately, and it was so easy for her to find in the kitchen. Rose loved the feeling of nourishing people, being a part of their daily routines and special events by proxy of the food that she made for them. She soaked up every foodie blog she could stumble across – Donny even sprung for the extended cable package so they would get more cooking channels. It wasn’t a shock to anyone when she set her sights on The Culinary Institute of America. 

(Good thing Donny had been setting aside a portion of his tips since the day she was born.)

With a huge send off at a neighborhood block party, Rose waltzed out to TCIA…and quickly realized that she was in over her head. However, failing and disappointing everyone in the diner who believed in her was not an option. With dedication and stubborn will (and several unhealthy coping mechanisms), Rose came out the other side with her degree in hand and a world full of potential at her feet –

And ended up right back in the comfort of her father’s kitchen. 

It was there that she met Greg, the son of a local plumber who was allergic to pickles (hence why she remembered his order). One date turned into two, two went on to twenty, twenty led to moving in together, which led to a wedding.

Two weeks after he walked her down the aisle, Donny was diagnosed with lung cancer.

For the two years nothing seemed different, aside from a cough and chemo (which still wasn’t enough to stop the guy from smoking). Then he needed to wheel oxygen around with him – that added two more years. And then things went downhill fast, and Donny was bedridden and in a hospital more often than not. Unable to handle the operations of the diner anymore, he signed ownership over to his daughter – but medical bills continued to pile up and additional treatment was needed, and then eventually in home hospice care. 

Rose sold ‘Rosie’s Table’ to cover the expenses. And Donny died the next day.

The two weeks later, on the last day the diner was open, Rose ended up fucking a fightfighter over the prep counter after closing. Greg ended up seeing the security video.

Things went downhill fast. 

Divorce papers signed a few short months later, Rose needed to get the fuck out of New York. Fuck that, she needed to leave the country.

She ended up in Vancouver, remembering her father saying that was where her mother lived. A year later, Rose is still too scared to reach out. 

Instead, she pours herself into her position as a line cook at one of Vancity’s more expensive French restaurants – smoking out back like a fiend, doing a line or two mid shift, and wondering how the hell she got here.

PERSONALITY

Two positive traits: Driven and visionary

Two negative traits: Impulsive and sharp-tongued

FUN FACTS

never call her ‘rosie’

when left to her own devices, mostly eats microwavable meals or egg dishes (scrambled, fried, omelettes)

speaks spanish and french

very obvious new york accent when she’s working in the kitchen, or pissed off

doesn’t keep up on a lot of shows, except for depression binges of real housewives

starting to playfully dabble in illegal substances

has a talent for wine pairings with fancy food yet keeps franzia in a box at home

CONNECTIONS

two week bender buddies; fwb with @silascody

late night drinks with @soshsanderson

neighbors who get high together with @jjaspr​

WANTED CONNECTIONS

coworkers/people in the service industry to keep the same weird hours as her

neighbors from her apartment building

messy hookups because she’s definitely in her chaotic era

perhaps friends who have adopted her weird little self since she came to town

eventually i’d like to dabble in the concept of her finding her half siblings, so if you have a character that could fit into that i’d love to hear it!

[oklahomablog838]

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[taxlinkcpa]

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[transcounts0]

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[jodex99]

The Ultimate Guide to Finding the Best Small Business Accountant in Vancouver

Are you a small business owner in Vancouver looking for expert accounting services? You're in the right place! Choosing the right small business accountant can make a significant difference in your financial management and business growth. In this comprehensive guide, we'll walk you through everything you need to know about finding the best small business accountant in Vancouver.

Understanding the Role of a Small Business Accountant

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[upchurchschack20]

High 10 Factoring Companies For Trucking & Four Worst 2023

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[lfgpartners]

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