#rt-lamp

[ghost--girlfriend]

Self Shippers! Here is your free pass to be bitchy about fandom ships! Feel free to reblog, comment, or whatever and rant about how your f/o would NEVER date them(because they wouldn't) and how people just don't understand what f/o wants/needs in a relationship(which is NOT that canon character, it's you!) let that anger out!

[sai-int]

rts!simon saying ily for the first time

ndsmkdwjsk

why am I crying rn omg

it happens late, like most things between you do. the air is still, heavy with the afterglow of something soft and slow—love made in the hush of your shared room, all quiet gasps and murmured names, limbs tangled beneath the sheets simon insists on keeping tucked so tight it’s a miracle you ever manage to wrestle under them.

the only light is from the bedside lamp, dim and amber, though bright enough to cast everything in that dreamy haze that makes the world feel smaller. safer. like the rest of it doesn't exist. like it's just the two of you, tucked away from reality.

he's on his side, propped up on one elbow, just... looking at you.

you blink up at him, chest rising and falling gently beneath the covers, flushed from pleasure, drowsy with warmth. “what?” you ask, brows furrowing. “do I uh— have, like… something on my face?”

he just shakes his head. once.

“no.” a beat. “just… can’t believe y’real.”

your stomach flips. “simon,” you say quietly, teasing but a little breathless, and he only keeps staring.

your hand’s resting between you both on the mattress, bare and easy, and his reaches out for it—fingers brushing yours, then lacing together. he lifts it, eyes never leaving your face, and presses a kiss right to the band on your ring finger. one that you had were longing for, one that cost more than it should’ve because it reminded you of a daisy, with little delicate diamond petals etched into the gold.

—you’d cried when he gave it to you. told him you truly didn’t need that one. and he’d said “anythin’ f’you, sweet’art. it’s yours.”

now, he holds it to his lips, and his voice is barely more than a whisper when he says, “i love you.”

it knocks the breath right out of you.

not because you didn’t know. god, you’ve always known. you’ve seen it in the way he cares for you, the way he shows up, again and again—even when it’s hard, even when the world’s tried to beat the softness out of him.

simon loves you in a hundred ways: in the food in the fridge, in the shirts turned inside out in the laundry, in keeping the hallway light on when he knows you get nervous in the dark.

he loves you in silence. in acts of service. in the way he’s built you a life and quietly placed himself at the center of it.

but hearing it? soft, tentative, so unlike the man the rest of the world knows?

it wrecks you.

“simon,” you whisper, teary-eyed before you even realize it, and then you’re climbing on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck, giggling like a fool as you pepper kisses over his cheeks and jaw and mouth.

“i love you so much,” you say between kisses, “so, so much, you idiot, i’ve been waiting forever for you to say it—”

he groans but he’s smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen it and genuine, the kind of grin he only ever lets out when he’s with you, and he wraps his arms around your waist and rolls you over so you’re under him again.

“wasn’t ready,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “but y’waited.”

you nod, eyes glassy. “always would.”

he kisses you slow. sweet.

—and later, when you're tangled together and drifting off—his face buried in your neck, your fingers playing with the dog tags he never takes off—you think about how love isn't always loud. sometimes it’s quiet. sometimes it’s late.

but it’s always worth it when it’s him.

[jmtorres]

i just saw a post about how we just have to "live with" covid and wanting more protections from our government is unreasonable because we'll never wipe it out, it jumps species and is in all sorts of animal populations (like, true ok) so why even try to

and apparently the argument was aimed at people (who I haven't seen in the wild) who are arguing we should still be in lockdown. and i have mixed feelings about the idea of extended lockdown or attenuating isolations; but my main feeling at this point is not that the government should keep us apart but that the government should be trying to make it safer for us to be together

things the government could/should be doing about covid:

we know that ventilation/air movement helps a shitton. we should be incentivizing upgrades to ventilation systems in all public buildings with shit like rebates or tax deductions, while phasing in eventual legal requirements. (and uh. it has occurred to me that the US might actually be doing this sideways by there's currently this decade enormous tax incentives in re energy efficient upgrades for slowing climate change and you know. energy efficient hvac does tend to improve ventilation. extra point to biden here.)

mandatory paid sick leave so workers aren't under social or economic pressure to work when sick

passing out RT-LAMP tests like metrix that actually work instead of the rapid antigen tests that have become less and less reliable as the virus mutates

i don't know how you'd write this law but like 95% or more of computer-based work can be done remotely and companies should not be allowed to force people to return to the office. I know there's people who want to be back in person and I'm not saying they should be forced to stay home but ffs I know of at least two people CLOSE to me who worked remotely before the pandemic and at some point their workplaces tried to tell them they weren't allowed to do that anymore despite the pre-existing contracts. stop canceling remote work for people that want, need, or prefer it.

for that matter, every college lecture that was an online class during covid should still be offered as an online class, there is no reason to force students into auditoriums in person. you got the communications infrastructure up and running, why are you tearing it down. give people the OPTION. it increases accessibility for everyone!

covid vaccine immunity lasts about four months. this should be well-publicized and everyone should be able to re-up for free every four months. "every year, like the flu vaccine" is demonstrably not often enough. actually "for free" isn't good enough start handing out $10 gift cards you will be shocked at how many people who are resistant to the idea of vaccines will fold for $10 a shot

are there already laws on the books about masks in medical settings that some medical professionals are blatantly ignoring because they forgot what best practices were before the plague and they're 'tired of masking'? if not, pass laws. if so, fucking enforce them

oh another incentives for upgrades phasing into legal requirements thing: brass doorknobs and railings over stainless steel or whatever. microbes do not survive on brass surfaces

i mean. i know this one sounds too extreme to a lot of people but. UBI.

most if not all of these measures will prevent or ameliorate other pandemics of different diseases that may arise in the future. and just. generally improve our health and quality of life for other reasons.

I haven't felt safe to go to a concert since 2020. Maybe if I knew a venue was legally required to have ventilation to a certain standard and that none of the ticket takers and ushers were on the job sick to avoid risking loss of paycheck or job, and knew a larger percentage of the crowd had up to date vaccinations--maybe if any or all that, I might ever feel comfortable going to a show again.

wouldn't it be nice if those of us who have been disabled, by covid or other conditions, had accessible remote options but also occasionally felt safe enough to interact with and participate in wider society?

one of the arguments on the post I saw was how isolation was massively psychologically damaging and various strata of society were affected in all sorts of ways, from undersocialized kids to increased depression in--well across the board, I think. and here's the thing: WE KNOW. PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC HEALTH CONDITIONS, LONG COVID OR OTHERWISE, KNOW ISOLATION SUCKS REAL BAD. because we, both for our own health and due to disability ostracism, are still isolating and isolated more than most.

what are you as individuals or societies, what are our governments, doing to help make it safe and accessible to rejoin you????

[cathezis]

✧ ₊ ☕️ quiet coffee breaks, 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 & 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 💼 desk lamp on ⌇ mind in sepia

🕰️ ˚₊· 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓 .. ۫ 𓂂  soft workaholic w/ chocolate eyes 💼   her favorite color is 2:14pm ⋆ ⣠ 𓈈

⌛️.help rt & reblog

[petercapaldi-press]

INTERVIEW

Peter Capaldi on Criminal Record character: "He has scars and carries ghosts"

By Kate Battersby

Thursday, 11 January 2024

This interview originally appeared in Radio Times magazine.

As Peter Capaldi talks about his new Apple TV+ drama Criminal Record – "a stylish crime drama with a contemporary edge and a noir-ish element", to quote his own description – he makes no effort to disguise his fondness for Elaine Collins, his fellow executive producer on the eight-part series, sitting beside him.

Friendly, funny and stylish in equal measure, she is just as affectionate towards him… which is rather lovely, as they have been married since 1991 and have a 30-year-old daughter.

In 2021, he sweetly pinpointed "September 12th 1985, under a street lamp in Glasgow with Elaine" as the greatest kiss of his life. It was their very first, soon after they met as actors in a touring theatre production.

They co-starred in the 1992 romantic comedy Soft Top Hard Shoulder, and teamed up again in Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, the 1995 Oscar-winning short film he wrote and directed. As Capaldi clutched his Academy Award he told Hollywood’s assembled royalty: “Elaine Collins was the real creative dynamo behind all this.”

Since then, she has become a powerhouse in British television, bringing Vera to ITV and Shetland to the BBC, long-running successes both.

Meanwhile, Capaldi’s own profile has risen ever higher, with his award-laden portrayal of The Thick of It’s fabulously foul-mouthed political enforcer Malcolm Tucker, and of course his three-year stint as the 12th incarnation of Doctor Who. In 2022, when BAFTA Scotland gave him its Outstanding Contribution gong, he concluded his acceptance speech with a direct address to Collins.

"My darling wife Elaine," he said, "it’s your strength, kindness, wisdom and love that’s enabled me to have this career. You’ve always been there through all the ups and downs, and that you chose to share your life with me is the greatest luck of all."

And now here they are, working as executive producers together for the first time and talking to RT. "It was great," beams Capaldi. "Elaine’s the boss, obviously. She’s the person who really drove this show, pulled it all together and had the vision for it, while having to do the day-to-day business mechanics of keeping it rolling. I was just a sounding board."

Collins tuts at once, exclaiming, "You’re too modest. He was fantastic. We genuinely had a great time and it was amazing to have that support system at work and at home. Of course you bring it home – you’re living and breathing a show while you’re making it – but that was genuinely great. He’s always a support system for me. Hand on heart, we’re best friends."

Sitting listening close by, one of Criminal Record’s supporting actors, Tom Moutchi, smiles at the two of them indulgently. "Awww," he teases, "soooo cute." Capaldi and Collins crease up, as Capaldi agrees that "cute" isn’t a word usually linked with him.

"A journalist asked me the other day, 'Why do you scowl all the time?'" he recounts. "I said to him 'I’m not!' and he said 'Your face is a scowl.'"

"He’s cute to me," declares Collins firmly, although it must be said the role he plays in Criminal Record scores low on the cute-o-meter.

What the broadcaster Mariella Frostrup once described as Capaldi’s "graveyard complexion" is exactly right for Detective Chief Inspector Daniel Hegarty, who’s drawn into conflict with a younger detective sergeant (Cush Jumbo) over a murder conviction from a decade previously.

Complex and tense, Criminal Record is a long way from a cosy procedural featuring a grizzled-but-warm-hearted veteran cop. From the very start, Hegarty seems anything but benign. So having never previously played a detective, why did Capaldi want to portray this one?

"I liked the idea of a character who is veiled," he explains. "I always feel as if I’m giving too much away, so a character who deliberately hides everything was very attractive. I brought lots of me to him. He has a knocked-about, been-round-the-block quality, a certain melancholy. He’s like London, where the series is set – he’s been through his own personal Blitz. He has scars and carries ghosts."

Born in Glasgow, 65-year-old Capaldi and Collins (who is also Scottish, from Lanarkshire), now call the UK capital home. Co-star Cush Jumbo, meanwhile, is a born-and-bred Londoner. Along with writer Paul Rutman she is also an executive producer on Criminal Record.

What did the four of them want the drama to say about London, about policing and about race? "That it’s complicated – there are issues that have to be addressed," says Capaldi carefully.

Moutchi, who moved to the city aged seven from Ivory Coast, plays Errol Mathis, the man convicted of murder following the police investigation led by Hegarty, and is glad the series offers no neatly packaged solutions to the issues raised: "It serves as a magnifying glass as opposed to a cure."

Criminal Record has turned out a game changer for 30-year-old Moutchi, who was on the brink of quitting acting when he got the role. Now he has been cast in Gladiator II, director Ridley Scott’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning film of 23 years ago, much to the unalloyed pride of Capaldi and Collins. It’s an extra reward at the end of a long road that began when Collins first pitched Criminal Record to Apple TV+ "and others".

"I sent the script out on a Friday and Apple came back very interested on the Monday, so I immediately took it off the table elsewhere," she remembers. "When Apple decide they want to work with you, you have their full attention. They’re very supportive. When they have something to say, it’s usually worth listening to because they’re smart. You’re always speaking to people directly involved with the show who run the drama, not people five layers down."

That sounds as if the same may not be true of mainstream channels? Collins is all diplomacy as she replies, "I have been lucky. But we’ve all heard stories."

Capaldi nods. "In the UK there’s a tradition of having to wait a very long time to have your script read and then get a reaction to it. Streamers are moving more quickly than the BBC or ITV."

It seems the process of conceiving the show, having it commissioned and producing it has been enjoyable and smooth all round, but Capaldi appears nervous about how viewers will react to it. "I didn’t know if I could play this part, but real growth comes from being uncomfortable. I don’t know yet if it fully worked. If people like it, it will have worked, and maybe even if they don’t like it, some bits will still have worked."

His fellow executive producer looks at him with loving pride. "I think 100 per cent it worked," she says.

[pepaldi]

This interview originally appeared in Radio Times magazine.

As Peter Capaldi talks about his new Apple TV+ drama Criminal Record – "a stylish crime drama with a contemporary edge and a noir-ish element", to quote his own description – he makes no effort to disguise his fondness for Elaine Collins, his fellow executive producer on the eight-part series, sitting beside him.

Friendly, funny and stylish in equal measure, she is just as affectionate towards him… which is rather lovely, as they have been married since 1991 and have a 30-year-old daughter.

In 2021, he sweetly pinpointed "September 12th 1985, under a street lamp in Glasgow with Elaine" as the greatest kiss of his life. It was their very first, soon after they met as actors in a touring theatre production.

They co-starred in the 1992 romantic comedy Soft Top Hard Shoulder, and teamed up again in Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, the 1995 Oscar-winning short film he wrote and directed. As Capaldi clutched his Academy Award he told Hollywood’s assembled royalty: “Elaine Collins was the real creative dynamo behind all this."

Since then, she has become a powerhouse in British television, bringing Vera to ITV and Shetland to the BBC, long-running successes both.

Meanwhile, Capaldi’s own profile has risen ever higher, with his award-laden portrayal of The Thick of It’s fabulously foul-mouthed political enforcer Malcolm Tucker, and of course his three-year stint as the 12th incarnation of Doctor Who. In 2022, when BAFTA Scotland gave him its Outstanding Contribution gong, he concluded his acceptance speech with a direct address to Collins.

"My darling wife Elaine," he said, "it’s your strength, kindness, wisdom and love that’s enabled me to have this career. You’ve always been there through all the ups and downs, and that you chose to share your life with me is the greatest luck of all."

And now here they are, working as executive producers together for the first time and talking to RT. "It was great," beams Capaldi. "Elaine’s the boss, obviously. She’s the person who really drove this show, pulled it all together and had the vision for it, while having to do the day-to-day business mechanics of keeping it rolling. I was just a sounding board."

Collins tuts at once, exclaiming, "You’re too modest. He was fantastic. We genuinely had a great time and it was amazing to have that support system at work and at home. Of course you bring it home – you’re living and breathing a show while you’re making it – but that was genuinely great. He’s always a support system for me. Hand on heart, we’re best friends."

Sitting listening close by, one of Criminal Record’s supporting actors, Tom Moutchi, smiles at the two of them indulgently. "Awww," he teases, "soooo cute." Capaldi and Collins crease up, as Capaldi agrees that "cute" isn’t a word usually linked with him.

"A journalist asked me the other day, 'Why do you scowl all the time?'" he recounts. "I said to him 'I’m not!' and he said 'Your face is a scowl.'"

"He’s cute to me," declares Collins firmly, although it must be said the role he plays in Criminal Record scores low on the cute-o-meter.

The whole thing at Radio Times.

[brawlina]

got any hc about Larry and Lawrie? :33

Ah everyone's favorite pair of twins!

Larry and Lawrie HCs

Originally Larry and Lawrie were supposed to be just one robot. But something weird happened while fixing the AI and it kind of... split into two? Rather than deleting or scrapping one, their creators just decided to have two robots instead!

R-T is technically their superior, but their dynamic with them is weird. Sometimes R-T is like their dad and other times R-T is like their baby brother. But all that really matters is that they can get things done to keep the park safe.

Originally both Larry and Lawrie were overly polite when they spoke. Lawrie eventually lost this trait, which made him more intimidating and more of the 'bad cop' persona he projects. While they both loosened up overtime, Larry still keeps this trait because he just likes it that way.

They never swear on duty. The risk of a kid hearing it and copying them is too high.

Lawrie has sweared around the other brawlers before but Larry hasnt/ He's perfectly capable of doing so, but is keenly aware that he can only drop it once to inflict massive psychic damage on the others.

Most assume Larry is the weaker one because he is the nicer one. Theyre actually exactly the same in strength, its just that Lawrie is more likely to go overboard.

When Lawrie is angry, he gets loud. When Larry is angry, he gets very quiet.

They have a neck! When they are low in power and can't sustain having their heads float off their body, a small pole comes from their shoulders which can hold their head up until they get some rest.

Why do their heads float? It just makes it faster and easier for them to look around and spot any rule breakers when their head is not tethered. It does mean that they can swivel their head around 180 degrees, though they dont always do it in fear of scaring the kid visitors.

They can operate with their heads away from their body, but its significantly harder for them. Unlike RT, they dont have a secondary sensing mechanism on their bodies, so they cant go around headless and still know whats going on.

They have a good relationship with Grom and the Wild West duo of Shelly and Colt. Though Lawrie seems to have some tension with Colt because of his flamboyant nature.

They are still very skeptical of Belle and Sam because of their criminal history. But somehow theyre allowed to be here and theyre not allowed to arrest them so...

They may not be aware that Pearl is their daughter...

When theyre pursuing a rule breaker together, their head lamps will turn on and alternate to make the classic police lights and siren.

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 1

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 12.5k

A/N: Hey guys. This is going to be very diferent from my usual writing style. Ive decided to drastically improve my formatting and actually got a beta reader if you can belive it. Hopefully this will be a step in the right direction for me. Enjoy!

This was going to drive him up a wall. His assistant had to be testing him because there was no other explanation as to why he would fail so spectacularly. He weighed the pen deliberately between his fingers, awful. A mere ballpoint pen, with weak half-carbon ink that could not write worth a damn under pressure, Robinson had brought it to him and had left far too quickly to be questioned as to why he brought him this garbage and where his Uni-ball Jetstream RT pen was. He had a box specifically for them, if the last one he was using had been damaged, and the refills were in a color-indicated container so that running out of the non smudging, waterproof oil based ink was never a problem. He vehemently refused to waste the precious paper of his Moleskine Pro notebook on this abomination and was forced to scramble around to find a stack of printer paper. The mere horror of having to write his notes on such a thing took up a whole two minutes, and his process of stapling enough pages together took him a whole other three, so his attention was only halfway with the commentators as they discussed the preamble for the game. He knew all of it anyway, but he would have much rather been properly focused on the TV standing tall in front of the desk he had set up.

Even when he had finally settled down, he was still irked senselessly by the memories that flooded his mind of his assistant telling him to take it easy on this game. That it wasn't a big deal, as the novelty of the Alterra Giants forming a twin female team had worn off. To be fair, it was Alan's first dive into the female hockey division. And the response from his audience to him covering women's hockey hadn't exactly been a fantastic incentive to continue. From a purely financial perspective, a stack of stapled paper and a barely functional pen would be what this game deserved. He would be better off getting his notes for his final coverage of the female division of the Alterra giants done quickly, making it a short section on the video, and preparing to talk about the Reapers’s new coach. Unfortunately for him, there was a problem. A big gaping hole in that sound line of logic.

The women's division of the Alterra Giants was one of the best teams he had ever seen.

Ryley suggested that it might simply be lackluster competition and the significantly higher funding that came with being associated with a famous male team, but Alan knew better. The way they played was impeccable. They were simultaneously ruthless and extremely synergized as a team. The team members' individual stats rivaled most men on the rink, and those team members were all from highly successful teams beforehand. By all means, the Alterra Giants were a phenomenon to keep track of. Alan easily found himself frustrated by the reaction on social media to his coverage of them. He had believed that he would have cultivated an audience that cared enough about the sport itself and how it was played, as opposed to a bunch of nitwits that used his channel as a vehicle to engage in endless drivel about the same seven teams and would throw a tantrum when he dared to look away. He had given up on discussing historical games because of the low engagement, and he did not want to give up on something he cared about again. He had quit his job as an official commentator to pursue this path with his own Youtube channel, to have the freedom to discuss what he wanted however he wanted. So he would stick to his choice of subject matter as stubbornly as he stuck to his choice of pen.

There were some other particular points of interest in this game. They were playing against the Trivalves, a much older team but one with very little fanfare. Mediocre win streak and only one title to their name in two thousand and ten. What was somewhat intriguing was that this would be the debut of three new players on the team. Olivia Lopez, Sarah Church, and Robin Ayou.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had broken a tooth. It was nipping the side of her cheek in a way she was sure would leave a mark, but she had yet to taste blood. She had tuned out most of coach Maidas speech, she was sure she would get scolded for it. She kept quiet mostly, only offering vague vocalizations of acknowledgement to test out her ability to speak. It didn't hurt horribly. She ran her tongue over it carefully, confirming it was one of the left teeth on the side, hopefully not immediately obvious if she kept a low profile.

It had been a goal. That's all that mattered. She had humiliatingly fallen to the cold ice floor when she hit the puck from halfway across the rink and managed to score. She was sure as hell not going to get kicked out of the match now, three minutes into the game. The injury could be dealt with later; no one had to know about it. Her mouth guard still fit just fine and actually dulled the pain. She adjusted her helmet and gripped her stick tighter. Stepping out onto the rink, she could only wish she had done her hair a little tighter.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are one hell of a stupid kid, ain't ya girl?” coach Marguerite Maida let out while pinching her nose bridge standing opposite to the young woman that sat on the locker room bench pressing an ice pack to the side of her face, the taste of blood finally making its appearance.

“I got us three goals. I won! Shouldn't we be celebrating right now? Ow! Ooooohhh…” Robin failed to protest. The coach ran her palm across her face before gesturing wildly, slouching her posture and bending her knees almost as if to get down to her level.

“That is the BARE minimum you can do! And the next time you won't have beginner's luck riding on your dick.”

“It was against the Alterra Giants! That can't be luck, I destroyed them!”

“And destroyed your goddamn mouth to boot!”

“Listen- ow ow ow ow… You told me to never be a pussy and get back up no matter what. And trust me coach, if I can get over you fucking my sister, I can move past anything.”

She expected a scowl but received a smirk, almost as if the coach suddenly got some malevolent idea.

“Oh yeaaaaah, what will Samantha think of you galavanting around, breaking teeth like they're candy?”

Robin's smile dropped. Her brows furrowing and her shoulders tensing up, she lowered the ice pack and glared at the woman in front of her.

“You wouldn't dare…”

"Oh, I would sweet cheeks. And I'll do it right now.”

She pulled out her phone, and Robin was ready to jump her and get it out of her hands if her life depended on it, but at that precise moment, the rest of the team burst into the locker room, cheering and chanting in celebration. Robin was quickly picked up by a larger teammate and paraded around like a trophy. She got too caught up being red in the face to realize the coach leaving the room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Woman, you are in your twenties, she's not gonna hit you with a belt.”

Calvin looked over at his friend, who was fretting over her phone right next to him on the couch. They were supposed to be celebrating, beer and pizza abundant across the table, the TV gleaming in the mostly dark living room. He was shocked that she was glued to her phone even as the documentary narrator started talking about Ventgarden leviathans, her favorite leviathan that just yesterday she had yapped his ear off about a new documentary that had come out where they actually got footage inside it, and now that they were watching it, all she could do was wait for a scolding like she was a little kid.

“What would you fucking do if your mom called wanting you dead?!” she yelled hysterically, gripping her phone so hard she might break it.

"Robin, you have a mom, you don't have to be more afraid of your sister than you are of her.”

She pouted at him and proceeded to aggressively finish another slice of pizza. It was her cheat day after all. If Maida knew about this, she would surely finally just up and kill her.

"Well, you should be asking Sam why she's dating a woman old enough to be her mom.”

“Weren't you thirsting about that old guy in the commercial last week? I'd say it runs in the family.”

“He was hot! Shut up! And also even then she didn't have to date my fucking coach.”

“I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.”

“I win three to two against the Alterra giants, and this is how all of you thank me?!” She crossed her arms and sank further into the couch.

She had every intention to stay like that the rest of the night, but her eyes focused on the TV. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. The diver was at the bottom of a heat vent overlooking an adult Ventgarden, its maw beneath the tentacles fluttered open and the diver with the camera strapped got closer. Robin held her breath as she watched it, expecting a cut, but she couldn't help but have her eyes wide open and her mouth agape as they moved inside when its mouth opened. The diver spun around, showing a full three sixty view of the mesmerizing inside of the creature; large tree-like protrusions decorate the inside, alive with a multitude of plants and minerals. The large cone shaped structure at the top of its translucent bell shone like a divine chandelier. It took her a couple of seconds to remember to inhale.

“You know they base a type of underwater greenhouse on this leviathan?”

“Yes Robin, you've told me this six times.”

"Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”

They sat in silence, finally enjoying the documentary. Mostly Robin did, Cal opted to fiddle with his phone and briefly chuckled at a text he received.

“Yo, actually. Turns out Ryley works for a guy that has a hockey channel on youtube.”

Robin looked over at him, unimpressed and mostly annoyed that she had to divert her attention from the documentary to respond.

“You waited until now to find out what your new boyfriend does for a living?”

Cal turned slightly red at the accusation, scratching the back of his neck.

“Shut up you nearly got engaged to a girl you knew for a week.”

“THAT WAS A JOKE!”

“Sure, anyway, Ryley's boss is apparently insane and he's telling me he just went ballistic on him for bringing him the wrong pen.”

“Well what the hell do you expect from a man with a youtube channel.”

“True, but check it, it's Alan Silvester.”

Her expression barely changed.

“Don't play the name game with me.” she deadpanned.

“The commentator??!” Whether he sounded incredulous or offended, she couldn't tell.

“NHL?”

“Yeah!”

“Haven't kept up with it, sorry.”

“You are the only person who doesn't watch the NHL.”

“I do! Ive just been busy, you know, playing my own fucking league!”

“He was a commentator four years ago!”

Robin returned to looking at the screen, they were now talking about Snow stalkers, which was much more interesting to her.

“Who cares? He sounds like an asshole.”

"Yeah, you'd know.”

“Piss off.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stayed late. It nearly felt like it was going to boil him alive but his routine took a back seat today. He needed to do this now. He stayed late in his office, the game long over, and the arena now silent. The harsh glow of his computer screen and the soft hum of the heater kept him awake. He had his computer and his two notebooks and finally his preferred pen all lined up as he paused and unpaused the tv. This was his third rewatch of the game. He watched it re-reading the notes he took initially, then again finally taking new notes with the right notebook and pen, and finally, what he had originally planned on doing tomorrow, go through the game bit by bit, pausing and rewinding while writing down on his Midori MD notebook. After that, he would use all he had written down to begin writing the script for the video.

He paused the screen on a frame of her face.

She was injured. Seemingly nobody else could tell. He hadn't seen a goal like that in months, somehow flying past the other team's perfect coordination. It was almost as if it were mathematically calculated on the fly. Only to then proceed to fall flat on her face. It was undeniable that she carried the game, but her apparent inability to do so without nearly breaking her jaw was fascinating. He couldn't help but chuckle at himself as he watched her smash into the boarder of the rink for the second time. Clumsy wasn't quite the word to describe her. It would have been much simpler if he could pin her down in any way. Her playstyle was erratic, she played well enough with her team, but there were times where it appeared as though the world around her disappeared and she was locked in to the goal. She simultaneously had incredible and terrible spatial awareness, and the crazy thing is that it all somehow brought her to victory against one of the most ruthless teams he had ever seen. To say she had potential felt like both an understatement and also blatantly wrong. She was more akin to throwing a bull in a flock of sheep and seeing what happened. The entire time, he couldn't help a certain giddiness from filling him. He wasn't going to be covering anything other than the PHF for the time being. Audience engagement be damned. This was too damn fun.

His determined scribbling was interrupted when he felt a buzz in his right pocket. He stiffly put the pen and notebook down as his back straightened subconsciously. Suddenly the glow of the television in the otherwise dark room felt like something he had to fix, his jacket something to take off indoors, his shades neatly contained in their case in his left drawer something to be ashamed of, and the hour he was out of the house at a death sentence. His chosen ringtone, the only one that didn't drive him insane, made him feel cumbrous. Alan hesitated for only a second before pulling out the phone and staring at the screen. He already knew who it was. Nobody else ever called him. He paused the game. Both sounds at once were searing to his senses. Of course. This was inevitable. He had sworn to himself that he would call at the right time from his office and save himself the trouble. This was just his unavoidable punishment for breaking his perfectly calculated routine, because the damage it did to his nerves wasn't suffering enough.

The phone was still ringing. He took a deep breath and placed it down on the table and answered, immediately putting it on speaker.

“Mothe-“

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I-“

“You scared me beyond belief! Where are you?”

“At home.”

He definitely felt his eye twitch as he said that but he would live.

“Who are you with? You should have called me, Alan, who is at your house right now?”

"Mother, no one. I am here alone.”

“You would have called me if you were alone at home, or are you out there somewhere? Why don't you call me when we agreed to?”

“I simply got caught up in… work, in work I have to do around the house. I was going to call you. It is only ten minutes late.”

“Hah! Tell me what of all the times you've yelled and cried and threw a fit when I was late to something then?! When I started lessons five minutes late Alan?! Are you going to pay me back for that?!”

“I have apologized multiple times for that mother. Please.”

“Oh! But then what about when the doctor took all of ten seconds to arrive and you threw a fit?!”

“I was five.”

“Don't get smart with me, I am still your mother. Now where are you and who are you with?!”

He thought about it. About the semantics of putting up a lie. Of how much it would take to convince her. Concluding that he could not fool her as she would eventually demand he share his location on his phone. He threw in the towel.

“Fine! I stayed late at the office working. I'm sorry. I won't let work interfere with our call agai-“

“Don't call it work! You had a job four years ago, and when you finally make something out of this obsession of yours you throw it away because, baby can't have everything exactly how he likes it!”

Her high pitched mocking tone made him grip the edge of the table.

“Mother, I have paid your electricity bill, water bill and phone bill for the month and I've been affording my medications just fine. You can't deny the fact that I make a living honestly.”

“I have done nothing but support you your entire life, the doctors told me you might never so much as be independent. I never gave up on you and even when you could have been a doctor you chose to throw our lives away because you could never let go of this game.”

He sighed, leaning back on his chair. He was too worked up by the game, that's why this felt more irritating than normal. Breathing out, he took the phone and turned off the speaker mode, putting it to his ear.

“What can I do to make this up for you?”

His voice was calm. Gentle. A practiced measure of breath that flowed just right in his voice to sound like what he had learned was supposed to be the sound of sincerity.

“Well you can get a real job first of all. But for this we can have lunch tomorrow. I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you Alan. You barely ever talk to me anymore.”

He pointedly ignores the urge to correct that he calls her every day at eight pm sharp. And that she visited his apartment unprompted last week.

“I miss you too.”

Gentle. He could not risk a hint of anything hard making its way onto his voice.

“I'll have something prepared for you tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Sweetie, I am not eating meat with peas again. We're going to a restaurant. It really is time you eat like an adult sometimes.”

He wanted to ask what exactly she meant by that but knew that doing so would only bring trouble.

“Alright sure. There are three places I like so-“

“I said like an adult. I'll pick the restaurant. There is this one near the house that I've been meaning to try.”

“What's it called?

He was already opening up a new tab on his computer to look up this restaurant, wanting to have a good look at the menu beforehand.

“I'll tell you where it is, when you come pick me up.”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself and immediately regretted it.

“What was that? Are you mumbling to yourself? What did you say? Are you giving me lip right after I give you a chance for me to forgive you?!

He felt himself deflate as he listened to the ranting on the other line. Dammit. While he listened he turned off the tv and began to pack his things to go home. He wouldn't be getting any more work done now.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She bonked her head against the wall. Leaning against it with all the weight of her misery. She had forgotten, she always did, and yet it felt worse every time. Robin groaned. No wonder her hair felt wrong. She had left her cornrows for an entire week too long. Sam having been the only one to have made note of it. Perhaps it had been her own dread that had led her to subconsciously procrastinate the hair appointment; those were the bane of her existence. She should just do what Sam did and cut it all as short as possible, but she knows she would cry at the mirror if she did that.

She removed her face from the wall. It was embarrassing to be moping like this out in the open. She wished they would have at least let her wait inside the hair salon, but she couldn't complain given that the stylist still chose to do her hair after she arrived twenty minutes late and let the next person take her spot, this was more of a time out than anything.

It didn't help that it was an absolutely miserable day. It wasn't raining but it could at any minute, the gray clouds overhead making their presence known citywide. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she had naturally overestimated her tolerance and had brought only a thin jacket. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, phone too low on battery for her to mindlessly scroll her time away.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

He was not faring much better, fighting for his life to not cave and order something from the children's menu out of pure desperation. The menu was an amalgamation of salads and pasta, and every time he found something that seemed fine, some ingredient showed up that made him shiver at the mere thought of it on his tongue. He measured how long he stared at each page after he read it, knowing that going through them too quickly or too slowly would earn him a comment from the woman sitting across from him. Who at the moment was rambling about her hair.

“It is only natural that hair begins to turn white mother, you shouldn't be this worried about it.”

“I know, but I don't want to look like an old lady, Alan. There is nothing more loathsome than white hairs on a woman.”

“And what about a man?”

“You know what I mean!”

He did not.

“I have white hair.” he uttered flatly. Her face did not change in the slightest at his words, but she did turn to look at him.

“You know I don't mean you baby. You are very handsome for having your condition.”

He only held in a breath and took the compliment as it was. Alan had never truly understood where he fell in the spectrum of physical appeal. Years ago, his coworkers had relentlessly mocked him when he revealed that the only reference he had at the time for his own appearance was his mother's opinion. And after, during his very short lived relationship, his girlfriend had only ever called him “unique” or "interesting." He eventually concluded that he was most likely unattractive, as he had observed that those who were societally considered the most appealing lacked any sort of condition or physical defect. A state of being incompatible with his albinism.

Thankfully, today the weather was easy on him. It was dark enough outside that he could comfortably leave his shades in their case, saving himself a lecture from his mother about wearing them indoors. The restaurant they were in was only being lit by the large windows that took up the wall, leaving their table in relative darkness at the corner of the space.

His mother kept on talking about the hair salon that was on the other side of the street and how nice the hairdressers were until he finally decided to look over.

He did not recall standing up.

His mother was already frantic, asking him what was wrong and telling him to sit back down, his eyes were glued to the other side of the street, at the wall that was barely there before it turned into a corner, and the woman leaning against it. On their own accord, his legs began to move. He only managed to barely stop himself to let out a breathy, “I'll be back.”

Before he was rushing out of the restaurant, fumbling with his cap and sunglasses, barely putting them on before stumbling outside. Alan damn near forgot to look for a crosswalk and was almost about to beeline it across the street. The fact that the woman had already caught him staring right at her and looked back only delighted him further. It took him much longer than he would have liked to cross the street properly and jog his way up to her.

“You're Robin Ayou!”

He basically cornered her against the wall with his massive stature, quite a feat given that Robin was quite tall herself.

“Oh my goodness I saw your debut yesterday, I must say it was fascinating! I need to know what your thought process was during that first goal and how you measure your passes, because I've only ever seen a few players do anything like it. It is only a first impression for the PHF but I briefly looked at some of your games in the NCAA and I noticed that you have been-“

“Wow wow! Ok pretty boy slow down!”

“I-... What?”

The rambling was abruptly cut off, as his shoulders fell along with any sign of life he exhibited. It seemed that he nearly stopped breathing for a second. As for Robin. She stood there, mouth open and eyes wide.

“That… was supposed to be an inside observation.”

She freaked out when his face got redder than she'd ever seen on anyone before, almost making her ask if he was ok and if she needed to call an ambulance. But she guessed it was inevitable, because this guy was fucking pale. The very little skin she could see was nearly flat white with a fleshy pink undertone. Now that she thought of it, she doesn't know why she ever thought he was pretty if she could barely see him under his sunglasses and the Florida Stalkers cap.

“Listen, I'm not the weirdo in this situation!” She flusteredly pointed at him, and his dumbfounded expression quickly made its way into one of epiphany.

“Oh. I did not introduce myself.” He deflated as he spoke, stiffening his shoulder and lowering his head to look at the floor. “My name is Alan Silvester.”

She could have sworn she'd heard that name before but could not for the life of her remember where.

“Alright… you clearly know who I am. Big hockey fan? Must be if you've got me pinned after being in the PHF for a day.”

There was something. An ever so subtle tug at the corner of his lips that Robin wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking so intently.

“Absolutely,” he said somewhat breathlessly. Robin couldn't help but smirk coyly.

“So what, you want an autograph or something?” She was only half joking.

“Oh, no. I actually work as an independent ice hockey analyst and it would be incredible if I could get your direct input for my content.”

It took her a minute trying to figure out what “independent analyst” meant. She could only guess he was some kind of reporter.

“What like an interview?”

Alan lit up just a little.

“That is a good way to format it. I've never had the opportunity to interview a player before! If you could be in the video, that would be incredib-“

“ALAN!”

He was abruptly cut off by the voice of a woman screeching from further down the street. His panic returned stronger than ever and he turned to Robin, frantically pulling out a receipt from his pocket and writing down a couple of things on the back of it.

“This is my channel and my assistant's phone number.” He barely got her to take it from his hands before he was yanked by the arm, a shiver violently rushing through his body leaving him grimacing and struggling against the older woman that had come up to grab him.

“I am so sorry! He didn't mean to scare you. He won't bother you again I promise!”

They were already halfway across the street when he yelled, “Call my assistant if you're willing to do an interview, please!”

“Shut UP Alan!”

The two began arguing until they both returned to the inside of the restaurant they came from and Robin was left staring at her own reflection. She nearly dropped the paper in her astonishment. She looked down at it and saw a number and the name of the man that had just accosted her. The woman could not think of what to even do with herself at that moment, so with the only brain cell she had left, she took out her phone and called Cal.

“I am not getting you coffee. Do that yourself,” was the first sentence she was greeted with when he answered the call.

“Cal, some guy just recognized me in the middle of the street and begged me to do an interview with him.”

“Oh shit after only one game? Who the hell was it?”

“He said his name was Alan… uuuuuh Silvester?”

The pause that ensued was unbearably long, so much so that she had to wonder if her signal had gone bad.

“Robin what the fuck?”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took all of one afternoon for Robin to lose the receipt with the phone number. She had intended to keep it, and she swore up and down she had put it in her pocket, but that was not good enough, and when she looked through the pockets of her entire wardrobe trying to find it, and was unsuccessful. It left her horribly distracted during practice, along with the feeling of her newly fucked tooth which she would keep accidentally poaking her tongue against. Fortunately, if Robin had only one thing, it would be exceptional luck. It was five pm by the time she stepped out of the arena, barely tired from the day's training. Normally she would take this time to go on a complimentary run, but she had to meet someone.

The bus takes light years to get there. Her motorcycle was still at the repair shop, and she had already spent enough on ubers for one day by taking one to the arena that very morning. She goes through the gates of the apartment building, and gets on the elevator. Her and Cal had keys to each other's houses. It was often very convenient, as it allowed them to get stuff at any time.

Robin obliviously opened the door and was greeted with a sight she had never hoped to see.

It was Cal and who she could only assume was his brand new boyfriend of two weeks, up against a wall, one shirtless, making out in the middle of the living room.

“Oooh! Ew! What the shit?!”

She yelled in disgust. They stopped what they were doing, and Cal turned around hysterically.

“Robin! Get out!”

“You are disgusting! You literally invited me over, and this is what you're doing?!”

They yell back and forth, and the other man awkwardly finds his shirt not too far away on the couch and puts it on again. He stands there for about ten minutes until the other two have argued for long enough that they fell bitterly silent. He eventually builds up the courage to speak.

“You're… the hockey player, right?”

“And youre the guy whose fucking my friend I see,” she responded sharply, making Cal step in between them with the intention of defending the other man's honor.

“Don't be mean to him, it's not his fault.”

She laughed almost bitterly. “I can only guess whatever editorial you work for only hires people with no social awareness.”

Ryley slid his hand across his face, almost painfully so, before taking a step towards her. "Ok, bitch, I WISH it was a fucking editorial, I work for a youtuber.”

“Oh, my god, I would actually kill myself,” she said quickly, though her voice did not have a hint of sympathy. Cal once again interjected.

“Robin, your entire electricity bill is basically just youtube.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. I thought you knew that.”

“Ugh, I wish my boss knew that. He is genuinely convinced he is a legit analyst. He takes it all super seriously,” Ryley huffed, hunching his back over in exhaustion at the mere mention of his work.

“I mean, sure he might… have a screw or two loose, but it just looks like he really cares.” Robin definitely didn't think the man seemed normal in any way, but she didn't detect anything malicious or really unforgivable about him.

“Oh he cares. He cares a lot. About every little thing. He only uses one specific brand and type of pen, and then writes his short notes in this one type of notebook and then writes his other notes in a different kind of notebook and he goes actual batshit if you don't bring him that. Like a third of the budget is only his supplies.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds insufferable,” she had to concede.

Ryley stepped forward, standing now in front of Robin. “Take it from me. Don't do it. He interviewed me when I applied for the job, and I've never been that uncomfortable in my life.”

Robin sighed and put her bag down on the floor by the door. She slumped over to the fridge, not bothering to ask for permission, and looked through it. Cal and her had completely opposite diets, meaning his fridge was always stocked with tasty food and drinks that a professional athlete should definitely not be consuming. Robin liked to make the excuse that because it wasn't her place or her money spent on the junk food then it didn't count. She took out a beer and made her way to look for a bottle opener.

“I mean sure this isn't as cool as being interviewed by like Sol Sports or whatever, but when am I going to get a chance to do this again?”

“You'll definitely be on youtube often if you keep falling over like that,” Cal chuckled. She did not find it funny and had no qualms about playing dirty.

“Shut your mouth or Imma tell him the thing.” She pointed at Ryley with her thumb.

Cal suddenly tensed up and whispered sharply: “You fucking wouldn't!”

“What thing?” Ryley asked, suddenly feeling stupid for not understanding whatever insider knowledge was being discussed. Robin only raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing! There is no thing to be talking about!” Cal hissed adamantly, and that was that. She finally got the beer open and chugged down. There was a hot minute of silence while she finished half the bottle.

“Listen“ -she burped. “How many subscribers does he have?”

“Gross. Last time I checked, about eight point fifty k.” Ryley quickly recounted.

“That's not that big.”

“It's been tanking quite a bit recently. He gets way more traction on his twitter.”

He approached to show her his phone and Robin took the opportunity to look up both the channel and the twitter account.

“Well now he's got eight k and one.” She tapped the subscribe button on the screen and soon after pressed follow on twitter.

“You're really doing this?” Cal wasn't surprised. Robin had always been somewhat of a diva, it didn't make him any less uneasy about the prospect.

“Fuck it. Why not? I get to look cool and professional, and he gets something to talk about. He's basically my number one fan. Come on.”

“He'd harass any player. You're not special,” Ryley dryly interjected, making Robin almost spike up like a cat in defensiveness.

“You don't know that!”

“Will your coach approve this?” Cal reminded her of her position in the metaphorical race. She winced at the mention of that woman.

“She's not the boss of me. I can do whatever I want.”

“Robin, she is quite literally the boss of you.”

“It'll be fine!” She looked over at Ryley with a smile. “Tell him I said yes. And that he's going to need to remind me cause I'm definitely going to forget.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His videos made their way onto her feed a few times now, but she kept putting them on “Watch later," telling herself she'd get around to watching them eventually. Some of them were hours long, how was she supposed to sit through that? She still had a while until her next game, so she fell into the lul of training, running, coming home, making impulse purchases online, and sleeping.

She had given Ryley her phone number and he then gave it to Alan. He had a… unique way of texting, sending absurdly long, multi paragraph messages that Robin could only skim through. What she had managed to keep up with was his twitter. He was really active. Talking with everyone who commented about the latest game, player, or strategy and would get into heated arguments with anyone who disagreed with him. Though he never seemed to do what you'd normally do on twitter and just insult them and have that be it. No, he would genuinely structure arguments, cite sources, and go on multi tweet rants, reaching the daily tweet limit constantly. She tried to find a picture of him or food or a tweet about the weather but every single thing he posted was dedicated to hockey through and through. It only took Robin a few minutes of scrolling to find a very common response;

“Bro is acoustic.”

Usually along with some meme. It triggered something sour in her mouth. She almost responded many times that it was wrong to assume things like that of people. That it wasn't some joke. But she knew she'd only look like a killjoy and might get some flack for it if she did. She thought, sure, he cared about this game a lot, it didn't mean there was anything…. wrong, with him. She could only think of how she would feel if people talked like that about her. If they joked about her being… deficient. She would distract herself quickly with internet brainrot before she got too caught up in that thought, lest she start drowning in memories of middle school again.

What mattered is she had a date, well it was technically a business meeting but she used that word to mess with her mom when she had to turn her down for dinner that day. Alan had scheduled it at a rather cheap restaurant, which she was happy about. She fucked up and showed up a whole thirty minutes early just to prevent being late, so she was walking in circles around the block, looking through her friends instagram stories as she went. Quickly going past one of Sam going out with her coach, ugh. She was on her ninth lap when she spotted an uproariously tall man with a jacket, sun shades, and a cap, this time with a Reapers logo on it. She only knew it was him by intuition before she waved at him as he walked over.

They only exchanged minor pleasantries before they made their way inside. By the time they had taken their seat at the table they were already approached by a waiter who clearly recognized him. He said that he would like some before ordering this time and the waiter left them alone. Robin could only smile amusedly.

“Come here often?”

He jumped a little, as if he wasn't expecting her to speak.

“Once a week. I am sorry. I chose this place because it is one I'm familiar with. I don't do well eating in new places. I know this is no place to bring a pretty lady.”

Robin briefly choked on her water, her expression hiding nothing. His deadpan face only made the ordeal stranger.

“What? I thought it was fair after “pretty boy."“

“I… thought you would forget that.”

“Miss Ayou, come on. I am autistic, not stupid.

The atmosphere dropped immediately. Her flustered expression quickly changed into one of deep discomfort. It took her a minute to figure out what to say next.

“Don't... don't say that about yourself.”

“It's true. Most people who are familiar with me have already figured it out. What's that stupid word they use on the internet for it now? Acoustic? I have no idea what the joke is supposed to be.”

Despite everything, he appeared as relaxed as ever. It only made her tense up more.

“It's not funny.”

“No, it is not. But when is X ever truly funny?”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

She insisted, leaning towards him. His relaxed expression fell away, replaced with guarded confusion as he finally took his shades off. His pale eyes looked at her with hesitant intensity.

“I never said there was anything wrong with me.”

Robin was slightly taken aback, some words she didn't know stuck in her throat. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

“I have made you uncomfortable.”

His sorry tone got the blood pumping back in her veins.

“No no no! You didn't! Ah, I'm just stupid, don't mind me. Heh…”

“You're not stupid.”

She smirked in a way that was weirdly tense but frighteningly natural for her. “Oh you don't know me. I'm a mess!”

She detected a hint of that smile again. At that moment he put away his sunglasses and took his cap off. Robin was a little shocked when seeing him. White down to his eyelashes. She was only mildly disturbed out of unfamiliarity and concern but at no point did she think the title of “pretty boy” was any less accurate.

“Well, messy maybe. I can't quite deny that after seeing you trip over yourself the way you did in that game.”

She sunk back in shame, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh! Don't remind me.”

“Are you alright by the way? You clearly hurt yourself.”

She looked at him in horror. “You could tell?”

“Apparently only me. I am sorry, the staff at your game didn't do a very good job at taking care of you.”

“They're not there to take care of us.”

“Yes they are. And so should you.”

She sighed. Just when she thought she'd met someone who wouldn't lecture her. “Ok, you're right.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“Answer what?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yes! I'm fine now, don't worry. Also…” She turned meek, playing with a coil of her hair now only in a ponytail.

“Hm?”

“Maybe, don't mention that in the video?”

“I can't make any promises. I aim for accuracy and transparency. Actually that is why I wanted to meet with you. I have written down the interview questions and wanted to give them to you before the day of recording,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to her. She looked at it briefly, only noting the first three questions before folding it up and putting it in her pocket.

“Wouldn't you want to ask me those, you know, on the interview?”

“I am not very well versed at interviewing people. So I decided to give you a heads up. I want you to go through them carefully and come up with the best, most detailed responses possible. And I wanted to discuss them all with you in case you took issue with any of them.”

She stared a bit dumbfounded before chuckling. “Well you sure are prepared.”

He straightened his jacket. “I am.”

She liked that.

“Sure, we'll talk about them in a minute. My friend told me that you used to be a commentator?”

“Oh yeah. Four years ago.”

Robin did some quick math and took a good look at his face.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty years old.”

“Oh shit!” she let out without meaning to. Her face went hot at the information, suddenly making her feel a little shy in front of him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing! That's great!”

“Really? That's a… pretty neutral piece of information.”

She laughed nervously. Fuck, she really was no better than her sister. “You just don't… look thirty.”

He suddenly snorted. Flushing red like crazy himself. She almost got scared again.

“I don't go out in the sun very often, so that might be it?”

“Oh yeah, I didn't want to say anything about it, but you're the single whitest person I've ever seen.”

“Albino. I mean, I am ethnically considered white as well. But my appearance is mostly the result of being an albino.”

“Oh like a Biter.”

Whatever smile there was dropped and he looked at her bewildered. It took Robin a second to realize that was a weird as fuck thing to say and she hurried to explain herself. “I- I mean… Agh! Sorry, I just thought of albino Biter fish and, oh nevermind, forget it, I'm sorry.”

“I didn't know fish could have albinism.”He couldn't help staring when her face lit up in delight. She excitedly pulled out her phone and began typing.

“Oh it's super cool! Look!”She pushed the phone to his face. It showed an image of a small, yellowish wrinkly animal with disturbing white eyes, two on each side.

“That is one strange looking…thing.”

“Well it's technically called a Blighter not a Biter. They’re slower than Biters and often get rejected from packs so they hunt alone.”

“They're really odd looking.”

“Oh you haven't seen shit. Wait a second.” She typed something again and happily pulled up the image.

“Oh, what the fuck is that?”

The image showed a massive creature, with four huge eyes, attached to a bulbous body stuck inside some sort of translucent jell sack, lord knows how many spindly legs and thousand yard stare.

“That's a crab squid! They're super hard to study because they can produce electromagnetic waves that temporarily shut down submarines.”

“Well I certainly wouldn't want to find that while swimming in the ocean.”

“Oh they can be aggressive. Lowkey filled with hatred. But I would give anything to dive with one of these.”

“Do you just like getting hurt?”

“I would be careful! I wouldn't want to scare it!”

“Well I'm a little scared of you right now.”

“Well how do you think I felt when you ran at me out of nowhere in the street after gawking at me like a lunatic?”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “Alright that is fair.”

She laughed and they finally ordered: he just said “the usual”. Meanwhile she had visions of coach Maida yelling at her about nutrition and ordered a salad. It had chicken at least. She suggested they share the cheapest wine bottle on the menu but he said he had to drive, and she couldn't convince him. After a few seconds of silence and eating, Robin proposed something.

“You know? I'm gonna try to get you tickets to my next game, get you the best look at the action.”

“Oh no, do not bother, I don't go to games.”

“What?! But you have to!”

“I don't like it.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“It's too loud, there are too many people, it's too bright and a myriad of other things. I tried it once when I was a kid and had a meltdown.”

He didn't catch on to how sad for him she felt in that moment.

“Im so sorry…”

“Don't be. If anything you should be sorry for my poor mother who worked extremely hard to obtain tickets and had to deal with me and leave early because I couldn't handle it.” He looked oddly neutral while he recounted the story. Not sad, but not warm either. His eyes looked dead as he stared down at his food. An omelette. It was awkward between them for a moment, before Robin took a long sip of her drink.

“So you've liked hockey since you were little?”

A certain liveliness came to his face. Not an expression, his features (as they had for most of the night) remained generally unmoving. It was something else. An unimaginably subtle opening of his eyelids and a straightening of his eyebrows.

“Yes, since I was nine.”

“How'd it start?”

"Well, it was one of the only sports I could play.”

“You played?!” She leaned back, entertained by the prospect.

“Only until I was eleven. The equipment got far too expensive. I don't miss it all that much to be honest.”

“Oh that sucks. But why could you only play that?”

“My school did a lot of extracurricular activities, that included multiple sports, but most of them were outdoors. I could not be outside the way the other kids could, so I played inside.”

“And you just got hooked on it.”

“I took it significantly more seriously than anyone on my team did. I always tried to strategize and play based on research, but unfortunately that is not a substitute for raw athleticism.”

“But you're huge! Like what? Two meters?”

“Two meters and ten centimeters, to be exact.”

“God, how do you even find pants?”

“It is, in fact, a nightmare, not to mention the right texture as well. But anyway, it is highly debated how much size matters in ice hockey, obviously it is an advantage, especially in defensive situations but there is more to the subject. There is a very interesting video about it, I'll send it to you. And also, I was actually very short when I was younger. The shortest one on my team.”

“Oh like a Gargantuan leviathan baby.”

“Are you always going to compare me to animals?”

“Hey, I'd take it as a compliment. Did you know adult Gargantuans are the biggest animals to have ever existed that we know about?”

“I don't know much about zoology, but surely there were prehistoric species that were larger.”

“Nope! The biggest animal they've found since was the Sea emperor. That one was only two hundred meters long. Unfortunately, that one just went extinct recently…”

He didn't know what to do when she suddenly looked genuinely sad. He resorted to changing the subject.

"Well, the tallest recorded player in the NHL was Zdeno Chára.”

“Who is that? I thought it was John Scott.”

He gripped his fork a little tighter.

“I am always shocked by how little players actually know about their own history.”

He was lucky she thought his grumpy attitude was cute.

“Sure, boss. How many players have you met?”

“I used to meet them a lot more when I was a commentator. I've met Danby Fidle, Jochi Khasar and David Hollister.”

“That sounds amazing. Why did you stop?”

He answered immediately, with a blistering honesty she almost felt assaulted by. His nearly imperceptible smile as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world brought up a certain feeling in her chest. “Because like this I get to talk about things I truly find interesting. Like you.”

They never did get around to talking about those interview questions. She only said she would read them later.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A knock sounded at the door at the apartment. Six pm on a Friday.

“You better not be fucking in there or I'm gonna kill you.” Robin's voice was muffled by the door. The two men on the couch scrolling on their phones cringed at the comment.

“Alright. I'm coming in. One, two, three!” She opened the door and walked inside. When she saw the unimpressive scene before her, she was quick to throw her bag aside and stomp over to where they were. She stood tall by the couch in front of Ryley. He didn't look up at her until Cal nudged him.

“What?”

“What is wrong with you?!”

He squinted at her, expecting her to elaborate, which only made her more angry.

“Why would you talk about him like that?”

“How did you find that? Listen, I said what I said. Milei is a leech on the country, I don't care how progressive he is, the chainsaw shit was pathetic.”

“Ah- What? No! You idiot! I'm talking about Alan!”

“Oh, my god. Don't tell me youre on his side.”

Calvin gave a tired expression and sighed. “Please don't start fighting.”

To no avail.

“He's a sweetheart!”

“He's neurotic!”

“And so what?! He likes stuff a certain way. What's wrong with that?!”

“You don't know him like I do!”

“Oh really? What's his favorite color?”

“Oh my god, I hate you both.” Cal would have put on headphones if he could, but he contented himself with going back to looking through emails on his phone.

“Why the fuck would I know that?!”

“Well it's green, so checkmate!” She walked away, over to the counter where she saw the hair ties she had left last time she was there.

“That is not a checkmate!” Ryley burst out, looking at Cal for support, but he refused to look away from his phone. Making it clear that he was tuning them both out.

“He's so nice and patient. I said a ton of stupid stuff when I was out with him and he didn't get mad once.”

“Well just you wait until he complains about the smell of your deodorant and makes you change it.”

“Well if he asked me to, I just might!”

“Listen whatever! He said he would give you the interview questions. Do you have them?”

“Yeah! Right he-“ She reached into her pocket. Then stopped. She looked again. Deeper this time. Then at the other pocket. Then at her left pant pocket, then the right one. After a second she went over to her bag.

“I have them.”

Ryleys jaw dropped. “No… YOU LOST THEM?!”

“No no I didn't, just give me a SECOND!”

Cal finally zoned back in and stared at her with knowing concern. Ryley was already sweating.

“He's gonna kill us…” Ryley murmured almost inaudibly. Robin winced and grunted, kicking her bag and standing up to pace around the room. “God fucking dammit. I had them…”

She stopped dead in her tracks and massaged her temples. “Ok. Ok ok ok ok ok. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. It's fine. It's fine! This is an interview. It's about me! I know me! He'll ask me about how I started playing and what my training routine is, stuff like that.”

“He won't! That's what a normal person would ask!”

She fumed. “Hey! He is perfectly normal!”

“Yeah! So is the current state of Buenos Aires!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You know what? This is not my fault. He said he wanted to give them to you himself. This is beyond my job description.” he said as he took deep breaths. Robin on the other hand was chewing her nails, going back to pacing. Cal let out a deep sigh and finally spoke.

“Just ask him for the questions again. You have his number.”

“What?! No! I don't want him to think I'm an idiot! Or that I don't care!”

Ryley was annoyingly quick to add; “Well if he's so nice and patient, then surely he won't.” The sarcasm in his voice made her blood boil. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill herself or him. She looked over at Cal. “Why are you dating him again?”

“Why do you care so much about what some youtuber thinks?”

She pouted and he just raised an eyebrow at her. The stare off lasted for a few seconds before she gave up.

“You know what? It will be fine. I'm good at talking. I've always been best when I improvise. Having all the questions laid out would have probably only made me overthink it.”

“Sure. This is your problem. I'm going to the bathroom.” Ryley left the living room and Cal finally stood up and walked over to Robin. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Robin, just ask him. I know it might suck but you'll regret it if you don't.”

“Hey hey don't worry. I can handle an interview.”

“Why are you so scared of him judging you?”

“I…” She realized at that moment that she didn't have an answer. She bit her lip for a moment, before getting a determined twinkle in her eye.

“I'm done looking stupid in front of people.”

“Who cares what they think?”

She took him by the shoulders, leaning down to his level and shaking him slightly. “You wouldn't get it because no one thinks you're an idiot. You remember how it was in school. I'd ask a teacher to repeat what they said and they'd yell at me. The coach thinks the same.”

Her face tightened, and she took a shaky breath. “This guy respects me. For once someone doesn't see me as a complete disaster. And I don't want to ruin that.”

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her shoulder. “I respect you.”

There was a sour look in Robin's eyes. Almost making the man think she might doubt his words. He wanted to reassure her, but she interrupted too quickly for him to do so:. “Ugh I know. But you know me too well.”

She smiled dolefully. It only made him more uneasy.

“And what happens when he gets to know you too?”

In that moment, the heavy expression faded away. As if dissolved in water, almost instantly. And it was jarringly replaced with a manufactured confidence. A nonchalance that glowed in her features as she slightly tilted her head.

“He won't.” She took a deep breath and straightened herself up. His hand falling away. Her smile was bright and her head was held high.

“He wanted Robin the hockey star. And that's exactly who he'll get!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She debated on how much makeup she should have on, or if any at all. She opted for a light look. Covering up some bruises and scratches. Checking herself over and over in nearby car windows and storefronts, she had made her way to the location Ryley had given her. It was quite a boring small building, but to be fair she was still surprised that he had an office at all. Expecting a youtuber to run their entire operation from their bedroom. It had only been a few days since their little dinner meeting and during that time Robin had made the attempt to text him more. It was during those text conversations where she had finally truly realized.

It was really hard to talk to him about anything other than ice hockey.

She guessed at first that he was maybe just being professional. But then again she didn’t know what strategies of games from 1967 or the individual weights of other players had to do with their arrangement. She suddenly had to wonder, did he… have anyone to hear him talk about this endlessly? At no point did he mention any friends. Making Robin feel oddly protective of the man, letting him ramble to his heart's content and doing her absolute best to keep track of as much of it as she could. Ryley's incessant comments made that protective instinct even stronger. To the point where she was determined to not only steamroll this interview, but to have a great time with her new buddy doing it.

She arrived soon enough and was let in by Ryley, who did little more than give her the side eye and point to where she needed to go. The office consisted of four rooms that she didn't bother asking permission to look through. One was a small room with nothing but a desk and a television mounted to the wall, it looked vaguely creepy if you asked her. There was Ryley small dedicated office, full of a variety of labeled boxes that she couldn't quite believe were his doing. A storage closet that had been made into a makeshift audio recording booth, and finally the recording studio. It was a somewhat small room with a large whiteboard. Opposite to it, she could spot a mounted camera and what looked like a projector. Robin remembered a few of the videos' thumbnails, where he would draw complicated diagrams over the projection of a frame of the game, she thought it was fairly clever.

It was in that room where she found him. Scribbling on a pristine looking notebook on a table that was set off to the side. He didn't notice her immediately, but was most likely startled when he did. Most likely because Robin wasn't entirely sure given that he only tensed up and threw up his eyebrows slightly.

“Mis Ayou.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “Need help with anything?” She approached and saw him put his notebook down on a chair and hold his pen a little tighter.

“You arrived twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time. I am not ready to receive you.”

Robin looked at her phone. He was right. She did it on purpose. She knew that if she didn't get there as early as possible, she would inevitably end up late.

“It's fine. I can help set things up. I don't mind.”

“You should have come when we agreed to, please do that next time we have an arrangement.”

Robin took a step back suddenly feeling a little uneasy in the room.

“Are you mad at me?” She sounded incredulous.

“Upset, yes”

“Oh.” She shrunk back. Fidgeting with her hair, his face doesn't change as she asked herself, should he be at least a little happy to see her?

“Should I leave?”

“There would be no point to that now. If you are offering to assist, please move this table in front of the whiteboard.”

She swallowed uncomfortably. The shut blinds of the room made it seem smaller, making her feel somewhat trapped in. She did as he asked, and the table was quickly in place. He took little time taking a pair of chairs to stand behind it and began to fiddle with what she assumed was a pair of microphones. She sighed. “So… how have you been lately?”

“Stressed beyond belief. I have been receiving calls from debt collectors for a specific debt that has been sold and purchased at least four times by different companies. All of them have tried to bait me into paying it without sending verification that it is even mine. I've been disputing it for months and I know it isn't mine, for which I am not worried about payment but it is a hassle.”

She barked out a laugh so loud she thought the lower floor might have been able to hear it. Alan only stared at her, even seeming startled.

“What is it?”

She chuckled a little more. “Nothing, nothing. It's just you're the only person I've met that answers that question that honestly.”

“I… am sorry? Have I bothered you?”

“No no, I like that about you.”

He looked away from her and back to the microphones, finally setting them up each at either side of the table. “The exact value of honesty is difficult to quantify.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been told countless times that honesty is a desirable trait. But it's entirely circumstantial in a way that seemingly can't be telegraphed.”

She approached him again, feeling lighter this time. "Yeah, it's one of those things you're just supposed to know somehow. I can see how that can get pretty annoying.”

“I do appreciate you tolerating that fact about me.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “I don't tolerate you. I like you.”

He was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, leaving Robin to wonder if what she said was out of line.

“Thank you” he mumbled just high enough for her to hear, she couldn't help but smile wider as she looked at their setup. She walked around the room slowly, carefully eyeing the camera. She saw at the corner of her eye that Alan was already back to looking over his notebook. She got closer again and reached out to his hand carefully.

“Yo, pass me that pen, check this out.”

He hesitantly passed the pen over to her, letting out a quick “Be careful with it”. Robin weighed slightly in her palm before moving it up to her fingers and spinning it multiple times in different directions before rolling it back and forth between each finger before finally spinning it quickly over her thumb.

Alan threw up his eyebrows slightly, a small sign that made Robin feel more excited than she probably should. She continued spinning the pen in every way he knew and watched him stare at her hand with nearly mesmerized focus.

“That is quite impressive. How did you learn to do that?”

“Well it's better than chewing on it.”

His eyebrows came down again. “Do not chew on my stationary.”

She laughed. She continued doing tricks for him until a voice came in from the entrance to the room.

“Alright you two, it's time to start setting up and get recording.” Ryley could not have sounded less enthusiastic if he tried. Alan quickly took the pen from her and set it down on the right seat of the desk, where she guessed he would be sitting. She went over and sat down on the left side and waited for further instructions. Soon enough, the mics were turned on and Alan tapped on his a few times.

“Testing. Is the audio recording correctly?”

Robin couldn't help but chuckle. He looked over at her confused, the complete stillness of his face somehow communicated his perplexity in such a perfect way that it made her stifle another laugh.

“Is something funny?” He sounded so neutral about it that Robin didn't feel bad.

“Its really nothing, its just that I just now noticed how old you sound.”

Ryley was actually able to stifle his laughter, and set himself to face down at the floor. Alan should have been at least a little frustrated, but he found the sound of her laughter too pleasant to be bothered.

“It's just, you're thirty, look twenty-five and sound like sixty-seven.”

“And is that amusing?” he asked her simply. It's actually kind of hot. She thought to herself but obviously had no intention to say that.

“Just interesting. Like the rest of you.”

That tiny hint of a smile made its way onto his face again. Robin would have visibly celebrated if she wasn't being watched.

“Mis Ayou, I think it's important to remember that I'm the one interviewing you.”

“I really think it's time you start calling me Robin.”

“You did not ask before referring to me by my first name.”

“Was I wrong to do that?”

“No. The informality is pleasant. I'm glad you feel relaxed. Robin.”

Ryley was two seconds away from killing himself. “Hey! Yeah, I have lunch after this.”

The other two tensed up and she quickly looked away from Alan, she didn't know if his gaze remained on her.

Any remaining preparations were minimal. Robin had already imagined nearly every possible scenario of how this could go and at worst he would ask her an invasive personal question, and she would joke it off and make it seem like it's nothing. Like she said: she was best when she improvised. In what seemed like no time at all the camera was rolling, and she was keenly aware of how Ryley was intensely leering at her as Alan finally began.

“Hello everyone. Like I promised. I have a special video. Today I get to interview the debuting player of the Trivalves, Robin Ayou.”

She had expected a much livelier introduction from a youtuber but he had never seemed like the type. Robin was under the impression that he would put on some sort of persona for his videos but just by that one bit, she figured that was not the case. Wanting to lighten things up she waved at the camera.

“Hi. It's so cool to be here. Thank you so much for inviting me on.”

“Let's get to the questions.” He nearly cut her off. Robin had been prepared for a few minutes of on screen pleasantries and banter, just like how they had on their dinner. She had seen enough shows to have thought that interviews were supposed to be fun. She took a second to straighten herself up and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Alan wasn't looking at the camera or at her, face firmly fixed on his notebook where she could see neatly organized rows of text that she couldn't quite read.

“Do you believe you have improved since your days in the NCAA?”

Wow.

Her mouth nearly fell open and her eyes widened ever so slightly. She wasn't really sure why. Maybe she was so certain that the first question would have been; How did you start playing? that anything else would have caused her to short circuit. Still, she was quick to come up with an answer.

“Well, it would be pretty bad if I hadn’t. Of course I've gotten a lot better since I competed in college.”

At that moment Alan finally looked at her. For some reason, it was unnerving.

“Elaborate.”

She fought not to swallow her saliva. This time it took her a bit longer to come up with something to say in response. “I’ve gotten a lot faster. I was still kind of a newbie in Uni. Compared to most of my teammates, I had only played since later in high school. The others had been since they were little. But here I am anyway. I think that just goes to show that it's never too late to start, you know?”

Bingo. An answer, a little backstory, something inspirational to cap it off. She's got this in the bag.

“And?” Alan's eyes were back on the notebook. His voice was unreadable as he flipped a page.

“A-and?” she questioned in a higher pitch than she would have liked.

“You have increased your movement speed. What else?”

“Well I clearly score a lot more than I used to.”

“With only one game, it is hard to test how consistently you can do that.”

“Well you could say that about anything when I play. Why ask at all then?”

The slight crinkling of paper under his thumb could be heard over a sudden deafening silence that lasted only a few seconds that stretched on for a while.

“Alright. Next question.”

“Y-yeah sure.”

She looked over at Ryley who at this point had turned his attention to his phone. She could see him holding back a giggle, clearly looking at something he found far more entertaining than this.

“What do you do to distinguish yourself from the average player?”

That question suddenly reminded her of the horrible job interviews she had at the beginning of high school. She took a second to put herself in that mindset again. Maybe that would flow more smoothly.

“Well, I am very direct and quite ruthless when playing. I go straight for the shot and don't hesitate when I see an opening.”

“Similarly to Hua Yu. Though not quite comparable.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I don't think I'm particularly similar to anyone right now when I play.”

He had basically implied that before, right? He said she was truly interesting. Fascinating even. He meant it, right? That hadn't been just sucking up to her to get her to agree to be on here with him… right?

“I agree. You are uniquely rough while playing.”

“Rough good or rough bad?” She almost put her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to ask that out loud. It made her sound pathetic.

“Rough is a morally neutral descriptor.”

“Uh- I don't mean like tha- nevermind. Umm, but yeah, I'm quite big for a woman and I use that to my advantage.”

“Alright. Next question.”

She kept trying to find his eyes, to find some type of understanding, but his gaze would simply not connect with her, it was at that moment that she realized that the entire time they had known each other, he had not looked her directly in the eye once. She didn't know why. And suddenly, it made her incredibly nervous.

“Why were you allowed into the Trivalves?”

She blinked a couple of times. “W-why wouldn't I be? I was drafted.”

“Were you given any specific reason?”

Suddenly, a cold shiver ran up her spine. It brought her back to a few days ago, to the words Cal had said to her.

I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.

It had her digging her nails into her thigh.

“It's very simple actually. I was good and they saw that.”

“Many university players are good.”

Her breath hitched a little. She could swear a drop of sweat was running down her neck and her foot was tapping nervously on the ground under the table.

“Well I'm great then.” she nearly scowled, having to remind herself that she was on camera. Ryley had suddenly directed his attention back at them and was looking at Robin with a strong sense of dread, realizing the furrowing of his brow and the tensing of his shoulders. Alan, as always, remained unreadable save for the very subtle way that he had caused the ink on the page to slip from the pressure he was putting on it.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. Why wouldn't I believe that?”

He was quiet. Something that was starting to infuriate her. The pause had lasted long enough that Ryley was gesturing from his place to try to get them to move on and only after Alan caught sight of it did he give any sign of life.

“How do you justify your excessive clumsiness while playing?”

Oh.

Oh.

Is that how it fucking is?

“And tell me, why would you say something so stupid?”

Finally she saw a reaction, like she wanted. He put the notebook down on the table. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“You continuously injure yourself, either crashing or falling over.”

For the first time Alan looked at the camera. Ryley was nearly biting his nails when he did so. He tried to shrug as if to communicate that he had no idea of how to fix the situation.

“Well I don't see any more “graceful” players single handedly scoring three goals against the top women's team right now, so what about that?”

“That… is unrelated to the question.”

“Well move on to another question. I’m not fucking answering that.”

Robin was many things. But a pussy was never one of them. And she wasn't about to get bullied by some wannabe reporter. She looked fiercely at Alan who seemed to only take interest in her tapping foot.

[the-path-to-redemption]

Serious question. With the direction of RWBY going doing you think their is some favoritism over the female villains than male villains?

Exhibit A: Adam and Ironwood treated badly even though they have justified motives.

Adam being an extremist with how mistreatment of Fanus, being a product of child slavery by a white privilege company, and joined WF that is equivalent to any modern radical group fighting for rights (Black Panthers). Got reduce to "crazy stalker bf, disregarded his fellow fanus comrades, became power hungry for no reason, and what he was suppose to be got dumped on Ilia".

Ironwood a dignified and selfless military leader. Willing to help team RWBY with anything, risked his life to evacuated the citizens when Becaon got under attack, and gave team RWBY extra training with a senior group that put his trust in him and vice versa. Got reduce to a "liar, manipulator, disingenuous, child shooter" even though he gave RWBY man signs to put his trust on him and the situation in Mantel could've ended differently.

Exhibit B: (Bit bias cause I really hate Cinder and wish the worse for her and I hope you get betrayed by Salem). When compare to Salem, Neo, and Cinder.

Salem the first women with magic and was locked in a tower Rapunzel style. Barging with the brothers to resurrected Ozpin and discovered the see humans as playthings and wanted to change the cycle. Started to get a little power hungry and when she found out Ozpin betrayed she tried to kill him AND ALSO KILLED HER DAUGHTERS WITH NO REMORSE. Responsible for the destruction of Mantel and Beacon and the deaths of civilians. Torture and manipulate Cinder to do her bidding knowing Cinder is disposable. Uses people with Silver Eyes as weapons.

Cinder a product of child slavery and trafficking. Abuse by her elder sisters and mother. Eventually killed out of revenge and killed her mentor and the only person that cared for her. Threatened Adam to join Salem or else she killed the Fanus. Was responsible for the death of Penny TWICE. Throws a tantrum when things don't do her way and gets owned by Watts. Betrays Neo to get the lamp to get her praise by Salem when next volume Salwm will torture her again for her handling of Mantle.

Neo is the partner in crime with Roman. Manipulate by Cinder to kill Ruby when in reality Cinder is really at fault since she hired them. Emotionally Manipulates Ruby in her weakest state to commit sucide and use her deceased friends to her advantage. Realize that her whole goal of revenge is pointless and she never think this through. Get used as a puppet by the cat forcing her to talk. Gets her happy ending and stay in wonderland.

Tell me out of the two groups who gets love by the fandom and which gets hate?

I just think that RT is bad at writing for this show-

Long Post Ahead

For the writer's side on this, it's clear that they simply do not know how to process the nuances of morally gray characters like Ironwood, that's why he was straight up villainized by them. As for Adam, it's just because they're racist. That's it.

The nuances of both of these characters were beyond the scope of understanding that CRWBY were willing to explore, or else they will be confronted with the fact that they're racist as fuck, and their stupid fucking pride about being rightfully criticized prevents this show from actually improving. People wanted Blake and Ruby to talk? Ham-fist it in. People want the criticism about how the world of Remnant was written to be heard? Let's have this cat character mock them via sarcastic inquiries about said critiques on said world.

As for the FNDM? Yeah, there is a blatant disconnect when it comes to atrocities committed by female villains versus male villains in the fans to the point that it treks into full-on bigotry at times.

This isn't to say that the writers didn't fuck up on both, oh no. Salem is a boring ass main villain, James got fucked over, Cinder is a nuisance, and Adam got butchered. All of their villains aside from Tyrian and Watts suck ass, and Watts also got killed off! By Cinder!

But the FNDM has a habit of disregarding abuse when it's a male character being abused by his female confidante (Ozma, Sun, Ren, and Whitley), but are willing to completely demonize a morally gray male character like James in V7 when he would not agree with Ruby's plan. WHICH IS COMPLETELY FINE IN A WRITING STAND POINT.

The RWBY FNDM, to me, has been dragged along by a shitty lie made by RT that "this show is a feminist show because it has female main characters" and are now desperately trying to keep up that lie themselves, even though RWBY has stopped being about the girls for a while now. There is no passion behind their characters, it's all for Jaune. But admitting that will mean admitting RWBY is bad and not feminist, so they lash out at people who rightfully criticize the show and demonize the characters they don't like despite their reasons being stupid as hell.

I've seen people making ableist fucking comments to James, denying that Adam was a slave, and calling Ozpin a groomer. These same people would woobify Cinder, Salem or Neo all the while, even though all of these characters has all done terrible things to our protagonists. Keep up the same energy for both or stfu.

Sorry for the rant. This is just a topic that I really despise because people would act like rabid hyenas, which will turn into harassment which is something I do not want on my blog. But yeah, there is a favortism towards the female villains by the FNDM, but CRWBY hates all of their characters aside from Jaune equally.

[emptyxj-blog]

Guys!

I made handmade lamp, can you rt to help me? 🥰

Vinted: francescaf.24

[altaironn]

AN INTRODUCTION.

About Me:

Hello there, I sincerely thank you for spending a moment to read my introduction. I'm Altairon Caelric, or you can call me altair/al/iron. Using he/him as my pronouns, along with isfp 9w1 as my mbti and enneagram, and have reached my legal age. I speak Indonesian and English as my daily conversation but currently learning Japanese and Mandarin.

Before You Follow:

My account type is unlabeled which means my account is quite random post, and may be filled with heavy rts (fanart, game, my favorite things, and some kind of post that might be related to me). And sometimes rants about my life and college. I do draw and write, so once in a while, you might be able to see my artworks (when I have time too). Mainly talks about animanga, manhwa, danmei and some gacha games. I might be kinda inactive for a while (due to my various reason in my real-life)

Interest

GAMES:

Genshin impact, Mobile Legends, Zenless Zone Zero, Honkai: Star Rail, Wuthering Waves, Minecraft, Roblox, Enstars, Project Sekai, Sky: Children of the light, Cookie run kingdom, PGR

Animanga:

sakamoto days, Evangelion, owari no seraph, Persona 5, tsurune, hirano to kagiura, bungou stray dogs, Sasaki To Miyano, given, The summer hikaru died, JJBA, wind breaker, haikyuu, blue flag, SK8 infinity, mashle, FREE!, Link Click, etc.

Manhwa

Nerd Project, Netkama Punch, Virtual Stranger, Dangerous Convenience Store, Dreaming of The Dokkaebi, a first of summer, Plum Candy Love, Gentle Forest, our sunny days, elecced, omniscient reader's viewpoint, salt friends, etc.

Music

LANY, Hozier, Chase Atlantic, and The Neighbourhood, My chemical romance, NIKI, One ok rock, Lamp, Yoasobi, day 6.

Danmei/donghua

Mostly read/watch cultivation world and modern.

DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Minors under 17

Queerphobic, 02 supporter, Zionist, racist

Heavy Kpop acc

Cannot differentiate between fiction and reality

The interest doesn't align

People who engaged with any drama.

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] From the brand Dual Usb Travel Adapter Type C to USB adapter Type C to Usb Adapter Wireless Presenter credit card holder for man ✅POWER & PLUG: The rts 3 Pin Plug provides power to your Heavy Duty and Normal Appliances & Gadgets like Home / Office / Industrial Use / Laptop / Desktop / PC / Mobile / Smartphone / Tablet / iPad / iPhone / Charger / Camera / TV / Television / Printer / Lamp / Fan / Kettle/ Scanner / Bar code printer / instruments / VCD and DVD players / other sensitive electronic equipment Etc. ✅SOCKETS: rts Conversion Plug Come with 3 Socket Extension with Individual Switches and LED Indicator. .Used Fire-Resistance Nylon Glass Field (35% Glass) Virgin Material. Special Phosphor Copper Conductor and Nickel Coating Socket for Better Continuity. ✅EASY TO CARRY: Its Light Weight, handy, portable & and easy to carry as a travelling Partner. Maximum Power Requirement: 1800W; Maximum Volt: 250V AC; Maximum Current: 5 AMPS. ✅SAFETY INSTRUCTIONS: Each plug has plastic inserts that guard against probling children littler fingers or objects from dropping into the holes and creating a shock hazard. Note: This product is use for Indoor Purpose only. ✅Saves space - no need to install spike buster strip that occupies space and has wires all around- neat and compact. [ad_2]

[chemwhat]

IdentificationPhysical DataSpectraRoute of Synthesis (ROS)Safety and HazardsOther Data Identification Product NameDiphenyl-2-pyridylphosphineIUPAC Namediphenyl(pyridin-2-yl)phosphaneMolecular StructureCAS Registry Number 37943-90-1MDL NumberMFCD00192108SynonymsDiphenyl-2-pyridylphosphine37943-90-12-(Diphenylphosphino)pyridineDTXSID00347462DTXCID30298534629-049-1diphenyl(pyridin-2-yl)phosphane2-Pyridyldiphenylphosphinediphenyl(2-pyridyl)phosphane2-Diphenylphosphanyl-pyridinediphenyl(2-pyridyl)phosphine2-(diphenylphosphanyl)pyridineMFCD001921084K685YSU7YDiphenyl 2-pyridyl phosphinediphenyl(2-pyridinyl)phosphineC17H14NP2-(Diphenylphosphino)pyridine; 2-Pyridyldiphenylphosphine; Diphenyl(2-pyridinyl)phosphine;diphenyl-2-pyridylphosphin2-pyridyl diphenylphosphineMolecular FormulaC17H14NPMolecular Weight263.27InChIInChI=1S/C17H14NP/c1-3-9-15(10-4-1)19(16-11-5-2-6-12-16)17-13-7-8-14-18-17/h1-14HInChI KeySVABQOITNJTVNJ-UHFFFAOYSA-N SMILESC1=CC=C(C=C1)P(C2=CC=CC=C2)C3=CC=CC=N3 Patent InformationPatent IDTitlePublication DateUS2024/79595NEW BENZAMIDE DERIVATIVES AS PPAR-GAMMA MODULATORS2024CN113698431CHROMENOPYRIDINE DERIVATIVES AS PHOSPHATIDYLINOSITOL PHOSPHATE KINASE INHIBITORS2021KR101920902A PET contrast compound for early diagnosis of cardiovascular diseases and use thereof2018US2013/274483ASYMMETRIC SYNTHESES FOR SPIRO-OXINDOLE COMPOUNDS USEFUL AS THERAPEUTIC AGENTS2013US2012/184738COPPER COMPLEXES FOR OPTOELECTRONIC APPLICATIONS2012WO2011/111806OD FOR PRODUCING α, β-UNSATURATED CARBOXYLATE, AND CATALYST FOR PRODUCING THEREOF2011US5326875Alkylation of azaglycine derivatives1994 Physical Data AppearanceWhite to Off-white crystalline powder Melting Point, °C Solvent (Melting Point) 84.2 - 85.584.2 - 85.5dichloromethane8582 - 838584 - 85aq. methanol Boiling Point, °CPressure (Boiling Point), Torr1630.05 Description (Association (MCS))Solvent (Association (MCS))Partner (Association (MCS))NMR spectrum of the complexCD2Cl2BF4 Spectra Description (NMR Spectroscopy)Nucleus (NMR Spectroscopy)Solvents (NMR Spectroscopy)Frequency (NMR Spectroscopy), MHzChemical shifts, Spectrum1Hchloroform-d1chloroform-d131Pchloroform-d1Chemical shifts, Spectrum13Cchloroform-d1Chemical shifts, Spectrum31Pchloroform-d1Chemical shifts, Spectrum1Hchloroform-d1600Chemical shifts, Spectrum13Cchloroform-d1151Chemical shifts, Spectrum31Pchloroform-d1243 Description (IR Spectroscopy)Solvent (IR Spectroscopy)Bands, SpectrumATR (attenuated total reflectance), SpectrumATR (attenuated total reflectance), Bandspotassium bromideBandsneat (no solvent, solid phase)Bands Description (UV/VIS Spectroscopy)Solvent (UV/VIS Spectroscopy)Absorption Maxima (UV/VIS), nmExt./Abs. Coefficient, l·mol-1cm-1SpectrumdichloromethaneSpectrumSpectrumdichloromethane2589753Band assignment, Spectrumdichloromethane276Spectrumdichloromethane231, 261, 2938600, 6500, 1100 Route of Synthesis (ROS) Route of Synthesis (ROS) of Diphenyl-2-pyridylphosphine CAS 37943-90-1 ConditionsYieldWith dihydrogen peroxide In dichloromethane; water at 20℃; for 3h; Glovebox; Inert atmosphere;98%With dihydrogen peroxide In dichloromethane; water at 20℃; for 3h; Glovebox; Inert atmosphere;Experimental ProcedureTris(4-methoxyphenyl)phosphine oxide (2a)General procedure: 1a (70.5 mg, 0.20 mmol), 4-phenylthioxanthone (3 mg, 0.01 mmol), CH3OH (30 mL) were added to a pyrex reaction flash which was equipped with a magnetic stirrer. The mixture was irradiated by a 23 W household lamp at rt under air atmosphere. The photoreaction was completed after 40 minutes as monitored by TLC (eluent: petroleum ether). The solvent was removed and the residue was purified by flash column chromatography on silica gel (eluent: petroleum ether/ethyl acetate = 10/1→EA) to afford 2a as a solid (74 mg, 100%); 1H NMR (400 MHz, CDCl3) δ 7.56 (dd, J = 11.6, 8.8 Hz, 6 H), 6.95 (dd, J = 8.8, 2.0 Hz, 6 H), 3.83 (s, 9 H).91%With hydrogen In ethyl acetate under 760.051 With dihydrogen peroxide In tetrahydrofuran; water for 0.533333h;88% Safety and Hazards Pictogram(s)SignalWarningGHS Hazard StatementsH315 (100%): Causes skin irritation H319 (100%): Causes serious eye irritation H335 (97.6%): May cause respiratory irritation H413 (95.1%): May cause long lasting harmful effects to aquatic life Precautionary Statement CodesP261, P264, P264+P265, P271, P273, P280, P302+P352, P304+P340, P305+P351+P338, P319, P321, P332+P317, P337+P317, P362+P364, P403+P233, P405, and P501(The corresponding statement to each P-code can be found at the GHS Classification page.) Other Data TransportationSlowly oxidized in the air for a long time, vacuum pack, and store in cold storageHS CodeStorageSlowly oxidized in the air for a long time, vacuum pack, and store in cold storageShelf Life1 year DruglikenessLipinski rules componentMolecular Weight263.279logP4.78HBA1HBD0Matching Lipinski Rules4Veber rules componentPolar Surface Area (PSA)26.48Rotatable Bond (RotB)3Matching Veber Rules2 Use PatternLigand in metal-catalyzed reactions:Carbonylation: Facilitates the introduction of carbonyl groups into organic molecules.Hydration: Aids in the addition of water to unsaturated compounds, forming alcohols or other functionalized derivatives.Dehydrogenative coupling: Promotes coupling reactions by removing hydrogen, often forming C-C or C-N bonds.Carbostannylation: Catalyzes the introduction of stannyl (Sn) groups into organic compounds.Dimethylstannylation: Specific variant of stannylation, introducing dimethylstannyl groups.Silylation: Facilitates the introduction of silyl groups, improving stability and reactivity of substrates.Reagent in Mitsunobu reactions:Used in the conversion of alcohols to various functional groups, such as esters, ethers, or amines, under mild conditions. Read the full article

[news365times]

TVS Motor Company Unveils the Upgraded TVS Apache RR 310 with Advanced Features

TVS Motor Company (TVSM) - a leading global automaker in the two and three-wheeler segment - unveiled the updated TVS Apache RR310 – its flagship offering in the Super Premium Sports Motorcycle category. The 2025 edition is compliant to the OBD-2B norms. It commemorates the 20th anniversary of the TVS Apache series and the milestone of surpassing 6 million customers worldwide.   2025 TVS Apache RR310 in a new Sepang Blue Race Replica Colour Scheme   The TVS Apache RR 310 is a masterpiece forged from over four decades of TVS Racing dominance. Engineered for pure performance, it takes inspiration from the record-shattering machine that dominated the Asia Road Racing Championship (ARRC) with a best lap time of 1:49.742 seconds and a blazing top speed of 215.9 km/h. This isn’t just a motorcycle—it’s a statement of speed, precision, and racing pedigree.   First launched in 2017, the Apache RR310 has been a pioneer in the super sport motorcycle segment, setting benchmarks in power, technology, and design. With continuous evolution, the latest upgrade introduces key enhancements that elevate its appeal and riding experience.   Added Features   The all-new TVS Apache RR 310 will be available in two variants with three BTO customization options. Designed for pure super sport performance, it features an aggressive fully-faired design and race-focused ergonomics for optimal control on the track. Equipped with four dynamic riding modes - Track, Sport, Urban, and Rain; it adapts seamlessly to varying conditions. Powering the machine is a refined reverse-inclined DOHC engine, delivering an impressive 38 PS at 9,800 rpm and a peak torque of 29 Nm at 7,900 rpm, ensuring an exhilarating ride.   Segment First Features Sequential TSL Cornering Drag Torque Control (RT-DSC) Additional New Features Launch Control (RT-DSC) Gen-2 Race Computer with Multi Language Support 8 Spoke Alloy Wheels Speaking about the launch, Vimal Sumbly, Head Business – Premium, TVS Motor Company, said, "Since its debut in 2017, the TVS Apache RR 310 has emerged as a formidable force in the super-premium sport motorcycle segment, redefining performance benchmarks through its race-bred DNA. Rooted in over 43 years of TVS Racing heritage, it embodies our relentless pursuit of innovation and excellence. The latest evolution of the RR 310 integrates cutting-edge technologies such as segment-first : sequential turn signal lamps (TSL), Launch Control, and Drag Torque Control—reinforcing our leadership in rider-focused advancements. The new BTO Race Replica colourway pays tribute to our record-breaking TVS Asia One Make Championship legacy. With this latest avatar, the Apache RR 310 not only pushes the boundaries of track performance but also elevates everyday rideability—delivering a thrilling yet refined experience that appeals to both spirited racers and discerning enthusiasts.”   A striking new Sepang Blue Race Replica colour scheme inspired from the TVS Asia OMC race bike has been introduced with the upgraded TVS Apache RR310.   TVS Apache RR310 will be available in three standard SKUs and three BTO (Built to Order) customizations, with ex-showroom pricing as follows:   Variant Price (Ex-Showroom India) Red (without quickshifter) Rs. 2,77,999 Red (with quickshifter) Rs. 2,94,999 Bomber Grey Rs. 2,99,999 BTO (Built To Order) Dynamic Kit Dynamic Pro Kit Race Replica Colour Rs 18,000 Rs 16,000 Rs 10,000   Bookings for the new TVS Apache RR310 is now open.   The latest updates reaffirm TVS Apache RR 310’s position as a leader in the super premium motorcycle category.

With advanced rider aids and premium features, it continues to push the boundaries of technology and performance, offering riders an exhilarating experience on the road and track.   About TVS Motor Company TVS Motor Company (BSE:532343 and NSE: TVSMOTOR) is a reputed two and three-wheeler manufacturer globally, championing progress through sustainable mobility with four state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities located in India and Indonesia. Rooted in our 100-year legacy of trust, value, and passion for customers, it takes pride in making internationally accepted products of the highest quality through innovative and sustainable processes. TVS Motor is the only two-wheeler company to have won the prestigious Deming Prize. Our products lead in their respective categories in the J.D. Power IQS and APEAL surveys. We have been ranked No. 1 Company in the J.D. Power Customer Service Satisfaction Survey for four consecutive years. Our group company Norton Motorcycles, based in the United Kingdom, is one of the most emotive motorcycle brands in the world. Our subsidiaries in the personal e-mobility space, Swiss E-Mobility Group (SEMG) and EGO Movement have a leading position in the e-bike market in Switzerland. TVS Motor Company endeavours to deliver the most superior customer experience across 80 countries in which we operate.   For more information, please visit www.tvsmotor.com. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e); s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '311356416665414'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); Source link