#i’m on the edge of my seat gm

[gremoria411]

Mobile Suit Generations in the Universal Century

Alright, another lineage post, kinda (I will finish that 00 one eventually).

Now in my post about how the Zaku series changed over time, I mentioned briefly that I don’t really see the Universal Century Gundam series as being much of a lineage, primarily because it’s an absolute mess. However, I do want to do a post talking about the Gundam “line” in some more detail at some point. So I thought I’d make this post beforehand as a sort of preliminary excercise. Because it’s rather difficult to talk about Gundams in universal century without talking about Mobile Suit Generations themselves.

So, What are Mobile Suit Generations?

In brief; as mobile suit technology in Universal Century developed, there were a number of concepts that would revolutionise the entire field, and lead to mobile suit design being completely different as time went on. New technologies, new theories, new design ethos, that sort of thing. And because Gundam units were so often cutting-edge, these new ideas would typically be applied to them. A new generation represents a massive leap forward for the technology, meaning that development occurred very quickly. I’ve thrown around the terms before, typically when talking about fourth-generation mobile suits, but I figured I’d do a post outlining the different mobile suit generations, what their characteristics are, give some examples and talk about any noteworthy oddities.

Disclaimer: as it ever is with UC, there’s a lot that doesn’t divide cleanly here. Some mobile suits are easier to categorise than others, and there can be a lot of overlap between the generations, so I’ll be looking more at broad trends than categorising everything. I’m also gonna skip over a lot of detail here in the name of this post actually being of reasonable length.

First Generation Mobile Suits

Named retroactively and also the easiest to categorise. First-Generation mobile suits encompasses every mobile suit built prior to the Gryps War - Zaku’s, GM’s, RX-78’s, Pale Riders, the Gundam Development Project - all First-Gen mobile suits. First-Gen’s a broad category because it’s every suit on both sides of the OYW, and because mobile suits were still a very new technology there was an absolute range on design ethos and styles. First-Generation mobile suits really only share a timeframe of manufacture, there isn’t really much else to tie them together.

Second Generation Mobile Suits

The only (technically) Mobile Suit Generation to straight-up replace its predecessor and also one of only two generations to incorporate actual definitions (at least as far as I can tell). While the later generations tended to focus on one aspect of mobile suits, Second-Generation mobile suits were an all-around improvement over the second generation. They were characterised by three main features:

The movable frame - rather than just providing structure as was the case previous, the movable frame incorporates all the critical components required to actually move the unit, with the weapons armour and propellant tanks being externalised. This allows for easier maintenance, greater mobility and improved energy efficiency.

360-degree panoramic cockpit and linear seat - technically two improvements, but a “better cockpit” in a nutshell. The 360-degree panoramic cockpit allowed for a much greater field of view for the pilot, especially when compared to the old, cramped cockpits of the OYW, while the linear seat helped reduce the effect of g-forces on the pilot (and also made it easier to eject in the case of being shot down).

Gundarium y alloy - one of several refined versions of the original Gundarium used in the RX-78 series, Gundarium y was lightweight and durable, making it the armour of choice for second-generation mobile suits, allowing them to shrug off blows that would be lethal to earlier models, while remaining manoeuvrable enough that they could dodge such blows.

The most famous Second-Generation mobile suits would be the Gundam Mk-II and the Rick Dias, despite the fact that they each lacked one feature from the above list (the Mk-II had the older titanium alloy ceramic composite armour, whereas the Rick Dias lacked a movable frame). As previously mentioned, Second-generation mobile suits became the benchmark going forwards, and this wasn’t changed until the advent of miniaturised mobile suits in the U.C. 110’s. The Jegan, which would be the mainline mobile suit for the federation for over sixty years, was a Second-Generation mobile suit, typically likened to a mass-produced Gundam Mk-II.

Which brings us to our first oddity I want to talk about - the Dowas Custom. The original Dowas was the final production unit of the Zeon’s Dom line during the One Year War. The precise shakedown of their use and deployment is unclear - the Dowas is derived from the Rick Dom II, which was part of the latewar United Maintenance Plan, but there are reports of Dowas Desert types conducting operations in the wake of the Battle of Odessa - they could be early prototypes, or the Desert units came first and were later refined into the regular Dowas, or the Pezun Dowadge doesn’t count because it wasn’t a production unit…….

Anyway, at least one Dowas unit was brought to Axis by Zeon remnants fleeing A Baoa Qu, where it would be refined and upgraded with Axis’ latest technologies, and then supplied to the nascaent AEUG. That unit was the MS-09SS Dowas Custom, seen in Anaheim Laboratory Log. I won’t spoil the precise details of the hand-off, but you can probably guess from the colour scheme that it involves a certain individual who’s never heard of this Char Aznable fella, dear me no.

But the reason I’m talking about the Dowas Custom here is that it would be reverse-engineered in order to create the Rick Dias, one of the first Second-Generation Mobile suits. But where does that leave the Dowas Custom? Is it First-Gen, or Second-Gen? Well, it’s got Gundarium Alloy Armour (presumably y, since it’s the best one), however we know it doesn’t have a movable frame - neither the original Dom, nor its successor the Rick Dias incorporate one, so it’s very unlikely it has one. So then we come to the cockpit, and I’ve genuinely no idea what kind it employs. So I tend to consider it as an in-between, generation wise.

Third-Generation Mobile Suits

Transformable mobile suits, in a nutshell. Transformable mobile suits were considered an huge advantage during the gryps war, as they allowed for faster deployment, increased scouting range and, in many cases, were able to be transferred from Earth to space more easily than standard mobile suits. The latter half of the Gryps War and early stages of the First Neo Zeon War (Zeta Gundam to ZZ Gundam), are typically considered the golden age of Transformable mobile suits, with such luminaries such as the Zeta Gundam, Bawoo, Messala and Gabthley. Due to the aforementioned advantages, Third-Gen suits continued to develop after this period, giving rise to the Rezel and Delta Plus seen during Unicorn.

Interestingly, what is technically the first Third-Generation mobile suit, the Delta Gundam, was laid down during the early stages of the Gryps War but never built, simply because Anaheim couldn’t figure out how to make the frame work until Kamille Bidan managed to fix the problems with the Zeta, at which point Anaheim was so busy with other projects (like the Zeta Project) that they didn’t have time to review the Delta Gundam until after the war.

However, it is nice to have at least one generation with the relatively simple description of “if it transforms, it’s probably a third-generation suit”

Right?

If it wasn’t for this fucking thing.

Cards on the table, I really like the Gundam Mk-V. It’s nice. But, maddeningly, it’s also one of the only suits that we have an actual, in-universe definition for which mobile suit generation it falls into - “A third-generation mobile suit with the firepower of a fourth”. So it’s a third-generation mobile suit that doesn’t transform. What. Also, It’s the only thing that’s like this - The Gaza-C is a third-gen, because it can transform - The Jegan is a second-gen, because it doesn’t fit into third or fourth-gen categories. Why is a non-transforming suit a third-gen? Very annoying. Based on this, I’m led to conclude that what qualifies a suit as a member of the Third-Generation *has* to be something to do with frame structure, not necessarily transformation, given that the Mark-V doesn’t transform (Or it’s an error on the part of whoever wrote the description).

Fourth Generation Mobile Suits

Speaking of, I should really define fourth generation mobile suits, shouldn’t I? In one word: firepower. Fourth-Generation mobile suits were a product of greatly improved generator output, plus several noteworthy developments in Newtype tech. Any Newtype-specialist mobile suit after the gryps war is most likely part of the Fourth-Generation. The best-known fourth-generation mobile suits would be the ZZ Gundam, S Gundam and Döven Wolf. Axis was a major leader in Fourth-Gen tech, with such units as the Hamma-Hamma and, of course, the Qubeley. Several of these mobile suits were also combiners, such as the aforementioned Gundam’s, though this was later dropped as it led to compatibility and maintenance issues. Fourth-Generation mobile suits were also comparatively rare compared to those of earlier generations - likely due to the rarity of the newtypes that were typically their favoured pilots. The Döven Wolf has the distinction of being one of the few mass-produced Fourth-Generation mobile suits, likely because Axis had the resources to devote to it. Fourth-Generation mobile suits are also unique in that we (arguably) see an upper limit to the technology - the Gundam Unicorn, which is pretty goddamn scary.

Fifth-Generation Mobile Suits

A very easy one here, a) there’s only two mobile suits classed as fifth-generation at present - the Xi Gundam and the Penelope; and b) it’s got a nice, simple definition - fifth-generation mobile suits are equipped with a Minovsky craft system, allowing for unrestricted flight within the atmosphere.

The Minovsky Craft system is essentially how Gundam deals with all those horribly un-aerodynamic flying mobile armours - they incorporate minovsky craft systems, allowing for flight within the atmosphere (like the Psycho Gundam and the Adzam). The Xi Gundam and Penelope however, are actually light and aerodynamic, meaning that they can function more as mobile interceptors as opposed to flying city blocks. Honestly, I don’t have much more to say on this one.

Miniaturised Mobile Suits

Not really a generation per se, but I figured I’d cover my bases here. Miniaturised mobile suits were pioneered by SNRI, the Earth Federation’s in-house weapon development team, in around the UC 90’s to UC 100’s (such as the Loto and Heavygun). It eventually became standard practice after SNRI development data was stolen in UC 116, allowing other manufacturers to develop miniaturised mobile suits.

The main distinctions between miniaturised mobile suits and their forebears is, well, they were smaller. The Gundam F90 stood at only 14.8 meters tall compared to the original RX-78’s 18 meter height. This was due to a miniaturisation of the thermonuclear reactor used in mobile suits, and the development on new armour materials that allowed the armour and mobile frame to be made lighter without compromising its structural strength. Miniaturised mobile suits also used less resources than traditional ones to construct, allowing militaries to get more bang-for-their-buck, as it were (though given the prevalence of large mobile armours in late UC, being able to spend those resources elsewhere may also have something to do with it).

[riverkingmarley]

I really hate the scene with Sophia in Imp’s epilogue.

Many people with better understandings of racism and misogyny have written about how Sophia is treated in worm, so I won’t talk about that as much. What I will talk about is how it feels like she should get a happy ending.

Sophia is used mostly as a prop throughout worm. She attacks Taylor before she is revealed to be a hero while unconscious in order to show how the heros/police don’t exist to protect people and often abuse their power without consequences. Then she’s used to show the audience that revenge and retribution are bad with how horrifying it is when regent tortures her.

The torture scene includes the first bit of complex character work we see of Sophia, with her relationship to her family and how she feels about “Steven”. It feels like a great jumping off point to really humanize her and get to see her grow as a character. It would be really interesting to see her get worse as a great way to show that Sophia getting hurt won’t magically make her grow as a person or feel bad about hurting Taylor*. Unfortunately, we do not see more of Sophia for a long time.

The next two times we see her she is used as a brief character moment for Emma and as a reaction shot to Skitters identity reveal.

Then we don’t see her again until the ending, where Taylor works with her in the cauldron raid. We get a lot of interesting moments here where Sophia is forced to examine her relationship with her mother and is told that her mother loves her and that she should try to reconnect. It comes within centimetres of humanizing her and if this was the last we saw of her I would have been on the edge of my seat hoping to find a fanfic or a bit in Ward that shows where she ended up. Instead, we get a scene with her in the epilogue.

In this scene, we see Sophia same as she always has been. She hasn’t had any growth at all. Instead, she seems furious over Taylor having shown her up and is upset that people wear the GM symbol in her memory. Then imp erases her memories to mess with her and leaves.

When I first read this scene I thought it was maybe a message on how healing is slow and that one chat with Sophia didn’t suddenly fix all of her issues. After sitting with it a while I’ve come to the conclusion that this was actually just a bit of revenge, showing how sophia lost and Taylor won and now imp gets to laugh at her. Completely forgetting the message from Alec’s interlude. It sucks. She should have gotten a character arc, she’s in so much of the book.

:(

* I mainly mention this because I’m annoyed by every “Sophia redemption” fic that includes her getting horribly tortured and then suddenly being a cool person. That or complete mischaracterization. Please someone write a good Sophia fic 2024.

[thathusenfulhu]

sri lankan @ belle amie bistro

it's thursday night. i'm at the kanmathee shop to fuel myself up on some coffee, and get a can of hundred plus for later, to take the edge off. the women behind the counter are boisterous tonight. 'a guy came to buy a bunch of tonic water earlier,' says one. 'ah,' says i. 'i asked him why he needed so much,' she smiles knowingly. oh dear. 'he said it's great with a slice of lime and asked me to try it,' she continues, her face barely containing her delight. 'so i got some tonic and asked sleyman at the back to get me a lime and a glass, while the guy's still around. and when the drink was in front of me, he said 'i'll come back later tonight with the secret ingredient.'' and she lets loose a guffaw, while the other belts out long, screeching peals of laughter. funny women. anyway, i'm on a special mission tonight - i heard on the grapevine that the somerset does an exceptional sri lankan buffet on thursday evening. and that's where i'm headed. i meet ganesh at the hotel - he's the general manager, a young, shrewd sri lankan who's been there since the female gm departed many years ago. 'glad you could make it,' he says grabbing my arm in the lobby. he's casual tonight, but fresh and clean in a snug t-shirt and jeans. i spot head chef wicum by the live hopper stand. 'can i take a video of the chef?' i ask. 'you'll have to wait for him to put some makeup machan,' says ganesh. funny man. the buffet is magnificent. i decide on a combo of chicken curry, tempered potatoes, dahl, caramelised eggplant, gotu kola salad, and yellow rice. at my seat, i look around and see the bistro has attracted some high profile people, who look and speak comfortably enough to be regulars. i can hear them from my table at the far corner. they sound exuberant. one of them walks past me. 'husenfulhu!' she says. 'what are you doing here?' of course, my presence in a bastion of the elite might raise a few eyebrows, it certainly has hers. 'i'm here for work,' i tell her. she seems satisfied with the answer. 'what do you do now?' 'the same thing,' i say. she nods - it's an answer she can accept and she waddles her considerable girth across the oatmeal tiles towards her quarry for a second round. meanwhile, i make short work of my first. the combination is a charmer - the sweet eggplant counters the heat of the curry and potatoes while the dahl rounds it off with a deliciously thick, grainy texture. and little, concentrated bursts of flavour come through the gotu kola salad. this is next level sri lankan. 'how was it?' asks ganesh as i leave. 'i'm coming back next week,' i say. 'your blog is only worth one free meal machan,' he responds. 'bring ten friends and i give you one dinner, no charge.' so if any of you want sri lankan this thursday...

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

a/n: this is my submission for @antoineroussel 's summer fic exchange 2k21! thank you for organizing this all demi. i recieved @timstuetzle and i am so excited to finally share this! im sorry it's so late but i had a lot of fun writing for Tim and i hope i did him justice! i made this a gender neutral reader again, so please enjoy my take on some friends to enemies to lovers :)

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

warnings: some angst, set in no covid-universe, a few swears, an odd timeline

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! the banner is made by me, with photos found from pinterest and the transparent made by @art-and-the-hockeys (thank you!!!)

The start of the season was your favourite. The chill of the rink, the sound of skate edges on the ice, the smell of skate sharpening- it was all so familiar. As an analyst, the start was the best. There were new lineups, new plays, and a chance to try new things. Considering this was your first year as a real analyst, not just checking over others' work, you were excited. You got to actually help to build a Stanley Cup winning team.

What you didn’t love was how everyone seemed to lose their heads and decide to run around the arena. You’d been looking for the coach of the Ottawa Senators for the past twenty minutes. You’d think the man would be in his office the first day back, but no. He decides to take a stroll to who-knows-where and leaves you to follow invisible breadcrumbs.

Eventually, you found yourself on one of the lower levels. You continued down the hallway, entering an open space with concrete floors. The bustle of the new season was in full swing as you swerved between various people working like gears in a machine. You tried to do your best to stay out of other people’s way but you still ended up walking into a hard surface.

“Oof!” Shit. Hard surfaces don’t usually talk. You looked up at what you ran into and saw two men staring at you. Both were wearing Senators hoodies but one was a taller blond and the other a slightly shorter brunet. The brunet has a backwards snapback on but that wasn't what made you stop in your tracks. It was his eyes. They were soft and welcoming, something like a home cooked meal, but they had a glint of adventure in them.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I am so sorry.” You apologized to the blond you ran into.

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

“Number 7.” You turned toward the brunet. “And...number 18, right?” When they both gave you a weird look, you shrugged. “I’m an analyst here so, uh, you’re just numbers to me.”

“Okay, ouch but you are the reason we’re going to be winning more games this season, so I'll give it to you. I’m Brady, and this is Jimmy.” The blond gestured to himself first, before gesturing beside him.

“It’s Tim, actually.”

You introduced yourself to the two players, before looking around the hallways. “Um, would either of you happen to know where the coach is? I can’t find him,” You held up the file folders in your hands. “I’ve got new numbers for him.”

“Oh yeah he’s probably close to the ice, we’ll show you.” Brady started down a hallway, both you and Tim falling in stride behind him. “So Numbers-”

“-Y/n-” You glared at Brady for the nickname, rolling your eyes as he continued on. From your peripheral vision, you saw the corners of Tim's mouth turn up.

“-If you don’t mind me saying….either you look really good for your age, or you aren’t old enough to be working here,” He continued, giving a glance your way.

You looked down at your shoes and gave a sigh. “I get that a lot, and I am young-er than my colleagues but I assure you, I am qualified to work for this organization.”

“Wasn’t doubting that, just seeing how much I get to tease ya. Jimmy’s the rookie,” He elbowed him and Tim tried to swerve around it, only to bump into a stack of pylons. Brady and you shared a grin at his expense. “So he gets all the teasing. Same for the numbers people. You’re the rookie.” He shrugged

“Well, I’m not actually a rookie anymore. This is my second year here,” You mentioned, looking towards the two guys. Brady looked impressed whereas Tim’s eyes went large and his jaw slack a little.

“How?” He asked, and you laughed. The three of you turned a corner, and you walked slightly faster to talk.

“I graduated high school pretty early. And then took my statistics undergrad at the University of Ottawa. I minored in sports studies and I met your GM at a conference for the department. When he found out I was in Ottawa alone, he kinda took me under his wing, checked in every now and again. When I graduated two years ago, he offered me an analyst position and I was lucky enough to land it. I love working here, even if I’m way younger than everyone else. Last year, I stayed in my office a lot, double checking people’s work but this year, they gave me more responsibility. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You are going to be great.” Tim said, meeting your eyes, his gaze showing that his comment was genuine. You ducked away from his gaze but muttered a ‘thanks’. The three of you rounded another corner, Brady ducking out to talk to a reporter, but Tim said he’d help you find the coach.

You settled into a comfortable silence as you walked beside each other through the chilled hallways. He abruptly took a left turn, cutting you off and causing you to bump into him. You immediately apologized, this being the second time today you’d run into a hockey player.

“‘S my fault, I’m still getting used to the new arena,” He said, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He nodded his head down the hallway, as a silent ‘after you’ and you started walking. As you got further down, you realized Tim walked you out to the bench. The light became brighter, the air a little crisper, and the floor turned from a concrete grey to a bright red. Your eyes wandered up, admiring the view from down here. You’d be truthful earlier, you’d only ever visited your office. But from down here, you could see everything- the thousands of seats, the banners hanging from the ceiling, the crystal white ice. You stood close to the wall, as if to try to intimidate a fly on a wall, seeing everything as if you weren’t there. You could feel Tim could up from behind you, letting you take it all in for the first time.

“That’s Coach,” He leaned closer to you as he pointed across the ice towards someone in a tracksuit. You nodded and although Tim dropped his hand, he stayed close to you. The coach eventually noticed the two of you and started to skate over to the bench. Tim cleared his throat and you looked at him.

“I got to- I have to go now, but, um, I’ll see you around?” You nodded to his question, a soft smile on your lips. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he knew he had to leave but he kept getting pulled towards you. “Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck with yours too.” At that he turned away from you, and you turned to the coach, pulling out your file folder to talk with him.

***

A week or two later and the start of the season was upon the Canadian Tire Centre. The home opener was in a few days and your week had been hectic, trying to get notes from practices and implement what you saw into your analysis. After a morning full of spreadsheets, you decided to take your lunch break in your sanctuary. Last year, the arena felt too big to stick around in on your lunch break. So you had headed outside, where you discovered a small hiking trail about a ten minute drive from work. It quickly became a place where you went whenever you needed to clear your head. And after the morning you had, it was the perfect place to go, so you hopped in your car and started towards it.

At the top of the hill, you put the car in park, grabbed your lunch bag and started towards your spot. It was past the picnic tables that had a nice view of the suburbs, but it wasn't secluded. Your spot was off the beaten path, but there was a small ledge with a perfect view of the arena, highway, and surrounding green spaces. You turn the corner, ducking under a tree branch, ready to exhale the heck of the morning you had.

But there was already someone sitting in your spot. Their head was down, but you recognized the logo and number 18 on their hoodie. Cautiously, you approached him.

“18...Is it okay if I sit here?” You asked, and his head shot up. He shot you a small smile and quick nod. You sat down, placing your bag in front of you, taking out a granola bar.

“You can call me Tim, you know. That is my name,” You gave him a shy smile and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his comment.

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place, Tim,” You mentioned quietly. It felt weird, to be honest, to be sharing your spot with someone, but it didn’t feel like he was intruding.

“My city in Germany has a lot of parks. There’s a forest near my house where I’d go when I needed a break. This is the closest I could find near the rink. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t go telling the whole team about our place,” you winked at him and took a bite of your snack.

“I can keep a secret, don’t worry.” He laughed lightly and sent you a smile.

“I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“You’re the analyst, you graduated super early right? Y/n, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You smiled at him. “So, how are you liking Ottawa?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen very much of it. The ice is very good. My house is nice.” He shrugged and you gaped at him.

“That’s all you’ve seen? So you haven’t been to Parliament Hill or ByWard market or…?” you trailed off when you saw him biting his bottom lip and slowly shaking his head. “Well, you are missing out, you should go see the city sometime.”

“Do you think you could show me around? You seem to know all the best places,” He offered. You met his eyes and nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket, passing it over to you. You raised your eyebrows at the gesture but he just pushed his phone closer to you. Silently, you imputed your number, placing a small graph emoji beside your contact name. You handed it back to him and a small smirk graced his face when he saw the emoji, before he pursed his lips at the device. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s all good. Thank you. It’s- I have to go back now, but I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded as he handed back your phone. He walked towards the parking lot, but turned around to wave at you before he disappeared around the bend.

Later that day as you sat in the stands, a clipboard and pen in your hands, you got a text from an unknown number.

Hi

It's 18 :)

You chuckled at his use of his number and texted him back.

i thought you said i could call you tim? :(

also it’s practice?? how are you on your phone?

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

Guess I'll see you in the stands then :)

Oh and I'm free this weekend for that showing of the city, team bonding’s on friday

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

now get out on the ice or you’re going to be late :)

***

You had checked your schedule, and agreed to meet that Saturday. You said you’d pick him up since you knew more of the city. You didn't want to be late so you arrived five minutes early in front of Tim's place. He walked out in his signature backwards snapback, some curls poking out the front, and a monochromatic beige outfit. Waving animatedly at you, he jogged to the car, his ever present smile on his face.

The twenty minutes ride into the city was quiet yet comfortable. A few words were exchanged about how each other’s day was so far but nothing groundbreaking. The low hum of the engine filled the silence as you drove into the city.

After parking in a Superstore (‘Free parking in downtown Ottawa is hard to come by, Tim. We’re parking in the grocery store parking lot’) and walking a few blocks, you come to the far end of the market. Lined with local businesses and brick streets, it felt homey. Tim smiled as it reminded him of back home.

“So, what are we going to see first? Your school?” He asked as the two of you walked along the streets. You laughed and shook your head.

“Pfft no. It isn’t all that interesting. I figured we’d see some of my favourite places, if that’s okay?” He assured you it was and the two of you continued through the streets, Tim with his head down as you passed people. He wasn't famous just yet, but in Canada you find hockey fans at every corner. Soon, you arrived in a small plaza with coloured picnic tables and muskoka chairs.

“Ta-da!” You gestured to the large block letters that spelled ‘Ottawa’ in the middle of the space. “It’s not much, but you’ve got to be a tourist in your own city at least once right?” He laughed along with you and you got out your phone, ready to take a picture of him so he could send it to his parents. You thought he would want a picture of him but he was quick to insist you had to be in the picture as well.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked one of the girls who were taking turns with the Ottawa sign.

“Oh sure!” You stood beside him, between the two ‘T’s in Ottawa, his arm slung over your shoulders. You smiled and looked up at Tim to see him smiling as well- and not one of those classic boy coy half smiles, a genuine one. She took a few landscape and a few portrait ones before handing your phone back. “You two are such a cute couple!”

Before you could correct the girl, Tim answered for you. “We’re just friends actually.” She apologized profusely before rejoining her group. You shuffled your feet as an awkward silence overcame you for the first time since you’d met. Your body shivered and you promptly changed the subject.

“Hey, you hungry?” He shrugged and nodded. You nodded and led him away from the sign, through a few back alleys lined with a few merchants, home artists and such. You entered a building, bustling with people. It was long and narrow, with brick flooring and merchants on either side of the middle. There were lots of people, ranging from people doing their weekly grocery shopping to tourists looking for souvenirs. You weaved between strollers and friend groups, Tim grabbing your hand to avoid getting lost. He kept his head low, hoping it would disguise him enough. This day was about you and him, not you, him and the hockey world. Eventually, the two of you exited the indoor market and came to a small opening. Instead of staying in the opening, you turned left, tugging Tim across the street to two small shacks, one red and one blue. The red one had a classic fairytale vibe to it, with beige wainscotting, red painted window frames, and topped with a white and light brown canopy over the window. Underneath the canopy, there was a string of small Canadian flags.

“Do you trust me?” He arched one of his eyebrows but nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Confused, Tim stood there as you walked up the window, spending no time looking at the menu as you ordered. He looked above the shack to see in fancy lettering the word BeaverTails. When you came back, you were holding two paper containers and had a smile on your face. He looked at the sign and then back to the bags in your hands.

“A beaver’s… tail?” You laughed at him and handed him his BeaverTail.

“It’s not actually a beaver’s tail. It’s just a fried pastry that looks like one. They come in lots of flavours but I got you the best one, cinnamon sugar.” You could tell he was hesitant but bit into his and you took a bite of your own.

Almost instantly, he groaned. “Do you take every guy here? Wow. Oh my god,” He got cinnamon smeared over his chin and you laughed as he tried to wipe it off while holding his pastry.

“Hilarious Tim, but I’ll have you know you’re like my only friend here. So… no I don’t take anyone here.” He scoffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You’re joking. How do you not have other friends? You’re great,”

“I started university as a 16 year math major. It’s not a surprise people didn’t want to talk to me. But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

“Don’t you have people from home come and visit?”

You scoffed. “I don’t really get along with my mum. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I always sorta resented her for not seeing how it affected me. And then, when I got accepted to school out here, she sold the house and started travelling. Last I talked to her, she was in Tahiti.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What about your dad? Or brothers or sisters?” You swallowed your piece of BeaverTail before answering him.

“I have an older sister, Dani. But she’s eight years older than me, so we're not the closest. She checks in every week or so because she knows my mum doesn't. She’s never come out to visit though, she runs her own business back in Seattle.”

“It must be nice to have someone though. Especially when you were growing up. What about your dad?”

“I don’t- I don’t talk about my dad.” You picked at the pastry before changing the topic. “C’mon, you have to see this place.” You gestured to a side street and the two of you made your way towards your favourite destination. You exited beside a taller building and you pressed the button to allow the two of you to cross the street. As you were waiting for the light to turn, you turned to Tim.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any siblings then?”

“No, but the guys at the rink were like my brothers so it wasn’t bad.” The light turned red, and the ‘walk’ light turned on. You made your way across, staying close to each other as people walked both ways.

“Hockey tends to do that,”

“Is that why you picked to work in hockey?”

You glared at him as you made it across the street. “That’s personal.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends share personal stuff.”

“That’s… it’s just different.” You shook your head and lowered the volume of your voice. “Besides, we’re here.” The two of you had stopped in front of some shallow steps that led to a tall archway, with black statues underneath and on top of the arch. It had some engravings on it, both small and large letters. From where they were standing, Tim could make out some numbers, but not well enough to understand the significance. Behind the monument and slightly to the right was the green tipped roof and gothic architecture of the Parliament building.

“What is this place?” He tilted his head as he looked at the arch in the middle of the square. To him, it wasn’t anything special, perhaps another statue of one of the colonizers of the country.

“It’s Canada’s war memorial.” You whispered, and he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his body and lowering his head. “When I was going to school, I’d come here at least once a week.”

His head stayed where it was but he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Why?”

“I know it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite place...because I know so many people died for the country, but for me, it’s a place of silence. Of reflection. It reminds me to be grateful for everything I have. Some days school would be really bad, so this place was perfect to sit and remember that life isn’t bad at all. Not when I was in a safe country, not when I had an education, not when I had a warm house to go back to.”

He nodded. “That seems...perfect. Some days are too loud, there’s too many people saying stuff. I get that.” His voice was quiet as well, as he lifted his head to focus on the stonework and engravings. The two of you stood in silence in front of the memorial for a few minutes more before you tugged on his arm.

“See that building?” You leaned in close to him, your finger extending to point at a building in the distance, a little taller than the ones around it. “That’s the university’s mathematics and physics department. I had most of my classes in that building.” He nodded, leaning in closer to you, your heads almost touching. You lowered your hand and nodded with your head towards the way you came.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet. You’ve got to see the Parliament building.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed left towards it. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him right. “I’m the tour guide, remember? Trust me, there’s a better view.” You dropped his hand as he started to walk in time with you but you had to shove it in your pocket to replace the heat his hands gave you.

A quick ten minutes walk later and you stood atop a hill overlooking the river. It was a large park with benches and an eccentric art installation in the corner. You walked close to the peak of the hill and stopped, breathing in the fresh air.

“There is Canada’s capital building. It’s nicer to see it from here than from the front where there’s a bunch of tourists. Besides, from here, you get to see more of the architecture.” The building was across the river, its massiveness more pronounced from your viewpoint. There was a dome nearest the river that was covered in flying buttresses, each support beam having intricate details that stood out. The clock tower and green tinted roof completed the gothic look.

“This view is better. Quieter. It reminds me more of home,” You bump your shoulder against his lightly.

“Glad you like it.” The two of you stood in silence until Tim shivered, at which case you decided you should start heading back. If the hockey player was cold, it was cold enough for you too.

The walk and drive back was uneventful, aside from the two of you passing jokes back and forth. When it came to drop him off, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t make an effort to leave the vehicle.

“How much for our snack? I’ll pay you back,”

You waved him off. “It was my treat, don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips, then shook it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, your phone dinged. You glared at him as you opened the text to see an e-transfer. Before you could protest, he cut you off.

“You never said I couldn’t pay for your gas," He laughed, and despite your annoyance at the loophole, you found yourself laughing along with him. He had that effect on you; he seemed to be able to ease any tension you held. “I had a good time today. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at the rink?” He nodded before getting out of your car, waving like he did that morning as you drove off to your place. When you arrived home, you saw a new text from him.

Can you send those pictures you took today?

You tried to suppress a smile, sending them over to which he responded with a ‘Thank youuuu’. You set your phone on your nightstand and turned off the light. Despite your efforts, you fell asleep with a smile on your face from a perfect day with a great person.

***

“Hey, Numbers!” You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Brady sticking his head out of the dressing room. He had taken a liking to calling you that, especially as you had started hanging around the house more. It was nice, movie nights and sometimes you’d take a pre-game nap with Tim, you had even stayed for lunch at Tim’s request. At this point, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Brady to shout the nickname from anywhere. Practice had ended and you had given your notes to the coach about what to focus on for the Toronto game. “You didn’t happen to see Jimmy, did you?” When you shook your head, his face scrunched into a small frown.

“Where’d he go? Didn’t media like just end?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t even bother to change from media, he just stalked out. He didn’t say anything to any of the guys, so I thought you might’ve seen him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout for him,” You told Brady before he returned to finish dressing and you returned to your office. But even after you’d settled back into your work, there was a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place. Sending a quick text off to Tim, asking where he was, you dove back into work. But it only took five minutes before you were checking your phone, seeing if he’d read the text or responded. When neither happened, you gave him a call. It sent you straight to voicemail and you hung up before you could leave a message. The feeling in your stomach grew and you packed up your bag, knowing no more work would get done tonight. It wasn’t like Tim to sulk or get in his head; he was a generally happy guy. Something must have set him off for him to be acting this way -- even with you. And if it was something this big, there was only one spot he would’ve gone.

“Brady said you stalked out of media. Figured I’d find you here.” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his shoulders dropping a little. He shrugged, which you took as your cue to take a seat beside him at your lookout space. The sun was setting, the golden hour light reflecting on his stress lines, and the sky was littered with wispy clouds.

Your hands were in the pockets of your hoodie, your legs tucked together. Despite being here for close to six years, the Canadian chill always surprised you. You sat with your shoulder pressed to his, a silent symbol of you being there for him. With his head down, he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear, so you leaned your head down to hear him better. At your movement, he huffed and lifted his head.

“I’m supposed… They wanted me to come and make a difference and to help win games. But I’m not helping! I’m supposed to be putting up points and helping win games, but we’re still losing! Like, why do I suck?”

Your chest got tight at his words. “Tim…”

“You can’t deny it, the numbers say we’re losing.”

“Losing doesn’t mean you aren’t producing. This is your first year in the NHL, you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t just your job to win the game.”

“But they wouldn’t have gotten me right out of the World Juniors if they didn’t need me to start making an impact right away! They were counting on me. And I’m not living up to it….”

“You are nineteen years old. Nineteen. The five other rookies ahead of you in points are all at least two years older than you. Let that sink in. You have so many years ahead of you. And secondly, no one here is expecting you to turn this team around. McDavid’s first year he didn’t turn the team around. And sure, yeah, the next year, the Oilers had more success but guess what? They missed the playoffs the next three years. Hockey is a team sport, one person, not even McDavid, can completely turn a team around. No one is expecting you to turn this team around in one season. This isn’t on you.”

“But the numbers…”

“Are you going to trust the analyst on the numbers or the assholes on Twitter?” He glared at you but let you continue on. “If you really want to talk numbers, we aren’t last in the league anymore. We’ve beat the top team in the division a couple times now. You’re putting up points, you’re helping us win. Cut yourself some slack. You’re nineteen and living in a new country. This team isn’t expecting you to be Ottawa’s saviour, okay?”

“There’s pressure to be better though! Everywhere I go, I just see how I should be doing more, how if I don’t produce more, I’m going to be a draft bust. I’m the young guy, I’m supposed to be the new blood and be able to make a difference. I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” His words lingered in the sunset glow, a contrast to the darkness he was feeling. You fell silent at his outburst, the air feeling too quiet, even with his heavy breathing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You ignored his apology, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you. “I graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I didn’t have enough job experience but my grades were one of the only reasons I was able to get hired so young. My first year, all I did was double check other people’s stats and predictions, and it was okay. No one expected much out of me because I was young and they didn’t really give me any responsibilities. But this year… they’re looking to me more. Teams with more than two analysts are more likely to produce teams that make the playoffs. I’m number three; I should be helping make a better team. But I’m not. I’m not getting the numbers we need or the stats we need. I know more updated methods and technologies but...it’s just not working. I’m not finding solutions to problems that this team has had for years. And the board and my colleagues see that. I know I shouldn’t worry about them firing me, but I still do. I mean, I’m not producing, why would they keep me around? This wasn’t what they wanted when they gave me the job.”

“They won’t fire you, you’re doing your best. And you’re young, you graduated early. They have to give you a chance to prove yourself in the workplace before they fire you.”

“You wanna take your own advice?” He flushed at your words, but you smiled. “Thanks, though.” He nodded and looked out over the suburbs surrounding the arena.

“The pressure in this league sucks.” He said and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It does. But we’ll get through it right?”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.” He placed his hand on your thigh and the two of you looked out at the sunset, his touch lingering on your body until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Silently, he helped you to your feet, and walked you to your car, making sure you got in okay, before he got into his car. On the drive home, your chest felt lighter from the conversation.

***

The final buzzer rang, signalling a 4-2 win for the Senators. You smiled at the scoreboard and gathered your papers. The game was nothing spectacular, but for you, it was a career defining game. Some of the lines you'd suggested were risky, but you had the numbers to back it up, and it worked. It worked. The conversation with Tim earlier last week helped with your confidence to take risks in terms of your analytic advice.

You went back to your office after the game, wanting to type up a report of how you impacted tonight's outcome. If it worked this time, who's to say it couldn't work again? But in a higher stakes game? You felt like you were finally contributing to the team, and damn, it felt good.

Your office was barely even that. It was small, but you had a desk, a window, and your name on the door. It was enough for your first major gig. You'd made it a little homey-er with a small succulent and some motivational quotes. You opened up your laptop and began to type up a document report. The words flowed from your fingers and you used the numbers you counted from the box to back up your findings. Time seemed to stand still as you typed, the document becoming longer and longer.

A knock broke your train of thought and you looked up to see Tim poking his head through your office door. He had a shy smile on your face and you shook the writing haze out of your eyes.

"Hey! Come on in," He nodded, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall. "You played a good game." His cheeks flushed and he lifted his hat, running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks, thank you. Anyway, did you eat yet?"

"I mean, I had an iced coffee before the game and a granola bar during the second period. So yeah?" Immediately he started shaking his head and he pushed himself away from the wall. You open your hands as if to say 'what’?" and he outstretched his hand to you.

"Coffee and a granola bar isn't a meal. Let's go get some real food, I'm hungry." He made a grabby hand with his outstretched hand and you sighed.

"I have to finish my report, I can't." He sighed, pushed your laptop shut, and grabbed your hand.

"That can wait. Besides, the boys went out and I need a ride home." He flashed you a shy smile and you rolled your eyes, before picking up your bag and leaving your office with him. You tried not to notice how Tim was still holding onto your hand, but as he tugged you along to a quiet area of the concourse, it was difficult to do. He stopped at a small table with two bar stools. He let go of your hand, cold enveloping you, and you hung your bag on the back of the chair. As you hopped onto the chair, he stayed standing, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you want to eat?" When you shook your head again, he pulled out his puppy dog eyes. "Tim, seriously, I'm fine."

"I'm getting some fries and you will eat some of them. Deal?" Your face pulled into a frown and he repeated himself. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mom, deal."

He gave himself a self assured smile. "Great. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he came back with a container of fries and two small containers. He set them down in front of you before he got seated. A closer look at the container showed one was ketchup and the other was…

"Is this mayo?" He picked up a fry, dipped it in the white substance, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth full, he nodded. "You eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"You don't?"

"No!" You shook your head. He took another fry, dipped it again, and ate it.

"You have to try it, it's good!"

“No, no thank you. You can keep your weird German eating habits to yourself." You laughed, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it.

"Nope, you've got to try one. Please?" You scrunched up your nose, and he held out a white coated french fry. You gave in, taking it from his hands and shoving it in your mouth. You chewed it slowly, contemplating the taste.

"It's...not horrible." He raised his eyebrows at you. "Fine, it's alright." He gave you another look, a small smile forming on his face despite his efforts to hide it. "Okay, okay, I like it. Happy?" He let out a loud laugh.

"Yes! I knew you'd like it!" You laughed a little with him, before dipping another fry in the mayo and popped it in your mouth. The two of you ate in silence, the sounds of the zamboni in the background.

"Why didn't you go out with the guys? You had a good game,"

He shrugged. "I wanted something quieter. Besides, I was hungry and the guys wanted to go out to a bar. Bar food isn't exactly a meal."

"Neither is french fries,"

"Well, maybe, you're just better company than the guys."

"Damn right, I am." You smiled, tapped his fry with yours in a makeshift sort of 'cheers' way. When the two of you had finished your snack, you picked up the container and threw it in the compost bin near the table. You grabbed your bag off the chair, holding up your car keys. He got up off the table, joining you in a slow walk towards the parking lot.

You wished the custodians a good night as the two of you left the arena, the street lights in the parking lot illuminating the way to your car. Silently, you unlocked the car and you both got in. You gave him your phone, telling him to pick any playlist he wanted while you started the car. He picked one of your favourite playlists, a mix of relaxing beats and soft music, which was perfect for late night drives.

"You should have some lo-fi on here, it's a lot like this. I think you'd like it," he said, after you had merged onto the highway.

"Yeah?" He only nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to come back to the car. The rest of the drive was easy, the road being mostly empty and the music filling the car. He gave you quiet directions to the house, more points and here's than actual directions but you were able to find it.

"Thank you for the ride," He said, once you’d put the car in park.

"Thanks for sharing your food with me,” He shook his head and smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll always share with you.” You caught his gaze, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. You could feel your cheeks flush and you waved him out of your car.

“I gotta get home too, you know.” You joked and he got out, popping his head back into the doorway for a second.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” You murmured an ‘of course’ and he nodded, closing the car door and making his way to his front door. You waited until he entered the house before you drove away, turning on a lo-fi playlist from Spotify.

***

“Your turn to pick the movie, but no subtitles please, I’m too lazy to read today.” You handed Tim the remote for his TV while you pulled the blanket closer to your chin. The October chill had settled in his apartment and you hadn’t dressed for his room to feel like the arena.

“Jimmy!” Someone called from the kitchen and a loud clang dissolved any annoyance Tim had from his roommate interrupting his time with you. He rushed to the kitchen and you followed behind shyly. There were platters across the kitchen island, each with a different coloured dish. It looked like there was a salad, a couple casserole dishes, and some plates of desserts. A taller brunette was standing in the kitchen, frantically gesturing between Tim and a pot on the stove. There was a lid on the ground, a splatter of pinkish red liquid surrounding it. You entered the kitchen, picked up the lid before placing it in the sink. The other guy was still explaining to Tim what exactly he wanted to do, even though his head was tilted like a confused puppy. You brushing him aside llightly, grabbing the spoon Tim was holding to stir the pinkish red liquid on the stove. You sent him a small smile back over your shoulder and all you could see in his eyes was relief.

“Thank you!” The oven beeped and you noticed an embroidered #9 on the roommate's Senator sweats. You moved to the side to allow him to get another baking dish from the oven. He placed it on the stovetop and took off his oven mitts. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t think he’d be that helpless in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised anyone in this house can actually cook,” You laughed. The liquid that smelled of oranges and cranberries started to boil, so you reduced the heat and continued to stir it. You look at the baking dish that he brought out of the oven. “Are those brussel sprouts?”

“Yeah! My mom’s recipe; they’re delicious! Do you like them?”

“They’re one of my favourites! My recipe uses bacon though.”

“Oh nice! You’ll have to share it with me, I’d love to try it. And, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Josh,”

“I know.” He shot you a look and you backtracked. “I-Sorry, it’s just-I actually work with you? I’m in the analytics department, so I know your jersey number and I saw it on your sweats and put two and two together. I’m not being a creep, I’m sorry.” The sound of laughter behind you made you blush.

“Not being a creep my ass. They did the same thing when me and Jimmy ran into them for the first time!” Brady commented, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a button up shirt. You shook your head before nodding towards his attire.

“Going somewhere nice?” He looked down at his outfit and shook his head.

“It’s Thanksgiving? It’s why they gave us the day off?” That...that would explain the amount of food in the kitchen. No matter how many years you lived here, you’d always forgotten that Canadian Thanksgiving was a whole month earlier. You placed the stir spoon on a plate next to the pot and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Oh! Um, right, well, uh in that case, I should be, I should get going. You guys must have plans. Nice to meet you Josh.” You made your way out of the kitchen to the foyer where your coat and shoes were without so much as a goodbye to the guys. You could hear Tim coming after you, his steps lighter and more graceful than Brady or Josh’s. But, he didn’t make a move to do anything except stare at you as you got ready to leave. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to put on your shoes that he spoke.

“You should just stay. We’ve got lots of food.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Brady’s bringing his girlfriend and a couple other of the guys are coming over. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

“I don’t know if you have this holiday in Germany, but Thanksgiving is a family thing, Tim.” You sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t I have brought something? Am I even dressed okay?” You looked down at your outfit - a simple pair of jeans and one of your comfiest graphic tees. He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about that. You look great, just enjoy the night with me. Stay? Please? C’mon schatz, you’re like my family to me.” The two of you maintained eye contact until you broke it and took off your coat. You could see Tim’s smile widen and when it came to walking back into the kitchen, he extended his arm. You took it and the two of you made your way back towards what would end up being a wonderful evening full of laughs and smiles shared between friends.

***

You had come over for a trashy reality TV binge after a particularly hard day at work. None of the numbers were adding up the way you needed them to and your laptop was having a hissy-fit all day. Soon enough, you called it a day and texted Tim, telling him you’d be over in twenty minutes. He greeted you at the door with your favourite chocolate treat, a box of Timbits, and “there’s popcorn in the microwave right now, it’s almost done”. You could’ve melted right on the spot. Instead, you made your way over to the couch where you collapsed and pulled the blanket he had already set out for you up to your chin. You breathed in the smells of pine and sock tape and felt your body relax. HGTV played in the background while you waited for him to bring the popcorn out when his phone dinged.

“Tim, your phone!” You yelled to him from across the living room.

“Who is it?” You sighed and moved from your comfortable spot on the couch to check his messages. You turned on the phone to see a message from Josh, saying he’s five minutes away. You went to lock the phone, seeing the unimportance of the message but something caught your eye. You swiped to clear the notification and his background came into focus. It was the two of you standing in front of the Ottawa sign at ByWard market, his arm around your shoulders and a grin on both your faces.

“Who was it?” He entered the room as he repeated his question.

“Just Josh,” you whispered, turning around to face him holding up his phone. “Am I your lock screen?” He blushes, opening his mouth stammering for words. “I am! I knew I was important to you.” You poked him a couple times for an extra tease when his face settled into a small pout and he retaliated by tickling you. You shrieked and hopped up from the couch, laughing as he chased you around the house.

“Stop doing that!” He laughed as you escaped his clutches once more. Your laugh echoed through the house as he tried again to try to tickle you, but you grabbed Josh and used him as a human shield.

“No fair schatz,” He relented his tickling and sat on the couch. You took a seat beside him, but kept your distance in case he decided to start his torture again.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” You look over to him and he’s already scratching the back of his neck.

“What what means?”

“That thing you keep calling me. Like shats?”

Josh laughed and spoke up. “It means swe-”

“Friend! It means friend!” Tim interrupted loudly, his cheeks rosy. “It means friend.” You raised your eyebrows at his outburst and his explanation.

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

He scratched at his jaw and slowly nodded. “In my city, it’s common for friends to just call each other ‘friend’. It’s normal,” You managed out a ‘okay’ between breathy laughs, wondering why he was being so strange about it. It was just a nickname. But the blush in his cheeks didn’t diminish until well after Josh left the room, muttering under his breath about ‘idiots’, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe it meant more than Tim was letting on.

***

“Are you going to be at the gala on Saturday?” Tim asked you as the two of you ate (lunch for you, pre-practice snack for him) on the concourse. It was your first concourse snack since the All-Star break and you had missed him. WhatsApp messages and Instagram messages just weren’t the same as being in his presence. You finished your bite, and shook your head.

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Like...as a date?” You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Maybe this was the clue you were waiting for.

“As friends?” Your eyes darted down onto the counter and Tim took that as a sign you didn’t want to go with him. “There’ll be puppies there.”

“Well,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “If there’s going to be puppies, I need no more convincing.” You forced a smile onto your face and he returned the sentiment, before finishing up the food. You wished him good luck before the game, and left to go the the box.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night and you found yourself in front of the Fairmont Château. You gazed up at the stone walls and admired how the orange glow from the lights gave it such a warm feeling, compared to the shivers that were going up and down your back. You had found time to go and get a fancy outfit for the night, its gold fabric being a perfect fit on your body. Tim had told you he’d meet you inside, so walked upt the steps alone, avoiding the other guests in fancy attire. They looked like they belonged here. You couldn't relate. The front entrance of the hotel was exactly as you expected -- it had marble floors, crown moldings, and a domed ceiling. You followed the chatter to one of the conference rooms, someone offering to check your coat. With just your clutch, you entered the ballroom with the sound of your shoes following you.

You looked around to try to find Tim among the executives, easily spotting him when you heard Brady’s booming laugh in the corner. You made your way over to the group, including Brady, Josh, Drake, Tim and some respective dates. Josh waved at you and Tim turned around to see you walking towards him.

Tim stood there, memorized by the way the Senators gold fabric hugged your figure and the way your eyes had lit up when you saw one of the puppies. You came over to him, brushing his arm before joining the group. Hellos were thrown your way and it wasn’t long before everyone went back to their conversations and you were able to speak with Tim.

“You look handsome." You handed him your clutch, which he held unashamedly, as you adjusted his gold bowtie, letting your hands linger on the front of his chest. You gulped before snapping out of your trance and took your clutch back from him.

“Um, uh, thanks. You look...good too,” His voice was breathy and his cheeks had flushed a little. You smiled at him, before noticing another golden retriever stumbling around next to its trainer and darting off to pet it. Tim watched you go and he stood back, blown away by the way his heart was beating faster and how he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You finally figured it out, huh?” He turned around at Drake’s voice. He had recognized the look on Tim’s face, it was the same one he had when he looked at his partner. Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“Figured what out?”

Drake scoffed and took a gulp of his drink. “God, you already know and you’re denying it. You’re in love with them.” Tim shook his head, waving off the thought. You were his best friend, nothing more. “C’mon man, you can keep lying to yourself but it’s obvious to everyone else.” He was then swept away by a reporter, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

He wasn’t in love with you. He was sure of it. You were his best friend, his safe spot. It’s not like when he sees you his heart beats faster or he notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh or when the sun hits your skin just right, you look like an angel. It’s not like the more he looks at your lips the more he wants to know if they taste like your sweet honey lip chap. It’s not like your smile could cure his darkest days or that he could see himself introducing you to his family as his partner.

Except it was like that.

Tim saw all of that with you. He saw more galas, more late night drives, lazy Sunday mornings. He wanted to see you after his games, not in your office, but in the tunnel where you’d be wearing his jersey and a special jean jacket. He wanted to take you home to meet his family, his hometown friends. He wanted to show you all the places that were special to him, just as you showed his places special to you. He wanted to meet Dani and see if she thought he was good enough to be your partner. As he stared at you petting the small golden pup, he realized Drake was right. He was in love with you.

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

You didn’t give him too much time to think about that as you came up behind him, telling him everything about the golden retriever you just met. He smiled at you, and motioned with his head to find your seats as dinner was going to be served soon. You sat next to him, your leg brushing against his under the table. Even from that, he got shocks-- tiny lightning bolts trailing up his body. It was like every sense was heightened after he came to the realization that he loved you. How am I supposed to even act around them? He thought.

The meal passed without issue and while Tim went about schmoozing all the executives and donors, you stick with the other halves. You had already met Emma, Brady’s partner, and she introduced you to Dakota, Briar, and Marissa (she had also told you who they came with but that information had not stuck with you).

“Sooo… Emma, how’s the wedding planning going?” Briar asked. She had gotten engaged over the holiday break. She laughed and waved off the question.

“Oh, not at all! We’re just enjoying being engaged, it’s like the honeymoon phase all over again,”

“Just like you and Tim,” Dakota nudged you and wiggled her eyebrows. You coughed on your drink at her statement.

“What?” You managed to sputter. Emma looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. “What do you mean, like me and Tim?”

“Oh come on, it’s so obvious the two of you are in your honeymoon phase! Don’t be ashamed of it, you’re such a cute couple!”

“Ooh yes!! How his bowtie matched your outfit is like goals, I wish my boyfriend did that with me,” Marissa mentioned. Your voice felt caught in your throat and you were instantly aware of the breeze in the room and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends,” Your voice was small.

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly, babe. Oh, look, here comes your man.” Dakota winked at you before turning into her own date. You turn around quickly to see him walking over to you, laughing with Brady and Josh. Normally, the sight of him would calm you down. He was such a genuine person and you appreciated how you never had to shrink yourself to fit in with him. But with the girls’ comments, you suddenly couldn’t be around him. When his hand met the small of your back, you flinched before relaxing into his touch. It was just Tim, your Tim. It’s not a big deal unless you make it a big deal.

“Timmy, I was just telling Y/n what a cute couple you two are!”

“Well, what do they say? Oh right, they complete me,” He sent you a wink and pulled you closer to his side. You went stiff in his hold, and he noticed, instantly letting you out of his grip. You muttered out an excuse about work and said quick goodbyes to the group before you were out of the gala as fast as your shoes could allow. Your cheeks were hot with...embarrassment? No, that wasn’t quite it. But they were hot, and the room felt small with Dakota’s teasing so just needed to escape. You needed to have fresh air in your lungs, needed to feel the cool Ottawa air on your arms. Needed to be somewhere other than beside him and his light teasing that left your stomach in knots.

But you hadn't even reached the front door and grabbed your coat from the coat check when Tim caught up to you. He watched you try to put on your coat, as he rocked back and forth on his heels like that first day you met.

“Do you… do you actually have work in the morning or were you just saying that?” You looked up and met his eyes, the orbs holding a certain vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“I got called at the last minute. I forgot to tell you, Jody’s kid got sick so I’m covering the game on Sunday but I haven’t prepared my notes or anything and you know me, I’ve got to be prepared or I won’t make a coherent analysis and then I’m really in trouble-” Tim cut your rambling off with a murmur of your name and you slowed your frantic movements to look at him.

“We’re okay, right?”

You smiled at him before you walked out the glass door. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

***

Last night was confusing to say the least. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks from...embarrassment? No, it wasn’t that. It was more like you couldn’t stand around to see what he meant by his comment. You couldn’t stand around why everyone else say you as a couple when you knew you weren’t. But you were okay with not being a couple weren’t you?

It’s like not you liked him that way. Yeah, a simple smile from him could turn your day around and your concourse snacks were the highlight of your week. But that’s because he was your best friend. It’s not like you wanted to spend every morning waking up to him or spend your afternoons running your fingers through his hair. It’s not like you wanted to take him back to Seattle to meet Dani or how you wanted to wear his jersey to call him yours. It’s not like you daydreamed about him gently holding your hand as you walked through ByWard market or how soft his lips would be as he leaned in to kiss you or what his abs felt like without a shirt separating your fingers from his skin.

Except it was like that.

And then came the comment at the gala. Did that mean he liked you too? But he said you were just going as friends. Did he mean it platonically? What if you read things wrong? Fuck, why were feelings so complicated?

Dani, you needed to call Dani. She’d know what to make of all this. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Thanks for calling Books By The Ocean, may you please hold?”

“Dani, it’s me.” Hold music filled your ear and you rolled your eyes. A few minutes later, there was almost certainly a hole in your rug from your pacing and she finally picked up.

“Why’d you resort to calling the store? I would’ve answered my phone eventually,”

“Yeah, eventually. I just really need to talk to you now,”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

“Is it Tim? Please tell me it’s Tim.” When you didn’t answer, she rejoined before reeling it in and telling you to continue.

“Anyways...we’re pretty good friends, I've known him since like the start of the season, and I don’t know, like I think he likes me? And I mean, I like him, he’s really great but, like, I just-”

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I want to take the next step with him. I want to be more than friends with him. I want all those things but… I just seem frozen. Like when I think about telling him, my body feels like it won’t move. It feels like I’m underwater. But I want to do more with him. I want that. Why won’t my brain get that and let me… I don’t know, let me act on my feelings?”

“You’re protecting yourself. You’ve never got hurt before,” You scoffed at her statement.

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

“Okay, sure, when you scraped your knee or when Nancy Peters called you dumb in second grade but you haven’t got hurt before. You haven’t opened yourself up to someone and let someone into your heart and let them see you for who you are.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but that’s because they might not like what they see,”

She sighed. “You can’t go through life with your walls up, kiddo. It’s hard, but you have to trust yourself. You have to let yourself feel. You have to let people in. When we were little and moved around a lot, maybe it was a survival tactic. But you’ve been in Ottawa for close to five years now and have unpacked all your boxes? Have you had any friends over? You’ve put down roots there but you’re still holding onto a survival tactic when you need to be living, not just surviving.

“I let people in--”

“No. You don’t. Has Tim ever been in your apartment? Has he seen that even though you resent Mom, you still have family photos of the four of us in your living room? Does he know about Dad? You might have told him stuff but you’re still living behind walls.” She sighed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard on you, but I want to see you thrive kiddo. I want you to experience life, and yeah, hurt is a part of life. You aren’t doing life right if you come out unscathed. And sure, maybe he’s a great friend. But in some instances, that romantic partner can fill a more emotionally secure place. People usually place more trust in their partner than just a friend. You’ve got to open up to him more than you already have if you want more from him.”

“How do I do that?”

“You’ve got to figure that out on your own kiddo, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Honestly; no hiding behind your friendship.” You nodded to her advice, before realizing she couldn’t see you, and thanked her for her help. She hung up with the promise to chat again on Wednesday like you normally did. You threw your phone beside the sink and leaned your head against the cool counter.

Be honest with him

Okay, you could do that. Easy enough right? You just had to make a plan to tell him. You could do that.

***

You were walking through the halls close to the bench to deliver your latest stats to the coach. It was your job after the other analysts determined you “had the youngest feet” and could go scouring around to find the coach. You didn’t mind. Besides… if you just happened to bump into Tim while you were down here, well then that was a completely unplanned coincidence. Since the gala and your chat with Dani afterwards, you were feeling good about where you stood with Tim. And you’d made your plan. After the game, you’d meet up for after-game snacks like most home games and you had told yourself you’d talk to him then.

You had given the latest report to the coach on the bench, walking past the locker room towards the box when you heard Tim's voice.

“...I don’t know man, I just need a break from Y/n.” You stopped in your tracks. It wasn’t that you meant to be nosy, but at the mention of your name… you wanted to see what else he had to say. You hadn’t meant to smother him but you guess he saw it differently. Your shoulders dropped and you bit your lip.

“I only have a problem around them!” You could feel the breakfast in your stomach start to turn, the feeling of bile starting to rise up. A ringing started to fill your ears, the white static noise only being pieced by his once comforting voice.

“It’s just… We work together, you know? It’s awkward,” Where was this attitude when you were hanging out at the start of the season? Last week? If this is how he felt, why didn’t… what did he mean by his comment to Dakota?

His voice shook you out of your trance. “Like at the end of the day, I’m me… they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re...them.” At that, you rushed away from earshot. If that was how he really felt, then screw him. If he was the hockey star and you were just the analyst, then that’s what role you’d play. Nothing more, nothing less. And he wasn’t brave enough to say that to your face, you’d say it first.

This is why you didn’t open yourself up. If you were going to get hurt either way, it might as well be the least damaging option.

Over the next few games and practices, you kept your distance from the players. You avoided the bench, sending Jody to give reports to the coach. You kept your office door closed, the blinds closed, and you made sure to time your exits of the arena to avoid Tim. If avoiding him meant you avoided the inevitable conversation where he would tell you your flaws and point out every way you misread things, then you would do that.

After you heard that, you stopped going out of your way to pass by the boys in the arena. You went into your office, closed the door, and didn’t leave until you went home. When you had to sit in the stands for practices, you sat higher than you used to and ignored the waves and stared you got from the team. He sent the occasional text but you replied with an im busy too many times that he stopped trying. It was odd to you how he kept reaching out when he was the one who said he needed a break but you ignored that voice in your head.

It was a Friday when he finally confronted you. You had been so close to leaving the arena, just one more hallway, and you would’ve been out the door and into the parking lot. He had called your name and you tried to turn the corner without him but he caught up easily, grabbing your wrist to get you to stay.

“What’s up? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” He let go of your wrist as you turned to face him.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re a bigshot NHL player and I’m a lowly analyst.” He squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think we should be friends anymore,”

He slowly nodded, thinking your words over in his head. “Okay. Um...I think… yeah, that could be good. I don’t think we should be just friends either.” He shot you a shy smile with a spark of hope in his eyes but you frowned.

“Good. It’s settled then.” You turned on your heel and walked away from him, only wiping your teary eye once you had rounded the corner, refusing to let him see you cry. You missed the way he frowned as you retreated.

The weekend was spent in bed, repeat episodes of Loki playing in the background. Loki never hurt you the way Tim had, the way his words dug into your insecurities of being alone creating a wound like no other. You had turned your phone off earlier as it kept buzzing with messages from him. You didn’t want to hear his excuses of why and you didn’t want to explain that you’d overheard his conversation. But the season wasn’t over yet so you gave yourself two days to grieve. When Monday morning came, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Tim caught you in the main entrance way at the rink. It was close to 8am and you knew he didn’t have practice until 11, so it was obvious he was waiting for you. You walk right past him until he softly calls your name and you stop walking, but don’t turn around. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know why.” You whipped around and scoffed at him. “And you know what else? If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said something. You didn’t have to keep hanging out with me.”

“What?”

“I think we should just keep this professional, 18. I’m nothing more than a background analyst to your hockey superstar, so let’s just stick to our jobs, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We work together, we shouldn’t be friends, you said it yourself. It’ll be better this way. Now, please, just leave me alone.” You brushed by him, bumping your shoulder with his, and you missed the way his jaw fell open at how quickly your relationship seemed to change.

He seemed to leave you alone after that. He didn’t check in and he didn’t send funny memes he found. He didn’t text you to tell you he landed safely on road trips and you didn’t congratulate him on a game well played. You could tell Brady and Josh thought it was weird but didn’t say anything, just gave you pitying looks when you passed by or caught their eye in the halls.

The Senators failed to clinch a playoff spot, thanks to an overtime loss to Winnipeg. The end of the season for you was nice. It meant a shift in your work to more prospects, and thankfully, a more flexible work schedule. You didn’t have to go into the arena and most of the players went back to their hometowns to visit. It was supposed to be a reprieve for you, knowing Tim wasn’t even in the country. It was supposed to be relaxing, going to all the places that had helped you in the past to regroup your thoughts.

But instead, it felt suffocating, strolling through the market. You’d been here thousands of times to clear your head, but this time the deeper you walked, the more the thoughts in your head swirled into a hurricane.

You’d never know what home felt like. You’d had friends tell you it’s having like extended family over around the holidays or it’s the peacefulness they felt at their lake house. You thought you had found it in Ottawa, its quaintness and history bringing you a sense of calm you hadn’t had before. But only with Tim did you feel that inner peace that home felt like. Only with Tim did you feel like you could take on the world. Only with Tim did you feel whole.

And that was scary.

Feeling like one person could complete you, like they had a piece of your heart you didn’t know you gave them, was scary. You were used to being on your own. You’d done it throughout your levels of schooling and throughout the beginnings of your career. And all it took for that strength to come crashing down was a bashfully confident German hockey player.

He couldn’t even tell you why. It would’ve hurt more to hear the exact reasons why you weren’t good enough for him, but it would have quelled your mind from picking on every single insecurity your mind could come up with.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the Ottawa sign. You glanced around to see couples waiting for their turn at the sign. Some of the guys had their arms around the shoulders’ of their girlfriends. Some of the girls had their hands clasped in their girlfriends’. Some people had their arms around the waist of their partner. But they all had a smile on their face, a fondness that was reserved for the love of their life.

Your eye caught the sight of a backwards Senators cap and your head whipped around. The person was tall and was wearing a grey hoodie. The man turned to the side and you caught a glance of the brown tufts of hair that stuck out of the cap. He threw his head back and the corners of your mouth turned up. Tim’s laugh was always infectious, even if you were upset with him.

But it wasn’t him.

He hadn’t reached out since the day in the hallway. As much as you knew you didn’t want to hear him say things more hurtful than what you overheard, you couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong. The what-ifs tumbled around in your head, the possibilities of why suddenly your friendship was too much for him.

As you stood there in the market, the memories racing through your mind mixed with images of happy couples all around you, you knew you had to get out. You don’t really remember the rush of leaving, all you know is that the city that felt big for so many years now felt too small. You can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him, his smile, his laugh. How his eyes glimmer from the light of a movie. You drove yourself to the airport, knowing there wasn’t going to be a cab this early in the morning.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the familiar blue painted bookstore with your duffle bag in your hands. It was raining and overcast in Seattle, which wasn’t unusual, but even the fat teardrops felt melancholic. The sign in the window said closed, but you knew Dani would be in the back, organizing new stock. You knocked on the window, the sound rattling through the worn building. A few seconds later, her head of light pink hair came to the door, opening it. Before she could question your presence, you spoke.

“He didn’t want me,” you cried. “He didn’t even see all of me and he didn’t want me.” You dropped your bag as she pulled you into a hug. One hand cradled the back of your head as she pulled you out of the rain and into the store. You inhaled her scent, a mix of sea salt and the old bookstore, and squeezed her tightly. When she released you from the hug, she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing down your jaw. She gave you a soft smile, before walking to the back of the store, where her apartment was. Your shoes squeaked against the old hardwood floors as you followed her towards the kitchen, where you could smell a pot of tea brewing.

She was silent as she poured you a cup, kissed your head, before whispering everything was going to work out. She slipped out of the room, giving you your space.

You didn’t even have to ask. Dani let you stay with her for the summer, as long as you helped out around the store when you weren’t doing your own work. She didn’t push you for details about Tim, she just let you be. You tried your best to be cheery around the customers but that facade only lasted so long. When you were alone, you didn’t try to hide the emptiness you felt there.

***

Too soon did the days start to get shorter, the nights colder, the pitter-patter of raindrops became more constant which meant fall was coming. The season was starting up again, and you had to head back to Ottawa. This summer at home was a nice break but you knew that running away wasn’t going to solve all your problems. You were packing when a text from Josh came in.

So when are you getting in?

i land at 9pm on the 20th. Why?

Can’t I wonder when my friend gets into the city?

we’re friends?

Of course we are Numbers! I don’t share family recipes with just anyone :)

good to know thanks :)

You continued packing, thinking about what he said. You knew the two of you were friends, but he was Tim’s teammate. His roommate. To hear him say, regardless of where you and Tim stand, that you two were still good was a relief. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time away from the city, you missed work. You missed sitting in the arena, a brisk chill over your shoulder, the sounds of scraping ice and whistles. You missed the quaintness of Ottawa and, as much as he’d never let you forget it, you missed Josh’s cooking. Nights with Dani didn’t compare to nights with Brady (and sometimes Emma) and Josh.

Dani parked in the loading zone of the airport. She got out of the car to help with your bag, even though you had only brought one.

“Hey, listen, um. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Tim but… I think you need to talk to him.”

“Dani...”

“No, listen. I think you need some closure. You ran away from a city you haven’t left in five years, a city you so obviously love, because it hurt to think about him. Maybe closure means you talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t. But you’ve spent this whole summer looking lost, like you’re waiting for something to magically appear and make everything better. You look like you’ve lost a piece of yourself and you don’t know how to get it back. And that’s not you, kiddo. It’s never been you; you’ve always been so straightforward and sure of yourself. I want you to feel like yourself again, that’s all.”

“What if…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What if the piece of me that I lost isn’t something I can get back?”

“Then you fill it. It might not be perfect and maybe you need lots of tape, and maybe you accept that there will be small cracks in it, but those holes make your souls yours. It’s a part of life, and you can’t avoid it no matter how hard you try.” You pulled her in for a hug, some of the tears in your eyes dropping onto her shoulder.

“Thank you Dani. For everything.” She pulled back to wipe the tears from your face, a smile on her face.

“You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Take care of yourself, okay?” You nodded, knowing if you spoke again, more tears would bubble over. You walked towards the departures gate, walking towards the reality you ran from.

Several hours later, you were happy to be back in Ottawa. You had missed it, as much as it pained you when you were here. Tim Hortons, bilingual signs, friendly smiles, and oh god you could have real poutine again. Yeah, it was nice to be back.

Dani’s words mulled over in your head throughout the flight, and continued to as you made your way through the airport. She was right, maybe you needed closure. Accept what happened and move on. You’d lost friends when you graduated early, you’d lost friends when you moved away. You’d lost friends before and this was no different.

Except you knew deep down it was different. It was Tim; it was always going to be different with him.

You shook your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the thought. If Tim didn’t want to be around you, then you weren’t going to waste your time waiting for him to show up. You’d suck it up everything you had to look at a stat, but other than that you’d focus on work, focus on proving yourself in the company. You started to walk towards where you’d parked your car (without wondering how much the parking was), ignoring the happy reunions of students and families. You had been perfectly fine being in Ottawa on your own until you realized how much better it could be when you had someone.

A hand grasped your wrist and instantly, you turned around and ripped your arm from the stranger. You looked up, first to see a bouquet of flowers made up of peach roses, white tulips, and hydrangeas. Behind the colours of the flowers, you see a familiar face, eyes full of sorrow and hope. Even when you were ignoring him, he was still so easy to read.

“Number 18.” You struggled to keep your voice even, but you lifted your head to appear as if he had no effect on him.

“Hi Y/n,” He met your eyes, which you quickly darted away. “These are for you.” He tried to hand the bouquet to you, but you shook your head.

“How did you know when I got in?” The coldness in your voice surprised Tim, but he didn’t show it, swallowing slowly before answering you.

“Josh told me." You folded your arms, your hands gripping your bag in case you needed to get away from this conversation.

“Josh mentioned it or you asked Josh?” When he didn’t answer, you knew it was the latter and scoffed at his sneaky actions. You quickly turned away from him and moved faster towards the exit. You heard him sigh from behind you and before you could make a sly comment about it beneath your breath, he was ahead of you, blocking your way. You tried to side-step him, but hockey reflexes prevailed. You glared his way and tried again, silently begging him to move.

“C’mon, you have to talk to me sometime, we work together,” He commented.

“That’s exactly it. We work together. You’re the high and mighty NHL superstar and I’m the nerdy analyst. We have our places. They don’t mix, so really I don’t have to work with you at all. So, please, if you could just move, I have nothing else to say to you.” You tried once more to step around him, but he lightly grabbed your forearm to stop you.

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

“You had months to say it, so I’ll say it again, please let me by.” Suddenly, he was on his knees in the airport, the flowers still outstretched in his hands.

“Y/n,”

“What are you doing?” You hiss to him, your face darting around to see people starting to stare at Tim’s grand gesture.

“I need you to talk to me, and you won’t, so I’ll beg until you agree to hear me out,” You could feel more people staring, the shutter of camera phones, the eyes of everyone in the Ottawa airport (or what felt like it) easily making up your mind. There was a reason you were an analyst, away from the spotlight, doing your work behind the scenes.

“Get up,” you started to pull on his arm, but he just stayed anchored to the ground.

“You’ll talk to me?”

“18, I will do anything as long as you stop making a scene,” At this point, your cheeks felt as if you’d stood under the beating sun for an hour. He got up from his knees, the flowers still outstretched in his hands, and you let go of his arm. You grabbed the flowers from his arms, dropping them in a garbage bin as you stalked out of the airport. Tim caught up to you and walked by your side.

You said nothing as you reached your car, unlocking the doors. You didn’t even wait for him to have his seatbelt on before you were backing out of the stall and driving away. Thoughts were running wild in your head; you were angry and embarrassed at the stunt he pulled at the airport, appalled at the audacity he had to show up after what he said, and last of all you were reluctantly happy to be back in his presence again. So you went to the one place you knew you could think.

You put the car in park overlooking the suburbs. You turned it off and rested your arms on the steering wheel. You couldn’t make the effort to get out and walk to the lookout spot, the car creating a safe bubble for your thoughts.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” His soft voice broke the tense silence in the car and you scoffed.

“We’re not friends anymore. You’re the Senators star player and I’m just the nerdy analyst. There’s no reason for me to need to talk to you.”

“See, you keep saying that but I-I don’t get it! What does that even mean?” You furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him, his own face scrunched up and his eyes hard.

“What do you mean you don’t get it? You said that! The last game against Montréal? I was walking past the locker room and… I overheard you talking with the guys.” You looked down to your lap, findling with your hands. You briefly saw Tim’s hand start to move towards you, but you shook your head and it stayed in his lap. “You said you needed a break from me. You said that ‘at the end of the day they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re.. them’. You said you had a problem with me. What was I supposed to take from that except that you didn’t want me to be in your life?”

He stammered for words but you cut him off. “No, I don’t think you understand how much it hurt. Hurt to have the one person who I thought understood me to talk behind my back about how I wasn’t enough for them. It hurt to know that the one person who I always wanted to talk to, didn’t want to talk to me. Hurt to think that you’ve only ever seen me as just some nerdy analyst who has no place in your life. I had been fine before, without you in my life, but then you came in and knocked down every barrier I ever had. And then left as if you didn’t just break my life into pieces!

“I left Ottawa because it hurt too much to go to all my favourite places, because I went there with you. I let you into my safe spaces, and when you left, you shattered that security. You tainted all the good I had there. I thought that Ottawa was home before I met you,” you scoffed. “Not even close. You feel like home to me. And for you to say that I was a problem in your life?” You shook your head at him and looked down at your hands. “I tried to get over it, believe me I did. But every single place I went I was reminded of you… and how everything we had didn’t feel like a big deal to you.”

“I never meant for that to happen.” His voice was quiet and strained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions within him.

“You know the hardest part? I didn’t just have to get over losing my best friend. I had to get over someone I fell in love with! I lost the single most important relationship with one tiny little passing conversation. And you acted like nothing happened! Like we were still friends, like you still cared for me-”

“Ich liebe dich du trottel!” His outburst caught you off guard and you gulped. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car as you whispered.

“You know I don’t speak German…”

“You don’t need to know German to know what I said,” His eyes were hard, a look you had only seen during games.

“Oh.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Wait what?”

“I didn’t say those things you think I did! You didn’t listen to the whole thing! Brady was teasing me about me saying I don’t have a problem talking to people I like and I don’t normally but you’re the exception! I needed a break from you because everytime I see you, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get sweaty and I don’t know how to act! And the guys said that sounds like I’m in love with you-- and I am! I am! But when I finally started to do something about it, you ran away from me! I didn’t know what to do. Besides, if I fell in love with you...it could mess with our jobs. Because if for any reason, something happens, they’d fire you before they’d ever trade me. And you’ve worked too hard to have an opportunity like this be taken away from you because of me. So... I didn’t know what to do. And then you just kept ignoring me and saying those things about how you’re just a nerdy analyst…. It felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore and I didn’t know where it came from or what to do either so I tried to give you space. But then you shut me out. And you said we shouldn’t be friends. So I thought that meant.... you wanted to be more than friends? And the boys were saying that you being mean to me was just you having a hard time having feelings for me but then you… uh, yelled at me so I left you alone. But that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.” He placed one of his hands on top of your tentatively, giving you the option to shoo his hand away. When you didn’t, he rubbed the skin on top of your hand. “It never meant I stopped caring about you.”

He sighed. “I guess I see now that I should not have given you space. I should’ve been better for you because that’s what you deserve.”

“I could’ve been better too, this isn’t all your fault. I said some mean things.”

“I promise you, that when we’re together I’m not a NHL player. I’m just me… just Tim from Germany who likes hockey. You have always seen me for who I am, and that’s...that’s something I love about you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Love… was a big word. Love was for confident people. Love was for those who didn’t understand the weight of that four letter word. Love wasn’t a word you threw around. Love was scary. It asked you to place your bandaged heart in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t drop it, shattering the pieces into smithereens. Love meant letting down those walls that time and time again had proved that needed to stay up. To protect you. To avoid the heartache of broken trust.

And here he was, throwing that word around as if the implications didn’t matter. As if he didn’t leave. As if he didn’t call you a problem. As if he didn’t know the months you spent trying to forget him and the fragments he left behind.

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

“I… I can’t do this.” You go to open the car door only for it to lock. You gasp, and you whip your head around, your eyes sharp. “This is my car, you can’t do that!” His eyes went wide and you tried again, only for it to be locked again. You gritted your teeth and he spoke before you could reprimand him again.

“Don’t shut me out again! You say you can’t do this, okay, but tell me why. We’re supposed to-to talk to each other! We would’ve had no mess if you had just talked to me after you heard what I said! So.. talk to me,” You met his soft eyes, your resolve breaking with just one look. “Please, schatz.”

You slowly pulled your hand off the handle, letting it fall into your lap. You picked at your fingernails while trying to compose your thoughts, Tim’s concerned eyes never leaving you. He murmured your name and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know if I can jump back into where we were. I know that… it’s different than I thought but I can’t-” you cut yourself off before you said something you regret and a cold chill ran through you. “It still hurts. I can’t just unhear those things you said. Especially when they came from you. So, I’m going to need time to process everything.”

He placed one of his hands over your fidgeting fingers and you lifted your head to meet his soft eyes. “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you know, yeah?” Before you could nod your head, he had opened his door and got out of your vehicle. You quickly got out to question him.

“What are you doing?” He turns around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

“How are you planning to get home? Uber?” He shrugged before nodding, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Uh, no. No. Get in.” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “It’s almost 11pm, we’re in a dark forestry area, and you are the least threatening person I know. I’m not going to let you get stabbed by some murder psycho; you still mean something to me, you know.”

At that he came over to the car, and the two of you got settled back into your seats. After you buckled up and started the engine, Tim broke his silence.

“Did you mean that? That I still mean something to you?”

You swallowed slowly and took a while to answer his question, your hand resting on the gear shift. You put the car in reverse, and looked over at him. “You’re always going to mean something to me. Just what exactly you are changes.” You backed out of the parking lot and started the drive to his place. He was quiet for a few minutes, pondering your answer, but when he spoke his voice had the quiet confidence he always carried around with him.

“Can I ask what I am right now?” Streetlights illuminated his face and out of the corner of your eye you see him slightly turned towards you, his face unsure.

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

The rest of the drive back to his house was quiet, aside from the lo-fi beats you had playing in the background. Despite the tension, the drive felt comfortable. When you parked in front of his house, he cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you for the ride. I’ll see you around I guess,” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his hand on the handle.

“Goodnight Tim.” Despite your smile, Tim really hoped your goodnight didn’t also mean goodbye. He got out of your car, walked up the steps to his door, unlocked it and gave you a small wave before he went inside.

Tim was true to his word. He gave you space. He didn’t go back to the lookout spot or the war memorial, knowing those were your sanctuaries before they were his. He didn’t ask for updates, he didn’t stop by your office, he didn’t ask Josh how you were doing.

And you appreciated it. The time and space left you alone with your thoughts and you often visited the lookout spot or the war memorial, trying to find some peace, but those spots were now shared with Tim. So, for the first time in a long time, you spent time in your apartment.

When you moved in, you hadn’t done anything to the place. Spaces were temporary in your experience. It was more hassle than it was worth to try to make the space your own if, in a year everything was a clean slate. But Dani was right. It had been close to six years now since you moved in. Six years. You had a stable job, you had friends here, it was time to accept that maybe this was more than temporary.

You started by unpacking the last few boxes that were stacked in the hallway. You replaced the command hooks hanging your picture frames with nails. You got new paint to liven up the living room from the basic beige it was before. You put the work into making your apartment really yours. You had to stop living behind walls and this was a first step.

The next step was to really open up.

***

You were waiting outside the dressing room for Tim to get out. You came down as soon as practice finished so you knew you wouldn’t miss him. You leaned against the cool concrete, trying to control your bouncing leg. He was one of the last out of the dressing room and you shyly smiled at the other players who left. When he came out, you popped off from the wall and stood in front of him.

“Do you still want to know why I picked hockey?” You could tell your question caught him off guard but he nodded nonetheless. “You had asked and I brushed it off...because it hurt to think about. Because it was my dad...He loved hockey. Everywhere we went, there was a team he could cheer for, but he always wished that his hometown team would win, no matter how bad they were. He took me to a game once. I had asked why he liked it so much, it was cold and loud and people were drunk and I’m pretty sure our team was losing. We were down in the crowd and he said to me, ‘Hockey is this great sport. It connects people. It creates families right before your eyes. Enemies can become teammates. This...this sport can be a family for you, anywhere you go. I hope one day you can find something that does the same thing for you.’ Two weeks later, he had a heart attack. So, I held onto the one thing that he found belonging in. I liked my math, it made sense, and I’m good at it. But when it came to doing something with my life, I just- I wanted something to make my dad proud of me, you know? I wanted to feel connected to him.”

Tim was silent but he pulled you into a hug, your head going into the crook of his neck. His arms went around your waist and he held you for a minute. “Your dad would be proud of you. I know he would. Why’d you tell me now though?”

“Well, friends share personal stuff, right?” You pulled away from the hug just enough to catch his eyes. You looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled.

“Yeah, they do.” He broke the hug, but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “C’mon, friends also eat brussel sprouts for each other.” You laughed at his distaste for them and the two of you walked out the parking lot together, his arm still slung around your shoulders.

***

You looked up at the ceiling, your bedsheets twisted beside you. It had been about two weeks since you told Tim about your dad, and since then, the two of you had been exchanging texts daily. It felt familiar, even though both of you knew it was different. Not a bad different, just… different. You’d been over to his place a couple times and he came over for your place for a ‘welcome back’ dinner.

You were nervous to show him your apartment, but you knew you had grown into the space. It was no longer generic beige walls and command strips. The living room had an accent wall and you put nails in the wall to hang your family photos in the hallway. Tim took his time looking around your space, spending extra time in the hallway. He stopped in front of the picture of your family, all four of you, and smiled.

“My parents are coming into town when we play the Caps in December, if you want to meet them?” He had said when you sat down to eat. You sputtered your drink a little and set down the glass.

“Only if...you meet Dani when we go to Seattle in January?” His face broke into a grin and he nodded.

“I’d love that.” The rest of the dinner had no issues, just two friends catching up and getting familiar with each other again.

But he wanted you to meet his parents. He wanted you to meet the people who raised him, his family. And you didn’t have any hesitations. You wanted to meet the people who made Tim who he is.

This past week solidified that you knew what you wanted. You wanted to meet Tim’s family, you wanted to show him around Seattle, you wanted to be with him. If he still wanted to be with you.

If.

He had been pretty clear where he stood on his feelings, but the voice in the back of your mind taunted you with that one tiny two letter word. He might have seen how you reacted, how unstable you were, and how you weren’t ready to jump into things as a sign you didn’t want this. He could’ve taken your steps to being friends again as being just friends again. He could’ve-

You weren’t going to wait around to let what-if’s and might of’s and could’ve’s waft around in your head. You needed to talk to him, needed to see him. So in your pajama pants and a hoodie, you braved the Canadian night and drive to his house. You parked the car, rather haphazardly, but it could wait. You skipped a step walking up to his door and quickly phoned him.

You paced back and forth on the small porch as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hallo?” His accent was thicker in his native language, the harsh constants sounding so soft from his lips.

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

A sigh escapes you. “Tim. I know. I know now.”

“Well if you looked at a clock before you left your place, you would’ve known earlier. That would’ve-”

“Tim.” You gulped and your voice trembled slightly. “I’m ready. I know what I want.” The tone of your voice dropped its lightheartedness and that alone was enough to shake the sleep from his mind. But your words? More than enough to get him out of bed and racing (as quietly as he could in the dark) towards you.

He opened the front door in his sleep joggers to see you pacing and shaking your arms. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to admire you. The way your hair fell, your Senator pajama pants that Brady gave you as a gag gift, the way you bit your lip between your teeth.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your trance, your head whipping around to see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet, the nerves getting the best of you. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the grey hoodie you knew for a fact was his favourite. “Oh, right, I have to go first. Um...Are- are you still sure about your feelings for me?” He nodded. “And-and they’re for sure, good feelings?”

“… They’re such good feelings.” You nodded and gave your body another shake through, as if to dissipate the nerves racing throughout your veins.

“I know it’s taken me a while to kinda sort everything out but… I like you too. That’s why hearing those things hurt so much. That’s why I had to take some time. I've been alone for most of my life and it was scary to let someone in so easily, unknowingly. You just waltzed in and made yourself at home in my heart and it felt like you belonged so I… I didn’t even realize you could hurt me. And when I heard those things, it hurt more. It just solidified that I should’ve stayed alone. You can’t get hurt if there’s no one to hurt you right? But every talk, every late night drive, everything we had...it was worth all the hurt. So I’m ready. I want to do this with you, even if it hurts. I don’t know if I can do life without you.” He pushed himself off of the doorframe and came to stand in front of you, his hand cupping your cheeks, soothing the skin under your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and I don’t plan on doing it ever again, Y/n, you have to know that.” You nodded against his hands and you could feel some of his tension fade from his body. “Does this mean… we could be more than friends?”

“I want to be much more than friends with you, Tim.” You bit your lip to try to stop your smile from growing so wide, but it broke through when you saw how wide his smile was and how his eyes crinkled with joy.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” He asked softly, already leaning in. He left space between the two of you so you could decide but you easily leaned into him, your lips meeting. It was gentle but it was loving. You moved in sync, Tim’s hand moving to the back of your head to push you closer to him. Eventually, you pulled away for air.

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

“You know, I don't think you've told me what that really means,” You said with a cheeky smile.

“Would you like me to say it in English, sweetheart?” He brushed his nose with yours.

“Hmm, German is fine,” You tilted your head upwards, almost brushing your lips with his. With your teasing, he let out a groan, bringing you in for another kiss. This time he broke for air, his eyes still slightly closed.

“You know, you cured my homesickness. I never felt like I missed home because I found home in you,” He whispered. Your heart melted and you brought your lips together with a passion he hadn’t seen from you before. Your hands tangled in his hair and he chased your lips as if it was a breakaway. When you broke for air, the two of you were breathless.

“As much as I want to keep doing that, it’s also very early and I am tired. Can we go back to bed please?” His arms were still around your waist, but he leaned back enough that you could see his face, puppy dog eyes and all. You nodded to his request with a soft smile, and went to remove yourself from his arms and go back to your car, but he tightened his grip.

“I got you now, so I’m not letting you go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and slowly the two of you made your way into the warm house. He led you through the dark hallways to his bedroom, giggling and sneaking kisses where you could.

You fell asleep so easily, the quickest you have the entire time you had lived in Ottawa. And it wasn’t only Tim’s warmth, or the way his sheets smell like hockey tape and his peppermint shampoo. You had finally opened yourself up. You had found that belonging your dad always wanted you to. And you found that in Tim; whether he knew it or not, he was home.

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[erensonly]

Cuddle Buddies (Bakugou x Black! Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                             ~Chapter 5: FaceTime?~

1, 2, 3, 4 

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Alright, let me tell you something. When you actually sleep, like really get some decent sleep, you will refuse to wake up, solely because you don’t sleep as much as you should. So when you felt your phone vibrating endlessly, it kinda pissed you off. Rolling over, you grab your phone.

Bakuboy💥

gm dumbass

get up big head

get up im walking you to school

ARE YOU IGNORING ME??

                                                                         Big Head🐥

                                                                        why tf you blowing up my phone??

                                                                        needy ass

                                                                        ill text you when im ready

Walking to the bathroom, you handle your business, hop in the shower, and put on your uniform. You walk to your vanity and just look for a minute, not knowing what to do with that mane on the top of your head. So you go with a simple looking, but actually kinda hard hairstyle. A slicked back ponytail.

Finally finished, you fix your edges and grab your lipgloss and mascara. You know the drill. Walking downstairs, you see a big ass pomeranian talking to your mama. Why is he here?

"Good morning mama," you walk towards her, kissing her cheek. "Why are you here?"

"Because I can. Your mama let me in."

"Duh. Lets go. Bye mama"

"Yeah, bye mama." This cocky fuck. Dragging him out of the house, you punch him in the stomach. "Don't call my mama 'mama'. We ain't married."

"Don't hit me." He bonked you on the head. Like deadass bonked you on the top of your head. "And if I marry you, I can call her 'mama'."

"I- No comment. C'mon before we're late."

Finally arriving at hell, you go to sit down and plan how much you're going to pay attention today. Then Denki walked up to you. You two hadn't interacted much besides small talk here and there. He was cute, kinda pervy, but cute.

"Hey Y/N!"

"Hey Denki. You need something?"

"I was wondering if I could... maybe get your number?" He was very shy. It was adorable.

"Yeah." Taking his phone, you put your number in his contacts. "Text me, kay?" You smiled and turned back around. Then, you noticed it was colder than Santa's ass crack. Putting your arms in your shirt, you put your head down, waiting for Aizawa.

"Damn, it's cold in here." You hug yourself closer, trying to trap any body heat in. One thing you hate to be is cold. Cold is bad. Very bad. Then, you felt a tap on your thigh. You were going to kill this boy one day.

But he handed you a hoodie. Maybe he won't get killed yet.

"Here big head. I saw that you were cold." Awww he was shy.

"Thank you," you muttered, flustered. If you weren't black you would've been blushing, but you can't. The hoodie smelled good. You ain't never smelled something so heavenly in your entire existence. Putting it on, your mood was instantly lifted, but you wouldn't show it.

                                         ~Timeskip to lunch ~

Grabbing your bento box, you walk the cafeteria. Looking for an empty seat you hear someone yelling. "Big head! Come sit here" You look to see the Bakusquad sitting at a table together. Walking towards them, Bakugo scoots over so you can sit next to him.

"L/N, hey!" Denki said.

"Hi Denki!" Then you saw a pink blob, a red rock, and tape dispenser. "Hey Sero. Wassup Mina. Kiri, hi," You said to everyone, facing your attention towards each person. Opening your bento box, you see some wonderful, delectable, delicious gumbo and garlic biscuits. You grab a spoon out of the bento and start to eat, then you notice everyone staring at you.

"What? Is there a problem?" Then they all looked away awkwardly. "No... Of course not."

"So what are y'all looking at?" Looking at them confused, you realize that they had probably never seen someone eat gumbo before. "OH! Y'all wanna try it?" Everyone nodded their heads. Usually, you didn't share your food, but they were curious so maybe this one time you could share. Grabbing an extra spoon, you give everyone a spoonful.

Their eyes lit up instantly. "Big head, what is this?" Everyone looked at you expectantly. "It's called gumbo. It's really big in the States as well as other places. You like it?"

Without even answering, he grabbed your spoon and bento and took another bite. This motherfu- You looked at everybody else. "You guys like it?"

"Y/N, this is amazing! I need to have more of this."

"I can probably get Mama to make some more and you guys can come over and eat."

Then you turn and see this blonde bitch still eating your food. He completely pushed his food aside and started gobbling yours. "Damn! Slow down, this ain't even yours." Taking it back you eat more of it. Enjoying it, you feel someone staring at you. Mind you, everyone has been talking throughout the whole lunch break up to this point and whoever was staring didn't stop.

"What Bakugo? You want some?" He turned around flustered. Of course would be flustered, emotionally constipated bastard. "Here," you push the bento towards him to let him eat again. Before he could start eating again, you take the spoon. "Say thank you."

"Tch," he scoffs. Giving him a look, he mumbles, "Thank you, dumbass." Better. "You're welcome, asshole."

"You two are cute." Mina. Of course she would say that bull. "I know I'm cute, I don't know about him though." You started to laugh at Bakugo. The punched your thigh and kept eating. This big ass hedgehog just punched me. Cocking your hand back, you slap the back of his head. As soon as Denki, Kiri, and Sero heard that you hear: "I like ya cut G."

That pissed Bakugo off. He started yelling and cursing at us, drawing attention to the table. Ew, attention. "Shut up! Stop yelling you damn hedgehog. You got everybody looking at us like we some damn fools. Be quiet!" Silence. "Thank you."

It's time to go now, grabbing the spoon and the box, you start to walk back to the classroom. Noticing you still had the hoodie on, you realize that Mina wasn't only talking about you sharing your food. Discombobulated, you put your head down and wait for everyone to get back.

~Another timeskip because I'm too lazy to write anything else for this part~

Finally, the end of the day. No more being social with people. You start packing up as usual. Getting ready to walk out the door, you realize to still had the hoodie on. You started to take it off, then a hand stopped you. "Keep it." Unsure, you look at him. "Are you sure? I can give it back if you want it."

"If I wanted it back, I would've taken it already. Keep it, big head."

"Thank you. Now, let's go" Grabbing his wrist, you drag him to the exit. It was the usual route, and more bickering amongst each other. Finally at home, you say your goodbyes and start to open the door when you felt a tug on your hand. Then a kiss on your cheek.

He snickered.  Was he copying you? Sneaky fuck. "Text me," was the last thing he said before walking away towards his house. How dare he be so smooth all the time. You were gonna catch him slipping one day.

Walking inside, you start to unwind. Sitting down at your desk to get started on the homework you didn't finish in class, you remember to text Denki and Bakugo. Now you were distracted. You and Denki sending memes and tiktoks, and you and Bakugo with your usual bickering and casual flirting.

After you finished your homework you went to lay down. Then, you got a text from Bakugo.

Bakuboy💥

FaceTime?

Before you could respond you had an incoming FaceTime call. Answering the phone you propped your phone up , grabbing your bonnet/scarf and started to wrap your hair while you two started to talk.

"What are you doing, Big head?"

"Wrapping my hair so it stays protected while I sleep and because it saves time so I won't have to do too much in the morning."

You continued to answer his questions about your hair. You two had been talking for hours, about everything and anything in between. Eventually, you heard a snore. He was sleeping. Looking at the time you saw it was 3:53 A.M. Sinking further into your bed, you slowly start to fall asleep.

You finally felt at peace while sleeping since It had happened. You could get used to it.

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And that is a wrap. This piece of crap shouldn't have taken 3-4 days to write but it did. As always, I hope yall enjoyed it. And thank you soooooo  much for 400+ reads on Wattpad. I really appreciate it. I go on wattpad everyday, and everyday there is a new surprise for me there. When we hit 500 reads, I will try put out a new chapter everyday for a week. Thx for reading ♥

[a-portable-snack]

@writer-who-cant-write135​ Thank you so much for your ask! Wanna take a stab at what city I live in? 

Detroit and Chill

Kai looked at the rubber duck sitting next to his computer. He just read his entire code out loud to said duck but it still won’t run properly. And the duck didn’t warn him it won’t.

“Ugh! This doesn’t work.” He tossed the duck behind him.

“Ouch!”

Kai turned to realize he didn’t hear Adam come into their dorm… which is somehow impressive on Adam’s part for being so quiet and Kai’s part for being so focused.

“Sorry, man. This code is driving me insane. I want to send it over to Reeve to look over but I also don’t want to send it over and have him be like ‘This is 100% wrong’” Kai rubbed his neck and turned back to his computer. He knows its probably a simple thing he’s missing and he doesn’t want Reeve to find it.

Kai went to start typing but his chair was suddenly pulled back. Adam stepped in-between Kai and his computer and started typing something.

“Adam! Don’t mess with the code! I know you’re smart but I know you know NOTHING about code.”

“You’re right but Reeve does. I just sent it to him and you’re taking a break with me while he looks it over.” Adam turned back to Kai.

“You had no right to do that!” Kai stood up so he was eye to eye with Adam “Just because you seem to be ahead on your work and are bored doesn’t mean you can get between me and my work!”

“I’m sorry” Adam put his hands in the air to surrender “but it’s definitely the only way you’ll step away. I’ve been here for 20 minutes and you didn’t realize I came in. You’re hyper-fixating, overworking, and getting nothing done. I know I stepped over a line but I will do it again if it means you won’t work yourself to the ground!”

Kai knew he was right. Last year, Adam never stepped between Kai and his work and Kai’s perfectionist tendencies and ADHD had him almost to the hospital from overworking. Adam was just trying to help and take care of him. But Kai can still be mad.

“So,” Adam caught Kai’s eyes. “We are going out to do something fun. We’re going distract you until Reeve emails back saying what you’re missing and it’s ok that you needed help because Robotic and Megatronic engineering is hard as fuck.”

“Fine, but you’re fucking wining and dining me asshole.”

“Valid” Adam smiled and grabbed his coat. Kai had to change his close because his Pokemon pajama pants won’t cut it. Adam was on his phone searching for something when Kai came out of the bathroom.

“Let’s go!” Adam’s eyes were bright as he grabbed Kai’s hand. Adam pulled Kai all the way to Adam’s car.

“Adam! Not all of us are in perfect shape. SLOW DOWN!”

“Dude I’m so excited about this! It’s going to be so much fun” Adam jumped into his car. By the time Kai was in the passenger seat, Adam was buzzing. Adam’s excitement was infectious and Kai just smiled as Adam started driving. Kai couldn’t look away as Adam sped through the streets of Detroit.

Detroit is such an interesting place to live because there’s so many different types of people all smashed into southeast Michigan. So Adam could be taking him to anything between a cool tour of some car museum to Mexican Town having a deal on tamales. Kai really hopes its the latter. Adam’s mom has set standards for tamales that only Mexican Town can compete with.

When Adam followed the highway to the Riverwalk, Kai started to think they were heading to the GM building. But Adam turned away from it.

“Are we heading to Campus Martius?” Kai asked.

“Kind of! We’re going to Lafayette Coney then we’re heading to Campus Martius” Adam parked next to the historical coney place and Kai excitedly jumped out.

“Yes! I need a good coney! We can walk to Campus Martius from here. I’ll cover parking” Kai pulled this wallet out to put in the coins.

“No no no! Wining and dining remember!” Adam stood in front of Kai and took his wallet out of his hand. Adam reached around and put the wallet into Kai’s back pocket.

“I-i was joking” Kai couldn’t stop the blush from spreading across his face. Adam noticed and smirked at him.

Adam didn’t know what to do with Kai. The boy was adorable and smart and god they worked together so well. They’ve lived together for 2 years now in the dorms and they are a well oiled machine. It was almost impossible not to fall in love. But Adam truly did try. Adam tried to limit how much he talked with Kai over the summer so he could get some distance. Adam thought he had gotten rid of his feelings. He started to open up communication again and was ok with their relationship. Then Adam sent a snap of Captain America saying ‘My type of man’ and you want to know how this motherfucker responded?

I guess I need to work out. I GUESS I NEED TO WORK OUT. WHAT THE FUCK?

So Adam has feeling still and doesn’t know what to do. But here they were. On something that could be considered a date. Just, vibing.

“Let’s walk and eat” Adam said after he paid for the hot dogs. “I know the line at Campus MArtius will be long”

“Why?” Kai asked, mouth full.

“It’s the first day that the ice skating ring is open!” Adam put his hands up in excitement. Kai seemed to shrink down little.

“O-oh! That sounds fun! It’ll be great” Adam noticed the hesitance and feared he made the wrong choice.

“If you don’t want to ice skate we can do something else! I know there’s heated huts that shops rent out, the Riverwalk’s open, there’s a bar or two…”

“It’s fine! I’ve just never ice skated before so I’m kinda nervous” Kai fiddled with the wrapper on his coney.

“Don’t worry,” Adam snuck an arm around Kai’s waist and whispered in his ear. “I won’t let you fall.”

For moment, Adam thought Kai was going to jump away and blush but he was surprised. Instead, Kai leaned into Adam and said, “You better not.”

It was Adam’s turn to blush and become a flustered. Adam can usually serve out flirtatious comments like nothing but the moment they come back at him, he’s a puddle. And receiving flirting back from Kai, who usually shies away? Nope, Adam isn’t emotionally prepared for it.

“O-ok”

Kai laughed and laced his fingers between Adam’s. He seemed hesitant at first but when Adam firmly held his hand, a smile spread across his face.

“Let’s go get in line”

They finished their coneys and ran to rent skates. There were already a bunch of people on the small ring but Adam was ready to get out there.

“Ok! This doesn’t look too hard!” Kai watched people going around as he laced up his skates.

“You think so?” Adam smirked.

“Yeah! I’ll be fine.”

He was not fine.

Adam hit the ice and skated right off. He was able to file into the crowd nicely. He was graceful and obviously knew what he was doing. Kai on th other hand put on foot on the ice and immediately lost control. He gripped the rail like a life line tried to figure out his feet. They kept seeming to go in every which way.

Kai looked up and saw Adam rounding the corner to come back to him. He held himself up against the wall and pretended he wasn’t struggling as much as he was. Adam skidded to a stop next him.

“How’s it going?”

“Oh you know! It’s simple. Just gliding” Kai tried to brush off the fact that he could barely hold himself up.

“Come on. Let me take you around” Adam offered a hand with a small smile. Kai smiled back at his and took his hand. Kai pushed off the rail and immediately lost his balance.

“Adam, why is this so hard?” Kai clutched Adam’s arm like it was a life source. Somehow Adam was just skating like it was walking. Fuck him.

“Ha, for some reason physics doesn’t work when it comes to ice skating” Adam laughed. Adam pulled away little and Kai pulled him closer.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Don’t worry!” Adam was trying so hard not to laugh at him. Adam held onto Kai hand and flipped around to skate backwards and pull Kai along.

“You just wanted to show off you could skate backwards”

“Maybe” Adam smiled “It’s also the best way to learn. Just focus on holding your hips steady and switching your weight from left to right. When you switch, give a gentle push.”

Kai followed Adam’s instructions, watching his feet and focusing on his weight. Kai found a rhythm as they made it around the ice rink at a reasonable pace. Adam smiled at Kai, unable to hold anything back. God, if only Kai knew what he did to Adam.

“You got it!”

“You’re right! This is easy.”

Kai looked up at Adam and he saw all the love and excitement. It was overwhelming. Suddenly, Kai completely lost all since of control and was falling. Adam wasn’t ready for it and fell with him. So there they were shocked, laying on cold ice, in the middle of a crowded rink. Suddenly and eight year old skated by with the grace of a figure skater.

“Tsk, lame”

Adam and Kai look at each other in shock then burst out laughing. Of course they would get called lame by an eight year old. Adam shift to get them up. Kai felt like a baby horse trying to find his legs on the ice. This rink really does seem to say fuck physics.

“Now that our pride is throughly bruised, can I interest you in a hot chocolate?”

“Definitely”

Adam led them to the edge and they stepped on to normal land.

“Is it bad I’m tempted to kiss the ground?”

“Definitely, this is Detroit. We have no idea what is going on down there.”

“Valid, not doing that.”

Adam was still holding onto Kai as they ordered their hot chocolates. They sat in the warming tent at a table. They talked and drank hot chocolate. They were completely lost within each other. Loudly talking about dumb teachers, and new Netflix shows, and that one kid on their floor who they swear is a wizard.

“No, I’m joking. He has a pet centipede in his dorm. I’m pretty the RAs are letting him keep it because they don’t want to have confiscate it. It freaks me out.” Kai laughed.

“There’s no way. I had a FISH they took away! I had to pull out a handbook to prove I could have him.” Adam shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” the girl that was working behind the counter came up to them. “It’s time for us to close down. You need to return your skates and head home so we can close.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! We’re leaving right now!” Adam and Kai picked up their stuff and quickly left Campus Martius.

“Sorry I kept you out so late.” Adam said when they got to his car. He rubbed his neck nervously. Kai grabbed Adam’s free hand and pulled .

“Don’t be sorry. I should be thanking you. I really needed this. I would still be hunched over code, probably crying, if it weren’t for you. So, thank you.” Kai leaned gently into Adam with a soft smile.

Kai was suddenly kissing Adam. Kai wasn’t 100% what convinced him to do it but he couldn’t get the look Adam had on his face in the ice rink out of his head. Adam immediately leaned into the kiss and used his free hand to hold Kai’s cheek. Kai pulled back with a smile on his face.

“I’m so happy you kissed back because the drive would have been so awkward.”

Adam started laughing. He pulled Kai in for another kiss. His wide smile made it very difficult to properly kiss. Kai wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. Kai pulled away and buried his face in the crook of Adam’s neck. Adam held him close.

“Let’s head back to the dorm.” Kai said. “I have a bag of popcorn and an illegal download of Mutant Spiders Paradise calling our names.”

“Sounds great” Adam unlocks his car and they went home.

[skippyv20]

✝️✝️✝️🌈🌈🌈💟💟💟PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON💟💟💟🌈🌈🌈✝️✝️✝️

Kids this audio software is just working out great for me may not give me better answers to the riddle but poetry makes my working on it a whole lot easier on my hands I’m so thankful so so thankful.

MM Anon

MM ANON ……… formula sprog………… madness will spill………… stupid father………… no she wont’ yes she will……… Nigel’s illegal pint………… Williams cider………… Spain’s pain……………… ahhhhhh, blonde bits …………… 🎼only the lonely🎼……………… for love or MONEY …………… HMTQ ( NENC) ………… with the contempt she deserves …………… it’s all a gamble , Arrrrrr!!

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Entertainment purposes 

July 4/20

✝️✝️✝️🌈🌈🌈💟💟💟THANK YOU MM ANON💟💟💟🌈🌈🌈✝️✝️✝️

July 5/2020

I don’t believe there was a riddle for Sunday. Sorry l have been off this weekends kids. Going to do my best here.

a RIDDLE #56

formula sprog………… 

HOW LONG HAS BERNIE ECCLESTONE BEEN THE HEAD OF F1 RACING?? SEEMS FOREVER. HE HAS ALOT OF CHILDREN AND HAS HAD MORE THAN HIS SHARE OF SUPERMODEL GIRLFRIENDS, HEIDI KLUM TO NAMONI CAMPBELL. WELL THE RIPE AGE OF 89 GENT HAS DONE IT AGAIN. A NEW BABY BOY WITH A WOMAN HALF HIS AGE, BABES INITIALS SPELL ACE, ALEXANDER CHARLES, WITH HIS THIRD WIFE FABRIANA FLOSI. CONGRATULATIONS.

madness will spill………… 

There used to be an unwritten agreement that anybody who is caught with in any area of the Palace illegally without permission breaking in whatever would not be arrested it would not be made public but they will be quietly and quickly locked away in a psychiatric facility for quite some time. For some reason this change just before the gentleman broke into her Majesty‘s bedroom oh I can’t remember what year that was. Madam is known to have been attempting to do this and also attempting to take pictures of the Cambridge children and various areas of which Christmas time at Sandringham when she would go to the bathroom whenever she would attempt to take the long way around. And take some pictures. We do know that Prince Charles had her summarily shipped back and escorted back to the United States after being discovered trying that serve trick.This MOS lawsuit that she’s got her self into of her own choice and whatever comes out when that  is made public I don’t know if it’s going to drive her mad she may already be mad but she’s going to stick with her narcissism till the end of the road. I think what we have here is  GM going mad at the loss of her fancy lifestyle and having everything in anything the way she wants it and she will be spilling her guts completely to get a deal and who knows what that will look like. All I know is they better keep a better eye on her than they did on her partner JE there.

stupid father………… 

There are several stupid fathers here to choose from and I’m not sure which one it would be it would be daddy Thomas.  GM’s father she’s she’s the youngest daughter and was always said to be his favourite and I think there’s a lot of nefarious activities going on there from day one. So I think he would be a good person in the running for this description that’s for sure. I’m not sure if that’s who you’re looking for an  MM ANONI think he could be an option so could daddy Thomas so could several people that I can think of .

no she wont’ yes she will……… 

No she won’t yes she will know she won’t yes she will back-and-forth game will GM talk won’t GM talk won’t GM talk.I’m sure it has many people sitting on the edge of the edge of their seats.

Nigel’s illegal pint………… 

Rumours abound that Nigel Farage has just returned from the United States and he did not do any quarantining or self isolating, but instead he went out to to have a drink.. Again we see another example of one rule for the upper ups and one rule for the regular people.

Williams cider………… 

On July 3 Prince William visit at the Rose and Crown pub talking about how the business has been affected with Covid and that sort of thing. And he looked he looked like he was enjoying his Aspalls cider.Try saying the name of that cider into a speaker audio software and you’ll see what comes out and you say I had to manually fix that that was not appropriate.

Spain’s pain……………… 

Spain has been  been hit particularly hard by the Covid virus both in Numbers and in deaths. On the Catalonia region on July 4  went back into lockdown due to a spike in cases. I think we’re going to continue to see this happen globally places will start to unlock down in the more people move around it’s gonna go up again.

ahhhhhh, blonde bits …………… 

When I see the term blonde bits it can refer to several things. But I think man this thing of people sitting on the throne I don’t know other than the queen or princess Philip. Prince Andrew was dating Caprice, a well-known socialite. L believe she’s American but she sure has done the rounds in London. In fact when the real housewives kind of version tv show Ladies  in London their first season Caprice was actually on there. I’m ashamed to actually admit that I watch the first two seasons of Ladies in London.I think she was pregnant with twins at the time it was so dramatic. The rumour goes and I don’t know if it’s true or not but the prince Andrew let her sit on his mothers throne so I don’t know if that’s what this is referring to but it just might be.

🎼only the lonely🎼……………… 

GREAT ROY ORBISON SONG, IF YOU LIKE HIS VOICE MANNER. Roy Orbison had a really wobbly kind of singing voice it was very very distinct. I have a feeling that this is Madam and she’s feeling very sorry for herself she’s a lonely even though she’s PR ‘edup the wazoo that she’s happier than ever with her hairy and her Archie in her wonderful life in Los Angeles.

for love or MONEY …………… 

Definitely for the money that’s why everybody is out for in this whole scenario love has nothing to do with it. All these doctors and gave makers in dealmakers and oh icky people. Somebody is buying that dossier from the DM I’m certain of it to get that information out and I don’t know who that would be and I don’t know who would have that kind of money but it’s definitely going to come out and it’s going to be as far removed from the royal family as possible so they cannot even be the appearance of propriety or impropriety that they are involved in any way shape or form. I think this is gonna happen in the near future because with GM and in custody now I am I think things are gonna start to roll if she starts to to flap her lips.

HMTQ ( NENC) ………… 

HER STANDARD, NEVER EXPLAIN NEVER COMPLAIN. (SHE GOT THAT FROM HER MUM HMTQM, THROUGHOUT THE REIGN OF HER HUSBAND.)Well everything has been going on for the last couple of years with Harry and the backers and everything else we have not heard a word of complaint from HMTQ. If there were ever a time to complain seeing that photo of a GM and KS sitting on the throne and it’s just makes me absolutely sick.

with the contempt she deserves …………… 

This could be referring to Madam or to GM. Since there has been such a long contempt in this sphere for Madam I am going to go with GM. I have no doubt that she is going to try and save her scrawny butt and she knows a lot of information about a lot of people and she should be very very nervous I think at this point I can’t even imagine. And I know that she will be treated with all the respect that a court allows but she will be treated with as much contempt as she deserves because she certainly deserves as much or more contempt of the men because she has a female recruited young girls it’s just absolutely beyond the pale of disgusting.

it’s all a gamble , Arrrrrr!!

When I read this l think of a pirate so I do.I don’t think this refers to pirates though. I think this has to do with the long game that has been played now between the royal family the backers the whole political movement to get rid of the Monarchy. We have in the background the attempt to get a princess Andrew who is a friend of GM and JE was that in fact the first attempt to infiltrate the royal family? The back is hiring Madam to go at our Harry I was at the second attempt? This is all one long game of poker got to have a good poker face to stay in this game for as long as the Lord Geidt has and it’s her long is Her Majesty has and this is not at  the end I don’t think I think there’s a lot to happen yet. And the arrrrrr is just the utter frustration for everybody imagine being directly involved!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Entertainment purposes 

July 4/20

Thank you PG...very interesting stuff coming these days.....😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Red Light, pt 1

Hockey AU - Featuring Star Trek AOS, first person OFC.

XXX

There was something about the smell of freshly cleaned ice that instantly transported me back to my childhood, and every time I came in to work, that reminder of happier times made the stress of this job worth it. It wasn’t that I disliked my job - in fact, I loved it. But it was stressful managing publicity and media for a hockey team.

The San Fransisco Enterprise has been the best team in the United Federation of Hockey for the past four years. After the retirement of General Manager Christopher Pike, however, the team had been struggling. There were new players, and the team just wasn’t gelling under team captain Jim Kirk. The starting line-up was a hot mess. Kirk was at centre, and a new trade, Spock, had traded in at season start with a personal record for goals from his team on New Vulcan. Spock was a precision player, head always in the game, brain always four passes ahead. Kirk, on the other hand, was a cowboy. He played tight in the corners, and was a hard hitter, but his strategy was better summed up as flying by the seat of his pants. The men had nearly come to blows in practice, and barely tolerated one another on the ice. That conflict made for an uneasy team all around.

Team morale was worsened when ‘Doc’ Puri, the journeyman goaltender who seemed to be able to stop anything, blew out his knee on a road trip. It was a career-ending injury, despite the advances to medicine that had come in the three-hundred plus years since the game had been invented. The new GM had to find another goalie, and quick. 

Which is what had been the biggest thing on my plate for the past week. Geoff M’Benga, the second string goalie, was in his first year in the pros. He was competent, but lacked the confidence to truly take the reins as the lead goalie. Talks had been heated, but finally, a trade was made with the Proxima Bees. The Enterprise’s draft pick for star goalie Leonard McCoy. McCoy was considered the best in the league, although his year had been off to a rough start. The man could stop almost anything, but the Proxima defense lines were weak and when they allow fifty plus shots on goal per night, there’s only so much one goaltender can do. McCoy was happy to be traded; the Enterprise had a solid defensive corp led by Montgomery Scott and Pavel Chekov, and the rumour was his marriage had just fallen apart and he was longing to get away from the drama.

I cleared my head of my musings, and filled my coffee cup at the pot in the corner of the office. The rich aroma of the coffee, countered with the cool tang of cleaned ice focused my thoughts on the day’s tasks. The press conference to announce the acquisition of McCoy was scheduled for 10. I needed a tight media release and some smiling players to welcome the new goalie. I pressed the button on my communicator to connect with the changeroom. 

“Kirk, Spock, please come to the administrative offices when you’re done showering,” I announced. The loudspeaker in the changeroom would be amplifying my voice over the din created by the showers, and I knew I could expect the men to arrive shortly. I logged into my PADD and pulled up McCoy’s current stats to begin the media release.

“I’m afraid Kirk is outside signing autographs and flirting,” Spock announced as he walked into the office. “I let him know you wanted to see us, and he said he would be up shortly.”

“How are you settling in, Spock?” I asked. The team was ten games into the season, and I’d been hoping to see a more cohesive group by now.

“I’m starting to understand Kirk’s playing style,” he admitted. “It’s not to my liking, but his recklessness does have some advantages.”

“You guys need a team-building retreat,” I laughed. “Strand you on an island so you have to cooperate to survive.”

Spock looked horrified at the suggestion. “Every practice is an opportunity to build our team,” he protested.

“Yeah, but part of what makes a team work is when you like each other. You have to be able to see your strengths and weaknesses and figure out how they complement each other. That’s easier to do when you are not only teammates, but friends,” I offered. He shrugged.

“I’m not sure that Kirk and I are destined to be friends,” he replied, without a hint of malice. “I fear we are too different.”

“More alike than you realize,” I countered. “But I have faith it’ll come.”

“We will see. As interesting as your perspective is, I hardly think you called us in here for a pep-talk,” he changed the subject quickly. The doors behind me opened and Kirk strolled in. Spock must have seen his approach.

“Leonard McCoy should land at nine this morning, and we have a press conference scheduled for ten. Marcus wants a couple of players at the scrum to welcome him. As top scorer and team captain, I felt you two were the obvious choices.” I directed my comments to both men. Kirk smiled his lazy, handsome smile and sat on the edge of my desk.

“Is that the only reason you picked me?” He asked. I raised my eyebrow in question and then realized he was trying to flirt. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“I’m not one of your puck bunnies, Jim,” I reminded him. “I’m immune to the charms of hockey players.”

“I keep telling you that if you just give me one chance, I can change your mind,” he teased. I laughed in response.

“And I keep telling you, I am a professional, and cannot compromise my integrity by carrying on with someone at work.” 

“That’s kindest way I’ve ever heard someone say that I’m not their type,” he winked.

“I appreciate that you recognize it as that,” I laughed.

“I appreciate that you allow me to continue to flirt with you,” he shrugged. “Keeps my skills up.”

“As if you need practice, Jim Kirk!” I shook my head again, but couldn’t help but smile. Of all the hockey players I’d ever interacted with, Jim Kirk was the safest. He loved to flirt, he loved to play the romance card, but he always respected the women he flirted with, and never went too far, never made anyone uncomfortable. “Now, scoot, both of you. I have work to do.”

XXX

I checked over everything that was needed for the press conference. Media release was ready, the new jersey for McCoy had just come up from having his name and number sewn on, scrum room was clean, chairs out, mics working. I placed the script for the GM on the prompter, and made sure it was running at his speed, and then double checked it. Marcus was not the kind of leader to make friends, and he ran a tight ship. He made me uncomfortable, and as a result, I actively sought to minimize our interactions. Being called on the floor because I’d screwed up something simple was not on the agenda. 

I was waiting at the zamboni bay doors for the arrival of the new goalie, to bring him to the press conference. The shuttle arrived from the airport just moments after I’d stepped outside. Leonard McCoy stepped out, ballcap pulled low on his brow. He swung his equipment bag over one shoulder and grabbed his stick bag with his free hand. He scowled at me as he approached. I reached for the stick bag and he pulled back.

“I can manage my equipment just fine, sweetheart. Just tell me where it goes,” he growled. I cocked my head to one side and gave him a hard look.

“My name is Samantha Nelsen, not sweetheart. You are welcome to call me Sam, or Ms. Nelsen,” I corrected sharply.

“Where do I stow my equipment, Sunshine?” he snapped.

“I was under the impression this move was a happy one,” I countered, my tone equally sharp and I gestured to a dolly sitting just inside the doors. “Perhaps you can put on your big boy pants before the press conference? You have five minutes.”

He dropped his bags with a heavy sigh and turned to face me. He looked exhausted. His jaw was covered in a three day growth of stubble, and there were bags under his eyes that appeared to be packing their own bags. Aside from that, he was as undeniably gorgeous as all his headshots had made him out to be.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m running on empty,” he apologized, pulling his ballcap off and rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Lawyer met me at the airport this morning to give me all the paperwork on my divorce. She took everything, the house, the car. She may as well have taken the goddamn team and the whole damn planet. All I’ve got left is my bones.”

“And a shiny new contract with the Enterprise,” I reminded him. “So let’s go counter some bad press with some good, shall we?” I offered a smile, hoping he realized I was effectively erasing his bad first impression. I headed toward the elevator, my heels clicking smartly on the hard cement.

“So you’re the media gal?” He asked, catching up with a quick skip. I pursed my lips and nodded.

“I prefer Manager of Broadcasting, Communications and Public Relations, media gal is kind of old fashioned,” I corrected with a wink, wondering exactly how many times I was going to have to straighten up this man’s language and bring it into the 23rd century.

“Of course, ma’am,” he nodded and bit his lip. I wasn’t sure if he was trying not to smile, or trying to bite back a smart comment. I suspected it might be both. I stepped on the elevator and held the door for him. As the doors closed, I turned and looked him over. 

“We need to stop in the office and grab you an Enterprise hat. Get rid of that ratty old Bees one. You glad to be back on Earth, at least?” I asked. He pulled his hat off again, and scrubbed his hand through his short, messy hair. I led him from the elevator to the office and pulled a hat out a closet full of swag. 

“I’ll let you know after I’ve had some actual sleep.” He pulled the hat on and checked his reflection in the mirror by my desk, slapping his cheeks a little to wake himself up. “This old face has a few more miles in it, anyhow.”

“Yeah, doesn’t look like you’ve stopped many pucks with it,” I teased, tipping my head toward the doors leading to the media room. He smirked.

“Why, Ms. Nelsen, I’d hazard you just told me you find me handsome,” he teased, meeting my eyes. With his temperament improved, and warmth in his eyes, it was undeniable, the man was stupidly hot.

“Focus on the press conference, pretty boy,” I laughed, opening the door for him. He walked in to the press conference, and I headed to the back of the room to manage the media.

[msblackriver]

I Worked With a Future Racist Cop at a Popular Asian Restaurant

When I worked at this popular Asian chain restaurant (y’all have heard of it). I witnessed the beginnings of a white racist cop. It actually was the most racist environment I've ever been in. During my 6 month stay there, I heard many racist remarks and unnecessary identifications of someone’s skin color. I did not for the most part say anything until one day I did. I admit I probably should have said something much sooner but I've always been non confrontational and for that reason I allowed them to make me uncomfortable every day. The vast majority of the server staff there was Asian, and the level of prejudice was beyond belief. Where waitresses would constantly complain when they got a “brotha sista” table, “brotha sista” was their way of saying ‘black’, they called white people simply “american”, see any problems here? The majority of the servers participated in these conversations.

Most days it was this type of prejudice I would witness, “why you give me all the brotha sista?” they would complain to the host. 3 of the 4 hosts were black or mixed, 2 of them were the sons of the GM who was Japanese, their mother was black. I was told that certain hosts worked with certain waitresses and gave them better tables which of course meant white people. The GM’s kids seemed used to hearing this stuff. I never saw them participate in it but it seemed they were good friends with one of the worst offenders, they were also teenagers.

The person I am today would not have waited nearly as long to say something, and probably would not have worked in a horrible environment like that for that long. But I also have to accept that was who I was. I was someone who didn’t speak up when I should have. I was at times triggered and highly uncomfortable but I was silent, by being silent they may have assumed that I was okay with it or that I wasn’t black? I somehow was not black to them I was “other”, this is part of the reason I had a fly on the wall experience I believe? My appearance to some is not ‘their’ definition of black, I am East African and some East Africans have this sort of response from people, as we generally don’t look African American. For many people if you don’t fit this mold then you aren’t black to them. This explains why it may of been said initially but my silence is what kept it going.

The sad truth too is that when you don’t say something people will just become more and more comfortable, and their offenses gradually become worse and worse; this is human behavior. This I guess is why one day they were able to have such a disgusting conversation within earshot of me.

The staff was mainly Asian and Hispanic, with a few Black, Indian, and White employees.

The reason they didn’t want the “brotha sista” was because they didn’t tip. There is some truth to this as I found out after working there but still… You gotta take the L sometimes as a waiter/waitress, also if you know that your restaurant is a popular spot for black people, I just don’t see what’s the point of complaining every time you get a black table. The Minneapolis was about 18% black at the time. Of the diners in the restaurant I would say about 30% were black, we knew this, accept it and move on.

One black woman asked for her ice cream before the food, and that really set off the top server, “Stupid black girl! she want her ice cweam befo’ da food.” Why did she have to point out her race? Entirely unnecessary and suggested that she thought black people as a whole were stupid. The same woman later on in a moment of understanding how what she said could be offensive said that they “didn’t want the black customers because they didn’t tip, if they tip it ok, Mexican don’t tip either, Asians don’t tip either but they cheap so cheap they don’t even go out to eat so we don’t worry about them, they don’t come here.” So there you have it, it was strictly about the money, but still not o.k. to profile your customers based on the color of their skin. There were a few, very few who did not participate in all this bullshit but the majority of them did.

In the beginning I thought I should call John Quinones so they could do an undercover expose for ABC. One day they really pushed it over the edge. The atmosphere was uncomfortable for me but made it very comfortable for the two white boys there. Now that racist shit was bad coming from the Asians but sounded even worse coming from the white boys, it may not be right but this is just how I felt. Again it was the daily “brother sista” talk, they moved in and adapted to the lingo “oh God” they would say disappointed “more brotha sista.”

That was pretty much what it was until one day I overheard the worst conversation I've ever heard. The 3 of them sat there discussing the previous day, it was the 2 white boys and an Asian woman (the top Server). Mathew’s father had come to the restaurant the night before and was seated with black people, he complained and asked to be moved because “they were so loud and stupid.” This was all said with a laugh and received laughter from the other 2. “Yeah my dad does not like black people”, again said with a laugh and everyone was just very amused. The restaurant was community style seating which meant you could be seated with another group of people if you had less than 8 in your party. The conversation continued and it took an even worse turn where Mathew says that his dad told him that he should be a cop and work in Texas, “there you can beat the shit out of black people and get away with it.” I could not believe what I was hearing, my blood was boiling now, a few minutes later I confronted him.

“What you were saying a few minutes ago is not cool.”

He looked caught off guard, his eyes were wide.

“Are you a racist?” not sure why I asked.

“Um no i’m not, my dad is.”

“Well whatever you believe you can talk about it at home or with your friends but you can’t talk about that shit here at work.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m not a racist my dad is.”

He apologized a few times, he was nervous, the asshole piece of shit felt bad for being called out. I sat at a table and vented, my Filipino coworker put 2 and 2 together and understood

“so when I work with you, you don’t like what I say about black people either.” She looked at me waiting for me to respond.

“Well” I said, “you shouldn’t talk bad about black people in front of black people”

“but honey why you mad you not black you half and half.” She felt what she said was o.k. because she assumed I was “half and half”, which is untrue. Her racist ass thought that a person that wasn’t full black would and should undoubtedly denounce their blackness completely. She felt guilty as she should, she was actually one of the better ones there (sad I know). I was clearly upset and it now made them uncomfortable, funny isn’t it how that works? whereas I was uncomfortable everyday. I looked over to my right gesturing towards some of our Hispanic co workers

“i’m not gonna talk bad about Mexicans in front of them.” She so quickly and eagerly wanted to correct me and make me the bad guy, “but see they don’t like that either, they not all Mexican some of them are Salvadorian.” She was telling me something I already knew, the fact though is that some of them were Mexican, and I just used that as an example. She was so desperate to make me wrong to make me the same as her because she thought the whole time that what she said was cool. The funny thing is I never even called her out, she called herself out. I was talking about the white boy and what he said, she basically turned herself in. Even if I mistakenly called a Salvadorian a Mexican that isn’t racist that’s just ignorant, that doesn’t mean there is necessarily hate behind that, she was gas lighting to save herself. Here I was upset and she is there accusing me making me more upset.

Unfortunately this type of racism and prejudice is very common, fortunately for many of them they will not be in positions that determine the fate of black people. Their racism will not go beyond an unwelcoming demeanor in the area of which they live and work. Not offering the same level of service and good citizenship to customers and co inhabitants of their city based on a persons perceived race. Speaking negatively of other races when they feel they are not around. For a few they will enter positions where they can cause more severe harm like ‘Mathew’ who was considering joining law enforcement. I wish I remembered his last name so it would be easier to look him up, but I pray he did not join the force.

[pkducklett]

“Roll For Initiative”-A Secret Satan Fic

Now Available On Ao3!

Hello @iceway145, I was your Secret Satan this year! I hope a game of Gargoyles and Gravel is a fun day off activity you were looking for. I also hope your holiday was the right amount of spookiness that tops off to a good rest of the year!

Characters: Miss Pauling, Scout, Engineer, Pyro, Heavy, Sniper, Demo, and Soldier.

Rating: General

Summary: Miss Pauling plays Game Master to the mercenaries through a haunted house in a fun game of Gargoyles and Gravel.

‘The fog clears as the wind rushes past you. With it every candle in the room is snuffed out with one single “Whoosh”’

“Oh crap? Is that bad?”

“We won’t know unless you shut up, Scout.”

‘It is pitch black. It is dead quiet. In the quiet, you can faintly hear scattering of claws from the lower floor. High pitched voices speak in hushed tones. Then! A flash a light manifests above your party! It hovers for a while before-’

“I’m sorry, Miss P, but what just happened?”

“Well, you are witnessing a floating orb that manifested above you guys.” Miss Pauling explained. She sat at the end of the table behind a cardboard screen propped up to cover her notes. Around the table were her players, seven of the nine mercenaries who agreed to test run her campaign. She had been pleasantly surprised that Engie and Demo already knew how to play, and helped in the disastrous character building process. She still couldn’t believe Scout had suggested playing a gun wielding bard. 

“Okay, but like. Is this somethin’ that’s suppose to happen?” Scout, the half-elf bard, had been asking questions like this all night.

“It’s Gargoyles and Gravel.” Engie, the dwarf cleric, was running low on his patience. “If she says it happens, then it does boy.”

“Mmmph!” Pyro, the half-devil sorcerer, gleefully clapped their hands.

“No, mate. I don’t think setting the orb on fire is a good idea.” Sniper, the wood elf ranger, tapped his pen on his character sheet. 

“Ms. Pauling.” Heavy, the half-orc barbarian, folded his hands and looked thoughtfully to her. “What do we know about this orb?”

She shuffled some papers behind her GM screen. “Uh, roll me an arcana check.” 

“Arcana is for what skill?”

“Intelligence.” Demo, the half-dragon paladin, replied. In one hand he held his 20 sided die, and in the other was his half drunk bottle of scrumpy. “Here, I’ll roll too.” He dropped his die to the table. “Well, I apparently dun believe in magic. That’s a 3 fer me.”

“Okay, what did you roll Heavy?” 

“I rolled 17. That is good, right?”

Demo leaned over, checking Heavy’s character sheet. “Be sure to add your modifier.” He whispered.

Heavy nodded. “Yes, of course, I rolled 18 then Ms. Pauling.”

‘As Malac looks up at the orb, he gets the sense that he’s seen this type of magic somewhere before. Perhaps back at the mines. An overwhelming sense of-’

“Wait! The mine’s is where we killed all those people” Scout once again interrupted. “And picked up Soldier.”

“Yes!” Soldier, the human fighter (who joined mid-session when Medic killed his in game character to go to the store and get beer), piped up with cheerful ignorance. 

“Yes, that is where we met Jane Doe.” Miss Pauling sighed. Why did she let Soldier name his character that? “Now if I can continue, please?”

‘An overwhelming sense of dread comes over you. As you all watch the orb, it floats over to the basement doorway. Illuminating a keyhole on the doorknob.’

“Oh, Snipes, ya still got the key we picked off the Doc’s corpse?” Engie snapped to attention. 

“Mmmph mmph.” 

“No, burning down the door ain’t gonna help us here, Firebug.”

Sniper looked down at his sheet. “Yeh. It’s right ‘ere. ‘Key with no master’.” He pointed to one specific line on his inventory list. 

“Well, try the door laddie.” Demo piped up before taking a swig of alcohol.

“Okay. I take the key, and I try to turn the lock with it.” Sniper emphasized his words with his hands. 

Miss Pauling rubbed her hands together. 

‘Ololar inserts the key and turns. The door swings out before him, revealing a dim stairwell.’

“Mmmph mmmmph!”

“No! We ain’t gonna use fire on this, Pyro!”

“Mmmph mph?” 

“Because we are in a wooden structure and we’d all burn to death!” Engie explained, aggravated. 

Pyro pointed to their character sheet “Mmmmph mmmph mmph.”

“Yes, I see the part that says you’re resistant to fire.” Engie pointed to his own sheet “But I am showing you the part that says my character is not! No fire, period.”

“Ladies please!” Scout snapped “Okay, so there’s stairs to the basement. The place we heard that’s cursed? And we’re just gonna go down there?”

“Pretty much laddie. I reckon we go down there if we wan the story to continue.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Miss Pauling confirmed.

“Okay, just making sure.”

She turned her attention back to Sniper “You want to lead the party down the stairs, Sniper?”

After a quick glance at his sheet, he shook his head. “Not with my defense at 13, I don’t.” 

Soldier got up like he was about to speak. 

“Heavy will go first.” Heavy spoke before the other mercenary had the chance to.

“Okay Malac first, then-” 

Demo raised his hand. “Iorhazar”

Scout practically tripped on the table to get his hand up. “Riword”

Pyro held up their hand, and reaching over, high-fived Scout’s. “Morxes”

Engie gently pulled Pyro back to their seat. “Gramrak”

She pointed to Sniper, “You wanna go next or…” She got a nod in response. Making a few notes, she continued “Okay that means Jane will be bringing up the rear. Got that, Soldier?”

“Yes. I am going in the rear.”

“That means last, Soldier.”

“Yes. I am going in the last.”

“Moving on.” She held her gaze on the group.

‘As you walk down the stairs, you get the sense that you are being watched. It’s as if the house is alive and is tracking your steps. The creaks in the stairs are enough to put you on edge. You walk slowly. Slowly you reach the bottom of the stairs. There’s a door right at the bottom, it is old, and wet. It smells of mold and decay. The moldy door is slightly ajar. You can hear the faint murmur of high-pitched voices inside. Soldier, I mean, Jane recognizes their speech as the Goblin tongue.’

“Goblins? So what’re they sayin’ Soldier?” Demo asked encouragingly. 

“Uh, what are the Goblins saying Miss Pauling?” Soldier whispered.

“Only an ounce more blood and the ritual is complete.” She said in her best Goblin voice “No give it here, Leechnose, you’re doing it wrong. No! No!” she giggled imitating two Goblins fighting over something in a tug-of-war.

Soldier looked at her blankly. 

She coughed, composing herself. “That’s what they’re saying Soldier, you might want to let your party know what you heard.”

He turned to the rest of the mercenaries “What she said.”

“So they’re doing some sorta ritual?” Engie rubbed his hand over his chin. “Wonder what for?”

“Perhaps it is same as curse that killed doktor?” Heavy suggested. 

“What, the desire for more beer?” Scout asked.

“In game, Scout.” Engie put his forehead in his hand. “But that is a good point, Heav. What if the curse that killed Doc and the Goblin ritual are connected?”

“Then I would advise we continue cautiously, we don’t know what-” Sniper began.

“Miss Pauling, I kick down the door!” Soldier interrupted. 

“That is exactly what we shouldn’t be doin in this situation, man!” Scout shouted.

‘Jane pushes his way through the group and busts down the door. Inside he sees…’ 

She paused to roll some dice. 

‘Four Goblins. Two are standing closer to the door and the other two are back against the edge of the room. “Who in the nine hells is yous?” the larger of the two back Goblins screeches.’

Silence.

“He was talking to you, Soldier.” Miss Pauling whispered. 

“I am Soldier.”

“Your character, their talking to your character, Soldier.” Demo explained, taking another sip of scrumpy. 

“Oh.” Soldier replied sheepish. “I am Jane.”

‘“And what exactlys do you think yous is doing here?”’

“We are in this house because we are here to stop a curse that killed our friend.”

‘“We, huh?” the Goblin rubs his grubby little hands together. “So there’s more of you?”’

“Yes. I’m here with my friends.”

“Soldier don’t tell ‘em we’re here!” Scout said in a practically pleading tone. 

‘“Sniffles, Coughy, Flem!” He says as he picks up a wooden club. “Let’s get ‘em”’

“Everyone roll me initiative!” Miss Pauling clapped her hands together. She took a few moments to write down everyone’s rolls and roll for her Goblins behind the screen. “Scout, you’re first. What does Riword do?”

Scout stared blankly at his character sheet. “Uh, how ‘bout I take out my sword thingy and stab one of the Goblins with it?”

“Roll to hit.”

He plopped his die to the table. “God freakin dammit!”

“Yep, that there’s a crit fail.” Engie observed. 

‘Riword takes a step forward but a bug flies into his mouth. He chokes and collapses to the wet, decaying, floor.’

“Can I get up?” Scout asked. 

“Is it your turn?” Miss Pauling inquired.

“I don’t know, is it my turn still?”

“No.” She responded. “Heavy, Malac’s up next. What do you do?”

“Is Scout still choking?” Heavy asked calmly.

Miss Pauling rolled a die behind her screen. “Yes.”

“What? Really?!” Scout interjected. 

“Ok. Heavy would like to help teammate stop choking. What does Heavy roll?”

“Uh, medicine I guess.”

He rolled his die. “That is 7.”

“Please tell me that’s without your modifier man, I’m dying here!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced to his sheet. “That is 6.”

“What! How is your modifier making it lower?” Scout questioned.

“Heavy is barbarian. Heavy does not need wisdom.” 

‘Malac presses his hands on Riward’s stomach. He doesn’t appear to know what he’s doing. He presses once, and the bug flies out. He presses again, and the half-elf is gasping for air. He presses a third time, Riword has now passed out.’

“Dude, stop trying to help me!”

‘Malac stops after the third attempt.’

“That’s Heavy’s turn. Now it’s time for Leechnose’s turn, and he is targeting…” she rolled behind the screen. “Jane.”

“Yes Miss Pauling?” Soldier asked.

“Does a 15 hit your character?”

Soldier looked at his sheet confused. Demo peered over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Okay, Leechnose comes at your character and swings. He misses his first attack, and…” she rolled again. “Misses again, that was a 14. And now we’re on to Ololar. What does your character do, Sniper?”

“Same thing as last fight.” Sniper rolled a die. “I’m marking the furthest Goblin from me and shooting it with me shortbow. I rolled an 18, I assume that hits, yeah?”

She flipped some papers. “Yep. That hit. What was the damage?” 

He rolled another die “8 plus…” he rolled again. “…5, 13 total.”

“Okay, that was Coughy you hit and he isn’t dead, but is close.”

Sniper gave a thumbs up in response.

“Now it’s Morxes’ turn, Pyro.”

“Mmmph mmph!”

“Okay, Morxes’ casts firebolt. Roll to hit.”

Pryo rolled their die. 

“No freakin way, dude!” Scout exclaimed. “That’s your fourth 20 in a row!”

Pyro pointed to their sheet. 

“Twinned spell, that’s fine Pyro. Roll on the magic table if you would too.”

Pyro rolled another die, then pointed to a spot in the rule book.

Engie started to laugh. “That’s another three targets getting the 4d10 lightning damage.” 

“Un-freakin-believable.” Scout pressed his hands to his face.

Miss Pauling stared down at her notes. “Yeah, with a crit and the lightning, those Goblins are dead. Good job, uh, guys.” She rolled a die. “35 exp each.”

“How do you get so lucky at this stupid game?” Scout muttered to Pyro bitterly. He wrote his experience down. 

Pyro shrugged, rather smug.

‘As the final Goblin drops dead, from a combination of fire and lightning, the orb manifests above you guys again. It floats down to the end of the room. As it passes, it stops briefly above a pedestal before moving on. It is floating above-’

“Pedestal? What’s on the pedestal?” Scout asked.

“Everyone roll perception.” A few dice rolls later, she continued 

‘On the pedestal lies an amulet. It is very old and rusted. It is covered in blood, from the Goblin ritual. And Iorhazar,’ she nodded to the Demo who rolled highest ‘You have the feeling that this amulet is bad news.’

Demo nodded in response. “The amulet’s not important, laddies.” he said in character, “Let’s just move on to the-”

“Miss Pauling! I pick up the amulet!” Soldier interrupted. 

[zedecksiew]

Troika!

When I got Daniel Sell’s Planescape-meets-Fighting Fantasy-but-odder RPG Troika! in PDF I screenshot-ed its intro paragraphs:

“ excuse me but I think @Ignus1 has written the best introduction to roleplaying games ever I think the rest of us can go home now ” 

was what I said about it on Twitter.

When I got it in hardcopy -- book arrived this week -- I read it cover to cover. One sitting. This rarely happens with books, for me, and never with RPG books.

I’m a little bit in love, maybe.

+

Three things stand out.

One: the prose has a real ease to it.

There’s no door-stopping chapter about Troika!’s setting. All its world-building is done via available character background options; the item and spell and monster lists; the odd intro adventure in the back of the book. 

Here’s one of the player-character backgrounds you could roll:

“65 YONGARDY LAWYER

Down in Yongardy they do things differently. They respect the Law. Every day there is a queue outside the courts to get a seat to see the latest up and coming barrister defend their case with three feet of steel. The people follow the careers of their favourite solicitors, watch all their cases, collect their portraits, and sneak into the court after hours to dab the patches of blood on white handkerchiefs.

In Yongardy, they love the Law.”

Here’s how the “Befuddle” spell is described:

“A wizard’s touch can shake up someone’s mind like a snow globe. The target makes all rolls at a -1 penalty until their head clears. Lasts for 3 minutes.”

This isn’t 100% natural language. But even when Daniel is explaining the rules for armour or initiative (initiative being the ruleset’s weirdest feature) his style is pithy, evocative, a pleasure to read. " ... like a snow globe.”

Like Luka, I do think that RPGs could be written better. And I think Troika! does that.

+

Two: where Daniel designs from.

Not sure how else to put this; I’m not a rules or design person. Maybe some examples will help.

There’s the introductory salutations above. Here’s a bit in character creation:

“Roll randomly to determine your starting Background. Notice that they only touch the edge of specificity: it is up to you to tailor them to the worlds you play in. Rework them or remove them entirely and replace them with your own unique vision of the spheres. Boldly lay claim to the games you play, create content recklessly, and always write in pen.”

The following is from a Q&A section that starts off Troika!’s intro adventure, “The Blancmange & Thistle”, essentially a six-floor walk up a hotel full of weirdos:

“I don’t know what’s going on! None of us do. Ride it out and see what happens! You can apply meaning and history to everything in your next session in light of the events of the first. Encourage the players to connect the dots for you.”

The whole book has a: “You’ve got this! I believe in you! YES!” tone to it.

As a system Troika! is pretty loose. It provides just enough for a foundation, then exhorts the GM and players to build upon that foundation.

I know this will rankle the kind of players who need boundaries to optimise up to and argue against --

But I like it. It is game design that springs from a sense of trust. The system assumes players can and will find their own fun; resolve conflicts in ways that are considerate to each other. In the absence of a higher Designer-God to enforce balance or scold bad behaviour, you only have each other.

Patrick, in his review, observes:

“You could, if you wanted to, make a kind of soft social-justicy, vaguely anarchist, James C. Scottish argument here about very rules-light systems minimising authority structures and necessitating flat and collaborative social arrangements because there is simply not enough to argue about and because the necessary lacunae in rules description silently urge the players and DM to work together to resolve problems of mutual description without ever demanding that they work together in a flat social structure. Guidance through silence and opportunity rather than through warning and control.”

That rings true, to me.

Considering my past experience with tightly-wound, defensive rulesets meant to prevent exploits or steer play along “correct” tracks -- like Torchbearer -- it should be obvious which kind of design I prefer; which kind I think is more humane.

+

Three: how the damn book feels.

Have come to realise that if I only have a book in PDF form I never read it closely enough to write about it. Guess a book’s hand-feel is really important to me?

Troika! feels damn good. I love the matte softness of its pages, the warmth of its colours. Something about its palette really edifies the art -- by Jeremy Duncan, Dirk Detweiler Leichty, Sam Mameli, and Andrew Walter; a veritable dream team. (The non-digital pen-work looks particularly nice.)

I’ve got a new book to show off to my friends.

+

GET IT HERE. (And get it in dead-trees format. So worth it.)

[ducksbellorum]

the gorgon an arc five mix - no dice fandom - arranged by ducksbellorum

The Game: roll the bones - shakey graves "Are you ready? Let's roll the dice." Yeah, so it goes That sweet heirloom Them abbey stones Oh, take a chance and roll the bones

Rhuna Diamondgaze: naruto main theme - naruto "Comin' in hot!" [instrumental]

Perry: raise hell - dorothy "I got it! Saoirse, I got it! Did you figure this out already or do I have to explain this?" Young blood, stand and deliver No need for a queen of air Young gun, gotta pull the trigger When the whole world running scared

The Library of Beth-Maal: book of golden stories - runrig "I don't think this place is actually haunted, I think there's a necromancer in it." Days of open roads Now the autumn leaves are falling We'll meet on the edges Memories, no regrets

Research: reading rainbow theme - chaka khan "I am no longer interested in the books, I know Saoirse's got this." Take a look, it's in a book, A reading rainbow! I can go anywhere Friends to know, and ways to grow

Saoirse: everything is awful - the decemberists "You used the draw of a library and the promise of information to lure us here so you could use us and kill us and- Magic missile." Everything is awful What's that crashing sound follows us around? That's the sound of all things good breaking

Ixen: lift me up (i'm falling) - david boskett "This is why I don't wrap my head around anything, and punching is great." Lift me up, I'm falling Feel your love run through me like a drug Feel alive when you're near me Lift me up

Waxler Eval: grave digger - blues saraceno "I'm going to explain this very very quickly and I'm just gonna say I'm very sorry and I had nothing to do with this." Grave digger, grave digger Bring me to my knees Forget what I have done Forgive me if you please

Relationships: the lion's roar - first aid kit "The entire boat trip was stolen glances."

“Her soul is bound to my soul.”

Now I guess sometimes I wish you were a little more predictable That I could read you just like a book For now I can only guess what's coming next By examining your timid smile

Bonus: The GM the next episode - dr dre "Yo, man, everybody trusts a stoner, right?" We gon' rock it til the wheels fall off, hold up For my playas who be actin too bold, take a seat Hope you ready for the next episode, hey Smoke weed every day!

ALTERNATELY

the ballad of the flying snakes - modesty "I haven't thought of much past the chorus, but-" Flying snakes! Nana! Snake! Dead!

[download/8tracks/spotify]

[stephfitblr]

late night random updates AKA a budoblr related rant and my mental breakdown

I’ve been having really bad anxiety (like recurring unexplained panic attacks and not being able to get out of bed and just generally suck). My doctor thinks my birth control might be triggering it, so I’m going off of that for a couple months to see if things improve. It’s day two and I’m feeling pretty bad. Hoping this passes soon.

Did I talk about nationals and how I got 5th place? I think so. I was thrilled to not come in last. I was proud of my 5.5 score. I think the thing I didn’t mention is how my Grandmaster tore me down for not medaling. In front of everyone. Like I was a disobedient child. I had a panic attack that day. Then that night we (the whole team) went out to dinner. I was seated next to him (not by choice) and he made jokes about my performance and quips about how I’ll have to work twice as hard if I want to do half as bad next year.

I took three weeks off of training after that. I thought about quitting for good. I went back once and GM started talking about 2019 nationals. I told him I couldn’t care less. Then I asked for a refund for the black belt uniforms that I paid for (that he never ordered). I went another week without going to class.

I got the refund yesterday, and I went back to class tonight. GM asked me if I plan to continue training for my second dan. I said yes, but I don’t plan to be in the dojang everyday and I don’t want to compete anymore. I don’t know if he understands it’s directly because of how he treated me. How he’s continually treated me. How I’ve chalked it up to cultural differences or explained it away as me needing to respect his position and authority. How I told myself that he was tough on me because I could handle it or because he believed in me. Bullshit. There were other students who also didn’t medal and he publicly praised their hard work. Posted their pictures on Facebook. Told their parents how much they improved. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. He told me that I need to learn to listen and obey to his commands. I was BEAMING with pride at my 5th place and I walked away deflated like a used balloon.

I hate being in class. I basically went from training 6 days a week to maybe once a week. I made a comment to GM about maybe switching my focus to sparring instead of poomsae and then that became a whole thing - do you want to do it competitively? You need to lose weight. Do you want to go to nationals next year? Sparring is a lot harder than the drills we do in class. What about local tournaments? Like bro? Idk if I even want to be here. I’m just so done with taeguek forms and there’s not enough black belts to work with. I don’t want to have to teach myself taebek and pyongyang or wtf it’s called. The senior black belt division is like the most serious competition because these peeps go to the olympics. I just want to train and have fun and grow as martial artist. Not everything is about winning. Sometimes it’s about growing as a person. Sometimes you learn more from a loss than a win. Sometimes it’s being so fucking proud that you worked your ass off and trained everyday for two years straight for a shot at nationals. Sometimes it’s being proud of yourself for just stepping on the mat. For just showing up. For doing your best.

But my best wasn’t good enough for him. And I’m starting to realize that I might never be good enough for him. He will praise every other student in the dojang and then criticize me. He will put me in situations where I’ve had to teach class on no notice to “test” me. I always have to run the poomsae “one more time” or do 10 more pushups after everyone else is done. He’ll question me and then change the answers he was looking for. It’s like I can’t win. He wants me to listen and obey and be a good little black belt and be an example for others and show up early and stay late and clean the bathrooms and do all his office work unpaid and doesn’t she have the best attitude because I won’t dare speak ill of him in front of others but he has not once said one nice thing to me. Every compliment is a hidden dagger. He knows my insecurities and highlights them. “Stephanie, your front kick is so high! It’s a shame your thighs are so thick.” Or “you can fight? I didn’t think you had it in you” AFTER I trained in Krav Maga for years. “Your movements would look so natural if you were a man.” “You must be working hard, you’re pouring sweat all over my nice clean mats.”

I don’t know what the hell I want to do or if I’m feeling all emotional because of my anxiety or if this whole situation is what is triggering it. I’m so on edge and just not enjoying what used to be my favorite pastime. And like I know people are going to say that maybe I should take a break or maybe I should look for a new dojang but it’s so much more complicated than that like I’ve poured my heart and soul into this for over four years now and i don’t want to throw it all away but on the other hand I’m legitimately losing my mind. Was I always terrible and I just lulled myself into a false sense of confidence? Were they just humoring me this whole time? Is this all just a sick joke? Am I even a black belt? What do I do now? Walk away? Stand up for myself? Why did I let him treat me this way for so long? Why do I keep going back!

[max-neverland]

Sword Art Online: The Birdcage

The world was falling apart. The red and gold beams of the final sunset bathed Aincrad in one last fiery glow before the floating castle shattered. The sun continued to shine; it grew brighter and brighter until there was nothing left in SAO but a blinding white light and the last two players seated at the edge of the heavens.

Asuna pressed her forehead against Kirito’s. His tears were warm on her cheeks and his body trembled in her arms. For all the strength Kirito had shown throughout the game, the fear of never being able to find her in the real world was breaking him. Asuna felt the tears well up behind her own closed eyes.

“I love… I love you,” she whispered.

And then he was gone.

* * * * * *

Something was wrong; Asuna knew it before she even opened her eyes. She knew that she should be waking up confined to a hospital bed, surrounded by the smells of disinfectant and the sounds of machine beeps, in an emaciated body that was barely keeping her alive. There should be the clack of nurse’s heels in the hallway, or perhaps the soft sobs of the patient in the next room.

Instead, she felt warm. The air was filled with bird song and a soft rustling sound, likes leaves and wings. She was kneeling on something hard, but it didn’t seem to pain her in any way as she would have expected. Slowly, fearfully, Asuna opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the bars: tall golden bars surrounding her on all sides that rose high up into the air to eventually connect at the top, forming a giant birdcage. Beyond the gleaming bars ran the branches of a tree that was too large to be possible.

“This doesn’t look like anywhere in SAO, but I don’t think this is the real world either. So, where am I?” wondered Asuna aloud.

She surveyed the elegantly simple interior of the birdcage. All around the edge ran a flowerbed blooming with soft coloured petals, broken only by a gate with a keypad fixed to the side. At one end of the birdcage was a wide bed draped with white sheets; it had a high raised side with a stout mirror fixed along its length, and a thin veil was suspended from a gold frame above it. A long seat with a red cushioned top stood beside the bed. Beyond that was a pair of matching padded chairs tucked under a small round table. The last thing was a small shaped tree.

It took her but a moment to take all this in, and then she was flitting across the birdcage to the gate. She tried to lift it at first and when that failed, she punched random codes into the keypad; access was denied again and again. Frustrated, she turned back to the furnishings, trying to find anything she could use to break free, and finally caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the bed. A soft gasp parted her lips.

She wore a long white skirt knotted at her waist, and a flimsy strip of matching material was held in place across her chest with a red ribbon tied in a bow; the skirt parted just above her knees to expose her legs, and her stomach was bared. Two thick locks of her hair were pulled back into tight braids from her temples, adorned at the back of her head with a further matching strip of white material. Her feet were bare but for the white ribbons crossing just above her toes to loop around her ankles.

Poking out of her hair were two long pointed ears trimmed with metal leaf plates along the top. Asuna reached up and touched them; they were real – just as real as the pair of long translucent wings sprouting from her back, which fluttered when she rolled her shoulders.

“I’m still in the NerveGear,” she whispered.

Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, but she forced them back with a deep breath. Crying would do her no good. She was Lightning Flash Asuna, sub-leader of the Knights of the Blood and one of the most revered players in Aincrad. This was just another level to clear. I’ll check my inventory and skill set. She lifted her hand in front of her and swiped down, expecting the menu screen to appear before her as it did in SAO; when nothing happened, she tried with her other hand and then with various combinations of swiping. Nothing.

“Menu,” she said aloud. “Inventory. Settings. Log out. System admin help.”

Her commands were met with a resounding silence. Not giving up hope, she strode over to the table. Maybe it’s a game master console? She ran her hands over every inch of it, but her search activated nothing. Her investigation of the rest of the birdcage remained fruitless as well. She stood in front of the golden gate and rattled the bars in frustration.

Her ears suddenly twitched as a new sound reached her: footsteps echoing through the treetops, coming closer and closer until a faint figure emerged from the canopy far along her branch. She strained her eyes to make out the silhouette.

“Who’s there? Kirito-kun? I’m in here! Kirito!”

She stretched her arm out through the bars – and then snatched it back with a hasty step backwards. The avatar that came into view was a stranger. He was tall, with pointed ears to match her own. He was richly garbed in a dark green robe and cloak fixed at his breast with a large emerald. His long blonde hair was held back from his pale face by a heavy gold crown set with another large emerald. A pair of translucent green wings burst from his shoulder blades.

The avatar stopped on the other side of the bars. He wet his lips, his cold eyes hungry as they roamed over her body. Asuna fought back the shiver that tried to climb up her spine and she kept light on her toes, ready to spring. She did not recognise him, but the animal way in which he looked at her was eerily familiar.

“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her voice cool and unwavering.

“Why, Titania, what an odd question,” the avatar replied silkily. “After all, every queen should know her king.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Asuna. “Let me go.”

He gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He tapped on the matching keypad on his side of the bars and the gate slid up. When he stepped through, Asuna launched herself at him, her wings propelling her forward and her body poised for battle – and then she found herself slammed against the bars.  The avatar pinned her there, his grip like iron and his breath hot on her face; his own face was ugly and twisted, his eyes bulging in their sockets. With horror, Asuna realised she was as helpless in this new virtual world as she had been that very first day in Aincrad’s Town of Beginnings. She could do nothing but feign the strength she wished she felt inside even as the gate slid shut again, trapping her inside once more.

The avatar took hold of a lock of her hair and dragged it under his nose, breathing in deeply. Asuna fought back a shudder. It’s not real, it’s not real…

“Perfection,” the avatar drawled. “You’re just as beautiful here as you are in the real world.”

“Sugou Nobuyuki,” Asuna breathed. “You’re a GM, aren’t you?“

“You were always so clever.”

The avatar – Sugou – leered at her. He inhaled her scent again, then ran his thumb down her cheek, pressing it hard into her flesh. His eyes roamed down her body once more, lingering on her chest, and then he released her. She allowed herself a single shaky breath to regain her composure when he turned and moved away from her, his arms out stretched as if he were on display.

“Here in Alfheim, I am the Fairy King Oberon, and you are my bride, the lovely Queen Titania,” he declared.

“Never,” hissed Asuna.

Sugou clicked his tongue at her as if she were a naughty child. He pulled a chair out from the table and lounged in it, leaning back with his legs splayed and his hands linked behind his head. Asuna walked over to the long seat beside the bed and sat down there, keeping Sugou in sight the whole time. She rested her palms carefully on her knees and fixed the fairy king with a cool gaze.

“Sword Art Online was cleared,” she told him. “I saw it happen. All the surviving players should have woken up. I should have woken up.”

“Yes, it was cleared,” confirmed Sugou, “and the majority of players that were left alive have woken up, including the game’s big hero. Kirito, wasn’t it? The Black Swordsman.”

From the ugly look on his face as he spat out Kirito’s name, Asuna suspected that he must have had some idea of what she and Kirito had been to each other in SAO. Asuna kept her own face impassive, but inside her heart thudded against her breast, simultaneously overjoyed and breaking. Kirito was free. He had made it out. Had he found her in the real world yet? Did he have any idea that her mind had been stolen by another virtual world? And then another sickening thought, the one that had frightened her so much in SAO: how much longer did her body have before it wasted away and she died? I need to get out of here.

“Why am I here?” she asked Sugou.

“To be my queen,” he replied.

“You know I will never agree to that.”

“You will,” said Sugou, his eyes glittering manically again. “After all, I could make you, but I’d rather you wanted me the way I’ve always wanted you.”

“That will never happen.”

“This cage is impenetrable,” said Sugou, rising to his feet and gesturing at the bars, “and no one knows you’re here; no one in Alfhiem and no one in the real world. I’ve blocked your menu access. You have no inventory. No skills. No players can reach you here in the World Tree. Not even the other system admins know that you’re here. It’s just you and me and this cosy little cage. It could be fun, if you’d let it.”

He came towards her with an almost predatory walk, moving closer with every word he spoke until he was looming over her rigid avatar. He placed his fingers on her jaw and forced her head up, but when he brought his face down as if to kiss her she couldn’t stop herself from flinching. He sneered at her reaction and put his lips to her ear instead.

“I’m a patient man. I can wait,” he whispered. “You’ll be begging me for it soon enough.”

“Let me go,” commanded Asuna.

With a final brush of his thumb across her lips, Sugou withdrew. He straightened up, adjusted his cloak and swept his hair out of his face. Asuna noticed that his expression was no longer crazed; he held himself with noble composure, as if he had donned the mask of the fairy king. This sudden shift in his countenance frightened Asuna even more so.

“I will take my leave, Titania, until the morrow,” said Sugou regally.

With an elegant bow, he turned and left the birdcage. The golden gate slid shut behind him. Asuna waited until his avatar had disappeared from sight before she threw herself down on the bed and wept, her face buried in the sheets the way she had once snuggled into Kirito’s chest during those glorious days in their little log house on Aincrad’s twenty-second floor.

She allowed herself to cry until all the tears were gone, and then she sat up again, drying her cheeks on her palms. This is too cruel, she thought. They had fought so hard for so long only to be snatched away from each other on the very cusp of their freedom. Asuna knew that even though Kirito had returned home, he would never truly be living in the real world until he found her. He was still as much a prisoner to the NerveGear as she was.

Asuna clenched her fists around the bedsheets, her knuckles straining white. She raised her face to the Alfheim sky, letting her eyes blur out the bars so she could look beyond the sprawling World Tree to the endless horizon; it was a brighter blue than she had ever seen in Aincrad. She would have thought it beautiful at another time.

“I won’t let him best me,” she vowed aloud. “I’ll keep on fighting. I won’t give up, but you can’t give up either, Kirito-kun. Look for me. Find me. I’m here.”

[erlandsenwarner26-blog]

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[davidcarner]

Hotel California Ch 5, What’s Going On

A/N: So, I've been messing around with this, and I have two other chapters of this fic sitting on my hard drive and that's just not fair to Dillwg is it? Currently working on Chapter 8. I've noticed in the reviews some of you are wondering why Chuck is working at the hotel. Would you want to work at the Buy More, or a full time job with your friends, benefits, salary, and education paid for? Although I really think I should bring in Jeffster. This one got a little nerdy, but well, I am what I am….Welcome to Hotel California Ch 5, What's Going On

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and despite what the critics say, I loved Justice League

Sarah knocked on Carina's door. Carina looked up, saw her friend, grinned, and waved her in. "Sarah, enjoying time with your new bff?"

"Carina," she began, then paused and shut the door. Carina's eyes widened. She sat back in her chair, ready to hear whatever was going on. She motioned for Sarah to take a seat. Sarah sat, composed herself, and asked a question whose answer she was pretty sure she knew. "Bryce got Chuck kicked out of Stanford, didn't he?"

Carina's grin grew. She crossed her legs, flicking a pen back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. "I thought I made it clear that was his story to tell, and not mine?" Sarah rolled her eyes. "Why would Bryce do that?"

"To get Chuck's security program?"

Carina answered in a voice that did not sound quite like her own. "Sarah Walker, you sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend who's trying to get even with Bryce for banging…what was her name again?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed but she grinned. "Never told you," she replied, now knowing exactly what Carina was up to. Carina shrugged as if to say, "I had to try." Sarah ignored the shrug but followed Carina's train of thought. "So, if I say what I think, I look like the jealous ex-girlfriend." Carina tilted her head to the side as if to agree. Sarah nodded, stood, and began to pace as she thought out loud. "However, Bryce can't fix what's wrong with the system because he didn't create it, leaving him in a conundrum."

"Quite a conundrum, quite a conundrum indeed." Carina watched her friend, and decided to give her the push she needed. "Plus, if you're the owners' kid…"

Sarah stopped and spun toward Carina, grinning. She placed her hands on the chair and leaned toward Carina. "The only way for it to work would be for the owners to see something was wrong and that the man who supposedly created it couldn't fix it. And if you were to say that, Carina Miller, who wasn't picked to be the General Manager, it would look petty." Carina nodded; Sarah was almost there. "So, he has to be exposed. It has to be seen by everyone that Bryce doesn't know how to fix the system, how to update it for today's problems, and that he doesn't understand how the whole thing works." Carina did a slow clap. "That bastard got Chuck kicked out of college."

"And slept with his girlfriend," Carina added softly. "Chuck's had a lot of trouble trusting women since then."

Sarah put her face in her hands. "Especially ones who double click an icon on their computer, call him, and scream at him like it's his fault?" Carina put her lips together and blew out her cheeks, not sure how to respond to that. But then she grinned, yes she did.

"Blondie, has Curls got you hot and bothered? Is that the only button you've double-clicked?"

Sarah looked up at her, her eyes wide, taking in the mirth on Carina's face. "Don't you have some furry porn to look at," Sarah deadpanned. Carina cackled with laughter. Sarah couldn't help herself and began chuckling. A thought ran through her head. "Carina, why did you think Bryce and I would be good together?"

Carina dropped her eyes to her computer, and for the first time since she knew Carina, she thought she saw Carina look ashamed. "Blondie, I used you a little," Carina admitted. Sarah stared at her. "I never thought he'd do this, I didn't. I didn't even know Chuck at the time. He's only been here a little over a month. I had heard stuff about Bryce, but not that he sleeps around more than I do."

"You don't sleep around as much as you like to pretend you do."

Carina attempted to look affronted, but Sarah had her. Carina grinned, and then it fell off of her face. "I will admit it pisses me off a bit that he swept in here and became the GM. He was driving me crazy, so I thought I'd make a few moves before he did something stupid professionally. I thought if I had you two together…"

"You would have someone in his ear he trusted," Sarah finished for her. Carina nodded.

"I knew professionally he'd do whatever, and I know sometimes you'll bend the hell out of a rule to get something done." Sarah smirked, having to agree Carina was right. "I mean, come on, he is pretty." Sarah had to agree with that. "But I didn't know he was this…"

"Asshat," Sarah offered. Carina looked at her. "Chuck's given him that title, and I kinda like it."

"It fits." Carina took a deep breath, time to get it all out there. "I really thought you two would be happy, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I misjudged you so much and what would make you happy. I enjoy a lot of fun, and I'm not saying you aren't fun, but when it comes to men, you care more about the person than the good time, and I lumped you in with me."

Sarah stood there nodding. She understood. It HAD been fun at first with Bryce. Bryce was exciting, and had style, and was charming, but that was it. All of it was just about presentation, when you got down to it, Bryce was as selfish as they came. Chuck wasn't, and she liked that. Chuck…she thought about last night and she winced. "I think I made a mistake."

"Did you sleep with Bryce?"

Sarah whipped her head up, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. "NO! Why would you think that?"

Carina shrugged. "I mean he is pretty, you said you made a mistake so I thought maybe you went to him to get a little relief."

Sarah grinned. "If I wanted relief why would I go to him?"

Carina blinked, thinking about that. "Okay, I need the dirty deets. Are you saying Bryce is bad in bed?"

"I'm saying if you want to have any relief you better be ready to double click your own icon." Carina burst into laughter, and against her better judgement, Sarah couldn't help but join in. When they had calmed down, Sarah was sitting on the edge of Carina's desk. "I told Chuck that I couldn't date at work." Carina nodded. "I think maybe I messed up."

"Hallelujah!" Carina said her hands raised into the air with her shout. "She's almost admitting I was right about something." Sarah gave her a flat look but couldn't help but grin. "So, flirt with him, make him feel special, and then later tell him you changed your mind."

"I did make a deal with him that once this project was over I would have dinner with him, and I would revisit the no dating at work thing." Carina beamed. Sarah grinned. "He thinks I should change it to a no dating asshats policy."

"He's right," the redhead retorted. Sarah gave her a flat look, that Carina shrugged off. "So, do your thing, Blondie, he's crazy about you, I mean he thinks you're a little crazy, but he's into you."

"Thanks, Carina."

"No problem, now I just need to hear you say the magic words, I was wrong Carina, you were right."

"Nope," Sarah replied, heading out of the office. She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder at Carina. "Thanks," she said softly, and left.

"Anytime, Blondie, anytime," Carina said as she sat in her chair, slowly turning the seat side to side, grinning. She really didn't care about Bryce or getting him in trouble. She was happy that two amazing people were finally getting a shot.

"Hey, Sarah," Morgan said to Sarah when he saw her enter the kitchen. It was after four and there weren't many around. "I was about to come find you."

"Sorry, got hung up talking to Carina."

"Oh, did she say anything about me?" Sarah tried to figure out how to answer that without hurting Morgan's feelings, but from the look on his face he had figured out the truth. "Sarah, any advice for me tonight?"

"Be yourself, Morgan, because if she doesn't like you for you, then she doesn't deserve you," Sarah answered honestly. Tears were in Morgan's eyes.

"You know you have my blessing, right?" Sarah just gave him a look. "Oh, don't play that game with me. You're charmed by my boy and you have every right to be. Just be gentle with his heart."

Sarah wasn't sure how to answer him. Who was she kidding? She was interested, but Chuck thought she was half crazy, and if she went and told him she was…. "Morgan, he thinks I'm nuts, and I'll admit, I did act a bit crazy when we first met."

"Love will do that to you," Morgan said with a knowing grin on his face. "You two…I'm just so proud."

"I think you're a bit ahead of yourself, neither one of us are in love."

"Sarah, don't worry, your secret's safe with me." With that, Morgan headed to the back, humming something she never heard of.

She took the pizza box and headed down to the office she was currently sharing with Chuck. Before she got to his office, she stopped. She had to decide what to do. Going back on what she said would make Chuck think she was crazy, but there was nothing that said they couldn't be friends, and after the delegation left, she could tell him she was ready to redefine her dating rules. Being friends with Chuck Bartowski could be a lot of fun. She grinned and headed down the stairs. She saw Chuck sitting back in his chair watching a movie on the wall. Chuck looked like a kid caught in a candy store. He quickly hit some buttons and turned it off.

"Chuck Bartowski, what are you doing?" The smile on her face told him he wasn't in trouble.

"I have nothing else to do until this program is done running, so I'm watching a movie." He got up and showed her the projector. Sarah walked over to the wall and realized it worked perfectly for a screen and then noticed the couch that was sitting in front of the desk that she had been using. "This couch was gonna be thrown out and Carina said we could use it. I've had to come in after hours and fix things sometimes so I have been known to take a nap while needed."

"You geeks get all the toys," she said grinning. There was a strange smile on his face. "What?"

"Nerds." He was shrugging, it was a detail but she could tell it was important to him. "We prefer nerds."

"I do hope you'll accept my most sincere apologies," she said fluttering her eyelids at him, and stepping very close to him, quickly. Inside, she enjoyed watching him melt down. Chuck gulped, he was stunned by her beauty, her closeness, but mainly by just her. "Do you forgive me?"

He took her hands, surprising them both. "Sarah, I don't know how anyone who is human could ever not forgive you." She caught her breath. She wasn't sure how to respond. He licked his lips, and spoke. "I mean you can't help you're crazy." He broke out into the biggest grin, crinkling his nose, while Sarah pulled her hands away, and pushed him in the shoulder. "So, you wanna watch a movie on the couch with me?" She gave him a look. "You know what, I wasn't thinking. You probably want to go home, instead of sitting here all night." She started to answer, but he was in full blown spiral mode. "I mean I want you to know it wasn't like I was going to try any back seat bingo with you." He froze…back seat bingo? He'd heard that term maybe three times in his life. What was it about this woman that made him remember obscure 50s and 60s references?

"You sure know how to sweet talk someone, Chuck."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I just know how you feel about everything, the dating and all of that, and here I go suggesting we watch a movie."

She walked up to him, took his face in her hands, and made him look right at her. "Chuck, we're friends, friends watch movies together. Also, we have a huge project, that you're staying here for, and while I could go home, this delegation is something I fought for so I need to be here. What I was trying to figure out is would you want to watch a horror movie?"

"Me, a horror movie? No, no way." Chuck was shaking his head. "I mean you'd have to hold me I'd be so scared."

Her mouth twisted into a slow grin on one side. She bounced a shoulder. "Your loss," she chirped. She walked over to the pizza leaving him a little stunned. "You have any plates down here?" Chuck broke himself out of his stupor and found the plates. There was a tiny fridge where he had some bottles of water stored. He grabbed a couple and headed over to the couch with Sarah. "What are we watching?"

"Justice League." For the next fifty minutes, Sarah watched the movie while on one side of the couch eating while Chuck was on the other side. They had both finished eating when the computer made a noise, and Chuck jumped up to work on the computer. Sarah turned to look at him.

"Chuck, who was the redheaded woman with Aquaman?"

"It was Mera, she eventually marries him and become queen of Atlantis." He paused, wondered what she'd think of his nerdiness, but decided to just be himself. "You know on the Saturday morning cartoon, it was always he talked to fish, but he has so many more powers."

"Besides being hot?" Sarah asked with a grin.

"I mean the actor's last name is more of the sound you make when you see him," Chuck admitted, shrugging. Sarah roared with laughter. She had her tongue between her teeth and fell over on the couch. "What, he's a good looking guy."

"Yes he is." Sarah had sat back up and was studying Chuck. "You know most guys wouldn't have the guts to say that."

Chuck shrugged, and continued to work on the computer. He saw her watching him and couldn't help himself. "Mera is the queen, but she has her own special set of underwater powers and is just as badass as Aquaman. They rule jointly, one isn't more important than the other. I've heard rumors of a team-up of her and Wonder Woman."

"Really?" Sarah looked intrigued. "That would be an awesome movie. The Amazons and Mera kicking ass. Bad guy ass. Bad woman ass." Chuck grinned and continued working on the next code. He yawned. "Do I bore you, Bartowski?"

Chuck laughed. "No, like I said, didn't sleep well last night, and this is just wearing me out, trying to find all this screwed up code. I usually drink some chardonnay while doing this, it's my thinking juice, but the last thing I need is to get drunk at work." Sarah laughed. Chuck finished what he was doing and headed back to the couch. He started to sit down on the far side, but she patted the middle cushion. He tried to sit down beside her but she spun him and the next thing he knew he had crashed down on the couch, his head in her lap facing toward the TV. She laughed uproariously.

"I'm sorry, I just thought this would be more comfortable," she eventually explained. "Take your shoes off and stretch out. You'd be at home, in bed, if it wasn't for me and this project." Chuck kicked off his Chucks. Sarah noticed them and snickered at Chuck wearing Chucks. What would he do if he knew she had an orange pair?

"I'd much rather be with you," Chuck said before he thought. He winced and tried to think of a better way to rephrase what he said.

"See, this is why I don't date coworkers." Chuck opened his eyes and saw hers looking down, dancing. She was smiling and enjoying herself. Chuck decided to fight fire with fire.

"You look like a cover stealer."

Sarah's eyes widened at that accusation. "Well, you'll never find out."

"At least I'll be warm," he quipped as maturely as possible and stuck out his tongue.

"Chuck," she said softly, running her hand through his curls watching him look a little frightened. What the hell, she thought. Go for the kill. "If I was in your bed, you wouldn't need covers to keep you warm."

"HIYO!" Sarah nearly fell over again from laughter, and would have if Chuck hadn't anchored her in place. Chuck was laughing, and then a yawn hit him so hard that he thought it would break his jaw.

"Go to sleep, Chuck."

"Yes, ma'am." Chuck closed his eyes wondering what he was going to do about this crazy woman who was making him crazy about her.

-ooooo-

"Hey," he heard in his ear. "Chuck." He had never heard his name said like that before and he thought he might move mountains to hear it said that way all the time. He opened his eyes and there was Sarah peering down at him. "Your computer made a noise."

"Thank you." Another yawn threatened to dislocate his jaw. "Sorry." He sat up and tried to shake away the sleep. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour." Chuck got up and headed toward the computer and began working on it. "Hey, the guy that played Aquaman, is he in Game of Thrones?" Chuck stopped mid-type and looked at her. "What?"

"You don't look like a Game of Thrones watcher, that's all."

Sarah gave him a look and he threw his hands up in defense. "You wanna break that down for me?"

"I just didn't think you'd like all the violence, especially towards the wolves."

"I don't care if they kill everyone on that show, but if they kill one more of those wolves," she began, getting up.

"Whoa! Sorry to get you so wound up."

Sarah started laughing. "I like those wolves," she said with an almost pout on her face and Chuck found it absolutely adorable. "By the way, don't you dare start on another code tonight." His eyebrows went up. "You heard me. You've been at this all day. Email me what you have, I'll forward it to them so they can check it off, and you can start fresh in the morning. Then you go home and go to bed."

"I really want to say make me, so bad it isn't funny," Chuck said laughing sending the email to Sarah she asked for. He felt her come up behind him, and he froze. "Uh, Sarah?"

"Do you want me to make sure you get into bed, Chuck?"

"Uh, no, I can do it, besides my sister would have so many questions. Questions that no one is ready for."

Sarah gave him a hug from behind. "Chuck, thank you for doing this. I have a feeling this isn't easy for you, and I'm not asking you to tell me anything, or confide in me, but you having to do this is really an asshat move from Bryce." Chuck nodded, unable to speak. She kissed him on the cheek. Part of Chuck thought he would never wash that cheek again. "You didn't deserve what he did."

"Who said he did anything?" Sarah gave him a look.

In that moment he knew that she knew, but she wasn't going to force it, she wasn't going to say anything, she was just going to let it go. She went over and sent the info to the delegation, grabbed her stuff, and waited for Chuck to finish up. They walked to Sarah's car in silence, her chuckling to herself about him being so gentlemanly but she was sure if something happened she'd be the one protecting him. They got to her car and she could see his three spaces over.

"I did," she said, answering his question from earlier. She got in her car, winked at him, waved, and pulled away. Chuck watch her drive off. He was going to have to work with her very closely the next few weeks and then it would be time for their dinner, and Christmas. She stopped, and rolled down the window. "Hey, did you figure it out yet?"

"Haven't a clue," he answered, grinning.

"Huh. Well, guess we'll just have to try again tomorrow." With that she rolled up her window and drove off. Chuck watched her go, and when he couldn't see her anymore, he whistled and walked over to his car. He stopped short as he saw the brunette there, arms crossed, staring at him.

"Who was that?"

"Ellie, I can explain," Chuck said, scared to death.

A/N: I'm such a stinker…I mean there are times when Chuck has to say, really, who let David write me? Next time, dreams, Morgan, and oh, so much more…come on back for Chapter 6, Partners…take care…see you soon…til next time.

DC