#there were so many big shots this rotation… big shot dial up

[library-whale]

Note to self: do not throw your Wave Breaker at a Big Shot’s cannon.

[featherymalignancy]

PART TWO — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ♥️ 

  Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before. 

This a two-shot, you can find  PART I here.

The Eyes of Texas, PART TWO

By midnight, Rowan knew he was in deep shit.

They’d migrated to another bar by that time, Aelin practically in his lap as they traded stories about college and their friends. Rowan found himself caught between despair and delight as he listened to Aelin speak, unsure if he should be reveling in the attention from a woman of her caliber, or fretting that it couldn’t last.

It wasn’t just that Aelin was beautiful, though he was admittedly so mesmerized by those blue eyes and that dazzling smile that he had to actively avoid staring.

She was funny, too.

And not “when a sexy woman makes a joke you feel oddly compelled to laugh” type of funny, either.

She was fucking hilarious.

She’d had him in stitches earlier with a story about getting the business-end of her grandmother’s chancla after she’d gone to Easter mass with blue teeth from her candy basket, and he’d hardly stopped laughing since.

Rowan had always been a somewhat serious person—even more so after Lyria’s death—but Aelin made him feel...younger. Lighter. And he might have felt guilty for that, except he’d had the oddest sensation throughout the evening that Lyria was there, laughing alongside him.

And—as if gorgeous and hysterical weren’t enough—Aelin was also incredibly bright. Despite the rigors of her volleyball schedule, she was a neuroscience and psychology double major, with plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist when she graduated.

It was an answer that Rowan hadn’t expected when he’d asked what she was studying, but somehow it suited her. The ambition, the focus—it explained in part why she was such an incredible athlete. Rowan knew better than anyone that it took more that height and muscles to be a success in the sport, and even among the juggernauts who’d completed in the tournament, Aelin had been in a class of her own.

She’d grown oddly bashful when he’d pressed her about her volleyball career, at which point she admitted she’d held off med school applications to accept a place on the AVP tour.

“They’ve offered you a spot?” Rowan’d asked.

Aelin’s cheeks had gone slightly pink.

“They called after the tournament,” she’d said. “A scout was there to watch me play.”

“Aelin, that’s incredible.”

At this Aelin’s smile had relaxed into something sensuous that had made Rowan’s stomach tighten.

“Couldn’t have done it without, guapo. ”

Now as Ro sat twirling the tail of Aelin’s braid around a tattooed finger, he tried to remind himself that he needed to shut all these bright and shiny feelings down. Aelin had been a danger to the comfortable numbness Rowan had been living in since the moment she stepped onto the sand of that volleyball court. Now, having heard her laugh and flirt and speak Spanish, she’d become lethal.

He told himself that if he was smart, he’d kiss her cheek right now and tell her goodnight. It would probably take him several days to extract her from pleasant place she’d settled under his skin, but he could stop the bleeding now. If he was smart, he most definitely would not sleep with her.

But apparently he wasn’t smart, because when she’d slyly tugged him to his feet and coaxed him into one of the private closets marked “For Staff Only”, he didn’t stop her.

He also didn’t stop her when she kissed him, tongue sliding effortlessly into his mouth and she hands tracked under his shirt.

It was a bad idea to want Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius the way Ro did, but he found as her hands continued their exploration that he didn’t care. Even if he could only have her for one night, he would make it enough.

“Your body is insane,” Aelin breathed, tracing the ridges of his abs in a way that made him shudder.

He couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk which tugged at his mouth as he kissed her again.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

At this Aelin paused to laugh, eyes sparkling with wicked delight.

“Was that a big dick comment?” She said. “I knew you had it in you, Whitethorn.”

Rowan debated going for the obvious joke about having ‘it’ in her soon before quickly deciding against it. He was tipsy; it didn’t mean he had to be a jackass, too.

“Let’s go, you little troublemaker,” Ro said, reaching for the door which led from the closet to the secluded hallway.

Aelin’s answering grin was staggering in its seductive force. She casually leaned against the door, blocking his exit as she pulled him towards her by the beltloops.

“Why, are you afraid of getting caught?”

He grabbed the hand that was attempting to slip into his pants, pinning it over her head and bowing into her so she could feel how hard he already was.

“No. But the kind of sex I want, you can’t give me here.”

This seemed to stun her into aroused silence, and he reveled in the victory of rendering Aelin Galathynius speechless. However, she recovered quickly, leaning in to nip his lip.

“Fair warning: I’m not easily impressed.”

Her wrists still caught in his grip, he bent to whisper in her ear, grinding a little against her as he did so.

“So you say, but I’m going to guess you’ve only ever been with boys, Aelin. You may not realize it, but I don’t think you have any idea how good sex can actually be.”

Her legs went slightly weak at that, and he slid his knee between her thighs to keep her upright.

“And you’re going to show me?” She asked.

All the things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind, and Rowan had to fend off a groan as he hardened further. Much more of this and they would end up doing it in this closet.

“I am,” he replied simply.

Aelin’s answering laugh was husky.

“How are you the same guy who didn’t have the cojones to ask for my number this afternoon?”

He recognized the gesture for what it was: an attempt to gain back the upper hand in their continued tug-of-war for dominance.

Turned on by her bravura, he let her, adding with a shrug, “I guess I’m more of a ‘lady in the streets’ type.”

Still, unwilling to cede to her completely he shifted his thigh where it was still nestled between her legs. She moaned a little, moving against him almost involuntarily to get the friction she needed.

Despite the desire for privacy enough to make Aelin scream herself hoarse, Ro found the idea of her rubbing one out on him too hot to resist. Rotating his knee, he pushed up until she was practically riding his thigh.

Aelin’s nails dug into his forearm as the seam of her shorts hit the exact right spot. He increased the pressure, and she moaned again, the sound growing more fractured as he snapped open one her overall straps and squeezed her firm breast over the lace. God, her tits were perfect.

“Stop or I’m going to come,” she said, teeth gritted.

Rowan didn’t bother to fend off a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re this easy to set off, Galathynius?” He laughed softly. “God, the things I’m gonna fucking to do to you.”

“I thought you said we weren’t going to bang here.”

“We aren’t,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have an orgasm.”

“You seriously want my first one with you to be while I’m fully clothed?”

He glanced up to meet her overcome blue eyes.

“I just want to show you how many different ways I have to make you scream, Aelin.”

Taking a fistful of the denim jumper, he tugged up roughly until the fabric was splitting her. Even though all her clothes he could see what a gorgeous little pussy she had. The realization he’d soon be inside of her made Ro’s cock ache.

“Fuck,” Aelin said, hips canting forward as he used the back-and-forth friction to drag her closer to release. “This is not how I imagined things going when I brought you in here.”

Rowan kissed her neck.

“Better or worse?”

“Better,” she said. “So much better. Mierda .”

Her body tightened then relaxed slightly against him, and were he inside of her, he knew she’d be clenching around him right now.

“You have a gorgeous come face,” he told her honestly.

“I bet you do, too.”

He couldn’t fight a grin.

“Would you like to find out?”

“Yes please. ”

He pressed forward to kiss her again, their tongues tangling as he breathed, “let’s get out of here.”

Needing no further prompting, Aelin reached behind her to twist open the door before slipping out, Rowan behind her.

Taking his hand, she tugged him towards the exit, her phone already out with a map pulled up.

“Where are we headed?” He asked. “I might be able to help.”

Aelin’s answering smile was cryptic.

“It’s not far. The app is saying a 17-minute walk. Hang on.”

With this she dialed  a number before bringing the phone to her ear. Whoever she was calling—one of her cousins, Ro suspected—picked up on the second ring, and she began giving orders in rapid Spanish. After a minute she hung up, flashing Ro a simpering smile as she batted her lashes.

“Shall we?”

Rowan couldn’t fight a laugh.

“Did you just kick your cousins out of the room?”

“Suite,” she said with a growing smirk. “But who’s counting?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “We could have made it work.”

Her gaze heated, burning hot enough that Ro felt his cock stirring again. He watched as her fingers nimbly went to one of the long braids hanging over her shoulder, deftly undoing the plait.

“We don’t need an audience for all the filthy things I want you to do to me.”

He groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

She smiled, working the other braid free and giving her curtain of blonde hair a shake. Christ, he wanted to run his hands though it, then bunch in it his hands while he fucked that pretty little mouth.

She smirked as if she knew what he was thinking, even biting her lip a little in suggestion.

“Something wrong?” She said.

He only laughed.

“Completely the opposite.”

She smiled, tugging him down the street for ten blocks or so before making a left and heading towards a glittering glass building.

The Ritz Carlton.

Rowan let out a low whistle as they entered the marble lobby.

“You keeping secrets, Galathynius?”

She bit her lip.

“My dad is...not poor.”

“Define ‘not poor’.”

“He owns twenty-three luxury hotels in Miami?”

Rowan’s throat felt a bit scratchy.

“You’re a millionaire.”

Her grin was sheepish and slightly guilty.

“Kinda?”

He must have looked confused.

“I mean, yeah, with a b.”

Holy shit, her family were billionaires.

She studied him for a moment when he stopped walking, trying to take it all in. He wasn’t usually one to be embarrassed about money or his upbringing, but she was stupid rich. He suddenly felt out of his depth.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” she said quietly. “It makes people see me differently.”

At this he glanced up, reading the sadness and loneliness in her eyes.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he found himself saying.

Dating a girl that rich, especially as a cop in Vice Squad—that could be complicated. But that’s not what this was; after tonight, Ro would likely never see her again. Besides, she’d made an effort not to make it a big deal, and hadn’t thrown money around to impress him even when she easily could have. If she could set it aside for the evening, so could he.

Also, he really wanted to fuck her. She was a girl begging for pleasure, and he wanted to be able to show her things she hadn’t experienced even in her wildest fantasies.

Aelin seemed to read the acceptance in his eyes because she tugged him towards the elevator, punching 36 before pushing him against the wall to kiss him.  Sliding his hands down her thighs, he hoisted her easily into his arm, crushing her against him.

When the door opened he didn’t bother putting her down, simply breathed against her mouth, “where?”

She gestured to the left and he headed towards the single door at the end of the hall. Producing a key from her back pocket, she slid to her feet before unlocking the door and ushering him inside.

Ro told himself not to gawk as they stepped farther into the palatial space, but it was impossible.

The lavishly-appointed suite was furnished with a living room, full kitchen, bedroom, and formal dining area, floor-to-ceiling window along the far wall looking out onto the Pacific Ocean.

There was a bottle of expensive Cuban rum and several glasses sitting on the marble island, half-smoked Monte Cristo cigars resting in a nearby tray. The Ashryvvers, it seemed, were no strangers to the finer things in life.

“Do you want a drink?” Aelin asked, trailing a hand down his back and observing him as he took in their surroundings.

He turned to her to say yes, but when he caught sight of the heat in her gaze he changed him mind.

“Later,” he said, walking her backwards into the wall closest to the bedroom.

“Thank god,” she said as he threaded a hand through hers to pull her arm above her head. “I don’t think I could bear to wait.”

Rowan chuckled, teeth grazing her ear as he said, “Does that mean you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say?”

Her blue eyes snapped to him, blazing with defiance.

“What makes you think I’m that type of girl?”

“In your everyday life, you like to be in control?”

“Yes.”

Rowan nodded.

“That’s why.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’re used to responsibility and keeping all the plates spinning, but I bet deep down, you fantasize about being able to let go; you just don’t know how.”

She scoffed, through the sound turned to a breathy exhale as he kissed her neck.

“And what makes you think that I’ll be able to let go with you, a total stranger?”

He pulled back, kissing her softly on the lips.

“Because I am going to make you feel so good and so safe, you won’t have a choice. Do you trust me, Aelin?”

“I have no real reason to,” she hedged. “We just met.”

“But...” he said onto the sensitive skin of her throat.

She paused, muscles in her neck gorgeously taut as he tugged her earlobe with his teeth.

“Díos ayúdame,” she choked out. “Yes, I do.”

“Good girl,” he praised. “Let’s get you naked.”

Throwing the overall strap he’d previously unbuckled over her shoulder, he unsnapped the other. He knelt as he coaxed the whole garment down her hips, pausing to lave her tattoo.  He resisted the urge to venture between her legs, enjoying the way she bucked her hips towards the heat of his mouth as it pressed against her low belly.

“Patience,” he said, nipping the sensitive skin.

She settled slightly at that, and Ro ran his hands up her torso with with deliberate slowness, palms skating effortlessly under her lacy bralette and tugging it off in a single, fluid gesture.

He glanced down at her and groaned.

“Fucking Christ.”

Her breasts were flawlessly round and dark enough to suggest she spend a decent amount of time tanning topless, her tight nipples framed by matching diamond studs. He ran a finger over the jewelry, laughing at her shudder of pleasure.

“Are you crazy, Galathynius? You’re a D1 athlete!”

She chuckled.

“I tape them up to play. Why, you don’t like?”

He glanced up to meet her gaze.

“I didn’t say that.”

The truth was they suited her: elegant femininity edged in wildness.

“You approve then.”

He reached down to tease her, brushing a knuckle against her left nipple until it pebbled.

“They’re gorgeous.”

Aelin preened a bit at that.

“Tits this nice deserved a little something extra,” she said with a smirk.

Rowan was inclined to agree.

“These real diamonds, princess?”

“They were a gift from Aedion.”

At this Rowan stiffened, unable to smother the discomfort the idea inspired. Aelin only laughed, catching his face in her hands and kissing him lightly on the lips.

“I’m playing with you, tonto. Obviously he and Galen don’t know about these or they’d hit the roof. Besides,” she said, pert nose wrinkling slightly. “We don’t share things like that with each other. We’re close but...not that close.”

Rowan couldn’t hold back a relieved laugh, which only made Aelin’s grin widen.

“You should have seen the look on your face, though.”

“You’re trouble,” he told her.

“You love it,” she shot back, leaning in so her breasts brushed his chest.

Yeah he fucking did.

Crushing her into another kiss, her massaged her breasts, palms scraping her nipples. When they’d grown hard from his machinations he bent to taste them, loving the feel of her fingers as they wound into his hair and tugged.

“Take off your clothes already,” she said, breathless. “I want to know if your dick is as big as it feels.”

He grabbed her wrist and guided it between his legs.

“See for yourself.”

Deft as a snake, she had a hand down the front of boxer briefs, stroking him twice with a firm grip.

He planted a hand on the wall beside her head, breathing through his nose as he bowed into her wicked touch.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his chinos off his carved waist until they hung low on his hips.

“You.”

“What about me?”

He bent to kiss her deeply again. God, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on.

“About what you’d look like on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

She gave a sensuous chuckle.

“Dream on, querido. ”

He only grinned in response.

“No one likes a liar, Galathynius.”

“What reason would I have to ever suck you off?”

“The same reason you’d let me tie you up: you want to know what it’s like to let someone else be in control.”

“I never said I wanted to be tied up,” she said, voice turning to a groan as he pushed her underwear aside to dip two fingers inside of her.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, holding up his fingers so they glistened in the moonlight pouring in from the open balcony doors. “You’re soaked.”

She didn’t respond, merely leaned forward to licked the offending digits clean in a way that told him that not only did she want to suck his dick, she was going to be excellent at it.

He hardened at the thought, even as he forced a calming breath. If this was his only chance with her, he intended to savor every second.

He wanted tears— actual tears—of pleasure from her. He wanted to hear her beg. And not just some breathy “ please, more ” bullshit, either. He wanted to her to plead—for him, for release, for anything and everything he was willing to give her.

He wanted all of it and more, but to have it, he needed to be patient with her. It meant going slow, and sending her off the edge several times before he ever slipped inside of her.

Gently collaring her throat, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before easing her off the wall and into the waiting bedroom.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her.

She smirked, eyes flashing.

“Bet you say that to all the girls you fuck.”

“I’ve never fucked a woman as beautiful as you.”

It was out before he could stop it, and he had to fend off the the twinge of guilt it produced. Still, he couldn’t regret saying it, because it was true; Aelin was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

Aelin, seeming abashed by this declaration, responding by coaxing Rowan’s buttoned shirt open and over his shoulders. Chest to bare chest, her next kiss was soft and drugging.

“You’re...not ugly, either,” she said at last.

“Not ugly?” He repeated with a laugh.

“You’re...” she trailed off as he kissed her neck.

“I’m...?”

“Gorgeous,” she said finally. “But I think you already knew that.”

“Maybe, but it hits different from you.”

Aelin seemed pleased by that, and she rewarded him by dipping her hand into his unbuckled pants again and fisting him.

“I was also right; you’re enormous.”

Grabbing her wrist, he pinned it to the wall and put his hand between her legs instead.

“And I bet you’re tight,” he said, drawing lazy circles with his thumb that had her back arching.

“Are we going to fit?” She teased, but he could hear the concern underneath that she couldn’t quite hide.

The idea that some douchebag had pushed into her before she was totally ready—it made Rowan’s skin prickle in irritation.

He caught her jaw.

“After I’m done playing with you, Aelin, you’re going to be so wet that you’ll feel like my cock was made to fit inside you.”

She moaned.

“If you’re half as good as sex as you are dirty talk, I think this might be the best night of my life.”

Rowan was counting on it. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact it was shaping up to be one of the best nights of his as well. And not just because of the sex, though Rowan couldn’t deal with that right now.

“I bet you taste good too,” he said, grinding against her and living for her answering moan. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” she said, and he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy at the thought of another guy’s mouth on her.

Her pussy was his, at least for tonight. He intended to make sure she never forgot how it felt to have him between her thighs.

Kneeling at her feet, he peeled her thong down her lean legs. He let his eyes drag up slowly, taking his time admiring the muscles in her quads before his gaze settled between her legs.

She was already wet, her thighs glistening with arousal. He imagined what they would look like dripping with his come instead. The idea had masculine satisfaction thrumming through him, even knowing it was a fantasy he couldn’t indulge. He wouldn’t put her in a vulnerable position by not wearing a condom.  Pressing a mockingly chaste kiss on her low belly, he rose to his feet.

“Get on the bed,” he said, guiding her hips towards the waiting mattress.

“Get naked first,” she countered, tracing the band of his Adonis belt before tugging him towards her by the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

He didn’t stop her as she skated her hands down the back to squeeze his ass before pushing them off his hips.

His dick was already rock hard, and it pressed between them. She leaned up to kiss him again before sinking down to sit on the bed. The movement bought her eye-level with his erection, and gripping him in a fist, she put her mouth on him.

He swore as she laved his length, cock twitching as she traced a ridge of vein with her  tongue. Threading a gentle hand into her hair, he took a step back, coaxing her off the bed and onto her knees. When she looked up at him, blue eyes overcome with want, he had to fight the urge to come right then.

Despite her earlier declarations, Aelin sucked him off like both of their lives depended on it, and Rowan could only hang on and enjoy the ride as her tongue worked miracles on his shaft and her hands found every pleasure point he craved.

He swore again as she massaged his stones before kneading the sensitive swath of skin behind them. As her touch grew more deliberate, he debated telling her she could push inside him before deciding it wasn’t exactly fodder for a one-night stand.

However, when her fingers trailed back to brush the tight ring of muscle, he couldn’t fight a groan.

“Yes?” She asked, keeping her touch light.

“Go ahead,” he said, breathless.

He didn’t think he’d never been so close to losing it as he was the moment she used her own wetness to coat her fingers before carefully teasing two inside of him.

His tattooed hand tightened in her hair, but he forced himself to otherwise remain still, to let her set the pace.

“Fuck, Aelin.”

Crooking her fingers to hit that perfect internal spot, she put her mouth on him again. Between her fingers and her tongue, he only lasted ten more strokes before he came hard .

Holy shit.

Rowan was no stranger to anything they’d just done, but he was fairly sure that was the best blowjob he’d ever had.

“As good as your imagined?” Aelin said with a smirk.

“Better,” Rowan said. “Way better. My turn.”

Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed before grabbing her ankle and dragging her towards him so her legs hung off the edge.

Wasting no time, he broke her legs apart and put his mouth right where he knew she needed him, sucking hard. However, he didn’t stay there for long, ignoring her attempts to manuever his mouth into position as he teased her.

“Rowan,” she choked. “You’re killing me.”

In answer he swirled his tongue around her bundle of nerves before alighting elsewhere.

“Rowan,” Aelin said.

He sucked on her this time, loving how she rocked her hips up to fuck his face. Still, he didn’t linger long enough for her release to find her.

“I’m going to kill—“

He glanced up at her, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of her hip as she watched him.

“Beg me, Aelin,” he told her. “Beg me and I’ll give you an orgasm to make you cry.”

He laced her once, and she bucked.

“I don’t beg,” she said, even as he felt her contract once against his tongue.

The idea was turning her on.

“You haven’t begged before,” he corrected. “It doesn’t mean you won’t for me.”

At this he slid a finger inside of her, finding the right spot and applying pressure.

“Oh god,” she breathed. “More.”

Rowan pulled the finger out in response.

Aelin paused, heaving slightly as she considered before breathing, “Please, Ro.”

“Please what?”

“Please, give me what I want. I’m...begging you.”

Rowan slid two fingers inside of her, grinning.

“Really, this is your begging? Pathetic.”

“Harder.”

“Harder?”

He increased his speed, knowing she was right on the edge of where she needed to be. Still, he didn’t cross that line.

“Fuck,” Aelin said, voice almost a whine. “Rowan, I’m right there—just make me come.”

“If I do, will you beg me for my cock next?”

“I will give you anything you want,” she said. “Just...” she exhaled again. “Please.”

He bowed his head between her legs again, pumping his fingers as he tongued the spot he knew would set her off.

Driven the brink by all his edging, her climax seemed to shudder through her, muscles in her stomach flexing as she contracted against his mouth. He was careful to keep his touch feather-light as the orgasm crested and ebbed, knowing her body was too sensitive to be properly played with yet.

“Oh god,” she breathed, body still trembling slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that strong before. What did you do to me, Whitethorn?”

He crawled up to meet her, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her head before he kissed her.

“Showed you what you’ve been missing, apparently.”

She arched her hips up to meet his, the contact making him harden again.

“Aelin,” he breathed, using both palms to scrape her sweaty hair from her face.

“Kiss me,” she said softly, gaze so sincere he had to close his eyes to avoid being overcome.

He did as she asked, keeping his touch gentle in an effort to to convey what he couldn’t bear to voice out loud: that this was more than just meaningless sex.

“I want you inside of me,” she said.

He rotated his hips against hers, cock brushing against her in a way that made her cry out softly.

“I need to grab a condom,” he said into her ear. “Don’t move.”

“And what if I do?”

He bent to kiss her deeply.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Rowan smiled, rising from the bed to grab a condom from his wallet before crossing to the window. He deftly unknotted the silk tie which had been used to hold back the curtains and holding it up for her to see.

Aelin expelled a noise of pleasure so finely edged it was almost a whine. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her arms above her head in invitation, eyes hooded as she watched him approach.

Sliding over her, he slipped the length of silk around her wrists before synching it to the  headboard.

Aelin tugged I’m experimentation.

“Too tight?”

“No,” she said.

Rowan gently collared her throat as he bent to kiss her.

“Good girl.”

Rowan drew a finger down Aelin’s torso, circling her tight nipples before tracing her navel and venturing between her legs.

“I’m going to have to make this count,” he said, sliding two fingers into her again even as he held up the condom. “I only have one of these.”

“I have some in my suitcase,” she said. “Lucky for you, I think they’re magnums. Dream big, and all that.”

He grinned, making her laugh.

“Never hurts to be prepared,” she said.

“No it most certainly doesn’t,” he agreed, putting his mouth on her again.

She bucked off the bed and he used his hands to keep her hips pinned as she twisted against her restraints.

“If only I had a spreader bar,” he told her. “I would really have you at my mercy.”

“I’m at your mercy now,” she said. “Take me.”

That, Rowan could not resist.

Quickening the pace of his fingers, he concentrated on her clit until she shattered again. Only when she’d settled back on to the bed, legs quaking slightly, did he tear open the wrapper of the condom, sheathing himself with a practiced hand.

“You’re probably going to be extra tight from the orgasms,” he told her. “So I’m going to go slow at first.”

She nodded, and he kissed her again before grabbing his shaft and sliding a few inches into her.

“Tight” had perhaps been an understatement. The pressure of her was mind-numbing, spine-tingling bliss. Still, he forced himself to pause and take in her expression.

Her brows were synched, breath ragged. He bent to kiss the tightened corners of her eyes before brushing his lips to hers.

“Talk to me, gorgeous,” he breathed. “How are you doing?”

“You’re—big,” she said, voice still tense. “I’m just trying to adjust.”

“Relax,” he coached, petting a hand down the tense muscles in her stomach. “Breathe, Aelin.”

At this she let out a shuddering exhale, even mewing a little as he reached down to play with her.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, working her with the pad of his thumb. “Let me in.”

With that the some of the tenseness in her body loosened, and she moaned. He pushed in farther, kissing her deeply until she was forced to take another calming exhale.

When he shifted her hips and pulled her the rest of the way onto his shaft, she melted. He couldn’t hold back his groan of pleasure as he sank in effortlessly to the hilt, his stones brushing her soft ass.

“Fuck,” she said. “Why does that feel so good?”

He rose onto his knees, tilting her hips up on the process. She groaned.

“Because I bet no one’s hit this spot with you before,” he said.

Rearing back slightly, he thrust into her with delicious intent.

She bit her lip.

“Yours is deep,” he said.

Her answering laugh was husky.

“Are you trying to suggest you’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had?”

He smirked, unable to deny the smug masculine satisfaction that slithered through him at the thought.

“You said it, not me.”

He pulled back and thrust into her a second time. At this she squirmed a little, eyes firmly shut again.

“Yes, Aelin?” He said, repeating the gesture a third time.

She wiggled, trying to get more friction.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh god, yes.”

With that he increased his pace, loving the obscene sound their bodies made as they came together. Christ, had it ever felt this good?

He rode her hard but tried to maintain a pace that wouldn’t cause her an unpleasant amount of friction. From her moans, he was doing a better than alright job.

Rowan drank her in as she writhed beneath him, her body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, her small breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts.

When he reached a hand between her legs to play with her again, she swore, tightening around him.

“I’m so close.”

“Say my name," he said, left hand wrapping around the headboard for better leverage as he drove into her with increased force. “I want to hear you say my name when you come, Aelin.”

She surged forward, tongue tangled with his in a desperate kiss.

"Ro," she breathed. “Rowan.”

Rowan had to fend off a strangled moan at the reverence in her voice.

When he'd made the demand, he'd imagined her screaming it the way other women had, like it was a triumph that needed to be heralded. But hearing it whispered, as if it were a secret meant only for him, had been so much more powerful.

He instantly knew why: because this was so much more than mindless sex.

He felt the exact moment she came apart around him, loving the pressure as she squeezed him in a vice. Deftly he untied her bound hands, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as he kissed her.

He couldn’t hold back the pleasured groan which escaped as he found his own climax, hips nestled to hers as he drove in deep a final time.

God, what he wouldn’t give to come inside this girl for real. It was a selfish thought, but one Ro couldn’t immediately shake. He didn’t often think about babies of his own, but something about Aelin Galathynius made him want to have a million.

He shook his head slightly, desperate to rid himself of the notion of having children with a woman he’d just met. He kissed her instead, using the feeling of her lips against him to ground him more fully into reality.

When he felt he’d mastered himself, he pulled back to meet Aelin’s eye, mildly horrified to find that hers were glassy. Despite his earlier declaration about wanting to have her in tears, actually seeing them in her eyes had his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Oh god, you’re crying,” he blurted, quickly pulling out of her and touching her cheek. “Aelin, why are you crying?”

At this she snorted, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“Because that so intense I almost don’t know what to do with myself,” she admitted. “And when I get overwhelmed I always end up crying.”

He frowned, brushing her petal-soft cheek again.

“Good overwhelmed or bad?”

“Good,” she said. “Definitely good. That was just so—“ she blew out a shaky inhale, another tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “I came so hard I think my brain just stalled for a second.”

He couldn’t help but grin, even as he gently brushed the moisture from her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever broken someone’s brain before,” he said. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

She laughed, the sound easier this time.

“Don’t be annoying,” she said. “You know how good you are.”

“What can I say? You inspire greatness in me, Galathynius.”

He bent to gently kiss her, his finger drawing a an ever-tightening circle around one erect nipple. Her back arched slightly at his featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across her small breasts.

“You are so gorgeously responsive,” he told her, bending to tug the opposite nipple with his teeth. “It’s like your whole body is a hot spot. It makes it impossible to stop touching you. I could seriously play with you all night.”

“It’s not usually like this,” Aelin admitted after a beat, threading her hand into his hair. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, more candid. “Most the time I’m too in my head, and it makes it hard to get turned on enough to let go.”

“What made tonight different?” Rowan asked, brushing the hair out her face.

He was fairly sure he already knew, but he needed to hear her say it, to take ownership of the feeling.

“I feel safe with you,” she said. “I don’t know why—you’re basically still a stranger—but I do.”

Rowan smiled, kissing her more deeply this time.

“I told you that you’d let go for me,” he breathed against her lips. “How did it feel, gorgeous?”

“Incredible,” she said, shifting her hips in search of friction as he settled more fully on top of her again. “I didn’t want it to end.”

Deftly, Rowan peeled off the condom and threw it into the trash.

“Who said it had to?” He asked grabbing her hips and rotating so he was on his back, Aelin nestled in his lap. “That was just round one.”

In response, She reached for his shaft to begin getting him hard, but he caught her wrist instead.

“It’s a marathon, Galathynius, not sprint,” he said, flipping her hand in his so he could kiss her palm. “And your body’s not ready for me to be inside you again yet.”

Aelin seemed a bit flustered at that, which left Rowan feeling torn. On the one hand, he hating thinking he’d embarrassed her or made her uncomfortable. On the other, the idea that he has the ability to make swaggering, sensuous Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius bashful filled him with deep-seated satisfaction.

Seeming to read the intention in his gaze, she bent to kiss him, whispering, “you don’t have to.”

He pushed her back gently so he could look into her face.

“Don’t have to what?”

“Go down on me again. I know most guys don’t like to do it again once they’ve—“

“That’s amateur hour,” Rowan said, tone sharper than he’d meant it to be. “Whichever pin-headed prick told you that is a loser.”

She laughed, relaxing a little. At seeing this, Rowan settled more fully on his back, hands braced on her hips.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough with desire.

He was rewarded with a pretty blush.

“I’ve never...done it like that,” she admitted.

He smirked.

“Then I’m about to give you an important lesson in pleasure. Come here.”

Rising onto her knees, Aelin rose over Rowan until she was mere inches from his face.

“I feel like I’m going to suffocate you!” She said with a sheepish laugh.

“Then I’ll die the luckiest man on earth,” he said, gripping her ass. “Hold onto the headboard.”

She did, and he lifted his head just enough that the tip of his tongue brushed the most sensitive part of her.

Her whole body tightened in pleasure.

“Do that again,” she said, sounding more her confident self now.

“No,” he told her. “This position is about you being in control.  I don’t give you pleasure; you take it.”

When she still didn’t move, he added, “this should be no problem for an imperious little thing like you.”

He knew goading her would do the trick, and after a moment she relaxed her hips, body sinking down to meet his waiting mouth. He couldn’t stifle a groan as she rocked her hips against him in experimentation. Seeing Aelin in is position, vulnerable but in control, was hotter than her could have possibly imagined.

Rowan flicked his tongue against her and she swore.

“That feels good,” she breathed, rocking forward against his mouth again. “Really good.”

His hands on the back of her thighs, he urged her hips forward, grazing her with his teeth before sucking hard.

This proved to be her unleashing.

Using the headboard for leverage, she began swishing her lips in a rhythmic motion, panting softly through her teeth as she worked herself up to climax.

He kneaded the soft flesh of her backside while she rocked against him, trying not to imagine what it would be like to slide his cock into her tight little ass. He had no idea if she was into that sort of thing nor any desire to pressure her into finding out, but the way she rocked back into his hands—as if urging them to explore—was enough to make him curious.

Hands on her waist, he tilted her pelvis towards him slightly, waiting to see how she’d react. In response she scooted higher on his body, her knees practically touching to the headboard. In this new position, there was no part of her he couldn’t access, and when she leaned forward, the invitation was clear.

Using his hands to open her legs more fully for him, he brushed his mouth against an intimate spot that—judging by her deep moan—no one had even touched before. When he repeated the gesture and she didn’t tense or pull away, he split legs even wider and circled the tight ring of muscle at the back with his tongue.

“Fuck,” she said, voice devolving into a string of slurred Spanish. “Rowan.”

Rowan worked her in broader strokes, his free hand coming up to play with her clit. When he slipped a finger inside of her he could tell she was getting close. Not wanting to claim the victory of her orgasm with only his fingers, he pulled her hips down so his tongue could replace his hand.

Far bolder now that she’d been when they’d started, Aelin followed his lead. Her fingers twined in his hair as she rocked against him hard, and Rowan was happy enough to sit back and watch as she took her pleasure like he’d instructed.

Between the rimjob and the edging, Aelin’s orgasm—when it hit—seemed to last a blissful eternity. She was trembling slightly as she collapsed beside him, eyes still closed.

“That was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he said.

He gently cupped between her legs, careful not to apply too much pressure when she was still so sensitive.

“You’re telling me that?” she said with a laugh. “I’ve done it that to other people, obviously, but I’ve never let anyone—“ she broke off with another laugh. “Apparently I’ve been missing out.”

Rowan smirked, if only to hide the twinging realization that after tonight, it would someone else making her feel good, not him.

“I hope I didn’t set an impossible standard,” he said dryly.

“Maybe not yet,” she said, eyes blazing with want. “But you’re well in your way, and the night is still young.”

She let her azure gaze snake down his body with exaggerated slowness. By the time it reached his cock, he was granite-hard.

“Where are the rest of the condoms?” he asked.

If he wasn’t inside of her in the next minute, he might actually lose his mind.

“Bathroom,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Rowan didn’t have time for that. He rose from the bed to follow her into the lavish en-suite. Normally he might of gawked a little at the opulence—the marble countertops, the sunken tub—but his entire focus was on Aelin. The best he could do was shift the lens to the things in her periphery. Everything else was a blur.

She was just straightening—foil packet in hand—as he entered, and he didn’t even give her a chance speak before her grabbed her around the waist, spinning her so his chest was pressed into her back.

Taking the condom, he ripped open the package and slid it on with one hand while his other moved between her legs to ensure she was ready for him.

“How do you feel?” He asked. “Do you need me to—“

“Whitethorn, if I was any wetter I’d be Nile. Get inside me already.”

It was all the permission Rowan needed. Hand on her back, he coaxed her to bend, using his legs to push hers wider as he did. She yelped softly as her bare breasts made contact with the cold marble, and he ran a hand over the curve of her hip to settle her before sliding to the hilt in single stroke.

It felt better, even, than it had the first time. She clenched around the intrusion of him even as she moaned, and he only managed to wait a beat before grabbing her hips and setting a blistering pace.

He glanced in the mirror and their gazes caught in the reflection, her desire molten.

Wanting more, he coaxed her up until her torso lifted from the counter.

Yes, he thought with greedy satisfaction. This.

This was what he wanted. Her firm tits bouncing with each hard thrust, her hips rocking back and forth, and her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Gently collaring her throat with his hand, he whispered in her ear.

“Touch yourself for me.”

She did, canting her hips forward for increased friction as she moaned.

As she increased the speed with her hand, Rowan increased his, fucking her hard through her orgasm as she tightened around him.

She collapsed against the counter as he pulled her hips flush to his for one final thrust before coming undone.

She wobbled when he stepped back to pull off the condom, and he deftly caught her around the waist before she melted to the floor like a newborn fawn.

“Easy,” he said, coaxing her into his arms.

She laid her head on his shoulder.

“I think your dick has mystical powers,” she said. “Because that was insane.”

Rowan chuckled, carrying her to the bed and laying her down.

“There’s a Harry Potter joke in there somewhere,” he said, brushing some hair off her sweaty cheek as her eyelids drooped. “I’m just too lazy to find it.”

“Harry Potter references,” she said, already half-asleep. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

She was out before he could even respond, but he did anyway, lips to her temple as he whispered, “I wish I could.”

XX

Ro woke up at sunrise the next morning, Aelin still fast asleep beside him. Not quite in his arms, but still close enough that he could feel her warmth. Christ, she smelled incredible. Like lemon and coconut.

He propped his head on a chin, admiring the way the dawn light set her skin and hair to glowing. She looked like a fallen star.

Rowan’s heart ached a bit as he studied her, trying to memorize every detail, knowing that their time together was quickly running out. Originally, he’d only planned to stay the night, promising himself that as soon as the dark was gone, he would be, too.

In the light of day, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Perhaps it was only asking for more trouble, but Rowan wanted to stay at least for the morning.

He could bring her coffee from that shop Cash loved; if Ro remembered correctly, it wasn’t far from here. He could go get it while she was still sleeping, and make her breakfast when she woke up.

He wouldn’t stay all day, he promised himself, just long enough that she knew she wasn’t some meaningless screw he’d fucked and then chucked. Surely she deserved that much, at least.

Unable to resist, he ran a hand down the silky mane of her hair, slightly tangled from their numerous romps the night before, before rising from the bed as quietly and creeping towards the bedroom door. He found his boxers briefs and shorts easily enough. He just needed to find his—

“Leaving so soon?”

He turned to find Aelin sitting up in the bed, that signature smirk painted on her pouty mouth. She hadn’t bothered to pull up the sheet to cover herself, and her breasts were fully visible, the studs in them winking in the crepuscular light pouring in from the window.

“Only to get some coffee,” he said, loving the way the tension which had limned her muscles disappeared. She’d been displeased with the idea of him leaving, even if she hadn’t wanted to show it.

Her next smile was far easier.

“I have coffee here,” she said.

“Not like this you don’t,” he said with a grin. “There is no coffee on earth better than the beans for the Kona Mountains.”

Her expression grew feline.

“You dare say such things to a Cuban?” She said. “If Galen were here, he’d have you tarred and feathered.”

Rowan recalled the coffee he’d had on a trip to Havana during the short period travel when from the US to Cuba had been permitted. She wasn’t wrong; it had been fucking delicious. Still, he wasn’t going to give up that easy.

“That’s more like espresso; not the same as having a full mug with you while you watch the sun rise.”

“The sun’s already risen,” Aelin said with a smile. “And coffee should be strong and decadent, and that’s what a cortadito is. You can keep your vat of hot bean water; a little is all you need. Just enough to whet the appetite.”

Rowan couldn’t help but grin.

“Awfully set in your ways for a person who’s so young.”

“I’m only five years younger than you,” Aelin pointed out. “And I didn’t hear any complaints from you last night.”

“That’s because I have none,” Rowan admitted. “You’re—“

He broke off, not wanting to embarass himself with verbose declarations now that they were both stone sober.

“I’m—“ Aelin prompted, standing from the bed. She was still naked as they day she was born, and it was an effort not to admire her.

“You know what you are,” Rowan said.

“I do,” Aelin agreed, slinking forward and draping her arms over Rowan’s shoulders. “But it hits different coming from you.”

It was the same thing he’d told her the night before, and he decided to indulge her the way she had him.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his hand slipping around her bare waist to tug her into him.

He kissed her softly, and he could feel her answering smile against his lips.

“Yes, I am,” she said, and he couldn’t help it.

He laughed, lifting her off her feet and heading towards the bed with her still in his arms. When he was close enough he tossed her onto the wrinkled nest of sheets and pillows before crawling over her.

“What am I going to do with you, Galathynius?”

She laughed as he playfully nuzzled her neck.

“Feed me? I’m starving after your thorough ravishing last night.”

“I think I can do that,” he said, bending to kiss her.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to get up right away. Instead he rolled onto his side so he was facing her, trying not to preen as she traced a whorl of his tattoo.

“We never talked about these last night,” she said, her featherlight touch making goosebumps appear on his skin.   “They’re...Hawaiian?”

“Māori,” Rowan said. “I grew up on Maui, but my family is originally from farming town near Auckland.”

Aelin’s eyes glittered with interest.

“Have you even been there?”

“To New Zealand?” Rowan shrugged. “We used to go every few years while my grandparents were still alive. At the time it seemed boring. Now I’m glad we got the opportunity.”

Aelin nodded, still tracing his tattoos. She’d moved from his shoulder to his chest, fingers trailing closer and closer to his heart. To—

“And this one?” Aelin said. “It doesn’t look Māori.”

Rowan’s throat ached a bit as she ran the tips of her fingers over the letters at the very center of the massive design, directly above his heart.

Λυρία

“It’s Greek,” he explained.

She glanced up at him, gaze full of emotion as she said quietly, “It looks like a name.”

He nodded, throat growing tight.

“Lyria.”

Aelin didn’t push for clarification, but after a beat Rowan found himself speaking anyway.

“She’s my—she was my—“

When he broke off, Aelin only nodded.

“What happened?”

“Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. It was stage four by the time they caught it. She was gone within six months of her diagnosis.”

Aelin reached up to gently cup Rowan’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

He’d had people apologize to him a thousand times for Lyria’s untimely death, but something in Aelin’s tone was different. It was sympathetic but also...understanding, somehow.

“Have you ever lost someone you thought would be in your life forever?”

Aelin considered this before flipping her wrist and extending  it. There, inked in neat script, were three small letters Rowan hadn’t noticed before.

S-a-m

“We were high school sweethearts and went to UT together,” she explained. “My sophomore year we lived in an apartment together in West Campus, but we’d started to talk about moving after there had been a series of unsolved rapes in the neighborhood. We were on the first floor and Sam was worried about me being there when he was on the road for baseball season. The night I finally agreed we could start looking for another place, there was a break-in.”

She paused, brows furrowed as she continued to study the tattoo.

“The guy had a gun, and told Sam that if he cooperated it would be over quickly and neither of us would get hurt. But Sam refused, and he fought the guy off while I called the cops. He got shot while they were struggling with the gun, and by the time the paramedics got there it was too late.”

“Aelin, I...” Rowan paused, not wanting to saying the wrong thing. “That must have been awful. I’m so sorry.”

Aelin nodded, rubbing the tattoo with her thumb.

“Me too,” she said. “I miss him a lot.”

That, Rowan certainly understood. There wasn’t a day that went by that Rowan didn’t miss Lyria.

“Did they ever catch the perp?”

“Yeah, the guy’s gloves came off in the struggle and he ended up leaving prints. Cairn Macgory. Turned out he was a law student, top honors, no criminal record. The only reason they had his fingerprints was because of his application to take the bar. He was going to be a family law attorney. He already had a job lined up after school.”

“I hope he rots in hell,” Rowan said honestly, hating the haunted look that had crept into Aelin’s eyes.

“He’s honestly just lucky the cops got to him first,” she said. “My dad was ready to have him black-bagged back to Cuba and cut into little pieces.”

“I’m sort of sorry he didn’t,” Rowan admitted, and this—unexpectedly—made Aelin laugh.

“Aren’t you a cop? I thought you’d be all gung-ho for law and order.”

“Even cops can want revenge.”

Some of Aelin’s mirth faded at this, and she looked up to study him. It was an odd feeling to be so exposed, but Rowan found he didn’t mind it coming from Aelin. After a moment she relented, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Sorry, that was sort of heavy for a one-night stand.”

Rowan strung an arm around her sturdy shoulders as he ignored the twinge in his gut.

A one-night stand.

He’d never stayed the morning with his previous one-night stands, and he’d certainly never told any of them about Lyria, so how could that be what this was?

Before he could damn the consequences and ask Aelin about it, she slipped from his embrace, grinning at him over a shoulder.

“Can I make you a cortadito, or have I scared you off?”

He grabbed her hand to pull her back.

“I’ll have coffee,” he told her rising onto his knees and she sank back onto the bed half-way. “And after that I’ll take you to breakfast.”

“You’re friends won’t be missing you?

Rowan traced her hipbones with this thumbs, everything he’d done to her the previous evening flooding back.

“They’re adults,” he said breezily, leaning forward to kiss the soft skin between her breasts. “They’ll be fine.”

Aelin drove a hand into his hair, her grip light and playful.

“You phones been blowing up for 20 minutes,” she pointed out.

“That’s just Cash being nosy.”

“He’s not dating anyone?”

“Not that I know of,” Rowan admitted setting back onto the bed and tugging her casually into his lap. “But Cash has always been full of secrets; it’s part of his charm.”

“What about the other two?” She asked. “The gorgeous one and the grouch.”

“Fenrys is more a serial dater,” Rowan said. “Mostly because his taste in men is garbage. He always falls for the haole fuckboys  then cries when they turn out to be assholes.”

“Haole?” Aelin said.

“Non-Polynesians, technically,” Rowan explained. “But most of the time Hawaiians just use it to mean—“

“Gringos,” Aelin said, grinning. “They do love to make trouble, don’t they?”

Rowan had to laugh at this.

“Fen would certainly say so.”

Aelin nodded, laughing as well.

“So that just leaves—”

“Lorcan,” Rowan said. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

“Aedion said he played him in Volleyfest last year in Miami. Why didn’t y’all compete in the men’s division together?”

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s...complicated.”

“I assume this has to do with your ex?”

“She invited me to play in with her. Lor wasn’t even supposed to be here this weekend. He decided to surprise me last minute.”

“So there is a gooey center underneath the scowl!” Aelin said.

“To be honest, I think Lor is probably the most sensitive and caring of all four of us. He just—isn’t good at emoting. He’s also a fastidious believer in ‘boys night’, though I think that’s just because he’s not good at chatting women up.”

“Bet he wasn’t too thrilled with me last night then, huh?”

“He’ll get over it. And he still pulls like crazy, even with his terrible flirting. Usually women take one look at him and decide they don’t even care if he can talk at all.”

Aelin laughed.

“I figured as much,” she said, rising from the bed again. “I have a lot of follow-up questions, but I need a shower before we go. Care to join me?”

She was already halfway to the open bathroom door when Rowan found his feet again, and wasting no time, he quickly swept her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

After they spent forty-fives minutes fooling around in the shower and another hour having sex against nearly every available surface in the suite, breakfast—inevitably—turned to lunch.

After lunch, they’d joined a pick-up “king of the beach” doubles tournament some of the previous day’s competitors had set up. They’d made such a good team that it was nearly evening by the time they lost a match and were finally bumped off the champion court.

Starving from the exertion, they’d gone back to the suite to shower before leaving again to go to dinner. Dinner had turned into cocktails on the beach, which had turned into beers  drinks at Bar 35 then tequila shots at Smith & Kings. The evening that followed was a blur of pleasure, as was the following morning, which they spend in bed together, naked and sweaty.

At every turn Rowan told himself he needed to leave, need to start distancing himself from Aelin so he could start trying to forget her. However, he’d known from the start that it had been a fools errand.

There was no forgetting a girl like Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. Her vivacity, her humor, her raw sexual charisma—Rowan had never met anyone like her, and he doubted he ever would again.

So how the fuck was he supposed to just let her go? It was a thought that plagued him all the way to the airport on the afternoon Aelin was due to fly back to the mainland. He’d agreed to accompany her for a last drink before her flight departed, wanting to wring every last second he could out of the weekend.

It was—he knew—only delaying the inevitable by continually putting off their goodbyes, but Ro couldn’t help it. Aelin was like the sun—vibrant and essential—and Rowan had found himself in her orbit.

Harsh realities aside, it was a painfully lovely place to be.

Ro definitely felt a shift in the vibe as he paid their tab and they headed towards the security gate. Things had gone from easy and playful to quiet and subdued, Aelin’s usual flair dimming as she continually adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

Rowan searched and searched for the words he would say to her when they were finally forced to part. They’d never even exchanged numbers; perhaps he could ask for hers and offer to call her if he was ever in Austin?

It seems so stilted and formal after everything they’d shared this weekend. He’d been inside of her, for Christ’s sake. In fact, they’d had so much sex that they’d had to buy more condoms. And she’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, and stayed there until they’d woken up this morning. That was worth more than some vague promise to “look her up” if he even came to Texas.

Still, Ro was burning daylight and he knew it. The security gate was visible now, and though they’d both seemed to slow their pace in an effort to delay the inevitable, it was approaching just the same. Finally they reached the short queue where agents were checking boarding passes and travelers were taking off their shoes and belts.

Aelin was busy on her phone as they slowed to a stop, almost as if she were avoiding looking at him.

“My cousins are already at the gate,” she said by way of explanation. “They said boarding is starting in twenty minutes.”

Rowan glanced at the security line then his watch.

“You’ve got time; things seem to be moving pretty fast.”

Aelin looked over at the line as well. Finally she dragged her azure eyes back to him, the sheer force of her gaze enough to stun him stupid. She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. He had nothing, though.

“Well,” she said finally, a small, tense smile playing around her lips.  “I would offer to shake your hand and say ‘it was nice to meet you’, but given the fact we’ve seen each other naked, I think I’ll spare us both the indignity.”

Rowan forced a laugh, even as a pit began forming in his stomach. Shit, should he give her a hug, offer to give her—

“Goodbye, Rowan,” she said, leaning up to brush a kiss just to the right of his mouth. “It’s been—“ she clearly her throat, glancing away for a second. “I had an amazing weekend.”

“Congratulations again,” he found himself saying. “For making the AVP tour. You deserve it.”

Jesus Fucking Christ, was that really the best he could do? Maybe Fen was right, and he was destined to die alone.

Aelin’s grin didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Like I said, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Happy to help,” he forced out. “Have a safe flight, Aelin.”

She smiled, the solemnity in her eyes now limning her face as well.

“I put my number in your phone,” she said, beginning to walk backwards towards the TSA podium. “Call me if you’re ever in Austin.”

With that she turned, and Rowan’s heart was suddenly in his throat, beating two hundred times a minute.

His mind whirred with all the reasons he had to simply let her leave—she still in college, they lived thousands of miles apart, he was a cop in Vice Squad and she was a fucking billionaire—a perceived conflict of interest even if it wasn’t a real one. There was no way it could ever work. It was hopeless, fraught with problems, doomed to fail—

He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he continued to spiral, thoughts growing so jumbled that he could hardly make sense of them anymore. Then a single, cogent thread emerged through the cacaphony and chaos, spooling him back to sanity.

A voice.

“Anóitos,” it teased, the tone soft and airy. “What are you doing? Don’t just stand there!”

Fuck , he missed that voice.

It had been three years since he’d lost Lyria. Three years since he’d heard her laugh, or sing, or speak Greek.

Three long, terrible years since he’d heard her speak at all.

But even after all this time, her voice was crystal clear in his head. He often felt it was her absence—more than her memory—that he’d been left with when she’d died. In that moment, though, it almost felt as if Lyria were standing beside him.

“Go, Ro. I’ll be here.”

Rowan felt a warmth tingle through him, and as he blinked back to reality, Lyria’s voice seemed to fade. But where he’d been buzzing with doubt a moment before, Rowan felt himself suddenly brimming with clarity.

If there was anything he’d learned from Lyria’s sickness, it was that life was simply too short to waste.

Lyria had died with her would-be engagement ring still in tucked away in Ro’s dresser drawer. He hated himself for the cowardice, but when she got sick he couldn’t bring herself to ask her to marry him. He’d wanted to believe that if he put off giving her the ring it might somehow serve as a talisman to keep her from leaving him. It hadn’t though, and instead she’d died never getting to be his wife.

It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make a second time. It was improbable that he and Aelin would get married, but he felt he owed them both the opportunity to find out.

His mind was made up; fuck, he was really doing this.

“Aelin!”

She turned, watching with bemusement as he jogged toward her.

“What—“ she began, but he cut her off.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he blurted.

Aelin sagged a bit, a genuine smile splitting her face.

“Oh thank God,” she said.

Setting down her bag, she started towards him and they met halfway. Rowan cradled her face in his hands and he bent to kiss her. She fisted the fabric of his T-shirt at the hips as the kiss intensified.

“So what does this mean?” Aelin said, slightly breathless as she pulled away. “I’ve never done this before.”

Rare for her to admit she wasn’t perfect at something.

“We’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Rowan said. “My detective’s exam is in two weeks, and then I get a week off. I can come to Austin then?”

She nodded.

“Are we...” Aelin paused, biting her lip. “I mean, do you want to be...”

“Be what?”

“Exclusive?”

“Yes!”

It was out before he could stop it, so he quickly amended, “but only if you—“

“Yes,” she said, smile easier now. “I want that.”

“And are we...using labels?”

She smirked.

“Three days in and you’re already trying to wife me up?”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to flush.

“Okay, no labels—“

“I didn’t say that,” Aelin said quickly. “I just don’t want to jinx a good thing by moving too fast. What if you get back to LA and realize you accidentally got a girlfriend you don’t want? You did drink a lot of tequila this weekend.”

“Never,” he said gently, taking her cheeks in his hands. “Doubt that I want you, Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. And I’m fine to wait, if that’s what you want.”

“But...”

He felt his lips tugging again.

“But it’s doesn’t feel soon, not to me.”

“So....labels?” she said.

“Labels,” he agreed.

She grinned, kissing him again.

“In that case, your girlfriend has to go or she’s going to miss her flight and turn into your live-in girlfriend.”

“Honestly, your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

Aelin scrunched her nose, even as she laughed a bit.

“We agree the third person thing is creepy, right?”

“Yes, thank you God,” Rowan said, laughing with her.

“Dame un beso,” Aelin said, grabbing the collar of his shirt in an effort to tug his lips closer to hers. “Or I really am going to miss this flight.”

Knowing his time was short, Rowan made the kiss count, teasing Aelin with his lips and tongue until she was slightly breathless.

“See you in three weeks,” he said, pulling away.

He set the bag Aelin had abandoned on her shoulder and kissed her quickly again.

“And text me when you get on the plane so I know you’ve made it.”

She grinned, kissing him a final time before jogging off towards security once again.

“Oh and just fair warning,” she said, spinning on a heel to grin at him as she joined the short line. “My cousins are not going to like this. Might want to sleep with one eye open for a while.”

“You tell me this now?”

“Te veo pronto, querido,” she said in response, kissing her hand in farewell before showing the TSA agent her boarding pass and disappearing into the concourse.

He waited several minutes before pulling out his phone to text her. As he did, his phone chirped to signal an incoming text.

Did I mention I also stole your number and put it in my phone? 😈 💋

Troublemaker, he wrote back. Did you make it?

Yes. Wish you were here to join the Mile High Club with me.

Before Rowan could even formulate a response to that, his phone chimed again, this time from a number he didn’t know.

This is Aedion Ashryvver, it said. Treat her right or I’ll break both your kneecaps.

His phone went off a third time, the new text also from an unknown number.

Not just your kneecaps, either.

Galen Ashryvver, if Ro had to guess.

Ignoring Aelin’s cousins, he replied to her instead, saying simply, Seems like good news travels fast

The grey ellipsis pulsed for a moment as Aelin typed.

Aedion said it was their price for letting us stay in the suite alone all weekend. Taking off now. Talk to you soon ✌️ ✈️

Then it was worth it, Rowan sent back. Have a safe flight. Call me when you get stateside.

Aelin sent back a heart, and Rowan had to fight down an annoyingly girlish fluttering in his stomach as he dialed a new number and put the phone to his ear.

It only rang twice before the line clicked.

“He lives!” Cash said in greeting. “Welcome back from the island  of puss—“

“Very funny,” Rowan interjected. “Where are you?”

“Hideaway. Where are you, honeymoon chapel in Vegas?”

Rowan rolled his eyes.

“Ha-ha.”

Cash scoffed.

“Ha-ha, that’s all I get? You’ve been gone for two days, brother! I want details.”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“Just give me a quick teaser: do you have a girlfriend now?”

Rowan growled, making Cash laugh.

“I told you!” He said to someone on his end, presumably Lor or Fen.

“You’re seriously dating her?” Lor demanded a second later. “Like full-blown ‘exclusively-fucking, using-labels’ dating her?”

“Full-blown.”

“I KNEW IT!” Cash called, just as Lor growled, “fuck me, man.”

“You owe me a drink,” Lorcan told Rowan. “I just lost 200 bucks because of you.”

“I’ll buy you a shot of house tequila,” Rowan said, unable to keep in a smile. “Final offer.”

“Hurry up,” was Lorcan’s only response. “Before Kahukore explodes from the anticipation.”

“Getting my popcorn as we speak!” Cash called from the background, and with that Rowan hung up.

A short Uber ride later, Rowan strolled into the Hideaway Inn, his friends wolf-whistling as he approached.

Cash was on his feet first, grabbing Rowan by the shoulders an inspecting him head-to-toe.

“What are you doing?” Rowan said, playfully pushing out of Cash’s grip.

“Just taking you in,” Cash said with a disarming smile. “It feels like it’s been an age since we last saw you!”

Rowan rolled his eyes, and Fen added, “Pretty dark circles you’ve got there, lover boy. Galathynius keep you up all night?”

“I am not answering that,” Rowan said. “Or any questions about what she’s like in bed.”

“Why?” Cash cooed. “Because she’s your girlfriend?”

“You’re both clowns,” Rowan said.

“You’re the one dating a teenager,” Lor said. “So who’s the clown now?”

“She’s 21,” Rowan said. “And green isn’t a good color on your, Salvaterre, so just relax.”

Lorcan smirked.

“Jealous? Of you dating a Amazonian she-devil? I don’t think so.”

“That is exactly what a jealous person would say,” Fen pointed out. “Chin up, Lor, your time will come.”

Lorcan only snarled in response.

“What do we think Salvaterre’s  eventual lady love going to be like?” Cash chimed in. “Betting line’s officially open, gents.”

“Tiny,” Rowan and Fen both said at the same time.

“Fifty bucks says he ends up marrying a girl under 5’4,” Fen added.

“Grow up,” Lor said with an eye roll, though Ro had known him long enough to tell he wasn’t actually bothered by the conversation.

“Make me,” Fen said.

Lor jerked his head the pool table in the back corner.

“I beat you, you owe me fifty bucks and you shut your cakehole.”

“And if I win?” Fen said.

“You won’t, so it doesn’t matter. Let’s do this.”

Lor shot Rowan a quick, conspiratorial nod, and Ro realized Lor had done it on purpose, to give Rowan and Cash a chance to talk.

It was one of the things that Ro loved about Lorcan Salvaterre. He was perceptive in seeing what people needed, and not jealous or petty. Somehow, he’d seemed to sense Rowan’s need to talk to Cash alone, even if Ro himself hadn’t realized it until just now.

He gave Lor a grateful smile, and Lor turned to clap Fen on the back, leading him towards the billiards table in the back.

“So,” Cash said, flagging the bartender down and ordered two beers and two shots of whiskey. “Tell me everything.”

He clicked his glass to Rowan’s in salute and they both tipped the shots back. Rowan winced a bit at the taste before running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts.

He ran Cash quickly through the weekend’s events, skipping over the more X-rated content and ending with his and Aelin’s agreement at the airport.

“Damn,” Cash said when Rowan had finished. “Are you sure this girl isn’t a witch? Because she has you under a spell.”

Rowan laughed.

“She’s—” he began, breaking off with a sheepish laugh. “I really like her, man.”

“You’re smitten,” Cash said with a grin. “Look at you!”

Rowan opened his mouth to deny it before shrugging.

“Being with her feels different somehow. It isn’t just that she’s gorgeous or funny or smart, even though she’s all of those things. It’s more than that.”

Cash considered this, but he didn’t tease the way Ro feared he might. Instead he simply asked, “what of you mean?”

Rowan blew out a breath.

“There’s just something about her that’s almost... familiar . Like I’ve been looking for her my whole life, even without knowing it. I know that sounds crazy, but...”

Rowan shrugged again, tracing the rim of his glass.

“She’s just special.”

Cash’s smiled, a softer thing than his fiendish grin from before.

“I’ve never seen you like this, brother.” He paused, his expression growing more reverent as he added in a softer voice, “Not in a long time, at least.”

They were quiet a moment as they both silently recalled the memories that hung unspoken between them. Cash had been the first important person in his life that Rowan had introduced Lyria to, and over the years, Cash was the one who’d come to know Lyria the best; he’d been her friend in his own right.

He couldn’t see it at the time, but when Ro finally emerged from his own grief over Lyria’s death, it was realize that Cash had been grieving as well; he’d simply put his aside to focus on helping Rowan heal instead. 

It was hard to describe what that sacrifice had meant to Ro; the nice thing about a friendship as deep as theirs was that Rowan didn’t have to explain his gratitude for Cash to understand it. It was implicit in every conversation they ever had about Lyria, even this one.

“You want to know the weirdest part?” Rowan said finally. “When I was watching Aelin walk away, it felt like, I don’t know, like Lyria was there with me. Like she was telling me ‘go get her’.”

Cash smiled, his expression one of admiration tinged in sadness.

“She wanted you to be happy, Ro.”

Rowan nodded, throat tight as he looked into his glass.

“I still miss her, every day. Part of me worries that if things with Aelin ever got serious, I might start missing her less.”

Cash’s answering shrug was sympathetic.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t want to forget her,” Rowan said, marveling that he could admit that fear out loud.

“You won’t,” Cash assured him. “Ever. But you’re allowed to move on, brother; that’s what she wanted for you.”

There was something in his tone, an assurity and a promise, that had Rowan’s mouth going dry. He glanced up to meet Cash’s gaze.

“She told you that?”

Cash nodded once.

“The last time I saw her. She made me promise to look out for you, and to make sure you ended up with the right girl. And honestly?” He said, a smile beginning to grow on his face. “I think you might have just met her. I can’t let you mess that up by overthinking things, for Lyria’s sake as much for your and Aelin’s.”

Rowan felt his lips tugging up.

“You’re going to like her,” he said, and Cash grinned.

“Latin girl who can kick your ass in sports? I love her already.”

Rowan laughed.

“I’m going to Austin after my exam, but she’s planning on coming to LA sometime after that. If you’re free, you could fly out, I have airline miles—“

“I’d love to,” Cash interjected, clapping Ro in the back. “But I’m going to be out of commission for the next few months. I promise I’ll meet her properly soon, though. She seems cool as hell.”

Not to be put off by the diversion regarding Aelin, Rowan frowned, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized his friend’s expression. Cash’s answering smile was cryptic and slightly wild. It was then Ro remembered what Cash had told him when he’d first gotten into town days ago.

“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his silver hair. “I feel like such a dick, you said you had news. I totally forgot, I’m sorry.”

Cash laughed, the sound easy and unburdened.

“You just met the women you’re probably going to marry. I’ll give you a pass.”

Rowan thought to object to the notion he was going to marry Aelin after only three days together, but something told him not to.

“Well tell me now,” Rowan said instead.

His friend’s cryptic smile returned, mischief sparkling in his hazel eyes.

“The only thing worse than having too many secrets,” Cash always said. “Is having none at all.”

Ro had a feeling Cash was about to drop a big one on him right now.

“I’m moving to London.”

“Wait?” Rowan demanded. “Seriously?”

Cash grinned.

“Seriously.”

“Just for a change of pace?”

“Partly,” Cash said with a shrug. “But mostly to be a Master Sommelier.”

Now that, Rowan had not expected. He struggled to pick his jaw off the floor enough to speak.

“Like a wine expert?” He said, stunned. “I thought you didn’t like wine! You always ripped on your uncle for opening Merchant of Vino!”

Cash laughed.

“That’s because it’s a stupid name and Dev’s a hapless businessman.“

Rowan still couldn’t fully master his shock, though it was quickly being subsumed by an overwhelming pride.

“This is amazing, man,” he said, clasping Cash’s shoulder. “When did you decide to do this?”

Cash’s smile had grown slightly sheepish.

“When I first sat for the Level One Sommelier exam three years ago?”

“Three years?” Rowan repeated. “You’ve been sitting on this for three fucking years? Why didn’t you say anything? Every time I asked about your job you brushed me off!”

Cash rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t want to tell you in case it—didn’t pan out.”

“Seems like it’s panning out just fine!” Rowan said with a laugh.

“It’s going alright,” Cash agreed with a laugh. “Considering I passed the theory portion of the Master Sommelier exam. I just have to complete the tasting and I’ll be one of 229 Masters Somms in the world.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rowan blurted. “That’s incredible. How does London fit into all this?”

“If I said the name Sadeghi, would that mean anything to you?”

“Persian billionaires or something?”

Cash nodded.

“The old man is from originally from Tehran, but the family has been in England for ages; they’re real estate royalty in the UK. Sadeghi put his son in charge opening a new hotel and restaurant in London, and I’m going to be the wine manager. Make the lists, relationship build with vineyards, that kind of thing. They’ve already hired a Michelin Star chef from Marrakech, so it’s...a pretty big deal. It’s also a good way to for me to grow my network while I study for the exam. I don’t want to be stuck in the restaurant business forever.”

“Cash,” Rowan said, grinning. “That’s amazing.”

Cash smiled.

“Maybe you and Aelin can come visit once I get settled,” Cash said in deflection, clearly at his limit for discussing himself. “You know, Aelin your girlfriend.”

Rowan had to laugh.

He had a girlfriend.

And—Jesus Christ—Cash was moving to England. It was almost too much good news for a single day.

“I’m happy for you,” he told his friend, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “And you deserve this. You’re going to crush it”

“I hope so,” Cash said. “The pass rate for the tasting portion of the exam is 32%.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Rowan said. “So that number means nothing.”

Cash grinned.

“You flirting with me, Whitethorn?”

“If you’re going to be friends with billionaires, you need to learn how to start taking compliments,” Rowan said with a chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cash said, and Rowan could see the unsaid words shining in his friend’s hazel eyes. “Another drink?”

Cash turned to slip off the stool he’d been perched on, by Rowan caught his arm.

“Cash.”

Cash turned back, expression somewhat bemused. Rowan felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, but he pushed on regardless.

“It’ll be you, you know that right?”

“Be me?” Cash repeated, confused.

“When I get married—whoever I get married to—you’ll be my best man. I couldn’t have it any other way.”

Cash smiled, eyes sparkling. He considered this for a moment before pulling Rowan into a hug, one which Rowan gratefully accepted.

“Love you, brother.”

There were very few people Rowan considered worthy of this type of familial affection, but Cash was certainly one of them.

“I’m not drunk enough for this kind of thing,” Cash said, pulling away. “I’m going to get us another drink.”

Rowan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call just as Cash was sauntering away. He was surprised to find it was Aelin, and concern sluiced through him as he answered the call.

Before he could ask if she was okay, Aelin said, “Stupid flight attendant has been holding out on me. She waited until just now to tell me I could make calls on WiFi.”

Rowan felt amusement tugging at his lips.

“Should I be concerned that you’re calling from altitude? Nothing’s wrong, is there?”

Rowan could practically hear Aelin’s grin through the phone.

“No,” she said breezily “But I realized I never told you about the Cinnabon I had on my way to the gate. I figured I should call and tell you now lest I forget.”

“Oh yeah?” Rowan said.

He couldn’t help it; he was all-out smiling now.

“It was life-changing,” Aelin said.

Rowan glanced up to find Cash joining Fen and Lor at the pool table with a conspiratorial wink. When he mouthed ‘sorry’ and made to rise, Cash waved him off with a smile.

“In that case,” Rowan said, settling back on his stool. “Tell me everything.”

THE END

If you liked this story and want more Rowaelin, check out my Nessian fic In Vino Veritas, set in the same modern au-verse about four years later. If you want a sneak peak at how Lorcan’s romance check out the teaser for F*cking Lawyers, set within the In Vino timeline. ♥️ 

TAGLIST:  @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangiril @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareads @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @keshavomit @stardelia @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt @empress-ofbloodshed @morrigays @theminorfallandthemajorlift @belamoonbeam @moonstoneriver77 @wesupremeginger @scrawlandspirits @garnet-29 @b00kworm @cursebreaker29 @jesstargaryenqueen @feyrethedarklady @officialasianbitch @cridhe-teine @sassyhobbits @musicmaam @januarystears @tottenhamboys20 @shyvioletcat @ifinallygavein @maybekindasortaace

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian!

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Caduceus Clay is finally starting to find his feet in the city, ever since he moved away from the family graveyard. He's opened his own cafe, he's found his own friends, he's found the freedom he's been looking for.

However, with his cafe growing, he's realised he needs an assistant. Fortunately, his friends know someone who would be perfect- Fjord, back in town and looking for a job before he can go out on the ocean again.

And things get complicated from there.

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Caduceus didn’t know how to have friends.

He knew how to have siblings. How to love and hate them with the same ferocity and at the same time, for how they reflected your own flaws back at you and made you laugh so hard you didn’t think your jaw would ever be the same again. He knew how to have parents. To have them hold your face and tell you they loved you so deeply and sincerely you thought your heart might burst and then have them make decisions you couldn’t understand. He knew how to have family.

But Caduceus did not know how to have friends.

That hadn’t worried him too much when he’d first moved out of the grove and into the city. The only thing he’d been concerned with then was getting to be himself. Learning how to be alone, finally of his own free will. Silence by choice.

And he’d managed that. Hours and hours of silence, in the tiny apartment he’d rented and then made even tinier by stuffing it full of plants. And, after he’d eventually figured out how banks worked, silence in the storefront he’d bought, with the sagging roof and the warped flooring and the rats. Hours and hours of silence, broken only by his sawing and hammering and holding long conversations with the rats, promising to drive them up to the woods and find them new nests.

And finally, silence after a long, long day in his cafe, called the Blooming Grove in a fit of questionable humour, the silence that fell after the bell rang out at the retreating back of the last customer, the silence that wasn’t really a silence because the coffee machine would always be humming, the ovens grumbling, the clink of mugs as he washed them one by one, the music he’d play and keep on as he closed up.

But then something happened that surprised Caduceus, as much as his own contentment had.

Friends found him. And they taught him how it was done.

“That’s the third yawn you’ve stifled behind a mug today, Caduceus.”

Caleb had a habit of stating his observations aloud, often not realising what he was observing was something another person was trying to hide. It was endearing in its way, except when you were that person.

“Another late night?” Molly stood next to Caleb, as always. Lately the two had been impossible to separate, ever since they’d officially become an item after making eyes at each other for months, all while insisting there was no way the other would ever be into someone like them. Caleb’s arm, threaded through Molly’s, the tielfing’s head resting lightly on top of the human’s, proved that they’d kind of been idiots about the whole thing.

“Not that late,” Caduceus shrugged and busied himself with the pair’s drink orders. He’d memorised them both, of course, but if he looked like he was concentrating maybe they’d stop asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. Not that it didn’t brighten his day when his friends came in- which happened every day- but he knew where this was leading.

Caduceus wandered down to where his counter turned into the domain of two immense hulking beasts of steel and copper, his drinks machines, cantankerous old things that would only work for him. He began pressing buttons and twisting dials like he was playing a very broken organ, trying to appear busy. Unfortunately, Molly followed him down, Caleb in tow, peering over the glass cloches full of the day’s baked goods.

“Was it last night? Or technically this morning?” he pressed, concern in his voice.

Cad pulled a lever down, sending up a gout of caffeine scented steam, and sighed. He didn’t like to lie. But he also didn’t like the discussion the truth would invite. So he said nothing.

He focused on the coffees instead. Dark as sin for Caleb, with a number of espresso shots that made him feel guilty for his part in his friend’s inevitable early grave, no sugar at all because his stomach couldn’t process it properly. Spoonfuls of cinnamon and chai spice in Molly’s along with generous spoonfuls of caramel just on the verge of burnt and clouds of whipped cream so the drink was bitter, spicy, sweet and rich all at once.

The tiefling clearly did not appreciate being ignored and wouldn’t let it stop him. He leaned forward, over the box of lemon and poppyseed cake bars that weren’t selling as well as Cad had hoped, like not getting the firbolg’s attention was the problem.

“Cad, you are going to run yourself into the ground if you keep on like this,” he said seriously, red eyes narrowed, “This place is getting bigger, which is great, but if you keep trying to run it single handedly, pretty soon you’ll be getting no sleep at all and you’ll die and we’ll have to bury you here.”

Cad frowned, setting their mugs on the counter above the ‘Collect Here’ sign, “This isn’t where I want to be buried…”

“Then hire an assistant!” Molly threw his hands in the air, making his bangles and bracelets clatter, “Like I’ve been telling you over and over and I know Beau and Jester and Yasha have been telling you too!”

“I don’t need an assistant,” Cad’s ears dropped and he folded his skinny arms defensively across his chest, “You have all told me and I’ve told you all the same thing.”

Molly rolled his eyes with a noise of frustration but Caleb piped up instead, voice quiet and soft, like every word was carefully chosen before he said it, “We are just worried about you, Caduceus.”

Cad’s shoulders fell, some of the tension leaving them, “I know.”

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t say their worry was unfounded. It was getting difficult, as his cafe became more and more popular, particularly with the students from the Academy nearby, particularly non humans who found their tastes weren’t catered to elsewhere in the city. There were new faces every day, new people to talk to and new stories to learn, though of course there would always be that knot of colourful students who had piled into the booth on that first day and showed Caduceus how to have friends.

Whereas before he’d have fiddled with his machines and idly tweaking recipes to fill the hours, there were now some days where he didn’t even sit down until the sign on the door had been turned over. Fixing drinks behind the counter, taking food orders and running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables, trying desperately not to knock anything over and keeping track of what went where with an elaborate system of scrawled notes that would be incomprehensible to anyone but him. Loading dirty dishes into the washer, bussing tables, watering plants and rotating them around so the ones that needed shade got shade and the ones that needed sun got sun, talking to the ones that were lonely and scolding the ones that had been greedy. Prep for the dishes, cutting vegetables when he inevitably didn’t make enough in the hours before opening, keeping track of when to take the fresh pastries out and when to turn the things under the grill and when he could spare a second to run and get a band aid to put on his burns or cuts.

It all needed to be done. And yes, sometimes it took so much time that he didn’t get back to his apartment before it was technically tomorrow.

“You guys are sweet to worry,” he conceded, palms flat on the counter, fingers stroking all the nicks and scratches in the old wood, sanded down smooth, it always made him feel better, “But it’s just...adjustment. Pretty soon I’ll get used to it or it’ll level off and things will be fine again. I’ll get a handle on it.”

He was met by two disbelieving gazes, Molly’s open and challenging, Caleb’s mixed with worry.

Cad felt a bitterness rise in his throat, the need to snap and pout and insist that he could do it, though stares like that weren’t helping, no matter how many people thought he should spend the rest of his life alone in a graveyard, keeping it nice and clean for whenever his family decided to come home and pat him on the head for being such a good boy.

But he stopped himself, leaning back and inhaling deeply, the way he’d learned to do. He thought he’d left thoughts like that behind…

Either way, Molly and Caleb didn’t deserve those words. He knew their concern came from a good place.

That was part of having friends, he’d learned. They would say things you didn't agree with because they were worried about you. The big difference between them and your family was you weren’t obliged to do as they said.

You could just appreciate the fact that they cared.

“Things will fall into place,” Cad said with confidence, clearing the tiredness from his voice and making himself stand up straight with bright eyes, “They will. I’ve gotten this far.”

Molly looked like he wanted to argue more but Caleb squeezed the crook of his arm and spoke first, “We know, Caduceus. And you know we’re here if you need help.”

Cad nodded slowly, mollified and already ashamed for his own thoughts, “Thank you. Enjoy your drinks.”

Caleb gave him a small smile behind his beard. Caduceus often got the sensation that he understood him most, out of all their ramshackle little group. Molly didn’t seem as pleased but he relented, as he always did when his boyfriend asked anything of him. The two of them retreated to the table they always took when they were on one of their post-Caleb’s-classes dates and Cad turned back to his work.

He already had more customers waiting.

It seemed simultaneously like no time at all and an eternity before the windows were letting in the burnt orange of the sunset and Cad could turn the sign over.

As he turned to the empty cafe, he was already making a list of jobs in his head. Take in the dishes still sat hastily piled on the tables, wipe them down, wash the crockery all through in the kitchen, sweep the floor, mop, get the ingredients ready for tomorrow…

Cad sighed and hung up his cooking apron behind the counter and pulled out his cleaning one instead, trying to click his neck and back and win himself a few more hours before they became unusable. Tomorrow, he told himself firmly as he went to change the music to something more suited to his tastes, he’d be able to tell his friends that he was home and in bed by eleven.

He found a song he liked with far too many panpipes to be suitable for his customers and tucked his long braid into the back of his shirt to keep it out of the way. The list in his mind was still growing so he’d need to make a start soon.

First, he let himself have a sit down on the few tables surrounded by sagging, comfortable sofas. Just for a few minutes, just to reset the deep, throbbing ache in his ankles. Then he’d be up, get everything done and be home in time to do some sewing. Things falling into place, just like he’d promised.

The next thing Caduceus was aware of was his eyes opening to the sound of cars blasting horns outside and harsh morning sun hitting him right in the face. He winced, curling himself up like a woodlouse that just had it’s log pulled out from above it, though he found himself tipping too far over and hitting his head with a thunk on the arm of the sofa. Groaning, he wrapped his arms over his head, ninety per cent of his thoughts bubbling up in frantic panic at just how much stuff was now undone for the start of the day and how he had no time to do it at all.

The remaining ten percent was in some state of mania induced calm, humming that at least he could confidently tell Molly he’d been asleep way before eleven. Even if he hadn’t been in bed.

Before the panic could swallow him completely, one of the strings of ivy he’d allowed to grow through a specially made net across the ceiling stretched out it’s longest frond, just above his head, and tickled his nose pointedly.

“Yeah…” Cad groaned to the plant, knowing very well who was sending him this particular message. Someone he really did need to listen to, “I get the idea.”

The day after next, all of his friends found themselves at their usual table, the biggest in the place, an oaken monstrosity backed by benches rather than chairs that Cad had rescued from a garage sale and revarnished. It was a little rare to see absolutely all of them together, with everything going on in their lives but every so often things would align just right. Beau and Caleb would have an afternoon off their classes, Molly and Yasha would be able to duck out of work early if there was a show that evening, Veth would leave her husband in charge of the lab and Jester would just float in on her usual cloud of bustle and low level chaos from doing whatever she’d been doing. They’d all sit and that corner of the cafe would be filled with laughter and loud conversation, a lot of it the well intended insults of bone deep friendship.

Often Cad would wish he could be over with them. He’d go and say hello, of course, but there would always be things that needed doing, things that would keep him from sitting down and really feeling part of them.

But not today. Today, as soon as they all gravitated together, Caduceus cleared the last of his customers still waiting, saw them off with whatever they needed and one of his broad smiles, then slipped out from behind the counter and sank into the chair they always left open for him, even if he was too busy to occupy it.

All of their eyes turned to him, surprised and happy and a little confused. Before any of them could open their mouths, he sighed and looked down at his hands.

“I need an assistant. Do you guys know anyone?”

There were a lot of relieved exhalations, Molly rolling his eyes and Caleb nudging him with an elbow, Jester’s face brightening as she gasped and slapped the table repeatedly in excitement.

“Oh! Oh! We do! We know someone who’d be perfect!”

Beau caught on, she had a knack for interpreting her girlfriend’s bursts of energy, “Ahhh...you know what, I think he would be ideal actually.”

“Who?” Caduceus was already starting to fidget, fingers drumming.

“A friend of ours,” Beau stirred her ice coffee, “He is...or was, I guess, a sailor. But his contract’s up and he’s looking to spend a little time on dry land. Needs a way to pay the rent until he can get a thingy on another ship.”

“Berth,” Caleb piped up from where he was eating a beetroot brownie while pulling it apart into crumbs, “It’s a berth on a ship.”

“Yeah,” Beau waved her fingers in his direction, “One of those.”

Cad nodded slowly. If he was a friend of his friends, surely it wouldn’t be so bad. That must be someone he could trust to water the plants and man the counter and look after the place he’d built from the ground up and represented his first chance at real freedom.

He took a deep breath, the drumming getting worse, “What’s his name? Maybe we can talk...I mean, maybe a trial period or...or something...”

Jester already had her phone out, fingers tapping energetically on the keys, grinning to herself and talking animatedly about how great this all was. Beau smiled fondly at her and turned to answer.

“Your new assistant is called Fjord.”

[heyyyharry]

Hand In Hand

(From the Flatmate Series)

...in which Y/N and Harry spend some quality time together, but only because they’re handcuffed (to each other).

Warning: too much fluff, kinky Harry, soft Harry, drunk Y/N.

Wattpad link

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It all started when Y/N found that 'object' on her bedroom floor.

A pair of handcuffs.

Her first reaction was plain shock because it was definitely not hers, and there were only two people in that flat. So it wasn't hers then, of course, it belonged to...

"HARRY!"

Y/N's scream nearly tore all the walls down and it took no time for her to show up at his bedroom door. Harry instantly hopped out of bed, looking extremely terrified as he started second-guessing what he'd done wrong this time. Without waiting for him to figure out on his own, the girl held up the pair of handcuffs with two fingers and a look of disgust, asking him to explain. The smirk on his face had already confirmed that he was in no doubt guilty.

"It must have fallen out from the laundry basket," her flatmate explained calmly, taking the thing back from her hand. "It was in my jacket, I forgot to take it out."

Hearing that made Y/N sigh in relief. She laid her hands on her chest, rolling her eyes upward. "Thank God. I thought you had sex in my room."

"Who said I haven't?" It was just a joke, which he immediately regretted after seeing the look on her face. "Never. I swear."

Y/N shot the brunette a death glare and was about to leave, but her eyes lingered on the object for a bit too long. When Harry noticed that stare, a playful smirk soon spread across his lips as he lifted an eyebrow at the girl.

"Curious?"

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. With a bit of hesitation, Y/N pondered for a while before gathering enough bravery to question, "what exactly do you use them for? Handcuff your partner to the bed?"

Harry almost choked on air as he heard that. He tried so hard to contain his laughter so his innocent flatmate wouldn't feel embarrassed. Even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with her question, to hear her talk about sex, even just indirectly, was something very new and amusing to him.

"Yeah, I do sometimes," he answered casually. "But there are so many other things you can do with these."

Y/N's cheeks were burning up as she was almost hypnotized by Harry rotating one of the metal cuffs around his forefinger. His previous answer was echoing inside the walls of her brains and she was trying so hard to stop her imagination from getting a bit out of hand.

"Last night the girl I was with came up with an idea that I would handcuff my own wrist—"

Click. The cuff was now locked around Harry's right wrist, causing Y/N to widen her eyes in shock. She wanted to speak up but she was somehow unable to make a sound, still so bewildered, and at the same time, distracted by Harry's words.

"—to her wrist and see what kind of new positions we could come up with. It's a fun little challenge, when you're...restricted."

Y/N swallowed hard, sweating through her palms, heart beating out of rhythm when he took a step forward, but she was not even given time to question his intention. Once she heard that familiar 'click' and looked down, the other cuff was already closed around her left wrist.

"What are you doing?!" She literally screamed in his face. "Let me go!"

"I just want you to try it once. It's not like we're actually doing it." He laughed, clearly amused by her reaction which was completely expected anyway. He found joy in ticking her off, her anger was actually his reward.

"Okay...now I've tried it. Unlock me."

"Okay, okay. God, you must be fun at parties." Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling and reaching out to open the top drawer of his nightstand. As a look of terror flashed across his face, Y/N began to feel uneasy.

"Well, do you have the key, Harry?"

Harry stood up straight, running his fingers through his own hair as he said, "Of course I do...It's just...not where I thought it would be."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"Calm down," he told her, holding up his other hand. "Let's split and look for it."

"How can we freaking split, genius?!"

"Can you stop yelling?! You're making me nervous! It must be around here somewhere. We have to work together to find it."

Y/N turned her eyes to the handcuffs linking her wrist to Harry's. Maybe she should listen to him and cool down so they could work together and find the key, which was most likely just lying somewhere in their flat. If she kept on freaking out, she'd stay in this situation for God knew how long.

"When I'm finally out of this thing, I'll kill you." She shut her eyes. "I swear, I will kill you with my bare hands."

"Okay, I get the concept," he exhaled sharply. "Now, why don't we start over there?"

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The search had gone on for almost an hour. They'd checked every single corner in their flat, and still, they found absolutely nothing. Somehow they'd ended up on the kitchen floor, backs against the cabinet, utterly hopeless.

Y/N was the first to speak up. "I have to babysit in half an hour. This is all your fault."

"Babysit who?"

"The kid upstairs."

"He's like fifteen!"

"Not that one, the other one."

Harry's eyes grew wide as soon as her words struck him like lighting.

"There's another key!" He cried out in joy and Y/N's frown was turned upside down in a heartbeat.

"Where is it?!" She asked

"I don't have it."

"Then wh-"

"No, listen, I don't have it but I know where it is. I need to make a phone call," he said fast, pulling out his phone and dialing the contact with the name 'Karen'. Y/N assumed it was the girl he'd slept with last night. Only the thought of it could irritate her.

"She doesn't pick up. I'll text her."

"What if she doesn't have it?"

"Then we have to cut off our hands." Y/N's eyes could just fall right out of her head.

As Harry was dying of laughter from seeing her reaction, his phone chimed to notified a reply from Karen. She watched his face when he read it and his frown let her know things weren't looking up for the two of them.

"She has the key but she's currently out of town." He stared at the screen a bit longer. "Wait, wait, wait! She'll be home at 6PM so I can still make it to Niall's birthday party tonight."

"What about my babysitting job?" She questioned in doubt as Harry rose from the kitchen floor, pulling her up with him.

"You're still going to babysit. I'm coming with you."

That didn't sound like a great plan, but they didn't have a plan, or a choice. So Y/N guessed it was the optimal solution for now. Great, she thought to herself, now I have to babysit two kids at once.

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"Y/N, my dear!"

The single mother couldn't be happier to see her babysitter. She'd been all dressed up and ready to leave for her date tonight. But the moment she saw Harry, the smile immediately fell from her full red lips.

"Uh, who is this?"

"My flatmate, Harry. He's babysitting with me today."

Y/N put on a smile and Harry did the same.

"But I only pay for one of you."

The flatmates exchanged worrying looks and at the same time turned back to their upstairs neighbor.

"Yes, of course." The girl chuckled. "Harry's only here because we're in an inconvenient situation."

Harry raised his right hand, and Y/N, her left, causing the handcuffs to make a clinking sound, which they'd already got tired of hearing.

"Oh..." The woman's lips formed a big circle when she realized the big problem here. "Well, I'll be back before 6PM. You know the rest." Then she handed the key to the babysitter and hurried to the lift without a single look back. That was easier than Y/N had thought.

However, unlike his mother, the six-year-old child just couldn't ignore the fact that his favorite babysitter was handcuffed to another person. He kept on asking about it, not giving up until she gave him a justifying answer.

"Harry and I were...role-playing. Harry was the criminal and I was the cop. I caught him and handcuffed him to me so he wouldn't run."

"Can't believe you're saying that to a kid..." Harry said and Y/N immediately smacked his arm.

The child, of course, fully believed in that made-up story. He clapped his hands with enthusiasm and asked if he could join their fun little game. "How about Harry has you as his prisoner and I'm another cop coming to rescue you?"

"Sure, Jamie, let's do that!" Y/N agreed, nodding her head.

"Why does Harry have to be the bad guy?" Harry looked at her, pointing a finger to himself but he didn't get a reply from either of the other two. It left him with no other choice but to accept his role as the bad guy.

Harry had thought this would be the worst day of his life, but now things were looking up.

If anyone had told him today he'd be babysitting some kid he didn't know with his flatmate and finding it enjoyable, he would've laughed in their face. Now half of him wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. The handcuffs weren't that bad, except for when one of them had to pee, the other person must be right nearby (with their face turned away and eyes closed of course), and they couldn't change their clothes or take a shower. As awful as it might sound, that was the closest he'd ever been to Y/N. He'd always thought that she wouldn't ever voluntarily hang out with him.

"Is it my turn yet?" Harry groaned, watching Y/N coloring the Cheshire Cat in the huge Alice In Wonderland coloring book, and Jamie humming a song while working on The Mad Hatter. Y/N had her tongue stick out from the corner of her lips, the thing she always did when she was concentrating on something. Though he might never tell her, Harry had always found it adorable.

"You're not getting your turn, Harry. You don't have a right hand."

"I can use my left."

"Then you'll ruin our masterpiece."

"Y/N, please?"

"Alright, alright. But you can only color the roses," said Y/N as she tried not to laugh and handed him the red crayon.

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It was now 6:30 PM.

Y/N and Harry climbed into the backseat of the taxi as he told the driver the address. She had expected that they were going to someone's house to get the key, but it took her a moment to realize they were heading to a nightclub instead.

"Wait, I thought we're going to Karen's?" She widened her eyes at her flatmate who looked away to avoid eye contact. Y/N was sure that the look on his face couldn't be good news.

"She told me she'd missed the train so she'd be back late."

"Where are we going then?"

"It's Niall's birthday, so..."

"Oh no, no, no!" The girl shook her head rapidly. "I am not hanging out at some bar with your friends!"

"Too bad you are. It's not like you have a choice, Y/N."

"You do! You can just not go!"

"I can't miss this! It's my best friend's birthday!"

"Fine!" She furiously tugged hard on the handcuff causing Harry to wince in pain. She couldn't care less if she'd hurt him, he deserved that and anything worse than that for bringing her into this mess with him.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "Niall's very nice."

Niall Horan was Harry's best friend. Him, Harry, and Y/N all went to university together. She had never actually spoken a word to him before even when he'd come over so often her flat was more like his second home now. She couldn't confirm how 'nice' he was but probably the nicest among Harry's friends. The people her flatmate hung out with didn't like her very much, probably because she didn't like them. So it was no surprise she only received unwelcoming stares from those people when she showed up together with Harry.

Niall looked at Harry and then Y/N and then Harry again, raising one of his eyebrows because he still couldn't explain to himself why those two were together. "I don't know if I should be mad that you brought Y/N or you came here so underdressed."

"I'm handcuffed to Y/N. We lost the key."

This time both of them raised their linked wrists perfectly in sync because they were used to it by now.

"Oh, I get it." Chuckling, Niall attempted to high-five Harry but his best friend only shook his head and kept his expression indifferent.

"Not what it looks like, Niall."

"It's okay, mate. I won't judge." The blue-eyed boy patted Harry on the back, still believing in what was far from the truth; but Harry knew there was no use trying to explain their situation to him. He and Y/N exchanged looks in silence as they both followed the guy.

Niall handed each of them a beer and told them to enjoy it because it was his birthday after all. As Harry happily complied, Y/N, on the other hand, was way too tense right now. She couldn't understand how her flatmate could be so untroubled by the fact that they were still in handcuffs. She wished she was half as chill as he was.

"Drink, Y/N. It's not poison."

"I don't think I should."

"You've been given a once in a lifetime chance to finally have some real fun. I guarantee that we'll get out of these handcuffs, but until then you're gonna have to stop overthinking." He nudged her hand with the cold beer, telling her to take it and flashing her the most gorgeous smile she'd ever seen from him. "Please? Just this once, for me."

That was all it took for her to think 'fuck it' and grabbed the bottle to gulp the beer all at once. Harry watched in awe as his flatmate finished the bottle in one go and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she demanded another one.

It didn't take too long until the amount of alcohol she'd consumed finally kicked in. The thing she did next really put him in shock. She climbed on top of a table, asking him to come along as if he had another choice. While the music was loud and everyone was cheering for them, Y/N told him to dance with her. And he did, without even a bit of hesitation.

He couldn't care less if his friends made fun of him the next day when they were all sober. He'd never had this much fun in such a long time and he was so proud to think he'd brought out this new side of Y/N, or alcohol had; either way it was amazing to see her let herself lose, and for just one night, stop thinking about what other people thought of her.

"This is so much fun!" Y/N jumped without warning and almost fell off the table as she missed a step. Lucky for her Harry was there to grab her just in time. She was laughing like an insane person now, and he knew for sure tomorrow she wouldn't remember anything starting from this point.

Karen eventually texted him to say she'd just got home and that he could come over to get the key now. So he told Y/N they had to go. Of course, she refused, but Harry had decided that she was not in her right mind to make a decision.

On the taxi leaving the club, she had nearly passed out. Her head was resting on his shoulder and her left hand found its comfort place in his right with no intention of letting go. Her hand was cold but it was the softest he'd ever touched in his life. Not until then did Harry realize that one so flustered from just something as innocent as hand-holding.

The taxi finally pulled over in front of a building. With a bit struggle, Harry still managed to get both of them out of the vehicle, telling the driver to wait and letting her stand with her back against the door. Her fingers were still intertwined with his and she was a little awake now.

"Harry I want to go home nooow...I don't want to be here..." She was pouting like a child and it was actually the first time he'd seen her so soft. If he must admit, Harry would say he wanted her to be like this all the time, all needy and clingy, just for him.

Using his free hand to stroke her back, he leaned down to whisper to the sleepy girl, "just be patient, love. I'll take you home but we need to get the handcuffs off first. Will you be a good girl for me and wait a bit?"

On spur of the moment, Y/N closed the distance between them and laid her cheek on his shoulder, face buried into the crook of his neck. Though her voice was muffled by his hot skin, he could still make out what she wanted to say.

"I'll be a good girl."

Those four words alone were enough to turned Harry to stone. He could never have imagined such words being said in a non-sexual way would ever make him weak at the knees. He should really be concerned. He might be, maybe later. Now he was just thrilled to bits.

"Why weren't you this sweet when you were with me?"

The voice caused his head to spin to the side and he spotted Karen walking towards them. The girl stopped and leaned her shoulder against the taxi with a big smile on her face.

"Who's this special lady? Your girlfriend?"

"No."

"You sure treat her like she is."

Harry chuckled as his left arm tightened around Y/N waist. "She just...means a lot to me."

Karen shrugged because what he'd said was pretty obvious. She didn't ask anything else and just took out the key from her purse, handing it to him.

Harry literally growled in relief as he took no time to unlock the handcuffs, releasing his sore wrist, as well as Y/N's. Once they were no longer attached to one another, he helped her slide into the back seat, and thanked Karen for her help before getting into the taxi as well. The girl waved goodbye to the two of them, knowing that was probably the last time she and Harry spoke. After all, they'd only had sex once, it didn't mean anything to neither of them.

As Harry turned away from the window to the sleeping girl in his arms, whose hand was still holding his as tight as before, he realized this was something entirely different.

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Once they had arrived at their flat, Harry sat Y/N down on her bed and used her makeup wipes to clean her face, knowing she'd be pissed in the morning if he let her sleep in her makeup. When he was done, she was a bit awake.

She smiled at him with her hooded eyes and blurted, "you're so pretty."

That compliment let him know she was still very drunk. Harry thanked her still as he laughed and intended to leave the room, but she stopped him immediately. Y/N rolled over and patted on the empty side of the bed, telling him to lie down with her. At first, he was reluctant. They had crossed so many lines tonight already starting with them holding hand and her sleeping with her head on his chest. However, he agreed to stay.

It didn't take so long for Y/N to fall back to sleep, this time, with Harry's arms wrapped around her.

It was all so quiet here, nothing but the sound of Y/N's soft breathing. Harry was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling as he began to replay their entire day in his mind. While holding her in his arms and feeling her heart beating in sync with his, it finally hit him that he'd grown more attached to his flatmate each and every day they lived together. It was scary to think that there might come a day when he woke up and realized he couldn't live without her. He wanted to make her happy, he truly did, but his fear of having feelings for her was solid proof that he was incapable of doing so.

"Please forgive me if I'm not here when you wake up. I can't let myself do that to you," he whispered to her, knowing she couldn't hear anything he said. The young girl purred faintly when he kissed her hair and he could only hope she was dreaming of him.

When he left her alone in her bed and walked out, Harry finally learned that making the right decision didn't always feel so good.

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Y/N woke up the next morning alone in her bed, still in the same clothes from the night before. Even though her recent memories were all blurred, she did recall herself dancing and singing and being an embarrassing mess in front of her flatmate and his friends. And as much as she would like to stay in her room for the rest of the day and skip all the classes to deal with her terrible headache, her stomach was growling for food, leaving her no choice but to drag herself out of bed and heavy feet to the kitchen.

When Harry walked in, he found her full of energy while making breakfast and singing that annoying song from last night at the bar, probably not even knowing why that tune was stuck in her brain.

"Good morning!"

"Jesus Christ! You scared me, Harry!"

"How do you still have so much energy left after last night?" He chuckled, pulling out a chair to sit down as she placed the eggs and bacon on two plates and carried them to the kitchen table to join him.

"Ooh, you made me breakfast!"

The excitement on his face got her grinning. "To say thank you for putting up with me last night." She paused a bit before finding the nerve to ask, "how bad was I?"

"I have the clips. Wanna see for yourself?"

"No, thanks." She immediately refused, yet nonchalant smile was soon displayed on her pink lips. "But I remember how fun it was. Had a nice dream too."

"Really? About what?"

"Nothing that would interest you," she simply replied. "But we should do that again sometimes, not the handcuffs! Hanging out I mean."

Harry was taken aback by that suggestion. "Hanging out? Like...just you and me?"

"Yeah...only if you want...We can do something, go somewhere...together, sometimes."

Oh little did she know, Harry was over the moon.

"Yes," he said with the happiest smile she'd ever seen. "I think I'd love that."

[theoutdoorpursuit]

Hunters In Camo Eating Lunch: Late Season Desperation and A Burger That Put Me On Injured Reserve

Deer season in November versus deer season in December is like comparing New Years Eve to Valentine’s Day for a single lad like myself. Generally on NYE I’m surrounded by friends and throwing down shots with strangers. However on Valentine’s Day I find myself at home, alone, thinking about how dumb a holiday it is. Similarly in the woods during December, I find myself alone, no animals let alone deer, thinking about how dumb this time of year in a treestand is. 

December had approached and I was unlucky enough to draw a quota hunt on a piece of public land in Farmville, Virginia. That’s right I say unlucky because I had been there three weeks prior on a hunting buddy’s quota hunt where we concluded there were no deer on the property. The Wildlife Management Area was but a hunt club four years prior before being purchased by the state and I have my wonders whether those dog running hoodlums cleaned the place dry. A present-day antler point restriction of four points per side would make me believe that was the case. On the bright side, it was the last day of rifle season, it was a doe day, and Farmville has some dynamite food destinations to gorge oneself close by. So I drug my brother out of bed at a ripe 4:30 a.m. to beat the sun into the woods.

Three weeks prior I had nearly lost in on this land. I hiked so deep in there that the return trip nearly killed me.The shit I had to walk through to get back, in the then warm November afternoon. Knee deep swamps, up and down rolling hills, brush so thick you needed a running start to get through it. I fell to my knees when I reached the truck… “Never again,” I said, “Never again”. But oh how wrong was I. You see in my sleep deprived, physically fatigued stupor, I forgot about the trail camera I had set up months prior in anticipation for my quota hunt. So if we’re being completely honest, I was going to get a $75 trail camera, rifle by my side with a better chance of being mauled by a black bear than laying eyes on a deer.

Oh the joys of public land… I arrived that morning to find a truck parked on the trail head leading to my forsaken trail camera. Not wanting to bust in on the poor sap’s hunt, my brother and I decided to head across the street to a spot unfamiliar to us. Due to the newness of the area we devised a plan to split the piece in two. He would go right and I would go left, that way, God willing, we wouldn’t shoot one another.

The morning went by as they usually do in Farmville… spooked some animals on the walk in and sat on a hillside to watch the stillness of a vacant woods. After an hour or two sitting on the hillside, I decided to give still hunting a go. The off and on rain gave me some cover to move without causing a ruckus. And so the process began, Id take a step, 1 Mississippi… 2 Mississippi… when on the count of 30 I’d ever so gingerly move one foot in front of the other. At an excruciatingly painful pace, I inched through the woods. 

By about 10:30 A.M. I had had enough. I could nearly see the car, however I stubbornly vowed to uphold the still hunting method until I reached the field in which I walked in on. I was in no hurry, I had no plans, most importantly no deer to chase. At this point I was in what one would describe as a meditative, zen state focusing on the counting in my head and the one foot in front of the other when FOOTSTEPS!!

A doe busting over the hill at full speed. I raised my rifle in shock but before my brain could register the rare sight of a deer, she was gone… much like a mirage.

 “What the hell pushed her like that?”

I went to shoot a text to my brother, check in where he was, but before I could unlock the phone, busting over the very same hill the doe had seconds ago surfaced was an orange blob, rifle raised scanning the area. I waved at him.. And waved at him. Unlocked my phone and dialed his number. “Hey what's up I’m on a doe!  Just had my cross hairs on her.” “I know,” I replied “Look down to your left…”

And that was our excitement for the day, an inadvertent deer drive that likely pushed the only deer in Farmville to the next county...

Lucky for us, our morning had been expected. And when you plan for the worst, you finish off a hunt with a burger that numbs any and all pain. And if you’re in Farmville, Virginia, you’ll find that burger at the local Macado’s. With over 20 locations in the fine states of Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina, The “Do” perfectly compliments a bustling college town like a cold beer compliments a burger. Macado’s boasts a long list of artfully named sandwiches with all your favorites like the Hindenburg, a sandwich so big it’ll blow you up or the Carpetbagger a delicious “wich” with influences from the North. The list of sandwiches is large enough to capture any stomach’s attention, but about two years ago I flipped the menu over and ordered a burger… And man am I glad I did.

My poison of the day was the Boomer Burger, a half pound patty covered in melted nacho cheese, onions and sauteed jalapenos. Just after it arrived, the waitress turned around with the check. “Strange?” I thought, until I realized the burger had vanished...

I’ve read many articles about the infamous “Flow State.” The optimal frequency which a human functions, where a task causes one to be fully immersed in a project, losing perception of time and space around him or herself. That is how I describe my lunch that day. “What have I done,” I pondered out loud. The waitress was kind enough to fill me in...

I looked down, there was nacho cheese everywhere. Down my arm, on my shirt. The half pound burger had put up a fight but was beat down with the help of two bud lights and an intensity of unrelenting commitment. In a trance, I was pulled in time and time again by the mouth watering bun. A toasted outer shell with a soft, slightly sweet middle, paired with the salty nacho cheese and a hint of spice from the pickled ja-LAP-enos. The burger never stood a chance.

I always leave Macado’s satisfied, whether I’m in Farmville, Harrisonburg, Roanoke, Lexington, etc. Good food, great services.. Yada yada. But here’s something they don’t tell you about Macado’s… If you eat a burger with jalapenos and nacho cheese… Go ahead and clear out your afternoon. My Saturday afternoon was an alternating rotation from the bathroom to the shower and back again.

Looks like you got the last laugh, Boomer Burger. But I’d like to take a moment to thank our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for college football and the ESPNTV app. Sometimes we all need some love and support on the John.

Between the burgers and deer in Farmville, Virginia. My butt took a beating that day.

[chrisabraham]

Transcript of Guy Kawasaki’s Remarkable People podcast with the podfather, Adam Curry:

Guy Kawasaki:

I’m Guy Kawasaki, and this is Remarkable People. This episode’s remarkable guest is Adam Curry. Adam was one of the VJ’s, video jockeys of MTV, back in the 1980s. In this position, he interviewed some of the most popular musicians of the time. This includes Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.

Adam is an early adopter and pioneer. He embraced the web and podcasting long before other people. In fact, he helped make podcasting a thing by collaborating with Dave Winer on podcasting technology. He also created one of the very first podcast, The Daily Source Code. In 2005, Steve Jobs previewed Apple’s podcasting efforts by playing The Daily Source Code on stage at D, the most exclusive tech conference. It was a huge deal when Steve used a product like this.

Adam also started companies along the way that offered services such as web designing, video sharing, incubating, and podcasting. He currently co-hosts the No Agenda Podcast with John Dvorak.

I’m Guy Kawasaki, this is Remarkable People, and now, here’s the remarkable Adam Curry: podcaster, VJ, and pioneer.

Adam Curry:

August 1st, 1981 is when MTV kicked off. I didn’t come in until ’87, as they’d gone through the first wave and they were doing an expansion, and that expansion meant that they were going on primetime cable, basic cable, which was forty channels, and that meant that that would be available everywhere.

And back in the day, only people who are old enough to remember this, but cable was a joke. It was, “Yeah, that’s not real TV, no one’s going to advertise on it, no one cares about it.” They had the ACE Awards, and then they laid out the CableACE Awards, and each of these cable systems was just like their own little fiefdom that the owner would be a typical guy with a Cadillac with horns on the front, like, “Yeah, it’s my wife. Hello, MTV man.”

So we’d also have to tour the affiliates to make sure that they kept us on their stations, on their cable networks. So it was real Mickey Mouse. And I was living in the Netherlands, and they recruited me from there. I was doing television over there. And I came from a state broadcaster and we had fourteen cameras, five makeup rooms. It was all gunmetal gray. None of it was spiffy or anything, but we had a proper camera operator and a cable puller, all the stuff you’d want, and MTV was basically a studio. We shared the studio at the time with, I think the Sally Jessy Raphael show, this was on the Unitel Video on 57th Street in Manhattan.

And there was a couple lights. The lighting director would come in once a week and he’d say, “Okay, stand in your spot,” and he tapped the light, “Okay, this is good. I’ll see you in a week or two.” We had no makeup, no wardrobe, we did all that ourselves. It was really, really guerrilla television, very low rent, and it was kind of being run by radio people like a radio station at the time.

So I fit right in, I felt great, although I never really connected well with the management. I think they thought I had too many aspirations. I had all kinds of things written in my contract they didn’t like, like I could do radio, and they just thought that was ridiculous. “Are you going to be a VJ or a DJ? What do you want to be?” I said, “Why can’t it be so both?”

There were other things, like I was in the music meeting as the only on-air talent where they decided what they would accept to play on the channel, and some producer things I’d negotiate because they came to me so that gave me an upper hand. But it was not the drug-fueled bosom babes rolling around the studio-type vibe that you might think it was, it was quite sedentary, quite tedious. In fact, we’d record, not in real-time, but just the segments. So we never actually saw the videos while we were taping it.

Guy Kawasaki:

What?

Adam Curry:

We’d seen them before. Yeah. Go on YouTube, you see me, I’d be like I’m looking off camera, I’m literally looking at like a floor manager or a production assistant like, “All right, that’s great to see Bon Jovi up there.” And they talk about the next video and then here comes, I look off to the side, I’m just looking into darkness, and then they would literally… This is so pre-internet.

They would take these big tapes, these pneumatic tapes, which is like a big Betamax kind of would look like, and they put them in a car service, drive it to Long Island to the network operation center, where we had guys all day long who would insert like Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment A, and he’d play it and then he’d click the other machine and play the video, and then he’d fast forward, queue up the next segment, Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment B, and he’d play that. So it was kind of a playout system like a radio station with cart machines. And it was really, really, really low rent.

And I was on the Internet at the time and they had a Wang computer. I’m like, “Whoa, these guys are ancient.” It was crazy. They were doing the Word processing on the Wang and sending it down from the studio. Whoa, it was great.

Guy Kawasaki:

You’re bursting my bubble here, Adam. So you’re telling me that you didn’t just watch the video and then react to it?

Adam Curry:

It’s all acting, Guy.

Guy Kawasaki:

All that was fake?

Adam Curry:

All of it was fake, man, all of it, every single bit of it. Yeah. And this is why I rarely do mainstream things anymore. I know how it works. I’m always disappointed.

I remember when Michael Jackson died and I got all these calls like CBS Evening News, “I want to talk to you.” I’m like, “Okay, that’s fine.” I was doing other stuff at the time, I wasn’t on MTV anymore. And I spent three hours interview, some walking shots, and then you watch at night, it’s literally fifteen seconds of me going like, “He’ll be missed.” All the other stuff I said was… I’m like, “I’m not going to do that anymore.”

I’m so spoiled by podcasting and the freedom that we have. There’s a lot of disillusionment there, but man, does it work. Does the mainstream trickery just work beautifully. Everything is a great product that I see, it really is. It’s not truthful but it’s a great product.

Guy Kawasaki:

Back then, did the experts scoff at the idea that there would be only music videos? Did they say, “American public doesn’t want this, they want movies, they want Disney specials, just to have two minute videos over and over again is not going to cut it”?

Adam Curry:

Interesting. Again, it was really radio people who drove this, and they said, “Oh, we can run this like a radio station, add VJ’s, and they’ll do shifts.” And basically, as a VJ, you’re one step lower on the rung from curable lepers, incurable lepers, then down there is VJ.

So they really want just interchangeable talent that you can just pull in and rotate out and have them look pretty and do their thing, don’t bump into the furniture, and we’ll play the songs. But something else happened, and the revolution really came from creatives.

So the first thing was these videos. Directors were making videos and they were doing them on really small budgets, and this became an industry. And so the first thing that had to happen was, we had to legitimize what was going on.

So every MTV Video, you would see the director, and the director would get a credit at the beginning and the end of the video. And that was not only an interesting negotiation that we went through with certain guilds, but it also really gave legitimacy to the product. And then you got celebrity kind of directors who would jump into the game, and there was people directing for each other. So that really became quite a thing. Then with John Landis and the Thriller video, all of these things really built up into this is an actual product that stands by itself, which ultimately also became MTV’s demise as we know it, when music videos were so commoditized that they found themselves competing with other networks for premieres.

So the next Michael Jackson video was going to BET. And so Viacom, MTV Networks, they said, “What? Let’s just buy BET, because we can’t have these guys cutting into our business here.” So they did that.

And then the commoditization just continued, particularly as online started coming to play, and they saw that they could get a 0.3 rating for music videos, maybe a 1.0 in primetime with some special programming like Dial MTV, or what later became TRL Live. But you did a long form programming like MTV Beach House, or MTV Real World, or Sporting Fool, or Remote Control, the game show, now you’re talking a three rating. And that was it. That was the smartest decision they could have made.

Sad for what it was, but the music video was no longer a viable business, and so they just went straight into, “We’re targeting this audience and we’re going to go after them 100 percent,” which a lot of it is low hanging fruit, teen moms. It’s crazy, it’s a lot of reality shows.

So the joke, the meme that goes around at the fortieth anniversary is, “Happy birthday, MTV, forty years and fourteen years of music,” all the rest was different kinds of programming. But it’s nice because it’s something that our generation, and that really is older millennials, I would say, up until… or maybe it’s just the older millennials and some boomers in there as well, that was something we shared.

It’s like the rotary phones on the wall. You can show it to people, they’ll be like, “That was like our thing. You stand here waiting for it, and you grab the cord and go around the door into the basement, really?”

So it’s that, that it’s hard to understand, but I’m so happy that I was a part of it, and I was there for seven and a half years. And to this day, I’ll be in just the most odd circumstances, maybe a CEO and then they figure it out like, “Wait a minute, aren’t you the guy from…?” And then the shirt opens up, Metallica T-shirt’s on underneath it. So it’s kind of a cultish thing at this point, but I’m very, very happy that I was a part of it.

Guy Kawasaki:

Wow. And tell me, how did MTV go from this scrappy startup held together by duct tape, into really defining the culture?

Adam Curry:

First, I will say Tom Freston was really important in that. I feel that he led MTV in his own Tom Freston way. He was a very, very interesting guy, very, very rock and roll, but complete suit, you wouldn’t know it. But you look into his background, he was into import export with Afghanistan. It’s like, “Okay. I know enough about Tom. This guy, he’s rock and roll.” And he had a good connection with the music industry. He understood what they wanted, because MTV is just a part of the system, and it became that very, very quickly, with all the negotiations and what goes on, “And who do we put in on special rotation to hook up someone else?” All the favors are all there.

And it was top forty radio sliding towards hip hop, the artists, and the video artists who put it all together, they made the words come alive. The videos, at a certain point was just the budgets were crazy, and record companies would still put them up and put up those kinds of budgets, and that started to change over time. So more creativity came in, the technology changed.

Final Cut Pro, that was instrumental for MTV Music videos in the latter part of I’d say the ’90s. It was like, “What? Nonlinear video editing and I can do this at home?” I remember going to CBS Sony records in 2005 or something, I was going to see I… ’04 maybe… see if I could do anything with the music business with podcasting. And I’m in the lobby there, and in Manhattan there’s a second floor lobby, and that’s where everyone waits until you’re called up to God to go meet with whoever you’re going to meet with. And I couldn’t believe what I saw.

It was just like 100 hip hop groups, and they’re all filming stuff, and they got soundtracks running, so I guess they’re doing a part of the videos that they’re going to get their record contract, and Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran is sitting there waiting next to me, and we’re looking at all this, and all of a sudden the lady comes on the speaker, “Mr. Simon Le Bon, Mr. Simon Le Bon, you can go up now, Mr. Simon Le Bon.” This is Simon Le Bon, we know who he is, and the whole thing was just mayhem, Guy.

I was like, “I don’t recognize this industry. I don’t know who’s making the money where it’s going.” And of course, the music business in general has really been stripped to its bare bones with Spotify and streaming and all the types of deals that were done to keep the broadcasters rich and musicians starving. The same story as always.

Guy Kawasaki:

Nothing’s changed.

Adam Curry:

No, not really, not really.

Guy Kawasaki:

And were you part of the, “I want my MTV promotion group”?

Adam Curry:

No, no.

Guy Kawasaki:

No? Not at all?

Adam Curry:

That was before me. That was the very first, when they just started off and they needed to get cable stations to carry the signal, that was the thing. Just like radio, you had to clear the stations and you had to talk to all these guys. I should know who came up with this. But the “I want my MTV” was an easy one.

You got all, especially the British guys to say, Bowie, The Stones, you got Madonna, you got Billy Idol, it was all the icons of the moment, and they loved it too. They were part of it. It was very, very community type thing, and it was heartfelt, even though there was money behind it and the intent was to create a four billion dollar brand, which it is, or at least annual revenues. So it behooved everybody. It was fun to watch. But the early days, no that was not me. I was not a part of that.

I was a part of Spring Break. This is a good one. So Spring Break became famous, MTV Spring Break coverage, but MTV didn’t want to just go to Florida and watch kids belly flop. That was never the idea. The idea was, “How do we get Budweiser to advertise on the channel?” And I was a part of this pitch. So we went to Budweiser, Anheuser-Busch, and we said, “Look, your beer is down there in Florida and all these other places for spring break. We’ll do wall to wall coverage like big inflatable bottles of Bud everywhere,” and they went for it. Then of course, it wound up with me on the Bud Light boat with Spuds MacKenzie. Okay. But we did whatever we had to do, and that was purely to get them on the station, and it turned into kind of an unforgettable programming that they repeated over and over again.

Guy Kawasaki:

Man, you’re bursting so many of my bubbles, Adam.

Adam Curry:

No, but this is good. It was really fun to do. It was real. The realest thing I think was the Video Music Award. Those were live, they went out live, the early ones.

Later on, it became a little too contrived. And it was so good in fact that the VJ’s were not actually invited. If it was in Los Angeles, you had to fly yourself out, you had to buy your own ticket. They were horrible to us. It was like, “No, no, no, this is special programming. This is not for you.”

But like the people watch this all day long. So you get to do one little segment or something like outside. I’m standing outside here, all the stars are inside, I’m the schmuck VJ on the outside.

Guy Kawasaki:

So as a VJ, you basically watch these videos and then you had to just make it up on the fly? You weren’t meeting with them, you weren’t interviewing? How did this work?

Adam Curry:

Oh, no, no, no. There was plenty of interviews and stuff that would then get chopped up. I had several shows throughout the years that would include, would basically be six segments in an hour, of which three could be two minutes and just typical, it was like typical television because you got to sell more Skittles.

So we do that, and those things were great, and I loved doing that, many, many interviews, but it was never really like a live show, except for a Mardi Gras was live, we would cut live to Mardi Gras, which was really fun, back before you got killed in the streets. Spring Break was live, and the afternoons were live for a while with the Dial MTV where people would call in and request their favorite video.

So no, it was actually a lot of fun, and they were, in general, highly scripted. So every VJ was highly scripted, there was a teleprompter. And I just said, “Just leave it empty because I’ll just make it up. I know what’s going on.” Because I was researching. I had found the internet in ’87, ’88, and I was on Gopher. I was poking around, I was looking at news groups.

Guy Kawasaki:

You were on Gopher?

Adam Curry:

Yeah, I’m on. I got a SLIP account through Panix in New York City, and I figured out how to set up that SLIP connection, and you got your PPP stack and all that stuff, and then you fire up the terminal. “Oh, okay, there it is.” And then you log into the Gopher server and check around. But I really had more fun with the newsgroups and email.

Email was phenomenal because my audience was college students who, A, didn’t count in the ratings at all, so they didn’t even know how many were watching. They were watching but they had very different ideas about what videos they liked. So I’d get feedback from them and that’s how I ultimately set up my own Gopher server and registered mtv.com to run it, and I would pitch that on the air from time to time, so people had put little stories up.

And so I typically had new stories a day before MTV News itself because I was getting it from the people out there in the country who were emailing me these stories. And then it was I think around ’90, and I got an email from a guy in University in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, and he says, “Yeah, Adam, I’ve got this thing, and I wanted to try it out.”

Guy Kawasaki:

Let me guess. A?

Adam Curry:

Yeah. Marc Andreessen. He says, “Adam, check this HTTPD server out?” I think it had like 1.4 or something. And I set it up and like…browse. I’m like, “Oh, wait a minute.” And that blew my mind. And I wound up leaving MTV maybe a year later to start my own company because I was like, “This is it. This is the real future, what’s going on here. I’m just mucking around on this cable news business or cable business.” And so yeah, that’s really how I got sucked in very, very deep, and I saw that I could be much faster, much nimbler, do more fun stuff, less restrictions online. And it was truly the Wild West.

AOL wouldn’t let you on the internet, if you recall, and people were like, “Come on, man, give us a browser, give us a browser.” And like, “Okay.” And you got that browser, and had to just click all those warnings like it’s dangerous out here, anything could happen, which is exactly what you wanted. And after that, AOL became a dial up company. Everything got sucked into the internet. It was beautiful. It was really an exciting time.

Guy Kawasaki:

Okay. Only one more question back in MTV days because we got to make the transition to the web here. Were you there when Michael Jackson required that everybody call him the King of Pop?

Adam Curry:

Yes. This is one of my favorite stories. So there were many deals that were made, and they typically revolved around the Video Music Awards. So if you wanted to have an artist of stature appear, then you maybe would have to play some other video by the same label, or some other favors were made, deals we’re done. And Michael Jackson, he was going to perform, and we had a whole Michael Jackson weekend planned around the premiere of his latest video, I don’t remember what that was, and of course teasing that he would be on the Video Music Awards.

And the way it worked on MTV is you tape on Thursday; you tape for Friday and Saturday… Wait. On Thursday, you tape for Friday, Friday, you tape Saturday, Sunday, something like that. Somehow we threw in a Monday somewhere. But we wouldn’t work on the weekend, but it was the weekend.

So we all did our bits, forty-eight hours’ worth of programming. And then I got a call Friday night like, “Y’all got to come in tomorrow because someone messed up.” The deal was every single time you say Michael Jackson, it had to go Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. I don’t even know if Michael Jackson cared, but we reshot the whole weekend just to make sure we didn’t screw anything up with that deal. That’s how political it was when it came to the deals. But it was all for the good. We wanted Michael Jackson to be on the show, I guess, but there was some grumbling.

Guy Kawasaki:

I can just imagine. Let’s get out of MTV days. We already touched on this a little bit, but tell us about this getting on the web. What a concept, right? How did that happen? How are you this early adopter, this pioneer of the web?

Adam Curry:

Well, I’ve always been a tinkerer. So my love of radio started when I was thirteen. I got a… and I still have it… Radio Shack 101 projects, and it’s a breadboard and it has components; you connect them with different length wires and stuff. And so that’s how I built my first transmitter, my FM transmitter, and that’s how I kind of fell into radio because I needed something to play on my transmitter, and before I knew it, I was building a mixer and understanding how to mix in a microphone, etc.

So my dad actually, we were living in Europe, and he was into all kinds of PR stuff, but it was online, and the first thing he brought home was a Minitel terminal from France. And France was very, very sophisticated early on. Every household had this little terminal and it was meant for hotel reservations or restaurant reservations and some news, etc. Turns out it was being used by sex workers a lot, so they had to scuttle the project at some point because there was a message board thing.

So my dad had all these weird computers and the one that I really grabbed hold of was the Sinclair ZX80, which was basically this plastic keyboard with a module on the back, which was the RF modulator that hooked into the TV and you could write and load programs through a cassette. But I worked part time at a computer store on weekends, and a buddy of mine who I think he might have had the Commodore VIC-20 at that point, but we built our own modems, our own acoustic modems.

So we ripped apart old phones and we put them in little boxes, so you could put the phone cradle right on top, and it worked, I want to say like three baud a minute or a second, whatever, but it worked. And so that was kind of my introduction, then bulletin boards and that kind of thing that followed. And then I put everything aside as my radio and television career started when I was nineteen in the Netherlands. And then when I got to the States in ’87, the first thing I did is I went to 47th Street Photo…

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh, my God.

Adam Curry:

…and I bought a Mac Plus with a scuzzy external hard drive, twenty megabytes, with that big scuzzy cable, remember to terminate. You could plug an RV into that thing. It was so much power. And the 1,200 baud modem, and I was using it for CompuServe, because I discovered CompuServe by then, I thought that was phenomenal. Prodigy was coming around, around that time, I think, that was a Sears deal. But all of this stuff was nothing because I kept hearing people say, “The internet, man, the internet. It’s impossible to get on but all the cool kids are there.”

And so I just fooled around night after night until I finally got a dial up account with Panix New York, figured out how to get the TCP/IP stack running, and I was off to the races. And from there, as I said, it just progressed into the web.

A guy from Sun Microsystems, Karl Jacob, who later… I think he’s still an advisor… He might have been on the Facebook board at some point. But he was at Sun and he said, “Check this out, Adam.” And at this time, I had a 56K frame relay in my house, “Look out, I’m cooking with gas now.” And so he streams a sound file from San Francisco to my computer in New Jersey. I’m like, “That’s it, man. Why am I mucking around on this cable business? This is where I got to be.”

And so literally, I finished the number one video on the Top Twenty Countdown, and I said, “That’s it. I’m leaving MTV. I’m going to start my own company. I’m going to do something on the internet. I don’t know what it is, but that’s where the future is, and I’m done and I’m out.” And I left and I never looked back.

Went right to my radio syndicators and started a company called OnRamp, and the first thing we did was this Fifty-sixth Annual Grammy Awards, we did what we call the cyber cast, with two sponsors, VISA and Casio. Casio was sponsoring because they’d just come out with digital cameras that you could connect via a serial cable to your computer so you could then upload the photos. And we were using CU-SeeMe video, hello, one frame a second, and it was a tremendous success.

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh my God.

Adam Curry:

And we even brought a T1 line into the Shrine Auditorium, and it was cowboy stuff. It was really crazy. But it was all East Coast, right? It wasn’t until I met the West Coast guys that I really understood how nuts the world was. And that’s where I met such luminaries as Marc Canter, and Dave Winer, and John C. Dvorak, John Perry Barlow, and I really didn’t know that much about the culture of Silicon Valley and computers other than the thing I held in my hands. So these are like profits, man. I was like, “Wow, there’s a whole another thing going on out here.”

In fact, I was still at MTV I think, and Halsey Minor gets in touch with me, he said, “We’ve got this thing which is a pilot called CNET. Come on out.” I’m like, “Okay.” So I go, and they had an idea, they brought in Kevin Wendell, a top… He helped build the Fox Network, not Fox News, but the Fox television station network, and they were going to do like a cable channel or something called CNET, and they had a whole bunch of people in just shooting all weekend long.

I said, “This should be an internet thing, really.” He says, “Oh, yeah, good idea. What should we do?” I said, “Well, do you have cnet.com?” “No.” “All right. Hold on a second.” I register cnet.com. I ran their email for at least a year, IMAP or POP3 email boxes for them. They never had an idea that it was going to be seen at the computer network the way it turned out to be.

So there were all these things I was just coming across, but that really enamored me with… If you sit down with Marc Canter and he’s smoking some weed, man, you can listen to that guy for hours like, “Wow, these guys are nuts.” And so that’s how I kind of started to learn about, again, the tinkering side, RSS. This is what I learned from Dave Winer. He was building microblogging, really, he was building RSS and the aggregator, and Marc had his multimedia stuff, and all of these different things happening.

Meanwhile, I moved to Amsterdam at the end of ’99, to go back. I had a Dutch wife and she wanted to be near her parents, and they had cable modems. Now, this was cool because cable modems was not fast or anything, but it was always on. You didn’t have to dial up, you didn’t have to tie up a phone line. Napster was just happening, so people were like, “Holy crap. I’m sharing all this stuff and I’m literally poking inside someone’s hard drive and pulling mp3 files out, and it’s all kind of working, but it was also slow.”

And that’s when I came up… I wrote a blog post called The Last Yard, and I had this idea that since the computer was always on, why couldn’t we just have the video file that you absolutely want to see instead of the experience of the day, which was click, wait, wait, download, click open up with another program, the real player starts to jerk open, all this stuff that was a crap. I said, “Well, wouldn’t it be great if there’s some program that would run in the background, something I wanted to see was ready, would download it, but then would tell me later,” because once it’s downloaded, then it’s just one click, it plays. So what I don’t know won’t hurt me. That was my whole concept.

And somehow, when Dave… and I was very involved, because I loved his product, Radio UserLand, I said, “Well, this is a two-way system. You create an RSS feed on the blog, and I aggregate it, and I can read it on my end. Why don’t we do like a file attachment?” But it wasn’t that simple. I had to go fly to New York and I had to explain to him what I was talking about, and I think he probably thought I was a schmuck.

Like, “What’s this Hollywood guy doing here telling me what to do?” But he saw it, he saw the light. And I think by the time I was back in Europe, he had kind of coded it in. And for two years we were testing this functionality, just going back and forth and like, “Oh, cool. There’s another 100 megabyte file that Dave uploaded last night in San Francisco, and I don’t have to download it. I click, it plays right away.” It was all kind of fun, for me at least.

Dave was working with Chris Lydon. I know that they had done some stuff for his radio program, but when I saw the iPod, yeah, that’s when it all came together. I’m like, “Ah.” Because I looked at the iPod, and that was not a digital Walkman or whatever people were saying, I looked at it and I said, “That is almost exactly like the Sony transistor radio my grandmother gave me when I was seven years old that I have under the pillow, it was the same size.” I said, “This is a radio, it’s a radio receiver.” And now we can have the radio shows… subscribe was the word of the time… you subscribe, and then this little program is going to look for the new episodes or whatever. We were calling it episodes, I think. And it’ll download it and put it on your iPod and Bob’s your uncle. And that’s where we started. Literally, that’s where we started.

And I’d started doing The Daily Source Code, which was a daily podcast. We didn’t even know what it was called at the time, and the whole point of The Daily Source Code was, I was talking about what the developers were building because they were building more radios. Ii was like, “Oh, the iPod Rex, and iPod Lemon and all these.” We didn’t have apps, we didn’t have phones or anything. My God, the tools we have now is so unbelievable compared to then. So yeah, and so that just took off real fast. I mean, people grabbed hold. I say that to Tony Kahn from WGBH, he was quite instrumental, unsung hero because he really pulled NPR into the game early, early on, and he was pushing them very hard. And that really gave it legitimacy, and yeah, it grew so fast. It was only a number of years.

Guy Kawasaki: I've

So people have applied the moniker “podfather” to you. Is that accurate? Are you the father of podcasting? Well, then what’s Dave Winer? Is he the mother?

(Ran out of Tumblr space, visit this site)

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/gameday-central-nebraska-34-illinois-33-halftime-sports/

Gameday Central: Nebraska 34, Illinois 33; Halftime | Sports

Beat writer Scott Richey will be providing updates all night long as Illinois takes on Nebraska. You can follow along right here:

Tweets by srrichey

***

Brad Underwood didn’t know Ayo Dosunmu had messed around and got a triple-double last Saturday against Wisconsin until SID Derrick Burson told him as he left the court.

“I had no clue,” Underwood said.

Mostly because, even for a rarity like a triple-double, it was still a bit under the radar. Dosunmu’s 21 points came on just 12 shots. Efficient.

Underwood was most impressed by Dosunmu’s defense and rebounding.

“I told Ayo (Wednesday) in practice, ‘Don’t run away from success,'” Underwood said. “The 12 rebounds and the guarding made that game look easy. When you do those things, it’s amazing how the game just finds you. It finds Ayo very easily on the offensive end when he does those other things. He becomes a one-man fast break. He has the capability at his size to go get double-digit rebounds. Then he’s got length to guard.

“That’s the challenge with Ayo. He never has to worry about the other end. The game will find him when he does those other things. That was an easy triple-double because it didn’t stand out. I had no clue. Usually I’m pretty dialed in. I had no clue until Derrick told me after the game.”

Suited up for some Friday action. #Illini | #EveryDayGuys pic.twitter.com/d5oHlXNPrN

— Illinois Basketball (@IlliniMBB) February 13, 2021

***

Want to know more about this Nebraska team? Then check out these offerings from Nebraska media:

Tipoff in an hour between Nebraska and Illinois. The Huskers, with 52 TOs in 3 games, are considering big changes to their approach. https://t.co/QXMgvB1VP7@dirkchatelain has the game coverage for ya tonight. I’ll handle the three roadies and the home show next weekend. pic.twitter.com/kLQbzppnWC

— Sam McKewon (@swmckewonOWH) February 13, 2021

The Big Ten was once the league that postponed its football season for two months out of concern for athlete well-being.Now it’s the league cramming eight games in 14 days for Nebraska basketball.That doesn’t sit right with @tomshatelOWH https://t.co/dXGk0lLnua

— World-Herald Big Red (@OWHbigred) February 12, 2021

Despite the losses, despite the poor shooting, Fred Hoiberg said he isn’t worried about his team getting down on themselves. #Huskers have played with energy in their first three games back. But the offense just has to get better.

— Chris Basnett (@HuskerExtraCB) February 11, 2021

Here is what you need to know going into #Nebrasketball’s home game against No. 6 Illinois tonight at 8 p.m.https://t.co/F5ph5c20Uq

— Robin Washut (@RobinWashut) February 12, 2021

***

If you missed today’s story about Adam Miller and how the freshman guard has grown as a defender this season, you can take a few minutes to check it out right now.

Then here’s a little more from Brad Underwood on that subject: “He’s become one of those guys I trust as a very, very good defender. Ace is going to be a great, great two-way player in his career. A guy who can really do it at both ends of the court. A great passer. He’s got great vision and a high IQ, and a guy, again, that’s really blossoming. He’s no longer a freshman. He’s blossoming into a veteran college basketball player.”

Agree with @clubtrillion and @tatefrazier on how these fanbases are feeling? 🤔 pic.twitter.com/NwzQ5vlmtQ

— FOX College Hoops (@CBBonFOX) February 12, 2021

***

Are you as hyped as @kxng_alpha for Game Day? #Illini | #EveryDayGuy pic.twitter.com/sMprDlRfJd

— Illinois Basketball (@IlliniMBB) February 12, 2021

The last time Illinois took the court some pretty special things happened. Ayo Dosunmu put up just the third triple-double in program history. Kofi Cockburn had another double-double. And the Illini beat Wisconsin in Champaign for the first time in a decade.

But that 75-60 victory wasn’t perfect. Allow Illinois coach Brad Underwood to explain (mostly about his team’s 18 turnovers).

“We fumbled six balls where it just hit our hands,” Underwood said. “We weren’t clean. Two guys played really well. We didn’t play very well as a team in terms of the cleanness and execution and timing.

“We’re seventh in the country in (offensive efficiency). There’s still room to improve there. Baseline out of bounds is a big concern because Kofi draws so many fouls. We have a lot of baseline out of bounds. We’ve got to be better there. We’ve got to continue on our free throw shooting.

“Then on the defensive side we’ve jumped. We’ve made great strides there and we’re 13th in (defensive efficiency) now. That needs to be top 10 to get where we’re going. We’re still making some rotation mistakes.”

***

Your browser does not support the audio element.

This wasn’t the game Illinois though it would be playing this week. The Illini were supposed to get a chance to narrow Michigan’s lead atop the Big Ten standings. A win in Ann Arbor, Mich., on winning percentage alone, wouldn’t have seen Illinois jump the Wolverines but a two-win advantage for the Illini could have proven crucial.

Then Michigan bowed out. The Wolverines’ “return-to-play planning” wouldn’t allow for a game Thursday night. They’ll try Sunday against Wisconsin instead.

(Side note: The Michigan women’s team, facing the same layoff as the men’s team, played Thursday at Purdue. The No. 12 Wolverines won by 13 points).

Anyway, Illinois still managed to get a game this week. No 10-day break — again. The Illini’s winning streak will instead be on the line at Nebraska. A game in Lincoln, Neb., on Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. Advantage … somebody?

Does the fact today is Abraham Lincoln’s birthday mean more for the #Illini (shoutout to Honest Abe, the 16th President with all those State of Illinois ties)? Or more for the #Huskers, who play in Lincoln, Neb.? These are the places my brain often goes.

— Scott Richey (@srrichey) February 12, 2021

The real advantage, of course, is Illinois is the No. 6 team in the nation with two legitimate All-American candidates in junior guard Ayo Dosunmu (if he’s not on the First Team I’ll have lost faith in my fellow AP voters) and sophomore center Kofi Cockburn (he’ll be on one of the three teams, book it).

Not to mention the fact Nebraska hasn’t won a Big Ten game in more than 13 months. The last came on Jan. 7, 2020, and has since been followed by 24 consecutive losses in conference play.

Illinois is the favorite. A clear favorite. It’s not Michigan, but this is still a game the Illini need to win to keep chasing that Big Ten title (and a higher seed in the NCAA tournament).

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[junker-town]

The case for LaMelo Ball as the No. 1 player in the 2020 NBA Draft

This is why LaMelo Ball should be the top pick in the NBA draft.

LaMelo Ball’s whirlwind basketball journey hit its first critical tipping point back in preschool, when his now infamous father realized the youngest of his three sons was going to miss playing with his older brothers in high school by a year. So LaVar Ball decided LaMelo would start first grade early, setting into motion one of the most fabled youth basketball careers in the history of the sport.

Ball first gained national attention as the 5’10 high school freshman on Chino Hills’ undefeated state champion who would launch outlet passes and deep jump shots with no remorse over players twice his size. As his brother Lonzo moved onto UCLA the next year, Ball became a phenomenon: pointing to the spot on the floor where he would drain his halfcourt threes, scoring 92 points in a single game, and even getting Stephen Curry to marvel at his confidence.

Things got a little strange after that: following the release of his own signature shoe, Ball dropped out of high school ahead of his junior year, turned pro in Lithuania, came back to the states to star in his father’s fledgling professional league for teenagers, then played a year at Spire Academy in Ohio alongside several other future pros. Somewhere in there he played an AAU game against Zion Williamson in Las Vegas that was streamed by millions of people and created such a chaotic environment inside the gym LeBron James had to be turned away at the door.

After spending a year as a pro in Australia, Ball is set to enter the 2020 NBA Draft as perhaps the most naturally talented player in the class. The 6’7 point guard is the product of the route that led him here, still playing with the same streetball sizzle that came from backyard battles with his older brothers, still channeling the spirit of Chino Hills with every ambitious full-court pass and pull-up three. At his best, it feels like Ball plays the game with a hint of clairvoyance, seeing openings and opportunities lesser players wouldn’t dare to notice. If his path to the NBA is unlike any the league has ever seen, it has still played a critical component in making him the player he is today.

Ball is the No. 1 player on our 2020 draft board. This is why.

Ball has rare passing and playmaking skill

The case for Ball as the top prospect in the 2020 draft begins with the acknowledgment that no NBA archetype has more value than the lead initiator of a top offense, and that Ball has the greatest potential in the class to turn into exactly that. Start with the size: at 6’7 and perhaps still growing, Ball might be the league’s tallest pure point guard (read: a player who also defends point guards) from the moment he’s drafted, and he’s able to leverage that height to accentuate his gifted creation ability.

Ball’s passing and playmaking is an extraordinary skill that registers a cut above where his older brother was at out of college. Ball doesn’t pass to open guys — he passes guys open. He sees angles that no one else would see, and has the audacity and the self-belief to think every dime will lead to an easy bucket.

Ball is able to find open teammates in part because he keeps the basketball on a string as a dribbler. While he doesn’t have the quickest first step, Ball is able to get past defenders with hang dribbles and hesitations, often linking together multiple crossover moves that feel like he’s hitting a combo in a video game. He does well to keep the ball low to the ground despite his height, and has a singular ability to deliver no-look passes with either hand off a live dribble.

Ball’s facilitating is equally exquisite in transition and the halfcourt. Here’s a cut of some of his best playmaking moments:

Ball’s comfort and skill in the open floor dates back to his Chino Hills days, and it’s easy to see the influence that style of play still has on him. His eyes are always looking up the court and his arm is always ready to throw a football pass to an open teammate. Even when he attacks in transition, his dazzling ball handling has a way of sucking in defenders trying to stop the ball, only to lose open shooters at the rim or in the corners.

As a halfcourt initiator, Ball has a great sense of timing in the pick-and-roll, using his height and his handle to caress openings out of the defense. He will make the speculator pass that stops you in your tracks, but he will also make the sensible one, slinging rockets to a stretch big on the pick-and-pop or dropping in a perfect entry feed.

Ball’s passing skill deserves every scouting cliche in the lexicon: it really is that elite and there are moments when it feels truly special. More than anything, Ball’s facilitating is innate: you couldn’t teach another player to play like this, because no one else can see what LaMelo sees.

Ball will be able to score a bit, too

A great offensive initiator can’t just be a passer — they have to be able to put pressure on the defense with their own scoring ability, as well. Ball has natural scoring ability, too, even if he’s still learning how to pick his spots and become as efficient as possible while still playing his game.

The numbers on Ball’s scoring were not pretty across his 13 games in Australia: he shot 38.9 percent from the field, 27.9 percent from three, and finished with a 47.9 true shooting percentage. Those numbers won’t be good enough in the NBA, but they were also indicative of an 18-year-old playing against grown men while still figuring out how to use all the tools at his disposal.

The individual components of Ball’s scoring package look stronger than the sum of their parts. Ball can finish at the rim, he can shoot with range off the dribble, he can hit floaters that are wildly ambitious. Shot selection remains an issue, just as it always has been. But when Ball is cooking, he looks like the type of scorer with a deep bag of tricks who can generate his own look whenever he wants.

Here’s a cut of Ball as a scorer, showcasing his deep shooting, his finishing, and his float game:

Ball’s finishing touch is impressive — another area of his game that is benefitted by his height. He’s able to score at the rim over smaller guards and has the length to extend past rotating big men, too. While Ball will often go into his shot attempt too far from the rim, he is skilled at finishing when he gets in close. He will ideally become a more fearless driver as he gains muscle and fills out his body. His ability to consistently draw fouls and get to the line will be a swing factor in how he progresses as a scorer in the league.

The most unique part of Ball’s scoring package is his penchant to take floaters, a skill honed playing against older competition in his youth. While he settles for this shot too often in a failure to get all the way to the rim, Ball’s floater can be a devastating weapon. He will shoot it from 20-feet out at times, and does well to square his body to the rim when he launches himself into it. The floater feels like it could be Ball’s signature move down the road, but some teams will likely try to coach him to be less reliant on it.

Then there’s shooting, sure to be Ball’s most dissected skill in the pre-draft process. While Ball’s percentage was low, it belies his comfort level shooting deep threes off the dribble. The pull-up three is perhaps the most essential move for a high-level guard to have in his repertoire. While some of Ball’s attempts will make his coaches cringe, there’s a long-term benefit to getting so many live reps against pros at such a young age. Ball certainly has natural touch from deep. As he learns to control his shot selection and improve his balance on deep jumpers, this shot should be a big part of his game and a clear path towards pushing his ceiling as high as it can go.

Ball will likely never be a primary scorer for a great team, but he can score enough to make his playmaking even more effective. That’s all the NBA can ask.

The defense is an issue for now, but not totally a lost cause

The yeah, but with Ball will often focus on his defense. This is not entirely unfair: Ball can be inattentive and lazy on the defensive end, occasionally appearing to take possessions off while losing track of his man by ball watching. The learning curve defensively is going to be sky-high for Ball when he enters the NBA. Teams will attack him early in his career. But if you look closer, there’s a good chance Ball can be an impact defender down the line.

Defense could be the best area for Ball to model himself off his older brother. While Lonzo Ball still lacks strength and rarely acts as an on-ball stopper, he has become one of the NBA’s better defensive point guards by being a great team defender. The basketball IQ that shines through on offense can also appear on defense, giving the Ball brothers a sense of when and how to rotate to play defense on a string.

The vision of LaMelo Ball as a quality defender might take a few years to happen. As his body develops — it appears he has a better build to add muscle than his brother — he’s going to be a long 6’7 defender who should be able to stop three positions as a rotation defender. Ball already has quick hands (2.43 steal rate) and has flashed sharp help instincts when he’s dialed in. The issue is that too often he isn’t dialed in.

Defense will be a work in progress for Ball, but it could be a big part of his game down the line.

Why Ball is the top prospect in the draft

Because of his father’s decision early in his life to push him to play with his brothers in high school, Ball is one of the youngest prospects in this draft, not turning 19 years old until Aug. 22. Youth is a huge factor in the evaluation of a prospect’s upside. For Ball to have so many impressive games in Australia — he ended his stint on consecutive triple-doubles before a foot injury cut his season short — at such a young age against pros is a positive sign for his long-term growth.

Combine his youth with his size, his elite skill as a playmaker, and his potential as a scorer and defender, and Ball has the highest ceiling to be an impact star of any player in the 2020 draft class. That is why he should be the first pick.

Ball’s scoring efficiency is a real issue. Will he be coachable? How will veteran teammates respond to his shot selection and his most ambitious passes? Will shaky defense early in his career prevent him from getting regular minutes? A bet on Ball in the draft isn’t one made with the present in mind. It’s to believe that, after years of NBA coaching and strength training, his natural talent will continue to evolve and give him a skill set that makes him a unique force among lead guards in the game today.

Ball feels like he’s already spent a lifetime in the spotlight. The level of fame he experienced at a such a young age could sabotage a lesser player, but Ball appears to take it in stride. It’s all he’s ever known. The 13-year-old taking halfcourt shots for Chino Hills has come a long way, and he still has so much room to grow. It’s impossible to separate Ball from his origin story, but it’s a big reason why he’s here today. It feels like we’ve watched LaMelo Ball forever — but in reality, he’s just getting started.

[myrish-lace-love]

Me again! Why do all conversations come back to sex? Also - it's safe to assume all my prompts are for Jon x Sansa 😁👍😘💕

Thanks for the prompt @lathwell55! 

Summary: Jon and Sansa are residents going through a rotation at a university health clinic. Sansa has a crush on Jon, and finally works up the courage to flirt with him. Her first line is a disaster, but she learns Jon feels the same way. Tyrion Lannister ships them.

***

“Why do all conversations come back to sex?” Sansa kept a close eye on Jon as she casually leaned against the counter in the lab room.

“Maybe because we work at a university health clinic? Bunch of young, sexually active patients?” Jon said absently, scratching the bridge of his nose.

Never had “sexually active” sounded more like a weather report.

Sansa sighed. So much for Margaery’s idea of trying to get Jon to flirt with her during the few brief moments alone they got during the day. It was an unlikely idea in the first place. Jon was dialed in to his rotation as a resident.

And if she was honest, she charged through the day too. Making rounds, ordering tests, pouring over the results.  Having fraught conversations with people who had serious medical conditions. The hours flew by, and she was usually asleep two minutes after her head hit her pillow.

Yep, the hours flew by. Not so much, though, that she was immune to how handsome Jon was in his lab coat.“Sansa, could you come look at this?” Jon was frowning at his computer screen.Any excuse to get closer to her clueless, gorgeous coworker.Sansa clicked through the images. “It’s the new flu strain, all right.”Jon rubbed his chin. “So we’re probably in for a wave of it then.”Sansa nodded. “Looks like it. Overtime, in our future.”It meant more time with Jon, at least. Time she refused to waste pining over him.“Thanks Sansa.” Jon pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled at her. Sansa felt her knees go weak.

Read more below or continue on AO3

He adjusts his glasses and you can’t handle it?

But they’re hot doctor glasses, she thought.Yeah, right. They’d have that label if she took them off. Embossed right on the side.Nope, she was just a goner.She took a deep breath. “So um, would you like to go out for coffee with me sometime when we’re both free?”She had to be specific. Last time, when she’d tentatively asked Jon if he could go for coffee he’d smiled and taken off. He came back five minutes later with her favorite drink from Starbucks and slipped it into her hand without a word.She’d stood there with the latte in her hand at the front desk, unaware of the crowded hallway. Thwarted again.

It took a nurse tapping her pointedly on the shoulder to get her to snap out of it.

Today, hopefully, she’d been crystal clear.

Jon paused. Sansa could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She’d never believed that was actually a thing, until she met him.

“I’m not good at this, Sansa,” he said softly, and her stomach sank.“No worries, I get it, it was just an idea. Forget I said anything.” She’d made her move, he’d turned her down, and they had overtime to spend together in the next few weeks.Outstanding.She grabbed her charts and was about to head to her 3:30 when Jon spoke again.“No, Sansa, wait, please, if you could?” She was surprised to see Jon was flushed.

Couldn’t he just let her slink off and be embarrassed? She wasn’t a baby, she could deal with it.

Then she saw Jon fiddle with his pen. He only did that when he was nervous. She’d picked that up. You know, in passing.  Like how she knew he was an early riser and biked to work and treated their most frustrating patients with gentleness and-Ugh, this was pathetic.“Yes Jon?” She kept her voice bright. “What’s up?” Why are you putting me through this? “I’m - I’m not good at dating people casually.”

She’d been about to launch into another line about how it was no big deal when he drew her up short.

“I couldn’t date you casually, because….” He met her eyes. “Because I really care about you. You make people laugh and you showed me the ropes when we started and you’re kind and you’re headed to being a huge success, I’d bet money on it. I’m just a guy. Just a guy who will cross paths with you for a few months and then you’ll be off, on another rotation, and this is really selfish, but it would hurt too much, to be near you and get to know you better and fall for you even harder and then watch you leave.”Sansa blinked.  It took her a minute to absorb Jon’s speech. She’d never heard him say so many words at once.

Fall for me even harder?

That had taken courage, on his part, she thought. And now, she had reason to believe they might be on the same page.

Take it easy with him. “Wow. We’ve already dated and I’ve already left you behind and we haven’t even started? Look, you’re smart too, Jon, you are, stop shaking your head, it’s true, and nothing’s for certain. We know that.”

They did, better than most. Sometimes the bad news they had to deliver was devastating.

Sansa remembered how Jon hadn’t asked her any questions, just put his arm around her, after she’d had to tell that young man Willas that his spine was damaged, and he likely wouldn’t walk again.Jon nodded, once.  “We do. That’s true.”“So…” Sansa reached for his hand, couldn’t quite bring herself to take it. “Take a chance on me? While we’re here? It’s taken me two months to work up the courage to be really upfront about it, you know.”Jon’s eyes went wide. “You’re serious?”

“Do you see me asking the other guys out for coffee?” She’d turned down plenty of offers, of course. Joffrey Baratheon had been especially persistent. And nasty.

Jon slowly took her hand. “No. No I don’t. Just…I need a second, Sansa, I have to unwind the knots I’ve worked myself into over this.”

When he looked up at her again his eyes were dark, and he was smiling.

His hand was warm, and firm, and felt like it was made for hers.

***

Dr. Tyrion Lannister caught Sansa in the hall.

“Five cases of that flu strain confirmed already. You and Jon will be putting in some long hours.”

Sansa hid her smile. “We’re ready, Doctor.”

Tyrion squinted at her. “Yes, I can see you are. Had the talk then? Expect you initiated it.”

Sansa closed her mouth after a minute.

“Hardly the first workplace romance I’ve seen, Sansa.” He scanned and signed paperwork a nervous intern brought him without giving the girl a glance.  

“I’m supposed to warn you off. Can be bad for morale. Patients first, and all that.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Sansa caught a glimpse of Jon out of the corner of her eye, on the way to his next appointment. Tyrion called out to him.

“Ah. Jon. Come here.“ He waved Jon over.   “So much less pining in the air now. We were all uncomfortable. Smelled like a forest.”

Sansa shot Jon a look that said roll with it.

“There’s a broom closet in the south hallway,” Tyrion murmured as he checked his schedule. “Usually unoccupied. Might want to make a note of it.”

Jon stared at Tyrion as he strode off.

Sansa took his hand. “Maybe coffee first?”

Jon squeezed it. “Um, yeah.”

***

The broom closet did, eventually, come in handy though.

[sportsmansteelsafes]

How to Choose the Best Gun Safe

Some people need guns to protect themselves, their property, and especially their families. Yet, the last thing we need is a faulty gun safe. The gun safes that need to be open when we apply the keys, fingertips, or palms (such biometric safes) in order to retrieve our guns or pistols need to be the best overall.

When we are looking for the best gun safe that meets our budget and expectations, the fact is we want the best of the best. There are those that are made from cheap manufacturers, not delivering what is needed. Some get jammed, lock us out from our safes, some simply are not worth the price by being readily available to anyone who attempts to open it.

Here is a case-scenario:

It was a cold autumn evening, John and his wife were going out for the evening to celebrate their 10-year anniversary at a local five-star restaurant. As they were waiting for the sitter, they were preparing for the night's evening in their bedroom. They were ecstatic since they rarely were able to get out and away from the kids when, suddenly, they heard a loud "bang" coming from the basement. Their 12-year-old son fatally shot himself while mesmerizing over one of the loaded guns his father had; his son managed to "pry-out" the gun while in the basement.

It happens often across the world and the majority of these incidents could be prevented if the gun had been locked up and secured in a gun safe that was secured enough if they had chosen the best gun safe on the market. Some of the best gun safes are available at guns shops, gun shows, or online.

Investing in a Biometric Gun Safe, for instance, for the sole purpose of preventing an accidental disengagement, or someone retrieving it without consent, could have saved this boy's life, including thousands of lives around the world.

Since January 27, 2016, children under 12 yrs. old have died from accidental, or intentional, gunshot wounds every other day because of guns being left out by a family member, or a friend's parents, in the United States.

Things to consider when buying a gun safe

The size and the weight

The heavier the safe the harder it will be to carry off from your property.

Gun experts suggest the weight of a safe should be considered when searching for the best gun safe; for example, the biometric rifle safe. These can range approximately up to 2500 lbs.

Another is a gun safe that weighs about 750-lbs. which is the right weight because not only does it appropriately fit in a good space, where it's not too big nor small, but, it too can't be carried off from your property too easily.

Wall Thickness and shell strength

A safe with a strong exterior can prevent "break-ins". The thickness of the safe protects itself from fires that can accidentally happen while at the same time protecting the pistols, guns, rifles, or accessories in the interior. So, some of the best gun safes are minimum of 10-gauge walls of steel. These are two main reasons why you should choose one that has a strong "shell" and "wall-thickness" that will prevent it from thieves as well as fires.

How Quickly Does It Need to Open?

Besides the construction of the guns or pistol safe, the locks need to be sturdy enough to be locked so no one can pry them open. But, what if you need to get to your gun quickly?

The fact is technology has made these gun safes faster and quicker to get into by the gun owner, but what happens if you have one that locks with combos and keys?

The three main gun safes: Gun Safes with Biometric locks, Gun Safes with Combination locks, Gun Safes with Keyed locks.

Here is a more detailed description of these types.

Gun safes with biometric locks

These work with the touch of their finger or palm of your hand. Your fingerprint or handprint is the "key" to open the safe. They are great because you don't have to open them up with keys while in a state of panic. It only takes a touch of a finger or the press of your thumb on the scan pad so it reads your "finger print". Yes, your fingerprint is the key.

In fact, it is the fingerprint that's "coded" in a digital format as opposed to the digital code which normally opens up the safe. Similar to the fingerprint scanned by police authorities database when they "book a criminal into a jail" facility. When searching for a criminal, the criminal's fingerprint, which should be already in a criminal database, will match up if he/she has ever been booked.

The good thing: there are no two fingers that are identical much like a snowflake; there are no two snowflakes that are alike.

Nevertheless, biometric gun safes can prevent someone from stealing your guns during a home-burglary. There are thousands of reported crimes that involve guns being used by criminals who stole the firearms from registered or licensed gun owners during a home burglary or home invasion. Hence, you don't want your gun being used by criminals and then come to find out it was used for a crime you didn't commit.

Although, there has been times when these types of safes that have had electronic faulty instances while trying to open. Make sure when choosing one, you get it from a good manufacturer, brand and great reviews. The great thing is that they do have backup keys, nevertheless, if all else fails.

Gun safes with combination locks

There are those pistol safes or gun safes that have an electronic and mechanical combination lock. The electronic ones have a programmable code. With these type of locks, they require a non-numbered or numbered keypad.

On the other hand, the mechanical combination locks need to be activated with the classic rotating dials; where they have to have a particular sequence, like left to 18, then right to 15, then left to 1,... for instance. Additionally, there are those that you simply need to press the numbered or non-numbered buttons in a particular sequence.

Gun safes with keyed locks

These are the classic gun safes where you simply insert a key and twist it. The key-type locks rarely "malfunction" and the only flaw that would be potentially threatening is that you lose your key and you never made a spare one; plus, someone can make a duplicate of your key during a home invasion or during a home invasion, you may go into a panic while trying to open the safe and miss the key-hole because of shaking or being frantic. These can be cheap gun safes, but just as good as the higher priced ones.

PRICES, prices, prices: what's my budget?

All the gun safes have a variety of prices depending on the size, brand, manufacturer, type of gun safe... to name a few, but, one thing to recognize is that you need to take your budget in consideration.

Normally, you don't want to spend more than you can afford, especially if this is your first gun safe. Shopping for the right priced one is going to be a tough bargain, although, it's worth it once you choose the right one.

There are cheap gun safes that work just as good as the expensive pistol safes. Which one you choose is up to you; only you should choose the one that fits your budget, bottom line.

Best Bet, write down the Pros and Cons

Since gun laws recently have been modified U.S., carrying them can make them easy accessible to robberies, thieves, and even other gun owners. In other words, making them easier for the public to obtain them, gun-owners should think about the safety of having them in their homes locked.

When choosing one, thinking about how you're going to store it, plus, making it difficult for anyone to retrieve it, besides the gun-owner himself is always something to consider.

Simply keeping someone from harming themselves if they see it laying around the house is the additional reason why owners of guns should invest in a chosen one that will work for you.

Considering that this is what you're going to use to save you and your family's life if you ever have to use it, but also knowing that you'll have quick access to the key or codes during a state of panic.

They all have their pros and cons; but, only you know what you are able to do during the time of need. So, choosing the best gun safe according to your abilities is best.

Bottom Line

Finally, remember there are many brands, prices, designs, styles, and sizes... although choosing one can be easier when you write down all the pros and cons for the best ones you can afford, then narrowing it down it down may be the safest bet.

[jacewilliams1]

A memorable seaplane flight on San Francisco Bay

Only the topmost parts of the red-orange towers forming the suspension for the huge cables of the Golden Gate Bridge were visible above the rolling white sea fog as three-lane traffic weaved its way out of San Francisco north on Highway 101. Bright sun had the city sparkling this morning and prospects were therefore good that my seaplane flight around the Bay would be possible.

Taking the Sausalito exit, I wove through back streets and ahead, a sign proclaimed, “Seaplane Flights.” I pulled over in the shade of an old wind-bent fir tree.

I walked out over a bright green lawn dotted with orange and yellow flowers and shade trees, out into the bright sun. There before me on the sun-speckled water of Sausalito Bay floated a familiar Cessna 172, white with yellow trim, perched atop two bright aluminum pontoons. The Cessna was tied to a boat cleat on the dock by a stout rope. The dock bounded with my steps as I walked up to the Cessna.

The floating dock began to sway, and I looked back to see Charlie, my instructor for the day, walking out to me. I stepped from the bobbing dock onto the scuffed aluminum pontoon. The pontoon had four black rectangles of non-skid steps. The rear of the pontoons were a cat’s cradle of stainless steel cables angling upward across pulleys and rearward toward the Cessna’s flight rudder, connected to springs about the size of a kitchen screen door on both sides of aluminum D-shaped water rudders. The rudders were rotated to the “up” position, out of the water. They are rotated back and down, controlled by a pull handle rotating on the floorboard in the cockpit, a cable pulling both rudders.

Not a bad place to learn about seaplanes.

“The water rudders are only down for taxi,” Charlie warned. “If you leave them down during takeoff or landing, they’ll be slammed up against the stops by the water and be damaged.”

I clambered into the left front seat, a long step up from the pontoon onto an intermediate step, and then an awkward maneuver around the door and into the left front pilot seat. Once there, I was right at home, just like any old Cessna. Charlie reminded me to lower my water rudders. My right hand dropped to the floor. I grasped a screwdriver-size metal handle, pulled it forward, unlatching a silver hook, then springs pulled my hand and the handle rearward about eight inches. The water rudders had now rotated down into the water behind each pontoon. I cycled them left, then right; the resistance in the water felt like moving small paddles in a canoe.

Charlie tightened our mooring line and I started the engine. He was standing on the dock holding the right door open with one hand on our wing strut. I throttled back as soon as I had a good start and Charlie bent down to untie us. He then vaulted to the pontoon as the Cessna, still at idle RPM, slowly and inexorably moved away from the dock.

I held full back pressure on the yoke to hold the bow of the pontoons up out of the chop we were now encountering as we idled out slowly into Strawberry Sound. The wind on San Francisco Bay was from the southeast, and we were at the far northwest end of the Bay.

“We’ll taxi back to the 101 bridge and then turn into the wind for takeoff. When you make your left turn I want full aileron to the right to hold the upwind wing down, and as you turn downwind remember to get full forward elevator,” Charlie instructed.

Clear of the dock, back pressure pulling the control yoke to the stops in my lap, I slowly brought the throttle up to 1,700. As I did, the engine reared us back, but even as I stabilized my RPMs at 1,700 on the tachometer dial, the nose began on its own to drop down. This was “the step.” It is the same as in your ski boat when you cease to dig ahead, bow high, and she levels out beginning to plane.

“Now ease off some of that back pressure,” Charlie said, interrupting my thoughts. “That’s too much, feel the wave slap, ease back more… now that’s perfect. Now get your pre-flight done.”

The graceful arc of the concrete Highway 101 bridge loomed ahead of our nose, 100 feet above us, beginning to fill my windshield. I maneuvered away from a big gray Sportfisherman pulling its white wake outbound from the inner harbor, and I nervously glanced over to my right at the red and white Sausalito-San Francisco Ferry coming now around Raccoon Point. Still not a factor, but I knew it pushed a giant bow wave and I wanted the Cessna in none of that.

I got equal mag drop left and right with some roughness. I interpreted this simply as carbon fouling on the sparkplugs that would burn off when I came up to full throttle. We were now about a football field’s distance away, headed under the towering bridge. I was nervous with no brakes and a following wind pressing us toward the bridge pilings. Two or three fishing boats were darting back and forth, apparently oblivious to me racing toward them on the step at about 30 mph.

You never know what you’ll see flying over the San Francisco Bay area.

I had a runway six miles wide and about 15 miles long. I accepted Charlie’s opinion. “Plenty of space to have 20 or 30 forced landings,” I thought. The end of my water airport is San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf, eight miles away.

Carb heat pulled quickly, RPM drop noted, I then cut the power, as we were virtually in the shadow of the 101 bridge. Preflight done, ready to go.

“Water rudders down,” I called, even as I moved to unlatch them, then I held back yoke, right aileron and brought up my RPMs to begin a nice easy turn around to face the open bay.

“Well done.”

Mic in hand, Charlie announced on Unicom: “Strawberry traffic, Cessna 8978 Echo on a southeast takeoff.”

“Water rudders up,” I called, cycling my yoke and controls, pressing again on the carb heat, the knobby red mixture pushed to full rich and jiggling the floor-mounted fuel selector in its “Both” detent.

In our taxi out, I noted the one- to two-inch high wavelets verifying a steady southeast wind. As a sailor, I noted patterns of cats’ paws on the bay ahead and I now pulled full back pressure with my left hand on the control yoke, reached over to select 10 degrees of takeoff flaps, and with my right hand began to ease in the black knob on the end of the throttle, full power.

Water was now moving back off my pontoons and up on the step she came. I relaxed a bit of the back pressure and the nose eased down.

Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang.

“Your nose is too low, Bill, ease some of the back pressure back in.”

Now we were smooth again and it was exactly like a powerful ski boat as spray sizzled out on either side. My automatic back pressure grip on the yoke now relaxed and with fingertips I began to search out the sweet spot for the “step” as we surfed out into the bay.

Suddenly I was aware that my pontoons were only hitting tops of waves now and then. I looked back and down and saw water and spray dripping out from the pontoons. I eased off my back pressure to accelerate in ground (water?) effect, our parallel “V” wakes, then spreading apart behind.

We were flying! The ailerons were as responsive in roll as a land plane, but the nose felt heavy as I set up my 65 mph climbing turn to the left, rolling up trim. The engine seemed to groan and labor compared to a landplane.

Ahead, San Francisco sparkled white in the clear sunshine, sailboats off to the left, Alcatraz ahead. Below, the bay angled away and I could see green islands with brown tops, most with homes. The homes clung to the edge of steep hills, cantilevered out with their green and blue swimming pools, awash in all sorts of red, purple, pink, and green flowering shrubs and fir-like trees. Obviously the daily doses of fog morning and afternoon, together with the 50-60 degree sunny days, were as invigorating to the plants as to me this fine morning.

Approaching 1,600 feet I continued my left turn around. Charlie said we would fly west then left over the fog covering the ocean, coming back to the bay over the Golden Gate. “As we come over the Golden Gate we have to be down to 1,400 to be below the ARSA,” Charlie advised. “Just pull the power back to 2,000 and use a cruise-descent.”

It never gets old.

I noted that small pitch changes resulted in greater pitch excursions because of the pressure of the airflow around the bulky pontoons. Sometimes for no reason with the aircraft; in hands-off trim, the nose would hunt upward or down and I would have to pressure it back and re-trim. For a motorboat, this was still some grand ride. I was amazed that we are allowed to overfly San Francisco because everywhere helicopters were buzzing and huge jumbo jets were straining overhead, obviously in a laborious, fat-with-fuel climb as they headed westward on a route over the Pacific.

I noted a Nippon 747 and Cathay Pacific L-1011 – all sharing their airspace with my very tiny 172. A white Princess ocean liner was at one dock, a gray canted-deck aircraft carrier was in port over in Alameda. Yellow and black ferries and red and white tour boats bustled about all over the bay, pulling their brilliant white “V” wakes. Several sailboats were out. Alcatraz brooded sullenly off by itself, a monument to the dark side of life. Part of the pain and punishment of this prison was to be so near, yet so far from the beautiful jewel of a city with its luxurious hotels, magnificent cuisine and beautiful scenery.

We shot many water landings, the interesting and delightful details of which await another story, and as all good things must end, Charlie directed me to fly through the saddle peaks on Tiburon peninsula and instructed me to turn from base to final “10 feet above the bridge.”

“Did you say ten?”

“Yes.”

 Hot dog, a legalized buzz job, I thought.

I selected carburetor heat ON and 10 degrees of flap as I came up on Highway 101, barely skimming a house cantilevered out on a small mountain and as my airspeed hit 70, I selected 20 degrees of flap, a couple of rolls of down trim and I was racing a silver and blue Greyhound Scenicruiser for an open spot on the bridge railing. The adrenaline pumped and, in a flash, I won the race, and began to settle below the bridge.

Hold it off, power back, sea level on the altimeter, 65, stall horn, hold it off, back pressure.

Shoooosh, we touched the water softly, powered to idle, water rudders down, wheel full back and we were bobbing now on the water. I allowed the wind and the idling prop to angle us ever closer to our dock, slowly, slowly, until Charlie opened his door, stepped to the dock and held the strut.

“Cut,” he called, and I pulled the mixture to idle cutoff and we were back.

The post A memorable seaplane flight on San Francisco Bay appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/07/a-memorable-seaplane-flight-on-san-francisco-bay/

[junker-town]

How the Raptors defense is making other teams see ghosts

Richard Lautens/Toronto Star via Getty Images

Zone defense, man defense, full-court press, half-court trap, it doesn’t matter. The key to the Raptors’ success is their unrelenting pressure.

Picture yourself on a haunted house ride at your favorite amusement park. You’ll be spooked by pop-out faces, fluorescent lights, and ominous sounds, but you don’t know exactly how, where, or when they will hit you. Intellectually, you know there’s nothing to really fear and you’ll eventually finish the exhibit unscathed. But as soon as you enter that front door, those rational thoughts give way to base fears that you can’t escape. You scream. You yelp. You gasp. You lose your nerve. You’re scared shitless. And you forget, for a brief moment, that the ride is all an illusion.

If this experience describes one you’ve had before, congratulations. Now you understand what it’s like to go against the Toronto Raptors’ defense, and why so many skilled teams and star players look shockingly out of their depth when they try.

You also understand why the Raptors have responded with even more vigor after losing the star that carried them to last year’s NBA title. Toronto was expected to slink back into the league’s middle class after losing Kawhi Leonard in free agency. Instead, the Raptors are two games better off than they were at this time last year and riding a 15-game winning streak, the longest of any Canadian professional sports franchise ever.

They constantly snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, no matter who’s healthy enough to suit up. The most recent example: a one-point win over conference rival Indiana in which they scored 11 straight points in the final 2:25. After watching Indiana calmly move the ball and nail scores of open threes for 45 minutes, the Raptors dialed up their pressure, deployed a full-court press, and watched the Pacers wilt.

It wasn’t the first time Toronto used unconventional methods to take teams out of their comfort zone. They deployed that same full-court press to devastating effect to overcome a 30-point third-quarter deficit against Dallas. They held LeBron James to 13 points on 5-15 shooting in a win in Los Angeles, flummoxed Damian Lillard into a 2-12 night with a mix of box-and-one and triangle-and-two zone defenses, and didn’t even let Joel Embiid score a single point in a November victory over Philadelphia. Their aggressive double-teaming of James Harden in a December game against the Rockets inspired other imitators and played a role in Houston’s decision to go all-in on small ball. Turns out the box-and-one they famously deployed against Stephen Curry in last year’s NBA Finals was merely a precursor to the “janky” defenses they’ve effectively rolled out this year.

Toronto’s adaptability is attributed to second-year coach Nick Nurse, an innovative basketball tinkerer willing to try many different defensive alignments. Nurse is indeed a creative soul, and his nonchalance at the possibility of embarrassment inspires buy-in from his players. Toronto’s roster is stocked with athletic wings and some of the smartest veterans in the league, the ideal mix to carry out Nurse’s experiments.

But ingenuity and intelligence only succeed when they’re used in service of a common purpose. That goal for the Raptors is simple: create a feeling of constant pressure that scares otherwise-poised players shitless. Zone or man, full-court or half-court, 2-3 or box-and-one, trapping or switching, hard double-teaming or softer digs down, the point is to facilitate the same kind of base fear one gets when riding a haunted house exhibit. They make you see ghosts.

“Constant pressure” does not mean sprinting directly into ball-handlers’ faces. The Raptors do attack the ball sometimes, with targeted surprise traps at opportune times. D’Angelo Russell certainly wasn’t ready for this.

But these frontline maneuvers are useless if the back line of defense isn’t moving in concert to shut down potential outlets. Every team strives to cut off drives to the basket, but the Raptors commit to the cause with all five defenders sinking deep into a shell, on or even before any move to the basket. They have two goals: clog precious driving space and cut off the most obvious escape routes a ball-handler might use when they draw multiple defenders to them.

When they accomplish both, they force offenses to be indecisive. That’s when they pounce.

To make that style work, Raptors’ extra defenders don’t actually go directly to the ball. Instead, they anticipate where the offense wants to take it and position themselves to stand in the way, or at least in the vicinity. Get past one guy, and a second is already in position to replace him while a third lurks nearby.

Every player must see the big picture to make this five-man strategy work. Luckily, Toronto’s roster is stocked with players capable of doing just that. This is not a group that gets tunnel vision on their own matchup. Instead, they happily block off potential driving lanes, as if they are human banana peels.

One downside to a collective paint-packing approach is that it leaves the perimeter relatively unguarded. The more compressed the shell, the more room for offenses to suck the defense in and deliver kickout passes for open jumpers. The league’s three-point revolution, in theory, makes these drive-and-kick easier to execute, not to mention more valuable on the scoreboard.

To solve that problem and maintain their pressure anyway, the Raptors do two things that most teams don’t.

One is that they close out incredibly aggressively to open shooters, often to the point of looking reckless. They don’t merely run shooters off the line. They catapult them off it.

This is a high-risk approach because a simple shot fake gives the offense an odd-man advantage. It can often look undisciplined and silly, so I wouldn’t recommend coaching your youth team this way. But Nurse and the Raptors find a way to make it work with their personnel and commitment.

How? Stack up enough help-and-fly recovery sequences, and suddenly the offense is wasting precious time trying to find a perfect shot that doesn’t exist. Every additional decision the offense must make to avoid or shoot against a flying closeout is another chance for them to mess up and/or hesitate due to self-doubt. Toronto gets so many “coverage sacks” like this because they force opponents into endless drive-and-kicks that don’t go anywhere and mentally drain them.

Every Raptor plays an instrument, but Pascal Siakam is the orchestrator of the Raptors’ closeout crescendo. He is so fast, long, and versatile that he spooks potential shooters the second he surges toward them. Per NBA.com tracking data, Siakam contests six three-point attempts per game all by himself, the most among players with at least 25 games played by a wide margin. Because he can guard all five positions effectively, opponents never know exactly where he might be on a given possession. And because the Raptors’ system is so well drilled at rotating down early to stop drives to the basket, Siakam is free to run at shooters all over the court without worrying about getting beat on drives.

The other key is that the Raptors’ five players switch seamlessly in scramble situations to lessen the distance any single player must travel to get back in position. Most teams have mastered the art of the “scram” or “kickout” switch, a maneuver used to prevent offenses from exploiting big-vs.-small mismatches inside. (Here’s a good breakdown from 2017).

The Raptors use the same principle, but on the perimeter. Rather than scram switching to stop post mismatches, the Raptors scram switch players of all sizes to shorten the distance needed to close out on shooters or stop drives. Watch Fred VanVleet pick up Patrick McCaw’s man on this Pacers curl.

Or Rondae Hollis-Jefferson boot McCaw to his spot-up wing assignment to cut off Caris LeVert’s drive.

Or Kyle Lowry and Serge Ibaka covering for each other on two straight Thunder spot-up drive attempts.

Collectively, Toronto’s frantic closeouts and quick-thinking switching make opponents feel pressured in moments where they should feel comfortable. Shots that are objectively “open” against Toronto often feels like they’re too contested to take, but when opponents choose to drive instead, they’re bound to find someone unexpected cutting off their path before they even get started. Their only choice is to restart the process with another drive-and-kick that hopefully yields a less stressful situation for a teammate.

Sometimes — nay, often, it does, but Toronto’s OK with that. This seems counterintuitive on many levels. Historically, the league’s best defense are the ones which limit three-point attempts rather than three-point percentage, because they have much more control over the former than the latter. Yet four out of every 10 Raptors opponents’ shots are threes, the highest rate in the league. More significantly, Toronto yields the highest proportion of corner threes in the NBA, according to Cleaning the Glass, and the difference between them and 29th-place Miami is larger than the difference between the Heat and 10th-place Detroit.

If the goal of a defense is to limit high-efficiency shots, Toronto’s would fail spectacularly. Cleaning the Glass uses a metric known as Shooting Location Effective Field Goal Percentage, which estimates how well an opponent would shoot if they converted the shots a defense gives up at a league-average rate. Based on this, Toronto’s defense should surrender an effective field goal percentage of 53.7 percent, the sixth-worst mark in the league. Instead, the Raptors actually hold opponents an effective field goal percentage of just 50.8 percent, mere percentage points behind Brooklyn and the Clippers for the second-best mark in the league. Since 2014, only two other teams (the 2016-17 Warriors and 2017-18 Celtics) have maintained a wider positive disparity between those two numbers over a whole season. Usually, those large discrepancies indicate good fortune and stabilize over time.

But there’s a growing case that Toronto is actually the exception to this rule. Teams may get juicy three-point looks against them, but only after surviving what seems like a never-ending a gauntlet of closeouts, switches, and traps. This shot is “open” in literal terms, because there’s no defender in sight.

But in the same way an unexpected tap on the shoulder gives you anxiety, this shot seems more contested than it is because the Raptors’ constant pressure screws with the shooters’ senses.

Those numbers also don’t account for the many “open” shots teams pass up, only to turn the ball over because they feel the Raptors’ footsteps. Toronto is second in the league in live-ball turnovers, second in points off turnovers, and tops in most points added per 100 possessions via steals. They strike quickly off the many mistakes they force, which only stresses their opponents out even more.

Nurse’s deployment of a shapeshifting defense with pressure as the foundational principle is unconventional and creative, but hardly unprecedented. In the early and mid 1990s, the Seattle SuperSonics emerged as a defensive powerhouse using Bob Kloppenburg’s “SOS” system, a frantic style of play that was often seen as a gimmick by its detractors. Among the core tenants of the system: switch all 2-on-2 screens, defend each action with all five guys, and force opponents to vulnerable “checkpoints” on the court before turning up the heat.

This system, combined with the Sonics’ athleticism and quick-strike ability, helped them overcome their lack of size and probably should have yielded a title. It looked bad when teams managed to beat it, but those moments were more than cancelled out by turnovers, rushed shots, and the general discomfort opponents felt trying to navigate what seemed like an endless supply of bodies in the way. (The three-point shot wasn’t en vogue in that era, but it like Toronto, those Sonics teams surrendered more long-distance attempts than most of their peers).

Nurse and the now-retired Kloppnburg were never on the same coaching staff. (The head coach Nurse replaced in Toronto, Dwane Casey, did overlap with Kloppenburg for one year as George Karl assistants in 1994-95). Still, it’s not hard to spot the parallels between the two men and their teams’ defensive systems. Both understood they needed to throw opponents off kilter to win the larger defensive war, even if it meant surrendering some easy buckets along the way. As Bernie Bickerstaff, the Sonics coach who initially hired Kloppenburg, told the Seattle Times in 1993, playing against Kloppenburg’s SOS defense “was like you were still picking something off you after the game.” They both make five defenders feel like 15.

Nearly three decades later, Nurse’s Raptors have translated the principles of those legendary Sonics defenses to the modern game. We don’t yet know if their haunted house defense is creative enough to take them all the way to the promised land again. Maybe, like Seattle’s style, it’s too gimmicky to ultimately triumph on its own.

But no matter the outcome, the Raptors have made the NBA a more interesting place. That’s the power of creativity and innovation.

[flauntpage]

A Weekend of Winning – Observations from the Kings and Bucks Victories

The Sixers now own road wins over the 52-18 Milwaukee Bucks and 47-21 Golden State Warriors, which is pretty damn good.

Fantastic victory Sunday afternoon, and one they really needed. They didn’t need just any old win, since they’ve now ripped off four straight, but what they needed was a statement win, a solid W against a top-four Eastern Conference squad to build confidence and show the greater NBA community that maybe this team does have what it takes to get out of round two. This win was good for the mental health of Philly sports fans, writers, radio hosts, and their spouses. It will give us two days of a natural high until Boston comes to town Wednesday night with the Sixers returning home on the second night of a back-to-back.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Let’s talk about the pair of weekend wins, which I’ve wrapped into one Monday morning post, honestly because I was exhausted on Saturday morning and needed to recharge the batteries.

I re-watched the final eight minutes of the Bucks game this morning, and this is what jumped out to me:

I liked Brett Brown’s timeout around the eight minute mark, which paused and essentially reset the game when the Sixers failed to snag a couple of loose balls after bricking one three pointer off the side of the backboard and air balling another.

Joel did take too many three-pointers, and the one that stood out to me was when Giannis tried a three around the 7 minute mark and he followed suit with his own attempt on the other end. After that miss, on the very next possession, he went to the rack for a spin move, and-1, to extend the lead back to nine. He dialed it back when it mattered, and then went back to the arc for the clutch shot near the end of the game.

Incredibly difficult stuff was going down for Jimmy Butler. A step back 22-footer? Driving straight into Giannis? That’s elite, high-level execution.

I also liked Brett’s timeout at the 4:28 mark, when Pat Connaughton answered Butler three with a three of his own. That was another “let’s kill off momentum and manage the game” type of timeout.

Most of what the Sixers were running down the stretch was simple pick and roll and some half court iso. They didn’t go to their typical elbow or ’12’ sets, not that I saw. They did go to a horns set where Ben was blocked off before getting to the rim, resulting in a Jimmy Butler 12 footer that was missed. They ran it again, this time with the elbow curl, around the 1:15 mark.

Sloppy turnover with Joel looking for JJ backdoor when the offense turned into a two-man set around the 2:30 mark. That was the only poor possession they had down the stretch.

The Embiid ball-fake and drawn foul was ridiculous and totally killed off Milwaukee momentum after a pair of Khris Middleton threes.

After Giannis dunked all over Simmons and called him a “fucking baby,” Simmons stuffed a putback dunk in his face. What an outrageous sequence that was. I’m really happy the refs kept the whistles silent and didn’t go for any technicals there. Let grown men play a grown man sport.

I originally had no clue what was going on with the pair of timeouts under two minutes, because the broadcast just sat on this camera shot of the Sixers’ bench for 10 seconds. I’m not sure the broadcast crew realized that Philly used a second timeout to advance the ball, which I guess was a smart move considering the fact that they couldn’t make it past half court on the most recent play. In that case, you forfeit that second timeout later to help yourself now.

Just a random asterisk type of note here, but Malcolm Brogdon is a good defender and his absence does make a difference out there.

I highly doubt that Milwaukee shoots 16-50 from three again. Nikola Mirotic probably isn’t chucking up another 0-6 night anytime soon.

More than anything, Joel Embiid just came to play. He looked energetic, dialed in, and up to the challenge. Similarly, he really stepped it up in a big way with two big blocks to close out the Sacramento game, which was closer than I thought it would be, considering the Kings were on the second night of a back-to-back, having played in Boston on Thursday night.

And Jimmy Butler looked as good as he has since coming to Philadelphia. When he wants to attack and is totally engaged on the offensive end, he’s as good a closer as the Sixers have had in more than a decade.

Defending Giannis

Very interesting to watch Giannis play, isn’t it? He’s so similar to Ben Simmons in how he attacks the basket but doesn’t shoot the ball all that well, though he’s probably a year or two ahead of Ben on the same exact bell curve of growth.

Giannis is a 25% three-pointer shooter this year and hits at 27.6% for his career. He hit 3-8 yesterday, which really is very good for him, but also honestly fine if I’m coaching the opposition. If he’s out on the perimeter he’s not lowering that shoulder, getting to the rim, and drawing fouls.

Still, modern day analytics types would LOVE this shot chart:

No midrange junk at all. Just high-efficiency, foul-drawing stuff around the rim complemented with three-point shooting. The guy is the MVP, so you gotta pick your poison, and I’m taking my chances with eight three-point attempts instead of putting a 74% free-throw shooter on the line with drive after drive after drive.

Embiid and Simmons were the most effective Giannis defenders Sunday, with Joel the only Sixer to keep him under 50% from the floor while guarding him.

Here’s how everybody fared vs. Antetokounmpo:

Giannis drew 6 of his 9 shooting fouls against Sixers not named Embiid, while the other three came in 45 matchups against Joel. You also see Giannis was 5-5 from the floor when not guarded by Ben or Joel.

He said this after the game, via ESPN:

“It’s easy,” Antetokounmpo said. “I would rather Ben guard me than Joel. It’s simple. If Joel’s been guarding me all night and he’s been making everything so tough on you, when someone switches on you — Jimmy [Butler] or Ben or [Mike] Scott or [Boban] Marjanovic — it’s way easier.”

The Greek Freak will be in town in a few weeks so we’ll get to see him up close and personal and build off what we learned Sunday.

Tweaking the rotation

On Friday night you saw Brett Brown change Ben Simmons’ substitution pattern, which resulted in a grouping of Butler, Boban, and Tobias Harris staying on the floor together while Joel and Ben’s minutes were linked. In previous games, we had seen Ben playing with the former group instead of Butler as Brown did some experimenting following the February trade deadline.

I like that aforementioned trio because Jimmy Butler is a pick and roll and isolation player, while Harris is similar and has known and played with Boban forever. Joel and Ben are familiar with each other’s skill sets and have played two seasons together now in Brett’s motion offense. On paper, it makes sense.

The only thing about linking Ben and Joel together was that the Sixers didn’t have anybody to defend Giannis when they were off the floor. Mike Scott did the best he could, but when the two teams play again soon, Brett might have to take another look at that, because Boban isn’t gonna be able to do it. On the flip side, it’s like a game of coaching chicken – does Budenholzer leave Giannis in the game to chase that favorable matchup? He can’t play the entire game, and at some point he’s gonna be squaring up with Embiid again on both ends of the floor.

You also have to consider that this can leave you with T.J. McConnell and JJ Redick pairings, which stresses your back court defensively. That’s another wrinkle to think about.

Still, mostly positive stuff here. Over at NBA.com, that Jimmy/Tobias/Boban trio has played 92 minutes together with a 12.5 net rating, which is fantastic, though some of that of course includes minutes played with Redick and Simmons while Embiid was injured. However, if you have nights down the stretch where you can get away with Embiid and Simmons sitting at the same time, this lineup has seemed to work pretty well in admittedly limited minutes over the last few games.

Boban

Boban’s strengths and weaknesses were both on display this weekend.

Weaknesses: lateral movement, defending in space

Strengths: height, underrated skill set

First, the strengths. I have this belief that Boban’s passing and vision is a little underrated, and that some of his game gets overlooked simply because we’re incredibly distracted by how tall he is and how he makes some plays look absolutely ridiculous.

I asked Brett Brown and Tobias Harris about this on Friday night, i.e., do we undervalue Boban’s wider skill set because of his humongous size?

Brett:

I remember about two weeks ago, I saw these guys play 1v1, it was Ben and Jimmy and 7’4″ Boban. He is skilled. He can pass out of the post, he’s got up-and-unders, he’s got right hand, left hand and he can make a free-throw. If that’s your point, that he’s so big that you miss the point that he’s good in other areas, I completely agree with you. He’s been a sensational pickup.

Tobias:

I think (it’s) because guys really haven’t seen him that much, this year, just in spurts, but he has more to his game. We were trying to get him to shoot a three (Friday night). There’s more parts to his game that he has, that he hasn’t brought out yet. At his size he’s very strong, too. He’s not an easy guy to just move around. I believe half the time he’s getting fouled more than what’s being called for him with his size, but I think he’ll get more calls with more reps.

It’s absurd some of the things that he makes look really childish just by virtue of how big he is:

It’s absurd how big Boban is pic.twitter.com/4po5efhm7S

— Shane Young (@YoungNBA) March 16, 2019

I just wonder how effective he’s going to be in the playoffs. You can’t play him against Giannis and Al Horford is too stretchy and slippery to chase around. After the first round, where you’ll draw Andre Drummond or Jarrett Allen, we’ll have to see if any further matchups make sense for him, because I think he’s a skilled guy beyond just being large. You have to pick your spots with Boban in your lineup, because he’s a unique guy with unique strengths and unique weaknesses.

Other notes:

Light boos for Nemanja Bjelica Friday night, who agreed to a deal with the Sixers in the summer before reneging and deciding to ultimate go to Sacramento.

Nice cheers for ex-Sixer Corey Brewer, who was wearing fantastic glasses tucked into his headband.

The in-game interview must be fired into the sun. Seriously. Brett Brown and Mike Budenholzer speak before the game AND after the game. They don’t need to speak to the sideline reporter after the first quarter or third quarter. Get rid of it forever.

T.J. had some moments in the Bucks game where he looked like a liability out there. The foul on Giannis to end the 1st quarter was such an atypical play for him.

JJ shot the ball well in both games. Looks like he’s snapped out of the funk he was in. The Sixers are so much better when he’s hitting, especially early, which helps them get into an offensive rhythm.

No turnover issues this weekend, just 10 against Sacramento and 13 against Milwaukee. That average (11.5) would make the Sixers #1 in the league.

I’ll leave you with the Giannis/Ben posters from earlier. I have to admit, when you do this for a living, there isn’t a lot that draws a reaction from you, but I audibly gasped twice while watching these two plays live, then did it again while watching on tape:

10 seconds later, Simmons tip slams on Giannis’ head and primal screams in his grill let’s go pic.twitter.com/fv9rhP4Bn9

— Rob Perez (@WorldWideWob) March 17, 2019

Happy Monday.

The post A Weekend of Winning – Observations from the Kings and Bucks Victories appeared first on Crossing Broad.

A Weekend of Winning – Observations from the Kings and Bucks Victories published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star

“How much fun can you have for less than $30,000?” asked writer Steven Cole Smith, who then proceeded to answer himself: “This much fun. Overbuilt like an armored car, the Veloster N alone proves Hyundai isn’t paying Albert Biermann—the engineer it stole from the BMW M Division—nearly enough.”

The Veloster N was a surprise favorite of this year’s All-Stars competition. Its inclusion was the subject of much debate among Automobile staffers, and it was only after a lot of lobbying initiated by a couple of the Veloster N’s biggest fans on staff that the lion-hearted Hyundai got a shot at the title. And like the protagonist in any good boxing movie, the Hyundai came out swinging.

Many of our editors got their first-ever taste of the N on the Streets of Willow, where the hard-charging hatchback proved to be a hoot. “So controllable with the throttle—you can rotate it on demand, but it never gets out of sorts,” senior online editor Erik Johnson said. Contributor Jethro Bovingdon agreed: “On the track the brakes were impressive, and the car feels agile and exhibits strong traction. Fast enough to feel like a serious performance car.”

Hatchback Throwback: The Hyundai Veloster N offered a combination of speed, agility, character, and good ol’ fashioned value that earned our respect.

Editor-at-large Arthur St. Antoine wasn’t quite as impressed, at least not initially. “More understeer than I expected,” he noted, “but on the road, the Veloster fared much better. On our mountain loop, I just left the shifter in third and let the torque blast me out of the corners. Handling is poised, and steering feel is excellent. The Honda Civic Type R is better in almost every way, but at its price, the N pretty much rules.”

It was natural the Veloster N should attract comparisons to the Civic Type R, a much-loved member of the All-Stars Class of 2018. Most agreed the Hyundai trailed the Honda but acknowledged the trade-off for the lower price was worth it. News editor Conner Golden echoed the thoughts of several staffers when he said, “It’s not quite as good as the Civic Type R, but for roughly $6,000 cheaper, it doesn’t have to be.”

Indeed, the Veloster N, swimming among sharks like the Ferrari 812 Superfast and McLaren 600LT, reminded us that big thrills don’t have to cost big money. Even with the Performance package—which bumps horsepower by 25 (to 275 hp) and adds a limited-slip differential, sticky Pirelli P Zero tires, and a flap that opens the exhaust—the Hyundai was one of the least expensive cars in the competition. Purists among us love that the only transmission choice is an honest-to-goodness six-speed manual, with a switchable rev-matching feature that made fast downshifts as smooth (if not as quick) as a dual-clutch transmission.

“For lack of a more obvious modern car,” Detroit editor Lassa said, “the Veloster is the modern-day Honda CRX, which makes the Veloster N the Europe-only Mk II CRX SiR that we never got. Clearly, it’s the runaway ‘poor’ enthusiast’s hit.”

The Veloster N’s range of customizable driving modes was a frequent topic of discussion. Along with the usual Eco, Normal, and Sport programs, the top-end Veloster has an “N” mode, accessible by a separate button on the steering wheel, which opens up the exhaust and tightens up the suspension to a level that most editors thought was too stiff. It bounced like a Superball over the far-from-smooth Streets of Willow, but happily, the Veloster also allows you to pick and choose among the different settings. Bovingdon was one of several drivers who praised the ability to fine-tune the car to their liking. “N mode is too harsh, so I used ‘N Custom’ with the engine in Sport +, rev-matching off, and suspension knocked back to Sport,” he reported. “Worth the effort as it all comes together pretty well.” Johnson added, “It’s fun to provoke the exhaust into its staccato pops, and easy to dial that back once you tire of them.”

Still, with all it had going for it, few editors expected the Veloster N to float to the top—but when we tallied the votes, that’s exactly what happened.

“This is far and away the best Hyundai I’ve ever driven,” Mike Floyd said. “Fast. Fun. Well done.”

2019 Automobile All-Stars The Winners | The Contenders | The Venues

2019 Hyundai Veloster N Specifications

PRICE $27,820/$29,920 
(base/as tested) ENGINE 2.0L turbo DOHC 16-valve I-4; 275 hp 
@ 6,000 rpm, 260 lb-ft @ 1,450–4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual LAYOUT 3-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 22/28 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 167.9 x 71.3 x 54.9 in WHEELBASE 104.3 in WEIGHT 3,117 lb 0–60 MPH 6.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED 155 mph

The post The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star

“How much fun can you have for less than $30,000?” asked writer Steven Cole Smith, who then proceeded to answer himself: “This much fun. Overbuilt like an armored car, the Veloster N alone proves Hyundai isn’t paying Albert Biermann—the engineer it stole from the BMW M Division—nearly enough.”

The Veloster N was a surprise favorite of this year’s All-Stars competition. Its inclusion was the subject of much debate among Automobile staffers, and it was only after a lot of lobbying initiated by a couple of the Veloster N’s biggest fans on staff that the lion-hearted Hyundai got a shot at the title. And like the protagonist in any good boxing movie, the Hyundai came out swinging.

Many of our editors got their first-ever taste of the N on the Streets of Willow, where the hard-charging hatchback proved to be a hoot. “So controllable with the throttle—you can rotate it on demand, but it never gets out of sorts,” senior online editor Erik Johnson said. Contributor Jethro Bovingdon agreed: “On the track the brakes were impressive, and the car feels agile and exhibits strong traction. Fast enough to feel like a serious performance car.”

Hatchback Throwback: The Hyundai Veloster N offered a combination of speed, agility, character, and good ol’ fashioned value that earned our respect.

Editor-at-large Arthur St. Antoine wasn’t quite as impressed, at least not initially. “More understeer than I expected,” he noted, “but on the road, the Veloster fared much better. On our mountain loop, I just left the shifter in third and let the torque blast me out of the corners. Handling is poised, and steering feel is excellent. The Honda Civic Type R is better in almost every way, but at its price, the N pretty much rules.”

It was natural the Veloster N should attract comparisons to the Civic Type R, a much-loved member of the All-Stars Class of 2018. Most agreed the Hyundai trailed the Honda but acknowledged the trade-off for the lower price was worth it. News editor Conner Golden echoed the thoughts of several staffers when he said, “It’s not quite as good as the Civic Type R, but for roughly $6,000 cheaper, it doesn’t have to be.”

Indeed, the Veloster N, swimming among sharks like the Ferrari 812 Superfast and McLaren 600LT, reminded us that big thrills don’t have to cost big money. Even with the Performance package—which bumps horsepower by 25 (to 275 hp) and adds a limited-slip differential, sticky Pirelli P Zero tires, and a flap that opens the exhaust—the Hyundai was one of the least expensive cars in the competition. Purists among us love that the only transmission choice is an honest-to-goodness six-speed manual, with a switchable rev-matching feature that made fast downshifts as smooth (if not as quick) as a dual-clutch transmission.

“For lack of a more obvious modern car,” Detroit editor Lassa said, “the Veloster is the modern-day Honda CRX, which makes the Veloster N the Europe-only Mk II CRX SiR that we never got. Clearly, it’s the runaway ‘poor’ enthusiast’s hit.”

The Veloster N’s range of customizable driving modes was a frequent topic of discussion. Along with the usual Eco, Normal, and Sport programs, the top-end Veloster has an “N” mode, accessible by a separate button on the steering wheel, which opens up the exhaust and tightens up the suspension to a level that most editors thought was too stiff. It bounced like a Superball over the far-from-smooth Streets of Willow, but happily, the Veloster also allows you to pick and choose among the different settings. Bovingdon was one of several drivers who praised the ability to fine-tune the car to their liking. “N mode is too harsh, so I used ‘N Custom’ with the engine in Sport +, rev-matching off, and suspension knocked back to Sport,” he reported. “Worth the effort as it all comes together pretty well.” Johnson added, “It’s fun to provoke the exhaust into its staccato pops, and easy to dial that back once you tire of them.”

Still, with all it had going for it, few editors expected the Veloster N to float to the top—but when we tallied the votes, that’s exactly what happened.

“This is far and away the best Hyundai I’ve ever driven,” Mike Floyd said. “Fast. Fun. Well done.”

2019 Automobile All-Stars The Winners | The Contenders | The Venues

2019 Hyundai Veloster N Specifications

PRICE $27,820/$29,920 
(base/as tested) ENGINE 2.0L turbo DOHC 16-valve I-4; 275 hp 
@ 6,000 rpm, 260 lb-ft @ 1,450–4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual LAYOUT 3-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 22/28 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 167.9 x 71.3 x 54.9 in WHEELBASE 104.3 in WEIGHT 3,117 lb 0–60 MPH 6.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED 155 mph

The post The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[jesusvasser]

The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star

“How much fun can you have for less than $30,000?” asked writer Steven Cole Smith, who then proceeded to answer himself: “This much fun. Overbuilt like an armored car, the Veloster N alone proves Hyundai isn’t paying Albert Biermann—the engineer it stole from the BMW M Division—nearly enough.”

The Veloster N was a surprise favorite of this year’s All-Stars competition. Its inclusion was the subject of much debate among Automobile staffers, and it was only after a lot of lobbying initiated by a couple of the Veloster N’s biggest fans on staff that the lion-hearted Hyundai got a shot at the title. And like the protagonist in any good boxing movie, the Hyundai came out swinging.

Many of our editors got their first-ever taste of the N on the Streets of Willow, where the hard-charging hatchback proved to be a hoot. “So controllable with the throttle—you can rotate it on demand, but it never gets out of sorts,” senior online editor Erik Johnson said. Contributor Jethro Bovingdon agreed: “On the track the brakes were impressive, and the car feels agile and exhibits strong traction. Fast enough to feel like a serious performance car.”

Hatchback Throwback: The Hyundai Veloster N offered a combination of speed, agility, character, and good ol’ fashioned value that earned our respect.

Editor-at-large Arthur St. Antoine wasn’t quite as impressed, at least not initially. “More understeer than I expected,” he noted, “but on the road, the Veloster fared much better. On our mountain loop, I just left the shifter in third and let the torque blast me out of the corners. Handling is poised, and steering feel is excellent. The Honda Civic Type R is better in almost every way, but at its price, the N pretty much rules.”

It was natural the Veloster N should attract comparisons to the Civic Type R, a much-loved member of the All-Stars Class of 2018. Most agreed the Hyundai trailed the Honda but acknowledged the trade-off for the lower price was worth it. News editor Conner Golden echoed the thoughts of several staffers when he said, “It’s not quite as good as the Civic Type R, but for roughly $6,000 cheaper, it doesn’t have to be.”

Indeed, the Veloster N, swimming among sharks like the Ferrari 812 Superfast and McLaren 600LT, reminded us that big thrills don’t have to cost big money. Even with the Performance package—which bumps horsepower by 25 (to 275 hp) and adds a limited-slip differential, sticky Pirelli P Zero tires, and a flap that opens the exhaust—the Hyundai was one of the least expensive cars in the competition. Purists among us love that the only transmission choice is an honest-to-goodness six-speed manual, with a switchable rev-matching feature that made fast downshifts as smooth (if not as quick) as a dual-clutch transmission.

“For lack of a more obvious modern car,” Detroit editor Lassa said, “the Veloster is the modern-day Honda CRX, which makes the Veloster N the Europe-only Mk II CRX SiR that we never got. Clearly, it’s the runaway ‘poor’ enthusiast’s hit.”

The Veloster N’s range of customizable driving modes was a frequent topic of discussion. Along with the usual Eco, Normal, and Sport programs, the top-end Veloster has an “N” mode, accessible by a separate button on the steering wheel, which opens up the exhaust and tightens up the suspension to a level that most editors thought was too stiff. It bounced like a Superball over the far-from-smooth Streets of Willow, but happily, the Veloster also allows you to pick and choose among the different settings. Bovingdon was one of several drivers who praised the ability to fine-tune the car to their liking. “N mode is too harsh, so I used ‘N Custom’ with the engine in Sport +, rev-matching off, and suspension knocked back to Sport,” he reported. “Worth the effort as it all comes together pretty well.” Johnson added, “It’s fun to provoke the exhaust into its staccato pops, and easy to dial that back once you tire of them.”

Still, with all it had going for it, few editors expected the Veloster N to float to the top—but when we tallied the votes, that’s exactly what happened.

“This is far and away the best Hyundai I’ve ever driven,” Mike Floyd said. “Fast. Fun. Well done.”

2019 Automobile All-Stars The Winners | The Contenders | The Venues

2019 Hyundai Veloster N Specifications

PRICE $27,820/$29,920 
(base/as tested) ENGINE 2.0L turbo DOHC 16-valve I-4; 275 hp 
@ 6,000 rpm, 260 lb-ft @ 1,450–4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual LAYOUT 3-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 22/28 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 167.9 x 71.3 x 54.9 in WHEELBASE 104.3 in WEIGHT 3,117 lb 0–60 MPH 6.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED 155 mph

The post The Hyundai Veloster N Is a 2019 Automobile All-Star appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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