#and the league. who DO elevate... still not being enough to carry a team to greatness the way u used to be able to

[3416]

me when i say i love mcdrai and also will ALWAYS root for the oilers downfall... don't get it confused 👆

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: The Jersey Devil

Rated X / 2470 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She asks Rob to drop her off at the Hoover building instead of her apartment, and when he pulls up to the curb she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt and tugs on the door handle to discourage him from getting out of the car. She suspects that he might try to kiss her, and the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She can already hear Ellen asking her what’s wrong with him, why she isn’t interested, and she’s not even sure what her answer will be.

On paper, he’s perfect. He’s the kind of man her father would like to see her dating, save for the fact that he already has one marriage and a child under his belt. Nothing he said or did during their date offended her or gave her reason to think that they might not be a good match, but despite all that she just found the entire evening…painfully boring. She surprised herself when her reaction to Mulder paging her in the middle of their meal was relief rather than annoyance.

She makes her way towards the basement of the Hoover, her heels ticking loudly against the linoleum and bouncing a clatter of sound through the deserted halls. The soft glow of desk lamps illuminate otherwise darkened rooms here and there—other lonely souls avoiding the reality of solitude with work—but for the most part the building is empty. The relative stillness makes her realize that the two glasses of wine she downed to make Rob’s monologue on shared custody more tolerable have left her on the edge of tipsy, which feels like an inappropriate state to be in at her workplace. She feels the distinct flutter of excitement mount as the elevator lowers her into the bowels of the building, and brushes away the nagging worry that Mulder will find her late-night arrival odd.

Her lingering crush on him is inconvenient, mostly because it makes her second guess herself and worry about what he thinks of her more than she’s comfortable with. Missy used to tease her mercilessly about her unrequited fixation on boys who would never like her back: the captain of the football team, the student body president, her chemistry T.A. Being the girl who is smart but not sexy, cute but not pretty, a great friend but not girlfriend material, is a truth she has carried with her into adulthood. And here she is again, ditching a man who is well within her league and actually interested in her in order to spend time with a man who will never see her as anything more than a colleague.

That’s not to say she wants him to, of course—she has already thoroughly learned her lesson regarding mixing work and pleasure. There’s just something primal about wanting a person you are unrelentingly attracted to to see you in the same way, even if you never intend to act on it.

She arrives before his office door, pink-cheeked and inexplicably nervous, and raps three times with her knuckle.

“It’s open,” he calls out, and she pushes the door just wide enough to poke her head through.

Mulder is hunched over his desk, head raised expectantly. When he sees her, his eyes narrow and he glances behind him at the clock on the wall.

“Scully, what are you doing here? What happened to your date?” he asks, and she feels a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s, um—we were finished. I mean, it’s over,” she stammers awkwardly as she steps the rest of the way through the door. “I just thought—I wasn’t sure if you might still be working. If you might need my help. With the case,” she finishes, turning her back to him briefly as she hangs her purse and mouths oh my god to herself at her own lack of eloquence.

When she turns to face him, she finds that he’s now sitting back in his chair, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. His eyes flash down to her feet and then back up her body, and when they land on her face he looks away. Reflexively, Scully looks down at her outfit to see if she spilled something on her shirt, then touches her hair in case it’s fallen out of place. Everything appears to be in order.

Mulder clears his throat and picks up a sheet of paper from the desktop.

“Of course, I could always use your help. Take a look at this drawing based on the description from one of the eyewitnesses,” he says, and Scully walks around the desk to stand beside him.

The drawing is rudimentary, almost childlike, depicting a distinctly female form that resembles an ogre. Scully cracks a smile.

“This is a bit different than your typical fare,” she jokes, then turns to look at him.

She finds that his eyes are already on her, lingering somewhere around her waist. As before, he sees that she’s looking at him and quickly averts his eyes.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, busying himself with organizing the persistent mess on his desk. “You look—sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Scully frowns and looks down at her outfit again. Ellen had helped her pick it out, and she felt comfortable and confident in it all evening, until now.

“Do I look silly?” she asks self-consciously, smoothing her hands over her hips.

“No!” Mulder says, too abruptly, snapping his head back over to look at her. “No, not at all. You look great. You look amazing, actually.”

Scully smiles demurely and looks back to the drawing. “Thank you.”

“Not that you don’t normally look great,” he continues, rambling nervously. “But your work suits are decidedly less…fitted.”

He stops talking and Scully slowly lifts her head to look at him. He’s cringing, the fingers of one hand resting on his temple in an attempt to shield his face. Meanwhile, she can’t keep the smile off hers.

“I made it weird, didn’t I?” he asks, stealing glances at her.

“No, you didn’t make it weird,” she assures him, turning to rest her hip against the edge of the desk, her confidence restored.

Mulder pivots his chair to face her, and while his eyes are on her face she can sense that he is still gawking at her from his periphery. She feels warm and a little scared, but also excited.

“So, how was your date?” he asks, and she pretends to examine the drawing again, using her own peripheral vision to watch him raking his eyes over her body.

“Fine,” she says, disinterested.

“You gonna go out with him again?”

She shrugs, then sets the drawing back down on the desk.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I haven’t decided.”

Mulder stands abruptly and his chair goes skittering across the floor until it knocks up against a metal filing cabinet. Scully flinches, but her reaction is cut short when he steps up behind her, so close she can feel his pectoral muscles pressing into her back.

“See?” he asks, reaching around her to trace his finger along the curved lines indicating breasts on the drawing. “It’s female.”

“Compelling,” she attempts to say dryly, but her voice catches in her throat.

His other hand comes to rest on the front of her hip, and she freezes as her heart begins to race. She should tell him to stop. She should leave. But she doesn’t want to.

Mulder stoops a little, and she feels the heat of his breath near her ear, and then the rush of a deep inhale.

“You smell good,” he says quietly, and she squeezes her thighs together.

“What are you doing?” she asks, just as quietly. Some part of her is still afraid that she’s misreading the situation.

“Do you want me to stop?”

A pause.

“No.”

His arms go around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she feels the firm ridge of his erection press into her lower back. She’s terrified, exhilarated, in utter disbelief. She feels as though she’s outside her own body, watching from above as she covers Mulder’s hand with her own and pushes it down her belly and under the waist of her pants. She would never do this. Never. But somehow she is. Mulder makes a little sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, then brings his other hand in to undo the clasp on her trousers. They fall to the floor, puddling around her heels, and all that covers her is the lace bodysuit that snaps between her legs. None of her panties were practical to wear beneath it.

“God, look at you,” Mulder mumbles, mostly to himself, as he leans over her shoulder to look down at her body. He leans away for a moment to get a look at the back, and she feels her cheeks warm, remembering that it’s a thong. “You’re gorgeous, Scully.”

She can feel how wet she is, just from the knowledge that he wants her. He palms her breasts, then sends his hands lower. Down and down, following the lace fabric between her legs. He hums, and she knows he feels it too. She startles as she hears three quick pops, and then feels cool air on her vulva as he unsnaps the body suit and exposes her.

“Oh,” he says, feeling her bare skin beneath his fingertips. “I thought you’d be wearing…sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathes out, trembling as his fingers follow the seam of her leg and slide past her vulva on one side, and then the other.

“Okay?” he repeats, inching closer to her opening.

She snakes her arm behind her back and rubs him firmly over his slacks.

“Okay,” she says confidently, and from there it unravels at a breakneck pace.

She watches from above as he strips off his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down to the floor. She watches him fold her in half over the side of his desk, then drop to his knees and push his face into the valley of her ass cheeks. She feels his tongue, hot and wet, prodding at everything he can reach, and just when she thinks she might come, he stands up and runs the head of his cock along the same path.

“You’re sure?” he asks through gritted teeth, and she pushes her hips back against him, taking him in halfway.

She would never do this. Not with her partner, not in his office, not with the door half open, not without a condom. She would never, and yet she is. All she can think about his how good it feels to be wanted, to be fucked with so much vigor. She steals a glance over her shoulder to see his face, to see the way he’s looking at her, and she finds him slack-jawed, his dress shirt bunched up under his armpits so he can see the place where he’s slipping in and out of her. He catches her looking and holds her eye, increasing the snap of his hips as he bumps her higher and higher with each slap of his thighs against hers. Her eyes slide closed, and a wash of pleasure spreads through her limbs, gathering in her pelvis and shattering. She bites her lip to stay quiet, and Mulder grunts when he feels her, pulling out soon after and stroking himself until she feels the hot spill of him on her lower back.

She’s panting, still floating in the middle place where she doesn’t have to think about what she’s just done. And then she hears the elevator ding.

They both freeze, waiting. There is the distinct scuff of shoes on linoleum, and Scully stands too quickly. Her head spins and Mulder grabs her elbow as she tries to steady herself on her high heels, only one of which is still on her foot. They each scramble back into their clothes, and she stuffs the tails of the body suit into her pants as Mulder shoves his shirt back into his slacks. By the time the interloper makes it to the office door, she’s already beside the coat rack, swinging her purse over her shoulder.

“You must be agent Scully,” says a friendly voice, and she turns to see an elderly man pushing a custodial cart, his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows lifting to afford him a better view. “You finally hung around late enough for me to meet you.”

The man smiles and Scully does her best to return it, though her stomach is doing adrenaline-fueled backflips.

“Scully, this is Sam,” Mulder says hoarsely, and she nods and offers her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I was actually just on my way out,” she says somewhat curtly, then hurries down the hall toward the elevator.

By the time she hails a cab and makes her way back to her apartment, there is already a message waiting for her on her answering machine. She knows it’s from him. She undresses right there in the hallway, frowning at the stain on the back of her shirt, as she hits play and listens to messages from her insurance broker and Ellen, asking how her date went.

Hi Dana, it’s Rob. I just wanted to say that I had a great time tonight, and I’d love to take you out again. You have my number, give me a call when you’re ready. Take care.

Delete.

The next message starts with an agonized sigh.

Hey, Scully, it’s me. I, um—fuck. I hope you’re okay. I’ll call you again when I get back to my apartment.

The message ends, and she plays it again, though she’s not entirely sure what she’s listening for. On her third listen, the phone rings, and she snatches it up off the cradle a little too quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

There’s a long pause. Scully looks down at her naked body, and the soiled body suit she still holds in her hand.

“It’s okay, Mulder. I’m fine,” she says, and she hears him let out a relieved sigh. “I think maybe I had a few too many glasses of wine at dinner,” she adds lightheartedly, and he chuckles.

“I think maybe I was staring at that drawing a little too long,” he jokes, and she gives him the courtesy of a laugh in response.

“Maybe just forget it ever happened, huh?” she suggests, wringing the bodysuit in her hands.

“Yeah, probably for the best,” he agrees.

Another long pause.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

She’s moving the phone away from her ear when she hears him speak again.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I was just saying—I just wanted you to know. You really did look great tonight. That guy is lucky he got to take you out.”

She feels herself smiling, knowing that Mulder was certainly the lucky one of the two tonight.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

“Goodnight.”

“Bye.”

[generation-of-kuroko-and-kagami]

Midorima Shintarō: How Strong Is He?

So, I’m making this post in response to a couple asks I got (one by @taigaakagami and another anonymous one) asking some questions about Midorima:

Do I think Midorima is underrated in the GoM? This question includes Midorima being unable to go into the Zone/analysis on if he even needs the Zone.

What would it would be like if Midorima did enter the Zone? I’ll also talk about why Midorima hasn’t entered the Zone/if he even can enter the Zone.

Do I think Midorima is the best shooting guard in the series, despite the fact that characters like Hyuuga, Tatsuya, and Mibuchi are also strong shooting guards?

I don’t know that this post will be super long, but I’m going to try and answer these questions thoroughly. I’ll say upfront that I do think Midorima is the weakest of all the GoM members, excluding Kuroko. I’ve said this before in my posts, and the reasoning goes beyond the fact that Midorima is the only member of the GoM starters that hasn’t gone into the Zone. Let’s break down Midorima’s skills first, and then we can get into the comparisons.

TL;DR in bold

P.S. For the sake of argument, just know that when I say “GoM members” in this specific post, I never mean to include Kuroko. No offense to Kuroko, but on his own, he isn’t in the same league as the GoM starters.

Midorima’s Abilities & Weaknesses

Midorima’s basic abilities include his shooting accuracy, his defense, his intelligence, and his physical strength. He also improved his endurance over the course of the series to enhance his ability to shoot physically draining shots for longer periods of time. Of course, Kuroko no Basket is famous for naming every advanced ability a player has, so Midorima also has a few of those. His Super Three Point Shot allows him to shoot accurate three-pointers from the half-court and full-court lines, and the Sky-Direct Three Point Shot is a combination shot with Takao where Takao will pass the ball to Midorima’s hands--as he’s already in a shooting form--and Midorima makes the shot. This prevents any opponents from blocking the shot as Midorima can throw it off before the opposing team realizes what’s happened. Unless it’s Akashi, but we don’t need to get into that.

Though Midorima’s endurance isn’t a weakness for him anymore, like it was at the beginning of the series, he is still weak when it comes to the physicality of his GoM skills. Yes, he can make incredible shots that no one else can make, but it will definitely tear up his body in the process. If he’s able to make it to adulthood without seriously injuring his joints and muscles, he’ll be unstoppable, but until then, Midorima has to put limiters on his ability to remain healthy. Additionally, he can’t enter the Zone. Whether he needs to enter it or not is something we’re about to get into, but for now, it’s considered a weakness.

Is Midorima Underrated?

Asking if Midorima is underrated is kind of a subjective question, so really, this answer is up to whoever is reading this, but if I’m trying to be as objective as possible, I’m going to look at the comparisons between him and the other GoM members. How do fans of KnB react to Midorima in comparison to the other members? Do they generally think his abilities are weaker? Are his abilities weaker?

Here’s the thing: from what I know of the fandom surrounding KnB, it seems that people simply find Midorima’s abilities boring. Yes, everyone loves the Sky-Direct Three, but that’s because it’s a Midorima/Takao thing. It’s an awesome skill because it needs both of them. I think the mystique that comes with Akashi, the overwhelming awe that comes with Murasakibara, the amazement that comes with Aomine, and the surprises that come with Kise are too difficult to compete with. Midorima doesn’t have the same wow factor that they do. So, to that end, I don’t think Midorima is underrated because he is what he is. Some people really love him as a character and a player, and some people probably dislike him. But I don’t think people are underestimating his abilities. I think it’s perfectly clear to most people that his abilities are the most vanilla, if you will, despite potentially being the most useful. Plus, there’s the fact that he can’t enter the Zone. So, you’d be forgiven if you thought Midorima was the weakest based on that since the other members have all gone into the Zone.

Does Midorima Need the Zone?

Is Midorima underrated on the grounds that people think he’s weak for not being able to go into the Zone, despite him not even needing the Zone to being with? That is a possibility, yeah. I’ll talk about what a Midorima-in-the-Zone playstyle would look like in a minute, but I’ll agree with the notion that Midorima probably doesn’t need the Zone at all.

When players enter the Zone, you’re basically looking at the enhancement of all basic abilities. You’re faster, your more accurate, you’ve got more power. The downside to the Zone is that it drains the stamina of the player significantly. The requirements for entering are vast amounts of talent and passion for basketball.

The way I see it is that Midorima may actually be hindered by going into the Zone. The endurance training he completed to be able to use his abilities for an entire game would be wasted by draining his stamina in the Zone. Also, Midorima isn’t a very mobile player. He can be swift, and he does use power on defense, but his position as a shooting guard means constant movement isn’t necessary. Aomine, for example, needs to be able to drive and jump and dodge and pivot, so an increase in his physical abilities would only make those things more precise. Akashi needs to outmaneuver his opponents at the top of the key and make the correct passes to get the ball through, so being more agile benefits him. For Midorima, though, those improvements would go to waste.

What if Midorima did enter the Zone?

What would it look like for Midorima to be in the Zone? Why can’t he enter it already? Let’s answer that second question first. If Midorima meets both of the requirements for being in the Zone, why hasn’t he entered the Zone? Is it because he doesn’t have the talent? Well, no, because he’s a GoM member. And we know he loves basketball. So, what is it that keeps him away? I don’t think there’s a clear answer to this, but if I had to reach for one, it would be that Midorima doesn’t go one-on-one with people enough for him to focus in the way you need to if you’re gonna get into the Zone. I know that Midorima did go one-on-one with Kagami, but that showdown never had the same high-energy, high-movement feel that the Kagami/Aomine showdown did, or the Kagami/Kise one did.

As a shooting guard, Midorima is basically getting the ball to throw it off right away. He’s not in a position that favors one-on-one moments. I mean, of course, there’s always going to be some moments like that because shooting guards still have defenders, but it’s nothing like a power forward trying to make it past a center or a point guard trying to shake his defender so he can drive. It’s mostly just a.) the shooting guard gets the ball and b.) the defender tries to block it or knock it out of their opponent’s hands. Without the sense of rivalry being enhanced with one-on-one play, Midorima never really focuses hard enough to enter the Zone.

There is also the possibility that he can’t enter the Zone because he relies on his team more than the other GoM members. Which would also explain why Kuroko can’t go into the Zone. All of the GoM members rely on their teammates--well, Aomine is a work in progress, but he’s open to it, so we’ll leave that there--but Midorima is dependent on his team to perform at his best. Before meeting Takao, this wasn’t the case, but his skills elevated with the Sky-Direct Three, so his best now includes that. Meaning, he needs someone else to achieve it. Maybe that’s a stretch, but nonetheless. Look at it this way: Midorima is the only GoM member that hasn’t done the whole, “No offense to my team, but this moment is just about me” thing. Like, even Kise, who is super pro-teamwork, expressed his immaturity during his match with Seirin because he wanted to carry the burden of winning on his own. Midorima doesn’t do that, though, so maybe his lack of selfishness is why he can’t enter the Zone.

But what if he did?

I honestly don’t know that I can imagine a Midorima-in-the-Zone playstyle. It’s not like his accuracy can increase in the Zone if his accuracy is always 100%, right? I really think the only thing that would be different about Midorima in the Zone would be his speed. Which would, essentially, equate to him being able to throw shots off faster. I guess, potentially, he may step out of his traditional role as a shooting guard if he were in the Zone. Like, maybe he’d steal the ball back after a turnover or something. Takao definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with him in the Zone, though, so I’m sure a game with Midorima in the Zone would end up like any other GoM-in-the-Zone game: Midorima running the whole thing by himself. I really don’t think it would look much different than the games we’ve already seen with Midorima, though. He’d just be sharper. I guess that’s why he was never written to go into the Zone because his abilities don’t really lend themselves to superhuman improvement. Probably because they’re already pretty superhuman.

Is Midorima the Best Shooting Guard in KnB?

Can I answer this with a short answer? Yes, he is. I’m not gonna front and say that the other incredible shooting guards in the series wouldn’t give Midorima a good fight. Tatsuya and Mibuchi, especially, but Hyuuga has also proven that he’s a worthy opponent for him. But it really comes down to accuracy. Midorima could be tricked by Tatsuya shots or foul off of Mibuchi’s, but they can miss. Midorima can’t. Actually, if it came down to a battle of accuracy, Hyuuga is probably the one I’d pick to go up against Midorima. And we’re talking individual abilities here, okay, not a team verses Midorima. One-on-one, Midorima’s basic abilities as a shooting guard outweigh anything else. That’s what they were designed to do when Midorima was written as a character, so I think it’s accurate to say that Midorima would win against any other shooting guard in the series 9 times out of 10. Now, that tenth time may be an interesting discussion to have, but that’s another post for another time.

Well, sorry this took so long to post. I meant to post it about a month ago, but hectic lives don’t leave room for KnB blogs. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts on this topic as I’m sure there are some of you reading that think Midorima is the strongest GoM player or that he’s so weak, any other shooting guard could beat him. I will try to make time for the pile of asks in my inbox in the future, so please bear with me and keep an eye out for what’s to come!

[russadler]

Work Hard, Play Harder - Prologue

Russell Adler x Female OC

The mission sounds simple enough, but the devil was definitely in the details.

A/N: This is something completely new and separate from ‘A Little Death’ and NOT a Russell Adler x Bell. After coming to terms with the issues with that pairing, it was difficult to continue that fic even though I loved it as much as I did. It was devastating to do so, but I’m hoping to create something completely new and fun. I guess this is sort of similar to ‘A Little Death’ in a way but completely different at the same time. This is just the prologue, setting the scene for the fic, but let me know what you guys think <3

June 7, 1982

Langley, Virginia

She’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. 

Her day starts out simple enough. Write memos, respond to emails, read and scribble in the growing stack of files on her desk. Then her department lead tells her Jason Hudson needs to see her and from then on things get very interesting, very fast. 

The brunette makes her way to the briefing room with haste, lithe legs carrying her at the fastest pace considered appropriate in Langley’s corridors. Everyone knew Jason Hudson to be a notorious hardass, but he was a decorated one. A long list of achievements had ensured he sat at the echelon of the clandestine operations unit. 

Now he wanted her. Getting called on by Mr. Shades himself was the lifelong dream of the many that worked at Langley, but now that it’s happening the woman can’t deny the sense of apprehension at the prospect. She had worked minor roles under the direction of other handlers in a few of the smaller ops he’s overseen over the years, but felt she had done nothing then to warrant his attention whatsoever. 

There’s little time to ponder, and before long the briefing room door she’d been directed to enters her field of vision. Shoulders squared and breathing deeply through her nose, knuckles meet the worn wood in delicate but firm raps. A deep voice beckons her forth, and she enters. 

Hudson stands at the far end of the table, one hand in his pocket and the other sifting through a stack of papers currently occupying the surface in front of him. 

“Agent Fletcher.” He greets flatly, not even sparing her a glance as he focuses his gaze on the aforementioned sheets of paper.

“Sir.” She returns, thankful that she’s managed to keep the nervous tremble from her voice and replace it with something pleasant and airy instead. Taking a seat, her delicate hands flatten her pressed slacks as she moves. Her selected chair is close, but maintains a respectable enough distance from her superior.  

“Are you familiar with the name Anthony Lipovetsky, agent?” Hudson cuts to the chase, starting as soon as she’s settled. His cold stare shifts to acknowledge her presence, and a chill comes over her as she stares into those signature reflective shades.

They both knew the answer to his question. Aria Fletcher worked mainly in the drug and contraband trafficking sector of the CIA. 

Of course she knew who he was. 

Anthony Lipovetsky had steadily become a pain in the DEA’s ass recently, according to what she had been hearing. Though he wasn’t anyone particularly prolific that warranted the CIA’s attention like some others had. Out of the many individuals Hudson could have pulled her here to ask about, the Russian - American was the least expected.

“Drug trafficker making some big moves along the east coast, but he’s not the biggest fish in the pond.” Aria answers, sounding matter of fact as she stares back at the other. It’s more of a question of a statement. Why him? 

“You’re right. He isn’t, but it’s recently come to our attention that he’s been dabbling into arms smuggling.” Hudson counters, but it still isn’t the answer she’s looking for. 

“Unsurprising. He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last.” The younger states, but there’s more to this and she knows it. She takes a gamble and makes an educated guess. “Would I be correct in guessing we’re here right now because of his choice in clientele?” 

The female agent can only hope Hudson doesn’t think she’s trying to be a smartass, but all she can do is speculate. It’s the only reasonable assumption that comes to mind seeing as the The CIA doesn’t like it very much when people sell guns to the bad guys, and they especially don’t like it if they’re the type of bad guys who like terrorism. 

“Precisely.” Hudson answers, and the agent has to fight the urge to smile. Right on the ball.

“We have solid intel that he’s been in contact with a soviet agent named Perseus.” The elder continues even seriously, voice grim as he makes the acknowledgment.

Oh. Oh. 

The name Perseus wasn’t one she was familiar with, but the words Soviet Agent had stood out. This was bigger than the domestic drug trade, this was the Soviet Union making way into their backyard. 

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

“So, what’s the plan?” The young woman queries, a touch hesitant at what role she has to play in something that now seems entirely out of her league. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, but a knock at the door interrupts. Her head snaps towards the door as Hudson grants entrance, and in walks Russell Adler. 

Langley legend, ‘America’s Monster’ The man’s in a different league even when compared to a heavyweight like Hudson. He’s pretty much a myth. She’s heard the stories about him, both personal and professional. His portfolio of work is way above her pay grade, and his presence immediately makes the entire thing immensely more interesting. 

She rode an elevator with him once, almost a year back. The encounter was barely a minute long, but she never forgot how devastatingly attractive the man was, with looks that easily could have landed him in Hollywood. Not to mention the way the man carried himself, assertive and with an undeniable dominance. 

Adler doesn’t introduce himself, and doesn’t even spare her a glance nor a word as he takes the seat adjacent to Hudson. His shaded eyes are focused straight ahead as he pulls a cigarette from the pack he seemingly carried in, perching the stick between his lips and igniting it with a zippo lighter that had appeared from God knows where. 

Aria hadn’t realized she had been staring until Hudson tosses something at her from his place at the table, the sound jolting her back to attention. A manila folder glides quietly across the stained wood to land neatly in front of her, only two words on the front.

Operation Ocelot. 

“Let’s get started.” Hudson announces. She opens the file, and things begin to unravel. 

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Operation Ocelot consists of a covert insertion of two agents into Anthony Lipovetsky’s Miami home. That part sounds simple enough, but the devil is definitely in the details.

For the time being, it was prudent Lipovetsky’s connection to Perseus remained intact. They needed a paper trail to follow, and one they could follow without arousing Lipovetsky’s suspicion. There was no real point in spying on someone if they knew they were being spied on.

“The target is well guarded, the man has a price on his head and he’s well aware. Armed security teams around the clock, cameras around the house, the whole package.” Hudson states, slides on the projector screen behind him changing to show a floorplan of the house. 

“Is this where I come in?” Aria questions, it’s easy to assume that’s the only reason why she’s here. 

It seems they’ve selected her to be the honeypot, an unfortunate consequence of being at the very least a mildly attractive woman in the CIA. Sexuality had proven to be man’s greatest weakness time and time again, and it become just a part of the job. She knew if it was something she didn’t want to do, she could easily say no. But then again, she had killed many people in her time as an agent, and one had quickly learned how to detach emotions from entire aspects of life as necessary. 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but she swears she sees Hudson and Adler share a look before the former answers her. “It’s where you and Adler come in.” 

Adler in the meanwhile, hasn’t spoken throughout the entire thing. He hadn’t even looked at her yet, his sightline having been maintained firmly on the projector screen ahead as Hudson led the briefing. The end of his cigarette had burned red in the darkness as he took steady pulls from it throughout, the only sign of life in an otherwise detached and glacial man. 

And now, Russell Adler is looking at her. Dark aviators like twin blackholes that threaten to swallow her whole. 

At this point the young agent is visibly confused, as demonstrated by Hudson moving to clarify the statement. “Through our surveillance program we’ve been able to observe the targets' routines and behaviours, and it has been noted that Lipovetsky has a particular…habit.” 

“He wants a threesome?” Aria blurts, now fiddling with the gold chain on her neck. 

This whole thing just got really fucking weird. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, likely looking for a way to word the whole thing professionally, but to her utter surprise Adler is the one who decides to cut to the chase. 

“He likes taking home married couples.” He states bluntly, nonchalant as he focuses on crushing the charred stub of his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. 

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Adler speak, his voice low and warm. Though it’s not the sort of warmth one would typically associate with kindness, but rather it brings to mind the heat of a fire and danger. There’s a roughness there too, likely from his smoking, but oh how well does it suit him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…interesting.” Aria huffs with a laugh, feeling honestly a bit relieved. There were definitely weirder things in the world that people were into that she feared. Instead, her body tingles with interest. Married couple. 

“Why me then? This isn’t necessarily my normal line of work.” The woman questions. They could have chosen anyone, but they had chosen her. Hundreds of beautiful women worked here everyday but they somehow settled on her? 

“You both make an…attractive pair. You fit the bill in terms of the target’s preferences, as well the vacation demographic in the city.” Hudson says, arms crossed at his chest. “Apart from that, you’ve so far had an impressive field career, your performance is consistent and high quality.” 

The female agent can’t help the pride that burns in her chest at the praise from such a distinguished and highly respected man like Jason Hudson. Everything suddenly felt like a dream. 

“There’s a lot to lose here, we need more than a pretty face. You’ve got what we need.” Hudson emphasizes, the importance of this mission heavily ingrained to the back of her mind. 

“So…I’m going to play Adler’s pretty little trophy wife and then we’re going to collectively seduce our way into his house?” Aria wonders aloud, Adler and Hudson not moving to interrupt and permitting her speculation to continue. “And then what? Are we expected to fuck the information out of him?” 

Hudson sighs, pinching at his brow in exasperation. Adler jumps in once more, saving Hudson from further embarrassment. “We’re gonna slip him a sedative before things get to that. Special cocktail that’ll make him think he just drank a little too much.”

“Oh, thank god.” The youngest utters under her breath, relieved. Things were definitely easier that way.

“Once he’s out, we’ll mess with the camera system, do recon, collect intel, then get the fuck out.” Adler finishes, intense stare levelled right at her once more. She couldn’t help but squirm, he was almost too much to handle just by existing.

And God, she could listen to that voice all day. She was going to listen to it all day in a short matter of time.

She really loved her job sometimes.

“Sounds simple enough.” Aria resigns, casual as she accepted that her life was just really going to be this outlandish for the next little while. 

“You and Adler will set out the day before and go through the motions and leave a paper trail of your own. The target might try and track you both down just to check his bases.” Hudson adds, arms crossed as he switches his gaze back and forth between her and Adler. 

“If we leave evidence that we’re just a normal couple doing normal things, it’ll reassure the target there wasn’t any outside involvement and we weren’t up to no good.” Aria finishes, one arm perched on the armrest of her chair and the other fiddling with her pen as she returns Hudson’s gaze. 

“Precisely.” Hudson agrees, voice carrying the smallest hint of sympathy. 

It’s almost like he feels bad for her. 

Hudson dismisses them soon after, handing them directives on the particulars of their individual roles and aliases. Adler storms ahead of her to the exit, moving out without so much as acknowledging her once again.

He was an asshole, but a ridiculously good looking one. She would learn to play his game soon enough, and oh, she would press his buttons.

Hudson is quick to catch her disgruntled reaction at Adler’s behaviour. “Adler’s not the most personable, but he’s a damn good agent. He’ll have your back.” The elder reassures, perhaps seeking to soothe the burn of the other’s abrasive nature. 

The woman sighs, turning to flash Hudson a tight lipped smile. “I’ll figure him out, I’m not worried.”

She finishes packing away her items and gets ready to leave, eager to get started on the work ahead. Hudson calls her again as she reaches the door, making her pause in her tracks.

“Remember agent, don’t let me down.” 

Nodding with silent determination, she leaves.

[rotzaprachim]

ok someone literally force me to finish this but ted lasso au with zoya as roy literally the most important thing 

trigger warning for...  grooming and  abuse and everything implied about zoya’s past in the books

[And there’d been the awful part of zoya that sat in the narrow strips of time she sat feeling sorry for herself and blaming the world for her own inertia when Kirigan came calling and told her she was meant for the greatest of things.] And Zoya had been seventeen, and embarrassed to have to ring home every time she needed to have her aunt give the all clear to do fucking anything, and embarrased to have to call in days for holidays her manager had never heard of, and embarrassed to go the pub after practice sessions with only her school ID. She’d been embarrassed until she’d scored the winning goal her first real game and she’d sat, exhausted and elated with an ice pack ace-wrapped to her shins, with the usual soda water and half-glass of maraschino cherries the bartender always gave her as consolation prize to her youth, now slick, smug, joyful nod that she was younger than any of them and could do twice the job of the more senior players on the team. 

“My little shining star,” Kirigan had said, pulling her up to stand on the stool at the head of the table so the players could clap and cheer for her under his icy gaze. Zoya smiled inwardly under the team member’s smirks, happy they so clearly hated her. “The best player in this league. Watch how she slams down the way for the rest of you.” And Zoya had been so proud she’d been chosen for something, and done well. 

Her first year, Zoya won and won and won. She graced the cover of the Guardian and the Independent and got to be number nine on Seventeen Magazine’s Eighteen under Eighteen, wearing the kind of poofy tulle dress Zoya would never have been caught wearing at the dances she’d skipped off of at school. She won some more. She got offers on offers and Kirigan gave them to her from a stack on his shiny wood desk and she’d known she could never, ever leave the team that made them. She won games. Kirigan took her to events that didn’t ask for her ID anymore and gave her as many tall, skinny glasses of fizzy-sweet champagne as she could drink [without being sick in restrooms where you dried your hands on thick fabric towels.] Kirigan took her to restaurants that printed their menus in French and handed out bread with little metal tongues. When the meal was finished, he paid, smiling, and with a knowing glance at her still-pubescent, train-seven-hours-a-day screaming hunger, walked her right around the block to places cut into the red-brick crevasses of the city where they destroyed platters of pirogi and mutton curry and vegetable biryani, the same grease on both their fingers. Kirigan took her to parties and pronounced her the rising star to save all of football, worldwide, and for the first time the things he said about Zoya felt heavy, but it was a good sort of weight, the kind she’d been young enough to believe her shoulders were wide enough to carry. Kirigan personally handed her the rising tide of presents Zoya thought were gifts, artisanal coffee and avant garde silver journey from designers who’d give anything for her to wear their product in public, and when the little velvet boxes came straight from Kirigan’s hands, Zoya could pretend they were gifts from him. Kirigan picked her up in his shiny black limousine and took her to an event at the top of a skyscraper in the center of the city where on a white leather couch sat a man Kirigan bowed to and called the king of sports. On his right arm was a redhead who Kirigan kissed the hand of and Zoya hated her beyond anyone she’d ever hated. On the elevator down Kirigan told Zoya what she was. 

“Not like you,” he said. “My little shining star.” 

When the team played away games, they slept four to a room in Premier Inns and ate breakfast bars from Aldi flatpacks. Zoya didn’t mind. She liked, in a way, being the kiddo let indulgently into the adult worlds the other players were in a spectral array dealing with: down payments on posh flats, mother-in-laws, alimony checks. Sex, sex, and more sex. When they played Cardiff halfway through the season, Zoya got a signed letter from Kirigan suggesting it might be inappropriate for her to continue her sleeping arrangements while she was still a minor. She stayed in the Marriot, in her own room, and sat on the surprisingly cold bed sheets holding her phone to call home and feeling somehow like she shouldn’t. Like her aunt would be angry with her, for her good fortune, for the endless rivers of milk and honey flowing so steadily from Zoya’s hard work. So she didn’t call home that time, just like she didn’t wear her awkward home-knit jumpers and sale-bin clothing, just like she cut her home visits to the High Holidays and stayed up playing the rest of the year. Her aunt told her she must be busy, that she loved her always, that she understood. 

Zoya slammed shut her phone. She ordered ludicrously expensive tomato soup on Kirigan’s tab, to see if she could. She wandered the city at night on her own, looping up from the harbour to the football stadium that had a mast stuck to the side of it, pretending to be a boat. There was a crowd in a pub around there, singing in a language that she could not understand but knew was about the football playing on the television and because it was about football it was her language, and she could. They stood with their arms around each other, singing, and Zoya walked down to the river and felt all the things she felt terrible for feeling, when her life was this good. 

She knew, then. The trouble was that Zoya knew. The whole fucking time, she knew. She was not a person for whom good things ever lasted. 

The next morning Zoya did not eat the flat-packed breakfast bars. She had the croissants and sliced pineapple and little glass jars of yogurt with foil lids that room service sent up. She showered and tied up her hair in a perfect swishy ponytail and when she came downstairs packed and ready Kirigan was waiting for her. He had reception call them a car, and on the way to the stadium Zoya’s stomache felt oddly swishy. 

She won. She almost laughed, afterwards. The idea that do anything else was ridiculous. It was what she had been made to do. 

----

He didn’t fuck her till she was twenty five and on a six-year loss streak. That one didn’t come out until the court hearings, and after she said it, Zoya felt a dirtiness unlike anything she’d ever felt before, rising up out of the cut marble floor and coating every inch of her impeccable Armani suit.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 4.

Chapter 4: 864 days

(Not my gif.)

Summary: Bridgett brings a date to a party at Rossi’s house. Spencer gets extremely jealous and angry. While working a case with Bridgett, he says some words he doesn’t mean. He goes to Bridgett’s apartment to apologize, and those 3 little words are finally said. 

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x OC! Plus size character, Bridgett Mendez

TW: Alcohol mentions, Spencer being mean, language, I think that’s all!

Word Count: 4k

A.N.: This is season 5 Spencer, like tail end of season 5. Please reblog! Italicized words are inner thoughts. 

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

“So Rossi needs a headcount for how many people are coming over tonight. He said he hasn’t heard back from only you, Bridge.”

JJ says, joining Bridgett and Garcia gossiping at Bridgett’s desk.

“Oh yeah sorry, I was kinda waiting to hear from… this guy I’m bringing along tonight.”

Both of the girls eyes get wide, staring at Bridgett.

“You’re bringing someone? Who is he?! I need to know everything, now.” Penelope squeals, leaning back in her chair.

Bridgett laughs, knowing that this was going to be the hot topic of the day.

“It’s this guy I’ve been dating for like 2 weeks. His name is Angel.”

“Okay, okay, Angel. Angel and Bridgett… Bridgett and Angel. Doesn’t necessarily roll off the tongue but keep going.” Penelope says.

“I met him at the coffee shop by my apartment. It was that one morning Hotch needed us to come in at like 6am so I grabbed some coffee and they were getting a delivery while I was waiting and the delivery guy noticed me, I noticed him after the third time he passed me by. So I smiled at him and he stopped to talk to me on my way out. We've gone on a few dates and he’s really nice.”

“Just nice? Are you not completely into him?” JJ questions.

“I don’t know, he’s nice, and he is cute. But I don’t know it’s weird, I know you’re both going to say I’m selling myself short but he’s out of my league. Our connection is good when we’re together but I can’t help but think that maybe he’s just putting a front on. It’s all probably just in my head… right?”

“If it’s only been a few dates this is all still new. The both of you are trying to figure each other out. I wouldn’t discredit him just yet, sweetheart.” Penelope interjects, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.

JJ’s phone rings from her pocket, her groaning and leaving out the door to the elevator.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to bring another guy tonight? I’m not judging, I just don’t think that there’s *someone you didn’t think about.”

Bridgett knew who she was talking about as soon as she said it, and she was right, Bridgett didn’t think about Spencer.

“You don’t know for sure if Spence likes me, Penelope.”

“Um, Earth to madam profiler! Bridgy, the boy is beyond in love with you. You don’t see what everyone else in this office sees when you talk to him, or when someone talks about you.”

Bridgett sighs, rubbing her temple with her fingers lightly.

“What am I supposed to do? I’m genuinely asking I’m not trying to be a bitch but, am I supposed to wait, god knows how long, for him to make the first move? I don’t make the first move. Ever. That’s not me and it makes me want to physically puke even thinking about it. What if he never does it? Then what?”

“I know, beautiful, and I didn’t mean to make you question dating other people, but I just want you to think about it.”

***

Bridgett felt off the rest of the day after her talk with Garcia. She almost wanted to just call Angel and tell him that there had been a change of plans and she wasn’t going to the party anymore. But he had told her on the phone a few nights ago he had gotten a special outfit for the night.

Bridgett sits on the couch, her hair flowing down her back, makeup fresh on her face, and a dark maroon dress clinging to her body, the dress ending mid thigh. While she was staring at her phone deciding on whether or not she was going to call Angel and cancel, it starts ringing, his name appearing on screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey you, I’m on my way to come get you. I’ll be there in about 5 minutes.”

Her stomach turns, but in a good way.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting. See you in a bit.”

She slips her heels on, leaving them for the last minute knowing they were going to kill her feet by the end of the night. She paced back and forth, double and triple checking she had everything in her clutch. there’s a knock at the door in a rhythmic pattern, one that Angel frequented when he came over to pick her up. Bridgett walks to answer the door, opening it with a smile. He smiles back, handing her a single red rose.

“For you.” He smiles, kissing her cheek. Bridgett’s cheeks get warm, a nervous laugh coming from her mouth.

“Thank you. You look very handsome.”

He looked so incredibly handsome in the dark brown button up tucked into black dress pants he was wearing, everything head to toe was on point and it made her swoon a little bit.

“Are you ready to go? I’m definitely going to need directions to your coworker’s house.”

***

“This is going to sound very shallow, but how much money do FBI agents make? This house is huge.” Angel whispers to Bridgett, walking up to Rossi’s house.

“He used to work for the FBI back in the day, he retired and wrote a couple of books and he started doing book tours and signing, lectures. So he always hosts parties because this is his house. He’s a great guy, you’ll like him.”

Bridgett was beyond nervous for everyone to meet this new guy. Especially since he was so new in her life. And since the conversation she had with Penelope, she was nervous if she was right how Spencer would react.

She rings the doorbell to the large house, waiting for someone to answer the door. Derek opens the door, a surprising look on his face.

“Hey Bridge. Come on in.” Derek studies Angel up and down.

“Derek, this is Angel. Angel this is Derek. He and I work together at the Buerau. He’s our resident badass and big brother.”

The front of the house fills with the rest of the team members; Emily, JJ, Penelope, Hotch, Rossi, but no Spencer. She introduces everyone to Angel , Rossi handing both of them a drink after the introductions are done.

***

The mood was light while everyone was inside sitting around a large table, everyone talking and laughing.

“I gotta use the restroom. I’ll be back, if I’m not back in 10 send a search party.” Angel jokes, making Bridgett laugh.

“Hey pretty boy made it!” Derek calls out, everyone’s attention turning to Spencer. He smiles and waves awkwardly, coming to join everyone else. He had a nice plum colored button up on with a skinny solid black tie, and of course his converse on. He looked really handsome. Bridgett waves at him from her seat, Spencer walking over and sitting on the opposite side of her.

“You’re late. What took you so long?” Bridgett teases.

“The subway. It randomly broke down right before I was supposed to get off for 15 minutes.”

“Well hey, don’t worry about taking the subway home, I’ll just take you. I’m sticking to one glass tonight, I’m not going to be drunk.”

Spencer smiles at her, nodding his head as he takes a drink from his glass, “Yeah that would be great thanks Bridge.”

Bridgett feels the chair on her other side slide back, Angel touching her bare shoulder as he sits back down. Spencer’s eyes fixate on the stranger, his eyes flickering back and forth between him and Bridgett.

“Who’s this?” Spencer questions.

“Oh I’m Angel, I’m Bridgett’s date.”

The room fell quiet, everyone watching the exchange. Spencer’s jaw clenched, taking a longer swig of his drink.

“Date huh? Nice.” He says under his breath.

Bridgett’s cheeks getting hot, getting through this dinner was going to be interesting.

Spencer was beyond fuming, but in the back of his mind he knew he had no true right to feel this angry.  But seeing that the girl he’s in love with be touched and goggled over made him seethe with rage.

If you weren’t such a goddamn wimp, maybe Bridgett and you could have gone together as a date, but no you have to be afraid of fucking everything.

Spencer knocks the glass of wine back, asking Rossi if he had anything stronger., to which he offered him his best scotch and Spencer took. He quickly shoots that one down, instantly regretting it once he feels the fire in his throat.

Bridgett watches him cough after hearing him swallow the shot, in the few years she’s know Spencer, he’s had maybe half a sip of champagne, and again… it was half a sip. “Woah, slowdown, I can’t carry you out of here.” Bridgett comments, laughing slightly.

Spencer pours another shot full, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time while he slowly sips, finishing yet another glass.

“Slow enough for you?”

***

Spencer didn’t speak one word while everyone was eating , anytime Bridgett spoke to him, Spencer wouldn’t look at her, he just nodded his head and take a heavy drink. He got more and more angry throughout the night, nobody else could tell if it was the alcohol or Angel.

Not too long after dinner was over some of the team started to leave. Angel wraps his arm around Bridgett’s waist, kissing her cheek.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Angel whispers in her ear. Bridgett giggles, smiling at him.

“Okay. I told my friend Spencer I would take him home, so I need to drop him off before I get home. Let me go find him.”

Bridgett walks to the backyard to try to find Spencer, not finding him with the rest of the team that was still here. She walks back inside, finding Derek and Penelope before they leave.

“Hey, have you seen Spence? I was supposed to give him a ride home.”

Derek sighs, throwing his jacket on. Penelope stares at Derek then back at Bridgett.

“He uhh… got a call from his mom’s care facility. He left like 10 minutes ago.”

“Oh my god is she okay?”

“He didn’t say. He was… upset.” Derek states, rubbing her shoulder in comfort. “I’ll see you Monday morning, mama.”

Bridgett walks to Rossi and Emily chatting with Angel, her coat in his hands.

“Hey, Spence took off because of a family emergency. So if you still want to head out, we can.”

Angel nods his head, helping Bridgett put her coat on and saying his goodbyes to the pair before walking hand and hand out with Bridgett back to her car.

***

Bridgett walks through the elevator, pulling the door open to the dugout. She spots Spencer at his desk, not expecting him to be at work this morning.

“Hey, you’re here. How’s your mom?”

Spencer barely turns his head to give Bridgett a dirty look, going back to scribbling something in his notebook.

“Fine.” He says plainly.

“Garcia said that you left Rossi’s party the other night because you got a call from your mom’s care facility that something happened. And you didn’t answer my phone calls all weekend. I was worried about you.”

Spencer gets up from his desk with a sigh, whizzing past her toward the conference room. Bridgett stands there, completely confused why he wasn’t speaking to her.

“Hey mama, we have a local case, Hotch said a briefing in 5.” Derek says, passing by her quickly.

Bridgett sets her bag at her desk, taking her notebook and pen with her to the conference room, sitting in her usual spot next to Spencer.

“Hey, are you okay?” She asks quietly.

Spencer visibly rolls his eyes, fidgeting with his pen between his fingers.

“Yup. Just fine.”

Bridgett opens her mouth to ask him another question but everyone grabs their seat as JJ begins briefing everyone on their case.

***

Hotch had Bridgett and Spencer partner up to examine the crime scene and Spencer was beyond annoyed. Bridgett could feel the anger and tension between both of them the car ride to the crime scene. She wanted to ask what his deal was but she didn’t want there to be more anger in the air when they got to their destination.

While they were examining the crime scene and talking with the town sheriff, Spencer undermined every single thing she asked, said, or thought and it was pissing her off.

After a few hours they were ready to head back to headquarters and Bridgett was furious.

“Hey, Spencer, could you have me a tissue please?” Bridgett asks, motioning to the glove compartment. Spencer sighs loudly, opening the drawer and slamming the door closed hard. That was it.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Bridgett yells. “Why are you being such a fucking dick? What did I do to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Bridgett bites her cheek, putting her turn signal on and pulling off to the side of the road.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asks, raising his voice.

“No, what are you doing?! I don’t know why you’re pissed off at me, but you making me look like I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about when we’re working is not okay. This attitude you’ve had with me all morning is starting to piss me off and I’m over it! What did I do?”

Spencer sits quietly, gathering his thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

Bridgett was about 2 seconds away from screaming in anger, her hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“So instead of being a fucking adult you’re choosing to act like a child and not tell me why you’re angry with me? Real mature Spencer. You know, for a genius, you can be real dumb sometimes.” She fires off at him.

“Nice to know that’s what you think of me.” Spencer says quietly, grabbing his satchel, opening the car door and walking away from the car.

Bridgett sits dumbfounded. She gets out of the car, running after him. “Spencer! What are you doing?!”

He has his back turned to her, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.” Bridgett repeats his name over and over again, getting under his skin.

Once he hangs the phone up he begins walking away again.

“Goddamn it! Where are you going?” She shouts, Spencer stopping in his tracks.

“Going back to work. I’m not riding with you back. I called a cab”

“Why are you being like this? What did I do Spencer?!” She was pissed, getting upset, and tired.

“You’re being a shitty friend!” Spencer yells, visibly taken back at what he even just yelled.

Bridgett stares at him, tears clouding her vision. “I’m not a shitty friend.” She says with a light voice. “You really think I’m a shitty friend? All the nights I spent on the phone with you because you were having bad nightmares, the time I went to your house at 3:30am because you called me inconsolable, was there for you because you got a call that your mom was having a bad day and you felt guilty for putting her in a mental hospital. All of that I was there for you and you still have the audacity to call me a shitty friend? Really?”

Spencer doesn’t make eye contact with her, his feet kicking the pavement under him. Bridgett walks back to the car, tears flowing down her cheeks at his words. She sits in the car, watching Spencer sit on the sidewalk, waiting for his cab, his head turning every so often to see the car still parked several feet away. Bridgett openly sobbed in the car, she was sensitive enough as it was, but having her best friend call her a shitty friend broke her. She waits in the car until she sees a yellow cab pull up next to Spencer and him get in it. Even though he just pissed her off, she didn’t want him to be by himself in the middle of nowhere. Once she sees him get in she drives off toward the office, still sniffling and the occasional tear rolling down her cheek.

Once she pulls into the parking spot back at the office, she slowly walks inside, trying to get her mind together before having to go back and face the rest of the team. She walks through the doors, throwing the case file on her desk and grabbing her bag to go home.

“Hey, where’s Spence?” Derek asks, popping up behind her.

“Fuck if I know.” Bridgett mumbles, turning to walk out for the day.

“Wait! Where are you going? What happened? Are you crying?” Derek rattles his questions off one after the other.

Bridgett continues walking out, ignoring Derek talking to her. She presses the elevator down button, waiting for it to come. She feels someone next to her, Derek. She sighs, folding her arms over her chest. The doors open, both of them walking in.

“What’s wrong?”

Bridgett clears her throat, choking back a sob.

“Spencer and I got into it… he got out of the car on the way back and called a cab to come get him because we were yelling at each other. He called me a shitty friend.”

“He’s going to kill me for saying this, but the reason he left on Saturday was because he was angry that you brought that kid with you to the party. He sort of has a thing for you.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that, you, Garcia, but he hasn’t made a move on me. I’m not going to wait for him to do it. I know that sounds mean but I can’t wait forever.”

Derek nods his head. “I know. I’ve been trying to tell him. And I told him the other night too. I’ve never seen him so mad. It definitely didn’t help that he was drinking everything in sight. But I can tell you that you’re not a shitty friend. Spencer just says what’s on his mind when he’s mad.”

“So that means he has it in his head that I’m shitty to him.”

Derek shakes his head, giving her a tight hug.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Let me talk to him. See if I can get him to calm down. Go home, I’ll tell Hotch you got sick on the job and take the rest of the day to make yourself feel better, alright?”

Bridgett nods, giving him a hug.

***

Bridgett grabs the plate of her favorite comfort meal, breakfast food drenched in hot sauce, and takes it over to the couch, flipping through the tv channels to find something to watch for the night. Her favorite movie was already loaded into her DVD player from the last time she watched it, and that was probably what she was going to settle for. As she takes a huge mouthful of eggs there’s a soft knock at the door. She groans, quickly chewing her food, opening the door quickly. Spencer is standing there, his head down, fidgeting with the leather strap across his chest.

“Hi.” He says quietly.

“Hello.” Bridgett responds, a hint  of attitude in her tone, still a little bitter at him for his earlier outburst.

Spencer bites his bottom lip, awkwardly fixing her doormat with his foot to straighten it out.

“I was wondering if I could talk… if we could talk.”

“What about?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, still not letting him inside.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” Finally looking into Bridgett’s eyes.

“Oh really? Okay well I’m listening.”

Spencer sighs, tapping his fingers on his bag.

“Derek told me that you went back to work crying… about what I said to you and I didn’t mea-“

Bridgett interrupts, just to get under his skin. “What did you say to me? I forgot.” She questions, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Well she isn’t going to make this easy.

“I… I called you a shitty friend. And I didn’t mean it, Bridge. I was angry and I should have never said it because it’s far from the truth. You’re the only true friend I’ve ever had, and I feel like such a dick for saying it to you. I probably can’t ever apologize enough to make up for it, but my apology is genuine.”

Bridgett continues to stare at him for a few seconds, she could tell he really was sorry for his harsh words, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t be mad at him.

“Come in.” She moves from the middle of the doorway, letting Spencer in. He walks in, following her to the couch.

“I want you to be honest with me, because I already know the answer to the question.”

Spencer nods his head, playing with a loose string on her throw pillows.

“Do you have romantic feelings for me?”

Spencer’s eyes grow wide, almost in a cartoonish way. He drops eye contact with Bridgett, his heart beating a million miles per hour.

Tell her. Tell her now. She already knows. Tell. Her.

“Yeah.” He says, no sound coming out of his mouth, his vocal chords frozen. He clears his throat, “Yeah, I have feelings for you. I have for a while now.”

“How long is a while?” Bridgett questions, feeling a bit of relief that he finally admits it.

“476 days. Since the night at the hotel… in Idaho. Well actually 388 days before that, it’s kinda why what happened in Idaho… happened. So 864 days total.”

Bridgett nods her head, trying to hide the smirk on her face, remembering very fondly of what happened in Idaho.

“And why did you feel the need to hide the fact you had feelings for me that weren’t just sexual feelings? Why do you think that you couldn’t tell me you liked me in a romantic way?”

“I don’t know. I was scared that you were going to laugh in my face when I told you that I fell in lo-.” He stops himself before he says the word.

“Fell in love with me?” Bridgett asks, finishing his sentence.  

He nods his head, afraid to say the words.

“I wouldn’t laugh at you. And to be honest with you, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t like you too. I haven’t been in love with you for 800 days, but I do love you.”

Spencer stays quiet, smiling to himself. “864 days.”

Bridgett rolls her eyes and elbows his arm playfully.

“Oh, so sorry 864 days. Since we’re talking about how many days we’ve been in love with each other, I've been in love with you for about…” Bridgett pauses as she does the math in her head, not anywhere close to how fast Spencer’s brain worked. “730 days.”

“Really?”

Bridgett nods her head, “Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to love you. You know what solidified my love for you? Do you remember when we were flying back from Seattle, and you were exhausted, we were sitting together, we had barely been in the air for 20 minutes and I felt your head rest on my shoulder. I looked over at you and you were passed out. I put my head on yours and I fell asleep too. When I woke up, Emily had a picture on her phone she had taken of us and I knew that I loved you.”

Spencer touched Bridgett’s cheek with his thumb softly, staring at her deep brown eyes. He takes Bridgett’s hand in his, holding them close to his chest.

“I love you Bridgett, and I really want to make you happy.”

She lets go of his hands and places both of them on each side of his face, giving him a smile.

“I forgive you.” She says softly, kissing his lips. “And I love you too.”

“So does this mean you’re my… girlfriend?”

Bridgett kisses his lips softly, smiling at him lovingly.

“Yes, yes it does mean I’m your girlfriend. You good with that?”

“Very. I’m very good with that.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Oldest and Newest

Damian tugged down his face mask as he looked out over Gotham city. He was finally here.

After two decades of anticipation, after nearly a decade of work, it should have been a happy occasion.

He tugged the mask back up as he heard a scream nearby.

He stopped three muggings, saved a woman from assault, and stopped a robbery by the time a flicker of purple started following him.

He scared off some men that were following a woman then pretended to take off northward before ducking around a water tower and sneaking up on his pursuer as they tried to follow. He took them in before approaching.

They looked about five foot six. The dark body armor and cloak hid their build some, but the way they carried themself proved they were muscular even if not overly broad. As he grew closer, he could see that the armor was primarily black with dark purple detailing that matched the cloak’s color. They also wore a full face mask like his friend Vesper’s, though theirs had white lenses that stood out against the black fabric instead of being completely black like the older vigilante. They were cautious, yet sure-footed as they raced over the rooftops which showed a familiarity with the territory and an understanding of its dangers.

Similarly, their growing annoyance showed they’d realized they’d lost him so Damian swooped in to pin them against an air conditioning unit. They tried to throw him off, but his larger size and superior skills kept them pinned long enough to bind their hands and tie them to the unit.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” he growled, crossing his arms and looming over them.

They stared at him for a moment, head tilting to the side, then snorted. “No wonder he got mistaken for B a few times. Are you seeing this guy?” the young woman -- judging by her voice -- muttered to herself before saying, “I’m Spoiler and I’m following you because you randomly showed up in Gotham and started playing vigilante. Don’t you know Batman doesn’t like that?”

“And yet, here you are doing the same.”

“Excuse you, I’m Batman’s partner. I earned my place on these rooftops.”

“Right.”

She tilted up her chin and crossed her arms. “I am!”

Damian frowned, but didn’t move to redo the ties she’d slipped. Vesper had told him that his father was a solo hero. Batman worked with the Justice League and the Birds of Prey as necessary, but he’d never had a permanent confidant or taken on an apprentice like some of the other heroes. The closest thing he had to partners were the Batgirls. According to Vesper, though, neither ever developed a close bond with the man. The two might be called in as backup or would team up with his father when their paths crossed, but they never depended on one another. His father was more of an inspiration, patron, and occasional teammate than a partner to either woman.

Spoiler didn’t seem to be lying, however, and appeared too forward to be capable of deceiving him. Had something changed in the four years since he’d talked to Vesper? Perhaps he should have gone with his original plan of waiting to go out until after he’d spoken with her the next day after all.

Hindsight and such were not going to change the present, however.

He looked over the woman again. Girl, he realized. Given her proportions, she was likely in her mid-teens though he could be wrong as the armor was rather concealing. An apprentice, then, which explained why she had not fallen beside her supposed partner. The mission his father perished on must have been deemed too dangerous for her to accompany him.

He carefully thought over his next words. He was not ready to announce his presence yet as clearly he had some research to do and he needed to speak with Vesper. He also didn’t know how trustworthy Spoiler was. Even if she was telling the truth about being his father’s partner, that did not tell him just how far his father’s trust in her went and therefore how far he should trust her in turn.

He stepped back from the girl, dropping his arms and attempting to take on a less antagonistic posture. “Then I am sorry for your loss.”

“Loss?” Spoiler questioned.

“Batman’s death,” he answered slowly. Had no one told her?

“What? Batman’s not dead.”

Oh, no, she was simply trying to hide the truth. “My contacts within the Justice League say otherwise.”

Batman's death had left Flamebird uncharacteristically despondent of late, understandably given how close his father and Damian’s were and the fact Flamebird had been on the mission where Batman perished.

“Someone’s going to get an ass beating,” she muttered, storming to her feet. She poked him in the chest. “So what, you find out Batman’s gone and decide that means you have a free pass to just do whatever you want in my city.”

Damian pushed her hand away, fighting down the urge to stab it. “As I think we’ve established, I had no idea you existed. I simply had business in Gotham and thought I’d do some good for a recently undefended city.”

“Yeah, well, now you know the city is being defended.”

“By a child, yes,” Damian scoffed before he could stop himself and the girl bristled.

“Who the fickle frack are you to judge me?”

After being momentarily stunned by her euphemism, he answered, “I am Ẓill.”

She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Yeah, no offense, it’s def a me problem, but if I try to say that I will totally beat it to hell and back with a tire iron then set it on fire and spit on it just for good measure. Is that an alien language?”

“Arabic.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, that’s why I’m sticking to the Romance languages for now.” She glanced to the side. “Do you know Arabic?”

“I-” he started, but she waved him quiet.

“I thought you were going to learn after the last run-in with… Okay, yeah, that’s fair. So… Well of course he can, the little polyglot.” She turned back to Damian as he started to wonder if the girl was insane. “So your name translates to Shadow. Mind if I just call you that because, again, I will not be responsible for the atrocity that leaves my mouth if I try to pronounce Arabic without time to practice.”

“Shadow is fine.” She wouldn’t be the first, as it had taken both Flamebird and Beacon awhile to learn how to pronounce his name properly, and the Ismoian still called him that on occasion as a nickname. More accurately she called him Shadow the Hedgehog, but that was a reference he refused to investigate given Flamebird’s reaction to it. “Who are you talking to?”

She gestured to the side of her head. “Augur. He’s our eye-in-the-sky computer guy. Hacking, running comms, information gathering, strategy, all that fun stuff.”

“I thought Oracle worked with Batman when he needed assistance with that.”

“Oracle? I mean, she helped train Augur and helps out when he needs a hand, but she’s got the Birds of Prey and Vesper, not to mention helping out the Justice League sometimes. I think she used to do a lot more for Batman back before Augur, but she’s got her own shit to do now. Augur’s our main man.”

He really should have waited to speak to Vesper. Clearly his information was more out of date than he thought.

“So, Shadow Weaver, what brings you to Gotham then?”

“Shadow Weaver?” He growled when she nodded, radiating amusement. That was clearly another reference he didn’t want to know anything about. “My being here is none of your concern.”

“Random unknown vigilantes being in my city are, like, the definition of my concern,” she said, cocking a hip.

“Your city?”

“Yeah, my city. So either tell me why you’re here or get lost.”

“And if I don’t?”

She shifted into a fighting stance. “I’ll make you.”

Damian snorted at the threat, then was yanked backward by his hood. He brought his hand up to defend, which was knocked aside.

He froze when he recognized the featureless mask staring down at him.

“I told you to keep your head down,” Vesper reprimanded, poking him in the forehead.

“If you had warned me that Batman had picked up a disciple this wouldn’t have happened,” he huffed and Spoiler pretended to gag.

“Ew, gross, don’t call me that. Makes it sound like I worship B or something, which, yeah, no.”

“Stop picking fights with Spoiler,” Vesper said and poked his forehead again. “Batman is already going to be mad enough.”

Damian’s eyes darted away from his friend and, behind Vesper, he saw Spoiler flinch.

Vesper let him back up and shoved him away. She turned to Spoiler. “I’ll deal with him. He’s a friend. Sorry.”

The girl nodded and left.

“Come on.”

The older vigilante led him to the rooftop of a clock tower. She used a biometric scanner to unlock a hidden hatch and they slipped inside, dropping down ropes into a workspace.

There was an elaborate computer setup in one corner, oddly lacking a chair, and a workout space in the other. Mirroring that was a modest medical area in one corner and a kitchenette in the other with seating at the island. Elevator doors stood between the computers and medical area while a couch and some chairs sat at the center of the room.

Pulling off her hood and mask, Cassandra led him to the couch. He removed his own hood and mask then pulled his katana off his back to lean against his leg as he sat next to her on the couch.

“You look good,” she said, glancing over him.

“You too. It’s good to see you again.”

She nodded, then lightly slapped his arm. “What were you thinking, Damian? I know I told you how protective Batman is of his territory.”

Damian’s left hand came up to trace the phoenix engraved onto his right bracer. “When was the last time you spoke to someone in the Justice League?”

She frowned, studying him. “I have been on an Outsiders mission for the past month, and was busy with a show the month before that. If Oracle has worked with them in that time, she hasn’t said anything. Why?”

“A little under a month ago, a JL team went on a mission. I don’t know the full details, but it had something to do with Darkseid and… Batman did not make it back.”

She didn’t react visibly, but her voice was soft when she asked, “You are sure?”

“Jon was on the mission. He said Batman was vaporized right before their eyes. I’m sorry.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. After her moment of silence, she looked up at him, face blank. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you here? Why do you care? You’ve always been interested in Batman, but this is… more.”

He sat up straight, hands fisting on his thighs. “I told you my name was Damian Naji, but that was a lie. My name is actually Damian al Ghul. My mother is Talia al Ghul… and my father was Batman.”

She studied him. “Batman… did not know?”

“Not as far as I am aware. Mother told me she told him she miscarried because I would be a distraction to him and the cause. After everything you’ve told me about him, I think she and Grandfather were just worried he’d take me from them. If she told him after I left, I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You could have come to him for help when you ran away from the League.”

“Tt. You know how I was back then. I was everything Father stood against. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. Not until I could prove I was worthy of him.”

She reached out to take his hand. “That’s not true. He knew my past and he accepted me.”

“You killed one person, instantly regretted it, and never killed again. I spent almost ten years as an assassin. It’s not the same. Besides, you were just an occasional teammate. I’m…”

“His son. Which is exactly why I know he would have loved you. Batman cares deeply for those who he considers his own. Even Oracle and I. He keeps -” She frowned and looked down. “He kept his distance from us, but only because he felt he didn’t have a right to us. Oracle had a parent and was independent, only needing help getting her feet under her. I was an adult, legally, when we met and Oracle took on my training since she was the one who found me and had practice working with younger heroes due to assisting Black Canary with the Justice League’s minor division. Had he found you, though, he wouldn’t have hesitated. You would have been his.

“He would not have been happy about how you were raised, but he still would have loved you. He would not have turned you away, even if you had wanted to continue down the path of an assassin. He would have seen that wasn’t what you wanted, though, and taught you a new way. You would not have had to do it on your own.”

Damian shook his head. “No, I had to prove that I wasn’t what my mother made me. I had to prove I could follow his rules, only then could I present myself as his heir.”

“You wouldn’t have had to prove anything to him.”

He pulled his hand away to trail it against his bracer again. “Perhaps you are right. You knew him better than I. But I did have to prove it to myself.”

She shook her head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders despite him being a head taller and twice as wide. “How?”

“My first kill was on my sixth birthday. I was fifteen when we met and I decided to leave behind the League’s ways in favor of Father’s. It… took me longer than I liked to push through the instincts to kill so on my sixteenth birthday I made an oath. Ten years of saving lives to atone for ten years of taking them. Only if I reached my twenty-sixth birthday without taking another life would I come to Gotham.”

“That is why you’ve come.”

“No, my birthday is still a few months away, but… Jon told me what happened. I realized I was too late so I am here to… I thought if I could never present myself to Father absolved of guilt, I could at least protect the city he devoted himself to since I believed it was now undefended.”

“You did not know about the others,” she chuckled.

“You told me he worked alone,” he growled.

“He did when we last spoke.” She pulled away, tilting her head. “Am I your only source for information?”

“Yes. I did not know if I could trust any other source given his reclusiveness.”

“But I only told you about Batman. What about behind the man under the cowl?”

He slumped back against the couch.

“You do not know who he is,” she said, amusement in her voice.

“Mother always told me I would learn who he was when I’d earned it. The only things I know are that I am his only family and heir. That’s why I asked you to meet me. I wanted to do this properly and cover his responsibilities in and out of the mask, but I can’t do that without knowing who he is. I’d hoped that either you would know or you could help me figure it out.”

She hummed and glanced to the side.

He followed her gaze to see a clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning.

Suddenly she hopped to her feet and dragged him up. “You said you are staying at Hotel Belle Monico?”

“Yes, room 3215.”

“Go straight back there and get changed.”

He nodded, figuring she wanted to get some rest. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

After getting her confirmation, he climbed up the ropes and did as told. It only took him fifteen minutes to get back to his room and another twenty to change out of his vigilante attire, lock all his gear away, shower, and put on his sleeping clothes. Once that was done he started to debate whether or not to get some sleep or do a bit of research first.

A knock came at his door.

He grabbed the small dagger he kept on him at all times and palmed one of the knives he’d hidden around the room as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole, then tucked both weapons into his waistband and opened the door.

Cassandra had lost her own suit in favor of a casual teal dress and gold-brown leggings. She frowned as she took him in and started shoving him further into the room before he could say anything. “Get dressed.”

“What’s going on?”

“Clothes.”

Well aware he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, he slipped into the suite's bedroom and changed into some slacks and a polo.

“Good,” she said when he came out, then turned on her heel and left.

He quickly followed after grabbing his wallet and one of the room’s keycards.

“Where are we going?” he asked once they were in the elevator, but she just smiled at him.

The silence continued as they climbed into her car and she drove them through the city. He tried to ask again when they crossed a bridge out of the main city and into a neighborhood filled with mansions and old manors, but she remained tight-lipped until they pulled up to the gate of a larger manor.

She rolled down the window and hit the call button, which was soon answered over the video screen by an older gentleman in a butler’s uniform.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Cain,” the man said in a warm, British accent. “I was told you might make an appearance, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Hello, Alfred. Should this wait?”

“No, you might as well come in now. They’re all still awake after tonight’s events,” he sighed and the gates began to creak open.

“Sorry,” she said and he waved her off before the screen went dark.

Curiosity itched at Damian, but he stayed quiet as Cassandra drove up to the front door and they climbed out.

Alfred met them at the door. He gave Cassandra a kind smile then turned it to Damian. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Cain. And who is this?”

She looped her arm around one of Damian’s. “An old friend. Alfred, this is Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Alfred Pennyworth.”

He didn’t react to the name, assuming she’d just given him an alias, but the calculating expression on Alfred’s face as he stared at Damian’s had him second-guessing the assumption.

The expression was quickly replaced by a sad smile, however, as the man stepped back to allow them into the manor. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Master Damian.”

“You as well, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Just Alfred, my boy. Please come in. The others are winding down in the family room.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Cassandra said, then led Damian into the house by his arm. They went up the main staircase in the entrance hall and into the first door on the left where they found a room inhabited by a group of children.

The oldest were a pair of teenagers sitting on the couch.

The girl was white, but tanned with long blonde hair pulled into a messy braid and dark green eyes. She was thin but muscular and he could see her arms were covered in small scars thanks to her Gotham Sirens tank top. She was cradling a sleeping infant who was wrapped in a Wonder Woman blanket and clutching a stuffed Batman.

The other teen was more androgynous, body hidden under an overly large White Arrow hoodie and Supergirl sweat pants. They were Latine with their skin a pale brown and their eyes a silvery blue. Their hair was black and chin-length. They had a video game controller on their lap and a tablet in their hands.

The next oldest was a preteen boy with a book sitting sideways in an armchair, back against one arm and legs draped over the other. He was fair with freckles speckling his face around his navy eyes. His hair was short and a dark red, almost black color. He was thin and muscular like the girl, but there was a touch of broadness to his shoulders that spoke of a bulkiness to come with puberty. A German Shepherd was squeezed onto the chair with him, half-tucked under the boy's legs with his head on the boy's stomach for pets.

The last child was a few years younger than the preteen. He both had the most conditioned and the least combative build of the children, having more of a gymnast's figure. His skin was of a similar olive tone to Damian’s, though a few shades lighter, and his curly hair was brown-black. Damian couldn’t see his eyes as he was dozing on a rug in front of the tv with a three-legged pitbull puppy, both curled around a large stuffed elephant. A video game controller was abandoned behind the boy.

The three awake children turned to Damian and Cassandra when they entered. They all greeted her warmly, but the girl and boy eyed him warily while the androgynous teen studied him with sharp curiosity.

“Who’s your friend, Cassie?” the boy asked.

Cassandra shoved Damian further into the room. “Your brother.”

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

So last month I made a post asking if anyone had written a story where the Robins' ages were reversed as is the trope, but they still got taken in by Bruce in the same order as well as giving some ideas for how that could work. No one ever got back to me on if that was already a thing so I figured I might as well write out one of the scenes that really caught my interest when brainstorming.

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! Skipped forward a couple years from the last chapter, and there’s a little bit of a hinting at some of Devon’s past. This chapter takes place during season 8, when Olivia was undercover in Oregon with Porter. The first bit is a blurb between the two chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: panic attacks, rape mention (and a little description, but not explicit), lesbophobia, homophobia, briefest allusion to consensual sex (blink and you miss it)

Words: 8k+ 

           Devon worked with Manhattan’s SVU department a handful of times since their first meeting. In that time, she had become closer to the detectives, especially Olivia and, by extension, Stabler. She and Stabler still butted heads every now and again, but they grew to respect each other’s methods, as Dr. Huang had predicted. As for Devon and Olivia, it was like having a sister that they never knew they wanted. As much as Liv loved her team, it was nice to have a woman to talk to about personal things, outside of the two women ADAs that SVU has had. And for Devon, though she’d never mention it to Liv or to herself, she gained a new best friend that didn’t so much “replace” Emma, but filled that spot for close female friend—though Devon made sure it never made it past that “friend” point, no matter how attractive Devon found the detective. She also knew that Olivia wasn’t interested in women, so Devon didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, Devon didn’t really want to get close to someone she was working with; her heart still hurt when she attempted to dissect her feelings for Emma.

Unlike Devon’s other work acquaintances, they actually kept in touch pretty well; enough so that Devon even met Stabler’s wife and family, before they got separated. Devon was rarely called to the precinct, maybe only once every 3-4 months, so the only time they really got to chat in person was either on the job, or when they randomly got to meet for a nightcap or lunch.

           It took Devon about a year to get into the rhythm of working with SVU—mostly because she wasn’t there often enough. For example, Devon always worked to protect the victims, whether they were held hostage or being trafficked around. SVU, however, was more about helping the victims, believing in their stories and helping them prove the abuser or perpetrator of their abuse. Putting the abuser behind bars. Getting enough evidence for a jury to convict them. In Devon’s line of work, the victims were being actively victimized; she didn’t need evidence, witnesses, or statements. Which is why the biggest fight she had was a year into the partnership with SVU, with ADA Casey Novak, and about testifying in open court.

           “I’m not testifying! Stop asking!” Devon had yelled, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Novak had asked once before, while they were both watching an interrogation. This time, they were standing in the middle of Precinct 16, officers and detectives alike coming to a halt and turning to watch a federal agent and an ADA duke it out.

           “I need you, though! Don’t you want to help put Ramsey behind bars?” Novak reasoned. She was keeping her voice level before, but it was rising now.

           Devon rolled her eyes. Of course, she wanted Ramsey behind bars; he was a rapist pig. But she couldn’t testify, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to go down memory lane with someone she didn’t really know. Especially not an ADA, acquaintance or not. She suddenly wished that she hadn’t helped catch Ramsey, that she had stayed in the court-free FBI, but then squashed that thought down; they had needed her, and she was glad to have stopped him before he escalated to rapist and murderer.

           “Casey,” Devon put a hand on Novak’s shoulder, noticing the unwanted attention from the officers watching and bringing her voice down. “I can’t testify. I need you to trust me on this. You’re a great ADA, you can do it without me.” It was true; Devon had read up on Novak’s conviction rate.

           Novak gave her a long look, long enough that Devon dropped her hand back to her side. She took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to tell you is that if you do not testify, then I don’t think I’ll win this case.” She let her words sink in, then added in a near-whisper, “don’t make me subpoena you.”

           Devon felt a weird twisting in her stomach; something she had never felt before. She tried to ignore it, look intimidating. “Is that a threat, counselor? Let me tell you what will happen if you don’t back off. I was offered an undercover in Iceland. Don’t make me go there until after this trial.”

           Novak’s eyes narrowed. “You’d really flee the country on a bogus mission to avoid testifying? It’s not that bad; you just sit in a box and tell the truth.” If Novak continued talking, Devon missed it. In her mind’s eye, she pictured herself in the witness box. She looked over at the defense attorney, one from Devon’s nightmares. He was distorted, his smirk too large for his face, his eyes turning black. The courtroom was a dark red color, the gallery’s faces blank, emotionless. Devon’s heart started beating faster, tears welling then flowing down her cheeks.

           “Devon?” Novak’s voice sounded leagues away. It wasn’t until Novak placed her hand on Devon’s arm that she snapped back to Precinct 16, ripping her arm away from Novak’s grip. The tears on her face were real, as was her frantically beating heart. For a moment, she thought she was having a heart attack. Her chest was heaving, she was gasping for air, but she couldn’t fill her lungs. She glanced at Novak’s worried face, vaguely noticed the detectives moving towards them. Devon turned and sprinted out of SVU’s department, pushing stunned officers out of her way. She ran past the elevator, heading for the stairs, taking them as quickly as her legs would carry. She didn’t know what was happening to her, all she knew was she needed fresh air. She made it to the bottom step before her legs gave out. She was shaking all over, openly weeping. She pulled herself across the ground, shoving herself in the corner of the stairwell, and curled into herself, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, burying her face into her knees.

           She didn’t know how long she was there, shaking, crying, clutching her chest and trying to think about anything but the courtroom, that small witness box. When she raised her head from her knees, she found Olivia sitting on the stairs by her, looking concerned. But Liv knew better than to ask; she knew how to treat victims. It took another 10 minutes for Devon to stop crying before she told Liv what was happening—not the whole story, just her and Novak’s fight and what she was feeling now. Olivia, having been through this before both with victims and personally, explained what a panic attack was and how Casey must have said something that triggered that reaction. After making sure that Devon was alright, Liv assured her that she wouldn’t have to testify, that she should go home and relax for the day. Devon and Olivia grew closer that day, and it wasn’t long until Devon told Liv the whole story.

2 years later

Apartment of Devon Motely

Friday, July 27th 6:24am

           Devon sighed as she let the hot water run over her, washing away the sweat from her morning gym workout and jog. The shower felt amazing, and she got out feeling refreshed, ready for the day. She was in the middle of drying off when her cell phone rang, the sound coming from her room. She hurried over to it, looking at the ID quickly before answering. Captain Cragen.

           “Motely,” she answered, sifting through her closet for an outfit. Better grab something loose if she was going into SVU and whatever mess they needed her for. Mobility was a priority for her.

           “It’s Cragen. Are you free to do an undercover for me?” Cragen replied.

           Devon had just finished a stint of undercover for the Feds—only a month--so she was off for the next week or two, at least until her shrink cleared her; definitely free to help out the squad.

           “Of course. How long?” she asked.

           “Hopefully only for tonight.”

           Oof, tonight? That was short notice. Well, she didn’t have any plans tonight, anyways. At least, not any important ones, unless she counted watching the baseball game and eating a pint of ice cream as important. Just “normal” things that helped bring her back to this life, not the made-up life of who she was for a month.

           “I’ll be right there,” Devon said before hanging up. She honestly didn’t mind doing some field work for NYPD; it was nice having…easier cases. Not that they were easy cases but compared to the hell that she dealt with on a near-daily basis with the FBI, it was like a walk through the park. Except for the court stuff. Devon refused to testify, but she did offer to transport, protect, and support the victims or witnesses that did testify. And, thankfully, Novak had backed off from asking her.

           It took Devon another 10 minutes to get herself ready. She was happy with her appearance, hoping that maybe the department wouldn’t change her outfit for the undercover op. She was in a scoop neck, plain black shirt and dark jeans. She thought about a light cardigan, but decided against it; it was in the 70s outside, plenty warm enough, even for her California skin.

SVU department

Friday, July 27th 7:14am

           Devon had arrived at the precinct and sought out Cragen. The only detective she encountered in the precinct was Munch, looking annoyed at being there so early. She happily waved to him before heading to Cragen’s office. Cragen closed the door behind her and he filled her in on the details. There was an LGBT+ bar that was mostly used by lesbians and bisexual women, barely any men. But there was a group of men that would show up in the wee hours of the morning, right before closing, stalk a woman that would come out of the bar, and then beat and rape her. This happened 4 times in the past two weeks, and the DA is treating it as a hate crime against lesbians. Each victim recalled one or more of their attackers saying something along the lines of, “fucking them straight.” SVU was positive that one of the men in the bar was a part of the group and would target the women from the inside before leaving and notifying his buddies. SVU was a little short staffed, so Cragen opted to call in Devon for this.

           “We’d like for you to be targeted by this group, or at the very least, find out who they are. We’ll have Stabler undercover in the bar to help keep an eye out, plus Fin and Munch on the outside, along with a temp transfer from Brooklyn, Detective Lake. You’ll be safe,” Cragen finished.

           “I don’t doubt it,” Devon replied with a reassuring smile. She trusted the detectives to have her back. Though, she was curious as to why Liv wasn’t mentioned. Did this Lake replace her?

           Cragen looked a little uncomfortable before saying, “I hope you don’t mind playing a lesbian.”

           “Not at all. But may I ask why Olivia isn’t up for it?” Devon asked, trying to dig some information out of Cragen without asking outright.

           “Uh, Detective Benson isn’t here right now.”

           What? “She’s not here? Where is she?”

           Cragen gave her a look. “I thought that you’d know better than I. The Feds came in and took her for an undercover assignment. Other than that, they’ve told me nothing.”

           That took Devon aback; she had no idea. Not that she talked to every undercover agent or their case workers. She wondered if she knew her case worker, if she could find where Olivia was if she dug deep enough. Maybe Jenkins knew where she was. Why did the FBI even need her?

           In an effort to keep the conversation light, Devon said, “Oh, so you’ve run out of female detectives to UC for you in a lesbian-dominated bar. Enter me, the only other woman you know.”

           Cragen gave her a terse smile. “I do have another temporary replacement transferring in...whenever 1PP decides to actually send her. I would, however, like to get this mess taken care of now instead of waiting for a detective I don’t know.”

           Devon let the conversation end there. She agreed with the Captain; she’d rather be doing this instead of some new detective that no one knew, or worse, trusted. As she left the office, she thought about the mission at hand. She honestly didn’t mind playing a lesbian; she was bisexual, anyways, so it wouldn’t be hard to feign interest in random bar tenets, no matter what their gender was. She thought about her wardrobe at home; did she have a more suitable outift for this? Or should she just let the department figure that out? She had until late tonight to get ready for it, but she knew the department; they liked to have everything planned out in advanced, to have their hands in everything. Plus, she still had to talk to Huang—or whoever the profiler they had on the case was—to make sure she knew what these dirtbags were looking for. She tried not to think about how terrible these men were; it was just making her more and more angry. She disliked rapists as much as the next person, but this hit close to home; hate crimes against queer women. She was getting tired of how men were treating them.

           Coming out of Cragen’s office, she saw that Fin and Stabler had arrived at work; both were at their desks, starting in on today’s crap. Then there was the new guy; at his desk talking to Fin idly. He was attractive, his tanned skin stark against his loose white shirt. He looked over at Devon and smirked. Devon greeted the others before heading towards Detective Lake. Might as well introduce myself, she thought. He was supposed to be one of the detectives watching her back tonight, anyways.

           “Detective Lake? My name’s Devon Motely,” she greeted him, holding out her hand. He took it, giving her a hearty handshake.

           “Don’t let her play you,” Fin said, jokingly. “She’s a Fed.”

           Devon rolled her eyes, looking faux-offended. “Wow, Fin. Tell him how you really feel about me.”

Fin shrugged. “Hey, he’s here as my partner. I gotta tell him how it is.” That caught Devon by surprise; Fin’s partner and not Stabler’s?

“Why did Cragen call in the big guns? Are you here for that lesbian case?” Lake asked.

“That would be correct, yes. Can you not tell I’m gay just by looking at me?” Devon retorted. Yep, SVU’s humor was definitely rubbing off on her.

Lake’s ears turned red, but Munch came to his rescue, piping up, “ah, that would explain why you can work with all these guys without getting distracted by our rugged good looks.”

“Man, no one is thinking that about you,” Fin replied, waving his arm at Munch.

Munch huffed, glaring at Fin over his glasses. “This is why we’re not partners anymore; you can’t even back me up on this.”

As much as Devon wanted to hang around and joke with the detectives, she was there to do a job. She gave them a half-hearted wave, then went to find Dr. Huang, who Cragen did confirm was the profiler on the case. She found him upstairs, pouring over files, coffee in hand.

           “Hey George. Whatcha got for me?” Devon asked playfully, still grinning from the conversation downstairs; even up here, she could hear the guys ragging on each other. She took a seat across from him and picked up one of the files. The pictures of the woman’s injuries took the wind out of her sails.

           Huang gave her a smile and a hello before answering, “I take it Cragen called you in on the lesbian hate crime?”

           “You’d be correct.”

           He took a sip of his coffee. “How does that make you feel?” Huang knew about Devon’s sexuality, not that she kept it private. But it also wasn’t something brought up in conversation often. Actually, she didn’t know if the other detectives, outside of Olivia, knew. The joke just now was the first time it came up, and she didn’t know if they had taken her seriously or not.

           “Pissed off. Why can’t men just…leave women alone?” she asked, exasperated. “I know that it’s more than that, but god, it’s infuriating.”

           Huang nodded. He knew what she meant. “Can you keep your cool for this?”

           Devon rolled her eyes. “Of course, I can. Just, don’t hold it against me if I punch one of those men in the nose.”

           Huang smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Let’s get you up to speed.”

           They both spent the better part of the morning going over what little description there was of the men, what the victims had said, done, been wearing—all the things that could be seen as a slight against a man’s fragile ego. In each case, a man would approach the woman at the bar, though it wasn’t clear if this man was in on it or not, but it was a constant in each case. The man, described as a “frat boy but in his 30s,” would hit on the women, using pick-up lines so bad, they couldn’t even be considered pick-up lines. In all four cases, the women shut him down quickly, all of them rude to the man—a little piece of information that Devon deemed important, squirreling it away into her mind. The man would then leave, though the women didn’t notice if he went to bother someone else or left the bar altogether. Then, with times ranging between 1 and 2am, the women left. The days were different, so it wasn’t a habitual thing; they couldn’t predict when it would happen. As the woman walked down the street, heading home or to a friend’s place, they were attacked from behind. They all claimed that they were pushed into an alley and then were restrained. They claimed something would pin down their limbs and torso. Only one woman was able to tell that one such item was a baseball bat; the others claimed something cold and metallic. None of the women could tell how many men attacked them, ranging from between four to as many as eight. All of them were raped twice, and the men wore condoms. No chance at IDing them with DNA.

           By the time Huang had gone over all the details from all four rape cases, Devon needed a bath. Or a couple shots of whiskey. Or both. She felt anger, downright hatred, and a strong urge for revenge, even though she didn’t know the victims personally. That was the thing about SVU; the victim’s pain became the detective’s, or in this case, the agent’s. She fought down the feelings of loathing; they wouldn’t help her here. She needed to play it calm, collected, the way she always did in an undercover op. Thanking Huang for all the information, she headed to the department’s undercover section, allowing them to pick out her outfit and makeup. Now came her least favorite part, having them paint her face.

 Lumber Jill’s Bar

Saturday, July 28th 12:38am

           Devon was at the bar, drinking a Dirty Shirley through a straw. She had been in the bar for about an hour now, opting to get there early, just in case the pattern changed; there were a few groups of people around. Some came with friends, others had met here, whether for the first time or as a plan, Devon didn’t know. Stabler had come in after Devon had relayed that a couple of other men had showed up, though none matching the description they were looking for. Stabler had decided to sit in a dimly lit booth, going mostly unnoticed, but having a vantage point to where he could see Devon, the front door to her back.

At first, Devon wasn’t sure this was going to work; the department dressed her in a tight black tank top with a light flannel jacket, and matching tight jeans, the fabric ripped above the right knee. She looked like a man had dressed her up to play the bitchy lesbian in a bad horror film. Devon fought to change clothes, but ultimately lost the argument. At least the makeup was more subtle. It wasn’t until Devon sat down and got a couple of, frankly unsubtle looks and even some flirting that she realized they may not have entirely screwed this up.

           Devon had started her night by drinking a normal Shirley Temple—Sprite and cherry syrup—knowing that she shouldn’t drink during an operation. That is, until a beautiful brunette had bought her one with vodka in it.

           The bartender placed the drink in front of Devon, and before she could object, the bartender said, “Dirty Shirley, compliments of Lily.” She smirked and pointed out the woman sitting across the bar from Devon. The woman, Lily, smiled coyly before taking a sip of her own drink, causing Devon to forget how to breathe temporarily. Undercover or not, Lily was the most beautiful woman Devon had ever seen. And she had bought her a drink? Devon felt like a damn high schooler, sitting there slack jawed, staring at the woman. Lily snickered, snapping Devon back to reality. She awkwardly lifted the drink in a thank you before slamming it in one quick motion. She then stood up and practically ran to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, ignoring the makeup the department plastered her with—she learned then that it was waterproof.

“Everything okay?” Stabler’s voice whispered in her ear, causing her to jump. She had the earpiece in for so long, she had forgotten it was there.

“Just a quick bathroom break,” Devon said into her mic. She wasn’t used to being mic’d up; the FBI had listening devices in every kind of accessory anyone would need. Devon’s favorite was a pair of square glasses, or a flashy gold bracelet. Tonight, though, she had the NYPD’s normal wire-up-the-shirt mic, taped to the inside of her bra. She looked into the mirror, tried to work up the courage to turn down Lily. Even if she didn’t entirely want to. It had been almost a year since the last time Devon had a partner to warm her bed; actually, Devon warming someone else’s bed was more accurate. She kept her work life and her social life—sex life—separate. She even used a fake name, a shortened version of her middle name, just so that they couldn’t find her after their one-night stand, no matter who it was. It wasn’t like she hated the thought of relationships, but she was afraid that anyone she would date may be put into harm’s way. She was an FBI agent; she had enemies. She ignored the side of her that tried to remind her that she was also afraid of opening up to people, of getting close to anyone. The last time she even entertained the idea of dating someone, they were shot in the head.

Devon mentally shook herself; she couldn’t be thinking of relationships, dating, or feelings, especially when she had decided that she was going to turn down Lily. She took a deep breath then headed back to her seat at the bar. Lily was no longer there, though. After a few minutes of searching the bar area, Devon found her sitting at a booth with three other women, laughing at whatever joke was said. God, her smile lights up her face perfectly, Devon thought before shoving the thought aside. She turned away, remembering why she was there, and took her seat at the bar again, flagging the bartender.

           She did stick with drinking alcohol, though, something Devon had never done before; she never drank while working. She vaguely noticed Stabler giving her a look when she had ordered—alcoholic drinks came in different glasses than non-alcoholic. If he had any complaints about her drinking, however, he didn’t mention it. Besides, who knows? Maybe the men wouldn’t show up tonight; it was nearing 1:30am, and no sign of the suspect. Maybe Devon could spend the night with someone; she was feeling lonely, if not sexually frustrated. Damn, she shouldn’t have gone to the bathroom, she shouldn’t have opened this door in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Stabler’s voice came through her earpiece again.

           “Group of six guys just came in, looking like trouble,” he went quiet while he watched them—Devon avoided turning to look, relying on Stabler’s assessment—before he continued, “looks like the leader is coming to you.” Devon mentally braced herself as a man slammed an arm down on the bar next to her, standing way too close for comfort. She could smell the Axe Body Spray radiating off him.

           “Hey honey, you look sad. Want me to cheer you up?” he asked in a way that made it sound like it wasn’t a question.

           “Was that supposed to be a pick-up line?” Devon replied. Devon remembered that the women reported being rude to the man at the bar, and “rude” was Devon’s middle name.

           The man scowled, “I don’t need a line to pick up hot chicks at a bar. Women flock to me.” Devon took this time to look at the man, carefully crafted disgust on her face—not like it was too hard to fake--and glanced him up and down. He was in his early to mid-30s with shaggy blonde hair. He was wearing a red polo shirt and cargo shorts. He almost looked like if he stepped out of a frat house, but never grew out of the mindset. All he was missing was the backwards ball cap. Everything about him screamed creep-who-was-full-of-himself-and-didn’t-hear-no…and he matched the victim’s descriptions perfectly. The fact that he came in with five other men was as much of a green light as Devon needed. She could at least get him for harassment if he somehow wasn’t their perp.

           “Uh huh. Well, why don’t you try and flock elsewhere? No ‘hot chicks’”—she did air-quotes around the words—“are going to be interested in you here. You’re not our type,” Devon said, rolling her eyes as if she were stating the obvious.

           The man’s face was turning red now. “Oh yeah? Well, no one’s calling you a hot chick,” he spat.

           “Then why are you even talking to me?” She glared at him, then, putting all the venom she could muster into her voice, dismissed him, “get lost.” The man gave her one last death glare before turning and heading back to his buddies.

           “If that’s not at least one of the guys we’re looking for, I’ll eat my jacket,” Devon whispered into her mic.

           “I’d take that bet, except I’m almost 100% positive that he is our perp. We won’t know until you leave, though,” Stabler replied. “Let me go first, wait five, then come out and take a left. Walk naturally.” As if he needed to tell Devon how to do her job.

           “You alright, honey?” the bartender asked.

           Devon put on a smile. “Yeah, that guy was a dick, though. Does he come in often?”

           The bartender glared at the door, as if the man might come back, before answering, “I’ve seen him only a couple of times, now. Him and his buddies. They seem to try and start shit with someone at the bar, but leave before I can officially kick them out. I don’t know how they always seem to come in when my back is turned.” Devon nodded. If that were true, then him and his group could very well be the rapists they were looking for.

           Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stabler get up, pay for his beer, and leave. Thankfully, it was pretty busy at this point; the bartenders didn’t notice a man sitting by himself in a mostly lesbian bar, nor the fact that he left so abruptly, even though they should’ve been on high alert after the group had left earlier. Devon sipped at her drink before hailing the bartender and paying. When she stood, she was a little shocked to feel how light her head was. She didn’t think she drank that much, but oh well. She wasn’t too far gone, just a happy buzz. She made her way out, glancing around the bar once more. She saw Lily, still laughing with her group. Stamping her lust down, Devon headed out the door.

           It was a nice night, even this late…well, early. It was a balmy 60 degrees, perfect temperature to Devon. She pulled the flannel around her in what she hoped looked like a nervous manner before taking off in a brisk walk down the street she and the SVU detectives agreed upon earlier that day. It didn’t take long until she heard footsteps behind her. She kept her pace as normal as she could; being an undercover agent meant she had the skills to act natural, but being a woman meant she had the instincts to speed up, to protect herself. It was hard fighting those instincts as she heard the footsteps moving faster, jogging after her. Fuck training, she thought as she whipped around to confront her stalker. She was stunned when she saw that it wasn’t the creep from the bar, but Lily trying to catch up with her.

           “Wait,” she said a little breathlessly. Devon fought the blush that she knew crept across her face. “I didn’t get your name.”

           “Oh, uh, it’s Olivia,” Devon replied, silently cursing herself; it was the first name she thought of. How’d she forget her own fake cover name?

           Lily smiled at her, having caught her breath. “What a beautiful name.”

           God, how is her voice this pretty, too? Devon thought. She pushed away the accompanying thoughts about what that voice may sound like in a bedroom. “N-nice to meet you,” Devon stammered out, face flushing. Keep it in your pants, Motely, she thought to herself, embarrassed that just talking to this woman turned her into a blushing mess. Devon had heard of the term “disaster bisexual” before, but never attributed it to herself…until now.

           Lily laughed and Devon thought her face would explode with how hot it was getting. “Same to you…would you like to come back to my hotel room?” Lily asked. Wow, that was blunt.

           Devon’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she fought against herself. God yes, was her first thought. She damn near jumped out of her skin when she heard Stabler clear his throat awkwardly in her ear. Right, she was still mic’d up, and while it was only Stabler who was talking to her, she knew that all the other detectives could hear the conversation. Great.

           “Are you alright, love?” Lily asked, concerned. She put a hand on Devon’s shoulder to try and stabilize her. Devon felt electricity through the touch as she struggled controlled herself.

           “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. I, uh, I’d love to go with you. But, uh, could we maybe raincheck until tomorrow night?” Devon asked, her voice rising an octave. Lily had only a moment where her face fell, when Devon heard more footsteps.

           Suddenly the group of six men from the bar appeared out of nowhere around the two women, Red Polo Shirt holding a bat and pointing at Devon. Well, seems like they were their perps, and that they were breaking pattern tonight; attacking two women and not blitzing them from behind. Instantly, Devon’s mind snapped back to calm, calculating, collected; her normal field agent’s instincts returning. She felt like herself again, adrenaline pumping through her veins—she felt alive.

           “You ain’t going anywhere tonight,” Red Polo Shirt announced. Devon looked around, trying to gauge the situation. They were on a sidewalk, no lights except for a couple dull streetlamps. There was a building at their backs, six men in a half circle around them. Besides Red Polo Shirt and his bat, Devon saw that only three of the other five men were armed: one also holding a baseball bat and two with what looked like metal bars. All things that could be used to hold down someone while the unarmed did whatever they wanted to the victim.

           “Get out of here, you bastard,” Devon said as clearly as she could. ‘Bastard’ was the code word that her and the SVU detectives had agreed upon before.

           “Move in,” she heard Stabler say to the rest of the team. Hopefully, they were close. But until then, it was stalling time.

           Red Polo Shirt drew Devon’s attention back to the scene when he took a couple steps closer. The other men followed suit, effectively closing the semi-circle around her and Lily. They were maybe twenty feet from the women now; close enough that the space between the men were almost non-existent. Lily got closer to Devon, and Devon shifted so that Lily was partially behind her. “You just don’t know how to not be a bitch, do you?” the man called out loudly, making his friends laugh.

           “And you don’t know how to take rejection,” Devon replied. Her whole body was tense, mind frantically trying to find a way out of here, or a way to stall further.

           Lily moved closer and whispered in Devon’s ear, “maybe we shouldn’t upset them.” Her voice was laced with fear, and Devon felt the sudden need to protect Lily, to never let fear taint that pretty voice again. No matter what happened, Devon would make sure that Lily made it out of this unharmed.

           Red Polo Shirt frowned. “See, this is what you bitches deserve. You need a good man in your life to teach you your place.” Well, if there was any doubt in Devon’s mind about this group of guys being her target, it was gone now. She backed up, and Lily followed suit until they were up against the wall. Devon’s mind flew into overdrive, trying to figure out a way out of this; if Stabler and the detectives weren’t there soon, then there was going to be a fight. Devon was confident in her fighting abilities, but even she knew that six against one was a losing battle. She was unarmed, plus the fact that she now had a civilian to protect. The two unarmed men were on either side of her and Lily, the two closest to the wall. Devon could feasibly rush one of them and shoulder her way past; that would just lead to a foot chase, with her hopefully being fast enough to outrun them until help arrived. But would Lily be able to make it out of there, too? In the heels Devon noticed she was wearing, she highly doubted she could run at all…though she had jogged to catch up with Devon in the first place. Maybe she was one of those women who learned to run in heels, in case something like this happened.

           Thankfully before Devon had a chance to find out, a cop car appeared on either side of the group, sirens and lights only going off once the group was blocked off, so as not to startle them into running. Stabler and Munch launched out of one cruiser, guns drawn, while Fin and Lake hopped out of their car.

           “Freeze, NYPD!” Stabler yelled. The two unarmed men instantly had their hands up. The two with metal bars let them fall from their hands, clattering to the ground, while they rose their hands. The other man with a bat attempted to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Lake. Red Polo Shirt cursed loudly before throwing his bat on the ground with a loud clang and raising his hands.

           “We didn’t do nothing wrong,” he called out to the detectives.

           “Yeah yeah,” Stabler replied, keeping his gun trained on him as he inched closer, pulling his cuffs from his pocket. Fin and Munch started cuffing the other men who were still standing. More cop cars arrived on the scene, officers rushing to help the detectives apprehend the suspects.

Devon walked over to Stabler, smiling, “thanks. I owe you one.”

“At least you don’t have to eat your jacket,” he replied, making Devon laugh, nerves still buzzing. Stabler gave her a grin before looking over her shoulder, subtly nodding to something behind her.

Devon suddenly remembered Lily, who hadn’t moved from her spot against the wall, still looking alarmed. Her eyes roamed over the scene before landing on Devon’s. She turned back to Stabler, taking the earpiece out and pulling the wire from under her clothes. She dumped them unceremoniously into Stabler’s hands before heading back to Lily. He gave her a subtle thumbs up before leading Red Polo Shirt to his squad car.

“Hey, you alright?” Devon asked once she was close enough.

“I—yeah. What just happened?”

Devon didn’t want to dive into the heinous details of the investigation, nor did she want to explain how she had lied about her name earlier. But she also didn’t want to lie now, either. “Long story short, I was working undercover to bust some homophobic, misogynistic assholes. And I think I just did.”

Lily looked her up and down. “So, is that why you turned me down earlier, Olivia?” Her eyes widened as if something just became clear. “Is that even your real name? Are you even attracted to women?”

Devon hated the accusatory tone in Lily’s voice, though she understood it. She also hated that she was going to lie to her once more. “My real name is Ryn,” she swallowed the nasty taste it left in her mouth--it was short for Kathryn, her real middle name—then continuing, “and yes, I am attracted to women.” Lily still looked skeptical, so Devon jokingly added, “I mean, who wouldn’t be after seeing someone as stunning as you?”

That made Lily smile. “Really? A pick-up line? Haven’t I already invited you back to my place?”

Devon’s cheeks warmed. “Ah, yes, you did. I’d also like to take back my earlier response in place of a new one.” Lily nodded, a smile dancing across her lips. “I would be delighted to go back to your place.” Especially now, with all the adrenaline still coursing through Devon’s veins.

 SVU Department

Monday, July 30th. 8:00am

Devon practically bounced into the 16th Precinct feeling lighter than she had in months. She still felt a little bad about lying to Lily, leaving early enough in the morning that Devon never even had to speak to her, Lily’s sleeping form breathing deeply in the hotel bed, clothes thrown around the room. But it was normal to Devon; form no attachments. She didn’t have the time to even think about seriously dating; work was her number one priority and hooking up when she was stressed seemed to be the easiest answer. Not only was she on-call at all hours of the day, every day, she also went on undercover cases for months at a time. How could she devote herself to someone when she couldn’t even devote time to herself? Work came first. Always.

Devon shook herself, forcing herself to remember why she was there in the first place. Stabler had texted her, letting her know that they were about to start the interrogations of the men from the bar. He had asked if she wanted him to wait for her and was elated when she said yes. I’m alright with letting these guys sweat for a little, he had written back. Devon smiled and waved at the detectives as they drank their coffee, trying to wake up. She never did understand how officers were not morning people.

“Hey Dev,” Stabler greeted as she made her way into the observation room. Devon grinned in response and looked through the glass. Red Polo Shirt was alone in the room, still in the same clothes from Saturday night. Sometimes, Stabler could be cruel, leaving a perp to stew all weekend in the cage. Not that Devon was feeling particularly bad for this piece of scum.

“He say anything interesting?” Devon asked. Even if Stabler left him and his buddies to sit all weekend, that didn’t mean that they were ignored. There were officers that worked weekends and would pay attention to anything the perps in the cage would say.

“Just a lot of cursing and complaining.” So, no confession yet? That shouldn’t be too hard to pry out of him.

“Hmph. Hopefully he’s as stupid as he looks,” she said. Just then, Fin and Lake entered the observation room, along with Captain Cragen.

He gave Devon a nod in greeting before instructing, “Fin. Stabler. You’re up.” The two detectives nodded, making their way into the interrogation room. Cragen, Lake, and Devon watched as Fin took the lead as bad cop, while Stabler took the sympathetic cop. Devon had done only a handful of interrogations in her career, which is why she enjoyed watching these guys do it. They were good; if she didn’t know Stabler any better, she’d believe his act of being a woman-hating, misogynistic bastard. Shockingly, though, Red Polo Shirt—Richard Morrisen—wasn’t confessing easily. Devon had been positive that it was going to be a slam dunk, yet Richard seemed to only be interested in screaming profanities at the detectives.

After about an hour, Cragen pulled the detectives out. They were getting nowhere, and Devon could tell that the whole squad was getting frustrated.

“Guy just won’t stop running his mouth,” Fin said as the interrogation door closed behind him. “At least he ain’t asking for a lawyer yet.”

“What now?” Devon asked. She’d never seen the detectives not get a confession before. Though, she’d only sit in on a couple interrogations; she was usually busy with another case before they finished processing whatever case she had helped them with.

“Now, we call Novak, see if we can set up a line-up,” Cragen replied.

While the detectives were setting that up—most of the time was spent getting lookalikes for six different line-ups—Devon took the time to talk with Detective Lake. Temporary assignment or not, it was always good to meet, actually meet, the people that Devon was going to be working with, even if this was only a one-time thing; something they wouldn’t know for a while.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day,” Devon said, leaning against the man’s desk. Devon had said only one sentence to the detective, but the look on his face said enough in response.

“Nah, just caught me off guard. It’d take more than that to make me uncomfortable,” Lake replied, chuckling.

“Good, I’m glad,” Devon smiled. “Though, the thought of Munch as someone with ‘rugged good looks’ is slightly disturbing.” That made Lake laugh, his shoulders relaxing. Devon wasn’t great at making friends, but she was glad to see that she could at least make people laugh.

When he stopped laughing, she saw his body language change again; nothing big, but a clench of his teeth, his back stiffening slightly, and she knew he was nervous about asking this next question. “I mean, Munch isn’t really…your type, is he?”

Devon never understood why people were so interested in sexuality. She knew that for some people, it was an important label, a type of identity that people could spend years figuring out. But why people felt the need to ask others, especially when faced with the fact that they may not be straight, she just didn’t get. But Lake seemed to be genuinely curious; besides, Devon was a hard person to offend.

“I mean, he’s old enough to be my father. So, I’d say no, he’s not my type. I tend to look for people around my own age,” Devon said, smirking. Her use of the word “people” didn’t go unnoticed.

“Well, do you think that…I would be more your type?” He kept his cool when asking, the only signal of his nerves showing as his ears reddened.

Oh, so that’s it, Devon thought. She looked at Lake, really looked at him. He was slightly taller than her, lean but built, and very attractive. But he was also an SVU detective, someone that she may have to work with on a constant basis, which went against her one-night stand mentality.

“If you weren’t in the same line of work as I am, then yes, probably. But as it stands, I have a strict no-dating-your-coworkers rule,” Devon said, keeping her voice as light and neutral as possible. No one liked rejection.

Even so, his face fell, just slightly. “No, I get it. That makes sense.”

Before the awkwardness could continue, Novak came out of the observation room, signaling for Devon to come over. She gave Lake a small smile and wave as she went to talk to the counselor. Novak said nothing as she closed the door behind the two of them, sealing them from the rest of the squad.

“Devon, I know you’re going to hate me, but just understand that I would not ask this of you unless it was a necessity,” Novak blurted out. “I need you to testify in this case.”

“Casey--,” Devon started, but Novak cut her off.

“Listen to me. Out of the four victims, only two of them could ID any of the assailants, and even then, they only ID’d the two unarmed men as the rapists. Unless the detectives can get a full confession, then I have nothing except you tying these pigs to the assaults.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. After Novak asked two years ago, causing Devon’s panic attack, Devon had been having recurring nightmares at least once a month. Always in a witness box. Always in a courtroom. Devon fought through the fog in her mind, trying to find any way out of this. Suddenly, a thought struck her.

“What if I interrogate Morrisen? He hates me, hates women; I’m sure I can get him to tell me every horrible thing he wanted to do to me,” Devon reasoned. Her brain had latched onto the idea, refusing to let it go. It was a life preserver in the ocean of darkness that was the courts.

Novak sighed heavily. “You get one chance. If you don’t get a confession, though, I’ll have to prep you for testifying.” Devon would not let that happen.

“Come in with me; SVU doesn’t  have another woman to spare,” Devon said instead of answering. Without another word, Devon led Novak to the interrogation room from earlier, Morrisen in the same seat, slumped over onto the table, clearly tired.

“Oh, so now they send the skirts in after me,” Morrisen croaked out. Then his eyes locked on Devon’s. “Wait, you’re that bitch from the bar!”

“That’s Special Agent Bitch to you,” Devon responded.

“Woah, woah, wait a minute. You mean you’re a cop? Isn’t that, uh…entrapment or something?”

Devon let out a low whistle. “Wow, that was a three-syllable word. I didn’t think your vocabulary was that enriched.”

Morrisen gave Devon a confused look. “No, it’s not entrapment. No one made you harass women at a bar,” Novak said.

Morrisen’s eyes moved over to her. “I didn’t harass nobody. Those bitches got exactly what they wanted, what they deserved,” he sneered.

Wow, this is easier than I thought it’d be, Devon thought. “Are you sure it’s what we wanted? Because I distinctly remember telling you to ‘get lost,’” she said. Let’s see if we can lead him to it.

Morrisen gave Devon the greasiest, creepiest smile that she had ever seen before replying, “your mouth said no, but your eyes were all over me.”

God, I need a nice, long shower after this, Devon thought, suppressing a shudder. “Trust me, Richard. No one wants whatever it is you think you can give them.”

Morrisen’s smile turned into a scowl as he jumped up from his seat, sending the chair toppling over behind him. Novak gave a startled jump, but Devon held her ground; she didn’t even flinch.

“You know what I gave those stuck-up sluts? I gave them just what they wanted! They needed some rough and tough lovin’ from yours truly. Once you go Dick,”—he pointed at himself—“you never go chick.”

Devon was feeling fully disgusted at this point. She looked at Novak as if to ask is that a good enough confession? Novak shook her head, and Devon looked back to this scum.

“Wow, did you think of that line all by yourself? Tell me; why did someone as…’rough and tough’ as you need a posse of five other men to help you assault those women? I mean, if that’s what they all wanted, why use a baseball bat to hold them down?”

Morrisen smirked, picked up his chair and sat down triumphantly in it. “Sometimes, I like to spread the love around, ya know what I’m saying? Those other guys may be my bros, but they don’t got game like I do. It’s kinda like doing some community service.”

Devon sat down across from him. “Oooh, so you’re the good guy in all of this, helping your bros out. How exactly do you help them?” she asked, leaning on her elbows on the table.

It took about another 30 minutes to get the whole story out of Morrisen. Once he started talking, he didn’t stop. Novak, to her credit, had taken out a small recorder, informing Morrisen that his conversation would be recorded. He didn’t seem to care; actually, he seemed to like the attention of two beautiful women listening to his assaults. By the time he had finished, and Devon and Novak left the room, they both felt sick to their stomachs.

“I think I need to bathe in hand sanitizer,” Novak mumbled.

“Can I join you?” Devon replied. She gave the counselor a small smile before asking, “so, am I off the hook?”

Novak sighed. “For now, yes. I should be able to put Morrisen and his gang behind bars for quite a while. Besides, during his confession, he also indirectly admitted to the hate crime. I doubt this will go to trial; they’ll probably all plead out.”

Devon felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank you.”

Novak gave her a long look. Devon raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for Novak to say whatever was on her chest. “Look, Devon. I…understand you have a phobia of testifying. But I want to help you through it,” Devon opened her mouth to object, but Novak continued on. “I’m not going to force you to testify, or to do anything you don’t want to. But I’d like for you to come by the courthouse one day. I think it may help you to sit in the gallery during a trial…. Or, at least come with me into a courtroom after it’s closed. No one will be there; just us.”

Devon thought about it. She was touched that Novak wanted to help her with her fear, even if it was for her own personal gain; if she could get Devon over her fear, then she’d be able to testify in later cases. But the thought of sitting in on a trial was enough to make her heartbeat faster.

“Can—can we start with the latter?” Devon asked, her voice faint. She didn’t trust herself enough to speak louder.

Novak smiled. “Of course. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Devon returned her smile despite herself.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Flatbush & Atlantic: part v

Here we have part v! Took me a little longer than usual, but I’m really happy with how it turned out - it’s All Star Weekend with our favorite couple, folks! I haven’t been getting as much engagement as usual with the posts, so please feel free to reblog it and pop into my inbox!

part i part ii part iii part iv

part v

January 28

Cass sat on a metal bench at JFK, legs propped up on her carry-on, eyes flitting between the departures screen and her phone. Mat walked through the sliding doors to her left, catching her eye with a quick wave and smile. If he wanted to travel incognito in Long Island, though, the suit bag and “these-are-more-expensive-than-they-look” sunglasses weren’t helping his cause. “You’ve got the tickets?” She asked. After much convincing, Cass finally agreed to let Mat buy the tickets; he said it would be easier to make sure they were seated together, and had told her to think of it as a belated Christmas present if she’d like. 

Mat nodded, gesturing towards the check-in counters. “Shall we?”

Cat grabbed his hand in her own as they walked to the counter. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that they’d be travelling anything but economy — she never had, after all — so she was more than a little surprised when he steered her and their bags towards American’s first-class check-in. He looked down at her. “What? You think I’d let you go to the All-Star Game in anything but the best? Nah, we’re travelling in style, babe.” Cass flushed, handing over her bags to be weighed and taking the boarding pass from the flight attendant with a harried thanks. 

“Qu-est-ce que c’est, chère?” Mat asked, brushing a kiss over the top of her head as they headed up the escalator. French had been her foreign language in high school and college; it had gotten rusty, but Mat and Tito had been more than happy to practice with her, though Beau’s Québécois accent sometimes proved a little difficult to understand. 

“I’m just really excited for this weekend. I know how much it means to you to be on the team and competing in the skills competition again, and I’m lucky to be able to see you do what you love.” 

After a less-than-ideal forty minutes in the security line, Cass handed her license and Mat’s passport over to the TSA agent, who gave them a cursory once-over before marking their boarding passes and letting them through the scanner. 

They boarded the Delta flight some 40 minutes later, after a much-needed pit-stop at the Starbucks. The flight attendants took their coats and showed them to their seats, and before Cass knew it she was seated in a very large, very comfortable chair that had more legroom than she thought humanly possible, a glass of champagne perched on her tray table. “Is this how you live? All the time?” She whispered to Mat, stunned. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “The team charters a plane for games and I usually don’t do first class to go back home, but this is a special occasion. It deserves it, you deserve it.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, pulling out his Airpods. “We’ve got just enough time to get through Pirates of the Carribean before we land. What do you say?” 

Their plane landed a few hours later, the two catching an Uber to the hotel about twenty minutes away. Apparently there had been “a car” coming for them, but Cass balked at the idea, insisting that the Toyota Corolla coming to pick them up was more than enough for her. 

“Hi, checking in for Barzal,” Mat said, smiling at the receptionist. 

“One moment,” she replied, tapping on the computer and turning around to grab two key cards. “You two will be in room 307, third floor. Elevators are that way. Enjoy your stay!” Mat took the cards, handing one to Cass as they turned towards the row of elevators. As excited as she was, Cass was also just the tiniest bit apprehensive about sharing a room with Mat for a whole weekend. She had spent the night once or twice since the Christmas party, and had officially been granted “a drawer” in his dresser, but it was still the longest (relatively) uninterrupted time she’d spend with him. 

There were a few hours before the festivities kicked off with some sort of red carpet-type thing, so Cass pulled out her laptop and got to work while Mat went off to exercise in the hotel gym. None of her professors this semester recorded lectures, so she was relying on good friends and a strong Wifi connection to get the notes from the one class she was missing. Cass wasn’t one to skip out on responsibilities and she did feel bad about not being there, but she had earned a break. 

Mat came back a little while later, and Cass took that as her cue to start getting ready. After he got out of the shower, she took over the bathroom, spreading her makeup, brushes, and precisely-3.4-ounce bottle of hairspray over the counter. This was the first big event she was going to as a WAG, and nerves were flying. Cass was already well aware that she didn’t fit into the typical mold, and hated the fact that she felt like she had to justify herself everywhere she went. And it didn’t help that Mat wasn’t just one of the best young players in the NHL in recent memory, but also a total smokeshow of a man who had hundreds of women falling at his feet. 

But galas, parties, extravagant events were nothing new to her. She had been the president of her sorority at UConn, organizing and attending more than her fair share of her own formals and semiformals or accompanying a friend or boyfriend to theirs. And law school called for dressing up more than occasionally. She was no stranger to impressing people. The dress was light blue to coordinate with Mat’s suit, heavily beaded, and absolutely gorgeous. This was the one part of the trip that she had absolutely refused to let Mat pay for, even though he offered. The league covered the room and he had gotten the flights, and her ego needed to pick up at least a marginal part of the expenses. 

She twisted her hair up into a bun, bobby pins stuck in her mouth as she pulled out a few strands of hair. Setting spray? Check. Lipstick? A deep rose shade that she’d had since her first year of law school, so, check. “You almost ready to go, chou?” She asked, leaning down to her suitcase and grabbing the strappy heels she’d picked out for the night.

“Uh, yeah,” Mat said, buttoning his suit jacket. He usually had pretty good taste even before they started dating, but the navy blue velvet suit he was wearing was really something else. “Wow, you look amazing, Cass.”

She smiled, stepping towards him. “The lipstick’s kiss-proof, you know.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You wanna try that out?”

---

It was a fifteen minute drive to the venue, the car the league had sent packed with players and their partners, or whoever else had managed to wrangle a spot. She thinks there were some cousins involved? Mat got out before her, holding the door open while he leaned down. “The reporters are usually fine, they get that most of you guys aren’t used to this,” he murmured, “but you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, I’ll say something if I see it getting out of line.” 

She squeezed his hand in appreciation, taking a breath to steady her nerves before following him onto the red carpet. After posing for a few photos, they moved onto the reporters, Mat getting steered towards someone who Cass was pretty sure was from SportsCenter, but she couldn’t be positive in the crowd of hundreds. Cass briefly introduced herself, stepping slightly to the side as the conversation’s topics veered towards strategy and expectations, how best to manage playing with only three players and how he was feeling about his chances for fastest skater. 

“And you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Cassidy along, how did you two meet?” Cass heard her name mentioned, quickly snapping out of the daydream she had been lost in. Fluff pieces were nothing new and she knew it would come up, everyone loved getting to know the players outside of a strictly hockey context. 

“Yeah, so I’m in law school, and I got an internship with the counsel’s office for the Islanders,” Cas started, “and I helped Mat with some visa stuff. He kept trying to drop hints that he was into me, but—”

“They weren’t hints. I was being as obvious as possible,” Mat deadpanned. Cass giggled. 

“Well, yeah, in retrospect I was just being incredibly oblivious, but came to one day, and the rest is history.” Mat leaned down, brushing a kiss over her cheek, and Cass could see camera flashes go off in her peripherals. She’d have to track that picture down later.

The interviewer nodded, asking a few follow-ups on her exposure to hockey growing up, her dress, and one more. “So, you hardly live the typical life of a hockey girlfriend. What do you think about that?”

Cass was confused. “Pardon?”

“Law school, being a lawyer. That’s not something that you typically see WAGs pursue, especially considering the salaries NHLers make. It’s not like they have to do much.” Cass was floored. How could someone be so disrespectful, not only to her, but to every other woman in her position? She was struggling to come up with a response. As it would happen, she didn’t need to. 

“Excuse me?” Mat’s response was dripping venom. “Why would you ask something like that?”

The interviewer tried to backtrack, but ended up digging himself into an ever deeper hole. “Well, I just meant that you don’t see it often, which is true—”

“Maybe you don’t, but that shouldn’t matter,” Mat said. “Being a stay-at-home mom or running charity events is awesome if that’s something that they want to do, but it’s not for everyone. And don’t you dare ever suggest that Cass hasn’t worked hard as hell to get to where she is. She’s graduating in five months from an Ivy League law school, and she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Don’t ever talk about her that way. Don’t ever talk about any woman that way.” He turned away, his hand on Cass’ upper back. “Don’t ever let anyone undersell you. You’ve worked too damn hard and come too damn far.”

 Jan. 29 (fri)

 Cass smoothed out her dress, taking a last-minute look in the mirror to make sure nothing was stuck in her teeth. “How do I look?” She asked, turning to Mat. 

“You look great, babe. Stop stressing.” She had picked a floral dress and denim jacket for breakfast with Mat’s family, but couldn’t stop wringing her hands in worry. Mat crossed the room in three steps, holding her hands still and looking at her more intensely than she had ever seen. “Remember when I was losing my shit meeting your parents?” Cass gave a tearful nod. “And it all turned out okay and now I text your brother probably more than you do?” 

She laughed. “Noah worships you, and my dad loves you. Thinks you’re ‘good for me,’ whatever he means by that.”

“I think,” Mat said, tapping her temple with one finger, “that sometimes you get a little stuck up here. You’re so smart, and it’s incredible, but you overthink things sometimes, pretty girl.”

She ducked her head. “That’s probably true.” 

“But what I meant to say is that it turned out I had nothing to worry about. And neither do you, my parents will love you and Liana’ll just be excited to have another girl around to complain about me to. It’s going to go great,” he added with finality. 

“You promise?” Cass asked.

Mat kissed her, soft and sweet and slow, the kind of kiss that wasn’t born of passion and lust but of just genuine deep trust and affection. The kind of kiss that brings your feet back to the ground when your head’s stuck off in the clouds. “I promise.”

Cass flashed a small smile, squeezing Mat’s hand in hers and heading towards the door. “Then I guess we’d better get going.” She had been up late the night before, searching on Yelp for the perfect restaurant, despite Mat’s continual claims that they’d “love wherever, they just want food.” Though, she’s not sure what she expected when asking a 20-something man what he wanted to eat. There was a cute place a ten minute drive away, with four-point-seven stars and reviews that said their quiches were the “best thing on this godforsaken planet,” according to IridescentGymRat44. Cass loved quiches. 

It was a quick Uber over, Mat’s mom having texted him that they had already arrived and snagged a table in the back for privacy. It may have been a family event, but it was still All-Star Weekend and Mat was still, well, Mat. It wasn’t likely he could fly under the radar for too long. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand reassuringly as they turned the corner, and his face split into a wide grin at the sight of his family. Hugging each of them quickly, he stepped back to introduce Cass, one hand lightly resting on the small of her back. “This is Cass, my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Liana said pointedly, causing Cass to poorly cover up a snort of amusement, which in turn just caused everyone to laugh even more at their efforts trying not to laugh so hard. 

As it would turn out, Mat was right. She really had nothing to worry about; his parents embraced her (literally and metaphorically) as soon as she set down and his sister immediately whipped out her phone to show his worst baby pictures. “Hey,” she said, as Mat glared at her, “you deserve to know what you’re getting yourself into.” They were interested in her work and school, and Mat gladly took the liberty of explaining how they met, earning a slap on the back of his head from his mom when he got to the part with the visa slipup. They said their goodbyes sometime around eleven; Cass would have liked to stay longer, but everyone needed to get back to their hotels and ready for the skills competitions in the afternoon. 

“Excited to defend the title?” Cass said, bumping her shoulder against Mat as they walked down the hallway to their room. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Mat said, shrugging slightly. “Obviously it would be great to win, but there’s still McDavid and Eichel and a ton of other guys that have just as good of a chance to run away with this thing.” After his win last year, it was no shock that Mat had been picked for the fastest skater competition again, but the hordes of fans and reporters who were expecting him to go back-to-back weren’t helping his nerves. They reached the door, Mat shoving his hand into his pocket to dig out the key card. 

“Look at me,” Cass said softly, once they had gotten their shoes off and were propped up next to each other in bed. Mat’s head turned, his hand still absentmindedly tangled in her curls. “You’re going to do great. Win or lose. I believe it, your family believes it, the other guys on the team believe it. Now all we need is for you to believe it yourself.”

---

Cass was walking through the tunnels of the BB&T Center, phone pressed to her cheek as she tried to listen to her dad on the other end of the line. A few players and their families were milling about, some getting ready to compete in their skills competitions, others catching up with old friends. “Oh, and you booked the tickets to Hermosillo, yeah?” It was a family tradition for them to spend a few weeks every summer back in Mexico with her grandparents; they had split their time between San Antonio and their hometown ever since retirement. Cass always tried to make it, but the past summer she wasn’t able to wrangle the two weeks off from her job that she’d need for the trip, and it had crushed her. They weren’t getting any younger, and her abuelo had suffered a nasty stroke the year prior that made her all the more anxious to visit. 

“Yep, layover in Mexico City like usual, I’ll send you the ticket when the trip gets closer,” Patrick responded.

“And you’ve got everyone’s passport info?”

She could imagine her dad rolling his eyes. “Yes, Cassidy. Everything’s booked, everything’s fine. Have fun in Florida, tell Mat good luck from us.”

“Okay, I will. Love you, dad.” Cass said, running a hand through her hair. 

A voice that she didn’t quite recognize called her name, and as she turned around she was more than a little surprised to see Auston Matthews waving at her. “It is Cassidy, right?”

She nodded her head. “Cassidy, Cass, I’ll answer to both.”

The confusion on her face must have still been evident, because he followed up. “I follow Barzy on Instagram, he brags about you all the time.”

“Yeah, sounds like him,” she said, tapping her fingers on her thigh. 

“Are you going to introduce me?” His mom asked from beside him. 

“Oh, yeah, ‘course,” Auston said, stumbling over his words. “Mom, this is Cassidy, obviously. Cassidy — Cass?” He questioned, looking over at her. She nodded. “Cass, this is my mom Ema.” She greeted her with a warm hug, and Cass just about melted. Moms really do give the best hugs. 

Ema spoke up. “Do you have family in Hermosillo? I heard you mention it on the phone.”

“Mhm!” Cass’s head almost bounced from how fast she was nodding. “My grandparents split time between there and San Antonio, we try to visit for a few weeks every summer.”

“That’s where I grew up,” she responded, beaming. “It’s wonderful, but the summers get so hot, don’t they?” Cass and Auston both nodded. 

“I think it got up to 110º when I was there once? Maybe 115º? I want to lock myself in a freezer sometimes, I swear.” The whole group collapses into laughs, and spent a few minutes talking before Cass had to tear herself away and find her seats with Mat’s family for the fastest skater competition. Ema had left her with no fewer than three restaurant recommendations, making her swear to try them all. “Best tacos I’ve ever had,” she had said about one. 

Cass greeted Mat’s family with a wave as they settled into their seats, one row up from the ice on the right side. The players had just come out, and it only took a few seconds to make eye contact with Mat. She was wearing his — her — jersey, and had long since abandoned trying to roll up and cuff the sleeves. It wasn’t going to happen, and she kind of liked the feeling of being buried in it. She blew him a kiss as the announcers voices echoed through the stadium, and the heat was on. 

Mat was slated to go last, which was either the best or worst thing depending on how you thought about it. Cass was always someone to sign up for the first slot for speeches and presentations, and hated having late games in tournaments during her lacrosse days. She liked being able to get it over with. Mat was the opposite. He was competitive and stubborn to a fault, needing to size up the competition and get ahead of the game. Needed to know what to expect. There first few she didn’t recognize, a few first-time faces to the All-Star competition, a rookie from Winnipeg who was a favorite for the Calder. Everyone was doing well, really well — all the times but one were under 14 seconds, but nobody had broken Mat’s time yet. 

Eichel got close, McDavid got closer, and then Mat was up to defend his championship. She blew a kiss to him as he stepped up to the line, murmured a prayer, and the whistle blew. Clean straightaways, tight turns, gaining speed on the curves, and in the blink of an eye it was over. Cass knew he had won, the roar of the crowd told her as much, but she didn’t realize his time. She didn’t realize until the announcer reported that with a time of 13.080 seconds, Mathew Barzal had just set the record. His face was stunned for a moment, looking up at the screen and then down at the ice and then back up at the screen again, while being hugged and congratulated from all sides, as if trying to process what had just happened. 

It was the last one of the night, so Cass said her goodbyes to Mat’s family, with a promise to meet up before the game the next day, and hurried down to meet Mat. There wasn’t anything formal scheduled for the rest of the night, so he came out of the locker room in just a pair of athletic shorts and an Islanders t-shirt. Cass ran up, jumping into his arms as he dropped his bag to catch her. “Woah, babe,” he said, steadying his hands on the back of her thighs, “coulda given me a warning there.”

Cass kissed him. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun that way, though, huh?”

“You’re right.” Mat shrugged good-naturedly, setting Cass down and grabbing his bag and her hand. 

“How does it feel having beaten the record?” Cass asked. 

Mat ran his free hand through his hair, still shower-damp. “So surreal. I wasn’t even sure I’d win, not with how stacked the lineup was, let alone get anywhere near breaking the record. It’s ridiculous, but it’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing.”

 Jan. 30 (sat)

 Mat was busy doing media and catching up with some of the guys before the game later that day, and Cass had elected to stay in the room. Mat had offered for her to come along, “you might think it’s interesting?” he had noted, but she’d be damned if she let herself fall behind in her last semester, she was just too close. It had already been a bit of a stretch for her to take a day off and come for the whole weekend, so her afternoon was instead filled with some utterly thrilling reading on advanced contract theory and a thick-as-all-hell review book for the New York state bar. She leaned back in her chair, taking the last remaining sip of the mediocre Lipton tea she had snagged from the basket by the room’s coffee maker. She could finish it later.

Cass picked up her phone, pressing play on a voicemail from Fiona that had been left earlier in the afternoon. 

Uh, hey, it’s me. Cass, I don’t know if this is what you want to hear, but I don’t think I’d be a very good friend if I didn’t say it. Uh-oh. Conversations that started like that never ended well. I’m happy about you and Mat, I know you like him a lot, but I’m worried that he’s distracting you. I know you told us you’d be gone, but we missed you at the study group, and I know you skipped your law review meeting today. The rest of the message was more of the same, but one sentence stuck out to her. Think about where your priorities are. Think about where you want them to be. 

Fiona Chan had a one-track mind. And Cass loved her for it — she was one of the most dedicated people she knew and an incredible friend. But she sometimes found it hard to understand when people had priorities that extended beyond the bounds of law school, when their sole focus wasn’t on their Contracts final or clinic or clerkship they were doing for some top-tier appellate judge. 

She flopped back on the bed. Think about where your priorities are. She had been spending a lot of time with Mat lately, but no more than anyone would spend with their significant other — right? And it wasn’t a sin for her to have a life outside of law school. She was still more than competent at her job, got most of the reading done, was prepared when professors would cold-call on her. She still showed up to meetings. 

But even she would admit that her head wasn’t in the game all the time, if she could hazard another High School Musical reference. She’d sneak texts, meet him for lunch instead of going to office hours, and now, take weekends off to be with him. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Or was it? Her grades weren’t really suffering, and nobody else had mentioned anything. Friends notice things, though, Cass thought. And Fiona was one of the most perceptive people she knew. She groaned. Why wasn’t there ever an easy way to figure these things out? She really liked Mat — she might even love him — but Cass couldn’t help but feel like she was gambling on something that wasn’t a sure thing. And her future wasn’t something to play games with. 

[foryouandbits]

ASG

Based off this post of a headcanon of Bitty beating out the other skaters at the All-Star Game without even being in the league. 

Read on AO3.

Early in the morning on the first of January, Jack Zimmermann was asleep in his bed with his boyfriend on his chest. Bitty had returned early from Georgia to spend the last few days of his winter break in Providence. They had hoped to ring in the new year together, but Jack had an away game and was in the air as 2016 turned to 2017. It was fine; that was the sacrifice they made so Jack could play professional hockey. A phone buzzed. Jack felt Bitty stir but neither of them woke. A second buzz was enough to fully wake Jack, who opened his eyes and looked over at the nightstand. It was still much too early. It was a holiday and he had the day off. While he wasn't planning on sleeping in, he was planning on a lazy morning in bed with Bitty. Usually early morning texts meant he was needed somewhere, and at the moment he was needed there in his bed with Bitty. The phone buzzed again. "You should look at those," murmured Bitty. "Mmm, no," said Jack, who wrapped his arm around Bitty, catching the cool print of his number on the back of Bitty's Providence Falconers shirsey. It wasn't a pleasant feeling on his fingertips, so he slipped his hand under the hem of the shirt to touch Bitty's skin instead. That was much better and it made Bitty sigh in the way he did when something felt good. Much to Jack's chagrin, Bitty lifted his head and took the phone from the nightstand. He quickly sat up. "What?" Jack asked, finally opening his eyes. Bitty's hair was mussed and stuck up more than just the usual cowlick at the crown of his head. His eyes were heavy and dark; he'd waited up for Jack to arrive home before they both fell into bed around two-thirty in the morning. Jack stared at him anyway as Bitty's expression lightened and his mouth turned into a broad smile. "What?" Jack asked again. "You've been selected for the All-Star Game," said Bitty, turning the phone toward Jack. 

The phone displayed three notifications, all texts from George Martin: George Guess what? George Just got the call George You've been selected to the ASG this year! Jack rubbed at his eyes. It was much too early and they'd gone to bed much too late. "What?" he said again, but when he opened his eyes the notifications were still there, and George had texted again. George Up and at 'em, Jack. I need to confirm that you're in. Jack took the phone from Bitty and unlocked it so he could stare at the texts without the display dimming. He must have still been dreaming, or perhaps he was hallucinating, because this was ridiculous. This was his second season. It was entirely too early for him to be considered an All-Star. "You okay, sweetpea?" Bitty asked. He'd placed a hand on Jack's bare skin, on the six inches between the waist of his boxers and the hem of his rucked-up T-shirt. Jack frowned as he continued to look at the texts. His gaze flickered to Bitty, who was still smiling at him. Bitty took the phone out of his hands, put it on the nightstand, and then straddled Jack's hips, both of his hands on Jack's skin now as his beaming smile morphed into a smirk, something much too sexy for this early in the morning. "It's legit, honey," said Bitty, as if reading Jack's mind. "They want you on the All-Star team." "But…why?" Jack asked. "Because you are a star, Mister Zimmermann," said Bitty, and he leaned forward for a brief kiss before he returned upright. "You are a Stanley Cup champion. You are a Conn Smythe winner. You are an alternate captain —" "Alternate captain," Jack clarified. "Which you were named in your rookie year. I would not at all be surprised if you were chosen as the captain captain when the time comes to name one." Jack continued to frown, but Bitty looked so enticing, straddling his hips, touching his skin, grinning at him, and pointing out accomplishments as if they meant something. They did mean something, because Bitty had never doled out compliments for no reason. Not to Jack, not in their bed, not when they were alone. "Will you come with me?" Jack asked when he finally put his hands underneath Bitty's shirt. "To the ASG?" Bitty asked in surprise. "I… I don't know." "Guys usually bring their families," said Jack, running his hand up Bitty's side to hopefully remove the surprise and bring back the desire. "Yeah, their kids. Not their WAGs." "You're not a WAG," said Jack. "This is true," said Bitty. "Come with me," repeated Jack and his hands reached Bitty's armpits, the shirt coming with them, so he continued up until the shirt was off Bitty's body and on the floor. Jack returned his hands to Bitty's skin and slid them down to the waistband of his small sleep shorts, the kind he always wore to bed with Jack, because Jack liked them. At the present, Jack just wanted them gone. Bitty bent forward and gave Jack a deep kiss, allowing Jack to pull him down so their bodies were flush together. The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. They both ignored it. *** The 2017 All-Star Game took place in Los Angeles the last weekend of January. Jack flew in alone on Friday night. The opening dinner and after party were boring, so he schmoozed for the shortest amount of time possible and went to bed early. Bitty would be flying in on Saturday while Jack was in the press junket, but had to leave again right away in the morning to be back at Samwell in time for his game on Sunday afternoon. With the skills competition taking up most of the evening, Jack was disappointed that he'd only get a few hours alone with his boyfriend in the warmth of southern California before they both returned to the frigid Northeast. Jack was pacing in his hotel room, dressed in his suit, his eyes on the clock. Bitty was stuck in horrendous LA traffic and Jack needed to leave so he wasn't late. For some reason the All-Star Game included a red carpet, which he felt was both ridiculous and unnecessary. This was his first appearance at the ASG, and it might be his last if he missed the red carpet because he wanted to see his boyfriend. Savannah, the Falconers' Director of PR, sat in the armchair, her legs crossed, her hand to her temple, her eyes on the clock. "Jack, we've got to go." "Just another minute, he said they were almost here," said Jack, but he continued to pace in front of the king sized bed. "You can see him at the arena. People are already on the red carpet. If we don't leave now you're going to miss it, and I know there are fans waiting to see you." Jack groaned and finally sat on the bed when a loud knock sounded on the door. He jumped up just as quickly and ran to the door, which he opened to reveal Bitty with his carry-on suitcase, looking frazzled and annoyed. "Hi, sweetie. I am so sorry. I've heard that traffic in LA is bad but holy moly is it bad." "That's okay," said Jack, who paused at the door to give Bitty a kiss before he took the suitcase and brought it into the room. Savannah was on her feet. "Hi Bitty," she said. "We've got to get going. Are you riding in the car with us?" "Oh!" said Bitty and he looked at Jack. "Am I?" "Yes," said Jack. "Is that what you're wearing?" Savannah asked. Bitty looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans and his Samwell jersey. "Oh, sorry," he said. "There was a captains event right before my flight. I never changed. I can put on something else…" "No time," said Savannah. "Let's go." Savannah rushed them into the elevator and downstairs to the waiting black SUV. Savannah ushered Jack and Bitty into the back seat, and then she took the front. Once in the car, Jack relaxed, his hand in Bitty's, looking at his boyfriend rather than the road. "I'm glad you could come," said Jack, his head against the headrest as he looked at Bitty, who smiled happily at him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," said Bitty, and he brought Jack's hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "Are you nervous? Jack had completely forgotten that he was about to compete with forty-three of the best players in the league. He was one of the forty-four best players in the league. So far the weekend had a very laid back air about it, but even so, he wanted to do well. He could just imagine making a fool out of himself in the fastest skater competition. He already didn't think he belonged there. George had been the one to tell him about it, and he stared at her after she said it, just like he'd stared at the text that brought him here. He figured he'd be asked to compete in the accuracy challenge, or maybe the hardest shot, but George said he was one of the two selections from the Metropolitan division as the fastest skater. It made no sense. He and Bitty had just gone skating in Madison, and Bitty had just smoked him on a lap around the rink. Jack was not a fast skater. "You are, though," said George when Jack vocalized this. "The challenges are head-to-head between divisions. They specifically nominated you for this one, and honestly, Jack, I'd put money on you to win." Jack was nervous, actually, but with Bitty next to him, it wasn't so bad. He kissed Bitty instead of replying to him, and Bitty blushed as he glanced at the front of the car. It had been seven months since they kissed at center ice in front of an audience of millions, but even so, Bitty still looked around whenever Jack kissed him in front of people he didn't know. Jack rubbed his thumb over Bitty's knuckles and Bitty relaxed. "Where am I sitting?" Bitty asked. "Good question," said Jack. He looked toward the front. "Savannah, where is Bitty sitting?" "There's a WAG section at press level," said Savannah. "Bitty's not a WAG," said Jack. "WAG and boyfriend section," said Savannah tersely. Jack rolled his eyes; Savannah's team had tried to come up with an inclusive acronym that wasn't "wives and girlfriends and I guess also boyfriends and maybe husbands someday," and so far no one had come up with anything catchy enough to stick. Every time events came up that included family, it was still just WAGs with an afterthought of "and Bitty too." It was frustrating, but fortunately it was the only frustrating part of being out in a league notorious for its homophobia. The red carpet was mostly fans, but there was a line of photographers that snapped pictures of him after he got out of the car and headed toward the arena. A camera followed him to the halfway point of the carpet and then hastily returned to the street to welcome the next player. Jack waved at fans, some of whom held rainbow flags with the Providence Falconers' logo on it. He stopped for autographs, focusing on children in Falconers gear, and then waved and continued inside. There were cameras in here as well, but it was much quieter. To his surprise, Bitty stepped up next to him. Savannah was just a few feet behind; they must have both exited the car as well but kept their distance until they entered the arena. "Oh, hi," said Jack. "You want to come with me while I get my gear on?" "Okay," said Bitty, although he eyed a nearby camera warily. It was crowded in the dressing room. Jack's gear was already waiting in a stall on the Metropolitan side, but they shared the dressing room with the Atlantic division so there were really no fewer guys than normal in the room, and almost everyone had an entourage. There was a camera and a reporter from every major network. It was fortunate Bitty was small; he and Jack squeezed together in Jack's stall as Jack began to change clothes. Jack had just half his gear on when he realized Savannah was gone. He looked around; someone from the Atlantic division was lacing up skates for his son, who clearly was meant to come out on the ice with him. Jack looked at Bitty. "You want to come on the ice with me?" he asked. Bitty's eyes widened. "Ooh, I don't know, Jack. I don't think I'm allowed." "Why not? I bet I could get gear for you in a snap. You're already wearing your jersey." "Gear? Jack, don't be ridiculous. I'll stay with you until you need to go on the ice and then I'll go to the WAG section." "You mean the WAG and Bitty section," Jack said darkly and Bitty frowned. Jack sent off a text and by the time Jack was putting on his jersey, an equipment manager appeared with a full set of gear in Bitty's size, including skates. 

Bitty shot Jack a look. "Are you serious?" Bitty asked. Jack smiled at him and stood to give Bitty room to change. Bitty looked around, but no one was paying attention to him, so he began to untie his shoes. The blue Falconers shorts didn't match his red and white Samwell jersey, but the skates fit, and when Bitty joined Jack on the ice after the opening ceremony, no one questioned his presence although several people requested an introduction.

"Hi, hi, oh my goodness hi," Bitty repeated as he shook hands with the current legends of hockey, his eyes wide and his smile immovable. Jack introduced him as "my boyfriend" and relished in the full feeling in his chest whenever he was able to do so, despite the cameras recording all of them for national broadcast, despite the eighteen thousand fans in attendance. He'd been so afraid of this for so long, ever since juniors, but there he stood with his boyfriend, and not a single person detracted from his happiness. During the first challenge, a four-man relay involving passing, puck control, stick-handling, and goalie goals, Shea Weber from the Canadiens had a five-minute conversation with Bitty about college hockey, which Shea bypassed by going directly from juniors to the NHL.

Bitty was still speaking with Shea when the next event began, a four line challenge that Jack would be participating in. Jack took hold of the stick that Bitty had been leaning on. "Oh, is it your turn already?" Bitty asked.

"Just for a group challenge. The fastest skater challenge is later."

"Good luck, sweetie," said Bitty as he handed over the stick, and he returned to his conversation. Jack joined his group of skaters at the center line. He would be part of the second group to go, and he began to feel nervous as he knelt on one knee, watching the first group as they set up at the blue line, aiming at the net that was mostly blocked apart from four very small openings. It looked ridiculously difficult but after the first group of players went and only one person actually scored a point, the pressure seemed to ease off. None of this really mattered and from the look of it, scoring even once seemed nearly impossible.

The first player in his group, Erik Karlsson, failed at getting both shots in the net. A referee turned to Jack and signaled that he take his place. He approached the center red line and let out a big breath. The audience seemed more chatty than cheery, but he heard a few screams when he set up and most audibly a shout from Bitty: "Show 'em how it's done, Jack!"

He juggled a puck on his stick and looked toward the net. There were holes in the upper corners and lower corners and while the uppers were larger and worth more points, Jack knew the chance of getting something in one of them was steep compared to just shooting along the ice into the lower corners. He had two chances so he decided to try for an upper on his first shot, but the puck smacked into the barrier rather than into the net, so he decided that attempting another in that direction was too risky. He took the other puck on his stick and Bitty shouted again, "You've got this!" He aimed for the lower right corner of the net, keeping the puck along the ice, and held his breath as it sailed forward. It hit the post but plinked in, and Jack pumped his fist as the crowd roared and Bitty wooed.

Smiling, Jack returned to the side of the ice and received fist bumps the two remaining members of the Metropolitan division. At the end of the challenge Jack was only one of four players who'd managed to net a puck, but Mike Smith, the goalie from the Arizona Coyotes, shot one in from his own goal line and as a result earned the Pacific division thirty points, so Jack's singular point made no difference. He skated across the rink back to Bitty, who beamed at him. "That was awesome, sweetie," he said and grabbed hold of Jack's arm in sort of a hug before he quickly let go. 

"This is too much pressure," said Jack, which caused Bitty to roll his eyes. "I think you should do the next one for me."

"Me?" Bitty asked, scandalized. "Jack, this is your competition, not mine."

"I'm not fast enough. You do it."

Bitty rolled his eyes again, but after the accuracy challenge, Jack took Bitty's hand and dragged him across the ice with him. "Jack, seriously, I'm not in the NHL. I'm not allowed to do this." Jack pushed Bitty toward Nikita Kucherov, who gave Bitty a strange look, but didn't say anything as Jack knelt with them. There wasn't a lot of time for Bitty to protest, however, as the TV feed returned from commercial and Kucherov stood. The camera focused on him but then as the in-arena announcement stated, "First in the Fastest Skater Challenge, Nikita Kucherov from the Tampa Bay Lightning against Jack Zimmermann from the Providence Falconers," Jack pushed Bitty. Bitty stood and the camera moved to him rather than Jack. Bitty smiled shyly and waved.

Jack looked across the rink at the press box located between the two team benches. Kent Parson, who'd been injured the previous week and thus wouldn't compete, stood next to an announcer with a headset on. Jack couldn't help a smile; they'd grabbed a few players to commentate during the challenges, and of course Parse would be asked for this one since he'd won it the year before. Parse looked impassively at Bitty, but Jack knew his face well enough to know that Parse was stifling a scowl. As Bitty and Kucherov were directed to the starting line by a referee, the rinkside announcer, Scott Oake, quickly snatched Jack from the ice and handed him a headset. As soon as he put the headset on, he could hear Parse speaking.

"...like Jack found a substitute," Parse was saying.

"Jack," asked Scott, "who's this you've got taking your place?"

"This is Eric Bittle, my boyfriend," said Jack, and then there it was, the first hesitation. There was no way Scott didn't know Jack had a boyfriend, or hadn't made the connection, but it was clear he hadn't expected Jack to be so bold on national television.

"What jersey is he wearing tonight?" Scott asked after a significant pause.

"That would be his. He's the captain of the hockey team at Samwell University in Boston. And he's very fast, so I'm expecting him to win this heat," said Jack. He looked at the ice and Bitty stood at the blue line, Jack's stick in his hand, his eyes on the referee. The referee blew a whistle and Bitty bolted forward, the crowd cheering him on but Jack watching silently, enthralled by his speed and his grace. Bitty might have been the reason Jack could even be considered for this sort of challenge, but there was no question Jack would rather watch Bitty go than compete on his own. Kucherov wasn't far behind, but he was behind, and as they rounded the second turn and headed back to the original blue line to finish, the tip of Jack's stick crossed first. Jack looked up at the time: thirteen seconds even, as opposed to Kucherov's time of 13.16 seconds.

"Nice," Jack said.

"Eric Bittle has beaten the winning score from last year's competition of 13.172 seconds. Kent, how do you feel about Eric breaking your record?" asked a different announcer across the rink.

"That doesn't count," said Parse. "He doesn't even go here."

Jack laughed, and Parse did too, although Jack recognized his fake media laugh even through a headset and eighteen thousand cheering fans. Bitty skated over to Jack and he said, "Good job, bud," as Bitty approached. Bitty stopped next to him and Scott held out his microphone.

"That was an impressive time," Scott said. Bitty had to lean in to hear over the cheering. "Is this something you practiced coming in to tonight?"

"This is a drill I'm familiar with back at Samwell," said Bitty, slightly out of breath as he gestured to the setup of the rink, which was split in half with three cones marking the turns at the faceoff dots near the goal line. "I'm usually not racing against someone, though. That made it more fun."

"Well congratulations on winning the first heat. Let's see how the rest goes."

Jack kept his headset on the rest of the challenge, which was awkward. Bitty had just beat an NHL player in a lap around the rink, and while it didn't surprise Jack, it definitely turned him on, and he very much wanted to congratulate Bitty without a microphone next to his mouth and a camera in his face. Bitty stood with him, eventually regaining his breath, but as the next set of players raced, neither met his time. "Oh dear," said Bitty when he looked at the scoreboard. Jack's name remained on the display, Bitty's time next to it. The third set of players raced, and again neither beat Bitty's time, but the final heat contained Connor McDavid, who was well-known for his speed. Jack felt his heartbeat tick up as McDavid took the line. If anyone was going to beat Bitty's time it was him, but just over thirteen seconds later, Jack was looking at the scoreboard for the result, and he said a loud, "NICE!" when Connor McDavid's score posted just below Bitty's name, with a time of 13.02 seconds.

"Oh hey!" said Bitty, smiling brightly although his face was beet red. "Do I win something?"

"Every challenge winner gets $25,000," said Scott and Bitty's eyes glazed over in shock as he looked at Jack. 

Jack couldn't stop grinning.

***

"You were so good, Bits," said Jack that evening back in the hotel room, Bitty still in his Samwell jersey per Jack's request, Jack still in his dress shirt and slacks per Bitty's request. They'd settled onto the bed but Jack couldn't keep his hands off Bitty's body, looking him up and down as he remembered the cheering of the crowd, the wind through Bitty's hair, Bitty's stick crossing the blue line an entire foot before Kucherov's. "Nobody else was even close."

"Connor McDavid was close," said Bitty.

"Barely."

"It was two hundredths of a second!"

"It was miles," said Jack and he put his face into Bitty's neck, kissing his sensitive skin there. Bitty squirmed. Jack lowered his hand from underneath Bitty's jersey to the back of his jeans, gripping his butt through the denim, which caused Bitty to squirm again. It was exactly what Jack wanted. Jack began to suck at the skin beneath Bitty's ear, but this time he squirmed too much and pulled away.

"Stop it, sweetpea, I've got a game tomorrow."

"But you taste good," whispered Jack into Bitty's ear. Bitty turned his head and caught Jack's mouth, and they kissed for what felt like hours only to be interrupted by the buzz of Jack's phone. Bitty pulled away and groaned, his head turned toward it, but Jack put his hand on the side of Bitty's head to direct him back.

"What if it's important?" Bitty asked.

"Then they'll text again."

Unfortunately, that was what happened, and Jack's phone buzzed a second time. He groaned and reached over Bitty's alluring body, fully clothed in his jeans and jersey, to the nightstand where his phone charged. He looked at it. George again.

George What time is Bitty’s game tomorrow?  George I’ve got four scouts blowing up my phone 

Jack stared at the message, an internal debate raging in his mind. George could have easily looked up the time of the Samwell game, as could the scouts, but she wasn't asking for information. She was asking for approval. Bitty in the NHL would be amazing; he'd always thought Bitty was a world-class player who elevated the game of those around him while still holding his own, but if Bitty wasn't on the Falconers, Jack would spend three fourths of every year away from him. At least now Bitty could pop in during the weekend, or just for a night if he didn't have an early class. There would be significantly less of that if Bitty were in the league as well.

This, however, wasn't Jack's decision. He showed his screen to Bitty for him to decide. Bitty took hold of the phone and stared at it, and as he did his eyes filled with tears that he successfully prevented from spilling over. "Really?" Bitty asked as he looked at Jack.

"Looks real to me," said Jack. "What do you think?"

"I... that would be wonderful," said Bitty immediately, which caused Jack's heart to sink. Four scouts blowing up George's phone didn't include the Falconers' too, otherwise George would have mentioned it. Bitty returned the phone and Jack put it back on the nightstand without responding. Bitty wiped at his eyes and when he took his his hands away from his face, he looked less wistful and more grounded. "It would be wonderful, but that's so much, Jack. What if I ended up in Florida or Texas or all the way in Vancouver? I'd never see you."

"This isn't about me," said Jack. "What do you want?"

Bitty was silent for a long time, looking away from Jack and up at the plain white ceiling. Jack lay on the pillow next to Bitty and held him loosely around the waist, but didn't speak and didn't nudge until Bitty looked back at him. "I love hockey," said Bitty. "I really do."

"But?" Jack asked, vocalizing what Bitty didn't.

"But I don't love it like you do. I don't think this is my life."

"You don't have to decide right now. We can get you an agent, see if you get any offers..." 

Bitty shook his head decidedly. "No. Even if I was guaranteed to play with you, I can't. This isn't what I want."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

Bitty nodded, but the tears were back in his eyes. "Oh my God,"  he said. "Oh my God, I just said no to the NHL."

"It's not what you want," said Jack quietly, and he rubbed Bitty's stomach gently. "What do you want?"

Bitty lifted his head. "Well, I just won myself a little nest egg," he said. "I think we should get serious about the bakery. What was that place you saw the other day on your run?"

"It's a nice location. It's a busy street but there's enough parking," said Jack.

"I think we should do it," said Bitty. "I think I should do it."

"If that's what you want," said Jack, and Bitty smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I want," he said. "But you know what I want first?"

"What?"

Bitty kissed him again and let Jack roll him onto his back. "Thank God," said Jack as he tugged up the hem of Bitty's jersey. "I wanted to fuck you as soon as you crossed the finish line."

Bitty grinned. "You should have."

"I should have," said Jack. He removed Bitty's jersey and then kissed him again.

***

Jack Thank you, but he’s not interested Jack But you can tell Parse if he wants a rematch, he can eat Bitty’s dust at Faber

[estamos-destinadas]

HP AU Sneak Peak

(posting because of this ask)

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(Warning: Val already has a b- 🤢boyf- 🤢boyfriend 🤮 at this point. 😬

Please ignore typos and grammar mistakes, I haven’t made a final pass on this. And I know there’s a lot of new names here, but they will get introduced in the earlier chapters.

Also, Val plays Chaser.)

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Fourteen players hovered in the air in the middle of the Quidditch pitch as they waited for the whistle to start the game. Valentina took one of the wing positions, with Trevor to her left and Jonathan on his other side. Gwen and Landon were behind them, both Beaters’ bats at the ready. James was sitting the match out with the other seventh-years, and the Captain’s badge had gone to Gwen, who gave Valentina a wide grin when she turned to look at them. Way at the back, Maddie was already positioned in front of the goalposts; they sat on their broom with their usual calm demeanour. Charles was at the head of the formation, hovering a few feet away from the opposing team’s Seeker. He looked around and shot an encouraging smile at Valentina, who returned it with a tight-lipped one.

Valentina was feeling a little nervous. Maybe more than a little. Earlier at lunch, she almost hadn’t touched her food for fear of throwing up had it not been for Juliana, who had seemed like she would have spoonfed her had Valentina not started eating.

Juliana was at the stands now. She and Guille were sitting together, like they had during the first few games of the season. Sierra, Sergio, and most of Valentina’s classmates were with them, as were a few of Juliana’s classmates. Eva couldn’t come, but Valentina understood because she was studying for her CATs.

Valentina squinted against the sun to get a good look at Juliana and the others.

The group was waving around three different banners for Valentina, all of which were made by Juliana. The one Juliana was carrying had a drawing of Valentina on it, flying and scoring goals, while the words “Vamos Valentina!” glittered at the top. It was big enough that Juliana needed her classmate Grace’s help to wave it around. Juliana was also wearing face paint: two V’s on either cheek, in Ilvermorny’s red and blue colours. Valentina couldn’t make it out from the middle of the pitch, but Juliana had looked extremely cute when Valentina saw her up-close earlier. Of course, in typical Juliana fashion, she’d jokingly said that the V’s were for ‘Valdés’ and not ‘Valentina’. The good-natured teasing had made Valentina less nervous about her first-ever competitive match.

Valentina’s stomach fluttered pleasantly at the thought of her best friend’s unequivocal support. Taking a few more seconds to gaze at Juliana in the stands -- and Guille and her other friends, of course -- Valentina inhaled deeply before facing forwards again, looking at their opponents.

They were going up against the Stonewall Squalls, a youth team fielded by the professional club Stonewall Stormers. Like Ilvermorny, the Squalls were already out of the running for the final playoffs, but both teams still needed to win in order to be better positioned for the next season.

The referee blew on her whistle and, as the high-pitched sound rang out around the stadium, she tossed the Quaffle in the air.

As planned, Valentina, on her top-of-the-line broom, went for the Quaffle while Charles, the Beaters, and the other two Chasers formed a wall to prevent the opposing team’s Chasers from beating her to it. Valentina quickly caught the Quaffle, snatching it out of the air before it could reach its maximum height. That done, Charles sped off towards a more elevated position while Gwen and Landon went after the Bludgers. With the Quaffle securely in her grip, Valentina flew towards the opposing team’s goalposts, Trevor and Jonathan in her wings.

Two Bludgers flew towards Valentina in quick succession; she ducked the first one while Gwen hit the second one away from her. One of the opposing team’s Beaters tried to body check her; she dropped several feet below even as she passed the Quaffle to Trevor. Knowing that Trevor and Jonathan could manage by themselves with the help of the Beaters, Valentina flew ahead of them, stopping just short of the scoring area. Trevor and Jonathan soon caught after her; the former was speeding towards the goalposts with Quaffle in hand while the latter flew just below. Just before he reached the scoring area, Trevor dropped the Quaffle to Jonathan and looped around. The opposing Keeper flew towards Jonathan, but Jonathan passed the Quaffle to Valentina without entering the scoring area. Valentina flew into the scoring area with Quaffle in hand, ducking a Bludger that was sent her way. The opposing Keeper, caught out of position, could only watch as Valentina easily shot the Quaffle through the right-most goalpost, earning cheers from Ilvermorny’s side of the stadium.

Valentina shot a quick glance towards where Juliana -- and the others -- were seated before focusing back on the game.

The next hour and a half passed in the same manner. Valentina and her fellow Chasers scored quick goals, taking full advantage of the fact that Valentina “flew like a Seeker” -- that was said by Stephanie, who had thought up the Chasers’ strategy for the game. Gwen and Landon, both of whom didn’t have the typical Beater’s build, played an offensive game. Instead of Beating the Bludgers away from their teammates, they focused on hitting it towards opposing team members, trusting Valentina and the others to be able to take care of themselves. That strategy, coupled with Maddie’s unflappable presence in front of the goalposts, meant that the Squalls scored only a single goal to Ilvermorny’s two or three.

Valentina and her teammates couldn’t be complacent though. Catching the Golden Snitch gave the Seeker’s team one hundred and fifty points, and the Squalls’ Seeker was their best player, even one of the best in the league. Valentina and her fellow Chasers would need to score fifteen goals more than their opposite numbers in order to neutralise their advantage.

They were only thirteen goals ahead when Charles and the Squalls’ Seeker started racing in the same direction. A second later, Maddie yelled out, “it’s not a feint!”

As previously agreed, Valentina split away from her fellow Chasers and, along with Gwen and Landon, went after Charles and the other Seeker. The plan was for Gwen and Landon to hit the Bludgers towards the opposing Seeker while Valentina ran interference, distracting the Seeker as well as she could without going so far as to commit a foul.

It worked. The opposing team’s Seeker fell farther and farther behind Charles, and then--

Still playing interference, Valentina heard the crowd roar before she saw what happened--

Charles caught the Snitch!

Valentina and the rest of their teammates flew towards him. Gwen and Landon reached him first, then Valentina, then Trevor and Jonathan, then finally Maddie. With the crowd chanting an Ilvermorny cheer song, all seven of them, hugging awkwardly despite being on separate brooms, slowly drifted downwards. They were accosted by their other teammates the moment they reached the ground, with Diana and even soft-spoken Stephanie yelling in Valentina’s ears.

After being crushed in a three-way hug between Gwen and Maddie, Valentina found herself face to face with Charles. He grinned widely at her.

“Val, you did amazing!” he exclaimed. “Congratulations on your first game.”

Valentina could not contain her smile. The win was exhilarating, and she was still pumped-up from their fast-paced game. “Thank you! You did great catching the Snitch too!”

Charles shook his head. “I couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help-- without your help,” he added. He gave her a significant look, then made to give her a kiss.

Valentina stepped back, her smile fading. They’d kissed a few more times after they’d officially become an item, and they’d even gone on one more date, but, “Not here.” She looked pointedly around the crowded stadium; she’d already told him that she didn’t like public displays of affection.

Charles' smile fell for a moment, but he rallied quickly. “Oh, right,” he said jovially. “Well, hug?”

A celebratory hug, Valentina could do. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly in her excitement over their win.

When they separated, Valentina shot Charles a smile before looking towards the stands in the direction of where Juliana and the others were seated. Juliana was jumping up and down on her seat; the banner she was holding fluttered along with her motion. The others with her were celebrating in a similar manner. Valentina wanted to join them, but she settled for waving exuberantly in their direction, letting them know that she had seen them.

Valentina turned back to her teammates to see James smiling at her. “Go on,” he said, nodding towards Juliana and their friends. “Go up to them.”

Not needing to be told twice, Valentina jumped on her broom and flew up towards her friends. She was halfway out of the pitch when Jonathan zoomed past her, shouting, “look alive, Carvajal!” Narrowing her eyes, she increased her speed, successfully beating him to the stands, though she almost crashed into the row of seats in front of Juliana and the others.

“Ay, ten cuidado, Vale!” Guille exclaimed.

Ignoring her brother’s words, Valentina dismounted from her broom and jumped towards Juliana, engulfing her in a tight hug and accidentally knocking away the banner in Juliana’s hands in the process. She felt Guille gathering the two of them in a bear hug, then Sierra and Sergio joined in.

The group hug broke up after several seconds, but Guille kept his hands on Valentina’s shoulders. “Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, Vale,” he said, his proud smile reflecting his words. “I don’t know if you were keeping track, but you scored the most goals,” he added, still in Spanish. “And Charles wouldn’t have caught that Snitch without your help. You did so well!”

If possible, Valentina’s already huge grin widened at her brother’s words. She gave him another hug and said, “Gracias, hermanito.”

“Okay, I have no idea what you two just said,” Sierra started, “but congratulations Val! I don’t know a lot about Quidditch, but girl, you were on fire!”

Laughing, Valentina stepped away from her brother and turned to her friend. “Thanks, Sierra,” she said in English.

Sergio and Valentina’s other classmates, as well as Juliana’s classmates, chimed in with their congratulations. Valentina thanked all of them before turning to Juliana, who had remained quiet during the round of compliments.

Juliana was holding the banner that Valentina had knocked out again. It was only then that Valentina noticed that the drawing on the banner had changed. The Valentina in the drawing was now doing some kind of victory lap; there were fireworks going off at the top, which formed the words “Valentina la Ganadora” at the end of drawing-Valentina’s lap around the banner. Juliana nodded at something behind Valentina, and she turned around to see Guille and Sergio having picked up their banners, both showing the same congratulatory message as Juliana’s. Valentina turned back to her best friend.

Juliana was grinning widely at her. “Image-switching magic,” she said simply. “Congrats, Val.”

Valentina could barely identify the myriad of emotions that she felt at the sight before her. Her heart seemed to expand in her chest. The only thing she could think of doing was throwing her arms around her best friend and wrapping her in the tightest embrace possible, so she did. She let go, eventually, but not before whispering her thanks in Juliana’s ears.

Juliana’s face seemed a little pink. Valentina felt slightly guilty. She must have hugged Juliana a little too tightly. It was something she compulsively tended to do with Juliana, as Guille had observed a couple of times before.

Clearing her throat, Valentina said, “I have to get back to the team.” She glanced at her brother and her other friends before turning back to Juliana.

“Okay,” Juliana said, nodding and smiling softly, the painted V’s on her cheeks now a little smudged. “We’ll see you later, Val,” she added. Guille and their other friends expressed their agreement.

“Okay,” Valentina echoed Juliana’s words as she finally dropped her hands from Juliana’s shoulders.

Valentina picked up her broom before glancing back at Juliana. And then, letting her emotions dictate her actions, she went up to Juliana again and planted a kiss on her cheek. Juliana’s smile was even softer when Valentina pulled away, but everyone else burst out laughing.

“Uh, your lips are blue now,” Grace pointed out to Valentina after a moment.

“Quite a good colour,” Sierra quipped, and they all started laughing again.

.

That evening, the Quidditch team once again held a party in the dungeons to celebrate their win, as well as to celebrate the season in its entirety. Valentina was declared the MVP of the final match, and she accepted her teammates’ congratulations with not a little pride.

The best part of the evening was that Juliana had snuck in to the party, saying that it wasn’t every day that Valentina won her first-ever competitive match. James pretended not to notice Juliana’s presence, declaring that the Captain’s badge all but officially belonged to Gwen already. Of course, that didn’t stop him from keeping a watchful eye on the drinks in order to make sure that no one spiked them.

Valentina didn’t mind at all. As long as Juliana was there to celebrate with her, Valentina was happy.

[theangrypokemaniac]

Ma and Pa James's Second Biggest Fan (we plough a lonely furrow) continues to find Ma Jess's appeal mystifying, since everything about her is negative:

1. Signing up for Team Rocket suggests someone of a morally dubious character to start with, but the truth lies in the clothing, and she's in black!

Black!

It's code for her personality:

• Jessie wears white:

Pure, beautiful, innocent, sweet-natured, not really bad, dealt a severe hand in life but a fighter.

• Cassidy wears black:

EVIL!!! EVIL, EVIL, EEEEEEVUL!!! FOUL SIRENIC TEMPTRESS!!! EVIL HEARTLESS BITCH STEALING JAMES'S NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN WEEPINBELL!!!

Speaking of which:

2. She was Madame Boss's best agent.

You don't get there being kind.

To reach that standing requires hundreds of successful heists, and we aren't talking nicking gold bars. It's living things.

How many Pokémon do you imagine she stole with merciless efficiency?

How many children did she set upon, pinching every animal they had?

How many innocent lives did she ruin by depriving kids of the pets they loved, never to see them again, eaten away with the not-knowing and the false hope?

The glory of her reign ran on the fuel of blood and tears.

What fate do you envision awaited those Pokémon? It's not exchanging one master for another, it's entering slavery.

Jessie and James aren't the epitome of Team Rocket. They are minnows on the outskirts, despised and mocked by most of their fellow members. The actual group isn't particularly famous for prioritizing Pokémon welfare.

The preferable outcome is being handed out to agents to help catch other victims. Otherwise it's transformation into a war machine, forced to fight on and on to the point of exhaustion and death, no doubt tortured and tested on to boot.

What happens if they don't come up to scratch or are pushed for years until too aged and broken to be of any use? Are Team Rocket ready to pension them off to animal sanctuary?

As if. It's euthanasia or on to the streets to waste away, if not fed to the strongest first.

Ma Jess knew this and worse occurred thanks to her, yet paid it no mind, and felt not a single twinge of guilt in that time of service, then met her end trying to draw another Pokémon into imprisonment.

Some might say it was a case of what goes around, comes around. As her behaviour led to God knows how many Pokémon dying alone, leaving their loved ones to wonder and grieve, so in turn did she die alone in the snow, and Jessie had to carry on without her.

I'm not against Ma Jess, I neither feel like or dislike, but I don't understand how so many fans can happily overlook her murky past of inflicting pain, instead elevating her to a semi-divine tragic heroine, yet apparently Ma and Pa's heinous offences of not stealing and treating Pokémon well are beyond forgiveness.

3. It's the Red Ribbon Army! Save yourselves!

Jessie joined Team Rocket to follow in Ma's footsteps. James went with her. Both moved (upwardly in scale, downwardly in morals) from Sunny Town's gang of petty thief kids to a complex Mafia organisation stretching its wriggling tentacles around the world to crush the air from its lungs.

Why? Ma Jess's baleful influence led the two down that path.

Of course Jessie wants to copy Ma, how and where else can she feel close to her?

There's not even a grave to visit!

Rising in the ranks and Giovanni's favour is both to strike it rich and take her place, becoming Ma in essence. That would make her proud, which is all Jessie ever wanted.

What alternative is there? Stay with Chopper and Tyra forever, ekeing an existence pickpocketing and shoplifting, until mortality comes calling sooner than is welcome, or get loaded quickly and retire early?

James theoretically could've gone home at this point, but when it came to which angry redhead he preferred to beat him up, he chose Jessie.

He was henceforth obliged to go whenever she led, even if it meant following the ghost of her mother into the jaws of evil.

They have an excuse, but what was Ma's for getting involved?

However much they boast and revel in their wickedness, the motto proves the couple still believe themselves on a noble quest, despite everything to the contrary, and why?

Jessie isn't about to accept that Ma Jess, whom she's probably idolized as one of few people to love her and a role model of how a woman should be, was nasty or unpleasant. If she was in Team Rocket, it must be good, whatever the outer appearance.

Except Jessie and James are bad at being bad. They are not master criminals. All their plans fail, rendering them poor and starving in consequence. The inner circle of Team Rocket will always be barred to them because they lack the inner darkness it requires.

The joke is they flourish in any other occupation, whether that be Salon Rocquet, reporters, or flogging merchandise and food at the League. If employed elsewhere they'd be better off, but they have to stay because Jessie can't let go, or bear the thought she might be a disappointment to her mother's name. A different career looks unworthy by comparison.

What, so Ma and Pa have got no son because of Ma Jess? They just wanted him to be a gentleman!

If she hadn't set such a terrible example to her daughter she might have an increased quality of life, but then had she done so Ma wouldn't be dead in the first place.

4. Can't pick 'em can she?

What was it that first attracted Ma to Windy Miller? Does she go for the rustic charm, or the promise of a lifetime's supply of bread to feed the abundance of babies planned?

Don't do it, Ma! He's an alky!

Some birds are like that you see. It's the maternal instinct gone haywire. They find a local reprobate and somehow decide he's really a damaged soul crying out for love, the scapegoat of a cruel society.

He's not evil, he's just misunderstood!

This is why you get nutters wanting to marry the Yorkshire Ripper: they put his 'mischief' down to bad women mistreating his gentle heart, but they of course are devoted to his happiness. They can change him.

You don't know him like I do!

In their fantasy, under the influence of a 'proper' woman he'll transform in to a flower-picking hippie, but not too much, they still like him to be dangerously 'manly' (keeps 'em on their toes), then they can feel smugly superior and more truly female than the 'lesser' breed who failed to tame his sexy pashuns.

And if there's one thing Windy has in abundance, it's raw animal magnetism.

Stop it, Ma! You can't help those who don't want helping!

She put up with the boozing, the flour dust and his somewhat limited communication skills, but what really let him down was the company he kept.

Ever after she would insist Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub led him astray. That's firemen for yer.

Cuthbert? That name's died out.

Sure enough, some point after Ma Jess was stuffed up the spout, old Windy legged it back to Camberwick Green, like the rascal he is, and not a sweet penny piece did she receive in maintenance, the bastard.

At least Ma James got pregnant by a man who stood by her.

She wasn't married to Windy Miller!

Oh, you mean they were living over the brush? I see.

It's all in your head!

Do it my way, and we have Pa Jess. Do it yours, and we're back to a cavernous emptiness. Unless you can supply a picture of the 'real' (pffft) Pa Jess, this is the best available.

Anyway, 'Jessie Miller' just sounds right.

Coincidence? I think not.

5. She went to look for Mew dressed like this.

I could forgive it had she gone in her normal uniform, that's just whimsy, but to have made some effort emphasises that it's not enough!

Some part of her understood a mountain might be a bit parky out, but this was deemed sufficient coverage!

What happened?

She bloody died didn't she?!

6. Ma Boss points the way to doom.

Ma Jess was at least loyal to the mistress she served, but it was a wasted dedication. She squandered her life obeying a heartless virago who could cast aside apparently valued staff without a qualm, whatever thanks she owed them.

The millions Ma Jess accumulated for Madame are probably uncountable, yet she was so worthless that, when dispatched to the mountain, on her own, expected to catch a Legendary Pokémon, by herself, which many doubted even existed, and wasn't likely to come quietly, or put up with orders, but then didn't come back, Madame Boss allowed her only child to sink into poverty and the infamous 'care' of the State.

Everyone knows what goes on there. Entering a home has replaced the workhouse as the place of dread.

Jessie might have been killed or attacked and it didn't remotely concern Madame Boss, unwilling to spare a meagre fraction of her massive fortune to give the girl she made an orphan any comfort or security.

What did she matter? Her mother failed. Why reward that?

In her turn, Jessie became just as obsequious to an undeserving master, who went further than his mama and actively tried to murder her, and still she suffers to please him.

Team Rocket devoured her mother, and now it's swallowed her.

Oh, and Madame Boss got her way upon discovering Mew's fossil, so Ma Jess died for nothing.

7. This.

I'm not surprised Mew wouldn't go with Ma. She probably sensed the vivisection awaiting, and didn't give a toss about the avalanche in revenge.

Mew hasn't got where she is today falling for any old shallow promises from a stranger, thank you.

Suppose the mission had worked, with Mew caught and gift wrapped for Madame's delectation: what then?

Perhaps Mew's power, proving so impressive, would've pushed any cloning scheme aside, leaving Mewtwo unborn and Mew as the mightiest weapon. Or in greed Madame Boss demands more, and in arrogance the scientists promise the earth, the seas and the heavens.

Mew I could see subjected to some non-lethal form of dissection, just to understand how she ticked, that is if they could build the cage to hold her.

As they couldn't, and catching Mew was never a possibility, then Ma Jess's sacrificed herself on a fool's errand, which was obviously one from the outset. If Mew was easy to handle she'd have been captured long before now.

Either Ma dies, Mew's safe, but Madame Boss starts the cloning scheme anyway, or Ma's victorious, Mew is a tool of Team Rocket and the scientists have more sample to experiment upon. Mewtwo is still made, alongside short-lived creations and dozens of unseen freakish abominations preceding.

Now Mewtwo isn't what you call at peace with himself, nor has he received a particularly wholesome experience. One could think Ma indirectly caused that. Her branch of the project may have fizzled to cinders but she still played her role.

What would her legacy have been but to help bring forth the being that wiped out mankind? Where's the future for Jessie when there isn't one?

It's not her fault, but she died in the name of cloning a biological disaster, the creation of synthetic life leading to the destruction of it all.

8. Let's have a gander at Ma in the anime:

• Can afford rent.

• Can afford a tray.

• Can afford crockery.

• Can afford condiments to add flavour to food.

• Can't afford any actual food.

Something's wrong there.

I intended to include affording clothes too, but now I'm not so sure.

I never took Ma to be a brown-all-over kind of woman. At least she gave the fancy stuff to Jessie.

For years I've assumed she wore a brightly coloured jacket, but now I suspect it's a red one heavily patched up, because buying a replacement isn't an option.

Really old clothes are being mended with whatever can be salvaged from even more worn-out clobber.

Best agent Madame Boss has and she's practically living in her own filth.

Team Rocket takes care of its own, eh?

Oh no, let's not get a proper job, one that allows me to provide for my daughter and doesn't ask for my life. Let's stay in this one!

9. Look at Jessie's face!

By her own admission, being tricked into eating snow is the best thing that ever happened to her during an 'otherwise wretched childhood', to the extent she doesn't know it was wrong!

I don't hear Ma and Pa doing that. The only ice James got was an ice-cream sandwich.

What kind of infancy did Ma Jess give the girl for her to be nostalgic about almost dying of malnutrition?

If we say that's a foster mother as in the sub, it means Jessie's fondest memory is after Ma died, which is too brutal for me.

Yeah, thank goodness she's snuffed it.

You think Ma might have taught her not to eat snow! She left her so ill-prepared!

Consequently the sub version makes Ma Jess an awful creature, although I don't see why that Jessie would so desire to mimic a mom she apparently doesn't care about.

10. She's not even bloody here!

I have no picture to signify absence, therefore I must show whom she left behind.

Ma Jess is Pokémon's answer to Bobba Fett: background figure, barely involved, no information, dies early, yet became a fan favourite nevertheless.

If nothing really exists, what is there to like? Why are you contented weaving smoke?

When Rocketshippers put forward the manga as proof, the Anti-Ships used to insist that it 'didn't count' for being set in a 'separate universe'.

If that still goes, and only the contents of the anime apply to the anime, well then it's bye-bye to Ma Jess and Madame Boss, because they aren't real either.

I sometimes think that's true. However traumatic, would Jessie not have acknowledged her mother by now otherwise?

We grasp the characters all had two parents in a nebulous fashion, although not being real people means they don't 'technically' need them, but Ma Jess is the only one who vanished to be granted a face. Why is she then ignored?

She's briefly glimpsed in a passing scene of a single episode of the first series and is never seen or referenced again. The sub doesn't even have that. Where was the use in creating her if only to leave that thread of the tale billowing in the breeze?

We may decide her actions affect Jessie's but we're only imprinting assumptions. She might as well have remained unwritten for all that's made of her.

What we can glean doesn't bode well, irrespective of things left unmentioned.

Her one redeeming deed was dying, thus at least she didn't choose to abandon Jessie. We may presume she'd have stayed with her girl given the chance.

By my reckoning that puts her as Fifth-Best Mother Of Pokémon, behind Ma Brock, Ma James, Dame Ketchum and Ma Boss, in that order.

Then they're those who claim she never died, so she just pissed off like everyone else, rendering her devoid of a single positive quality.

This is the woman you sigh and agonise over for decades.

Ma and Pa are right there, man! Show 'em some love!

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Flames of yesterday: Chapter 6

Summary: 5 years ago they made a mistake. They were two broken men drinking away their love life issues, and one girl trying to help a friend. What the night leaves them with are two broken hearts and one nearly broken friendship. 5 years later, two are still broken and another one fixed. But what happens when they all meet again? Will it open old wounds and bring all the their insecurities rushing back?  Or will it mend the two hearts still looking for warmth, unable to find it after their parting?

Words: 3305

Authors notes: A crossover of Open Heart and the Elementalists, a collaboration series by @drakewalkerfantasy and @fluffy-marshmallow-heart

Ethan x OH MC (Diana)

Beckett x TE MC (Oriana)

**Warnings: medical emergency, attempted assault, violence**

It was already thirty minutes into the game and Ethan and Diana were still making the meaningless conversions and mingling among a crowd of a well-dresses business types. While speaking with a middle-aged woman and listening to her carefully, Diana was attempting to ignore what was happening on the field. After a while she felt a light tap on her shoulder, making her turn her head slightly and smiling, when she saw Ethan holding two glasses full of wine.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he spoke to the woman holding glass of wine to Diana. “But I want to have a couple of words with Dr. Haynes.”

“Ethan, can you give poor girl a break. Let her enjoy the game and don’t bore her with the work stuff you so enjoy”

“Marta, have I ever…” he smiles broadly, but with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I will be fine,” Diana assured Marta before leaving her to enjoy the game.

Moving to the side, she took a glass from Ethan’s hands, their fingers brushing and their eyes meeting. “Funny she thinks you’re going to bore me with work…has she ever listened to herself?” Diana murmured, only loud enough for Ethan to hear her.

A small chuckle escaped Ethan’s lips, and a hesitant smile played on Diana’s lips before taking a small sip of the sweet ruby nectar. Ethan raises his glass in a toast, his eyes glued to Diana’s lips, following the tip of her tongue as it ran along her lower lip, with his eyes dark as midnight. For a moment they stood in front of a big glass window in silence watching the game, neither of them daring to speak. Both too afraid that their voices will betray them, too afraid to give away their feelings. Ethan knew too well that he shouldn’t be standing so close to this incredible young woman, so close that he could smell the faint scent of ocean breeze. So close that he could see the swirls of glittering night black and tinges of silver blue at the edges of her eyes when their gazes met. So close that when she moved he could feel it with every cell in his body, making it buzz with excitement. He cursed lightly under his breath. Trying to remember all the reasons why they shouldn’t be standing so dangerously close but forgetting all of them every time their eyes met, taking his breath away.

“Ethan! Ethan, there you are!” the cheerful voice shouts from across the room breaking them from the haze they were in and returning them to the present. Their eyes land on the boisterous man approaching them with his business partner from the other side of the room.

“That’s them. The Banner Health reps. Are you ready?” he asks in a low voice, his lips pressed into a thin line before spreading them into a forced smile.

Diana was beginning to realize that it was extremely rare for him to smile genuinely, for a smile to actually reach his eyes. She was starting to wonder if anyone other than herself had ever seen it.

“As ready as I can be. But you need to work more on your poker face,” she mumbled to him, putting a bright smile on her face.

Rolling his eyes Ethan smirked at her, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What do you want from me? I’m a doctor, not an actor!” When the reps arrived to them, he shook their hands in greeting nodding to them politely.

“Dr. Ramsey, we’re so pleased you could join us today. As I said to Chief Emery during our call, we at Banner Health are big fans of your research,” spoke a well-dressed woman, casting a flirtatious look at him.

“A lot of monetization opportunities there, as I’m sure you know…” the boisterous man added, throwing a knowing look to Ethan. Diana could feel how his whole body tensed next to her, and she could swear she could hear how he gritted his teeth. She discreetly reached for his hand behind his back interlacing their fingers, feeling how he started to relax under her touch.

“Ah… yes,” Ethan replied, squeezing gratefully Diana’s fingers, “By the way, allow me to introduce you to Dr. Diana Haynes. She is one of our most promising young doctors. Graduated as the top of her class and has already proved herself an asset in the hospital.”

Gently removing her hand from Ethan’s with a last brush of their fingers Diana shook their extended hands with a wide smile, perfectly playing her role.

“Dr. Ramsey has already talked me through the main points of our contract renewal. And we are looking forward to discussing the terms to straighten the bond Edenbrook has built with Banner already.” Diana chimed cheerfully taking a lead in conversation.

Ethan’s eyes watched her with awe, impressed how easily she jumped straight into negotiation, pointing out all important aspects of the contract. She guided them to the big sofa in front of the large window suggesting moving their conversation there. Taking a seat near to Ethan, while still continuing the discussion. After a moment, he could feel how Diana’s fingers found his under the table intertwining them not missing a beat of conversation. While he… he could only nod in agreement with something she said, feeling how his breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat. After another hour of negotiation, talking numbers and main points of the renewal they were finally promised that legal would draw up the paperwork.

Ethan glanced over to Diana, still holding her hand discretely under the table. His thumb brushing over her knuckles making her glance down on their intertwined fingers, blushing slightly before clearing her throat after a moment. Something about being with Ethan made her feel bold, strong.

“There is one more provision we want. As you just said we are 35% of your business in the cardiac services field. And it all will be lost if we walk away?” Diana started hesitantly, catching a glimpse of approval in Ethan’s eyes. Feeling more confident she continued. “We want better rates on the cardiac services.” Somehow without any need to ask him, she knew exactly what he wanted from this renewal, but he hesitated just for a moment longer than she did.

“Hm. You strike a hard bargain. But I suppose we can give you an extra three points in reimbursement.” The woman replied, her eyes fixed on Ethan extending her hand to him. Ethan shakes their hands, before they finally depart, leaving just the two of them on the sofa, their drinks on the table before them.

“Nice job squeezing them at the end.”

“We had to get something extra for our patients. It’s our responsibility. Isn’t it?” Diana said, their eyes meeting for a split second, before leaning back on the sofa turning to watch the game.

They sit together while falling into comfortable conversation, slowly sipping the wine and watching the game unfold as the sun sinks lower in the sky. When the game was close to the final stage, something caught Diana’s eyes and she moved closer to the window not realizing that Ethan was straight behind her as the same thing caught his attention.

“Uh, he doesn’t look so good,” Diana noted turning her head slightly toward Ethan, already starting to build hypotheses what diagnosis this guy may have. After a moment of observation, they both could see how the player wobbles, vomiting and collapsing on the mound.

“Let’s go,” spoke Ethan already rushing toward the elevator. “I heard that their physician quit on them before the game…” He started to explain, interrupted by Diana’s amused gasp.

“I thought you said you are not into the sport,” a teasing smile forming on her lips. “And for a guy who isn’t into it, you know a lot about their team.”

“I never said I wasn’t into sports,” noted Ethan pressing the button to the ground floor. “I said today I wasn’t into it. Dr. Haynes, you should pay more attention.”

“I…” she started, before the ding notified them that they have reached their goal.

“Here,” he pointed out to the pub’s backdoor before quickly heading to it, showing his ID card to the guard standing in front of it. With a nod the guard opened the door letting them on the field.

By the time they arrived, the player was already on a stretcher heading toward the locker room…with Beckett helping to hold it. Diana paused a brief second before following them into the team’s locker room.

After setting the player on a table, Diana noticed he was drenched with sweat.

“He has a pulse, but his breathing is shallow.” Beckett informed.

Diana and Ethan both nodded. As Ethan assisted in taking vitals, Diana head over to talk to the coach and another player. After several minutes she returned.

“The coach called 911 when we were still on the field, they’re sending a medi-vac. Should be here in a few minutes. Until then we need to figure out what’s wrong.”

Beckett removed his stethoscope from the player’s chest. “It sounds like fluid build-up. He could be in a lot of trouble if we don’t hurry.”

“Do you always carry around a stethoscope?” Ethan muttered.

“Yes. Don’t you?” Beckett asked haughtily, the tips of his ears red.

“Beckett’s always prepared for literally everything.” Diana added, avoiding her best friend’s gaze.

“Good trait in a doctor.” Ethan nodded.

Beckett rose an eyebrow at how quickly his demeanor changed by a simple sentence from Diana.

Diana continued. “The coach has been in talks with the minor leagues…he’s not cutting it in the majors. There’s negotiations to send him back. He’s been caught hyperventilating, he’s constantly tired, and clutches his back and ribs fairly often. Oh, and he’s not taking any medicine.”

“Hmm. So panic attacks, exhaustion, soreness, fluid in the lungs…” Ethan pondered.

“I’m not a diagnostician, but that sounds like a lot to be contributed to one thing.” Beckett interrupted.

Both Ethan and Diana nodded at him.

“Oh my god…I think I’ve got it!” Diana exclaimed. “It’s a drug interaction!”

“But you just said he wasn’t prescribed anything.” Beckett said, confused.

“Sandburg was already worried about being cut from the team. If they knew he had a medical condition, they’d be even less likely to keep him around. If he already had an anxiety disorder, the high pressure situation was probably making it worse.”

“Like fluoxetine? It’s fairly easy to get a prescription for that…and then he started taking something for his pain.” Beckett agreed.

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows. “Based on his gender and age, it could’ve been something like ankylosing spondylitis, arthritis that affects the spine.”

“Which you treat with an NSAID, like Celecoxib, perhaps. One drug was slowing his metabolism of the other. Basically he was overdosing on what would normally be a safe dosage.” Diana finished excitedly, her face extremely close to Ethan’s as they smiled at each other.

Beckett looked between the two of them. “Uh…wouldn’t that cause irreparable damage to the kidneys?”

Diana’s face fell. “He needs to get to the hospital, now.”

“I hear the chopper, come on. Let’s carry him back out.” Ethan directed at Beckett, who nodded.

“I’ll clean up here.” Diana told them.

Left alone, Diana began to collect Beckett’s belongings that he took out from Oriana’s bag to examine Sandburg. She shook her head smirking, knowing how often Oriana complains about Beckett using her purse like it’s his own. She bought him his own bag once, which Beckett carries to and from work, but out in public he always makes Oriana carry the essentials. Deep in thought, she failed to notice that someone else had quietly entered the locker room and that she wasn’t alone anymore. That was until she felt a strong pair of hands of someone on her hips. Yelping in surprise she turned around, her eyes widening in distant recognition as she placed her hands on the man’s chest. She tried to push him away, backing up from him.

“Kitten, don’t you remember me?” the man smirked backing her further to the lockers. “If not for your friend’s interference we would have spent quite the enjoyable time together. I recognized you immediately as soon as I saw you. It’s hard to forget such a pretty face as yours,” he purred, reaching for her face to brush her cheek, making her shrink back as his eyes roamed over her, undressing her with them, cornering her further.

“Please, let me pass,” Diana said trying to come around him, but unsuccessfully. Panic raising in her chest. “I will scream, if you don’t…” she warned, not letting him to notice how terrified she got.

“Com’mon, kitten. Don’t make a scene,” he made another step toward her, hovering over, his hands on both sides of her. “We both know you want this, just like you did all those years ago.”

"Please, let me pass,” she breathed out, tears welling in her eyes.

“You want…” not managing to finish the sentence before someone’s hands were yanking him from Diana, turning him around.

“You heard her. Let her pass.”

“Who are you?”

"I think it’s none of your business. What should concern you is that she clearly doesn’t want your advances. I would suggest you move on,” Ethan’s voice was calm and cool as steel, echoing in the room. His eyes locked with Diana’s checking if she is alright. He could see that she was still trembling, clearly upset by what was happening there.

“Kitten…” the guy started, turning to face her, stepping back into her space and reaching for her, making Diana squeeze back into the locker.

In an instant, Ethan yanked him back again, his eyes throwing lightning. He could see the man’s eyes clouded with rage as his fist flew toward him ready for the punch, but Ethan dodged easily throwing his own straight to the guy’s jaw, sending him to the ground with one strong precise punch.

Ethan breathed heavily, meeting Diana’s silver moon eyes. The thoughts buzzing inside him practically making him sick and terrified.

What would have happened if I hadn’t come back to the locker room wondering why it was taking her so long to join us back on the field with the helicopter? What would have happened if my feelings for her weren’t stronger than I already thought they are? What would have happened if I had just waited for her boyfriend and her friend instead of rushing in on impulse?

They locked their eyes for a split second before some invisible force pulled them toward each other. Ethan could feel how Diana fell against him, shaking with sobs, her face hidden in his chest. His hands securely wrapped around her bringing her closer, holding on to her as if for dear life. His heart was thundering inside his chest while his chin rested on the top of her head, inhaling deeply her scent of ocean. His hands were involuntarily rubbing her back soothing her, letting her to cry. He let himself forget for a moment that she wasn’t his. Forget that she was someone else’s. She lifted her head to meet his stormy eyes with emotions he won’t dare let himself dream of. His hand instinctively reached out to brush the glimmering drops of tears, lingering gently on her cheek…until they were pulled brusquely from the moment by the sound of the door bursting open, and familiar voices calling for Diana. Ethan quickly stepped back as Beckett and Diana’s friend came rushing in.

“Oh my god, Di! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Beckett whirled on Ethan. “YOU!!”

“No.” The other girl placed her hand on his arm. “Look.” They all looked down at the man struggling to stand back up from the floor.

Beckett’s jaw dropped. “Is that…?”

“David. It’s been a long time.” Oriana addressed him icily.

“You know him?” Ethan asked incredulously.

“He’s my ex.”

“Go get security.” Beckett said quietly.

“Are you sure…”

“We got this. Go.” The girl told him.

Ethan looked back at Diana, who gave him a small nod. He smiled sadly at her before marching out of the room. I guess her knight in shining armor finally arrived.

David rubbed his already swollen jaw, smirking up at Oriana. “My, my. You’re looking delicious as ever, Oriana.” His eyes travelled to her ring finger, then to Beckett. “Seriously? You married the nerd?”

Oriana smiled wickedly. “I did. Best decision of my life. Other than dumping you, that is.”

“This is the second time you have tried to force yourself on my friend.” Beckett’s hands curled into fists.

“Ha! I don’t need to force myself on anyone. Women line up around the block to have time with me.” David snarled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember being one. And Diana, considering she’s practically inside a locker right now, is most definitely not one.” Oriana replied, her tone laced with disdain. “You are disgusting.”

“Maybe if you had just put out every once in awhile I wouldn’t…Auuuugggghhhh!!!” Oriana punched him hard right in the gut, and as he stumbled back she kicked him right in the balls, sending him sprawling back on the floor.

“The punch was for me. The kick was for her.” She turned to Diana. “Or it could be the other way around? It doesn’t really matter, all that matters is your ass stays down, David.”

David grunted in response, cupping his lower region while groaning in pain.

Beckett pulled Oriana flush against him, kissing her fiercely. “God, I love you.”

“Thank you.” Diana said shakily. “Ori, damn girl, you can do some damage.”

“Fucking asshole.” Oriana muttered, glaring at her ex, who was still cupping himself grimacing, a slew of profanities streaming from his mouth.

“Di…” Beckett started, letting go of Oriana and turning back to his friend.

Despite her best efforts, Diana felt more tears on her cheeks. “Shut up, Beckett.” She rushed forward, letting him wrap her in his arms. “And Ori…” She threw her arm out, yanking Oriana into the hug. “I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too.” Beckett whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Di.” Oriana cried too and Beckett felt himself tearing up as well. “I completely overreacted and made really stupid assumptions, I know there’s nothing between you…”

“I’m sorry I ever gave you doubts.” Diana sniffled. “I didn’t even think….”

“No, no, it’s me and my stupid hormones.”

“It was all of us okay?” Beckett cut in, kissing the top of both their heads.

Diana rolled her eyes. “You overreacted the most. Honestly, Beckett, what gives with you and Ethan?”

“I don’t trust him…” Beckett began, but suddenly security was there, picking up David from the floor, the three friends not even seeing Ethan bowing quietly back out of the room, the only thing he heard being Beckett still didn’t trust him.

As everyone exited the locker room, Diana looked around for Ethan…but he was gone. She sighed warily. “He saved me, you know.”

Beckett looked at her questioningly.

“He yanked David off me, and even punched him, that’s why he was on the ground when you got there. He protected me! Defended me!”

Beckett ran his hand through his hair. “I…suppose a word of thanks is in order.”

“That’s it?” Diana asked angrily. “He literally kept a predator off of me, and you only suppose he deserves some thanks??”

Oriana looked between the two of them, sensing the growing tension. “Okay, that is enough, both of you. Di, can you come over right now? This all needs to stop. We should all probably air things out.”

Beckett and Diana both looked at her in surprise.

“Calmly.”Oriana finished.

“Sure.” Diana sighed. “I’ll get my car and meet you there.”

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[ralphyraprap]

My personal rating of the 2019/2020 Celtics roster

Just an opinion that I have going into the 2019-2020 season. Obviously plenty of roster changes with the Boston Celtics coming of the back of a very disappointing 2019 off-season. With pre-season games and subsequently the regular games on the horizon, I just want to quickly share my personal assessment of the current Celtics roster and would like to hear everyone's opinion.

Rankings that I will be using:

- Reserve - not expected to get consistent minutes or will get playing times during irrelevant junctures of the game (ie blowouts/closed-out games, etc)

- Good - expected to play consistent minutes and plays a role at a somewhat reliable capacity

- Very good - plays their role in the team very well and is considered a staple in the rotation

- Fringe all-star - a player who only requires a few tweaks in their game to make it to a future all-star game

- All-star - expected to play in the all-star game or is at least an all-star caliber player

- Star - often the go-to person in the roster and carries the team

- Superstar - likely to have his jersey retired in the future

Kemba Walker: All-star/Star

Kemba has big shoes to fill following Kyrie Irving's departure. Coming off his best season with Charlotte, he has been tasked to lead the Celtics this season. General consensus is that he is not as skilled as his predecessor but has a much better lockeroom presence and leadership. At the very least, I expect him to be an all-star caliber level and will excel under Brad Steven's leadership; being that he historically creates a system that is conducive to point guards. The only two reservations that I have on Kemba are these: 1) He has never had this much expectation in the NBA being that Charlotte was never considered any threat during his tenure and 2) He is a defensive liability. The latter is less of an issue mainly due to Brad Steven's success with Isaiah Thomas in the past. With a better coach and team around him, Kemba can further elevate his game and become a star for the Boston Celtics.

Jayson Tatum: Fringe all-star/All-star

Jayson Tatum is coming off the back of a somewhat disappointing sophomore season. His rookie year was absolutely phenomenal, stepping up when both Kyrie and Gordon Hayward went down during the 2017/2018 season and ultimately showing tremendous upside during the 2018 playoffs. He was expected to make a huge step during last season however had a somewhat subpar season (by his lofty standards) but still looked alright in his sophomore year. With Kyrie being replaced by a seemingly better leader in Kemba, Tatum might finally reach the levels that he is supposed to be on since last season. More inclined to think that he is a fringe all-star but could potentially sneak through as an all-star being that he is the clear second option in the team and might be in some stretches be the number one option.

Gordon Hayward: Fringe all-star/All-star

A redemption year for Gordon Hayward. He is now a full season away from that dreadful injury that he sustained at the very first game of the 2017/2018 season. Showed promising signs in some stretches of the 2018/2019 season, especially at the latter stages but also played poorly in some stretches. Was ultimately disappointing in the 2019 playoffs. Another issue from last year was that there were reports that his inclusion to the playing group rubbed some of the players the wrong way, thus creating some chemistry issues. I expect that this is the season for him to show that he can be the pre-injury Gordon Hayward and finally be the player that the Celtics hoped him to be.

Jaylen Brown: Very good/Fringe all-star

A contract year for Jaylen with reports surfacing that he is seeking a max extension. Along with Jayson Tatum, he showed plenty of promise in the 2017/2018 season and the 2018 playoffs but also took a step back last season. Since being drafted as the third overall pick, Jaylen haven't really shown much reason to be given max dollars albeit he showed extreme promise 2 seasons ago as mentioned earlier. A very athletic player and potentially the Celtics' second-best defender, I predict that Jaylen will take another step up this year especially it being a contract year for him.

Marcus Smart: Very good

Oddly enough is now the veteran in the lockeroom. Unless I am mistaken, he has been with Celtics longer than anyone in the playing group. Night-in night-out you can expect one thing with Marcus: and that is his effort on the defensive end. His offense unfortunately has never been reliable nor do I expect it to make any significant improvement. Nevertheless, a very passionate player and clearly the best defender on the team.

Enes Kanter: Very good

Going to be very good on the offensive end (and pre/post-game trolling and memes) but defense has, and always will be, suspect. Played with a lot of heart with the Portland Trailblazers last playoffs with a separated shoulder yet still balling on the offensive end. Could potentially be a starter for the Celtics but I doubt he will close many games, mostly due to him being a defensive liability.

Daniel Theis: Good

I don't expect much from Daniel Theis this season. Did get his contract extended which tells me that Danny Ainge has faith in him; that or he just ran out of options. Showed better game during his first season with the Celtics prior to his injury but seemingly regressed on the following year. Still, not going to be an eye-catcher by any stretch of the imagination but will be great if he can be a good role player.

Semi Ojeleye: Good

Ojeleye has always been a handy player for the Celtics. Coming in on several stretches of the game and being involved in occasional good plays here and there. Game hasn't really changed all that much nor is his impact to the game. Might get more opportunity this season due to the recent departures in the roster but he hasn't shown much in the past to excite any fans.

Robert Williams III: Good/Reserve

The Time Lord will probably get better opportunity this season due to the recent departures in the roster. Showed some promise every once in a while but not enough to write home about. Was alright in the last Summer League but I was expecting a lot more. Will probably compete with Ojeleye and/or Theis for rotation. Offers good rim protection potential, assuming he can stay out of foul trouble.

Brad Wanamaker: Reserve

Has been a good contributor whenever he gets an opportunity but could not quite get consistent minutes due to the Celtics logjam in the guard position. Might get a better shot this season with Terry Rozier leaving but I expect him to get more-or-less similar minutes and role.

Romeo Langford: Good/Reserve

A mid first round pick rookie for the Celtics. Was recently injured and had surgery with his thumb which forced him to missed the Summer League. Recent footage and reports indicate that his thumb is 100% ready to go and his jump shot has improved. The surgically repaired thumb will be suspect and could potentially limit his game time.

Carsen Edwards: Very good/Good

In my opinion an excellent pick for the Celtics and will potentially be regarded as a steal. Showed plenty of promise during the Summer League with his lights-out shooting and effort. Quite poetic that he decided to wear number 4 being that like I.T, he gets buckets and is pretty undersized. I expect him to get plenty of minutes this season.

Grant Williams: Very good/Good

Another great pick for the Celtics and can potentially be regarded as a steal. Already showing great leadership and played very well during the Summer League. Can shoot the ball very well and shows effort on defense. Seems to be meshing with the team quite well and is very vocal. Could potentially be a Draymond Green-esque player for the Celtics, hopefully less annoying.

Vincent Poirier: Reserve

A first year player for the Celtics taken from the Euroleague. Played FIBA with the French team recently and obviously had some time to play with/learn from Rudy Gobert. A very tall athletic big man who appears to have a jump shot. It's a question now whether his skill translates well to the NBA and also if Brad Stevens will give him the opportunity to show it.

Tacko Fall: Reserve

The biggest draft pick by Boston Celtics ever (literally). Showed that he can be agile for his (tremendous) height. Might get a couple of minutes here and there but I imagine he will be used sparingly, much like how Boban Marjanovic is being utilised but probably a bit less than that.

Tremont Waters: Reserve

Another pick from the Celtics which played during the Summer League. Had a couple of good games in-spite suffering from a very tragic loss. Not expecting to get much game time with the Celtics at all.

Javonte Green: Reserve

A surprise pick for the Celtics. They picked him after the Summer League. Might not get much game time this season

[zoeygreensimblr]

Wonderland (Episode 53)

"Happy birthday Princess" Angus greeted me the morning of my 19th birthday. He was in the kitchen cooking me pancakes.

"Thank you baby" I say, sliding up next to him and wrapping my arms around him. Angus had taken the day off work to spend with me but he wouldn't let me know what he had planned, "Can I get just one clue of what we are doing today?" I ask him, watching the cheeky smile spread across his face

"We are going to get very dirty" He teases, winking at me, "Eat your breakfast, we've got a big day ahead of us" He places a plate with 3 pancakes in front of me and I drizzle maple syrup all over them and take my plate to the dinning table.

"Is Tess and Brian joining us?" I question him, usually Tess would wake me up on our birthday but I hadn't heard a peep out of her this morning.

"Brian took her out for breakfast but they are meeting up with us for lunch" He explains, sitting himself down at the table with his own stack of pancakes covered in strawberry jam.

"And where exactly will lunch be?" I ask, trying my best to squeeze any information out of him.

"Your breakfast is getting cold Princess" He tells me, ignoring my question while smiling to himself, he loves surprising me. "Pack your swimsuit though" He says and that's the only clue I'm given.

The first surprise on the birthday list is Newcrest Day Spa, a place known for it's luxurious mud baths, yoga, sauna and range of massages, we are greeted by a tall, thin, blonde woman with glowing skin who offers us cucumber water on arrival.

"Good morning Mr McKenzie and Miss Green, my name is Lola, we have you booked in for stone massages at 10am and a mud bath at 11, feel free to join a yoga class or unwind in the sauna, we also offer hand and feet massages."  Lola tells us, handing over plush white robes for us to change into, "Down the hall you will find change rooms with lockers, your locker is number 66, and here is your passcode to unlock it" Lola say, handing over a small piece of paper with a four digit code.

Angus and I make our way to the change room where we change out of our clothing and into our swimsuits, wrapping the robes around ourselves.

"How did you get a booking here? I've heard it's booked out months in advance" I ask, amazed.

"The owner is a client at the gym, I had her pull some strings and get us in" He tells me proudly, he knows he's done well, this is nothing like the day spa Tess and I go to for massages in Brindlton Bay.

We make our way upstairs to the massage suite, take off our robes and hand them on a rack then lay face down on the massage tables and wait. Two women enter the suite and introduce themselves as Chloe and Nicole.

"Happy birthday Zoey, ready for your stone massage?" Chloe asks me cheerfully.

"Yes please" I reply, smiling over at Angus.

My hot stone massage leaves me feeling very relaxed and refreshed.

"Please try our lemon, honey and ginger detox tea" Nicole offers us as we are putting our fluffy robes back on, "It helps elevate your body of toxins". We take a cup of tea each, it tastes sweet with a hint of citrus and ginger, drinking it on the way to the bathing room. The mud baths are already set up for us so we, once again remove our robes and climb into the baths.

"So this is what you meant when you said we'd be getting dirty?" I ask Angus, rubbing the green facial mask on my face and placing two slices of cucumber over my eyes, I relax into my bath.

"I did, I just didn't realise what I was getting myself into, I have mud going into every opening" He laughs.

"Thank you Angus, this has been a great surprise" I tell him.

"The day isn't over yet Zoey, you've still got to pick out your present" He says, dropping a clue.

"I have to pick out my own present?" I ask him, confused

"Shhh Zoey, it's relax time, all will be revealed soon" He tells me, laughing to himself.

We finish our mud baths and then take separate showers to clean ourselves off.

"Time for lunch my Birthday Princess" Angus tells me when we meet up in the change room. I'd been eating small meals lately to keep the morning sickness away but today I was craving a juicy cheeseburger.

Next door to the day spa there's a bowling alley and waiting out front is Tess and Brian.

"Happy Birthday Teresa" I exclaim, wrapping my sister in a tight hug.

"Happy Birthday Zo, have you had a good day so far?" Tess asks me and I smile brightly at her.

"Oh yeah, I had a massage and a mud bath, what about you?" I enquire.

"Brian took me out for breakfast with his parents and gave me this beautiful gold locket" Tess tells me excitedly, "What did Angus give you?" she asks me curiously.

"Zoey's gift is coming, I'm taking her to pick it out after we bowl" Angus tells Tess before I get a chance to open my mouth. Tess and I exchange looks but she doesn't say a word, I think she knows what my gift is but she's not going to spoil the surprise.

We enter the bowling alley and get assigned a lane. The lanes are all black with neon lighting up the sides that make the bowling balls glow when you bowl. Angus orders food for our group while Brian enters our names into the computer.

"Brian is a professional bowler, he's even on a team in the league" Tess boasts, she's so proud of her man.

"Meanwhile I may need to put the gutter rails up so my ball doesn't go in the gutter on each throw" I laugh, I always have fun when I bowl but I'm not the most co-ordinated bowler.

"Well since it is your birthday I think that can be arranged" Brian says as he hits the option on the computer.

Angus returns with our table number and a sparkling pink bowling ball.

"For you my Princess" He says, handing me the ball.

We played 3 games of bowling, with Brian winning 2 and Angus winning 1 and even though Tess and I didn't win we still had a blast playing. Angus had ordered cheeseburgers and fries for lunch, he knew I'd been craving it and that it would be a long time before I get to enjoy another cheeseburger again.

"Are you ready for your present now my sweet girl?" Angus asked me after lunch.

"It's been driving me crazy so yes, I'm more than ready" I laugh.

We say goodbye to Tess and Brian and head back towards Brindlton Bay.

"Are you having a good day so far Zoey?" Angus asks me, reaching over and taking my hand

"This has been the best birthday" I tell him, trying to watch where we are driving so I can understand what my present may be, Brindleton Bay isn't really a shopping district, it's just a small town by the water.

"Your parents have something planned for You and Tess later this afternoon and they want to do dinner at the restaurant tonight" He informs me, I knew we would be having a meal at the restaurant at some stage today, it's a birthday tradition.

Angus pulls the car up outside of the Brindleton Bay Animal Shelter and my eyes go wide, now I understand what he meant by me picking my present.

"I'm getting a puppy?" I ask him with absolute joy.

"A puppy or an adult dog, it's up to you, the dogs that are brought here have been mistreated and are looking for a loving home and you've got so much love to give Zoey" Angus says to me, smiling brightly.

We walk into the animal shelter and are greeted by Max, the vet who runs the animal shelter.

"You must be Zoey, happy birthday" Max says, holding out a hand for me to shake, he then leads us through a door where there's about 12 dogs, all separated into pens, some with others, some alone, most of them playing, all except one, a Maltese terrier sitting alone in her pen, she comes up to the side of the pen when she sees us approach and rolls onto her back.

"This is Lily, she was brought in about a week ago, she's very shy and quiet but she loves having her belly rubbed" Max explains, I reach my hand down and rub her tummy as she wiggles around, I notice that she's very under weight for an adult dog though.

"Was she neglected?" I ask Max and he nods his head.

"Unfortunately yes, she's started putting on a bit of weight in the week that we've had her, we've been feeding her small meals of dry and wet food, she wouldn't eat at first but now she can't get enough of it" Max tells us. I look at Angus, he's smiling back at me because he knows that Lily is the one for us.

"We will have to get some dog food and a bed for her to sleep on and a leash so I can walk her every day" I say to Angus, making a list of everything we need for Lily, he crouches down beside me and pats Lily.

"It's all been taken care of Princess, why do you think I got you out of the house so early?" He says, laughing.

We finalise the adoption of Lily and Max places her into a carry cage to take in the car.

"I'd like to make a donation to the shelter as well" Angus tells Max, pulling a cheque from his wallet and handing it over.

"Thank you very much for this, we are a non-for profit organisation and do rely on donations from the community to keep us going, I appreciate your generosity Mr McKenzie" Max says to Angus, shaking his hand.

"Zoey is going to be a vet one day herself and she loves animals so we are happy to help out" Angus says to Max.

As we are driving home from the animal shelter, I can't help but overthink what Angus said to Max about me becoming a vet.

"Do you still believe I can go to Uni this year?" I question him, I honestly thought it was off the cards for me since I found out I was expecting.

"Zoey, becoming a vet is your dream job and I'm going to help you achieve that" He tells me, smiling brightly at me.

"But how? You're going to be doing year 12 yourself this year so you can get into Uni too" I stress.

"Well I've been thinking about that too, I thought I wanted to get a degree but I'm kinda happy where I am in life, I'm training Tess up on how to do all the book work and scheduling and I love being a personal trainer." He says to me, he's willing to sacrifice his own dreams to help me achieve mine but I feel a strong pang of guilt, I don't want him to lose out.

Angus pulls into our driveway and I notice there's a shiny, red car parked out the front of our house, I don't recognise the car as belonging to anyone I know.

"Do we have visitors?" I ask Angus.

"Not that I know of" He replies with a smile spreading across his face, "Why do you ask?"

"The red car, parked out on the curb in front of our house" I tell him as if he didn't see it there too.

"Oh that car, that's yours" He informs me, fishing a key out of his pocket and handing it over to me but I can't accept it.

"No, Angus, this is too much, you can't buy me a car for my birthday" I exclaim but he just laughs, takes my hand and places the key in it.

"Zoey you needed a car and it's nothing too flashy, just a little Honda that will be easy for you to drive, plus you may have appointments for the baby when I'm not home and it will give me peace of mind to know you're safe and not on the murder train" He explains. I lean over and kiss him.

"Thank you baby, I love you so much" I say to him.

Walking into our house is like walking into a puppy wonderland, there's a new dog bed and chew toys, a giant ball, feeding bowl, leash and a dog collar. I place Lily's travel cage on the ground and she slowly steps out, wary of her new surroundings.

"Tess come meet Lily" I call out to my sister who pokes her head out from her room.

"Who is Lily?" She asks me and then she lays eyes on our new housemate and she comes running out from her room and sits on the floor where Lily is, Lily rolls onto her back and Tess knows to rub her belly.

"This is Lily, she's 2 years old, she's a bit shy but loves belly rubs" I tell Tess.

"She's adorable" Tess says as she plays with our new dog, I join them on the floor to play, grabbing the ball and rolling it to Lily who gets it and then takes it to Tess who then rolls it back to Lily who brings it to me.

"She loves to play" Angus remarks as he watches Lily run around between Tess and I. Lily is going to be very loved in our house.

While we were out my Mother had delivered dresses for Tess and I to wear that night, every year on our birthday she buys us a matching outfit but in different colours, this year our outfit was a long, sparkling dress, Tess' was blue and mine was magenta, the dresses were gorgeous but when it came time to putting them on I struggled to zip mine up.

"I've put on weight, I feel so fat" I complained to Angus, giving up and throwing myself down on the bed.

"You're not fat Zoey, you're pregnant, this is all normal" He reassures me, holding out his hands to pull me back off the bed, once on my feet he helps zip up my dress and he manages to get it zipped all the way, "You look beautiful my Princess" He tells me as he kisses my neck softly.

"People will start to notice soon" I fret, I can't keep this secret for much longer.

"Zoey, it's been a month, I think we're good for a little bit longer" He laughs as he takes my hand and spins me around and we dance together in our room.

We arrived at the restaurant just after 6, straight away I notice the 'closed' sign on the door so I knew this wasn't going to be just the usual family birthday dinner. Mum greets us at the door.

"Happy Birthday my beautiful baby girls" She cries as she hugs Tess and I, "And why didn't you tell me Zoey?" She asks me, I feel my heart jump up into my throat.

"Tell you what Mum?" I ask nervously, surely she didn't figure it out already.

"That you got into Brichester, I'm so proud of you" She exclaims excitedly, I had been so sweep up in all the baby drama that I had forgot to even check my results, Mum hands over the acceptance letter she had stashed on the hostess stand.

"I actually forgot to check online" I confess and my Mother just laughs

"Well luckily they send an actual letter of acceptance out and you were granted a full scholarship too" My Mother says, she cant wipe the smile from her face.

"Congratulations Zoey" Tess screams as she throws her arms around me.

"Did you get into Brichester too?" I ask Tess, she hadn't mentioned anything about her results or Uni

"I didn't apply, I decided that Uni wasn't for Me and that I'm going to do some art classes locally while I also run the gym this year" Tess tells me and I'm so happy for her, it took her a long time to figure out what her passion in life was but she was always so good at art and design, "And I got an offer to paint a mural on that giant blank wall in the city, the council saw what I painted at the gym and wants to see more of my art"

"I'm so proud of you too Teresa" My Mother says to my sister, wrapping her in a big hug, "My creative and artistic baby"

Inside the restaurant all our friends are waiting, there's a table at the back full of presents and the dinning area is decorated with balloons and streamers.

"Happy Birthday girls" Cassie says to Tess and I, handing us a glass of champagne each, I look at Tess, knowing I cant drink mine but not wanting to be questioned why.

"Thanks Cass, I'll take Zoey's though because she's driving tonight" Tess says, taking both glasses from Cassie.

"You're driving on your birthday, that seems unfair" Cassie pouts

"I got a new car and wanted to drive" I explain, only half lying. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, luckily I see our food is be brought, "I'm starving, let's eat"

"Don has been preparing this for you all afternoon" Mum says as she places our food in front of us, an appetiser of savoury bacon love petals followed by our main course, sizzled brisket over sour clover salad, I knew Don had been trying out some new, experimental foods to add to his menu, just to keep things fresh and this was delicious, so full of flavour. After dinner Don came out of the kitchen with chocolate sponge cake with blue icing, topped with a "19" candle. When we were kids, Tess would blow out the candles first because she was born 20 minutes before me but as we got older we started blowing them out together, so our wishes would be sent out at the same time.

"Ready Zo?" Tess asks me after everyone has sang Happy Birthday to us

"Yep" I confirm, and together we blow out our candle as our friends and family cheer.

"Happy Birthday my baby girls, nineteen years around the sun and both so beautiful and smart" Our Mother gushes over us, wrapping her arms around both Tess and I.

"We couldn't have gotten this far without you Mum, or Don" I tell her, kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you girls, I love you both very much" Don says to Tess and I, handing us a knife so we can cut the cake and share the pieces out.

"Did you make a wish" Angus whispers to me as I hand him a piece of cake.

"I did" I tell him, placing my hand on my stomach, "And in 8 months time we will see if it comes true"

[wrestlingisfake]

All Out preview

Chris Jericho vs. Hangman Page - This match is to determine the first AEW men’s world champion.  Page qualified for this match by winning a 21-man battle royale at Double or Nothing on May 25; Jericho qualified by defeating Kenny Omega later in the same show.  Jericho has held six world heavyweight titles; this would be his first outside of WWE.  Page has never held a singles championship of any kind in a major-league promotion, although he’s been talking about being the first to hold this title since the original AEW press conference in January.

AEW is trying to position this as a true main event, mainly on the strength of the title and Jericho, even though the ladder match and (at one point) Omega-Moxley were clearly bigger draws.  I expect that this match will go on last just to establish the primacy of the world championship.  That’s a lot of pressure on Page, who was barely even a midcarder 18 months ago.  Of all the talent getting pushes to elevate them to the Kenny Omega’s star power, he’s the one with a rocket strapped to his back.  There’s a sense that this match is his Rocky moment, and he’s carried that idea well in interviews.

Jericho has handled the story convincingly, pushing the notion that Page is ready for this level of competition, while still asserting that he’s the favorite going into the match.  Page is great...but he won’t be good enough on this particular night.  Jericho has also stressed that he needs to beat Page, because a loss would set up talk about him passing the torch in the twilight of his career, and he’s not willing to be treated like a used-to-be.  It’s an interesting approach for the 48-year-old Jericho, because the tipping point between “veteran superstar” and “old timer doing jobs on the way to retirement” is precarious.  It makes sense that he would fight tooth-and-nail to keep from going over that tipping point, and direct that fury towards his 28-year-old opponent.

Assuming this really will close the show, it needs to be a great match.  I don’t think it will be, or needs to be, the best match of the night.  But it needs to be great enough that we leave thinking they were right to put it on last, and that Page has what it takes to close the show.  More critically, we need to come away thinking AEW title matches are epic conflicts, so the promotion can credibly use the championships as box office attractions in their own right.

I would be fine with Page as champion, but I think the best move is to have him deliver a star-making performance and then suffer a heartbreaking loss to Jericho.  That’s not to say Page shouldn’t eventually win the title.  But Jericho has both the clout and the heel heat to sustain a very long chase from multiple contenders, which will make the first men’s world title change as important as the first men’s world title match.

Rey Fenix & Pentagon, Jr. vs. Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson - The Lucha Bros, Penta and Fenix, are defending the AAA tag team championship.  The Young Bucks, Matt and Nick, are defending an AEW undefeated streak.  This is a ladder match, so the title belts will be suspended above the ring; to reach them ladders will be provided at ringside for the wrestlers to climb.  The first person to retrieve the belts will win the match, and the championship, for his team.  Since that’s the only way the match can end, there are effectively no count-outs, disqualifications, pinfalls, or submissions.

The feud between the Lucha Bros and the Young Bucks in February, when Penta and Fenix took exception to the Bucks claiming to be the best tag team and attacked them at their own press conference.  On March 16 the Lucha Bros headlined AAA’s Rey de Reyes and won the tag team title, but the Bucks showed up for an impromptu title match and took the belts back to AEW.   The Bucks successfully defended the title in a rematch at AEW’s Double or Nothing on May 25, but the Lucha Bros finally won it back at AAA’s Verano de Escandalo on June 16.  The Bucks teamed with Kenny Omega against the Lucha Bros and Laredo Kid at AEW Fyter Fest on June 29 and AAA Triplemania on August 3.  Penta and Fenix issued the challenge for this match at Fight for the Fallen on July 13.

Fenix suffered some sort of leg injury in the past week.  From what I’ve read, it might not be anything, but he was worried he tore something and had to get it checked out.  The fact I haven’t heard an actual diagnosis suggests that they couldn’t find anything wrong with him.  That doesn’t mean there isn’t anything wrong, but I’m hoping it turned out to be nothing and Fenix just needed to rest it up.  Either way, I expect the possible injury to be worked into the story of the match, and for the Bucks to do a bunch of moves and stuff onto the leg.

I kinda think the Mexican team should walk out with the Mexican championship, but it is the Bucks’ show and they’ve talked up how legendary their ladder matches are.  They can easily win here and then drop the belts at a AAA show, without any apparent impact on the AEW win-loss stats.  I gotta pick the Bucks to win (at least all the way up to the finals of the AEW tag title tournament).

Kenny Omega vs. PAC - Pac, formerly Adrian Neville in WWE, is a substitution for Jon Moxley, who had to pull out of this match last week due to a staph infection.  Ironically, the substitution pays off on plans that were canceled a while back.

Pac’s involvement in AEW was announced at the company’s original press conference, while he held Dragon Gate’s top title (the Open the Dream Gate championship).  He was set to feud with Hangman Page, and the storyline played up the idea that Page wanted to be a champion, implying the match would figure into the AEW world title picture.  Then on May 18 Page beat Pac by disqualification at a British indy show, setting up an angle where Pac refused to face Page at their scheduled AEW match on May 25. 

It turned out Pac would not agree to lose any matches during his title run, and AEW had decided never to do DQ finishes to get out of booking clean finishes.  There was talk that Pac wasn’t even supposed to lose to Page, but he would be feuding with Omega later.  I seem to remember speculating that Omega and Pac were meant to win their matches on May 25 and meet for the AEW title here.  Obviously that didn’t happen.  But Pac has since lost the Dream Gate belt on July 21, which puts him back in play at AEW.  And just in the nick of time, it seems.

I was expecting Moxley to be the slight favorite in the originally scheduled match, but now that Pac is in the mix anything is possible.  The outcome is totally up in the air, and it’s just as well since I expect the focus is on delivering a killer match to make up for failing to deliver the advertised match.  Even though Omega was playing a dick by mocking Mox’s “boo-boo,” Pac is an even bigger dick, so I’m lowkey pulling for Kenny.

Cody Rhodes vs. Shawn Spears - Spears will be seconded by Tully Blanchard, playing on the legendary rivalry between Blanchard and Cody’s father Dusty.  Cody brought an entire entourage to the ring a year ago at All In, but for this match he is contractually limited to a single person in his corner.  We haven’t been outright told this person will be a big surprise who will make a big difference in the match, but it’s been set up to let us think that, so I hope Cody doesn’t just bring out Dustin Rhodes or Dallas Page.

Rhodes and Spears were friends in OVW when they were coming up through WWE developmental.  Cody hit it big in WWE, while Spears (as Tye Dillinger) languished for most of his thirties.  When Spears jumped to AEW, fans generally considered it a positive move for both parties, although Cody made an offhand remark about Spears being a “player-coach” and a “good hand,” curiously implying that he was dismissing his friend as a journeyman.  Spears took offense and blasted Cody with a chair on June 29, leaving Cody a bloody mess.

This is easily the biggest match of Spears’s career, and it’s probably one of his last chances to escape the stigma of being a never-was.  A win would give him momentum as a key figure in the early weeks of AEW’s TV show, as Cody would need to chase him for a few more months to seek vengeance.  A loss would simply validate WWE’s lack of interest in Tye Dillinger--and worse, affirm Cody’s kayfabe dismissiveness on AEW’s own programming.  Cody hasn’t actually been pinned yet in AEW, so I assume they’re saving that for something; I hope this is it.

Evil Uno & Stu Grayson vs. Chuck Taylor & Trent Beretta - The team that wins this match earns a bye in the AEW tag team championship tournament.  So basically you have to win this one match in order to skip one tournament match.  That’s kinda screwy.  Both of these teams won three-ways to qualify for this match.  The Best Friends (Taylor/Beretta) qualified on June 28, while the Dark Order (Uno/Grayson) qualified on July 13.

I think the plan was for the Dark Order to be super-over as a hot team with a spooky gimmick and a cult following on the indies.  It hasn’t been working out.  Honestly, Chuck Taylor manages to come off as creepier than the Dark Order’s gimmick just by being a really weird dude who is oddly devoted to hugs.  Hopefully the popularity of the Best Friends will override disinterest in the Dark Order to heat the match up.  Logically, the bad guys should get the bye, so I think the Dark Order better cheat a lot.

Riho vs. Hikaru Shida - I’ve heard talk that the winner of this match will qualify for the first women’s world championship match on October 2, but I haven’t been able to confirm that.  It wouldn’t make a ton of sense anyway, considering Riho is 2-1 in AEW and coming off of a loss, while Shida is 1-0 but hasn’t appeared in the company since May.  I don’t have stats in front of me, but I would think at least one other woman in the company would have more credibility in this spot.  Then again, Britt Baker was sidelined with a concussion for much of August, so maybe she was originally slated for this spot and they decided they couldn’t wait to see if she’d be cleared.  I guess I’ll go with Riho to win, even though I’m still not sure what’s at stake.

Christopher Daniels & Frankie Kazarian & Scorpio Sky vs. Jungle Boy & Luchasaurus & Marko Stunt - The Daniels team is SCU.  Jungle Boy and Luchasaurus are “A Boy and His Dinosaur,” so I guess with Marko they’re “A Boy and A Boy and His Dinosaur” or something like that.  This could be a good chance to put over the Luchasaurus team, but their gimmick is going to be over either way, so maybe they should keep up momentum on SCU.

Darby Allin vs. Joey Janella vs. Jimmy Havoc - This is a three-way match, so the first man to score a fall on either of his opponents wins.  These guys were on the losing end of a six-man tag match on July 13.  At the time I believe I observed that nobody in that six-man had yet won a match, so now the losers of the Weenie Hut Jr.’s Bowl are having a Super Weenie Hut Jr.’s Bowl.  I guess the guy who scores the winning fall gets to escape into the midcard, while the other two open the next show, and the loser of that match gets to hang out with Brandon Cutler backstage or something.  Of the three, Allin is the biggest project with perhaps the least indy scene cred, so he’ll probably be the Super Weenie Hut Jr.’s champion.

21-Woman Casino Battle Royale - This is set for the free pre-show.  It’s a gauntlet battle royale with timed entrances and over-the-top-rope eliminations, but with the same special rules as the one AEW did on May 25.  Five women start the match, and every three  minutes another group of women enter; the 21st woman enters alone.  Eliminations can occur at any time by exiting the ring over the top rope and placing both feet on the floor before re-entering.  The last woman left after everyone else is eliminated wins the match, and qualifies to wrestle...uh, someone (maybe the winner of Riho vs. Shida?) for the women’s championship on October 2.

As soon as AEW announced the match, they admitted they didn’t have 21 women on the roster, so we can expect a lot of new faces.  Confirmed so far:

Allie

Awesome Kong

Big Swole

Brandi Rhodes

Britt Baker

Ivelisse

Jazz

Nyla Rose

Sadie Gibbs

Shazza McKenzie

Teal Piper

I heard AEW and Impact Wrestling were in talks to put Tenille Dashwood in this match, but even if that’s true they might not get the i’s dotted in time.  Taya Valkyrie was on Being the Elite the other day, but I don’t know if that means anything.  Obviously Chicago is wondering if CM Punk will be at this show, but I never see anyone wondering if his wife, AJ Mendez, might show up.  Apparently something is up with Kylie Rae but nobody’s talking about it, which is troubling.  I don’t even know what continent Bea Priestly will be on during this show, so she may not be available.

It feels like AEW’s biggest plans in this division are for Baker, although that could be just to have her put over someone else when the moment comes.  The safest bet is Britt, though, until someone else emerges from the pack.

Jack Evans & Angelico vs. Isiah Kassidy & Marq Quen - Another match for the pre-show.  Kassidy and Quen are Private Party, and everyone likes them but the big issue I’m always hearing is that they’re green and need to be protected by veterans until they’re ready.  Evans and Angelico are veterans, so there you go.  My guess is that AEW won’t book Private Party to actually win a match until they’ve decided the team is truly ready, but since we don’t know when that’ll happen we have something to look forward to every time they wrestle.  For now, I gotta pick Evangelico (is anybody calling them that?) to win.