#and now we get a million stills dropped in one day and new promo almost daily

[merlinemryspendragon]

What is the primary force that guides us along our paths? Is it our minds, or our hearts?

#bridgertonedit #coloredit #polinedit #tvedit #perioddramaedit #dailypolin #dailybridgerton #bridgertonblr #cinemapix #filmtvtoday #dailyflicks #bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #edit #my gifs #years surviving off of fics and rereading rmb #and now we get a million stills dropped in one day and new promo almost daily #i'd kill to have a 4k dl for the trailer though but alas

[deluweil]

This is my 4x12 review - skip if you haven’t watched yet.💖

In my opinion the whole Treasure Hunt thing, had a S2 bank mystery vibe about it. Like the silly calm before the storm, again in parallel to right before when Buck was hurt.

I knew the Author jerk is alive the second I saw the actor who played it, the was not one show where he guest starred and wasn’t a jerk 😂😂

So since I did my own version of live writing, I apologize if this is a bit disorganized.

We got so much buddie bread crumbs, that eventually felt like a meal at the end of the episode so let’s start with: Both boys in sunglasses - oh WOW! 🔥🔥  

Bobby sending Eddie with Chimney and Buck looking thoroughly unhappy to be separated from Eddie. They nod at each other and while Buck frowns at Chimney, Eddie crosses himself before going to get geared up.

It was a small gesture but very significant because Eddie has already crashed in a chopper (in 3x15 and watched Hen and Strand crash in the crossover) he knows what could go wrong.

Chimney’s “cheer up you can go next time” doesn’t really reassure Buck. I think a “we’ll be fine” or “I’ll keep him safe” would have calmed Buck’s nerves a lot more.

Can we discuss for a second how HOT!! Eddie looked doing the aerial rescue? I mean WOW, I watched it several times. 🥵🥵🥵

The 118 sitting together trying to figure out the riddle was funny, everyone thinking how it’s a bad idea to even consider this to be a real thing, except for Buck, of course. 😂

And while the others are already considering how freaking horrible the rest of their shift  is going to be like, because it’s all over the news thanks to Taylor Kelly’s story.

Eddie called Taylor - Buck’s “girlfriend”, but we don’t see his face, we do get to see it, when Buck stresses (for what feels like the millionth time from the sigh and tone of his voice) that she is his friend not his girlfriend.

Eddie’s “Yeah, sure, right.” face is priceless!!😂😂  

Buck and Taylor plotting together again, is always hilarious, those two are disaster magnets, it makes for good fun. What bothered me was that Buck offered Taylor to pair up, but re-watching, everybody’s reaction didn’t exactly originally encouraged a teaming up vibe.

However the problem with human nature is - everyone love to obsess over riddles. 😉😉

Eddie jumping through the window into the fire truck? epic!

Eddie did suggest to team up to Buck and I love that even after Buck told him he’s working with Taylor, the look on Eddie’s face melted Buck almost immediately and had him suggesting Eddie joins the two of them. 🥰🥰

The scene in Buck’s apartment, with the three of them Eddie is right between Taylor and Buck in the shot and kind of “talking to himself” was so funny. - Gave me a BBC Sherlock scene between Irene Adler, Sherlock and John.

The way Martin Freeman stole the scene just by dropping small comments. I gotta give it to Eddie, out of all of everything in that scene, Ryan performance is what I’m going to remember. - Acting choices were made all throughout this episode by both Oliver and Ryan.

Also can we talk about the fact that Eddie is now stating little bits of knowledge like Buck now - “I can know weird stuff too” from 4x03 is so haunting me, these boys have totally rubbed off each other. (get your minds out of the gutters... for now anyway 😉)

I love how Eddie and Buck sit down and scratch, just thinking about the fire ants 😂😂

Buck being lowered into the septic tank - notice, Eddie is the one handling the rope, again, his expression worried while Buck is still down there, especially after having to drop him into the water.

I have noticed that Bobby sent Eddie up in the chopper, but is reluctant to send him under ground still 😉🙃

Buck’s “come on” when Eddie and Bobby made a face and walked away from the stench was so funny. Also super adorable on Buck’s part. 

I love how Taylor keeps shutting Buck down, it’s amusing to watch now that I know how the episode ends.

Athena being done with idiots the entire episode was hilarious! Angela is a queen!

I loved that 9-1-1 dispatchers were running a bet of places where the treasure may be. (Josh’s “Who thought that was a good idea?” and someone shouting “not it!” had me in stitches 😂😂)

Let’s take a break from buddie for a second:

Hen and Chimney joining the race and Bobby trying to hide his research from Athena was so funny, I mean, she is a police sergeant, there was no way she wouldn’t figure him out.

Bobby planning a future together, a life after the job, and Athena shutting him down. I do think this is what will come between them eventually. Athena making a unilateral decision, without considering even talking about a future with Bobby that doesn’t revolve around them working until they’re either forced out or buried six feet under ground. 

I find it interesting because it’s usually the other way around, my mom has been working on my dad to retire for years now so they can travel before both of them are too old to do it. So I kinda get where Bobby’s coming from.

In parallel though, Athena making the unilateral decision like Eddie did when he re-enlisted in 3x15. I do hope Bobby and Athena manage to work things out, I love them together. 

Back to the hunt:

Of course Athena worked out where the treasure is, Karen built an algorithm, and Taylor apparently helping Buck and Eddie figure it out bringing all three teams together.

Athena looking to Buck and Eddie asking them if they seriously brought their gear with them and Eddie pointing at Hen and Chimney to divert the attention from them about their med-kits. - like children trying to justify themselves to their parents. 😂😂😂

Wasting time negotiating about the money was hilarious, especially with Taylor in the chopper hovering over them lmao.

And then there was probie - Jesus! I laughed so much.  😂🤦‍♂️

Also Buck’s “I’m not doing anymore math”, as a reference to “she taught me math”, Buck’s not doing that shit. He calculated enough for one day and he is done!  😂

I do like that Oli and Ryan’s marks are closer together again ❣❣❣  

Eddie: “We didn’t kill him”  Buck: “We just wanted to” Bobby’s “Shut up” face killed me.

Probie selling them out “I don’t know these ppl.” You don’t say shit like this as a probie 😂😂😂

Also Rick saying “I didn’t actually think it was” and I'm just enjoying the moment, was awesome. I like it when he shows up in episodes, he and Athena make a good and amusing team. 

Back to buddie bread crumbs:

Everyone in Bathena’s house, including Taylor, who took the place next to buck, leaving Eddie to sit directly in front of Taylor and next to Chimney. - The “At this point I don’t trust anyone.” cuts to Eddie’s face, that looked as if he’s saying “Seriously dude? hurtful” - The fact that Buck stopped and met Eddie’s reproachful gaze even though they are not directly in front of each other says so much! 

Also the “Stop for a second and think about what you said.” looks from Chimney and the others are very meaningful. (#everybody knows 😉)  Buck sticking his foot in his mouth and him backtracking are shot directly from Eddie’s perspective. - hmm, I wonder why…? 🧐🧐

And to complete the meal:

Taylor placing Buck directly in the Friend-Zone category, was genius. And while Buck and Taylor have a fun energy together it never really felt romantically oriented. Also I have a certain feeling that seeing Buck and Eddie interact, at Buck’s place and at Bathena’s house and not for the first time either, she knows it will not work between her and Buck.

Buck, trying to feel something more for her, even if in a gentler and way sweeter way than the cursed ship I will not name, it feels forced on his end too - and Taylor lets him off the hook in a gentle way too, I like her for that even more. 

I really hope we keep seeing Taylor in a friend capacity for Buck, I think it’s good for him to have support and someone to talk to outside the 118. And I will absolutely worship Taylor if she will be the buddie catalyst, I mean Megan does ship buddie too, it will only be appropriate 😉💖

The episode in itself was pretty nice, I would have probably enjoyed it more if I watched it before LS who absolutely kicked me in the feels today. But I do know that just like 9-1-1 2x15 I’ll go back and watch it like a million times because it is a fun episode to pass the time, and the buddie crumbs were delicious. 

The promo kicked me in the feels too, I will not discuss it here right now, but I do hope that that last part won’t be a cliff hanger and we’ll have to wait an entire week for the rest, two weeks of frayed nerves are a LOT to suffer through 🙈

Sending big hugs out there to whomever needs it 🤗🤗🤗

#9-1-1 4x12 #118 firefam #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #the buddie crumbs were yummi #i want more of those #everybody knows #bathena #Henrietta Wilson #chimney han #taylor kelly #love her for friend zoning buck #now somebody get rid of the other pesky LI #i don't usually say this but #jealous!eddie #was everything #can't wait for the next episode #someone sedate me

[sierrabinondo]

2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could. 

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration. 

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid. 

then... the following week came. 

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of. 

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah. 

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.” 

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.  

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic. 

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried. 

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal. 

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.  

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs. 

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH.  i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am 

-watching so. much. anime. 

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals 

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green 

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

[smartstores-2021]

SmartStores Review 2021 - ⚠️Launch Discount & Huge Bonus⚠️

SmartStores Review – Introduction

Shopping on the internet is a MASSIVE undertaking. The pie is worth $4.2 trillion dollars. $4.2 billion dollars That’s more than most rich countries’ GDP. And, because of technology improvements in digital marketing, obtaining a piece of that massive $4.2 trillion pie has never been easier. But, before we get into how to get your slice of pie, let me clarify a few points. When I say “shopping online,” I don’t mean drop shipping from Alibaba, sourcing inventory, building complex e-commerce sites, selling junk on auction sites, complicated “Arbitrage” schemes, providing customer service, hauling boxes to the post office, or spending hundreds/thousands on paid advertisements.

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All of these methods are outdated, time-consuming, and tedious ways to earn money through “online shopping.” And with those outdated methods come a slew of issues, such as sourcing low-cost inventory from China and spending thousands of dollars on it, building sophisticated e-commerce websites that require ongoing maintenance and upgrading, and so on. Thousands of dollars are spent on branding, marketing, and advertising. Now that you’ve seen what I’ve shown you, you know that “online shopping” has a HUGE potential and that money literally grows on trees in this industry. The barrier to entry for “little guy” marketers like you and me, on the other hand, is simply too high. At least, that’s how it used to be. Because they made the decision to take action. They developed an app that has revolutionized the “online shopping” experience for small-time marketers like themselves. It’s known as SmartStores.

SmartStores Review – What is SmartStores?

With Just 2 Simple Clicks, SmartStores Creates Automated “Smart” Affiliate Stores and Free Buyer Traffic! Will Allen’s SmartStores allows you to quickly create Automated Affiliate “Smart” Stores that are instantly filled with the best affiliate deals available online… Then, using over 100 established traffic sources, it generates free buyer traffic. It’s a one-stop shop for traffic and sales! SmartStores Will Allen guarantees your complete satisfaction! For 2021 And Beyond, The World’s First REAL Automated Commission Solution Instantly Gain Access To Today’s Most Profitable Platforms!

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SmartStores Review – Pros and Cons

SmartStores Review – Pros:

NEWBIE FRIENDLY

This new state-of-the-art software will allow you to simply build a complete AUTOMATED affiliate online store with just a click of your mouse. There is no need to worry about design or anything like that. SmartStores will do all done for you instantly.

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[alittlefrenchtree]

You know the trailer itself didnt give T a dramatic boost in followers but it has now sped up after hot French fan photos, fan interactions is the way to go for exposure and good publicity 👍 for a *certain* audience anyway

Yeah, we were all expecting for him to hit 10M on IG even before the trailer drop and then... Nope. I’ve read a tweet from just a couple hours before the tailer drop saying something like that was probably the last day we were seeing him a one single digit million followers and then... Nope again (should be soon, tho).

Funny how being seen with “pretty” and/or “famous” girls (or on an edit on Tik Tok) gives you almost (or more) followers and attention on social media than being the lead on Villeneuve’s Dune(*), right? Wonder if promo people know about that. Someone should tell them, since social media are one of the most (if not the most) important part of a promo campaign 🤔🤓 

(*)(I know it’s way more complicated than that. That the first is very quick, its effect is immediate and not necessarily lasting and of a lower quality when Dune’s entire effect should be considered from the annonce of him being as Paul all the way to future end of the era and is more qualitative anyway but still. You get the idea.)

PS: I have to admit that I love this new habit of Nonnies dropping messages in my inbox with observations about image/promo/audience/etc. Connecting pertinent dots and highlighting interesting points. It feels like we’re all back in college together 🤗

#alft asks

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 1

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, me writing Niall’s accent

WC: 6.7k

-----------

“So… are we talking like, full on whips and chains and nipple clamps and shit?”

Shawn’s eyebrows are lost somewhere in his hairline, but at least it’s more life in his eyes than Niall’s seen in a while. Niall tries not to go pink at Shawn’s assumption, but he’s still not that good at talking about all this.

“No, no, mate. I mean, some of ‘em do that. I think, I mean, based on what you pay for it, they’ll do whatever you want.”

Both guys go quiet and squirm a little uncomfortably. They’re sitting in Shawn’s living room in his $3 million bachelor pad, furnished very tastefully and expensively, talking about hiring sex workers. It doesn’t look or feel great.

Niall sighs. “It’s not like Pretty Woman. These girls don’t even charge by the hour. They’re escorts, not hookers. They’re educated and articulate and the kind o’ woman you could have on your arm at any industry schmoozing event and no one would bat an eye. That’s the whole point.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. He’s heard of agencies like this, obviously. He’s been around the industry long enough to know guys like him, and producers and managers and agents and other high-powered men, aren’t driving down Hollywood Boulevard looking for $200 an hour streetwalkers. But that doesn’t mean Shawn’s ever remotely considered utilizing a service like this.

“But… they’re dominatrixes?”

Niall tips his head back and forth, squinting as he looks for the words. “They’re dommes. ‘S a bit different. La Splendeur is the name o’ the agency. They hire women that boss you around a bit, in some form or an udder. I mean, have you ever tried that?”

Shawn flushes a little and scrolls through his relatively short sexual history. “... sort of? Like, she’s on top?”

Niall sighs and closes his eyes with a wise smile. He has much to learn.

“‘S just a suggestion. La Splendeur is the best of the best. Super discreet. Beautiful. Interesting girls. And it’s better stress relief than I’ve found anywhere else.”

“Including golf?” Shawn quips.

Niall barks a laugh. “Including golf. I’ll leave you the number and you can decide. I really like Karina, but it might be weird knowin’ we’ve both had our hands in that cookie jar. Up to you, mate. Totally up to you.”

+

Shawn has never been so anxious about a phone call in his life. He goes through his phone and turns off location services first, suddenly paranoid that they could somehow track his device and be able to broadcast this for the whole internet. Plus, he’s busy with pre-festival run promo, so he’s forced to make the call in the middle of the day. 

He goes to great lengths not to be heard, very publicly excusing himself to the bathroom and then running off to a quiet conference room down a hallway that was deserted. He shuts himself inside, stands in the corner by the window and dials, hands shaking.

The voice on the phone is smooth and easy, probably used to dealing with nervous wrecks like him all the time. She explains how it works -- the rates, the wire transfer, the security, the booking. Selecting his date comes down to an emailed photo portfolio, password encrypted and accompanied by a very stern warning not to share it with anyone, even potential referrals. Shawn supposes that makes sense -- they don’t want these photos getting passed around without the safety net of knowing that in return, the agency has the client’s private email address.

He’s twitchy all day before he can get home to his laptop, kick off his Saint Laurent chelsea boots, and pick his date.

‘Date’ is how he’s trying to think about it. Niall encouraged that, too. Shawn texted to let him know that he’d made the call (less than 24 hours after Niall had made the suggestion). Niall was over the moon, reminding him that it’s supposed to be fun and he shouldn’t feel weird about calling. It’s like a guaranteed great first date, just… a really expensive one.

Shawn opens the email to a PDF of professional and truly stunning photos. Each girl has a short bio and a series of shots that really don’t feel at all like advertisement for sex. He takes note of Karina, Niall’s favorite, a short and curvy Filipino girl who apparently excels at tennis, loves to sail and has an MBA. Her photos are gorgeous -- her on a beach wearing a tasteful cover-up and a flower in her hair with just enough cleavage to catch a guy’s attention, standing beside a tall window in a snug dress and heels, and grinning on a tennis court, a cute candid.

In total, there are about 25 women on La Splendeur’s roster of sorts, more than Shawn expected. They’re incredibly diverse in terms of race, shape and size, all accomplished and learned and surprisingly non-threatening, given the niche service they provide. Only one had him scrolling back up to look at her again and again.

Penny, 26, has a master’s degree in criminal psychology, is fluent in four languages, is an excellent skier and has a German shepherd named Pamela. Her photos show her lying barefoot in a cocktail dress on a lounge chair with a look in her eyes that says she already knows everything about you, looking over her shoulder to laugh at the camera during golden hour from above the Hollywood sign, and his personal favorite, a black and white close up headshot. She doesn’t look to be wearing a stitch of makeup. Her hair is wet and slung over and around her face like it’s in the wind. Her lips are parted, her eyes are dark, and Shawn has to meet her immediately. 

Penny. Penny. Penny.

God, he can’t fucking wait. He’s so keyed up he actually grins at the change he gets from a barista at Commissary because she gives him back two cents.

His instructions are clear and concise. He is to get himself to the Chateau Marmont and head into the bar, where he will give his name. Someone will escort him up to his suite for the evening, where he will be greeted by security, who will confirm the receipt of the wire transfer and wait until his date arrives. Check out time is 11:30am the next morning.

The big guy who lets him into the room seems friendly enough, but Shawn is sure his every move is being watched by a hawk. Even with rich and famous clientele, agencies can’t afford to take risks with their employees. At least he doesn’t feel like a nervous kid being scrutinized by his prom date’s dad while he waits. In fact, the guy, Gus, he says, sees him shaking like a leaf and murmurs that the mini bar is fully stocked. He excuses himself to wait outside.

Shawn pours himself a glass of bourbon on the rocks and looks around. He’s never been in a room at the Chateau. It’s a bit odd -- almost too comfortable to be a hotel. There’s a full kitchen and vintage furniture that looks like it belongs in a warm, comfortable apartment rather than the stoic uniformity of a hotel.

He’s rattling ice in his glass anxiously and staring out at the lights of West Hollywood when the door opens. He’s just distracted enough not to stand immediately when she walks in, and he realizes a little late that it’s rude, so he scrambles to be upright and almost drops his fucking crystal glass.

She’s smiling warmly at him like they’re old family friends. It’s not clinical or superficial or forced. It’s a real smile, and it’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

I mean, wow.

She’s medium height, 5’7” probably, but taller in her spiky heels. Her hair is lighter than he saw in the pictures, probably from the summer sun. Her olive skin is gorgeously bronzed. Her brown eyes are darker than his, like espresso. Her eyes are wide set and framed by well tamed thick brows. Her lips are full and European. Italian, he’d guess.

So why is her name Penny?

Shawn almost rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn’t know why that’s sticking in his head now, of all moments. Gus gives her a nod and shuts the door. As she approaches, graceful and quiet even in her heels, Shawn blinks, staring at the door.

“Is… uh, does he stand outside the whole time?”

Penny smiles again and cocks her head, shaking it. “No, no. He’s my driver, not my guard dog.”

Shawn gives a weak chuckle and it sounds pathetic to his own ears. At the mention of dogs, his mind springs to Pamela the German shepherd. He wonders if she’s real or a line in a bio to make Penny sound quirky and likeable. He watches her lift her sheath of thick hair over one shoulder and reach for the glass of bourbon in his hand to take a sip. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Please, have a seat,” she suggests, gesturing to the sofa. He blinks too much and plunks himself down, clearing his throat.

She lowers herself beside him, facing him with her arm stretched along the back of the couch toward him. She folds her ankles and for a second Shawn thinks about the scene in The Princess Diaries when Mia falls out of her chair trying to pull the same move. Penny emulates Queen Clarisse instead. Shawn tenses against his own will. He can feel himself shutting down.

Penny takes another sip of his drink and eyes him carefully from over the glass. She’s been doing this long enough to know when a guy is locking up in front of her eyes. 

It’s like Operation. You have to move slow and careful, or you get zapped. He could be the kind of guy that would respond well to her dropping her hand to his knee while they talk, or it could send him springing across the room. Penny follows her instincts and instead flicks her heels until her multi-thousand dollar shoes clunk onto the hardwood below her. She curls up her feet beside her and tilts her head to rest against her fist.

“How long are you in LA for?”

It’s one of her favorite safe questions. It offers potential to discuss work if he wants to go there, but is vague enough to offer him an out if he wants it.

“Uh, for another couple weeks. I’ve got some meetings and events and stuff and then I think I’m bouncing around. New York, maybe. I don’t know my schedule as well as I probably should.”

Well, at least he’s talking. She hands him back his glass with a wink.

“Schedule schmedule.”

Shawn smiles. It’s tentative still, but sweet. She made the right move by taking off a layer of the untouchable glamour.

It’s her move again. She considers the board, eyes her options, keeps her fingers delicate on the tweezers.

“I listened to your music this week.”

It’s a risky shot, like going for the funny bone. She already knows, can tell by the way he carries himself, that he’s here to work something out of his system. This appointment isn’t about satisfying a rakish curiosity or an ego thing, or worse, a sex addiction. He needs something from her -- comfort, release. If it’s his music that’s driving him to need her, mentioning it off the bat like this could do some damage to the trust she’s working to build. She holds her breath.

He lights up.

“Oh, cool. All of it?”

She wiggles her naturally shaped eyebrows. “Right down to “Something Big.””

Shawn winces playfully and laughs. It sounds real this time. “Yikes.”

“No, it was cute,” she insists, her fingers stretching out along the back of the couch to nudge at his very solid arm. He goes a little pink.

“Do you have a favorite?”

Shawn doesn’t mean to put her on the spot. For all he knows, she just googled his albums to have something to say. But he asks anyway, despite himself, because he’d like to know which, if any, of his songs caught the attention of a woman like her.

“I like “Particular Taste.” It came on in my car the other day while I was on Mulholland. It’s a damn good car song.”

Shawn feels himself get a little smug. “Thanks. I like that one, too.”

They’re watching each other quietly, feeling the tension build. Penny wets her lips and leans in, getting ready to speak again.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Shawn blurts. His eyes go a little comically wide before he course corrects and inspects his nearly empty glass.

Penny is startled, but tucks some hair behind her ear and regroups. “Almost five years.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

Penny shares a wise sort of smile that reminds Shawn uncomfortably of Emily. “It’s nice work if you can get it.”

“Right,” Shawn croaks, glancing away.

Penny feels the gentle sting of having nicked the board just a bit with her tweezers. She reaches out the arm against the couch and lets her fingertips skim his lush curls. His chest shudders and his eyes dart toward the window. He raises his shaky hand with the empty glass to his lips for something to do.

Penny drops her other hand to his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey,” she murmurs, all honey, “Would you like me to refill that?”

Shawn looks down at his drink and shakes his head. “N-no, that’s ok.”

Penny swipes her tongue over the front of her teeth and decides to toss her playbook aside the way she does on rare occasions.

She scoots in, cups his cheek in her hand and focuses his eyes on hers. His jaw twitches under her fingers.

“What do you want, Shawn?”

He blinks quickly, startled that she said something, confronted him with the actual situation they’re dealing with.

“I’m… I don’t know. Can… can we just talk for a while?”

She eases back a little, drops her hands in her lap. “Of course. About anything in particular?”

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek, then says, “How did you get into… escorting?”

He emphasizes the last word as a question, unsure if he’s using the right terminology. She nods reassuringly.

“Well, around the time I was graduating from college, I met a girl at a party who recruited me, for lack of a better term. She told me about the money, the tips, the security, the gifts. Sounded pretty good to a 20-year-old without a post-grad plan.”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You graduated college at 20?”

She shrugs. “I skipped the 4th grade and AP tested out of most of my freshman year.”

He’s impressed. And intimidated. He fights the instinct to curl him up into himself. He doesn’t want to feel small beside her. He wants to feel impressive, too.

“That’s pretty cool. Do you do this full time?”

Penny laughs. It’s light and airy and maybe just a little… restrained somehow.

“Yes. You’re very curious about my line of work.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be-- I mean, I just… Sorry--”

She stops him from stumbling all over himself by planting a hand around his wrist.

“It’s ok. I’m just not used to being asked. Most people… they don’t want to be reminded that they’re paying for it.”

As soon as she says it, she hears the mistake in her words. Fucking amateur bullshit, she scolds herself, watching him cave in. His eyes drop to his feet and his chest rises and falls a little harder.

“Hey,” she prompts gently, keeping her hands off this time for fear of sending him flying, “Don’t shut down on me.”

He looks back at her blankly. “Don’t…?”

She presses her tongue out to smooth along her lower lip. “I’m here to help make you feel good, Shawn. I’m excellent at knowing how best to do that, but I think I’m gonna need an assist from you this time. So just… don’t think, don’t act, don’t react, just feel it. And tell me what you want.”

“I want to cuddle.”

He says it so suddenly he surprises himself. Without missing a beat, Penny nods, formulating a new gameplan in her head. She bites her lip and reaches for his twitchy hand in his lap.

“Ok. I can do that. I just want to get comfy first, ok?”

Before he can wonder out loud what she’s going to change into and how she got clothes in here without him seeing, she leans in and presses her lips to his delicately. His frazzled brain lights up like the 4th of July, sending thoughts flying like out of control fireworks. He kisses back after a second or two, firm but chaste. He murmurs subtly into her mouth.

Small victories.

When Penny walks out of the bathroom five minutes later, her makeup is wiped clean, leaving her face a little shiny and flushed. She’s in touchably soft clingy leggings and a Lululemon hoodie, looking like an athleisure ad. She’s still barefoot, her white painted toes winking up at him before she drops onto the bed and waves him over. He makes to climb up next to her and she hisses, gesturing to him with a wave of her hand.

“I took off my armor, Mendes, you need to do the same.”

Shawn swallows and smiles shyly. He kicks off his shoes, balls up his socks and drops his jeans into a heap by the bed. In his taut navy t-shirt and custom printed Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he settles in beside her, mirroring her position on his side.

“Ok, cards on the table, I think. Bad breakup? Tour anxiety? Voice struggles?”

Shawn’s chest rises and falls heavily with a deep, unrestrained sigh. There’s no reason to hide from her. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t have expectations. She’s a safe space.

He stares down at the curve of her hip as he speaks. He tells the story from what he thinks is the beginning -- Emily’s first mention of the idea of the PR relationship with Bex. He explains the strategy and the trajectory, that they expect to be in and out of the public eye throughout the summer festival run and will not-so-quietly break up just around the time his album releases in the fall and Bex heads out on tour for her brand new EP.

Penny nods along while he speaks, pursing her lips and shifting slightly closer to him. She’s not working consciously, not timing the seconds between movements like she sometimes does, like she did even just on the couch a few minutes ago. But as he talks, she feels the tension start to drip off him and release to the point where she has no hesitation in slipping her fingers into the tight, short curls at the back of his neck while she runs her toes up and down the back of his calf.

He seems comforted by being able to touch her, too. He rests a hand in the dip of her waist and it wanders slightly up her ribcage and upper arm, twisting his long pale fingers in her hair. He watches it curl and bend for him. He can’t remember the last time he played with a woman’s hair like this.

When his cursory explanation ends, he closes his eyes and rests his head on his folded arm. Penny’s fingers tug gently at the nape of his neck for his attention.

“Sounds like a lot.”

Shawn’s chest stutters. His eyes well. He turns his face into the pillow, embarrassed by the hair trigger of his emotional reaction.

“S-sorry, I just… fuck. I don’t know why I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a final unintended whimper of defeat, a nice bookend on a chunk of shame he can hang onto and revisit in his head when he needs it the least.

His eyes are snapped shut. The tears on his lashes start to wick into the expensive fabric of the pillowcase beneath his head. He’s waiting for her -- he doesn’t know what for. He’s waiting for her to leave him there to cry it out, get back in her expensive shoes and clack away from his misery. He’s waiting for her to shove a hand down his boxers and give him what she thinks he paid for. He’s waiting for her to hate him like he hates himself right now.

Slowly, timidly, he opens his eyes. She’s there, blinking at him, face as placid and reassuring as he’s seen since she got here. She doesn’t look ready to run. She doesn’t look at him like the pitiful creature he’s acting like. She slides her long fingers up further to cradle the back of his head and make his wet eyes flutter.

“Would you like to hear what I think?”

Shawn pauses, then nods.

Penny wets her lips. “I think maybe you’re not very good at compartmentalizing yet.”

Shawn frowns slightly and starts turning circles on her lower back with the pad of his thumb, nodding at her to continue.

“This relationship stunt doesn’t define you as a man or as an artist. It’s publicity, the same way appearing on GMA is publicity. It’s not as honest, maybe. I can see that’s part of what bothers you. I can understand that. But this is a means to an end. You’re not using Bex; she’s aware of what she’s involved in. She benefits, too.

“So instead of letting this become something that bothers you in quiet moments, makes you question what this makes you look like or even who this means you’re becoming, you need to accept that this is a part of your job and it’s not who you are.”

Shawn blinks dumbly. He’s been trying to convince himself of this for a while, but he’s never come close to sounding as soothing and confident as she does right now. This woman listened to him yammer for seven minutes about his stupid pop star problems without rolling her eyes or waving off his concerns.

Thank god he’s paying her to be here or he swears he’d already be half in love with her.

Shawn closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you may.”

He opens his eyes and watches her, settled by the distinct sensation that she’s allowing him to proceed as he’s comfortable. At the same time, he’s deliciously unnerved by something lurking behind her eyes, like she’s deciding how long to give him before she takes over. He hopes it won’t be long.

Shawn cups a large palm around her cheek, marveling at the silkiness of her hair in his fingers as he leans in, brushing his lips over hers. He hears himself murmur gently at the slick warmth of her lip balm. It tastes like rose water and coconut. 

He eases back after a moment, his head spinning.

“Jesus Christ, that’s incredible.”

Her long, dark lashes lift and lower lazily, casting shadows on her cheeks in the lamplight. “Kissing me?”

He shakes his head, marveling with a gentle groan, “Yes. Why does kissing you feel like the best thing that’s happened to me in months?”

“It’s simple. It’s stable. It’s honest.”

She says it like she didn’t have to think about it. She’s unwavering and direct and he knows she’s probably really good at all this because of who she is and what she does but he doesn’t think he cares right now if it’s not genuine. It feels too fucking good.

He smirks. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

Her full lips spread in a lazy grin. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” Shawn mutters just before pressing his lips back to hers.

Shawn has no idea what to expect. It’s been what’s had him on a knife’s edge since he booked this appointment. His curiosity has been his friend while zoning out in meetings, standing in security lines at airports, stripped down to his boxers in front of a team of people while trying on show clothes. An experience like this to look forward to was an intense enough distraction from his anxiety.

And now, lying in a bed next to her with her perfect tongue tangled with his and her soft hands roaming his body hungrily, but with purpose, his mind races -- what will this be like? What will this feel like? Is it really as good as Niall says?

She pulls back suddenly, her lips leaving his with a wet smack. His hips rut against her stomach in response.

“Time for you to stop thinking,” she rasps. Shawn squirms at the fucked-out quality of her voice. Is it at all possible that he’s got her as worked up as she has him? He’s already throbbing for her in his briefs, which he knows she can feel against her thigh.

He brushes his nose against hers a little desperately, silently begging for more. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell she’s smiling when she cups his cheek and rolls their bodies so she’s lying slotted up against him in every way that makes him crazy.

“You like kissing, huh?” she breathes. It’s not teasing, not really. It’s curious and gentle. He can feel the way she takes note of the things that have him panting a little harder, pressing into her more insistently. It makes him feel important and a little bashful. He nods anyway, lifting the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good kisser, Shawn,” she sighs into his mouth, dropping her weight into her hips and sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his pecs.

If her tongue wasn’t teasing his lower lip, he’d be grinning like an asshole.

His hands are growing frantic. They can’t decide where they like better -- her supernaturally soft hair, coursing up and down her spine, or resting on the toned swell of her ass. So they wander, getting grabbier as they go, until she pulls away again with a long lick of her wet lips.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He hears himself ask it over the rushing of blood in his ears. He can tell by the way she smiles down at him that he looks horrified at his own question. She pushes some curls off his forehead and looks him over, slowly, carefully, admiringly. Shawn is on fire beneath her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

As if in slow motion, she tucks a hand under his neck. The motion fixes his manic, desperate eyes on hers. His breathing slows. His heart drops into his gut. His jaw tightens.

“Anything I want.”

Her voice is hot and sharp. Shawn’s face screws up like his body is physically overwhelmed by the idea of all the pleasure she can offer him. His eyes snap shut and the groan he releases is inhumanly loud.

When he can force himself to look back up at her, Penny has straddled his hips and works on lifting her hoodie up and over a black bra that he’s sure only a woman like Penny could wear… like that.

Her breasts are full and soft, as evenly tanned as the rest of her, from what he can see, which is not enough. He gets a flash of a vision of her lying on the chaise on the balcony outside their Chateau suite without a stitch on her, sipping a mimosa and smiling when she catches him admiring her. He grunts and reaches for her, needing to take and touch and taste.

His hands are pinned beside his head before he gets far. He gasps. His eyes blur with her quick movement until they can refocus and realize she’s holding him down, her breasts a breath away from his mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

“Listen to me.”

It’s clear and stable and calm like a beacon in a storm. Shawn juts his chin up defiantly, licking his lips.

“You don’t touch me until I tell you to. If you do, you don’t touch me at all, not for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”

Shawn’s fingers curl into fists beside his head. His body aches, straining for the control she’s sapping from him. He’s not used to willingly giving it up, not anywhere, not for anyone.

“Take a deep breath,” she advises, feeling him struggle with the release of it, of the reins he’s held for so long his hands are fucking raw. His whole body feels raw looking up at her.

He does as he’s told. Her eyes are nearly black in the low light. He feels his shoulders soften and the squeezing of his heart start to slow, just a bit.

“You’re gonna have to walk me through this,” he grunts, shaking his head, “I-- I’m… for so…”

“I know,” she soothes, not to placate him, not to baby him. She wants him to know she understands. He feels it in the way she looks at him, the way she massages her fingers around his wrists. 

He’s ok. He’s safe. He’s safe with her. It hits him all at once like a brick over the head. He swallows.

“I’m here to take care of you. I want to make you feel as good as I possibly can.”

He nods again.

She moves slowly, gracefully, like a lithe and dangerous predator. She pushes her leggings down her hips, sliding them off her feet until they’re forgotten in a pool at the end of the bed. His shirt and boxers join them, leaving his cock aching and leaking from the tip on his lower belly. He lies beside her, as instructed, with his arms over his head, grasping a pillow in his needy fingers.

She just… touches him. 

He thought at first she was just going for a slow tease, would wrap her warm fingers around his cock after thirty seconds or so to get him somewhere, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan. He’s flat beside her, legs slightly spread, tensing and relaxing with each brush of her fingertips.

Before long, he realizes what she’s doing and it stuns him into holding his breath for so long that the gasp he releases when he remembers he needs oxygen makes her jump a little.

She’s studying him. She wants to know every inch of his body, wants to see how every subtle touch affects him. She is reading him like an instruction manual. Her eyes flicker, narrowing and darting and taking it all in. She can see every goosebump, every subtle lift of his hips, every intake of breath, every clench of muscle and little smile when she finds somewhere ticklish. By the time her scan seems complete, he’s panting, shaking, vibrating with need, and he knows she knows his body better than he does now.

And she gets to decide what to do with it.

From beside him, keeping her eyes on his, Penny reaches back and unclasps her architecturally stunning bra, draws the straps down her arms, and drops it off the side of the bed, revealing what Shawn had suspected to be the most perfect pair of breasts of all time. He was right.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hisses, pressing his head back into the pillow to keep from lunging at her stiff brown nipples. He’s rewarded for his compliment with a sweeping hand down his stomach, her fingertips just skimming the line of pubic hair that reaches down from his navel. His hips roll up in response.

Penny turns. Shawn watches her hair swing low against her back like a pendulum, entranced before he realizes she’s standing and bending over to shed her black lace cheeky panties. He remains still, his head turned toward her as she bares herself, until she turns back and faces him and he chokes on air.

He’s seen beautiful women naked. Plenty of them. Really, he has. He knows somewhere in his addled mind that it’s the performance of it that has him so fucking high strung that he almost coughs up a lung when he sees Penny without clothes, that he really, legitimately feels like he’s going to have a heart attack just from looking at her. 

But he’s never been so goddamn hard in his life.

She takes a step toward the bed and lifts her leg to climb up next to him. He realizes with a jolt as he watches her legs separate that she’s soaking fucking wet. The insides of her thighs are slick. Shawn presses his heels into the bed to ground himself.

You can’t fake that.

Without a word, she positions herself on top of him, her strong legs on either side of his hips, her hands sunken between pillows by his head. Their eyes are locked. Shawn’s cock shifts against his stomach impatiently. Penny lifts a corner of her soft wet mouth. Shawn chokes on a whimpering sound he’s never heard himself make before. She drops her hips and he hears himself gasp.

“Oh!” he cries, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up to meet her. He vaguely feels the warmth of her lips on his chest, but he’s busy trying to fight back his orgasm that, with just the pressure, warmth and wetness of her pussy resting against his length, is roaring up in his abdomen.

“J-jesus… fuck…” he hisses, rolling his head to the side, sure if he looks down at her pretty face he’ll be coming like a freight train before she even has the chance to really do anything.

“You’ve never felt anything like this before,” she tells him smoothly. It doesn’t smack of arrogance or condescension. It’s simple fact. They both know it.

He shakes his head no, panting breath into the pillowcase.

“You never knew it could be like this.”

Again, he’s agreeing.

“I want you to remember this, what this feels like with me in your lap, wet for you, showing you how this can feel with me. I want you to look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, Shawn.”

Another purring whimper escapes his throat. Slowly, he peels his sweaty cheek from the pillow and blinks down at her. There’s something feral that’s taken the place of what he saw in her before -- the white painted toes, the cozy hoodie, the gentle giggles. This part he sees now is going to swallow him whole. He’s going to let it, with pleasure.

Penny rolls her hips from left to right, swinging back again easily, with the rhythm of a dancer. The sound their bodies make is absolutely obscene. He grits his teeth through a hiss, watching her eyes flutter.

“You feel… incredible,” she pants slightly, establishing a slow, aching pace that makes Shawn’s brows draw together and his knuckles whiten against the pillow.

“I don’t know how long I can--”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

She says it easily, like he’s in no danger of losing his fucking mind and spurting all over her stomach in probably only a few seconds. He realizes with a shiver it’s because she knows, for certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that he won’t come until she tells him.

“You’re so nice and hard for me, fuck. Touching you got me so wet. Can you hear us?”

Shawn is quaking, clinging to sanity, as her slick folds hug his cock, grinding harder with each pass of her hips. He doesn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He has no idea what could come out of his mouth at this point. He just nods eagerly, begging his eyes to stay open so he can obey her.

“Can you feel the way the head of your cock is rubbing my clit?” she nearly squeaks, sounding genuinely as close to orgasm as he is. His eyes go wide. His stupid mouth opens.

“Are-- are you gonna come like this?”

Holding her quick rocking pace, Penny springs up, snapping at his lower lip like a snake. He freezes, whining, and very nearly loses control of his tensed arms.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” she moans, and it’s the only warning he gets before her whole body goes tight atop him and she gushes all over his cock and thighs.

“Holy fuck, holy fucking shit,” Shawn gasps, rolling his hips to cradle her as she stutters through it, mewling and humming against his chest. He watches her eyes squeeze shut and open again slowly, looking up at him like she forgot he was there.

In the stillness, the room is so quiet, it’s loud. Shawn feels every cell in his body screaming, begging.

Penny licks her lips and shifts, getting ready to bear down. “You can come now.”

His hips take off at a sprint with her permission. She keeps up easily, using her weight in her knees to drive herself back against his every stroke, egged on by the wet slap of their skin and the glazed look in his eyes.

“Penny, I’m coming,” he warns her, because he feels like he should and he doesn’t know quite why other than he thinks she craves her permission for everything now. She squeezes her swollen lower lip under her row of straight white teeth and watches curiously, doubling down on the stroking of her hips.

“Shit! Oh fuck!” Shawn screams, hips roiling and rioting beneath hers as he comes hard, spurting against her swollen folds and between their clenching stomachs. His vision goes white. He can’t hear himself if he keeps talking, or yelling, and he can’t hear her if she’s trying to soothe him through it. It’s several seconds before he crash lands to feel her peeling her body off his and sees her shifting back over his thighs.

He doesn’t have time, or the mental capacity, to speak before she reaches between her legs and swipes a hand through her wetness and his. Her palm is slick, glistening in the low light. She reaches for his tired cock and gives it a squeeze.

“I want one more.”

His eyes bulge. “What?”

“One more, Shawn. Come again for me. You’ve been waiting for this for a week, I know you have it in you. Now fuck my fist and come for me.”

Shawn’s jaw drops as she pulses her fingers again. Despite everything he thought he knew about his own body, he feels himself already starting to harden in her palm again. He groans loudly, pulls his shaky legs so his feet plant below him, and starts lifting his hips.

“Ohmygod. Oh… oh my god,” he pants, eyes wild as they fix on her in disbelief. How did she know? How does she have this much power over him already? How does he make sure she never gives it back?

“Yes,” she praises, looking ravenous as his hips pick up speed and he grows fully hard in the clench of her fist, “Fuck, you’re so fucking good for me.”

His head tips back. He mewls a noise of overwhelmed pleasure and fucks his hips up even harder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fucking come again!” he shouts, pupils blowing out as he comes up on his forearms and bucks his entire lower body, quaking as he hurtles toward a second orgasm.

Penny lurches forward, swallowing the scream she knows is building in his chest with a searing kiss. His abdomen clenches as he bursts for her again, drenching her fist and his belly. It’s shorter and rockier than the first orgasm, sending him falling back to the bed totally limp and sated in only a few seconds. Penny mercifully releases him from her fist, using her other hand to smooth through his hair.

She’s concerned for a minute that she broke him. He just keeps staring at her, blinking too slowly, not speaking. She presses little kisses over his face, partially to encourage him, and maybe a little bit to distract herself from trying to make him come again because holy shit, she loved that.

“Never done that before,” he mumbles finally, his eyes sliding shut, like he’s finally secure enough to close them and believe she’ll still be sitting there when he does.

She nods, though he can’t see her. On her own wiggly legs, she manages to stand and get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. When she returns to wipe him off, he’s blinking at her curiously.

“Can I touch you now?”

She grins. “Yes you may.”

Shawn smiles gently. His eyes slide shut. He lifts a heavy palm to her thigh, rubbing her soft bronzed skin in a tender gesture of thanks. 

Penny tosses the cloth aside and folds up against him, manipulating his arm around her as she lies against his chest.

“Wanna see you again,” he whispers. She bobs her head.

“Anytime you want.”

He presses his face into her hair, inhaling expensive salon shampoo and exhaling at least three months’ worth of stress. He’s asleep in under ten minutes. She decides to let him rest and behaves herself enough not to wake him up for round two (or three, technically) for at least an hour.

----------

This is gonna be a wild one, guys. If you’re so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @tnhmblive @greedydevil

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction

[carriedawayfromhome]

Blue - C.H

Count: 1.6K

Summary: Blue; a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.

Rating: General Audience (angst)

Masterlist

“I’ve never known how to say how I feel.”

You feel the tension in the air thicken as the door to your apartment opens and closes, a tired and overall exhausted looking Calum trudges through the kitchen, dumping his belongings onto the floor no words being spoken. You watch him from your spot on the couch, book half read now abandoned next to you, your feet planted on the ground ready if you need to jump up to him.  

His expression is vacant, his eyes show no light as he walks around your apartment. As if on autopilot he goes to the fridge to grab what seems to be a half finished beer, downing it quickly before closing the fridge, letting his forehead rest against the cool white surface. This is your cue, you jump up and walk over to him, his back facing towards you as you slowly and quietly let your body envelop him, your hands snaking around his waist to rest there. 

You always hope that he can feel the love you’re trying to give him, words have never been either your strong points, you try to show your love for people with affection and touch. He tenses initially but relaxes into your hold, his own hands coming up to rest on your hands, fingers interlocking. You stay there for a moment, letting him match his breathing to yours, letting him know that you are there. 

This isn’t a new situation for Calum, his liveliness has started to fade over the last few months, at first it was gradual, it started with less enthusiasm for going out, no interest in your usual day to day traditions and overall being less affectionate towards you. You let it slide, everyone has their bad days, their bad weeks even, but it’s now coming up to four months of Calum’s every ounce of his entity sliding away. You spoke with him, of course you did, he brushed you off, explaining that he’s tired from rehearsing, doing promos and interviews. 

But as the days went by his shoulders slumped more, his eyes got darker and his heart got sadder. You knew his job was hard, there was no off moments for him, being a musician was a constant flurry of meeting new people, plastering a smile on your face all the time and not letting anyone down, no matter what. He tries not to show it, you can see that, him trying his hardest to hide his feelings from you, but you see right through that mask he has put on, the act he’s trying so hard to play.

“Sweetheart,” You whisper into his back, eyes looking up to his bleached buzzed hair, his forehead still pressed against the fridge, “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.” Comes a small, quiet reply from the man in front of you, his hands giving your’s a squeeze. 

You clutch on to him harder, wanting nothing more than to push every ounce of happiness you have in you into Calum, you would pay millions if someone, somehow could extract every piece of love, happiness and optimism from your veins, injecting it into Calum’s blood, letting it seep into his every crevice, filling him with everything he needs. You would give him the universe if you could, you would throw a lasso around the moon and give it to him, just like in It’s A Wonderful World. 

You’re suddenly pushed back as Calum stands up straight, still facing away from you he picks up a bag you noticed he had dropped earlier when he had trudged into the kitchen. He turns to face you, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your skin, a sigh warily escaping your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Love you.” He whispers almost inaudibly against the sound of your heart in your ears. He walks around you, heading straight for the bedroom, the soft click of the door exhaling against the walls, leaving you alone in the rest of the apartment. 

You leave him be, you know that he needs this time to himself everyday. You sometimes wish he would just let it out though, you would love nothing more than for him to just let it consume him for a moment, let this overwhelming sorrow inside him flow up and over his head, out onto the floor, where you would happily spend hours picking up the pieces for him.

Unfortunately for you though he’s never been one to overly show his feelings, always pushing every unnecessary feeling as far down as it would go, hiding it away from himself and the people around him, including you. You knew eventually this would come back to bite him, you tried to lessen the blow by letting him know he is allowed to express how he is feeling however he wants and he would always nod at you, smiling that smile that would make your stomach flip and with a quick kiss on the cheek, the moment would be gone. 

After about thirty minutes since Calum left you, you hear the bathroom shower turn on and you decide now is a better time than any to start cooking some dinner, hopefully Calum will feel up to eating today. You assemble and start to prepare a meal, stir fry was the first thing to pop into your head and really you’re not feeling up to preparing anything fancy tonight. 

You hear the shower finally turn off and the familiar sound of Calum rummaging around for his clothes follows and then silence. You always hope that he will emerge from your room every time he disappears into there and eight out of ten times does, those other times, well, you just let him know dinner is ready whenever he is. 

You sigh happily when you hear the bedroom door open, your back towards the sound of Calum’s steps padding along the wooden floor down the hall to where you are standing. 

“Cal, dinner will be ready in five, I’ve made stir fry tonight.”

You hear a croaky okay come from behind you and you turn briefly to give him a smile when you stop in your tracks, dropping the wooden spoon you were using to stir the cooked vegetables. 

Your eyes rake over your boyfriends appearance. Where there was once a buzzed bleached blonde hair style is now blue, the bright colour standing out against his warm olive skin, a stark contrast from his previous pale hue. You don’t know what to say as your eyes dart between his eyes and his very new hair colour. You now understand what was taking him so long in the bathroom. 

The silence is slightly suffocating as neither of you say a word, but you watch intently as Calum’s lip ever so slightly begins to tremble underneath your stare, his eyebrows pulling in together slowly and his hands coming to hold each other in an embrace in front of his torso. 

You take a few hesitant steps towards him, feeling the overwhelming sense that something is about to break, just like the feeling of static electricity before lightning strikes. And just before that lightning does strike, the thunder booms and the rain starts to fall and without hesitation you run around the kitchen island, the only thing separating you and the person who holds your heart. You capture Calum in your embrace as his knees buckle and he falls into you as you both descend to the floor, Calum’s long awaited tears flowing freely into your shirt. 

His sobs fill the room as he buries his head into your chest, his hands gripping almost painfully so onto your arms, your own silent tears streaming down your face. You hold him as close as he can possibly get, if you could enclose him into you, mould him into your own skin and blood you would, maybe then you could hold some of the pain he feels. 

You have no idea how long it’s been, the vegetables have burnt to a crisp, long forgotten on the stove top. Calum has quieted down, now only an occasionally sharp intake of breath or hiccup is all that comes from the man now resting in your lap, both still situated on the kitchen floor. You close your eyes, the stinging sensation easing as your lids meet, your hands are absentmindedly running through the newly melancholy colour, a light tinge leaving marks on your fingertips. 

“I’ve never known how to say how I feel,” His croaky voice breaks through the silence in the room, “So I thought I would show you.” 

You nod even though he can’t see you. He couldn’t find the words to express his pain so he laid it out for you on a silver platter. 

Blue. Disconsolate. Dejected. Depressed. Fearful. Sad. 

You feel the the words etch their way into your mind, one after another the story he’s being so desperately trying to tell you is now being laid out in front of you, a story book for you to read and decipher. You feel a slight weight being lifted off your shoulders as you realise this is a cry for help, a step to helping your boyfriend, your Calum, get better. 

You lean down to hold him as close as you can, your cheek resting on his sapphire hair, “I understand Calum, I understand.” 

He starts to cry again, you think these are relief tears at finally being able to show how he feels, so that now we can finally work together to make him better, to bring back the old Calum, to make him feel whole again. 

I understand. 

#5sos writing #5sos #calum hood #angst #my writing #5 seconds of summer #angst all up in here #calum hood fanfic #calm hood angst #5sos angst #5sos fanfic #5sos oneshot #calum hood oneshot

[candyheartharry]

Fall Apart - Part II: Bewitched

Author’s note: Hi dolls! 💘 Sorry it took me forever to get the second part up and ready, it took a while to get some inspiration for it, but of course as soon as I got it, I had it done in one day lol. Once again our series playlist can be found here, and if you’d like to be added to the tag list at the end drop me a message and let me know, feedback is EXTREMELY appreciated, happy reading ✨ PART I

Although you and Calum had shared friends, it wasn’t until the two of you started spending more time together that these two groups began to intertwine, but it was going to be just you while he and the band were all around the world on a small promo tour. You’d kept up with him a little while he was away, receiving occasional texts and snapchat videos from wherever he was, usually either a nice picture of the scenery or a video of him and the other guys doing something funny.

It had been a little while since he was away, and you really weren’t too sure when he was supposed to be back due to a few commitments they hadn’t quite confirmed before they left, so the most he could give you before he left was a two week window on when he might possibly be back home again.

In the meantime, one of your friends who worked for an art museum downtown had invited you to an early preview party for a new temporary exhibition that was opening at the museum, so since you had nothing better to do on a Wednesday evening, you got dressed up enough to try to not look out of place among donors to the museum and fancy people who had memberships. Since she worked there she had to be there early, so you were going to be arriving by yourself and meeting her there. As you made your way through the entrance after presenting your guest pass card to the attendant at the welcome desk, you promptly made your way to the bar to help yourself to your one complimentary drink of the evening.

You had tried texting your friend to let her know you were there, but knew that since this was technically a work event for her it might be a little while before she could respond and come say hello. Until then, you decided to take a look around the exhibit that everyone had come to see. Since it was an early preview, it was obviously packed full of people who you never would’ve imagined yourself at a party with. Many people who were leading discussions in small groups crowded around the ornate frames on the wall gave off the obvious vibes that they were professors of some sort, mostly due to their use of words like “tone”, “depth”, and conversations about color choices. Others seemed like doctors, or lawyers, or stockbrokers, or maybe multi-million dollar luxury real estate agents who had so much money they decided to make very large annual donations to the museum in the name of charitable giving. There were of course others who you could tell were just membership holders out for a nice evening, and now that you think about it, you were a little surprised you hadn’t run into any of your other friends, assuming that you weren’t the only one your friend Cora who worked there had invited.

After a while of doing your best to see what types of painting and small sculptures were in this new exhibit over everyone else crowded closely around them, you still hadn’t heard from your friend, so you decided to take a break from listening to conversations about “what this shade of blue here means versus the other shade of blue in this area” and made your way out of the gallery over to the elevators that brought you upstairs earlier. Once you entered the glass elevator, you decided on going up one level to the contemporary floor. When the doors opened one floor above, there was instantly a difference in the atmosphere, not just because this area felt more spacious and open, and the pieces were much larger and not in ornate gold frames, but the first room of the gallery was completely empty with the exception of two security guards who welcomed you once they realized they were no longer alone.

After admiring a few pieces near the entrance, you followed a distant noise across the first room into the next to see where it was coming from. The only sound in the otherwise quiet gallery came from a massive mountain of speakers stacked from the floor to the ceiling, playing very quietly, but playing slightly ominous music overlapped with a few various sound effects and dialogue from movies and TV shows every now and then. Something about how gigantic and illusive this mountain of speakers was drew you in, and you found yourself wanting to stop and listen rather than explore the rest of the empty gallery. Of course, since the gallery was empty due to everyone else being downstairs, the bench across from this colossal structure was empty as well. You decided to take up a seat across from the speakers and recorded a quick video of the scene for your Instagram story. After posting, you put your phone away in the small clutch purse you brought, and decide to enjoy the peace and quiet compared to the party full of people you don’t know that you had just left.

It was nice in its own way, the quiet accented by the almost white noise coming from the speakers. It should be unsettling, but it was almost calming. Something about it felt like it was putting you in a trance, it was something so monumental, it almost felt like it had a secret that if you watched and waited long enough it would let you in on what it knew.

“Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice interrupts your from your thoughts. You look up to your right to see Calum grinning down at you, dressed in a black and white striped shirt that looked very nice on him, and a drink in his own hand. “Oh my god, Calum, hi!” you exclaimed while you instantly broke into a smile of your own after you realized who it was speaking, and rushed to set your drink down on the bench to your left before turning back to open your arms up to him.

He accepted your invitation into your open arms, starting out for a hug before he was even properly seated yet, both of your arms wrapping around his broad back and he squirmed to set his drink next to yours behind your back so he didn’t spill it on you. Once his hands were free they wrapped carefully around you, pulling you closer into him.

“Oh my god, you’re the last person I ever expected to be here, when did you get back?!” you ask once you both pull apart.

“I got back pretty late yesterday! Did you come with anybody else?” he asks as he leans around behind you for the two drinks, handing yours back to you as he holds onto his own.

“No, it’s just me. I didn’t know anybody downstairs so I just came up here,” you told him. It was still just the two of you in the gallery with the speakers, which have gotten his attention. The backing track its playing almost sounds like music that should be playing in a horror movie when the antagonist is introduced, but the overlapping track is a scene from Pride and Prejudice.

“Damn, what’s the first song you’d want to play on these if you got to pick?” he asks, turning to you before he takes a sip of his drink. You look away from him and back up at the towering mountain of speakers across from you both and think about your answer.

“Are we choosing loud songs or sad songs?” you ask, needing to narrow down what type of answer he wants to know.

“Well my answer is by Cigarettes After Sex, so pick something different for variety’s sake.”

“Can I be super cliché and go with The Less I Know The Better, Tame Impala. You said your band, but what’s your song?” you ask, shifting your position a little so that you’re facing him a little more.

“Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby,” he replies, and even though it’s just the name of the song, for some reason hearing the way he says ‘baby’ gives you chills.

“So what brings you up to the contemporary floor in the first place? Didn’t want to hang out with all the art critics downstairs?” you ask to change the subject. “Oh, you posted on your Instagram, so I came to find you,” he replies casually, sending your heart into your throat, so you take a sip of your drink to try to calm down. “Plus some of the Picasso’s downstairs looked like they could’ve also been villains on Courage the Cowardly Dog, so,” he adds with a shrug, making you laugh.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, even though there was so much you both wanted to say. He wanted to tell you every detail about his time away: the cities they went to, the people they got to meet, how he spent time with his mother which made him feel the most like himself he had felt in a while, but he probably wouldn’t tell you about how about halfway into the trip he realized he missed you a little more than he normally missed his friends when he was away. You wanted to ask him all about what he saw in the countries he had left, he always had such a more interesting life than you did, but that wasn’t all you wanted to talk about. You wanted to tell him about how mundane your life was here back at home while he was gone, and that the most interesting thing you had done was meet up with an old friend from your hometown who was passing through on a business trip. You wanted to tell him how ever since he had been gone, you had been hearing his new song on the radio nearly every time you started your car, so it almost felt like his way of saying hello even when he wasn’t around. You wanted to tell him how the barista at the coffee shop inside the bookstore you both liked had asked where your friend was the last time you went, and how you realized you actually felt kind of lonely when you told her that he was out of town. Instead you both just sat in the silence for a little while more, and listened to the mountain of speakers play a scene from the 1996 Romeo and Juliet overlapped with organ music that sounds like it could be in a haunted house.

“I missed you,” he admits after a moment’s silence. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that his left hand is resting on the bench in the space between you two, and when he feels you noticed it he moves his hand ever so slightly closer towards you almost in an invitation that he wants you to take it.

“Sorry, I cant help it that I’m just so charming,” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder, which makes him laugh and shake his head. When he stops laughing and is just smiling softly at you still, you place your hand on top of his.

“I missed you, too,” you continue more seriously, giving him a soft smile of your own. “The stripes are a nice look, by the way,” you add after not so subtly checking him out. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look fucking amazing, but telling him that word for word would very likely get to his head.

He slides his hand out from underneath yours to properly hold your hand now, leaning down to place his drink on the floor before he guides you to stand up from the bench you had been seated at. “Do you want do dance with me?” he asks once you both are standing.

“Calum, this is literally a sample of a Pink Floyd song and dialogue from Titanic,” you try to oppose, setting your own now empty glass on the bench where you had been sitting. Instead, he guides you into a twirl while he shrugs his own shoulders.

“I know what I said,” he continues, reaching for your other hand and pulling you in so that you both are standing with your elbows bent and your joined hands are level with his chest, so close that if you were to let go you could reach out and touch him, but you knew better than to give in so you kept them safely joined in his in the space between you both.

In the daytime, the gallery is lit up from the natural lighting that the skylights allow, but in the evening, the darkness casts an inky blue across the room, with just a little light coming from the moon and from the occasional spotlights that illuminate certain pieces of the artwork.

“You’re supposed to say that I look nice too, you know,” you playfully point out as Calum guides you both around in a circle in the empty gallery in front of the speakers. He grins down at you before he extends his arm and lets go of your hand to guide you into a twirl again. After he spins you around he doesn’t join both your hands again, and places his free hand on your waist to pull you just a touch closer than you were standing before.

“You know I always think you look nice,” he replies. ‘Nice’ isn’t the word he wants to use, he wants to use amazing, incredible, entrancing, beautiful, captivating, but just ‘nice’ will have to do for now. Distance must have made you both a little bolder, because this evening there seems to have been an unspoken, but mutually recognized tension between you two. Staring into his eyes is almost too intense, even more so once you catch him looking away to glance at your lips for a moment, so you look away yourself to admire another piece in the gallery across the room.

You notice you’ve been in the gallery for so long now that the track on the speakers has looped back to the beginning, when you hear the same scene from Pride and Prejudice playing again. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” is the first line you notice has started playing back, and you notice as well that Calum has started to look around the room at the other art. You take the moment to admire how he looks in the shadows of the darkness, searching to see if he’s any different now than when you left him. His hair looks like it was recently cut a little shorter, and he’s gone back to black instead of a silvery blonde. You’ve always thought the contrast of the two reminded you of night and day, and now he’s gone back to night.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” repeats again, now mixed over the bridge of a Lana Del Rey song you both like. He notices the song and meets your gaze again. He almost asks why you’re staring, but lets it slide in hopes you’ll return the favor eventually and let him do the same someday without questions. This time he’s the one who notices your gaze down to his lips, seeing if his smile still starts on the same side of his mouth that you remember.

He inches his face just a little closer to yours, embracing the boldness he seems to have found in the time he was gone. “Hey,” he says softly in attempt to get your attention. Your eyes flash back up to his, and he notices how where you’re standing allows you to be lit up perfectly in the moonlight.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s unfortunately time to call it a night. Everything wrapped up downstairs a little while ago,” a security guard announces from the archway, causing you to both nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. “Okay, thank you,” Calum nods to the guard. He drops his hand from your waist and takes a few steps back to the bench to pick up your discarded cups. You reach for your clutch purse and hold it in both hands in front of you, following his lead back to the elevators once he asks if you’re ready.

He throws away the cups in a trashcan by the doors after pressing the call button, and shoves his hands into his pockets while you wait. When the doors open, he extends an arm in gesture for you to enter first, and he follows behind before pressing the button for the main floor. In the process, you notice the time on the silver watch on his wrist reads that it’s nearly 11:00 PM, meaning you and him must’ve been up there alone for nearly an hour and a half, and neither of you had realized. You press your back against the glass to try to ground yourself again after whatever that was between you that had just happened back upstairs. He doesn’t turn to you, and instead stays just a step ahead with his back facing you the entire short ride four floors down.

“Did you drive yourself or do you want a ride?” he asks as you two exit the building through the lobby. You both fall in step side by side across the courtyard outside. “Oh, no, it’s fine, I drove myself. Did you park in the deck across the street?” you ask in return.

“Yeah, I’m over in that one, Cora gave me a pass for a reserved spot on the first level with my invite, did she give one to you too?” he replies, referring to your friend who had invited you both in the first place, and ended up never seeing the entire night. You nod in reply as you both make your way to the crossing. You had thought for a moment upstairs he might’ve been about to kiss you or say something at least before you were interrupted, but if he was going to act like everything was normal, so were you.

As you make your way into the parking deck across the street, you notice your cars are both just a few spaces apart from each other. You both stop in the empty spaces between to say goodbye before going your separate ways. “Let me know when you want to get coffee at the bookstore again, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to go,” he says after a moment.

“I’m ready whenever you want to go! The girl who always rings us up was asking about you the last time I was there,” you tell him, which makes him smile. It’s always nice to hear the home misses him just as much as he misses home whenever he’s away.

After you get your keys out of your purse, he holds open his arms to wrap you in a hug before you go, and you step into the space you’ve missed so much while he was gone. You close your eyes as he buries his head against your neck, pulling you in for the most proper hug you’ve had in a long time. You don’t realize it at the time, but the last time you’ve felt so secure and safe while wrapped in someone’s arms was his own the last time you saw him at his house the day before he left for the airport.

“Get home safe,” he requests, rubbing his hand across your shoulders before he lets go. You still feel so electrified from whatever sort of trance you both must’ve fell under in front of the speakers earlier that you can’t let him leave before giving a quick, still friendly and as casual as you can make it kiss to his cheek before you step away from him. You tried to act as if was an old habit between you both, your usual routine whenever you part ways, but you’ve never kissed his cheek before, and you both know it no matter how hard you try to not acknowledge it. Once you’ve stepped back, he doesn’t know what to say, and all he can do is blink at you for a moment.

“Be safe, I’ll see you soon. Let me know once you get home,” he requests again in attempt to snap himself out of it while he takes a step backwards towards his own car. You nod and ask him to do the same, heading around to the driver’s side of your own car in the process. Once you’re both safely in your own cars, you give each other a quick wave from the window before you go your separate ways.

You were all he could think about while he was gone, and now that he’s back it seems that you’ll be all he thinks about while he’s home as well.

tag list: @yessii-i @rexorangecouny @calssunflower @notsooperfect @outofmylimitcal @ayee-style @madbomb

#fall apart #writing #hood #calum hood #calum hood 5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood one shot #calum hood fic #calum 5sos #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum imagine #calum fic #calum one shot #calum series #calum hood series #5sos fic #5sos one shot #5 seconds of summer #calum angst #fwb!calum #slow burn fic #slow burn #angst!calum

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep ramble 6x01

The waiting, the anticipation, the trying not to pass out every time the Younger team posted some ridiculously next-level pic or gif or clip...it was all leading to this, the season 6 premiere! The sheer joy and elation I feel from seeing new footage and new moments for these characters takes me by surprise every single time. I am perpetually thirsty for this show and there is not much I delight in more than drinking it all in as it unfolds. “Big Day” most certainly did not disappoint, it was a fast paced sensory overload and didn’t hold back in setting a whole lot in motion straight out of the gate.

What is interesting to me is that so much of this first ep had been included in the official trailer and other promos, so in a way I felt like I’d seen lots of it but also it was all new because I didn’t have the full context of any of the bits. Take the opening scene, for example - we had seen part of it in the First Look table read, part in the trailer, part in other promos, yet there I was trying not to catch on fire in those first two minutes because it was h.o.t. I am a sucker for a coming-up-behind-the-person-while-they-get-ready-in-the-mirror scenario and this season opener raised it a notch by putting Charles in a pair of boxer briefs, you know, to emphasise the morning situation (and the abs situation lbh) while giving us the dual angle of the mirror and the foreground just to make sure we could see all that was happening (noted and appreciated). My brain is still not computing Liza and Charles as an actual out-in-the-open couple so the whole ‘I know why your neck is sore’, ‘as long as you’re in [the bed] when she gets home’ (this talking in the third person thing they’ve had going on since that fountain scene in the finale = YES), chatting about the day ahead, intermittent kisses, arms wrapped around each other...I’m sorry, what were we talking about? Oh yes, very good scene, 5/5 would recommend.

I am thrilled at the way Liza just dropped the ‘love you’ so naturally, it was exactly the right way for that to happen considering how long these characters have been doing their dance. Dare I say that I loved it even more when Liza told Kelsey she loves her in the office and Kelsey said ‘aw, you didn’t even run away’. Lol. Such a great tie in and I am really feeling the Kelsey/Liza dynamic in this ep right from the get-go. From the moment they’re walking up to the office together, the support they’re showing for one another is so evident and adding Lauren into the work mix is going to be fab. Lauren may have only been in the ep for about a minute but as always she makes such an impression, me and my English degree feel seen. I cannot WAIT to see her relationship with Diana grow and also, did I miss Zommy being a thing? Is this Zaddy but flipped? 

As always Liza has her relentless belief in Kelsey, but it is so nice to see Kelsey stepping up to reassure Liza that they will make sure the company is stronger than ever and showing that she respects Liza’s relationship and is also supporting her in her new role. I really hope this continues throughout the season and I appreciate that the writers may be responding to the somewhat lopsided friendship we were seeing last season. I enjoyed both conversations about clearing desks way more than I probably should have and I am as happy as Liza that she finally has an office with an actual door that closes (p.s. here’s hoping these very specific references are alluding to future door shutting and clearing desks because I am trash and I know you’re all thinking it).  

Of course we couldn’t have Liza getting too settled before Quinn appeared to drop the bomb that Page Six are running the blind item with her age printed as 28 and that the entire Charles stepping down so there would be no more lies/celebrating Liza rally was only ever really going to be on Quinn’s terms. I was SO hoping that Quinn and Liza could become friends. I saw such potential in the finale, however I also see that this stays consistent with the ruthless business woman we were presented with, who is only in it for herself. The way Quinn says ‘let’s not make this a pity party about ageism’ with such contempt is a stark contrast to the ‘ageism is wrong’ mantra from the last time we saw the character and I actually gasped. Laura Benanti is going to play this evil turn so well that I am now officially excited to see Quinn’s true colours, I love a deliciously dodgy character (shout out to C.Sussman the real MVP). I do wonder if the whole glass cliff phenomenon we learn about during this ep is actually going to end up being Quinn’s M.O, especially after the finance meeting when she told Kelsey to enjoy making cuts before going to get on a plane *insert shrug emoji*. The justification for keeping the age thing on the DL was legit, Kelsey’s ewww at the idea of banging the boss was so in character and props to Liza being all ‘excuse you and your ewww’, but just in case we needed convincing that people would assume the 28 year old in the story was Kelsey, enter Diana. 

It had all started so well, the day that is. I really liked how Diana was supporting Kelsey as the boss when she first arrived at work and Kelsey saying she wanted to talk to Diana about hiring Lauren, a glimpse at the way these women are going to work together. But let’s put all that on hold while we recount the shattering of my heart into a million pieces. First of all, Diana’s immediate assumption that Kelsey ‘bottomed her way to the very top’ (that was brutal and I think all our jaws were with Quinn’s in hitting the floor in that moment), followed of course by Liza running after her, Diana not wanting to hear any excuses for Kelsey and the great office reveal as Liza tells a room full of colleagues, who may or may not have all started that day because who are all these people and what do they do, that she is the 28 year old associate having an affair with the publisher. It was momentarily comical until Liza turned to see Diana’s expression. My heart hurts even thinking about the scene that follows as Diana reassures Liza that it’s a story as old as time, the assistant sleeping with the boss, but as Liza continues to try and explain you can actually see Diana shutting down. Miriam Shor deserves every freaking award for the way she conveyed so much just with her eyes. 

Diana meeting with Redmond (what a treat having him in the premiere too!) absolutely epitomized how much value this show can get out of a short scene that’s well written and wonderfully acted. The entire exchange, from Redmond wanting the goss on the regime change (I love that he wasn’t even available but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt and asking whether Kelsey’s feet touch the floor in Charles’ chair, all the LOLs), to Diana asking him to put the word out she’s looking for a new job (one of my fave lines of the ep, ‘oh Redmond, if I wanted it kept quiet I would’ve never come to you’) was an utter joy to watch. Despite the brevity, this scene captured the real feel of Younger for me, the setting, the conversation, something about it just oozed that essence that has been running through the entire series, almost like a familiarity that re-orientated me amidst all the newness I was trying to get my head around.

There was something so domestic, in the best possible way, about Enzo opening the door to Kelsey and Liza and I adore that they went to Diana’s apartment in the hope of finding her. Kelsey being warned by Zane not to lose Diana was a really surprising but lovely moment, I enjoyed their scene a lot; Kelsey admitting how hard the job is, Zane being open about trying to figure out his next move (we now know he’s not at Chicky...lol the comment about his dicky), I see the set up and it’ll be interesting to see how their relationship will play out this season. So for now Zane is being a friend to Kelsey and it was thanks to this that she and Liza were able to find Diana at Marie’s Crisis and we were blessed with the most surreal Younger experience to date, a rendition of 9 to 5 which we’d already seen prior to the ep but I will happily watch as many times as is offered. And while the Dolly tribute was an absolute treat, the part of this scene that lingered with me was prior to that, when Kelsey and Liza first find Diana and Kelsey tells her how much she respects and values her (my Kelsey love in this moment is possibly the realest it’s ever been). 

As Diana explains that the problem is she’s not a millennial, my fragile heart actually broke. I understand on the one hand that Liza revealing her age in this moment may have been too much on top of the Charles news, but the other part of me wanted and needed her to take Diana, sit her down and tell her the whole damn truth. I said it at the end of last season but at this point, Diana not knowing about Liza’s age feels cruel. I understand Liza not being able to declare her real age publicly but there’s absolutely no reason she couldn’t tell Diana. I am hoping that she will find out in the very near future because I feel like Diana Trout and Liza Miller both openly in their 40′s will be next level and I need this friendship please and thank you.

You know another friendship between people in their 40′s I love? Bob and Charles. So imagine my delight when this scene started and we have Bob’s tiny mind being blown as he discovers that the woman Charles has been speaking to him about for the past 4 years is actually Liza, ‘the yodelling mom’. So we have Bob giving Charles some real talk and the mirroring of Charles starting over to Liza way back in season 1 is duly noted, but if you look up Swoon-worthy in any dictionary you will in fact see a clip of Charles saying ‘I can’t explain it, when I’m with her I feel...free’ playing on a continuous loop. This show and these lines I swear, RIP: Me.

As I’m sure you have gathered, this ramble is not following the chronology of the episode, so I want to jump back to a scene that I have been waiting for with a ridiculous amount of excitement and that is the Maggie and Charles meeting. I cannot explain why, but my desire to see these two meet has been strong and unrelenting and the fact Charles wandered into the lounge with his shirt open and completely unaware Maggie was there was everything I didn’t know I wanted. I appreciated Maggie’s appreciation of the male form but boy she sure didn’t waste any time getting her grill on. I do love how ferociously protective of Liza Maggie is and I get that there is clearly the need to set in motion a potentially ominous foreshadowing, but truthfully, this scene felt too rushed to me. Like, what happened after Maggie said ‘no-one ever does it on purpose’? Did they sit there awkwardly in silence? Did Charles ask Maggie if she wanted to do the quiz in the newspaper when he got to that part in his cover to cover read? I wanted more but I also felt a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a little more lightness in their first meeting. I have no doubt we will see more of them interacting, so hopefully we will still get Maggie and Charles bonding and becoming friends.

Maggie’s friendship with Josh is still one I really enjoy and the conversation about getting a paternity test was a nice way to bring Josh, Maggie and Liza together, bonus points to the use of the phone assistant to create that great ‘things to do in Wililamsburg’ moment. I have to say, Josh and Clare’s conversation when she was getting him up to speed and he felt the baby kick was lovely. His joy and disbelief was palpable. I found the whole scene to be really beautiful and I am one of the people who was always a fan of Clare, I really liked her and Josh together and I still feel like they have a really great, natural chemistry. I also felt like Josh being the dad was never really a question because I simply cannot see the point in bringing back pregnant Clare if he wasn’t, but Kelsey’s ‘holy shit’ reaction was great as was the conversation that followed between him and Liza. 

I really enjoyed their banter about Liza being a baby whisperer and her reassurance that ‘I got you’, I desperately want to see this relationship as a true friendship because the potential is there. But I gotta say, I’m a bit conflicted about Josh bringing up the fact that they broke up because Liza didn’t want him to give up having a kid and suggesting that they could be together if she wasn’t with someone else. I appreciate that it is realistic that this news would make both Josh and Liza reflect on their relationship given that having a baby was a significant reason for them breaking up, but bringing it up then and the implication that if Liza was single now they could be together just sort of ruined the moment for me. And it’s nothing to do with me wanting Liza with Charles, regardless of who she ends up with or without, for me this is how trying to keep love triangles alive in tv shows starts disrupting character and story growth and progression. 

I wanted to hear Josh talk about feeling the baby kick and for Liza to tell him some funny anecdote about when she was pregnant and was kicked in the bladder and peed herself in the supermarket. I realised I was feeling a bit resentful that I got pulled from this moment of enjoying the current place their relationship is at and back into this whole ‘look what we could have been’ because it feels tiresome and stagnant, but I’m sure there are many fans who feel differently. I liked the echo of Josh’s ‘timing’ by Liza. I felt like hers had a different meaning, that timing was bigger than just their singledom and parenthood aligning. I still overall really enjoyed their interaction, and I am looking forward to seeing how this relationship moves forward this season.

Liza bringing Diana coffee was the perfect way to show that things will be ok between them (until the age reveal that is...and yes Diana, I agree re: Liza’s outfit) and I’m quite sure that necklace Diana is wearing can be seen from space. I do like it when it feels like the balance has been restored and this was only made better by the phone call from Maggie to share the new bed arrival news. I feel like Maggie might be warming up to Charles after this.

Full disclaimer: this part will contain gushing. I tell you, this end scene of the ep was just too much. The expression on Charles’ face when he opened the door to Liza, ugh GUSH, such pure delight to see her and her joy in receiving the gift that she thought was nothing more than a joke, GUSH. Seeing these two so candid and giddy is everything. How far our Liza has come, from when we first met her and she was worried she’d forgotten how to have sex to now unabashedly telling the man she’s with that she thought she’d spend her lunch time thanking him in person (there are so many dirty puns I wanna use here but I shall refrain). I love their continued openness as she acknowledges missing Charles at work and he misses being there, but the way Charles’ reciprocation of Liza’s ‘love you’ from the start of the ep is delivered, I may have actually melted. As in, I am now liquid goo. Liza’s reaction as she asks ‘did you just tell me you love me?’ is divine and while we’ve heard the ‘I’ve pretty much had feelings for you for 16 years’ in numerous promos, Charles’ ‘long enough to know’ was what led to any remnants of my heart not shattered by the Diana ordeal to explode.

Zane’s interruption is only acceptable because Liza’s ‘hello’ is so damn hilarious and I love that they are two grown ass adults who were busted making out. And while I know that we are left with a lingering sense that Charles and Zane are up to something potentially secretive/shady as Liza leaves, I am HERE for Charles and Zane working together. I love the idea of Charles and Zane vs. Liza and Kelsey. I have no idea if that is where this is going, but I do know this smells of a set up for some serious DRAH-MAH and ngl, I am in 100%.

So all in all, what a cracking start to season 6. SO much going on, I think we’re in for a wild one. 

#youngertv #younger tv #tv show #ramble #review #6x01 #team charles #younger season 6

[welllpthisishappening]

For a Good Cause (1/2)

Emma wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t worried. She was maybe, kind of, sort of ridiculously excited. And just a hint anxious. Because she’d spent years watching Killian play on Garden ice and was almost getting used to Matt playing on Garden ice, but the thought of them playing together on Garden ice was enough to leave her heart beating just a hint faster than usual. 

Add into the mix absurd trash talk and ridiculous bets and handmade signs and Emma wasn’t sure she was going to get through the day without setting some kind of record for sighing dramatically. 

At least it was for a good cause. 

Rating: T. They banter. They kiss. They scandalize their kids by flirting.  AN: HAPPY HOCKEY SEASON EVERYONE, LET’S HOPE THE RANGERS AREN’T HORRENDOUS THIS YEAR! It’s time for me to get overly invested in the success of this ridiculous team and that, by extension, means it’s time to start posting an absurd number of words about the fictional version of the New York Rangers and this world that, seemingly, will not end. So, over the summer Zucc and Henrik hosted a charity hockey game and drafted their friends and it was as ridiculous as that sounds and both @optomisticgirl and @alicerubyfloyd were like “What if they did this in Blue Line?” And several thousand words later, here’s this. Time-wise, it’s July 2041, which makes Roland 31, Lizzie 24, Matt 22, Peggy 19 and Chris 13. Killian’s POV on Sunday. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

“Sit.” “I can’t. Everyone is late.” “Wandering around this arena is not going to help.” “I don’t care.” “Swan.” “Killian.” Emma spun on the spot, pulled out of her pace mid-pace by several fingers around her wrist and the overwhelmingly effective smirk on Killian’s face and it wasn’t, technically, in the arena. He didn’t mention that. He probably knew it’d stress her out.

And that wasn’t even really the right word for it.

She wasn’t stressed out. She’d barely planned anything, was so used to doing events like these now she could probably come up with the schedule in her sleep and Merida had done most of it anyway. Emma had just agreed to do some Garden of Dreams promo and make sure the banners got to Chase Square on time and call someone in facilities about getting actual podiums set up.

That had been the most difficult part.

Stressed wasn’t the right word.

And it wasn’t worried either. She’d watched Killian play hockey for the better part of the last three decades and watched Roland play and Matt play and every single person that was, eventually, going to show up and stand by those absolutely absurd podiums was incredibly good at what they did.

They got paid millions for it.

Emma wasn’t really sure what emotion she was – unless it was generically annoyed because everyone was seriously late and Merida looked like she wanted to throw her phone at the will-call window behind her – but it might have just been some strange mix of nervous and excited and, well, mostly, nervous because she’d watched them all play hockey, but she’d never watched them play hockey together.

And she wasn’t sure she could handle her husband and her kid playing on the same ice at the same time.

“Swan, I can’t actually tug you down, it’s going to hurt my arm,” Killian muttered, and they both knew it was a great, big, enormous lie because he was probably in as good a shape as he’d been when he was playing. Maybe better. Well, no, maybe not that, but he still ran through Riverside three times a week and Emma was having more and more trouble thinking when she kept noticing new flecks of silver in his hair and--

“You’re trying to distract me,” she accused.

He nodded. “Yes, I am. Is it working?” “Not really, everyone is late.” “Or we’re just impossibly early.” “Is that really the word you were looking for?” Emma asked, hating whatever her voice was doing because his thumb had started tapping against the back of her wrist and she was ninety-two percent positive he didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t think he even realized.

“I’m not really worried about the specifics of my sentence structure,” Killian said. “This is going to be fine.” “Of course it is.” He blinked. And his lips twisted, eyebrows pulled low when his eyes flashed up towards hers and Emma tried to make sure her smile looked as confident as she felt. That was one of the emotions she was feeling, she was certain.

She was confident. It was a great idea and it was going to be great and Garden of Dreams was going to make a shit ton of money for an anniversary thing that definitely deserved a charity hockey game with Rangers legends and some of the biggest names in the league today.

That’s what the e-mail blast had said.

Emma wrote it herself.

The whole thing had been her idea. She was pretty positive that was the only reason she wasn't freaking out. And she was having a lot of thoughts about Killian in uniform again. That were probably not appropriate for a game that also included her kid and her friends and Roland Locksley.

“Wait, what?” Killian asked, and Emma’s smile widened.

“Yeah, didn’t expect that at all, did you?” “I have no idea what the hell is going on now, love. Can you honestly sit down though, you’re going to do damage to the ground.” “The stone ground?” “Yes. Sit, Swan.” She rolled her eyes, but let him pull her towards him and she probably should have expected it – there was, after all, several decades worth of experience to all of this, but Emma wasn’t entirely sure if they’d ever made out in Chase Square and she gasped when Killian tugged her onto his legs. “That can’t be safe, pre-game,” she mumbled, appreciating whatever sound he made when she tried to get more comfortable.

“You’re going to make me think you don’t think I’m game ready.” “You were the one going on about the state of your arm,” Emma challenged. She twisted again, slinging an arm around his shoulders so her fingers could find the back of his hair and they really were there impossibly early.

“Ah, but we agreed that was a distraction. And this conversation makes no sense.” “Slow on the uptake, Cap.” He arched an eyebrow, letting his head fall forward so his lips landed on the curve of her shoulder and Emma’s emotions settled into something that felt a hell of a lot like flirting. Merida was going to throw her phone at them.

“I’m still waiting on that explanation, love,” Killian muttered. “The game’s going to be fun. We raise some money, we score some goals, we impress loved ones.” “Loved ones?” “I am consistently and only ever trying to impress you. Who I love. Quite a bit in fact.” “Is this still part of the distraction?”

He made a contradictory noise, mouth still pressed against her skin and there hadn’t been much argument about naming him captain of one of the teams. Emma wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really stopped being captain of the New York Rangers. Or would. Any tense, really.

There’d been some discussion about the other team and it took, exactly, ten minutes for Robin to sigh dramatically and agree to Merida’s request – possibly because Regina had turned towards him and her eyebrows didn’t move at all when she glared. It was incredibly intimidating.

“It’ll be good for TV,” Merida promised. “Plus don’t you want to brag to Cap when you come up with a different team?” “Wait, what?” Robin balked.

“I mean...you’re going to have to stage a draft.” A draft. For a charity game. On Garden ice. In the offseason. With all proceeds going to a very good cause and an absurd amount of signed merch that was piled in Emma’s office and had recently migrated a bit to Matt’s old room because there was so much and Chris had only argued a little bit about helping.

He was thirteen he argued about everything.

There’d been more talking after Merida’s announcement, more planning and way too much trash talk amongst a group of former and current athletes than Emma entirely expected, but they were all way too competitive and it was only a matter of time before someone made a bet about something.

Or several things.

There’d probably be multiple bets.

“Swan,” Killian said, drawing out her name and pulling her out of memories and she startled against his chest. It was enough to work another groan out of him. “Look who’s being incredibly distracting now.” “You’re going to scandalize Mer.” “She’s way too busy trying to figure out who hit what traffic and how much she’s got to placate this growing crowd.” He waved his free hand, the one not currently wrapped around her middle, through the air and it was a testament to Emma’s current mental state that she hadn’t noticed the crowd or the media or the, frankly, ridiculous number of twenty jerseys around them.

She was still sitting on Killian’s right thigh.

“You think we scandalized all of them by whatever it was you were doing to my shoulder?” she asked, and she expected his answering laugh.

“Oh, absolutely. That was part of the distraction technique too.” “This is a very involved plan.” “Yeah, well, you were going to do damage to the ground by pacing right through it,” Killian countered. “So it seems to keep getting more and more complex with each passing moment. Also I know you’re worried they’re all going to be weird about this.” “Weird?” “Weird. Strange. Overly competitive. Absolutely refuse to draft Scarlet until the very final pick.” Emma’s jaw cracked when it dropped, fingers still where they’d been tracing patterns on the back of Killian’s neck and she swore his hand tightened around her middle. “Have you been staging secret draft meetings without me, Cap?”

He shook his head, but that felt like a lie too and the smirk was honestly absurd. It shouldn’t get more powerful as the years went on.

Merida had started yelling in the phone. Emma wasn’t entirely sure it was all English.

“No, no, no, no,” Killian stammered, and Emma had to move her eyebrows when she glared. She was never as good as Regina.

“You want to try that again?” “They’re not meetings, really…” “No, they’re, like, battle plans,” Roland said, appearing in front of them with a smile on his face and head-to-toe Flyers gear. Killian groaned against Emma’s shoulder. “Why are you guys sitting on the ground? Don’t we have chairs at this shindig?” “Please don’t call it a shindig in front of Mer,” Emma implored. “She’s stressed enough as it is. And where did you come from?” “And what are you wearing?” Killian added.

Roland crossed his arms. “I play for this team, Hook. It’s not like I’m going to show up in blue merch for this. I don’t care what ice I’m skating on.” “You practice that?” “Several times in the cab cross-town.” “Gina know you took a cab?”

The orange appeared to get stronger or brighter or some other verb that wasn’t possible because it was a shirt and not a sentient being, the longer Roland stood there. His eyes widened and his lips pressed together, and Killian practically cackled into Emma’s arm.

“If you tell Gina that I took a cab from the apartment, she’s never going to let me back into the apartment,” Roland hissed.

“Why didn’t you come with them?” “They were having breakfast when Henry and his kids. Because Henry is staying in a hotel and--” “--Didn’t get guilt tripped by Gina to sleep on the couch when he was home for the weekend,” Emma added, and she wasn’t sure if that was another laugh out of Killian or if he’d just never really stopped, but Roland’s face was almost too red now. “Go stand next to Mer, Rol,” she continued. “I’d like to compare shades of red.”

He stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian chuckled. “Thirty-year-old man guilt tripped by his mother and then embarrassed by it.” “Ok, I’m not embarrassed by it,” Roland argued. “I just didn’t know it was going to be some kind of point of contention or fodder for trash talk or--” “--Are we trash talking you?” Emma asked, the sound of footsteps moving towards them and it sounded like Merida had finally taken a deep breath. She probably should have helped some more. She was way too busy flirting with Killian.

“Well, yeah. Right, that’s what’s happening? Isn’t it? Also where is everyone?”

“That’s a very good question. We think that’s what Mer is yelling about.” “Trash talking the trash talkers, huh?” Emma shrugged. “I’m fairly positive she’s upset no one is taking this as seriously as they’re supposed to.” “That’s not true at all. Dad and Uncle Will and Hook had some kind of meeting about how they were going to draft. Uncle Will was super pissed they wanted to draft him last and Uncle Liam laughed so loudly the rumors were it was going to do damage to Hook’s phone.” “How do you know that?”

It could not have been safe for Roland’s skin to keep shifting between pale and flushed so quickly. Emma tried not to laugh. Killian absolutely did not.

“Ok, you can’t be annoyed by this,” Roland said, holding both his hands up and Emma widened her eyes. She figured Killian moved his eyebrows – based solely off the blush-type reaction in Roland’s cheeks. “I’m pretty positive Uncle Will told Mattie because he thinks Hook is going to draft Mattie first, which, you know, obviously.” “And that means what, exactly?” Emma asked, only slightly frustrated she hadn’t been involved in any of these pre-draft meetings.

She should not have been surprised that there were pre-draft meetings.

They were all way too competitive for their own good.

Roland sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. It sounded like Merida was growling on the other side of Chase Square. “I’m, like, sixty-seven percent positive Uncle Will thought he could get Mattie to persuade Hook to break the pre-draft agreement and then he wouldn’t be angry about getting drafted last or whatever, but I don’t think Mattie went for it. I’m like ninety-two percent positive about that.” “These percentages are absurd.” “Math’s not his strong suit,” Killian grinned.

Roland kicked at his ankle. “If that’s your form of trash talk you are crazy out of practice, Hook. And I only know because I talked to Mattie yesterday because--” “--You were trash talking?” “I mean if I lie are you actually going to ground me?” “As previously discussed, mate, you are a professional athlete. Who is thirty years old. I don’t think I’ve got that kind of clout anymore.” “Thirty-one. Technically.” “Math’s not his strong suit either,” Emma laughed, leaning back when Killian hooked his chin over her shoulder and there must have been hair in his face. He didn’t seem to mind.

Whoever groaned behind them, however, very clearly minded quite a bit.

And was holding two different signs.

“Aw, c’mon, seriously?” Peggy sighed, flanked by a clearly amused Anna and a slightly disgusted Liam. Elsa didn’t look surprised. Lizzie’s eyes darted towards Roland’s immediately. She was wearing orange too.

“Right?” Roland laughed. He took a step forward, cheeks still far too flushed to be healthy and curls that were far too long because it was the offseason and hockey players were notoriously lazy when there weren’t games to be played.

At least the ones Emma knew.

Her fingers moved back to Killian’s hair.

“You guys know there are chairs here, right?” Peggy asked. Someone laughed. It might have been Elsa. It was definitely Elsa. “Where’s Uncle Robin? Does Dad win by default if Uncle Robin forfeits the draft?” “No one is forfeiting anything,” Emma said evenly, tugging on the hem of Peggy’s shirt when she moved in front of them. It was appropriately team-branded. There wasn’t a C on her shoulder. Elsa was still laughing. “I think that’d actually make Merida start to cry.” “Does Mer know how to cry?” “I’d really rather not find out.” Peggy hummed in agreement, sinking onto the ground without ceremony and letting her elbows rest on her bent knees. “Yeah, that’s fair. She know there’s some crazy accident on the FDR? That’s why we were late.”

“Locksley doesn’t have that excuse,” Killian reasoned. “They’d probably be coming up 10th Avenue anyway.” “You some kind of traffic soothsayer now, KJ?” Elsa asked, Liam’s arm still around her when she moved and Killian was going to do permanent damage to his eyebrows. “How come you aren’t letting Emma sit in a chair?” “He’s worried about the draft,” Liam answered. Killian flipped him off.

“Hey, c’mon, your kid is sitting right there!” “I’m almost twenty, Uncle Liam,” Peggy said, and Emma wasn’t sure what her soul did at that, but she was glad she was perched on Killian’s right leg when it happened. His arm tightened again. “I don’t think that makes me a kid. And Dad’s not worried about the draft.” Sprained eyebrows. Honestly. Emma wondered where Ariel was. Probably stuck in some other part of Midtown. Or the Long Island Expressway.

“Is he not?” Liam asked, and they were all going to be sitting on the ground sooner rather than later.

Peggy shook her head. “Obviously not. You hear about that trash talk he was giving Uncle Robin after he made that mistake on TV?” She let out a low whistle, eyes bright and only a little disconcerting and all of their kids were far too charming for their own good. They knew it too. “Could barely talk about the game without laughing in the middle of his segment. Nah, Dad’s crazy confident in his team already.” “Maybe you’re the soothsayer, little love," Killian said, smile obvious in his voice and Emma groaned when he leaned both of them forward to read the signs in Peggy’s hands. “When’d you make these? And when did you see the segment?” “On the plane. I think the lady next to me thought I was legitimately crazy. You know how expensive markers are in the Eugene airport? Highway robbery, honestly.” “Wouldn’t it be, like, sky robbery?” Lizzie asked, and Peggy rolled her eyes. “You make everybody signs or just people you’re related to and making out with?” Peggy appeared to be trying to melt into the stone ground. Merida stopped talking for half a second. Emma was, at least, ninety-seven and a half percent positive it was because of the look on Killian’s face.

“Thanks a lot, Elizabeth,” Peggy grumbled, and Lizzie didn’t answer, just leaned further against Roland’s side. Peggy didn’t notice. She was far too busy staring at her hands. They were still holding signs. “Ok,” she mumbled. “It’s not really like that…” “What is it like then?” Killian asked. Anna laughed that time.

“Jeez, KJ. That was way too hardcore for whatever it is we’re doing. Where’s your other kids?” “Chris is with Mattie,” Emma explained. She wasn’t entirely sure if Killian could actually answer. Or formulate any thoughts that were not about getting immediate and concrete answers out of Peggy. She bit her lip.

“It’s really not like that,” she said again, glancing up under her lashes and Killian’s whole body sagged against Emma’s. Liam mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like overprotective idiot under his breath.

“You do not have a leg to stand on this situation, Liam,” Killian warned. “See if I draft you later.” “Please, I don’t want to play for your garbage team.” “Oh don’t do that,” Anna groaned. “You want to be on KJ’s team, Liam.” “How you figure?” Anna muttered a string of curses, most of them in a language that was neither English nor Norwegian, and something cracked loudly when she leaned back against Peggy’s side. “Ignore that,” she said, a command to the whole lot of them and there was another car door slamming from Seventh Avenue. “Also, you’ve got to be on KJ’s team because otherwise you’re going to have to face off against Matt and that’s going to literally be the single most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.” “And one time he fell off those rocks in Central Park and nearly sprained his wrist and had to come up with a lie to Mom and Dad about why he couldn’t move his hand without wincing,” Elsa added conspiratorially. Liam gaped at her. “Who’s the guy, Pegs?” Peggy gritted her teeth, glaring daggers at Lizzie. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.” “It’s not an anything,” Peggy shouted. “Margaret,” Killian muttered, and her whole body sagged forward when she exhaled dramatically.

“Who do we not know that’s playing in this game?” Emma asked. She tried to glance up through her skull when a hand landed on her shoulder and David grinned down at her.

“Your eyes are going to get stuck that way,” he said, Ruth plastered to his side and Mary Margaret was absolutely holding some form of baked good. “You know there’s a ton of traffic on the West Side, who decided to do this in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday?” “Ruby?” “God, remind me to yell at her about that, where is she?” “I have no idea,” Emma answered at the same time Peggy said “in her office, yelling at someone about the banners that very clearly aren’t here.” “How do you know that?” Peggy made a noise in the back of her throat. “She wanted to know where we were and if I was with you. And also where MD and Toph were.” “Are they not here yet?” Mary Margaret asked, already holding the Tupperware container out expectantly when Roland all but lunged at it. “And where’s the rest of the draft stock? Shouldn’t Robin be here? And Humbert?” Peggy froze. Liam chuckled.

“I’m not going to draft you solely so I can check you later, Liam,” Killian hissed, but his eyes didn’t move away from Peggy.

Emma reached out slowly, tapping her thumb on her lower lip in an effort to make sure she didn’t bite through it. “We don’t have time to get stitches, babe,” she mumbled. “And your brother will be mad if we steal his spotlight.” “Please,” Peggy countered. “The only brother’s who’s going to be mad about anything is Toph. Literally no one in the world has ever been more excited to see Dad play hockey.” Those emotions Emma was fifty percent certain she’d managed to corral a few minutes before reappeared in full force and the thought had crossed her mind more than anything else, the first and only time Chris would ever see his dad play on Garden ice and it made her heart do something and her pulse do something else and she wanted to scream and shout and jump up and down and one charity game should not be causing her so much personal turmoil.

She might make her own signs.

“Aw, we can’t even trash talk that,” Will said, and Emma wished they’d all stop teleporting to Chase Square. Peggy jumped up, concern over maybe boyfriends and guys who weren’t playing hockey, but had also grown up around hockey, forgotten as soon as Will moved towards them and he grunted when she threw the full force of her weight into his chest. “God, I’m not a hurdle, Margaret,” he mumbled, but there was a note of something in his voice and Peggy looked like she held on tighter. “You don’t have to try and jump over me.” “Shut up, Uncle Will.” “Aye, aye, ma’am.” She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, and David was only slightly vocal about not getting a reception like that. Will grinned at him over Peggy’s shoulder. “Why are you guys all sitting on the ground? Where’s Locksley?” “Stuck in traffic with Matt and Chris and Graham Humbert’s kid apparently,” Killian said, catching Emma around the wrist before she could swat at his shoulder. Will’s eyes widened.

“Dad,” Peggy whined. “It’s not like that. It’s...the only people who got signs were you and MD.” “Wait, wait, Scarlet and I didn’t get a sign?” Liam asked.

“Liam, I’m seriously going to check you tomorrow,” Killian said. Will’s eyes still had not returned to a size that was correct for a human being.

“And I don’t think Graham’s kid is in the same car as Chris and Mattie,” Emma reasoned. It wasn’t easy to stand up, particularly when Killian’s arm seemed intent on melding into her body, but she managed to shift back to her feet and Peggy scrunched her nose when she pried her away from Will’s chest.

Her hair brushed Emma’s mouth.

“You’re no help at all either,” Peggy grumbled. “And it’s really not like that at all. Jer and I are friends. Lizzie’s just a giant jerk and--”

“--Mattie was the one who told me he thought he had to talk to this guy in person this weekend,” Lizzie interrupted.

“What?”

Lizzie held both her hands up, a rare surrender from anyone with the last name Vankald or Jones. There were more footsteps coming towards them. And heels. It appeared Ruby had descended from her office. “If you tell him that I told you that Margaret Elsa, I will push you in traffic,” Lizzie hissed, Roland clicking his tongue and Will mumbling oh shit in between laughing.

“Why is MD talking to you about this?” “Probably for the same reason we always talk about this. And because he was really mad we accidentally liked that one girls Instagram photo.” There was a chorus of what from the ever-growing peanut gallery and Chris slammed into Killian’s side, barely managing to get up before a thirteen-year-old inadvertently concussed himself on his ribs. “Slow down, kid,” Killian mumbled out of habit, and it didn’t work. It never worked. None of the Jones Line ever learned to control their limbs.

“Dad, seriously, I need you to stop making that face,” Peggy continued, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of her younger brother when she was so clearly planning the murder of her older brother. “I can make a sign that says Jer and I are just friends if that’d help.” “I mean, it might,” Killian admitted. He flashed her a smile and his eyebrows twisted, tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth in a way that was supposed to be charming, but just left Peggy groaning against Emma’s side with more hair everywhere.

“And,” she added. “That Instagram thing happened literally years ago. MD was like--” “--A sophomore in college,” Matt finished, stepping towards them with Robin and the rest of the Mills-Locksley family close behind and both Emma and Will chuckled when Roland practically jumped to attention.

“Saw that,” she mumbled. He made a face.

“I was a sophomore in college, Margaret,” Matt intoned, hardly flinching when Peggy kicked and punched at him and Emma was going to end up bruised and battered by the end of this inevitable argument. “And that girl thought I was nuts after.” “Should have explained it better,” Peggy said. “And, you know, look at you now. I bet she’s really regretting that decision.” “She wouldn’t have had to if you and Lizzie were normal people!” “Ok, well, that’s just kind of rude, MD.” “Super rude,” Lizzie agreed, digging her chin into Peggy’s shoulder when she took a step closer. “Plus, who freaks out about that? A normal person would have thought you were just interested in--” “--Stalking her,” Chris finished. Matt lunged at him, more laughter ringing in the air and both Killian and Emma sighed, but that was as much reprimand as they were going to get out because they were incredibly behind schedule and their kids were some of the best trash talkers in the Tri-State area.

“We were stalking here a little,” Lizzie admitted, the smile on Chris’ face growing with every passing minute. “You late because you were stuck in traffic or because you were watching film?” Chris stopped laughing. And Matt froze, a picture-perfect impersonation of Killian being caught mid-lie that was absolutely, positively not on purpose. Emma’s emotions could not handle that day. Peggy nearly fell over when she cackled.

“Oh God,” she mumbled, shaking her hair away from her face. “You don’t get to say anything to me for the rest of the weekend, MD. I can’t believe you almost messed up Mom’s event because you were showing off for Toph. That one goal against the Pens was not that impressive, I promise.”

Matt blinked. And it took Emma, approximately, three seconds and one emotion-fueled gasp for everything to click.

Because no one had ever been more excited for Killian Jones to make his return to Garden ice than Christopher Jones – even through all that thirteen-year-old teenage angst.

“Wasn’t me,” Matt muttered. “And that goal was insanely impressive and you know it.” “You flatter yourself.” “Wait until tomorrow. You’re going to be stunned.” “That so?” “Guaranteed.” “Care to place a wager on that?”

Matt’s smile was as wide as the entire goddamn island of Manhattan, eyes flashing and hair falling towards his eyes and Roland was already demanding to get in on that action too, Lizzie rummaging in her bag for a notebook to make sure the rules were properly documented.

Emma moved, fingers lacing with Killian’s on instinct and several other things that would make everyone in a twenty-foot radius groan and gag and Chris had three cookies in one hand. “Slow down kid,” she said. “Didn’t your brother feed you?” Chris nodded, bobbing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but then we were watching the film from the first Cup run and he was letting me practice that shot Rook took--”

“--In his apartment?” “Matt doesn’t care about his security deposit. You see his rookie signing bonus?” Emma scoffed, but she couldn’t argue and Chris probably knew more about the contract than Matt did. At least as much as Regina did. “And?” she prompted.

“And that was a really good goal at the end of the game, Dad.” Killian’s hand squeezed Emma’s. “Thanks,” he grinned, wrapping another arm around Chris’ middle and pulling him back to his side and there was the teenage angst, right on schedule in disgruntled noise form. “Nah, nah, you don’t get to compliment me and then try and get out of being properly parented in public.” “That sentence doesn’t even make any sense.” “You want to get on the ice later?” “I mean...obviously, but only so I can figure out how you got enough speed on that breakaway.” “Don’t expect too much out of him, Toph,” Robin said, a kid clinging to his side who did not appear to appreciate the amount of noise the Jones Line was making. “He was running on adrenaline and the end of the game and trying to impress your Mom.” “Gross,” Matt and Peggy yelled in tandem.

“True though,” Will promised. “Almost always for like eons.” “It has not been that long, Scarlet,” Killian objected.

“Hasn’t it? Time flies and keeps on slipping and all that. I got a question for you, Cap.” Killian hummed, caution in the sound and Chris’ eyes darted between the two of them like he was watching a passing exercise. “Who’s going to wear twenty in this game?” Will asked, and it was like someone had pressed pause or pulled all the oxygen out of the entire planet and Emma was not entirely prepared for Ruby to curse as loudly as she did.

“Aw, shit,” she growled, stomping her foot for emphasis. “I didn’t even think about that.” “And you don’t have to,” Killian promised. HIs hand was still a vice around Emma’s though, and Chris appeared to have turned into some kind of stone, the number on his back growing larger with every passing second. Or at least it felt that way.

“Hey, what?” Matt asked sharply. “That’s my number.” Killian shook his head. “That’s my number.”

“Are you kidding me?” “Are you?” “I’m not giving up my number,” Matt said evenly, and Emma wasn’t sure who laughed loudest or longest, but she had to resist the urge to glance at the ceiling because her kid never really tried to sound like Killian, but it usually happened that way more often than not.

Killian didn’t move, didn’t pull his hand away from Emma, but she swore he got taller or more intimidating and Matt’s shoulders slumped slightly. “If I’m going to play in this game, then I’m going to wear my number,” Killian said.

“Captain voice,” Chris mumbled, Matt rolling his whole head in frustration.

“See if I feed you again later, C,” he groaned. “Dad, is this a joke? It’s my number. Currently. I’m going to wear it in a couple of weeks when camp starts.” “Because he’s a professional hockey player now, Hook, you see,” Roland grinned, gaze darting towards Peggy when she couldn’t keep her laugh in her body.

“I’m well aware of what he is, mate. I’m just not entirely understanding why that’s got any bearing on what number he wears for this game.” “I’ve never worn anything except twenty,” Matt cried. “This is insane.” “Nah, I think that’s just you and Dad, MD,” Peggy said. “Also you’re both ridiculously superstitious. That might be the most insane part.” “That’s definitely the most insane part,” Lizzie agreed.

“Ah, that was nice backup. Sorry for you calling you Elizabeth before, it felt weird when I was saying it. I’d like to never do it again.” “I’d like to never hear it again.” “Done.” Peggy shrugged. “Maybe Uncle Liam can just check MD tomorrow instead. It was his fault anyway.” “Consider it done, Pegs,” Liam grinned, Elsa only groaning slightly at the guarantee. It didn’t matter. Emma groaned loudly enough for the both of them.

“You guys can’t check each other,” she said. “It’s a charity game. We’ve had this conversation, I know we have. I was there.” “We don’t know how to play any other way,” Will argued. Ruby was never going to stop cursing. That was probably what the stories would be about. “And I really, really want to check Cap.” “I’m not drafting you, Scarlet, I don’t know how you’re going to check Cap,” Robin said.

Will checked him. Without a stick.

“Scarlet, if you do that again, I will never let you on Garden ice,” Ruby threatened.

“Can you actually do that?” “You want to challenge it?” “I mean, not particularly.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ruby grinned, but that felt a little threatening too and Merida had finally hung up her phone.

“Are we all here?” she asked. Her hair was in even more disarray than Peggy’s. “Where’s Rook? And Humbert? Why did we invite Humbert?” Several pairs of eyes flashed towards Peggy, color rising in her cheeks and the toe of her shoe digging into the ground. “All of you guys are the worst,” she mumbled. “Can we focus on MD and Dad being crazy people instead? That’s way more fun.” “It is a little crazy, KJ,” Elsa said. “This is your kid. Wearing your number.” Killian narrowed his eyes. “A beacon of support, El. I can’t play on Garden ice if I’m not wearing my number. Peg’s right, it’s way too many superstitions.” “That’s ridiculous.” “You want to be responsible for the broken bones I’ll inevitably endure when Scarlet checks me?” Emma wasn’t sure what noise she made – a groan and gasp and possibly some kind of inhuman growl, but her head collided almost painfully with Killian’s shoulder and the twenty on her back was his twenty and they were arguing over possession of numbers.

“Wait, what?” Merida asked sharply. She looked like she was considering using the clipboard in her hand as a weapon.

“Nothing, nothing, Mer,” Robin promised. Killian’s eyes, somehow, got more narrow. “We’re super behind schedule, right? You look like you want to kill us.” “I don’t want to kill you. I want to know where Rook and Humbert are.” “Hey, hey, hey,” Phillip yelled, one hand in the air and Emma could just make out Canucks colors and Will was going to check Graham before he checked Killian. Before the game started. “We’re here, we’re here, Mer, please don’t curse us or anything. Did you guys start? Humbert was worried Cap was going to start without him so he didn’t have to draft him.” “Ok, I never said I’d do that,” Killian muttered, but that didn't ring quite true either and Peggy was biting her lip again. And doing an absolutely horrible job of avoiding Jeremy Humbert’s very obvious gaze.

“Right, right, God, should I be this out of breath before I’ve got to wreck all of you tomorrow?” “Wow, just starting real early with the trash talk, huh, Rook?” Ruby asked.

“I wanted to make up for lost time. Plus, I’ve got nothing on the Jones Line. Hey Pegs, when’d you land?” Peggy opened her mouth to answer, but Ruby was back to threatening and the media horde was starting to get restless and they really did need to draft a team. Preferably before Killian challenged Jeremy Humbert to one-on-one combat. Or Liam did. Or Will did. Or Matt did.

Peggy pushed her signs into Killian’s chest. “They both say skate fast,” she announced. “Because both you and MD are ridiculously fast and superstitious and I’m not that creative.”

Killian stared at her for a beat, those eons Will was talking about before seemingly passing by them just to prove a point or toy with Emma’s emotions. Peggy didn’t argue when he tugged her forward, brushing a kiss over the crown of her hair like she was a kid and not an even better athlete than her professional athlete brother.

“Thank you, little love,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go draft a team.”

That, however, proved to be more difficult than just standing at those absurd podiums with an absurd number of cameras pointed at them and Chris didn’t appreciate when Emma’s head fell to his shoulder. Peggy’s head was on his other side.

“I’m not actually a pillow person,” Chris hissed, while Ruby explained the rules and one player for every pick and please keep this rated PG and a few fans laughed at that. Robin won the coin toss to pick first. They literally flipped a coin. “God, P, stop digging your elbow into my hip.” “That is not where your hip is, Toph.” “Can you guys relax, please?” Emma asked, but it was drifting dangerously close to begging already and no one had even made a pick yet.

“Toph and MD didn’t invite me to their super cool, super hangout thing,” Peggy said. “That means I can do whatever I want with my elbows.” “I don’t think that’s entirely true, babe.” “And we didn’t know what time you were going to land,” Chris added. “So, like...move your elbow or I’m going to tell Jeremy Humbert you want to marry him.” Peggy jabbed him in the side, drawing a far too loud to be appropriate exclamation out of Chris that also led to him jumping to his feet and a shoulder slamming into Emma’s jaw. Killian’s head snapped up, both hands gripping the side of his podium with a wide-eyed gaze, like he was waiting for the inevitable broken bone or someone to find a stick somewhere and start hitting the other in the ankles.

Emma sighed.

And she almost didn’t hear it at first.

Peggy and Chris stopped arguing immediately.

“What?” Killian rasped, and Robin grinned like he’d already won the entire goddamn game.

“I said, with the first overall pick in whatever we’re calling this--” “--The summer classic, Locksley,” Ruby growled. “God, we’ve been over this.” “Right, right, yeah, that’s not very creative though.” “I’m going to revoke your captaincy, right here.” “Oh my God, Lucas, do it,” Will yelled, Liam shouting his own encouragements and Emma couldn’t actually see Matt anymore. He appeared to have slumped in his seat, Roland trying to pull him back up by the scruff of his own jersey.

“Say that again, Locksley,” Killian challenged. Robin’s expression didn’t change. “I’m drafting your kid, Cap. First overall, so, uh...congrats Matt, even better than your actual draft.”

Emma didn’t remember standing, only that she was and that was kind of a problem because her knees didn’t seem all that interested in functioning like actual parts of her body.

“It’s not like I didn’t get drafted, Uncle Robin,” Matt countered, but Robin shrugged and Ruby was trying to get him to come on stage so he could change jerseys. “Wait, wait, wait,” he sputtered. “This isn’t actually a joke?” “Please don’t call this event a joke, mini-Jones,” Ruby said.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ru.” “Yeah, sure you didn’t. I really need you to put this jersey on and pose for a photo. Like twenty minutes ago, honestly, but your parents were probably flirting and--” “--Hey,” Killian cut in sharply, and Emma hoped Ruby hadn’t done damage to any of her teeth when she snapped her jaw closed. “Alright, with the second overall pick in whatever the hell we’re calling this ridiculous game, I draft Roland Locksley. And I’m keeping my number, Matthew.”

Robin’s mouth fell open.

“Oh my God,” Ruby mumbled, head in her hands and Merida had dropped her clipboard on the ground. “Mini-Jones, I wasn’t kidding about the photo. That goes for you too now, Rol.” Roland saluted. “Sure thing, Rubes. You see what a better choice the number two overall pick is? Ready and willing to report for duty.” “You’re a kiss-up,” Matt hissed.

“And that’s an insult you came up with when you were eight years old. It still doesn’t make any sense now, Mattie.” “Aw, c’mon.” “Mattie Jones, going to lose more than half his faceoffs tomorrow afternoon.” “You’re a winger, Locksley,” Matt challenged, and Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, her two other kids enthusiastically cheering for whatever against the rules trash talk was preventing Ruby from staying on photo schedule.

“Who’s not going to score any goals tomorrow,” Peggy yelled. “Down with the Flyers! Fly away home, Locksley!” “That was kind of funny, P,” Chris grinned.

“Right? I’ve been waiting to use that forever. Who shows up in orange in New York? You look ridiculous!”

Roland ignored both of them.  “True, I am a winger, but you’re some kind of All-Rookie centerman, so that’s free bait to mock.” “That doesn’t make sense either! Yours makes less sense than mine did! At least I was eight, that gives me some more leeway to--” “--Guys, please,” Ruby groused. David was hysterical. The subReddit was probably already talking about this. Emma was pretty positive there was a live stream somewhere. “Locksley you’ve got to make another pick.”

“Of course, Lucas,” Robin said. “I’d like everyone to take notice that my draft pick couldn’t take his picture in a timely fashion because Cap’s draft pick stalled him.” “That’s your kid, Locksley,” Killian yelled.

“No, no, for the next forty-eight hours, that’s your right winger.” “Oh my God. I want Rook on my team.” “Cap, you can’t go out of order,” Ruby yelled, jumping slightly in frustration and Phillip was already standing up.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Rook, c’mere, you know how to take faceoffs?” “Are you kidding me, Killian?” Liam shouted. They were all, apparently, going to stand up now. “You’re going to draft a winger before you draft an actual centerman. Whose rookie record for faceoff wins stood for a very long time.” “He’d like the record to show,” Anna intoned dramatically. Elsa had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. It didn’t work at all.

“Yeah, how’d that work out for you, Uncle Liam?” Matt asked archly.

Liam crossed his arms. “Don’t get uppity on me, kid. I’m willing to bet at least twenty bucks and some form of food for both you and your constantly hungry brother, if I win more faceoffs than you tomorrow.” “What if we’re on the same team?” “And I’m not always hungry,” Chris objected, a choir of ehhs raining down on him.

“C, you literally ate an entire box of cinnamon LIFE this morning,” Matt sighed, refusing to acknowledge Peggy’s outcry at that. The media horde was going to have a field day with this. “Alright, Uncle Liam, you’re on. No matter what team we’re on. You win more faceoffs than me, I want food, real food, not street cart shit.” “Matthew,” several adults shouted, and both the media and fans laughed loudly.

“You got a deal, kid,” Liam said, finally sitting back down.

Ruby inhaled, shoulders moving with the force of it. “Can we take two seconds to focus on what we’re actually here to do?” she snapped. “Cap, you can have Rook, I honestly do not--” “--Hey, I thought there were rules,” Robin interrupted. He’d definitely done damage to several teeth when Ruby very clearly tried to turn him to stone with the force of her glare. “Fine, fine, fine, then I take Humbert.”

Graham flashed a cautious smile over his shoulder, and Killian groaned, slouching so his forearms rested on the podium.

“Hey, remember that time Humbert punched, Cap?” Will asked brightly. “That was fun. What good memories we’ve got, huh?”

“You’re not doing your draft stock any favors, Scarlet,” Emma chided. He winked at her.

Ruby had sat down at some point. This was going to get its own 30 for 30 based solely on the absurdity of it all. “Alright, Locksley,” she said. “Back to you.”

It went that way for what felt like several increasingly long eternities, Emma tugging Chris back down so she had something to lean on and he didn’t bother arguing when Peggy moved to rest her head on his leg. And Emma couldn't really say she was surprised. Even if she hadn’t known about the pre-draft meetings, she knew both Killian and Robin would absolutely try to pick Will last, but she hadn’t expected it to come down to him and Liam.

There was a considerable amount of cursing going on in Norwegian.

“This is honestly insulting,” Liam announced, not for the first time.

“And embarrassing,” Elsa chipped in. “Babe, you’ve got to sit down. The pacing thing is freaking me out and you’re only playing into KJ’s plan.” “I have no plan, El,” Killian promised, but his eyes flickered towards Emma and his answering smile when she mouthed liar was honestly unfair. “I’m merely weighing my options.” “You’re being a jerk is what you’re being, KJ,” Anna corrected. “Lording your power.” “You think Liam will pull a hamstring from pacing so much? Can’t be healthy or a guy of age.” “Oh screw you, Killian,” Liam seethed, wincing when he realized what he’d said. “Sorry, Lucas. Just like...tell the media not to listen to me or something.” “Yeah, I don’t think it works like that,” Ruby said. She was still perched on the steps leading to the podiums, but she’d coerced Matt next to her some time in between the tenth and eleventh pick and they both looked dangerously close to falling asleep.

Emma wondered how much film had actually been watched the night before.

“Seriously, Cap,” Robin sighed. “It’s not that hard. Pick Scarlet and live with your spotty at best defense.” “What the hell, Locksley?” Will seethed. “Listen, you’re more removed from the game than I am. By, like, actual seasons.” “Four seasons, Scarlet.” “Five, actually. Do you not know how to tell time?” “God, did you really play that long after I retired?” Will nodded quickly, sarcasm practically radiating off the movement. “Yeah, you’re old, Locksley. And you are notoriously terrible in the defensive zone, so maybe you’re the one who needs a defender in this game.” “Where are you trying to get drafted, Scarlet?” Emma asked.

“At this point, I genuinely don’t care. I just want to go before Leader, so I can brag about that for the rest of time and then we can all get some food somewhere.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Ariel said, perched on the same seat as Mary Margaret with what appeared to be cookie crumbs sticking to the pads of her fingers.

Ruby made a noise that was equal parts absurd and impressive. “Did you teleport here?”

“Snuck in during the whole who gets to draft whose child debacle. M’s fed me, but this has honestly taken several lifetimes, right? Did someone feed Chris? He’s probably chewing Emma’s arm off back there.” “He and Pegs went to get pretzels like twenty minutes ago,” Emma explained. “You hit traffic in the tunnel?” “Someday that construction will be over. Hey, Pegs, how was your flight?”

Peggy opened her mouth to answer, but Ruby clicked her tongue and Liam threw his head back and there really weren’t many fans left. They’d exhausted the fans with their nonsense.

“You’ve really got to pick, KJ,” Elsa said, a note of ancient command in her voice that made several next-gen children sit up straighter. “Just take Liam so Anna and I can freak out about it.”

Killian tilted his head, and Emma could almost hear the thoughts and the metaphorical gears, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do if that happened, but the world still didn’t seem to care because--

“I’ll take Liam,” Killian said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big and huge and emotional deal. “Need a centerman anyway.” “Wow, that’s a glorious show of support, little brother,” Liam muttered.

“Younger. And it’ll be easier for you to face off against Matt if you’re actually facing off against Matt.” “Jeez, Dad,” Matt mumbled. “That competitive streak knows no bounds, huh?” “You wouldn’t give me my number.”

“You going to score on a breakaway to impress, Mom?” Killian’s eyes flashed back towards Emma, standing again with an arm around Chris and something fluttering in her chest that might have been her heart or her pulse or the same thing it had done for eons because he still looked at her the same way he had all those same eons ago.

And she knew the answer to the question already.

“Every single time,” Killian grinned. Smirked. It was really a smirk. God, that worked so well.

Peggy gagged. “You better score a breakaway too then, MD. Show off that speed or something.”

“Yeah, well, you made a sign, right, Mar?” he asked. She nodded. “Alright, alright, well, I’ve got a distinct lack of cinnamon LIFE in my apartment now, so what do you say, Dad?” Killian quirked an eyebrow. “To?”

“A wager. Best breakaway has to refill my apartment with food because your kid depleted all my recently purchased groceries and probably will when he stays over again tonight.” “I’m staying over again tonight?” Chris asked, excitement obvious in every letter.

Matt shrugged. “I figured.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, ok!” “Hey, uh, not to spoil this undeniably adorable and only slightly debaucherous Jones family moment,” Will cut in. “But is anyone going to bother to draft me because it’s garbage you guys are being jerks about this.”

Robin laughed, jumping off the podium with an agility that was only slightly surprising. “Sure thing Scarlet,” he said. “I draft you, and if you let up a single goal, especially a Cap breakaway while you’re on the ice, I will check my own top defenseman, deal?” “Jeez, Locksley, you are insane when given any power. Gina, you know he’s like this?” Regina waved her hands through the air, a grandkid asleep on her shoulder. “I’m refusing to acknowledge any of this. I’m showing up in orange tomorrow, Jones, try and keep me out of the Garden.” “I wouldn’t dare, Gina,” Killian promised. He glanced back at Matt, a smug smile on his face and arms crossed over the twenty that really was both of theirs and Emma was going to hurt her neck shaking her head so often. “Alright, kid,” he said. “We’ve both got to try for breakaways, whoever gets it wins?” “What if you both get it?” Anna asked.

“Mom’ll judge,” Matt shrugged.

“No, no, no,” Emma exclaimed. “I am not doing that. I am not picking sides in any of this. This is absolutely insane and superstitious and I expect goals from both of you.” Killian laughed softly, covering more ground than Emma was entirely ready for and he was in her space almost immediately, lips on hers and a hand on her hip and the entire neighborhood probably groaned at that. “Deal, Swan,” Killian muttered, not bothering to move away from her mouth. “I’m totally going to win, though.” “God, that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” “This doesn’t answer the question though,” Anna pointed out. “If you guys both score on breakaways, then someone’s got to win the bet. Matt can’t be without cinnamon LIFE forever.” “God forbid,” Killian chuckled.

“I’ll do it,” Will said, a note in his voice that refused any questions. “I doubt either of them’ll score because my defense will be that good against Cap and Dr. J absolutely cannot cope with beating Cap, so I’m going to win by default. But I’m more than happy to judge if they manage to try it or whatever.” “Eloquent as always, Scarlet,” Robin murmured.

“Yeah, well you should have drafted me earlier. Can we eat now or should we stick around and scandalize the New York media some more?” “Nah, I think we’ve done more than enough of that,” Ruby said. “I refuse to share a cab with Cap and Emma. They’re going to make eyes at each other.” “Not true,” Emma argued, an arm around her shoulders and kids already groaning before she added. “We’re totally going to make out in the back of the cab, so…” Killian kissed the top of her hair. And hailed a cab. And made out in the backseat.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line one shots #CHRIS JONES IS REAL EXCITED TO SEE HIS DAD PLAY HOCKEY AND IT'S MESSING WITH EMMA'S EMOTIONS #everyone is a superstitious mess

[alexswift13]

Some days, things just click. You're on your 'game'. There's a flow. Almost magical. That's what happened on Feb 9th 2014, the day Taylor and I met. Just a few days before, I was in Iceland taking promo shots for my latest album Sparks with Jeremy Cowart. Here's a video Jeremy put together of our shoot. Michael (my fella, love of my life) and I also took the opportunity to have a mini break in this magical country, where not only did we catch the northern lights but we also surprise bagged a baby! Eight and a half months on, Taylor's new album is out and any day now, so is gonna be whoever's in my tummy...wait... was that a contraction?? Anyway... I digress... so I got a phone call saying Taylor Swift was in London, she'd love to work with me and the only day she could do (between 4 sold out 02 arenas!) was the day after we got back, Sunday. It was both unexpected and not at the same time as I'd heard Taylor was a fan a while back via this Time magazine piece but somehow didn't think it would actually happen. I love co-writing and producing for other artists and I was really itching to get back into the studio for something completely different after the marathon that was Sparks too....plus, you don't really say no to Taylor Swift do you?? So, Michael and I landed, he went off to shoot a film that week and i dusted off my studio in preparation for my day with Taylor. now... I was a bit tired after travelling and it was all rather surreal, so maybe I dreamed some of this but this is how I remember it. Taylor was dropped off at around midday and we greeted each other with what seemed appropriate, a big hug. I was half expecting such a massive star to have a huge entourage but very pleased to discover it would be just Taylor and I. Guitar in hand, this tall, immaculate, relaxed and friendly young woman (with from memory some big assed heels on) walks in and we go into the kitchen for the obligatory English welcome cup of tea. We get chatting away. It's cold in February here in this old house, so 'd lit the fire in the dining room and we continued in there. Taylor pulled out her guitar, saying she had a song idea that if I liked it, maybe we could work on that one. Great! I thought... a beginning. Because without a beginning, you have to conjure up one out of thin air and we had so little time. Taylor strummed and sang a first verse and a chorus. It sounded really good to me already, so I suggested we just go straight down into the studio and I'd start throwing some sounds at it. Maybe we could demo it up for a later time to finish? I made a session in Pro-Tools, we set the tempo we felt sounded good against her singing it in the room and I started to record noises. I really felt a driving simple bass line just following the chords would be good. Warm, bendy and a bit buzzy. That and a simple snippy beat created the backbone for me to build on with some instruments in my 'toy room'. For some reason I gravitated first to my set of BoomWhackers (a set of tubes you hit on the floor or against each other and they make a nice percussive sound). Taylor liked these and so in they went. Then, some of my trusy mbira. Such a lush sounding instrument and with very little can really bring some twinkle to a song without it becoming cheesy. Every sound that ended up on the song was preceded by sounds of delight from Taylor. That was my queue she was happy and for me to move onto the next sound or part. I've worked in the past with a few heavy handed producers (when I was around 17-20) which I really hated. With those experiences, It's very important to me that they are with every decision. We're in this together. That seems obvious perhaps but there are many artists who just get trampled on by various producers and perhaps that's ok with them but I can't stand it and I don't want to do that with anyone else. Anyway.. something tells me, Taylor wouldn't let that happen in a million years. I was editing and mixing the bits in, meantime Taylor had written the 2nd verse! Good going gals! Teamwork! It was time for a late lunch. I have to be honest here and say I had ever so slightly not done my homework on Taylor Swift but had done what I HATE others do of me, which is to pre-judge a person based on assumptions. I had assumed Taylor didn't write too much of her own music (as is the case with many young, extremely successful artists these days who sell shed loads of records) and was likely puppeteered by an ageing gang of music executives, working to formulas and spread sheets. How wrong was I? Totally clued up from a very young age (I had no idea what a publishing label even was at the age of 14 never mind moving my family to nashville so I could pursue a song-writing career!), hyper driven, hard working, really talented and a genuine lovely soul, with a few more boy troubles than she most but you can't get it all right all the time! So... lunch was fun and now back to the studio. We still needed a middle section. I fancied really stripping it down, quite moody. So we tried a few things out. One of which had me going over to the keyboard to suggest a slightly 'odd' chord progression as I do like a bit of that on my own records. I played it to Taylor and she quite clearly said "I think we're going to lose them at this point" and I said... 'wow... that I why you sell millions of records and I don't!' She is Taylor Swift and she knows best, so we stuck to the chords, I created a bit of tension in the music instead and then we could woosh into the final chorus from there. I learned that lesson again, keep it simple. I just never seem to remember it! Taylor, again knowing what she wants, fancied some Heap backing vocals, so first I had her sing in her now finished lyric and melody (of which she wrote pretty much all of by herself)... which she did in a couple of takes (and what you hear on the album) and I sang a load of Heap style harmonies, textures, rhythmic chants and things, which she loved. We then had a quick dinner, came back down to the studio and I 'bounced down' what we had recorded that day to a stereo file for her to take away with her. Taylor left about 8pm and we'd managed to demo up an entire song from scratch, whilst still managing lunch, dinner and chat! Quite amazing. Some times it just flows like a dream! Which is what it all felt like after she'd got in the car to go back to London. Here's what she wrote in an email to me that night. I'm sure she won't mind me sharing it. "Imogen, I've listened to Clean over and over and I can't thank you enough for today. It was one of the musical highlights of my life watching you work. This will be such a special song on my album and I'm so happy this all came together. Hope to see you at a show and if not, I'll come visit next time I'm over here! Taylor" I was so excited by the whole thing, I worked until 4am, singing in more vocal backups (my favourite being the last chorus 'and then the... ' line up high), tweaking sounds here and there and then sent it over to Taylor (hoping I hadn't gone toooo far) to which she replied.... "THIS VERSION IS AMAZING! I'm in love with all the vocal parts you added. Can't stop listening on repeat!! This song is unreal. Well done!" So there we go! High on life for a long while after but had to keep it quiet was torturous but the surprise was Taylor's to share for sure. I so enjoyed the whole experience and it gave me a new kinda energy having worked with this mega woman, force of nature. I can't thank her enough for taking a chance on me (I'm not exactly Max Martin you know!) and am so happy the song made it on the record (and feel lucky it's the closing track, coz that's a special spot) as I love it and would have been sad to see it 'sit on the shelf' (as some co-writes I've done in the past have!). I went to see her play live at the 02 the night after with a few friends. She was completely brilliant and we all adored her. Here's a photo we had taken after the show. Felt I wanted to share the experience, as it was a special one. I've also been reading the odd report or tweet here and there that the reason these lyrics to 'Clean' are so good is because I wrote the song with her but FOR SURE they are all hers she deserves all the credit! So congrats to you Taylor (if you're reading this) on the release of 1989. I hope it's a huge success (it's looking that way already) and brings you much happiness. I look forward to news of a man who's swept you off your feet and to introducing you to our baby girl/boy next time you're in town and fancy a cuppa in the english countryside! We will find out any day now! Thank you for everything. Soon to be, mama Heap. xxx

Imogen Heap’s day with Taylor.  a lot of people have collaborated with @taylorswift but none of them have explained the writing/collaborating process in details like Imogen did. 

A photo at Red Tour backstage!

and polaroid while making Clean!

#imogen heap #taylor swift #clean #collaboration #collab #duet #1989 #taylor swift ft imogen heap #red tour #polaroid

[fionnfanatics]

Request: Hey. I Love your Jack Imagines! I am reading every single one of them all day haha. Maybe you could do one, where Y/N sees Jack after they broke up a while ago. And it ends up with them getting closer again or something? 🤔

——————

It had been years since you had last seen him. 
You thought that Jack was in your past and would stay in your past. But here he was popping up everywhere. On TV, on radios, on the side of buses, on billboards.

His face was on nearly every Dunkirk poster in your city.

It was driving you nuts.

Jack had broken up with you after being together for 3 years, saying that he just didn’t feel the same way anymore. He said it would be best for the both of you if you went your separate ways and focused on your careers.

You called bull shit.

You had been so angry at him, calling him selfish for putting his acting above you. You’d been there to support him throughout school and his first roles, only for him to drop you once he got a major part on a TV series?

It felt like a stab to the heart.

You immediately scratched Jack out of your life, deleting his number, email, social media pages, and dropping off all his things. You never once looked back.

But now his face was everywhere and the tear in your heart ached for him. As much as you fought it, you wanted him back.

You’d never say that to his face though.

When you heard that Jack was in your city for a promo tour for Dunkirk, your heart had skipped a beat. But you quickly shook it off, not wanting to get your hopes up. What were the chances of seeing him again in a city of millions?

Apparently very high.

You were on a mission to get in and out of the grocery store and back to your apartment before the new episode of your favorite show started in an hour.

You were rushing up and down the aisles, hardly paying attention to where you were going. So when your cart crashed into another, you weren’t really surprised.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’ even payin’ attention to where-” When your eyes met those of the man you had bumped into, your words were cut off. You froze in shock, leaning heavily against the cart to keep yourself upright.

“Y/N?” The familiar Scottish accent sounded, nearly causing you to fall over. “Blimey, it’s so good to see ye. How have ye been? Ye look amazin’!” You just stared at him, trying to process what was going on.

He didn’t wait though, quickly rushing to you and pulling you into one of his famous bear hugs. He gave you a peck on the cheek and then pulled away while smiling at you.

“Jack, uh hi.” You spoke lamely, mentally smacking yourself. “Listen, I’m in a wee bit o’ a hurry. Wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got things to do.” You told him, finally gathering your wits.

Jack was frowning at you, but stepped aside so you could get to your cart.

“We haven’ seen each other in almost two years, surely ye could spare a few moments. I’ve missed ye.” Jack said, pushing his cart alongside yours.

“And whose fault is tha’?” You snapped, sending him a slight glare from the corner of your eyes.

“Alrigh’ tha’s fair. And I really am sorry about doin’ tha’ to ye. It was selfish and stupid of me. I was a complete numpty. But things have changed since then. I’ve changed. And runnin’ into ye today can’ just be a coincidence.”

“It doesn’ matter Jack. We’ve both grown up and moved on since then. It just didn’ work out between us, and tha’s fine. Ye don’ need to feel like ye have to apologize.” You told him, turning down another aisle. He continued to follow you, as persistent as always.

“Ye think I’m standin’ here because I want to apologize? I’m still here because I want ye back.” Your hand froze slightly over a box of pasta, before you quickly composed yourself.

“I don’ think tha’s goin’ to happen.” You responded, keeping your back to him. You were afraid that if you looked at him, your resolve would shatter.

“Y/N, please.” Jack pleaded, grabbing your hand and twisting you around. You were practically chest-to-chest with him, making it harder for you to process your thoughts. “Tell me tha’ ye haven’ missed me. Missed us. Tell me tha’ ye haven’ though’ about me at all since we broke up and I’ll leave ye alone. But if there’s a chance, the slightest chance tha’ we could start over, I need to know.”

“I can’ tell ye tha’ I haven’ missed ye or thought about ye because it would be a lie.” You told him softly, causing his eyes to light up. “But Jack, I don’ know if there can be an us again. I can’ let myself get hurt like tha’ again.”

“I know I hurt ye, and I’m so so-”

“Wha’ happens when ye feel like I’m gettin’ in the way of yer career again? Wha’ happens when the next big role comes and ye start havin’ doubts?” You questioned, cutting him off. Jack sighed, shaking his head at you fondly.

“Ye don’ get it, do ye?” He asked, confusing you entirely. “I’ve spent the last couple years regrettin’ the fact tha’ I let ye go. I’ve rearranged me priorities since then, and winnin’ ye back is at the top of me list. I’m not here by coincidence Y/N, I came to find ye. I arranged interviews here in hopes I could talk to ye.I’ve been workin’ up the courage to talk to ye fer days now. Runnin’ into ye at the store was jus’ an excuse to talk to ye again. I want ye in me life, even if we have to jus’ be friends to start. I want more than tha’ though. It’s more than me just wantin’ ye as me girlfriend again. This is me wantin’ to spend the rest o’ me life with ye, because yer want I want. You’ve always been what I want. I just didn’ know it before.”

He spoke so sincerely, staring into your eyes through out the entire speech. You were gaping at him like a fish, heart pounding in your chest.

“If I say yes to this…” You started, causing Jack to reach forward and grab your hand in his. “Ye have to promise me a few things.”

“Anythin’.” Jack spoke immediately, making you laugh slightly.

“This is fer real Jack. I don’ want to get hurt again.” You spoke sternly, but there was a small smile growing on your face.

“I won’ let myself hurt ye again.”

“If ye have a problem with somethin’, talk to me first. Don’ just break up with me cause ye don’ know how to handle somethin’.”

“Of course.”

“And Jack?” You paused a moment, a smirk growing on your face. “Ye have to introduce me to Cillian Murphy.”

“Deal.” Jack laughed, a wide smile on his face.

“I’m not promisin’ things can go back to how they were. But I do promise tha’ I’ll give ye another chance.”

Suddenly Jack was pulling you into his arms, swinging you around in the middle of the grocery store.

“All i need is one chance.”

Needless to say, you completely forgot about your show until the next morning. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset though.

#jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #dunkirk #dunkirk imagine #jack x reader #jack lowden x reader

[randomendingnotes]

Tarot Card Symbolism in BTS

I first picked up on the tarot card symbolism thanks to the following scene in the I NEED U mv.

The pose tickled something in my brain because it seemed… well posed. Intentional. And with how intentional they are about almost everything in these vids, I took note.

It makes me think of something religious (angelic) which I still haven’t been able to identify (if you know, please send me a note).

But there’s something else it reminded me of.

The Hanged Man, one of the major arcana in the most common orientation of tarot cards still around today. The arms don’t exactly match, but there are as many different artistic interpretations of the major arcana as there are different kinds of decks.

Most often, the hands are behind the back, but sometimes they are out.  The common element is always the crossed leg.

I thought “Huh, that’s interesting.” And did a little more digging. I realized there’s another card that fits the post pretty well.

The World is another major arcana card with the iconic crossed leg. The positioning of the arms seems to fit pretty well too.

“So, what, his leg is crossed,” you might be saying. “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”

Well, ignoring that I’ve ready MUCH crazier fan theories founded on much less evidence, you’re right.That’s not really enough to go on. So I kept looking.

And I found more.

This is the iconic pose of the magician card from the Rider Waite Smith tarot deck-- probably the most popular and common one in use today.

 It’s pretty clear that he’s posing intentionally, pointing at the ground. And before you go saying “But RM has a cup in his hand, not a wand,” you should know that some of the older cards often have the magician (or “trickster”) raising a cup rather than a wand. Take a look at this saucy fellow from an old Italian deck.

And just in case that wasn’t a good enough reach for you, remember what he’s carrying throughout all of the videos.

About the closest thing you’ll get to holding a wand in 2017 without being completely fucking obvious about it. (Although, now that I think about it, seeing RM walk around with an actual wand would be pretty hilarious.)

Much of what they do to represent the cards in the videos is symbolic and doesn’t shove it in your face (like they didn’t give RM an actual wand to hold, they gave him a stand-in lollipop and made him do the pose).

There’s more evidence too.

Kookie’s got the dang wheel of fortune on his chest.

I could go on, but suffice it to say, these visual cues coupled with the repeated and important role cards play in the songs and videos makes me think there’s something there.

Is this conclusive? Hell naw. But it’s got a much stronger foundation of evidence than a lot of fan theories and interpretations, and it’s more than enough to make me want to investigate further. Especially since the recent LOVE YOURSELF promo activities pretty much yelled at us “PAY ATTENTION TO TAROT CARDS” just in case we weren’t getting it.

Tarot cards are just one element the videos draw on, and while investigating how they’re used won’t reveal the entire meaning of the storyline, it will reveal one piece of it, add some context, and at the very least, appreciate the thoughtful and hard work the writers, directors, and producers put into these videos.

The videos themselves are really rich with symbolism and plagued with allusions, calling on a lot of different mythologies, religious texts, literature, science fiction, music, and philosophy– which is why I’ve had such a hard time teasing the meaning out of them and buckling down to write any posts about it (and why most ARMYs feel like they’re going crazy when they try to make sense out of them).

There is a basic plot to the videos (that involves time travel in a butterfly-effect type of scenario with Jin) but it’s layered in so much metaphor and what appears to be symbolic background noise (but it isn’t :D) your brain picks up on all of it, tries to make sense of it, starts going in a million different directions, and before you know it, you’ve got a massive trello board and an evernote and several folders on your computer all dedicated to trying to make sense of it, and your brain gets scrambled with the labyrinthine interconnections of visual elements between mvs and the only thing you end up commenting on the Youtube video is “What.”

It’s almost like the defense mechanism of flocks of birds or schools of fish– by all of them sticking together and moving in a complex pattern, it makes it really difficult to focus on any one individual allusion or symbol, and even more difficult to nail it to a blog and try to pin down its meaning.

I have a headache just thinking about it.

(Or maybe that’s the soju.)

I’ll start teasing out some of the meaning by doing a few posts going forward that focus on elements of the cards that are called up in the mv’s and the meanings behind the cards themselves. I think each member represents one or two cards, and lots of other tarot card symbolism appears throughout. I’m pretty certain about which cards a few of the members are supposed to be, but others are still up in the air.

But every day new pieces get added to the puzzle ;) Hell, just today a new piece of this puzzle dropped and made me pretty sure I finally know which card Jimin is.

#tarot #bts #symbolism #theory #love yourself #gnostic #mythology

[ukendeavour]

Three Dropped or unresolved plots for Stef and Lena.

I hate when shows give us a plot, ram it down our throats and then it’s magically gone. Or worse a plot comes up suddenly slaps you around the face and then is dealt with in one scene like magic. For a show that has said it’s all about real life Stef and Lena have faced some moments which have just been dropped or left so open we will never get the answers.  Here are three of them, one for Stef, one for Lena and one for them both.

 Stef’s cancer.

This one stings. For half a season we watched Stef struggling with not just her cancer but who she was. she cut her hair and decided to get implants and then… the plot stopped. We don’t know if she got implants. I’m guessing she did as she’s now wearing lower cut tops again and her shirts are open a little more than there were in 3b. we don’t know if she got her nipples tattooed on. We don’t know how she feels about her new look. Has she found some confidence? Has she let Lena play with them. Does Lena like them? Nothing. No mention of the fact that she could get ovarian cancer and whether she wants to do anything about it. as the gene, she has said she had the possibility of getting both.  The kids get plots that last for seasons why not the moms this was a serious issue and as soon as Stef had her big speech about breasts and long hair not making her woman it was over. Just like that. It shouldn’t be over. There is more to it. Stef was scared of having hard, artificial breasts and now she has them, some sort of conversation with her wife would have been nice.

 Lena’s bio baby needs.

Lena wanted what Stef has, bio, fostered and adopted children. She wanted a child of her own. She was even willing to risk her own life to have Frankie. Then we lost Frankie. They planted a tree, which Lena hates because it’s a daily remainder that she lost her baby. She’d bought up children that their own mothers couldn’t. I’m surprised she doesn’t want to kill Ana for neglecting Mariana and Jesus, she had her children and lost that chance. Lucky Stef and Lena have given them a home since they were five (even though now daddy fucking Gabe has arrived and he needs to fuck off as well) Lena waned a baby of her own, so much at first she did it without speaking to Stef. She got pregnant without a donor contact and nearly ended up fight for custody of a baby that hadn’t even been born yet. When they lost Frankie, the storyline died. No mention of Lena wanting a baby gain came up. I understand the plot may have been put in because of Sherri Saum being pregnant but a scene of them going to the doctors office and being told it’s wasn’t a good idea for Lena to have a baby would have been better than NOTHING. We know Lena was depressed after she lost Frankie and she admitted it to Stef who told her she would be there for her no matter what, yet that depression was never explored. It was never mentioned again. Real life doesn’t work that way.

 Divorce.

Another slap in the face for Adams Foster fans was them nearly losing their house because of Stuart being a complete idiot and Dana managing to save the day at the last minute but where did this leave Stef and Lena. well filing for divorce to freeze their assets so the house couldn’t be sold to the world’s most annoying couple. The topic was dropped until 04x16 when suddenly, they’ve had the quickest divorce in Californian history because they were being sued. HANG ON A MINUTE. The couple where going to sue them. Where the fuck did that come from? There was no build up to this. It was like slap, we’re divorced. But this could have been a great plot for Stef and Lena in a season were plot for them as a couple was so thin it wasn’t even there. Them getting the lawyers letter saying the couple were going to sue them for breach of contract or something. So they would have to bite the bullet and get divorced. Stef was gutted that Lena didn’t want to have another wedding. She’d been the one that the piece of paper hadn’t matter too but had taken to married life like a duck to water. What the fuck were the writers thinking?  They have drama there. And it’s not for the sake of more drama it’s there waiting for you and you just skip over it in two lines and make a joke a bout Stef wearing flannel. (which is no joke it’s hot) they missed a trick there and slapped the fans in the face. Okay we got a lovely, amazing second wedding with a make out scene in the rain (which I can watch a million times and still get goose bumps) but there was no build up, no drama it was just dumped in our laps. Thanks for that.

 These are just three of the plots that came to me. They have this amazing couple, who have been through so much. Even the fact that Lena has problems with her Mom has almost been dropped. The writers have a great team in Teri and Sherri and great characters in Stef and Lena.

The said there would be a return to FAMILY in season 5 from the two promos that doesn’t seem to be happening. We can’t change what they’ve already made. But we can always, as the viewers make our views known.

As always I’m here for Stef and Lena, I’ve never watched the show for any other reason. They are the glue of this family. Maybe the show should return to the ‘DNA doesn’t make a family, love does’ show I love. (and get rid of Gabe for God Sake)

Thank you for reading.

UkEndeavour.

#Stef Adams Foster #Lena Adams Foster #Teri Polo #Sherri Saum #The Fosters #AdamsFoster

[fromtheringapron]

WWF SummerSlam 1990

Date: August 27, 1990

Location: Philadelphia Spectrum in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Attendance: 19,304

Commentary: Vince McMahon and Roddy Piper

Results: 

1. Power & Glory (Hercules & Paul Roma) w/Slick defeated The Rockers (Shawn Michaels & Marty Jannetty).

2. WWF Intercontinental Championship Match: The Texas Tornado defeated Mr. Perfect (champion) w/Bobby Heenan to win the title. 

3. Queen Sherri defeated Saaphire via forfeit.

4. The Warlord w/Slick defeated Tito Santana. 

5. Two-out-of-Three-Falls Match for the WWF Tag Team Championship: The Hart Foundation (Bret Hart & Jim Neidhart) defeated Demolition (Smash & Crush) (champions) two falls to one to win the titles.

6. Jake Roberts defeated Bad News Brown via disqualification. The Big Bossman was the special guest referee. 

7. Jim Duggan and Nikolai Volkoff defeated The Orient Express (Sato & Tanaka) w/Mr. Fuji.

8. Randy Savage w/Queen Sherri defeated Dusty Rhodes.

9. Hulk Hogan w/The Big Bossman defeated Earthquake w/Dino Bravo & Jimmy Hart.  

10. Steel Cage Match for the WWF Championship: The Ultimate Warrior (champion) defeated Rick Rude w/Bobby Heenan.

Analysis

SummerSlam 1990 may not be remembered as one of the best SummerSlams of all time, but it does have a strange allure inviting several rewatches. Everything, from the booking to the promos, feels slightly off-kilter and piques curiosity. For its era, it’s also quite the anomaly⏤the rare show not to be headlined by Hulk Hogan.

Well, sorta. It’s abundantly clear the WWF still favors Hogan as their top star but he also shares the spotlight here with the Ultimate Warrior, the reigning world champion. As a result, this show presents a weird duality where they need to cater to both men. Hogan’s match with Earthquake gets more time and story, but it’s Warrior who closes us out. As we all know, the latter’s reign as champ wouldn’t last, but it’s nonetheless an interesting change of pace from the usual Hogan posedown which ends many other shows from the same era.

Another oddity is the decision to center much of the night’s drama around the disappearance of Saaphire. The resolution to the angle is predictable⏤everyone knows she’s been bought out by Ted DiBiase. But even then, we’re still treated to what’s essentially a live episode of Unsolved Mysteries, including a series of backstage skits and a pair of instantly quotable promos from Dusty Rhodes. The decision to place so much focus on storyline over in-ring action wouldn’t be out of place on an episode of Monday Night Raw today, but it’s completely novel in 1990, made even more so when you consider Saaphire would depart the WWF almost immediately after.

But just when it seems this show is ready to go off the rails, it’s grounded by an instant classic between Demolition and The Hart Foundation. Even in an era already known for its incredible tag team division, the match stands out as one of the best. There’s still a twist to the proceedings, thanks to Demolition adding a third member to their team earlier in the summer. However, while that decision proved unpopular amongst fans, the unfair numbers advantage adds an extra layer intrigue to the match and makes it all the more satisfying when The Hart Foundation overcome the odds.

While this show does give time and energy to ideas that either don’t work or fail to materialize into anything long-term, it’s interesting to watch the WWF try them out. It’s the first SummerSlam to take some considerable risks, and that’s absolutely necessary at this stage of the event’s development. We wouldn’t have the biggest party of summer if nobody stepped out of their comfort zone.

My Random Notes

This is one of the first wrestling shows I ever watched so I’m sure much of my enjoyment is purely based on nostalgia, but I do think its strangeness would make me gravitate toward it anyway.

One of my earliest wrestling memories is feeling super concerned for Shawn Michaels and condemning Power & Glory to hell for what they did to his leg. I even went so far to imagine Marty Jannetty visiting Shawn in the hospital and sending him get well cards, which is deeply sad now knowing the two weren’t exactly the best of friends in real life.

Ah, yes, this is the first SummerSlam with the classic SummerSlam theme song. Such a jam. It just sounds like heat rising from fresh pavement.

Didn’t take Bret Hart to be a Phil Collins fan but okay.

Texas Tornado’s pre-match interview was clearly taped earlier in the day because he’s wearing a different pair of trunks than what he wears to the ring. I’ve heard Kerry Von Erich would struggle a lot with promos and require several takes to get everything right. so that’s probably what happened here.

Quality National Geographic footage of Bad News Brown’s sewer rats, eh?

There are some seriously uncomfortable racial undertones to how Saaphire is treated by the other characters around her, most notably when Piper compares her to Aunt Jemima on commentary and Sherri refuses to recognize her as a person. It’s pretty icky stuff and it’s not lost on me that for as much as Juanita Wright is genuinely likable, the Saaphire character seems built up to subtlety mock her as well.  

Speaking of Sherri, her look here is one of her best ever. It’s like if Jushin Liger, the band Kiss, the ensemble from Cats, and the Bride of Frankenstein got together and dropped some acid. Even more ridiculous is how we’re supposed to believe she’ll actually wrestle a full match in attire like that.

I’ve watched this show a million times and still manage to wince at the sight of the welts on Earthquake’s back from The Big Bossman’s chair shots. Like, how does he not manage to scream in pain?

On Warrior’s title reign: If the plan were indeed to make Warrior the next Hogan, I think that’s a huge mistake, mainly because Warrior’s type of character isn’t one you can center your entire company around without undoing most of its appeal. Hogan is larger than life, sure, but he’s also presented as an everyman who says his prayers and takes his vitamins. With Warrior, he’s presented to us as an enigmatic figure from Parts Unknown who performs acid poetry whenever he’s given the chance to speak, which is entertaining but doesn’t necessarily connect with a larger audience in the same way Hogan does. If you want to give him a world title run, go for it. If you want to make him one of the big stars of your company, go for it. But as the torch bearer who’ll lead the WWF into the next decade? Nah, not on that level. I don’t think that’s his place.

#wwf #wwe #summerslam

[sheminecrafts]

Does tech have the guts to deploy its resources against police brutality?

The protests and unrest of the last week have produced enormous volumes of footage documenting police brutality and other crimes. Where is the platform for this important evidence to be collected, collated, and made public? If a major tech company doesn’t step up to the plate soon it can only be attributed to hypocrisy and cowardice.

Right now the world’s largest, most capable tech companies are deploying their immense computing and product resources towards myriad consumer, enterprise, and increasingly government and military needs. Live video and unlimited storage, image analysis, indexing and sorting of complex data streams — these are services being offered for a huge variety of purposes.

It’s striking that one thing that cannot be found among those purposes is systematized documentation of citizen-collected video of violent incidents like police brutality. Despite their leadership blithely repeating slogans, sliding into hashtags, and making the occasional donation, these companies are not taking one potentially transformative action that only they can take.

Asymmetric warfare

Axon Evidence being used in a promo image.

One can see a sort of mirror image of how such a platform would look in the video evidence management services of Axon (formerly Taser), which provides body cameras and media management for police departments around the country. Video is ingested, tagged, and automatically processed — for instance, blurring the faces of bystanders unrelated to an incident in a clip that could be released publicly.

Systems like Axon’s, though they can in some ways advance accountability, also place the immense resources of modern technology firmly in the hands of the authorities. All state-gathered evidence of an incident is in one place, processed, audited, and ready to be deployed or suppressed as needs dictate, in a streamlined purpose-built suite of tools.

There is no such system available to people on the other side of the law. Once gathered by witnesses, footage may be scattered across a dozen sites and services, subject to as many license agreements or media restrictions. It may be stripped of metadata, have details lost in re-encoding, be reposted or edited by others, and so on.

(To be clear, there are multiple efforts to surface other official information, like written police reports, complaints, training methods and regulations, and so on, but the increasingly important video evidence of improper use of force has no high-profile champion.)

Venture firms rush to find ways to support Black founders and investors

For those on the receiving end of state violence, technology is available to them but disorganized and unreliable. It has been organized and weaponized by authorities in ways that make it easy for them to leverage technology against their chosen targets, and as has been proven repeatedly they cannot be trusted to exercise that power fairly or justly. And this is all in addition to the already overpowering protections and resources, formal and informal, inherent to being a part of law enforcement.

What is needed is a counterweight. A site or network of compatible sites where:

Video can be uploaded freely and, if desired, anonymously

Proof of origin and chain of custody is reasonably established

Uploaded videos are arranged by geotag and timestamp

Tags and annotations can be proposed by the community

This data and metadata is systematically analyzed and indexed

It’s worth noting that none of these capabilities is anything new or special. YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, Amazon, Microsoft, Snapchat, all these and more employ some or all of these already, at scale, for ordinary everyday purposes in their apps and services.

Features like Snap Map were established (and in some cases dropped due to privacy fears) years ago.

A simple example of how this might be used in the context of police brutality is the following.

In an altercation between police and protestors, the police have body cameras rolling. By selecting which footage they make public, the police can advance the preferred, official narrative, such as that police were responding to violence from the crowd. Their evidence is secure, well-organized, and homogeneous — and like all other evidence collected by the state is intended for deployment against its enemies.

Ordinarily, any documentation collected by the protestors would be, at best, organized by hashtag but more likely scattered across a number of services and difficult to find after the fact. Here was the scene in Seattle last night, a screenshot of a live stream with no timestamp or credit. If it was important, how would I find the original video, if it even exists, contact the creator, link it to other angles?

If there was a site like the one described above, dozens of people could upload their videos to it (streams could archive automatically to it), with timestamps and geotags to provide a basis for their presence there, and cues visible in the video (street signs and buildings) that can confirm it. If people in the crowd want to present evidence that the police provoked the crowd rather than vice versa, they have more than their own tweet, screen grabs from a live stream, or a video being passed around on a Telegram or Discord group.

Anyone can go to the site, pick a time and place, and see videos verified within reason to have originated there and then. This invites the viewing of different perspectives on the same events and better visibility for media that may not have been shared as widely in the moment.

This system doesn’t take sides and doesn’t need to. It is not there to advance one particular narrative over another but to correct an asymmetry of resources in the ability to present and support a narrative in the first place.

Who dares, loses

Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg arrives to testify before a joint hearing of the US Senate Commerce, Science and Transportation Committee and Senate Judiciary Committee on Capitol Hill, April 10, 2018 in Washington, DC. (Photo: JIM WATSON/AFP/Getty Images)

Why don’t we have a system like this? The two usual reasons: money and politics.

In the first place, building and maintaining even the simplest version of such a system would be expensive — likely millions of dollars in initial costs and a fair amount for upkeep, moderation, and so on.

Axon’s system (Evidence.com and its related brands) is a successful business because its customers, usually city and state governments, have deep pockets and plenty of motives to use body cameras (these motives, it must be said, are not always shared by individual officers). An analogous system designed to be deployed against the government will almost certainly not be self-sufficient.

So this is a money pit to begin with, although the magnitude of that pit, compared to the ordinary waste in spending produced by misguided Silicon Valley endeavors, is hard to say. (My guess is that when placed next to extraordinary boondoggles like Magic Leap or Google Plus, the cost of the proposed platform will seem trivial.)

The second problem is that building a resource to combat police brutality is, unfortunately, a politically charged act. It is an endorsement of the view that not only is state violence a problem, it’s enough of a problem that private companies need to step in to mitigate it.

Alexis Ohanian steps down from Reddit board, asks for his seat to go to a black board member

Despite the last few days demonstrating that this is in fact the case beyond a reasonable doubt, it is still politically risky for companies to take a step like this. They risk disfavor in government contracts, alienation of certain political groups, and invite legal complications from hosting controversial videos.

The simple truth here is that a platform for tracking police brutality, however useful or needful, will make no money and expose its creators to unknown liabilities. The companies with the resources to create such a platform didn’t get where they are by biting the hand that feeds them — and by relying on the custom of the establishment, they have gradually become it.

These companies often emit noises resembling sympathy, and on occasion sponsor uncontroversial social movements as they reach the mainstream. But their posturing only serves to highlight their reticence to take direct action.

Microsoft, Google, Amazon, Facebook, and their like marshal truly enormous sums of money, create and control some of the most advanced technologies on the planet, and employ a large proportion of the smartest (and often most progressive) people in the industry. They are in a unique position of empowerment to create the change they ostensibly champion, but prefer to contribute the corporate equivalent of a golf clap rather than roll up their sleeves.

Does any one of these companies have the guts to take action and put their bottom line at risk the way protestors are putting their lives at risk fighting against police brutality every day? I suspect it’s a foregone conclusion, but it would be nice for once to be pleasantly surprised.

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