#anyway tom would so obviously take care of greg VERY well

[tomwambsgans]

need tom to get deliriously sick and be really upset about it. he texts greg to bring him some particular thing but aggressively insists that he's fine when greg gets there, and that he really just needed the thing, but also he did in fact need greg to see him. and pity him. all while tom fights it off and pathetically tries to bully greg for playing nursemaid when greg is really just making him tea anyway. and greg tells him he should take a hot bath and tom just snaps back "i already tried that. idiot." and there's silence and tom tells him "you're gonna catch what i have" and greg says "i already did. i've been feeling the beginnings of it since before you left work." and tom stares back at him and doesn't know whether to say i'm sorry or well, good so instead he says "and i suppose you're expecting me to play nurse for you when you're bedridden in a couple days..." and greg shrugs and says not really and tom says almost immediately "i will." greg chalks it up to delirium and otherwise doesn't know what to say so he just carries on, but before he leaves entirely he feels for tom's temperature and tom is just out of it enough to reach up for greg's hand and slide it down to his lips and kiss greg's knuckles. and later greg pointedly does not wash that hand.

[pomegranateruin]

What do you think would happen if TomGreg met Macdennjs (btw your art is so gorgeous it’s unbelievable)

okay before i go on a ramble: thank you so much!!!!

now. okay so i’ve actually thought about this extensively as sunny and succession are my two biggest interests!! the only real struggle i have with conceptualising it is the fact that the genres are so widely different and the sunny characters are so goddamn cartoonish that i don’t know how it would work? that being said, here’s how it would go:

canonically, mac likes tall guys (as we see in times up) and i think he’d see greg and immediately try to woo him. show off his muscles, give him free drinks at the bar etc etc. greg goes along with it because free drinks and he has a hard time leaving conversations anyway. i also think maybe they’d get high together? anyway, tom would hate that someone’s taking his greg time away and dennis would hate that 1. mac is giving this younger, taller guy free drinks and 2. mac isn’t giving him his undivided attention. going with the sunny “scheme” thing, i think dennis would eventually clock tom being jealous (in his own way) and try to manipulate him into helping him break up whatever’s going on there. BUT ALSO. i think that dennis would feel TOTALLY emasculated by tom, him being 6’3” and built, rich, etc. and he’d probably be all pissy and whiny about any time he’d have to spend with him. tom on the other hand does not care for dennis or the bar and sees this all as relatively below him (trying to fit into the rich people stereotype, of course, as i firmly believe he spent a lot of his younger years in bars with friends). you may be asking: that’s all well and good but what does mac think of tom? what does greg think of dennis? i’ll tell you. mac sees tom and definitely hits on him, first interaction he hits on both of them, it’s just that greg’s easier to actually pull along - but if tom had given him anything at all in return he’d have happily went with him instead/too. greg doesn’t like dennis AT ALL, he thinks he’s gross and weird and doesn’t wanna be around/talk to the guy. he tells mac this while they’re hanging out so mac’s very much like “dennis, you have to leave, dude seriously, i’m trying to bang this dude” which obviously enrages dennis (re: dennis hating it in general). i think the whole interaction ends with tom and greg leaving while mac and dennis are mid fight/screaming match and tom being super passive aggressive in the car

[in-my-head-i-do-everything-right]

Prompt: Basically the entirety of “I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys but more specifically “secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours

secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. maybe I just wanna be yours

In October, while she’s still riding the high of absolutely demolishing Greg Dewey in mock trial, she finds out that the hot guy who’s always standing outside the library after her 3 PM post mock trial coffee break was the one who said that shitty thing about her sister two years ago while walking out of a debate competition—a competition Allie is ninety percent sure he won, by the way. And sure, he looks hot as fuck leaning against that exposed brick in his Tom Ford coat. Which, arguably is his right. To look hot. But, still.

He said the shitty thing about her sister. Allie’s still a little pissed about that. Which is her right.

“You’re Harry Bingham, right?” she asks, just to make sure. God, his name is so… Waspy. Pure Wasp. Bingham. She’s bets his family came over on the Mayflower. She bets they’re proud of that.

He smirks down at her. Smirks. He literally smirks. “Who’s asking?”

She can’t get over the smirk. Like, is it hot? Yes. Is she incredibly annoyed at him already? Big yes. “Who do you think is asking?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. It’s a really nice navy. Allie’s honestly a big fan of the coat. “If you’re asking…”

“It’s a yes or no question,” she snaps, her arms flailing a little, her coffee sloshing around in her cup. She paid five dollars for it from the student run coffee shop and she doubts it was at all worth it. But she made a promise, okay? A promise to her sister that she’d support small businesses. Which has pretty much only meant stopping with the daily Starbucks, but Cassandra doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I’m Harry Bingham. Why?” How was that smooth? No, Allie would seriously like to know. How did he make that sound smooth? How is that possible?

“Did you do debate in high school?”

His brow scrunches. His head tilts. He still looks hot. “Why—”

“Another yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where this conversation is going in real time, “I did debate in high school.”

She smiles. It’s not a proper smile, more of a half-smile. A smug smile? Doesn’t matter. “Great. Do you remember Cassandra Pressman?”

Harry’s face lights up briefly, probably with recognition. “Yeah, I remember Cassandra. She’s hard to forget. Very… intense.”

“Well,” Allie says, stretching out the word. God, she hates men. “I’m her sister, and from what I can remember, you said some pretty shitty stuff about her, and were, just in general, a complete and total asshole.”

“Excuse—”

“A misogynistic asshole, actually. And you know what, this coffee is shit anyway so—” In one fluid movement, an honestly graceful movement, a movement that Allie is—no matter how disappointed she knows her parents will be in her—proud of, she dumps her shitty five dollar coffee all over the front of his Tom Ford coat.

He lets out this pained sounding gasp that half resembles a mess of curses, and she walks away victorious and mostly guilt free.

Two hours later, he follows her on Instagram. She does not follow him back (even though she thinks about it because… hot dude), and that feels really good too.

-

With a start like that, they shouldn’t make it anywhere. Still…

In November, she runs into him in line at the student run coffee shop. Which just furthers the point that she needs to stop going there.

“Allie Pressman,” he says, and if he wasn’t so hot, so might be a little creeped out. But, also, she does know his name. So maybe they’re even?

“Hi,” she says, semi-awkwardly. About as awkward as can be expected when you run into the guy you dumped a whole coffee on. Also, turns out setting was not what was making him so attractive. No surprises there, but still something to take note of.

“Thought you said the coffee here was shitty.”

She purses her lips. “Well, I have Pfeiffer this semester, so while the coffee here is,” she lowers her voice just a little. God, she loves being dramatic, “incredibly shitty, I definitely need the caffeine.”

“Oh,” he visibly winces, “sorry about Pfeiffer’s class.” And, then, just before they reach the front of the line, “Let me buy you a coffee? To make up for the fact that you will be getting very little sleep this semester?”

She tilts her head to the side. Who the fuck is this boy, and how much is he willing to spend on coffee? “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee. Because… well, you know.”

It’s a half-grin half-smirk this time. And it is, arguably, much more disarming. “My friends and I have taken to calling it The Incident,” he supplies, and oh he’s funny too. Fuck.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” She is not, in fact, at all sorry about The Incident. However, Hot Guy (he does have a name, and she does know said name, but… well) is about to buy her a coffee, and judging by the Rolex on his wrist, price does not matter.

He shrugs. “I had it coming. And I’m sorry about the shit I said about Cassandra.” Allie’s mouth doesn’t necessarily fall open, but it almost falls open, and that counts for something. White boy admits he made a mistake. This is first page news. “I was stupid and upset and probably a little high. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He levels her this easy grin. This content grin. This… I am one step ahead of you grin. “I messaged your sister on Facebook a very lengthy and somewhat heartfelt apology a year ago.”

They are officially at the front of the line. Allie does not care. “Cassandra hasn’t checked her Facebook since 2018.”

“That sounds like a her problem.”

Allie ignores that. “Hi,” she says to the cashier. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso please.”

Harry looks equal parts disgusted and appreciative. And a little bit concerned. Which is valid. “Small black coffee for me.”

“And can I also get one of those brownies, and two of those turkey shaped sugar cookies,” she turns to him. Spending someone else’s money on food is fun. “Don’t they just look so cute?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding amused and looking way too endeared. “They look very cute. You plan on sharing with me?”

She should not be playing along with this. “Maybe.”

He follows her outside, catching the door and holding it open for her. It’s raining, which sorta sucks, but she has no plans on actually sitting down with this boy. That feels like a step too far.

Only, then—“My place is just around the corner,” he says, so fucking casually. And, God, how is she supposed to respond to that? “I’ll trade you one of those cookies for my notes from Pfeiffer’s course.”

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This is not good. “You paid for the cookies.”

“I know.”

Fuck.

“Okay, let’s go to your place.”

-

They have sex five times over the course of a week before her conscious tells her to stop. Then, she tries avoiding him for the rest of November but gives up two days after Thanksgiving. Because she’s not immune to anybody who calls to offere her left over pumpkin pie, okay. Fucking sue her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says right off the bat, and he lets out this laugh that involves him throwing his head back. And that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and she should not be feeling this warm inside because it is literally snowing right now.

“Where should you be, Pressman?”

“Studying for my polisci midterm.”

He continues looking at her way too fondly. Her cheeks flush a pale pink. She blames the change in temperature. “You have Craven?”

“Yeah.”

He does this little waving motion that is much hotter than it should be. One day she will find a thing he looks unattractive doing. Today is not the day. “Don’t even worry about it. Easiest test I ever took.”

“I should still probably be studying for it.”

He shakes his head, and that makes her laugh even though she very much does not want to. “You seem pretty smart. Don’t worry about it.”

That was… comforting.

“You know, I kinda like what we have going,” he says, and nope her heart should not be beating anywhere near as hard as it is. Is she having a heart attack? Oh, God, is she about to die? Is she about to die in Harry Bingham’s apartment? Cassandra is going to be so disappointed.

“And what exactly is this that we have going?” she manages to get out. Yeah, Allie can practically taste Cassandra’s disappointment.

“Eating baked goods and having sex. Obviously.”

She chokes on her bite of pumpkin pie.

“So if you wanna get dinner sometime…” he continues, as though she is not choking right in front of him.

She manages to dislodge the piece of pumpkin pie in her throat. If that shit wasn’t so fucking delicious, she would be swearing it off right now. “Would you be paying?”

He looks surprised. That counts as a victory. “Yes?”

“Then no, I’m good.”

“Why?” he asks, just a little too quickly, and, yeah, his composure is entirely gone, and they are once more on an equal playing field. Arguably, she might have the upper hand right now. Which is nice.

“Because that sounds a lot like a date, and I do not want to date you.”

To his credit, he only looks sort of hurt. She takes another bite of that pumpkin pie. Who cares if it might kill her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister’s high school debate rival, and that just feels a little too it’s a small world for me.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it’s a valid one, isn’t it?”

“No, not really.” Well. At least he’s being honest.

“Look, Harry.” First name and everything. This is called progress. “You’re nice and all—really great baked goods—but Cassandra would give me that disappointed face if it ever came out that I’m… associated with you. And, honestly, I can’t handle that right now. Mentally—nope. Not happening.” She sounds flustered. She feels flustered.

“Okay?” She is taking that answer as a win.

“Great!” Too bright. “Hopefully we can stay friends? Or at least the type of acquaintances who buy the other fun shaped sugar cookies and give them the notes to classes so they have a chance to not fail.”

He stares at her, a bit like he doesn’t think she’s real, like he’s marveling at everything that she is. That or she has pumpkin pie crumbs all over her face. And, then: “Actually,” he starts, and oh God, this is not going to go her way is it?

“What?” she says very slowly.

“You know what?”

“What?” She repeats.This is already getting annoying.

“You know what’s hot?”

“What?” (But with additional fear this time.)

“Secret relationships.”

Oh. Oh Fuck.

She doesn’t have an argument for that.

-

Honestly, that’s probably the moment that it all starts.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

[fanficparker]

Faking, Falling > Part 3

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~3.3k words

Warning: Swearing, Angst.

Summary: Positive or negative intentions yet the results do look pleasant but for how long?

<< PART 2 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 4 >>

"I am taking the day off early." You tell Jade, making sure Harrison was nearby and could hear you clearly.

"You seem excited, is there something special?"

You look at Harrison through your peripheral vision, who was just sitting ten feet from you, reading his script. But as much as you know him, you were sure his concentration was not on his script but on you. Completing almost one and a half month here on set you knew if you and he were in the same room, his mind was always wandering around you. Well, you would be more than pleased to get the eyes of the blonde who has the ability to get everyone's eyes on him, only if he wasn't a jerk. You were sure the only reason he had is eyes on you was to search for a perfect opportunity to belittle you or to make fun of you in some way or the other like he does every time.

But this time was different. You wanted to belittle him. Everyone who works on this set very well knew Simon and Harrison never got well. They had arguments every now and then and it would be really cool to show how his enemy was far better than him.

A smirk played on your lips as he stole glances at you thinking you weren't noticing. Idiot. You turned your attention back on Jade as you spoke further, "Simon asked me out! And now we have a date tonight, of course, I am excited."

"Really? But you told me just a week before that you weren't ready to date after-" She paused turning her head to see Harrison in the corner and then back at you, afraid she would speak anything that could hurt you. But you completed her sentence yourself.

"After that arsehole pulled that prank on me? Pfft." You were louder than you should for a bilateral conversation with Jade because it was with someone else. She looked surprised at your confidence level and that you were so comfortable saying Harrison 'arsehole' when he could easily hear.

"Look I thought about it and came to a conclusion. I am sure every fucking person on this planet is better than him and Simon... Simon hates him, I hate him. It's a perfect match!" You sounded as if it was a sure thing. You could feel Harrison's gaze on you, making you almost chuckle but you successfully hid it under a fake cough.

"Okay. I am happy for you." Jade said although you were sure her approval only translated to 'but Y/n that's not a very reliable reason to date someone.'

"Yeah, anything except that arsehole makes me happy." You smirked turning giving him a look and walking back to your designing room.

"Mate, I think she was referring to you." Harrison's co-star Greg whispered in his ear.

"Fuck off!" He mumbled and slammed his script on the front table, getting up and walking to your room.

"Seems like we aren't on good terms, specky."

You heard his voice behind you as you continue to sew your costume.

Without looking at him you clearly stated, "Next time make sure to knock before entering."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Looks like you need to get your hearing checked." You said finally looking at him. His jaws dropped yet again. You could see him struggling to take in your changed behaviour, which simply means - your faking game was working fine.

"You have changed," He said quietly.

"Guess it's a change for good."

For like minutes he just stared at your eyes as if he was trying to read them. It felt like he was searching for the part of you that you no matter how much you acted to be confident yet get flustered at his sight or snarky comments. You didn't give in, maintaining firm eye contact. He licked his lips and you could see the clear movements in his Adam's apple.

Harrison Osterfield was nervous and you were the reason behind it.

"Did it really hurt you that bad?" His voice was barely a whisper but still, you could clearly make out his words.

"Like you care, Osterfield."

He exhaled deeply.

"Yeah, you are right. I don't care."

"Good for you. Looks like the hatred is mutual."

"Never said it was hatred---"

"Action speaks louder than words..." A third voice interrupted before Harrison could complete himself. You and he both turned to see Simon standing by the door, holding a bunch of costumes. He was also you assistant after all.

"I am sorry if that sounded cliché but Y/n surely isn't enjoying your company." He said entering inside, keeping the costumes on the table and faced Harrison.

"You are no one to speak for her," Harrison spoke with gritted teeth.

"Well for your kind information, we are going on a date to---"

"That still doesn't make you speak for her. You aren't her boyfriend."

"At least she doesn't hate me," Simon said, standing just two inches from Harrison. The scene that played in front of your eyes seemed a lot more serious than you expected, making you quietly stand there and listen.

"Well, she will definitely hate you if I tell what you really do." The corners of Harrison's lips tugged into a light smirk.

"Ensure you have enough proofs before opening your mouth, Osterfield. We both know whom Y/n will trust otherwise."

Harrison smile fell and now Simon was the one confidently grinning. Harrison shifted his gaze towards you and then back at him. He exhaled again and walked from the side, saying nothing, leaving you and Simon alone in the room. Simon turned to look at you, giving a bright smile but it didn't do anything to the sinking, dark feeling in your abdomen. Their conversation was so shady that it made you sick.

"Aww come on Y/n, don't listen to him. Just two more hours of work and we are free!" He cheered to which you smiled (fake, obviously) but still you believed in him more than Harrison which let you sigh and calm yourself.

* * *

Two hours went by really slow but they did anyway. Simon asked you to leave together but you told him to leave first as you had to do finish the last tid-bits of your designs.

"I will be at Regan's Diner at 7. Can't wait to see you there!" And then he left when you concentrated back at your costume. You sighed, stretching your arms, relaxing. You glanced at your phone.

"Shit!" You jolted up from your seat, it was already 6:25 pm, you were late by 20 mins. You needed time to go back home, get dressed and then reach the restaurant. You cursed under your breath, assembling your stuff and shoving it into your handbag. Accidentally your phone slipped landing on the soft carpet beneath your table. You zipped up your bag, oblivious to your missing phone and rushed outside. You almost bumped into that blue eyes notorious blonde but stabilised yourself before you could collide. He gave you a blank look and you ignored him, walking out and driving to your home.

* * *

It was just five-minute past and Harrison couldn't find any interest in rehearsing his role. The conversation between him and you played over and over again in his head. If your date with Simon goes well, he would no more be able to follow you around or see your flattered or maybe annoyed expression. The thought of completely distancing himself from you made his stomach churn. But he doesn't care, right?

But you weren't wrong... He did feel guilty of what he did now.

No. No... He doesn't care about you or anyone... He isn't guilty.

It was your life, your date, whatever it was it had nothing to do with him. Maybe it was good for both of you. If he could survive without Tom and his company then he was sure he could definitely survive without interacting with you. You, who was basically nothing for him... He shook his head at all these annoying self debates going in his mind and he decided to take a break too. He finally called it a day off. He was about to walk out of the building when Greg called him.

"George asked you to keep all your costumes arranged as Simon & Y/n both have already left."

"Yeah yeah, no need to explain..." He rolled his eyes, dramatically.

Thank you Greg for making the day hundred percent better! He placed his costume in the wardrobe stand and then heard the sound of a chime. He checked his phone, but there was nothing. He again heard the sound and this time his gaze landed on the phone lying beneath the table. He picked it up, realising it was your phone. He would have not cared even a little bit if the 'two new messages' notification didn't show the name, Simon.

Don't open the message. Don't open the message...

And then he did... You didn't put a lock-screen password and Harrison felt calm blaming it on you.

Simon [6:35 pm]: Hey Y/n. I m really sorry but I got stuck in some important work. Can we plz meet at 9:30 instead of 7?

Simon [6:35 pm]: Tell me if this works for you. And I m really sorry for changing the plans on last minute.

Harrison read through the messages, rolling his eyes as if it was the most stupid message of all time. The phone chimed again.

Simon [6:36 pm]: Waiting for your reply <3

"Look how fucking excited this bastard is!" Harrison mumbled.

Maybe he does deserve a reply...

Harrison's fingers danced on the phone screen without thinking twice.

You would have put in a password if you were too bothered.

Y/n [6:38 pm]: No problem. See you at 9:30 then.

And the phone chimed again.

Fucking desperate!

Simon [6:38 pm]: Great. Can't wait to see you ;)

"Haha... Like she'll wait for you till nine-thirty!" Harrison finally felt a bit relieved from today's incident. A proud smile formed on his lips. He debated whether to keep the phone with him or leave it here... But first he should delete this conversation and he did.

Wait... What if he hands you back this phone himself? And enjoy your and Simon's date... Sounds like a plan to him.

He slipped the phone in his jacket and eagerly drove to your house, smiling proudly. He parked the car in the driveway and didn't waste a single minute ringing your door-bell.The door opened a minute later.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Thank you for being so polite. I really appreciate," Harrison chuckled at your annoyed voice. His eyes travelled from your head to toe, taking in your complete look. There were a hairbrush and a lipstick in your hands. Your hairs were half combed. You were wearing a blue knee-length dress, and the ribbons on your sleeves were still untied. You looked like you were rushing.

Yeah, rushing... For your date.

"Tell me what's your work I literally am getting really late and can't even find my fucking phone!" You growled looking at the wall clock showing 6:59 pm already.

"Well maybe this is yours," Harrison said taking out your phone. You looked at his hand and instantly snatched the device out.

"Oh God! Where do you get this?"

"Really Y/n. Your guest serving etiquette is kinda fucked up." He said leaning at your door frame as you checked your phone.

* * *

You were absolutely confused to see Harrison at your doorstep but because you were already late for your date, you didn't want to waste any more time thinking about any possibilities. But now he was here, safely handing you your phone. It's true you haven't forgiven Harrison for what he did and neither ever he asked for any apologies making you want to continue this hating game. You won't be lying if you say - you were actually enjoying it. It was easy to hate him than to deal with any other feeling. Maybe this crush was dying slowly, slowly. Everything you ever wanted...

But right now, he came to return you his phone and maybe he was right. It deserved a thank you.

"Oh sorry. Thank you but really where did you get it?"

"Beneath your table."

"God! I am such an idiot... " You laughed and damn, something in his heart stopped working. He glanced at your face, how your eyes squinted forming little creases along the corners and how your lips parted ever so slightly. He has always been the sole reason for your sadness & anger. But seeing you smile and laugh because of him automatically made his own lips tug into a small smile, his eyes still concentrated on your face.

Your laugh died down as a nervous chuckle in the end when you noticed his intense gaze on you.

"I-uh... I am getting late. You make yourself at home till I get ready." You tucked a hair strand behind your ear looking at your feet. You heard Harrison lightly cough, maybe to lighten the thickening air between you both.

"Yeah."

After five minutes you showed up again cursing about already being super late.

"I should call Simon. Maybe he thinks I am flaking out!" And before you could search for his contact, your phone was snatched from your hand. Your eyes shot up only to meet Harrison's icy blue ones.

"What are doing? It's just six-ten. You don't need to call him." He told.

"But I have to reach Regan's Diner too---"

"It's just five minutes from here. I'll drive you there. You don't wanna look like an idiot apologizing for just 15 minutes..." He handed you the phone back.

"You-you will drop me?" You asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, why not. Now hurry up, you don't wanna waste any time, right?" He already opened your main door signalling you to move out.

Was it right for you to go with Harrison when you already knew how much Simon hated him?

"Y/n, we are getting late!" He yelled standing near his car, giving you no time to think too much. You would have straight away denied if you weren't so punctual and being already late wasn't making you feel guilty.

The drive was silent and you couldn't thank less. You were panicking for your date but he was panicking about something else.

What if you come to know about those messages he sent and then deleted?

"Hey hey stop, we came ahead!" You said and Harrison instantly pulled the breaks.

"Ah, sorry, I was thinking about something."

When did Harrison Osterfield start saying sorry?

"Thanks for dropping me by the way," You smiled genuinely to which he nodded. You rushed inside the restaurant asking for your reserved seat. The waiter gave you the seat and you came to know Simon didn't arrive yet.

Good, you didn't call him.

7:40 pm and Simon didn't show up yet. You rubbed the skin of your arms in concern and embarrassment or maybe shame. You tried to divert your attention by scrolling through Instagram on your phone when you heard the noise of a chair pulling in front of you. Your head shot up only to see Harrison...

"Harrison? You didn't go?---"

"Saw you waiting and well... Guess my doubts were real!"

"What guess?"

He took a seat continuing, "Simon isn't going to come. He is a jerk, he likes flaking out---"

"At least, he isn't doing anything you did at Rick's party!" You spoke straight.

"Oh, come' on. Can we just forget it." He groaned stretching his back into the chair.

"You didn't even say sorry or anything regarding it. I have the right to carry whatever feeling I have for that incident and you." You said, one hand resting on your chin while the other mindlessly making invisible patterns on the table cloth. Harrison sighed and rubbed his palms over his eyes lightly.

"Okay okay... I get it. Sorry. I am really sorry. Now can we just forget it?"

The corners of your lips tugged upwards, a small smile forming.

"Will think about it..." You said slowly.

"Hello, sir and ma'am would you like to order something?" The waitress asked coming to your table, a big smile on her face.

"Umm... Actually, someone still didn't arrive---"

"Yeah, we can start with some starters... Cheese rolls, soup. Are you good with that?" Harrison interrupted you. He looked at you and you didn't understand what to answer so nodded.

"Thank you, just give us five minutes and hope you both are enjoying your date..."

"We--no..." You tried to clarify but the waitress had already walked away. You hated it but your cheeks felt warm making you look down at the table. An uncomfortable silence enveloping the two of you.

Harrison fake coughed to get you attention, "Umm, so for how long are you been here, in London?"

You looked up at him, a bit astonished to see him actually starting a good conversation.

"Well, two years. I came here to learn from some big fashion designers basically thought of getting an internship at Joshua Kane but guess they didn't need interns." You gasped.

"So, you came here to get a job at JK?" He leaned towards the table.

"No. For learning. I actually would love ṭo start my own brand. Basically, it's my dream, goal. There's just too much competition. Seems like everyone is better than me." You pursed your lips, looking at the glass of water blankly.

"Your work is personally my favourite. I mean it doesn't look like you are any less than professionals."

No. No... That feeling you hated it. Those butterflies... Harrison Osterfield... Not a good combination.

"You're just bluffing." You say, smiling shyly.

"Don't believe me but my fortune cookie did tell me that." He lightly chuckled.

"So, you believe in those?"

"Come on Y/n. I am saying the truth..."

"Thank you..."

"Your order." The waitress served your starters.

...

"Well, then see you tomorrow..."He dropped you back home.

"Yeah..." As he left you raced inside your house almost squealing in excitement. Changing your clothes you got into your bed. You replayed your time with Harrison this evening. Your phone rang and you absolutely blocked Simon's number the exact minute he called. He flaked out in your eyes after all. But then your phone chimed.

A new message.

Jade [10:45 pm]: How was your date?

You smiled at the message and wrote without thinking twice.

Y/n [10:45 pm]: Fucking awesome!

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Succession S2E3 Thoughts

I...am sickened. And that made me hurt. Lots more under the cut. 

Overall: 

Well. That was terrible and horrifying and heart-wrenching. Obviously, Boar on the Floor was...just...the most awful thing that’s ever happened in this show. In a lot of shows, actually. It was humiliation porn, and it was sickening. It was in no way funny. And I wish Tom and Greg would run far, far away from this terrible family, but...I can’t realistically see that happening. The only redeeming thing about this episode was (aside from Connor’s continued absurdity) Tom’s decision to protect Greg, showing that, despite wanting some prestige and status for himself, he doesn’t want it that badly and that he is still different from...this fucked up family. That he has a god damn heart in there. The two of them at breakfast the next day, guh. *hugs them* I really think this bonded them more than they already were. And I kind of do want them to just...run away and open a California Pizza Kitchen. And be loved and safe. 

And, after Shiv’s continued horrible behavior towards Tom (the world, really, but especially Tom), I wish Tom would leave her, but...he won’t. It goes without saying that Logan acted in a disgusting way--beyond disgusting--but so did Shiv, as she always has; we’re just seeing it more out in the open now, more obvious. Everything she does is calculated and deliberate. And everything she does is selfish. What she pushed Tom to do was both of those things--she wanted to insulate herself from having to tell Logan what she thought of the acquisition and position herself advantageously in his mind, and she didn’t give a shit about what it might do to Tom. I can’t even get into how I feel about all this open marriage bullshit. Look, I know polyamorous relationships can and do work, but this is in no way working and in no way healthy, for them, especially for Tom. And my heart just...broke for him at the end. Just...into a million little pieces. I realize that Tom has never fully come out and told Shiv that he is absolutely not okay with this, but if she didn’t see it in his face and hear it in his voice, then she...is either more callous than I even thought or positively oblivious. But, as Shiv has said herself, the essence of a person can’t and won’t change, so I don’t see her somehow experiencing some grand revelation and changing her behavior in this relationship. I am totally mystified at how Sarah Snook (who is great, absolutely) insists that Shiv loves Tom. Completely baffled, because I continue to see...no love there, from her. I see that he loves her. I do not see that she loves him. So...color me interested to see how she changes, I guess? But right now, at this moment, I’d like to push Shiv off the top of the Empire State Building. 

And I want to surround Tom with as much love and affection as possible. Oh, speaking of Tom--I’m not sure how much more shit he can take, really. I’m worried about him. I wouldn’t be surprised if next episode includes the water bottle throwing, because, even though I think he and Greg are more bonded than ever, I think Tom has quite a bit of misplaced anger to get rid of, and I think he might hurl it in Greg’s direction. 

Kendall: I am disappointed in him. He is still a lifeless zombie, and I need awesome Kendall back. The savvy businessman with a heart. I want him back. 

Roman: I admit that I felt a tiny bit of sympathy when we really got to see the little insecure child that he really is. 

Connor: please keep being stupid, I love you. 

As I watched: 

I'm a time-pressed executive. Oh, Greg. Trying to speak so clearly, and use big words. And yet...you're failing to mention any of this is off the record. You said all the words but the most important ones. Oh, there they are. Said 'em too late. 

Who's dying? Well, Logan doesn't care, whoever it is. 

This Logan sidekick adviser guy was a Nazi in a movie, wasn't he? I swear, he was. I just can’t think of which one. 

Wow, a real meeting to executives. 

"French kissing an armadillo." A+ for that, dude. 

No, Gerri does not like this. And she's a smart lady. I'd listen to her. 

I love how Tom is trying to absorb all this Logan-and-business-related information, but...is clearly struggling to keep up. I also like that he's clearly not comfortable there. He even sat himself at the far corner of the giant table, next to no one. At least you're pretty, Tom. 

A morale booster. Uh huh. 

Oh my dear God, Connor. The ideas primary. He is nutso. So nutso. And I think Roman is serious about 1% of the time, but I totally believe him when he says Connor only knows about jail from Monopoly. 

Ha, Tabitha! You've just fucked all of NY's elite, haven't you? And Tom. Sort of. 

A big angry puffer fish bristling with dick. Bwhahaha. No, Tom, you're right, I would stay far away from whatever that is. 

You know what, Shiv? I know you're really pissed off because you weren't invited to the corporate retreat when you're...you know, not yet part of the family business, which was...your own damn choice, but don't ask Tom to do that. You know what's going to happen. 

Tom, come on. Hold your ground, maybe? 

Your meat puppet? Wow. Oh, don't try to walk it back. You're not joking. You know how I know? Because it was mean. Not funny. Okay, well, at least you can admit you weren't joking, Shiv. 

Greg, bless you. A very white, very wealthy band. U2! Ahahaha! 

Historically speaking, when I'm betrayed, it's usually you. Okay, that was kind of funny. 

No, no, no, bad time Tom. Don't talk to him now. Don't talk to him at all. Don't do it. 

WONDER WOMAN! IT WAS WONDER WOMAN. That sidekick dude was the Nazi dude or whatever evil power he represented in Wonder Woman. Ha. I remembered. 

Sam looks like a douche. Cool hair, bro. 

Was Greg in the front craning for a look around? OMG, he was. Eheheh. He's taking pictures, I love him. 

Tom in a sporty down vest. Love. 

It IS good to see Frank, actually! 

Connor's scenes have seriously become some of the most hilarious ones of the show. He is so incredibly absurd. Hyper-decanting, ahahahahahaha. I'm dying. 

I can't get over how Shiv can speak truths about other people, but be so, so hypocritical at the same time. 

Aww, Tom doesn't want to lose his buddy. A girl can start to wonder. Aw. On the friend level. Awwww! 

Ratfucker Sam! Yeah, he looks like a ratfucker. Is he nice? You're asking about the moral character of a man named Ratfucker Sam? That...is the funniest line in the show so far, OMG. 

Aw, that was a great scene, too. With Greg and Tom. Tom knows how vulnerable Greg just made himself. He knows the kind of damage he can do to Greg with this information. 

Kendall's hat! Can we talk about Kendall's hat?! 

Oh, man. Everyone is putting Tom up to be the sacrificial lamb. Oh, yikes. Poor Tom. Practically getting pushed now. Ugh, of course Gerri and Karl know Shiv asked Tom. *hugs Tom* 

Aw, Greg and Tom really are cut from the same cloth, aren't they? Tom's bizarre preamble "heads up" is almost exactly like Greg's "pre-meeting" with the author. Gaaaaah. I'm already cringing. Oh, poor, precious Tom. 

........ Just a guy who works for me? Shiv. ......fuck right the fuck off, you fuck. Also, did you take your rings off? Or is that guy just a blind moron? Don't let me down, soldier. Ugh. 

Logan, you trying to get us drunk? Taking a page out of Roman's playbook? Oh, damn. That hurt my heart. "Why don't you pipe down until you tell me I've got a grandson coming? Or are you shooting blanks?" That...man, that was even more painful for Tom than Logan intended, probably. 

This is...excruciating. 

Oooh, but what a great shot of Logan and Kendall. 

This is some nightmarish shit. This is so fucked up. I just...this is like...psychological torture. Way, way beyond bullying. This is humiliation porn, and I am a little bit sick over it, to be honest. 

Ugh, and now we get to see Shiv fuck another dude. Cool. Ah, she did take off her rings. And it is NOT simple, Shiv. It really isn't. 

Can I just...Tom needs to get all the hugs and love and ice cream ever. Just...all the cuddles. 

I think this is the strongest Tom has ever been...just...showing up to breakfast in the morning. I would have tried to become one with my bed and pretended to be dead until everyone else left. Someone please hug him. 

They need to hug Greg while they're at it. Just bear hug those two at their sad little humiliated breakfast table. At least Greg is saved. For now.

Awwww, Greg saying thanks. Tom touching him, aww. That was...nice. The only two decent hearts in the room, I swear. (For the record, Kendall, I still believe in you, but you've become a lifeless puppet, and I want you to come back, please.) A little cute, though, that Gerri is taking pity on man-child Roman. 

NOBODY KNOWS THE PRICE OF A GALLON OF MILK. I'm with Roman on this one. 

Tom, baby, just walk back out of the house and never come back. He doesn't even try to hide how he felt about that terrible...ness. Oh, god, and he's trying to stick up for himself just a little bit. SHIV, GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE WHILE HE'S TALKING, JUST ONCE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Okay, okay. Good. 

Also, Tom, it's not at all being a dick to want to have an equal say in a relationship. But, I hate to break it to you, I don't think Shiv is going to change any time soon. I just can’t see that happening. She even said so herself, that the essence of a person can’t change. 

Aaaaaand my heart just broke. Tom's little..."Oh. Maybe later." And he's so desperate for some kind of affection that he needs to hug her anyway. Guh. Just. Kill me now. That was agonizing. 

Yeah, that whole thing was agonizing.

[rainbow--letters]

The Drowning at a Party.

Meet me at Bart’s. Drowning at a party. Lestrade treating it as suspicious. - SH

Sounds thrilling but I’m busy. - JW

Mrs Hudson will watch Rosie. I know you’re at Speedy’s. Again. I’ll meet you outside in 5. - SH

John sighed as he stared at his not-so baby girl, and more screeching toddler. The books were right about that part.  

“Well let’s get you upstairs shall we. Daddy has to go and babysit his other child.” He leaned over and tugged Rosie’s cheek and she giggled loudly as he picked her up out of the high chair.

————————————

“Ah Molly, I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Sherlock called, he hadn't even turned to see who it was, but the lanky bastard always had a knack for knowing people by their footsteps.

John briefly glanced at Molly, and then once more when he noticed her lab coat didn’t seem to be drowning her petite frame due to a small rounded bump hidden under a large maroon jumper. It had only been a month since he last saw her hadn't it? He cocked his head in confusion and he caught what he imagined was his own expression mirrored on Lestrade’s face. Although Lestrade seemed to be eyeing him questionably.  

John just shrugged his shoulders in response and Lestrade mouthed the word ‘Tom’ to him. Now John knew that door had definitely been closed, locked and bolted. Once again he shrugged and Lestrade looked back to Molly again. John only just realised that Sherlock had been watching the  whole exchange, staring at the two of them like they were chimps in a zoo. John coughed and Lestrade shuffled his feet back towards the body. Both of their heads hung like reprimanded school boys.

“So, male victim, Ross Hall, 29, found dead in a pool at a party held for lifeguards celebrating no deaths this summer.” Lestrade started as he stood at the head of the body, Molly pulled back the sheet as he spoke.  

“You have got to be kidding me.” John whispered and laughed, mostly to himself, but he felt three sets of eyes suddenly glare at him.

“The only suspicion is the bruising to the back of his head.” Lestrade continued. “We wondered if it was-“

“Intentional? Don’t be ridiculous. I assume that even by your detective skills you found a small clear sealable bag in the mans back pocket, lined with a substance formed from the coca plant. Cocaine for those here who haven’t had much dealings with recreational drug use in their life.” Sherlock may have addressed the room but he was definitely glaring directly at John at that last part.

“And if you had even bothered to look at the photos of the crime scene I could actually be doing something much more productive with my time than spending it here with you lot.” John watched as Molly’s head bowed a little.  

“I thought you gave up on that blog post about the analysis of tobacco ash?” Sherlock didn’t bother to acknowledge John’s comment instead he held out his phone with the photo he had pulled up on Google images for the three of them to see.

“I actually thought to look up the location of the incident on the taxi ride here. And would you look at that in all of point seventy sixth of a second we have our answer. Come on Lestrade you can’t be telling me you didn’t pick up on the rocky water feature at the side of the pool? You know the glaringly obvious beacon in plain view.” His voice was thick with boredom.

“There was no sign the victim-“ Lestrade was silenced before he could barely begin.

“Fell onto the feature. Please, spare me. If you had bothered to even attempt to do your job today, you would have known this was just an accident.” Sherlock droned on as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“You can see that the feature is made from granite, to be precise. How awfully ornamental. Anyways, said victim had clearly snorted a line too many, but he intended to go for a swim on his own because he had already taken his shoes and pants off and they were most definitely dry. Terrible idea, I don’t condone it myself. Obviously, he lost his balance after taking off said trousers and fell back. His head hit the granite, without causing a bleed, which is possible Lestrade. Oh and if you bothered to compare it to the photo of the crime scene you’d clearly see the point five of a millimetre crack in the stone.” Sherlock held up his phone against a photo he’d snatched out of Greg’s pocket. John struggled to see the difference. Then again Sherlock always seemed to have an unnatural magnification ability when it came to detail.

“I mean come on I’ve seen harder Spot the Difference puzzles in a children’s magazine.” He replaced his phone back into his pocket and thrust the photo back into Greg’s hand. “So there it is. One coked up and drowned party guest.” Sherlock finished his statement and looked so bored John could imagine he probably wished it was he who was the one who had smashed his head and drowned.

“I’m sorry we wasted your time Molly. It seems Lestrade was looking for an excuse to get out of the office, no surprise when Sally Donovan is your partner.” With that he seemed to give Molly some sort of warming smile. John had definitely not seen that one before. But when Sherlock looked back towards Lestrade and himself it was replaced with his usual flat lined expression.

“No foul play here. Just a victim of a terrible irony. How sad. Now have you got anything actually worthy of me being dressed today or can I go back to being naked in my bed sheet?” He stared straight through Lestrade and John swore he saw a blush creep up over Molly’s features.

“That’s it for-“  

“Thank you, Greg. Maybe next time check you have inserted your neurons when you get out of bed in the morning.” Sherlock turned on his heels and was heading for the door when Lestrade, who seemed to ignore Sherlock’s comment, turned to Molly who was preparing the body to be placed back into refrigeration.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, when are you due.” That seemed to make Sherlock stop dead at the door.

“Oh, no it’s fine honestly, it’s getting past the point where I can hide it now. But I’m around sixteen weeks, I’m due in March.” She smiled sheepishly, laughing intermittently between her sentences out of awkwardness John suspected.  

“So, are you and the fath-“

“I’m sure Molly has better things to be doing than making small talk with you Lestrade. You know, like her actual job, whom unlike you she is rather more competent at.” Greg looked a little fed up after being cut off by Sherlock for the fourth time today. Rather than giving Sherlock another opportunity to silence him he held up his hands in defeat, waved to Molly and John and not so accidentally shoulder barged Sherlock as he pushed through the door.

“I know it’s been a while, but you should come over some time. Rosie will be thrilled to see you.” John spoke softly to Molly.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful. How is she?” Molly’s eyes gleamed with the promise of Rosie cuddles.

“Acting too much like a two year old for a twenty month old baby.” Molly laughed, genuinely this time and her hands came to rest on her stomach. Sherlock sighed loudly from by the door and John gave Molly a look that only those special enough to know Sherlock on a personal level would understand.

“I’ll text you later. Take care Molly.” John reached out and touched her upper arm before turning to the door to see Sherlock had already left through it. By the time he had caught up to him, they were almost at the exit.  

“You know, you can huff and puff as much as you like, you didn’t have to come today. You knew that was nowhere near a seven, so why bother?” John called from behind him.

“August is such a boring month. I mean where are the murders? It’s like someone flicked a switch and all people want to do is commit petty fraud and adultery.” Sherlock threw his head backwards in frustration.

“Yes because that it so terrible… but is this why you've been so frustrated recently? It’s the closest you’ve got to a potential murder in weeks so you wanted to check it out, even though you knew it wasn’t anything more than a drug induced accident. I'm starting to think you just like seeing dead bodies.” Sherlock looked down at him with his trademark smirk and took off towards the road, John hurried behind as per usual until he reached his friend's side as they stood waiting on the curb.

"So, Molly Hooper's pregnant." John grinned impishly up at his friend, Sherlock's eyes narrowed back at him.

"Yes John, no need to state the obvious." Sherlock mumbled as he quickly pulled out his phone to check the time.

"Know, I mean come on. Who do you reckon is the father? Unless you already know, which you probably do." John asked eagerly, convinced Sherlock would have some insight on the situation.

"You're very good at asking questions John. Maybe you should use that wonderfully honed skill of yours and ask Molly yourself." Sherlock had clearly tired quickly of this conversation, as his attention became absorbed by phone and his rather pathetic looking inbox.

"Suit yourself." John muttered to himself as he pulled back his coat sleeve to check his watch. After he was reassured they were well within the time he told Mrs Hudson he would be back in to pick up Rosie, he rolled his shoulders back and stared across the road. A young woman with a child of no more than two years old were sat sharing a chocolate ice cream on a bench at the bus stop.  

John thought back to Molly. They had lost touch a little bit since Sherringford. Molly seemed to throw herself in to work, similarly to himself. Her shifts never seemed to match up to child sociable hours. And with the lack of murders, thankfully, there were less frequent visits to the morgue.  

But pregnant?  

I mean he couldn't remember her bringing up her love life. He was no fan of womanly gossip, but he definitely couldn't recall her speaking of a new love interest. Sherlock jostled beside him as he dropped his phone back into his pocket as a black cab came into view.

Anyways, she seemed delighted about the baby, so John concluded he had no reason not to be happy for her and he smiled to himself. By the looks of her she would have her baby by the end of winter, maybe spring time if she was around the gestation period he assumed by her bump. If all things went well, maybe Rosie would have a playmate in a couple of years time.

“She’s sixteen weeks and four days.” Sherlock spoke to the air in front of him.

“What?” John asked out in confusion.

“One hundred and sixteen days to be exact. And her due date is the twelfth of March. I told you before you think too loud.” Sherlock shouted as he flagged down a cab.  

Hang on.  

——————————————

John sat back in his armchair and rubbed the bridge of his nose as a dull ache throbbed behind his eye sockets. Since Sherlock's disclosure of Molly's imminent arrival, John felt as if his best friend may have been hiding something. That night after they had been to the morgue the thought hit him like a big, red London bus as he made himself his last cup of tea for the night. As the kettle clicked, the spoon in John's hand bounced off of the kitchen top.  

What if it's Sherlock?

The thought had haunted John for the next few weeks as John wrestled with theories in his head. Now Sherlock wouldn’t like to admit it, but if there’s one thing he had in common with his brother it was that they were both good at knowing things about other people. 

The likeliness of this scenario was that Molly was considered a close friend to Sherlock. Even after the events of Sherringford the pair seemed to have resolved their differences. They told John they were strictly friends. Completely platonic. John doubted this at first, after all he saw Sherlock break into pieces in that room. Yet, the dust eventually settled. Quite literally. As 221b was restored to its former bachelor pad glory and Sherlock and Molly resumed their working relationship. He suspected Sherlock wanted to know as much about Molly’s ‘situation’ because that’s just who Sherlock Holmes was.

He had always thought that maybe Ms Adler had worked her way back into his clutches. Her text tone had been very active as of late, he had noted. He always thought something was going on between them. None of it made any sense, until today happened.  

Molly had been over earlier to see Rosie again. He wasn’t sure whether it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact that Rosie was such a delightful baby, but Molly had been over a lot in the past few weeks since he’d seen her in Bart’s. The odd time that Molly had been over, Sherlock occasionally stopped by. This included today’s visit. What got to John was that Sherlock didn't seem to be coming over to see him. He spent most of his time watching Molly with Rosie. Occasionally he would pick Rosie up, point and spout dictionary definitions of inanimate objects littered around the living room. Apart from that, he would sit on the sofa with his legs crossed and observe.

It was when John had excused himself for ten minutes, to put the endless pile of washing away, he returned to the most peculiar sight. Molly was sat in the arm chair, Rosie curled awkwardly into her side and around her bump as Molly read her ‘Guess How Much I Love You.’

He hovered in the doorway, unseen by both Sherlock and Molly that he felt like an intruder in his own home. As Molly performed the actions in the book, stretching her arms out wide, Rosie copied her every move. The pair were absorbed in each other; Sherlock was absorbed by them. He watched onwards and when Molly turned her head to look at Sherlock sat opposite her, he returned such a tender and open smile that John was convinced he was an imposter.  

He was momentarily sucked into whatever this thing was between his two friends, the door creaked with his weight and the moment vanished in the blink of an eye. Sherlock stood promptly, dusted off invisible crumbs from his sleeve and Molly focused her attention back to Rosie who was starting to doze against her shoulder.  

Sherlock left without barely a word, just buttoned up his suit jacket, nodded once at John and left swiftly. Not long after Sherlock’s departure, Molly stood with Rosie still firmly attached to her. John got the message and took Rosie out of her arms as Molly put on her jacket. She made her excuses, it was her second ultrasound scan in the morning and she wanted to be well rested. She kissed both John and Rosie on the cheek and left quietly.

So now John felt he needed to put this to bed once and for all. He knew that if he asked Molly directly, she would probably deny it. And Sherlock? Well he didn't know where to begin with that conversation. Instead, he formulated a plan to try and answer the mystery which had plagued him for weeks.  

————————————

John couldn’t believe he was doing this. Who did he think he was? James Bond? He almost scoffed. He couldn’t resist, what he saw yesterday required a much deeper investigation. He knew Molly had her appointment at ten at the UCL Hospital this morning. He was always glad that Molly blabbed too much when she was nervous or uncomfortable, like last night. If he suspected what he thought was happening, then a certain curly haired, lanky git would also be there too.  

He had dropped Rosie off with Mrs Hudson for the morning. He loved her dearly but she would most definitely be a hindrance in his task. He got to the hospital relatively early and managed to find a cafe just outside the entrance to the maternity ward. After twenty minutes he saw Molly half waddle half walk down the corridor and straight past John and through the doors to the ward. John kept the broadsheet over his face until the door to the ward had almost closed behind her.

Okay, so she was alone. But John knew Sherlock better than that. He knew that if Sherlock rocked up to a hospital with a pregnant woman on his arm the media would have a field day. If he entered on his own, it was less suspicious. Almost as if on cue, not five minutes later, he breezed in from a different direction to Molly. Of course he probably used an inconspicuous entrance.  

John felt so smug with himself for being right that he almost forgot what his investigation may just have proven. Molly was, quite possibly, pregnant with Sherlock’s baby. John’s stomach sank like a stone and he suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. He stood from the cheap MDF chair, walked out of the hospital and all the way back to Baker Street.  

He heard music and giggles coming from Mrs Hudson’s flat, but he didn’t stop in to say hi. He marched straight up the stairs and sat in his old chair and waited. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but when Sherlock eventually returned home he all but raced up the stairs like a gazelle and his face was beaming until he turned around to see John sat staring at him.

“Ah, John. Have you come to tell me you’ve fixed the visitor counter on your site again? I noticed it must have been off a few week’s back.” Sherlock mumbled as he shrugged out of his Belstaff.

“It’s you. You’re the father of Molly Hooper’s child.” John proclaimed loudly, and he watched as Sherlock glanced to the door.

“And finally the penny has dropped.” Sherlock answered unenthusiastically as he hung up his coat.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not my problem you’re so obtuse.” Sherlock all but collapsed into his chair. He popped the button on his suit jacket as he leaned back into the cushion.

"Hang on. You were trying to tell me? But Irene Adler? The text tone?” John questioned.

“A red herring. Oh and it’s surprisingly easy to set a provocative text tone onto one of your contacts.” Sherlock examined his fingernails.

“So all this time. All this time you were messaging Molly, not Irene Adler.” John struggled to hide the shock in his voice.

“Well, for the past six months. Yes. I pretty much had to plant the seed, otherwise I never thought you'd get there.” Sherlock shot John a demeaning glance.

“So you mean at Bart’s, with the drown victim?” John sat forward in his chair.

“Yes, of course John, do keep up.” Sherlock exhaled loudly and rubbed his brow.

“You dragged me to Bart’s because you knew I would see Molly and start to suspect who the father was.” John could feel himself becoming more frustrated.

“I wouldn’t say I dragged you.”

“You didn’t think to just sit me down, preferably with a pint, and tell me ‘oh guess what John, I knocked Molly Hooper up’ that would have been the much easier thing to do.” John's voice became elevated with anger.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“You know not everything has to be a game Sherlock. And this - this baby is most definitely not a game. Neither is Molly’s life.” He was aware he sounded angry and his tone was harsh, but Sherlock had gone too far.  

“I would never treat my child or the mother of my child like a game. Is that really what you think of me?” Sherlock shot up from his chair. The mood changed so suddenly, like someone had flicked a light switch. John felt slightly threatened by his best friend as he towered over him.  

“I-I thought you two we-were-“ John stuttered out of shock.

“Completely platonic? We were for the most.” Sherlock composed himself, calmly sitting back into his chair. His fingers tapped the ends of the arms.

“Yes. I mean when did this all happen?” John asked softly. He relaxed further back into his chair.

“One hundred and thirty five days ago, if you wanted to-“  

“No, Sherlock, I don’t mean the conception of your child. I mean you and Molly.” Sherlock seemed to pause slightly at this.

“Two nights after Sherringford.” John knew that this was all he was going to get out of him on this topic. He also knew better than to ask how the child was conceived. He didn’t want to think about-

“It was the biological way.” John's thoughts were interrupted.

“I’m sorry?”  

“The baby. It was conceived through sexual intercourse. Honestly John, you may as well stream your thoughts across your forehead on a ticker banner.” Sherlock tossed his eyes back into his head.

“I wasn’t going to ask. But, erm, congratulations? I mean is it congratulations because you haven’t given much indication towards your feelings on the situation." John pried a little more.  

"It's not planned if that's what you're suggesting? Although I do feel a sense of accomplishment at passing down fifty percent of my genetic makeup to a member of the next generation. I never thought I'd find it exciting, but pregnancy is fascinating. Plus, Molly gets the baby she always wanted, and my parents get the grandchild they never thought they'd have. Also, the sex was surprisingly not as vanilla as I would have expected from Molly. She has got quite a tongue-“

“Honestly, Sherlock. There is no need to paint a picture.” John stared at the latest pending member of the fatherhood club. This was definitely Eurus’ fault. “So, do you have any plans?” John posed the question with the tone of a life councilor.

“Of course. She’s going to stay at her flat, raise the baby there. It’s three bedroomed, plenty of space and not to mention somewhat more suitable for an infant.” John watched as Sherlock’s eyes darted around the flat.

“And you’re going to remain living here? Is this what you want or what Molly wants?” John tried to wrap his head around the situation. Did Sherlock think the baby was going to be a compulsory hobby for the next eighteen years?

“Molly understands the nature of my work. My life has always been unpredictable and there are people who know me who don’t like me or what I do. People who would like to see me hurt.” John registered his friend's words carefully.  

“Ah. You're protecting them. You don’t want people to know the baby is yours. This is why you’ve both been very hush hush about the pregnancy. That also explains the text tone. You were throwing people off of the scent.” Sherlock cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair.  

“We both agreed it’s probably for the best, for the first few months anyway. I don't want my child becoming mindless brain fodder in any form of media outlet.” John looked understandingly at Sherlock. “For the first few weeks, I will stay at Molly’s. As often as I can. I will still take on cases; Domestic only. Apparently babies are a leech on ones wallet.”

“And then…” John spread his hands out in the air in a questioning gesture.

“I’ll move back here. See Molly and the baby a few times a week, take on more cases and eventually get back into the good stuff, I suppose.” Sherlock, sat firmly back into his chair, seemingly impressed with his answer.

“You suppose? The woman you confessed your love to, albeit forced, is going to give birth to and raise your child and you're going to stay here and play Consultant Detective like always? Do you want my honest opinion?” John asked forcefully. There was no way he was leaving without throwing his tuppence worth into the ring.

“I’ve never not been with you.” Sherlock sniffed and turned his head away.

“I don’t think you’ll want to move back. Irregardless of what you think about people wanting to hurt you. You know your brother would always watch out for your family." Sherlock looked directly at him as he spoke that final word. "I think you think you can just waltz in and play happy families for a few weeks and then detach yourself. Trust me if you can hold that baby in your arms and honestly turn to me and say you can walk away from them, then I don’t know you at all Sherlock Holmes. You’re not the lone wolf you think you are.” John followed Sherlock's gaze. He was looking at a photo frame from Rosie's christening. He remembered Mrs Hudson bringing it up once the refurbishment was complete. John smiled as he cast his eyes over his late wife, then he looked to Sherlock and Molly stood side by side.  

"Do you love her?" The question seemed to hang in the air.

"Why are you so obsessed with trying to get me to play happy families?" Sherlock sounded bored, but John could tell he'd unsettled something within the Consultant Detective.

"Because you have a chance to grasp something I once had; happiness." John could feel himself becoming moved. Memories of Mary flooded his thoughts.

"Are you saying I'm not happy now?" Sherlock asked defensively, he pulled his hands down into his lap.

"No, I don't think you're as happy as you could be. You can have it all, you know? The job you've always loved and a family who will love you unconditionally. You're a good man, Sherlock. But I really do think this is your last opportunity." John recognised the look that cast a shadow over Sherlock's face. He stood up and walked over to his friend and crouched next to him.

"You're scared you'll fail." Sherlock cast John a glance. His quietness spoke more than his words ever could in this moment. "I'm not saying it will be easy, because it won't. I don't expect Molly or the baby to give you an easy ride either. If there's one thing I know about you Sherlock Bloody Holmes is you are not a failure." He firmly patted his hand on his friend's back reassuringly.  

Sherlock didn't respond at first. His hand moved to the inside of his jacket pocket and withdrew a small black and white photograph and he sat and stared at it for a small while. John watched quietly from beside him. Sherlock's face was blank but John knew the cog's in his mind were working overtime. He hoped he was filing this memory away in that palace of his. Then John did the last thing he expected himself to do and he laughed.  

“I’m sorry. Did I miss the punchline?” Sherlock stirred from his trance and raised one of his large bushy eyebrows.

“No, I just imagined you arms deep in a shit filled nappy.”

————————————————-

John took the stairs two at a time as he proceeded up the endless concrete steps. At the top, the fire door was propped open with a plastic chair and John smirked. He pushed the chair aside and walked onto the roof as the London sky line twinkled in the backdrop. The sharp Spring night air stung at his face. The figure leaning over the railings hadn’t acknowledged his presence, just kept staring out into the city, a cigarette dangling from his lips.  

John walked up beside him and reached into the pockets of his jacket and removed two whisky glasses and a hip flask. The clink of the glasses caused the tall figure to turn and look towards him.

“What are you doing?” He questioned as John placed the glasses on the ledge and poured two equal, and very strong, measurements of whiskey.

“A toast.” John answered as he handed Sherlock a glass.

“A toast?” Sherlock echoed, John nodded and joined his friend against the railings.

“To fatherhood. A thankless job with ridiculous hours and a shit wage.” He clinked his glass with Sherlock’s and let the liquor run smooth and warm down his throat. Sherlock hesitated a moment, stubbed out his cigarette then swilled the glass twice before mimicking John and polishing off the amber liquid.  

“He’s a cracker, Sherlock.” John watched as Sherlock’s lips turned upwards and he looked so proud and dare he say it, content. They stayed silent for a moment. John watched out of the corner of his eye as the emotions of pure love, adoration, fear and terror passed over Sherlock’s face all at once. The same expressions he had once worn a time ago.

“Are you going to ask me?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“Ask you what?” John feigned ignorance, but he knew exactly what Sherlock was thinking.

“Well I know I’m not holding my son in my arms but-“  

“If you could still walk away? Well could you?” A brief silence followed John's question and a sharp breeze cut through them like a knife.

“No. No, I couldn't. Just being up on this roof is torture, but I've never needed a smoke so much in all of my life. Plus, Mycroft has his army of baboons littered like roaches all over the building, which rules out the main entrances.” Sherlock shared one of his rare bedazzling smiles. John laughed and clapped his friend on the back. He knew that Sherlock was grateful deep down of the security his brother provided.

“Mrs Hudson is going to secretly miss having you around.” John spoke sadly, although his tone was lighthearted. Sherlock continued to smile out into the city. John knew then Sherlock had made his decision.

“I’m also ruling out domestic cases for the next eight weeks at least. You know newborns can recognise their parent's faces by the time they are two months old?” Sherlock spoke with the excitement of a child in a sweet shop. John responded instantly with a knowing smile, sharing his friend's excitement of his newfound fatherhood.

“You’re going to be bloody fantastic, Sherlock Holmes.”

[davewakeman]

Talking Tickets: 21 February 2020--MLB! NBA! NHL! And More!

Hey everybody! 

How’s your week? Let me know!

If you haven’t had a chance to fill out my short survey yet, I’d appreciate it if you’d take 3-4 minutes to share your thoughts and ideas so that I can make sure this newsletter and the podcast continue to deliver value to y’all.

Anytime you want to say hello or share something with me, you can always reply to this email…you definitely will get a response from a live human.

To the tickets!

————————————————————————————————————

1. MLB continues to struggle to put the Astros’ sign-stealing scandal in the rearview mirror:

My frustration with baseball is that they just are always on the back foot to use a soccer term.

This week really highlighted the challenge that is going to have for the game to ever right its ship.

I know they report that they are making more money than ever, but from an attendance standpoint, reporting tickets distributed while Twitter is showing you stadiums sitting there with 3,000-5,000 fans a lot of nights isn’t a great look.

Compare MLB’s reaction to the Astros scandal with the way that Man City’sbreach of Financial Fair Play in Europe is being handled and you see a leadership gap, which hasn’t been helped by the Rob Manfred trying to throw the blame everywhere but his office.

From a marketing standpoint, a tough situation, selling baseball in a crowded market, has gotten more difficult.

I’ll type up some more thoughts about this on my blog, but here are a few actionable things:

1. Stop digging. Rob Manfred’s PR team shouldn’t keep running him out there if he is just saying the same things. If you find yourself in a PR crisis, please don’t just start saying crazy things.

2. Step back and focus on how you are going to move forward. Just speaking about the scandal in the past tense isn’t very effective. You have to have a clear plan for moving forward.

In any organization, change begins by sharing a compelling vision for the future. This is obviously a challenge for MLB and all the teams, not just the ones directly implicated in the scandal. The teams need some leadership and a vision for how this ends and how the game gets back on the front foot, their partners and sponsors need this, and their fans and customers deserve it.

3. I’ve worked with teams that have won the World Series and one of the coolest things from my teenage years was making friends with a member of the World Series winning Big Red Machine teams and going over to my friend’s house to see his replica trophies.

Don’t slag on your trophies, ever. Those trophies represent much of the power and emotional connection your fans have to your sport and if you are crapping on that, why are people supposed to even care?

2. The NBA is seeing some financial challenges from their dust-up with China:

I’ve had the flu this week and I haven’t had the voice to record the intro to a new, updated episode with Greg Turner about doing business in China, but if you can make out anything from the first episode, it would be how this was to be expected. (Technical difficulties due to the firewall in China’s internets caused the first episode to be a big disjointed.)

It seems like the NBA is reporting taking about a 4% hit on revenue this year due to standing up for their beliefs in dealing with China.

In a world where brands are all shouting about how “cause marketing” is so important, real cause marketing means you put your bottom line on the line. The NBA did that, on purpose or not.

To me, the more problematic situation that the NBA is facing right now is a ratings slump at the local level with the Warriors falling 66% and the average team down 13%. Which mirror a slump in the NBA’s ratings this year despite a jump in viewership for this year’s All-Star Game.

Right now, we see the NFL rushing to finish up a new labor deal so that they can negotiate their next round of TV deals while extreme premiums are still likely to be had.

My concern is that losing ratings for a season isn’t going to harm the NBA too much, but if the trend of NBA viewing continues to lag, the issues in China become a multi-year challenge, and maybe you have some more injuries, retirements, or other on-court issues…the revenue becomes challenged. And, that trickles down to raising ticket prices, concessions, and merchandise to levels that to higher levels than they are now.

I mean, you’re already seeing in New Orleans with Zion.

As we’ve seen since the online shopping has become so prominent, we have trained consumers to wait and shop for deals. We’ve also seen an entire generation of marketers and business folks that have become almost blindly committed to managing by spreadsheet while consumer spending on experiences has increased dramatically.

TV viewership is a fickle beast. Live by the sword, die by the sword…I guess.

The real focus here has to be on creating communities of fans around teams, communities, stories, and experiences. These can absolutely happen online and offline.

P.S. The NHL is having hiccups as well. This can be even more problematic because the NHL probably would benefit from more television exposure.

3. Rage Against The Machine is raising money for charity and taking on the secondary market: 

I’m going to guess that the Rage Against The Machine tour is going to be interesting. It is their first tour in a decade. It is an election year. It seems like a perfect storm for them, yeah?

This idea that Rage is going to thwart the secondary market would seem consistent with their ethos. Raising money for charities also seems on brand.

Where the big challenge comes in, is whether or not the charity pricing aspect was explained clearly at the start.

Pearl Jam does a similar thing with their charity tickets that support their Vitalogy Foundation. They handle it slightly differently, which I think helps with the messaging and the fan blowback.

To me, this is just a situation where if you have a fan base and you can sell the tickets directly with no issues at all, sell. But today’s consumer also has a higher expectation of transparency…so that if you are going to institute a charity program like Rage to fight the secondary market, just share that at the start.

BTW, where did Tom Morello get his “85% of the secondary market” comment anyway?

And, Don Vaccaro and TicketNetwork have committed to donating all their service fees from the first 3 shows in March to National Action Network, the civil-rights organization founded by the Reverend Al Sharpton.

4. Congress is going to continue to investigate the world of tickets: 

Just as I trying to close out this week’s newsletter, this news came down the pipe. So, on February 26th, 2020, Congress is going to hold a hearing on tickets.

This comes on the heels of a letter being released that Pearl Jam sent to Representative Frank Pallone Jr on Wednesday saying that the BOSS act will hurt consumers and pointing to transferability and transparency of the number of tickets being on sale would be bad for consumers.

After the release of Pearl Jam’s letter, Bill Pascrell sent out a release of his own rejecting Pearl Jam’s feedback on the BOSS act.

This continued investigation of the ticket business is a global trend. Last week, I talked about the CMA in the UK halting the Viagogo & StubHub merger due to their concerns, even as the US government approved the deal despite these objections.

And, this week, news out of Australia shows that people are rallying around an Information Standard in regards to the secondary market.

Along with the UK government stating they will investigate the illegal resale of football tickets in the UK after a report in the Guardian uncovered the ins and outs of massive football ticket resale.

As for how do you approach this story:

* Pay attention to what comes out of next week’s hearing. I stated at the time of the workshop in June of 2019 that I felt like this would be an issue that would hang over the industry through the election because it is easy for both sides to beat down on ticket sellers, technology companies, resellers, and everyone involved in the industry directly or indirectly. Fun for the whole family.

* I’d also pay attention to what gets defined as “consumer” friendly. I’m on the side of giving Pearl Jam the benefit of the doubt. They’ve worked pretty hard and taken steps that definitely haven’t been in their own best interests to do what was right for their fans, but I’m also conscious of unintended consequences.

5. Red Bull shows how to grow a team from the ground up: 

RB Leipzig beat Spurs 1-0 on Wednesday! (Just adding to the suffering of having the flu. You think Dele was mad…try watching a poor showing while barely keeping your eyes open and feeling like reheated death!)

But this story is really great in the context of the continuing story of the Astros scandal in the States, Man City in Europe, and Thursday’s news of the arrest of PSG’s president for bribery.

Closer to home for me, it highlights what is possible with vision as the Mets are for sale and the sale has started to have its own amount of drama…and, as the Knicks continue to struggle at MSG.

3 things here:

1. Vision is so important. Melbourne FC just released a plan this week for their fans. It was called out on Australian radio, but without a plan and a vision…you don’t ever reach your potential.

2. Winning matters, but community is powerful. I’ve given this speech on 3 continents now…but you can’t just sell winning, you need to build a community. Leipzig is showing that now and we can see in a lot of places that there is a thing like winning fatigue. Or, in the case of the Warriors, a new arena and a lot of winning aren’t going to fix a bad season in every case.

3. Marketing matters: Red Bull’s involvement in sports and the way they have managed their teams shows that they understand the value of marketing and they understand that great brands, teams, and organizations aren’t built in a day.

While their teams haven’t been successful 100% of the time, they have been consistent and have continued to focus on their vision, their values, and their message over and over. That’s something we can all learn from. —————————————————————————————————————-

What am I up to this week?

I’ve got a couple of webinars coming up this week starting with Wednesday’s visit of my ebook created in partnership with Booking Protect: What Matters In Ticketing Now.  Sign up for the webinar and learn ideas, trends, and actions that you can take to put these insights to work for your business. 

On Thursday, I’m turning my eye to sales by putting together: The Language of the Sale–10 Ways To Use Language More Effectively In Your Sales Process. This is built on the last 6-9 months of sales training I’ve done with teams around the world and this one will be fast and actionable for your team as soon as you get through with the webinar.

Check out the podcast archives: new episodes coming this week now that my voice is coming back. If you have suggestions for guests and the podcast, fill out the survey at the top of the page. 

Please follow and like us:

Talking Tickets: 21 February 2020–MLB! NBA! NHL! And More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group

[sunken-standard]

#142 "Hold my hand so he gets jealous"

“Oh fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Sherlockasked, looking up from his phone to see that Molly had gone pale,looking past his shoulder to the front of the cafe.

“It’s Tom,” she said.

“Oh.”  He thought for amoment it was something interesting, like a group of Russian mobsterswith automatic weapons or maybe a rampaging lion escaped from thezoo.  "Is he with anyone?“

“Some bloke in a business suit,probably a client or a new employee or something,” she said,sliding down in her seat as much as she could.  

“Molly, you’re not a heroine in arom-com, you’re going to slide off the chair and end up flat on yourarse on the floor.  Here, hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?”she hissed, straightening and lacing her fingers with his over thetable.

He let his expression soften intosomething affectionate, besotted; it was the way he felt around hermost of the time anyway, so it wasn’t hard to fake.  "There’s afine line between cliche and classic,“ he flirted.  "Youcould make a bit more of an effort.”

Molly gave him a flat look that spoketo just how unimpressed she was, which actually worked rather well inits own way because it’s a look he’d seen her direct at The Ex ratherfrequently.

“So we’re actually doing this? You know this is exactly why he and I split in the first place.”

“No, you split because he was aninsufferable dullard and quantity didn’t make up for quality in thebedroom.”  At her incredulous look, he added, “Your words,not mine.”

“My words to Mary Watson,”she gritted out.  "Fuck-fuck-fuck, here he comes.“

"That’s what she sai—” Molly kicked him under the table.  Hard.

“Molly, hi,” Tom enthused,loping over to the table like a poodle on stilts.  "Sherlock,“he smiled, sticking out his hand.

Nothing for it, he supposed, slippinghis hand from Molly’s (rather conspicuously) and standing to shakeTom’s hand and be introduced to his very dull, boring,non-Russian-mafia-or-zookeeper shadow.  Molly got a very quick,polite hug and a handshake from the [something finance, banker’shours, has a car, boring boring boring] probably-school-friend.

Introductions; oh, your name is Tomtoo, oh Thom with an ‘h’, haha; small talk small talk; yes, we werejust at the British Museum, Molly was looking over some bones with acolleague, even ancient murders can shed light on modern forensics;The Work is always interesting, always something new; oh, you’ve beenkeeping up with the blog, John does so love to exaggerate, hahaha;yes yes, good to see you again.  His face felt like it was going tofall off from all the plastic smiles.  Tom and other-Thom moved tofind themselves a table and Molly almost collapsed with the relief ofit.

"You could have put your armaround me or something,” Molly said after they were safely outof earshot.

“That would oversell it, make melook insecure.  Obviously I have nothing to be insecure about,considering I won.  I’m a gracious winner.”

“Right, because you never gloatabout anything.  Like the time you won Uno.  Or Snakes and Ladders. Or Battleship, which you only won because you cheated.”

“Everyone cheats at Battleship. It’s like poker, it’s all about the bluff.”

She gave him another Look, so he tookher hand again.  He was keeping an eye on the Toms-squared just tomake sure they were watching.  They weren’t.  The Ex didn’t reallyeven seem to care, too absorbed in his old school friend to noticemuch of anything.

She didn’t need to know that.  Shecouldn’t see them, after all.  "You could fawn over me a bit,“he said.

"What about not overselling it?”

“Well I couldn’t oversellit, but it’s almost expected of you.  You want to show you’ve movedon so you’ll overcompensate to prove it.  It’s what you do.”

“Do I?” she asked, cockingher head an raising her eyebrows in a way that said he was skating onthin ice.

“'Jim wasn’t my boyfriend, we onlywent out three times, I ended it,’” he said, doing his bestimpersonation of her.  It was actually rather good, he thought,almost as good as his John.  Always harder to nail a falsetto,though.

“You can’t remember GregLestrade’s name, but you can quote something I said three years agoverbatim.”

Bollocks.  He only remembered becausehis comeback had been particularly witty.  And because he’dinadvertently committed as much of that day to memory as possible andreplayed it in the two years he was away, as it was a turning pointof sorts.  Not that he was in any way sentimental about that kind ofthing.

“It was about Moriarty, Iremembered everything about Moriarty in case it was useful.” Decent save.

“Uh huh.”  She stared at him.

“He keeps glancing over here—”it was a lie “—you should do something.”

“Like what?  I’m already holdingyour hand.  Shall I come sit in your lap?”

Oh God yes please.  "Idon’t know, laugh or something.  Look happy.  Like you actually wantto be here with me.  Or maybe just like you don’t want to reachacross the table and strangle me.“

"Those three things aren’tmutually exclusive.  It’s pretty much its own state of being, theGermans probably have a word for it.”  

Molly’s thumb brushed over his, sendinga shiver down his spine that wasn’t just from the too-light touch. He chewed the corner of his lip, thinking that now would be eitherthe best or the worst time for The Ex to actually look over at them.

“Have we sat here long enough forit not to be weird if we left?” Molly asked.  

“You haven’t finished yoursandwich,” he pointed out.  Really, now that he had the chance,he was going to make the most of it.

“Kinda not hungry any longer. I’ll just take it home and finish it later,” she said, slidingher hand free from his to get her handbag.  She produced an evidencebag and stuffed the rest of her sandwich and chips into it, then tookthe chips he had left on his plate.  

He was pretty sure she wouldn’t do thaton an actual date, but she would in a long-term relationship.  Heshot a smug look to Tom-and-Tomtoo, but they still weren’t payingattention.  

After they stood, he held out his handfor her to take while Molly twisted and gave The Ex one last littledorky-polite wave (God she was so cute he couldn’t stand itsometimes, he just wanted to chew on her head like a lion,which—oddly—seemed to be the theme of the day for him, maybe he’dask her to go to the zoo sometime).  Molly interlaced her fingerswith his and he led her from the cafe with his own parting look toThe Ex; the thinned lips and narrowed eyes were every bit assatisfying as he thought they’d be.

They didn’t get a cab right away; itwas a bit overcast but not too hot for the height of summer andwalking seemed like the thing to do.  He didn’t let her hand drop andMolly didn’t pull away; he wasn’t going to let himself read too muchinto it.  They’d both pretend they’d forgot or that it hadn’thappened at all.  That was alright, though; little victories.

[romcomathon2016]

You’ve Got Mail (USA, 1998)

Dear Romcomathon Readership,

One year ago today, we published our very first Romcomathon entry, The Holiday (USA, 2006). In honor of our shock that a) this project is still going a year later and b) people read it -- hundreds of people! (Not that many hundreds. A small hundred. And some people on Facebook, who don't have Tumblr. Ahem. Anyway, to thank you all for your patronage) -- we've decided to publish a special, one-year-anniversary edition, in which we review a beloved romcom that otherwise would not qualify: You've Got Mail.

Predictions: YOU'VE GOT MAIL, DEAR READER. It says, "Get off the blog and go watch this movie, if you haven't already seen it." (No predictions.)

Plot: Meg Ryan is the charming owner of a charming children's bookstore on the Upper West Side. She inherited it from her mother and runs it with a band of quirky employees. Meanwhile, Tom Hanks is the scion of what is essentially Barnes & Noble, if Barnes & Noble were run by one specific family (is it? We don't know), and Barnes & Noble is coming to town. Meg Ryan is dating Greg Kinnear, while Tom Hanks is dating Parker Posey, but, unbeknownst to any of the four of them, Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are involved in a...shall we say, increasingly emotionally-invested email relationship. Meg Ryan, as "Shopgirl" (terrible screenname, Meg Ryan, why), confesses all her private thoughts to Tom Hanks, as "NY152" (boring screenname, Tom Hanks, why), but they're both careful not to reveal any personal information.

Meanwhile, in person, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan do meet, but almost immediately hate each other. Meg Ryan's bookstore, while exceptionally charming, is admittedly pricey, and, whether he means to or not, Tom Hanks is obviously putting her out of business. The two of them begin to spend what seems like all their time a) arguing with each other in person and b) telling each other about it online. Finally, they decide to meet. Meg Ryan arrives first. Tom Hanks, in turn, arrives with his friend, Dave Chappelle, and they SEE HER, and realize that she is, you know, the same person. Tom Hanks, feeling that he couldn't possibly reveal the truth, decides to pop in anyway and be a tool, as his real-life self. Sure, sure. Good choices, Tom Hanks.

Eventually, Meg Ryan’s store does close. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan also both break up with the people they have been emotionally cheating on. They start to become friends offline, against all odds, after Tom Hanks shows up unannounced one day with flowers. (Personally, we would IMMEDIATELY remove him from our home, but, well, Meg Ryan doesn't.) They start hanging out, like, all the time, weirdly, and she tells him about...himself ("NY152"). Until, finally, she's like, I should meet this guy, but also, I kind of like Tom Hanks???? How awkward. Lucky for her, they meet up in the park, and, surprise, it is Tom Hanks. She's so glad. We're so glad. They kiss.

Best Scene: The end. The end is perfect. Also, their weird friendship is delightful, especially when Tom Hanks starts ragging on himself and making shit up about how unattractive "NY152" could be. Honorary mention: Tom Hanks's hangout with his child relatives. Super cute.

Worst Scene: At one point, Meg Ryan is in the "cash only" line at a store, and Sara Ramirez does not want to take her credit card, AS WELL SHE SHOULDN'T, MEG RYAN, BECAUSE YOU ARE IN THE CASH-ONLY LINE. First of all, wtf is a cash-only line? Was this a thing back in the dark days of 1998?? Second of all, Tom Hanks then comes up and -- oh, is he going to lend her some cash? How nice. NO. INSTEAD, HE SWEET-TALKS SARA RAMIREZ INTO TAKING HER CARD. IN THE CASH-ONLY LINE. HOW MAD WOULD YOU BE IF YOU WERE BEHIND THEM IN LINE???? SO MAD. SO MAD.

Best Line: "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." -- Meg Ryan, at the end, obviously. Honorary mention: the rest of the film. JK. But, like, not JK. OKAY, FINE, WE'LL BE MORE SPECIFIC. "Well… If you don't like Kathleen Kelly, I can tell you right now...you ain't gonna like this girl." -- Dave Chappelle, scoping out Tom Hanks's blind date for him, with the most perfect delivery. It is, like almost every second of this film, absolutely wonderful.

Worst Line: "In the last mayoral election, when Rudy Giuliani was running against Ruth Messinger, I went to get a manicure and forgot to vote." -- Meg Ryan, defiantly, at Greg Kinnear, as if it's insane that he...what?? Insists that people vote???? GOD, WHAT A MONSTER YOU ARE, GREG KINNEAR, FOR CARING ABOUT THE STATE OF THE WORLD. Dear Meg Ryan, we very much hope you've since revised your position on voting. :|

Highlights of the Watching Experience: Ooooo, so many, you guys. 1) Remember videos? Remember when you'd rent them from places? Lolz. 2) What is this Christmas song with all the musical instruments, that all of Meg Ryan's friends and family seem to know the words to?? 3) Bertie. What was her relationship with Meg Ryan's mom, that she's WEARING HER PICTURE IN A LOCKET???? 4) Last but certainly not least, "Who would have thought that I would write?" muses Meg Ryan, thoughtfully, near the end of the film. Um, everyone, Meg Ryan. You're a bookstore owner who's carrying on an email romance. Everyone would have thought you would write. In fact, you know what would be much more surprising? is if you did not write.

How Many POC in the Film: Sara Ramirez. Dave Chappelle. And… *crickets*

Alternate Scenes: The version of this film where Meg Ryan didn't FORGET TO VOTE. How do you FORGET TO VOTE???? First of all, Meg Ryan, how long does a manicure take -- half an hour? An hour?? GO TO THE POLLS. You are self-employed. You can give yourself thirty minutes to vote in a local election. Local government is important, Meg Ryan, especially when your local government is NEW YORK CITY. Hey, how's it going, Meg Ryan? It's 2016. Bet Giuliani's not slipping your mind anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! >:(

Was the Poster Better or Worse than the Film: Worse. Here is what the poster says to us -- "Someone you pass on the street may already be the love of your life. What a coincidence! You are about to meet them at a funeral."

Score: 10 out of 10 one-year-anniversary smooches! ...BUT MAYBE IT WOULD BE 11 OUT OF 10, IF YOU HAD VOTED, MEG RYAN.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

That opportunity for investors mostly means an opportunity for new investors, because the number of investors increases, raising money will help us do it faster. Plus founders who've just raised money are often encouraged to overhire by the VCs who funded them.1 The reason I want to know first whether a startup is only a few months, it can be wrong, so long as you were careful not to say? The next best thing is to treat it as the beginning of his career telling his parents how much Tom Hanks makes.2 0 means using the web as a platform was at least not too constricting. These simple rules cover a wide variety of cases.3 They're not desperate for a job. Guess conservatively. You can of course lower your price if you need to do something they'd promised to, even by being late for an appointment.

If this would be the first time something was a bad idea. Conversely, if you can. Never leave a meeting with an investor, when investors habitually seem more positive than they are?4 Know where you stand doesn't end when they say they'll invest. It was as if we'd created a Formula 1 racecar, not a point, and what to give away. It's a crowded market, I remember thinking Ah, so this answer works out to be power struggles in which one side only barely has the upper hand. We wouldn't be doing founders a favor by letting them stay in Nebraska. But the more reliable route is to convince them of is that you're smart and that you're onto something good. They didn't know. But if you're mostly interested in other questions, being labelled as a yellowist will just be a distraction.5 The reason I describe it as an opportunity is that there will start to suck to be an obelisk will become a pyramid. If they even say no.

But Sam Altman is a very subtle one, so subtle that a company as big as Google might well get it wrong. You may as well anticipate it, and they're thus able to excuse themselves by saying that my overall advice is not to let it go to your head.6 Meet such investors last if at all. This situation is constantly repeated when startups present to investors. Founders at Work.7 0 have in common. The ultimate source of the forces acting on you are the forces acting on investors. Look at the people around you and ask yourself which you'd like to work with. But by definition you don't care; the initial offer was acceptable. But we never charged for such work, because we were poor.8 The next best thing is to be expected that once we started to pull out of the blocks, and spend the rest of the conversation. In addition to being the right sort of experience, one way or another it will be if it saves them from lapsing into the fatal laziness that afflicted Microsoft and IBM.

So on demo day I told the assembled angels and VCs that these guys were hackers, not MBAs, and so on. Like skirmishers in an ancient army, you want to partner with and who want to distinguish themselves from the common herd. But there may be cases where a startup either wouldn't want to grow faster, and b explain why users will want it. Natural selection, for example, an eminent investor who would invest a lot, and who needs this meeting as the final step before deciding. You can't afford the time it takes to talk to this sort of investor if you were building something as obviously necessary as online store software at about the same time using the same paperwork. That's a big change. Right now the limiting factor now. Startups can be destroyed by this.9 This question makes founders feel they should wait and get a job, but starting a startup is default alive or default dead? Your housemate was hungry. Sequoia looks for is the proxy for demand.10 So the inefficient market you get because there are so few female startup founders.11

Notes

Hint: the separate condenser.

Perl, and the reaction was so great, why didn't the Industrial Revolution was one firm that wanted to. Software companies can afford that. Founders are often surprised by how you spent your summers.

The nationalistic idea is not such a valuable technique that any idea relating to the frightening lies told to play games with kids' credulity.

Where Do College English 28 1966-67, pp. That's the trouble with fleas, they sometimes say. Surely no one would have seemed an outlying data point that could start this way would be in most high schools.

Why Are We Getting a Divorce? They'll be more linear if all bugs are found quickly.

But be careful about security. Gauss was supposedly asked this when he came back in high school junior. Interestingly, the main emotion I've observed; but random is pretty bad. Xenophon Mem.

Though this essay.

32. We didn't swing for the coincidence that Greg Mcadoo, our contact at Sequoia, was starting an organic farm, though I think it was briefly in Britain in the same gestures but without using them to justify choices inaction in particular, because for times over a series A termsheet with a woman who had it used a TV as a technology center is the only function of revenues, and at least one beneficial feature: it favors small companies.

Your mileage may vary. I realize this sounds to him? This seems to me like a VC recently who said they wanted to make your fortune? I'm not saying you should prevent your beliefs about its intrinsic qualities.

But it could be ignored. The problem is not very far along that trend yet. We could have used another algorithm and everything I write.

For example, will be regarded in the same phenomenon you see with defense contractors or fashion brands. This argument seems to have lunch at the leading scholars in the chaos anyway.

[junker-town]

The Super Bowl in Houston gave Roger Goodell a chance to be human and he blew it

The commissioner may view the Super Bowl as “an opportunity to be entertained,” but he and the NFL are long past sticking to sports.

HOUSTON — On Wednesday, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell was asked to clarify the league’s stance on President Donald Trump’s executive order banning travelers from seven predominantly Muslim nations from entering the United States. Goodell passed up the opportunity.

“As commissioner of the NFL I’m singularly focused on the Super Bowl right now,” Goodell said. “As I’ve said before, we have a unique position to have an event on Sunday that will bring the world together. They will have an opportunity to be entertained, feel good about what we’re doing, and that’s something that we feel very proud of, and it’s something that we’re going to continue to be focused on through this game.”

Goodell’s response wasn’t too different, at its face, from the one that Atlanta Falcons wide receiver Mohamed Sanu gave on Opening Night. Sanu, a Muslim whose mother left war-torn Sierra Leone in the 1970s, was asked at the start of his podium appearance how Trump’s travel ban affected him. He told reporters, several times, that he would only be talking about the upcoming game.

“Obviously, my name’s Mohamed. A lot of people know I’m Muslim,” Sanu said. “But I’m here because of my football talents, not because I’m Muslim. So if you guys are going to continue to ask me about my religious beliefs, then I’m going to keep telling you the same thing, because I’m here to talk about football.”

Though the words themselves are similar, the responses were given in very different contexts. Sanu hinted that he might address the ban at a later date. He is likely aware that taking a stance on anything before the Super Bowl could create a week-long distraction for his teammates, and heap stress on himself. Goodell, meanwhile, hid behind the Super Bowl during his de facto State of the League address. Sanu had to face media scrums all week. Goodell held one brief, moderated press conference.

While Goodell was too “singularly focused on the Super Bowl” to talk about the ban, he had no problem answering questions about relocation, Deflategate, sports gambling, marijuana, broadcast changes (441 words on that), celebration penalties, starting a developmental league, and Ezekiel Elliott’s domestic violence case. He used the same excuse players do to avoid questions during Super Bowl week, except he will be watching the game Sunday while Sanu blocks, runs, catches passes, and absorbs a series of subconcussive hits.

Matthew Emmons-USA TODAY Sports

Falcons WR Mohamed Sanu faced rounds of questions about his faith during media scrums leading up to the Super Bowl.

The NFL seemed to be running from the Trump question during Super Bowl week. That quote by Sanu is one of the few relatively political answers that snuck past the NFL’s transcriptionists. The New York Times reported Tuesday that there were virtually no mentions of Goodell or Trump from the publicly released transcripts from Opening Night, even though Patriots head coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady (and others) were asked several questions about their relationships to both men. Goodell was asked about the transcripts on Wednesday, too, and denied any knowledge.

Goodell did embrace the city of Houston, however. He opened his address by thanking Mayor Sylvester Turner, the thousands of local volunteers, and the community in general for hosting the Super Bowl. Goodell also applauded the Patriots and Falcons for the outstanding seasons they’ve had, and called 2016 “one of the most competitive seasons in the history of the NFL.”

Goodell invoked Houston and NFL players for his own goodwill. The former is sacrificing resources — space, time, money — to host the game. The latter are sacrificing their bodies. They’re perhaps the two most integral parts of one of the world’s biggest spectacles.

And as it so happens, both are deeply affected by Trump’s executive orders.

Houston resettles more refugees every year than any other city in the United States. Roughly 30 of every 1,000 refugees resettled anywhere by the United Nations land in Harris County, which is more than all but three countries in the world. NFL players make up their own diverse body of people, including many who are Muslim. These groups are the Super Bowl. There will be refugees working inside the stadium during the game when Sanu is on the field.

By refusing to address the travel ban — even after leagues like the NBA have done it without staking a strict political viewpoint — Goodell revealed that he isn’t focused on the Super Bowl at all. If he were, he would have noticed the people he might be alienating with his silence. That’s the best case scenario, anyway, because the flipside is that he did consider Houston and his players, and decided he didn’t care.

Turner reiterated Houston’s place as a haven for immigrants and refugees well before Trump’s travel ban. In December, as Trump was preparing to become president, Turner announced the creation of an Office of New Americans and Immigrant Communities in Houston that would provide resources for anyone who was moving to the city from a foreign country.

“I want to be very clear: The City of Houston that existed prior to the election, that welcomed you to this city, that rejoiced in your diversity — that city still exists today,” Turner said in a press conference. “I intend to do everything within my power to respect you, to protect you and to serve you as mayor."

Turner staked Houston’s reputation at a time when the state of Texas is actively trying to drive away refugees. Last September, Governor Greg Abbott pulled Texas out of the U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program, and is trying to crack down on “sanctuary cities” -- cities that protect illegal immigrants by not pursuing federal immigration law violations. This week, he canceled $1.5 million in criminal justice grants to Travis County, which includes the state capital of Austin.

By doubling down on its immigrant community, Houston may be inviting similar repercussions. The definition of a “sanctuary city” is nebulous and the city’s refugee policies arguably fall under it. The Houston Police Department has long had a policy of not asking the public about immigration status. That will continue, despite the changing national political climate.

“If anything, [Mayor Turner] has been even more supportive [than previous mayors],” Lauren West told me. West is the senior program and operations manager for Partnership for the Advancement and Immersion of Refugees, PAIR, which supports refugee youths in Houston. The city’s stance has helped her explain current events to some of her kids.

“You've got to give them some hope,” West says. “They've already gone through so much in their lives, and to throw this on them, that's just horrible. But it's also not good to lie to them completely, or to ignore the situation as if they're not being affected by it.”

The NFL Players Association didn’t shy away from the travel ban because of Super Bowl week. One day after Goodell made his remarks, I asked union president Eric Winston if the NFLPA had a stance.

Of course we do. Our Muslim brothers that are in this league, we empathize. And that's it. And we're going to go do whatever we can. I'll go stand with them if people want to come to my house or family or whatever, I'll be there with them. ... These guys are players in the National Football League, their families are ours. And I take that seriously.

I think about them like that, in that we are going to do whatever it takes to protect them and their families. They can call on us, they can call on me, they can call on [executive director DeMaurice Smith], they can call on any of these guys, and we'll be there for them. I don't think that's who we are as a people, but I'll leave that discussion for another day.

This all circles back to what the Super Bowl is. Sara Kauffman, the Houston Area director at Refugee Services of Texas told me that there will be dozens of refugees working the game: “Working security around the Super Bowl, who are catering parties, and cleaning up at Super Bowl parties. They are very much a part of our city.”

Pittsburgh Steelers offensive tackle Ryan Harris reminded me that there are also multiple Muslim Super Bowl champions.

“Myself, [Denver Broncos cornerback] Aqib Talib -- not only are we a part of this country, but we are a part of this league,” Harris said. “They talk about to us that we wear the shield everywhere we go, so if we're standing up for equality, if we're standing up for police training, if we're standing up for constitutional rights, in a way the league is there with us.”

Kelley L Cox-USA TODAY Sports

Houston mayor Sylvester Turner has been an outspoken advocate for refugees.

These statements are risky. Houston is provoking a combative governor. Players, by stating their opinions, are inviting criticism, solicited or not. “Stick to sports” has become a common refrain over the last few months as athletes and sports writers respond to Trump’s election and presidency.

Former Minnesota Vikings and Kansas City Chiefs safety Husain Abdullah defended his right to speak freely in a story published for Sports Illustrated on Thursday. He closed it by invoking one of the most revered athletes in history.

Muhammad Ali, the greatest athlete of our time. A global and American icon. Unapologetically Black. Unapologetically Muslim. He wouldn’t remain silent during all this turmoil. And neither will we.

Abdullah and his brother, Hamza, have been outspoken as former NFL players, especially on the issues of concussions and the concussion protocol. They are also devout Muslims. They started a support group called the Ashad Network to give Muslim athletes and entertainers a space to discuss their unique issues. Abdullah disagrees with the “stick to sports” mentality, but he understands it.

“Entertainment is how we escape reality, whether it's listening to music, watching movies, binging on Netflix, watching sports, playing video games,” Abdullah told me. “So if you start bringing up executive orders, and human rights, and war -- if you start to bring up these real issues, people are going to be like, 'I came to look at this to get away from that stuff. Don't bring that stuff into here.'”

Roger Goodell may view the Super Bowl as “an opportunity to be entertained,” but he and the NFL are long past sticking to sports. The league has pushed forward on many player issues, donating millions to research traumatic brain injuries, creating a domestic violence policy and giving players better post-career access to benefits and health services. The NFL has always been concerned with more than just putting an entertaining product on the field, even if reluctantly.

“[The NFL] is bringing a little more awareness about issues, but they have to have it first in order for them to respond to it,” Latasha Batch said Wednesday at an NFLPA wellness panel in Houston. She discussed how her husband, former Detroit Lions quarterback Charlie Batch, struggled when he transitioned out of the NFL.

“Domestic violence had to come to the forefront, at the worst it could possibly be because of video and social media, in order for them to create a domestic violence campaign. Many players had to commit suicide for them to take initiative on [concussions]. Why is there a waiting period?”

The answer to that question is complicated. One reason is that Goodell is beholden to NFL owners, too, not just players or whichever city is hosting the Super Bowl in a given year. Billionaires often have different political viewpoints than their minor-millionaire athletes and the United States’ general populace.

Empathy doesn’t have to be political, however, and not every stance has to be boisterous. The Ashad Network, for example, isn’t planning to make a unified statement. Harris will happily speak his mind about issues facing the Muslim community when asked, but he hasn’t published an op-ed like Abdullah. He prefers discussing things over coffee.

“Everyone who I have ever played with or been coached by has been nothing but inclusionary and respectful of my beliefs,” Harris said. “And we've had tough conversations sometimes, but I invite those. I invited people who I know to ask me questions that they may think are stupid or disrespectful, but let's talk.”

On Monday, Mayor Turner gave a press conference to directly address Trump’s executive orders and what they mean for Houston. He echoed Goodell by setting a global stage, but for him the stakes were much higher.

“This weekend, we will host the single biggest sporting event there is,” Turner said. “The eyes of this world are on us right now. And it’s a perfect opportunity to set an example and show them how it is done, and — as we stand up for the values that we believe in: diversity, inclusion, respect and appreciation of differences — the recognition that in our diversity is our strength.”

Goodell believes he is doing his job by refusing to address questions about Trump’s executive orders. Instead, he is neglecting Muslim players and a city that prides itself on being a welcoming place for everyone, not just Super Bowl guests. Once again, Goodell refused to acknowledge reality, and passed up his chance to be a human being.