#god i wish i had this much luca merch!!!!

[thatxvguy]

KNOCK KNOCK, LET THE DEVIL IN.

Nah man like seriously what the actual fuck.

It was Friday, August 31st. A nice day to start Anime Festival Asia in Indonesia, I was already happy thinking what to buy to make myself broke at the convention, then aS SOON AS I FUCKING ARRIVED AT THE CONVENTION, SHIT BROKE IG AND TWITTER: EMINEM NEW ALBUM “KAMIKAZE”.

At first I shrugged and laughed thinking it was a troll/just an album announcement bUT AY TURNS OUT THAT SHIT LITERALLY DROPPED JUST WHEN I GOT MY MONEY FOR AFA & NOW BY THE TIME OF THIS WRITING I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW TO SAVE UP MONEY TO BUY KAMIKAZE MERCH, LIKE I SWEAR FUCK THIS SHIT SLIM, I FUCKING HATE YOU SMH.

Tbh I don’t expect much when I saw the Venom teaser for the movie, I thought he was just going to have a song for the movie soundtrack/at best, a soundtrack album by him just like how Kendrick did with Black Panther, but ay this looks promising.

Aside of me being salty, this album’s apparently executive produced by Dr. Dre and “Slim Shady”, like literally Marshall is fucking credited as Slim Shady, this shit sounds like a classic already- HE EVEN PUT BACK THE PAUL SKITS AGAIN YO DAMN.

Features are actually fresh as fuck tho, like Joyner Lucas? Nickle Nine? Goddamn man. First look at the tracklists & I can feel the fire already.

Aight then with that all being said, new EM album, Kamikaze, let’s go (I’m still salty to not have money to buy the merch).

01. The Ringer - SHIT BRO I CANNOT. WAIT A MINUTE *takes a fucking hour to get ready*

Okay so uh, wow. Illadaproducer. You fire bro. AND RONNY J? OMYGOD MAN.

First song and he’s shNAPPING ALREADY LIKE DAMN BRO. Okayokayokay let me slow myself here. Because he literally snapped on everybody who criticized him on The Storm freestyle & Revival, should I like write of a list of it?

>Vince Staples >Joe Budden >Lil Yachty (It’s not a diss tho, he just called him out) >Lil Pump >Lil Xan >Iggy Azalea >MGK >NF >Journalists >Donald Trump >Charmalagne tha God >Pretty much the whole current state of Hip-Hop

One song going and it’s fire already, why the fuck should we hit Em’s nerve for him to make a fire album like this though? That’s a big problem.

I like how he interpolates Young M.A. here, matter of fact everything he interpolates sounds better than the original lol excuse me for being biased smh. AND THAT EVIL SPELL LINE, GOT ME SO GOOD.

Overall a fire intro. Personal favorite already. I felt perfect when Em shouted out his favorite new-wave rappers, makes me feel like I listen to the right side of Hip-Hop lol.

02. Greatest - REVIVAL DIDN’T GO VIRAL

As much as I like some aspects of Revival, it’s still an ass album overall, so sorry I gotta say that man but that’s like, Jesus man it’s the fucking lowest.

AY MIKE WILL WASSUP BRO THIS SHIT BUMPS BROOO, better than the whole SR3MM album tbh smh. And the hook yooo, I really wokeuplikethis when I heard the fucking hook. Definitely one of the best hooks of 2018 lmao don’t @ me.

He still continues the theme of clapping back at people who clapped back at him & he’s not being boring on it which is very unusual, because y'know how it feels like when people wrote the same shit on different songs right? That shit gets repetitive & boring, but not this one.

And again, his interpolations are fucking top notch man, I can’t praise it enough for being too fucking great.

And that 2nd verse? God. Another personal favorite.

03. Lucky You (feat. Joyner Lucas) - I’m lucky to be alive after listening to these 3 fire straight.

Dude.

Whatthefuck.

This is godly bro.

Joyner came in with that fire verse, then Em ended the song with next level heat. That’s the whole gist of it tbh.

BOI-1DA CAME WITH THE HEAT. SHIT’S AMAZING BRO, I CAN STILL HEAR THAT NC-17 HERE, ILLA YOU FIRE TOO MAN WTFFF.

I like how they started their parts with different perspective of their respective careers, with Joyner not having the accolades he was supposed to get and Em with the awards that he ironically don’t need.

Joyner man, he came in with rapid fire yo & he fucking interpolates Denzel’s SUMO | ZUMO amazingly & fittingly. And Em back again snapping on the current state of Hip-Hop FOR THE 3RD TIME IN THE ALBUM & HE’S YET TO BORE ME WITH THE SAME TOPIC. And that “Record Breaker/Broken Record” line is slick as hell yo, plus how he interpolates (again) DNA. here is just amazing but somehow expected. Plus that ghostwriter line probably struck a nerve somewhere in the 6ix lol.

3 tracks in with pretty much the same topics, yet I didn’t get bored of it yet. The first 3 tracks & and those hits the personal favorites list already. This is probably a classic already.

04. Paul (Skit) - The very core question of Eminem’s career by this point tbh. Is he going just to put out shit albums and snap back the next year with a fire album? Is he going to repeat the same shit all over? So far the first 3 tracks don’t bore me but I feel like he’s trying a lil too hard on it? At least he didn’t sound bitter on this album so far.

05. Normal - It’s not an Eminem album if there’s no at least one misogynystic song isn’t it.

At first I wasn’t feeling it until the beat switches I was like, “Damn bro, Em can actually sound melodic like the mumble rappers too, damn.”

But I got the message of the song tho, it’s surprising that Em is still wishing for a normal relationship with women (Maybe he could had one if he didn’t went full misogynystic but eh).

Milo verse is funny tho, not anything special but it’s just funny. Not hilarious either but it’s just… Funny.

06. Em Calls Paul (Skit) - Basically a response about Em saying that he’s not trying to make an album just to clap back at people who criticized the album badly, thank goodness because I hope that shit doesn’t happen to him (I still don’t like the timing of this surprise album tho, still salty over the fact I can’t buy the merch yet).

Rumors believe that he was referring to Shawn Cee on the skit, but I don’t think it’s about him tho because Em said he read about some Yahoo-motherfucker who wrote about Revival and criticized about how bad Em did the album (Which I think to be true).

Now, Shawn Cee is a YouTuber famous for his Hip-Hop reaction/review videos. Eminem clearly said that he read about someone writing about Revival, not watched about someone reviewing Revival. So I guess Shawn Cee is in a safe position in his career lol. RIP to that Yahoo-motherfucker tho.

07. Stepping Stone - THIS HERE, THIS ACTUALLY BROKE MY HEART

It’s sad to hear that D12 is officially dead & to hear it from the group most popular member makes it even worse.

I like how to hook goes in & the bridge is just amazing to hear. I’m happy that he decides to break the silence about D12, it’s a plus point too for this album because I don’t want him to always talk about how bad Revival is tbh lol.

A great song to refresh yourself from this album’s main topic.

08. Not Alike (feat. Royce da 5'9") - THAT LOOK ALIVE SAMPLE THOOO. TAY KEITH FUCK THESE DUDES UP.

I don’t know why but I enjoy Eminem doing the Migos flow, it just makes him sounds funnier to me, the hook says all: Em is nothing alike to these mumble rappers, just like how what he says have nothing in common.

Royce went great here, but I feel like before his verse ends he sounds a lil rushed, or is it just me? Great feature nevertheless.

THEN EMINEM BACK AGAIN WITH THE MGK DISS & WHEN THAT BEAT SWITCHED TO THAT RONNY J FIRE? GODFUCKINGDAMN BRO.

Did Em just started his verse with the Ay flow? Because it feels refreshing when Em doesn’t go too fast on his raps & being more laid-back with it.

The flow showdown here man, it’s just unlikely people will hate on this one, I mean hey, GOAT with Tay Keith & Ronny J who doesn’t want that?

Definitely another personal favorite.

09. Kamikaze - Title song of the album, I gotta stop listening when I heard the word “Fack” said here lmao, the whole first part of the song is hilarious too, I mean that beat whatthefuck man, corny as shit lmao.

But hey as hilarious as it gets it’s still worth noting that this song sums up the whole point of the album, it’s basically him snapping back to haters & mumble rap by dropping a surprise album just for the fuck of it (Fuck it tho I’m still salty off the merch)

When the beat switched tho, that shit went sinister like straight up, WHY CAN’T HE JUST DO THE WHOLE SONG WITH THAT BEAT? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST EM SMH.

And that outro bro, was that a diss at Drake? Those ghostwriters line still got me great man.

10. Fall - Featuring uncredited vocals by Justin Vernon for the hook, here Em talks about… WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT MAN THE ALBUMS BASICALLY A BUNCH OF DISS TRACKS FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T HAD ENOUGH OF HIM SMH, Mike WiLL fucking made a banger tho.

I felt bad for Tyler after hearing him got dissed badly with the other F-word, RIP Tyler & Earl too.

Budden, DJ Akademiks, Charmalagne & Lord Jamar got fucked up pretty badly here too, I mean I think this is the first time Em proved his point right & stayed relevant to the era he’s in. I mean he’s doing it in Trap beats so that explains a thing. (Listen to Lucky You for reference)

Verse 3 > Legacy in MMLP2.

11. Nice Guy (feat. Jessie Reyez) - NOW THIS, THIS IS PROBABLY THE FIRST EMINEM SONG FOR THEM CONCERT MOSHPITS.

THAT DROP IS JUST SO FIRE, & JESSIE, GODDAMN BRO.

I like the fact that the songs is less than 3 minutes just like how songs are nowadays. The bars are nothing serious tbh bUT THAT ENERGY BRO, IF THIS SHIT EVER GETS PERFORMED ON AN EMINEM CONCERT, I’LL DEFINITELY JOIN THE MOSHPIT.

Another personal favorite. And yea it’s a favorite personal because even tho the bars aren’t really nothing, I can still relate on how dudes just wanted to be nice for their woman out there.

Hook-post hook = definite anthem.

12. Good Guy (feat. Jessie Reyez) - BRO EMINEM ON A KINGDOM HEARTS SAMPLE BRO THANK YOU ILLA YOU DA GOAT.

I feel like this song & the song before is like a mini sequel to the long-ass Bad Guy song back in MMLP2, this song especially is just a continuation of Nice Guy, so nothing special tbh, lacks the same energy from Nice Guy tho.

The Kingdom Hearts sample fucking saved the song.

13. Venom (Music from the Motion Picture) - Now this shit, was the shit that made me believe that Em is actually going to produce the whole Venom soundtrack. This shit went off great, KNOCK KNOCK, LET THE DEVIL IN.

I LOVE HOW HE STARTED EVERY VERSE WITH THAT SENTENCE, REAL SLIM SHADY VIBES IN THIS SONG. AND THAT HOOK, UGH FUCK BRO SHIT.

How Eminem stated that we the fans are Eddie Brock & him being the Venom Symbiote is just very fucking symbolic, because as bad as he gets you know that he’ll still stick to us like how Venom sticks to Eddie.

THe very perfect outro for the album, a definite personal favorite because of the “Knock knock” line & the hook.

Overall album score: 9/10

A very great album which basically consists mainly about responses to haters, but somehow ends up being a breathe of fresh air of an Eminem record for the past 8 years.

Great team of producers (Illa you da MVP bro), great features, Eminem on his prime, executive produced by Dre & Shady,the return of Paul skits, no comment needed, definitely a classic already.

The only question I have in mind is that; should it really be like this for Eminem to put out a classic album? Should a big sack of hating in mass media on a shit album he put out previously fuel the urge for him to make one of the best records of him to this date? I don’t think so.

Personal favorites: The Ringer, Greatest, Lucky You (feat. Joyner Lucas), Not Alike (feat. Royce da 5'9"), Nice Guy (feat. Jessie Reyez), Venom (Music from the Motion Picture).

I’M STILL SALTY OVER THE FACT THAT I CAN’T BUY MERCH BECAUSE OF THE UNFORTUNATE SURPRISE TIMING. FUCK YOU EM.

Kamikaze > Eminem albums from 2010-2017

He actually did a serious damage because of his Kamikaze wtf he actually didn’t flopped, great.

You should’ve seen the memes for this album bro, shit’s wild.

Again, Eminem if you’re reading this, I love you for putting such a classic album in this era, bUT FUCK YOU FOR RELEASING IT THE EXACT SAME DAY OF ME BEING BROKE. Sincerely, a Stan.

[welllpthisishappening]

Netting the Rebound

She probably should have answered her phone. 

It was...somewhere. Her pocket. It was definitely in her pocket. But Emma was annoyed and she couldn’t deal with another fan incident and she just wanted to sit in whatever vaguely uncomfortable chair in whatever section of the Garden she was in. 

So, naturally, she got interrupted – and she wasn’t exactly mad about that. 

Word Count: 4.6K AN: Hello, hi, hey there @distant-rose!!! I am not your secret anything, but you have been very busy and I am in constant awe of just how absolutely fantastic you are, so here are some words and some flirting on the ice and some making out on the ice and cute kids wearing hockey jerseys. All of your law exams should be scared (terrified) of you because you are going to wreck them. I look forward to living in a world that you’re running. 

“You are lurking.”

Emma widened her eyes, slumped in one of the chairs in section…something. She had no idea what section it was. Three seasons in and she still couldn’t name the sections of the Garden without looking at a map. She was ninety-two percent certain it was the hundreds though.

She was only a few rows away from the ice.

Killian didn’t move, leaning against the front of the bench without a helmet on and no pads and she was kind of lurking.

The game had ended more than an hour before  – an OT loss that tied up the series with a Game Seven on the road looming two days from now and maybe she wasn’t just lurking.

She might have been wallowing instead.

And she hadn’t even played. Or been on the ice when Jeff gave up the goal. An easy goal. Or an easy save. Whatever. The semantics of it weren’t important.

They lost.

“I’m not lurking,” she argued. “I’m loitering, at worst. Maybe. Depending on which definition you want to use.” “I think definitions are fairly set in stone. Isn’t that the definition of that?” “Oh my God.” He flashed her a smile, which didn’t make much sense at all because they’d lost and they shouldn’t have and everything felt kind of like the end of the world. It wasn’t, of course, but that was neither here nor there and the chair Emma had claimed as her own was incredibly uncomfortable.

She would have been disappointed if she’d paid for it.

And Killian was still smiling, far too knowing to be anything except the blatantly obvious flirting it usually was after a win. They should have won.

He was wearing skates still.

Or he’d put skates back on.

The second one made her made her breath catch a bit.

“Stop overthinking it, Swan,” Killian continued and Emma scowled, frustration morphing into something that might have been closer to charmed because she was totally overthinking it and he totally knew. 

“That’s stupid,” she said, his smile getting bigger and he hadn’t cut his hair since the playoffs started. She wished she weren’t sitting in whatever section she was sitting in so she could run her hands through it. “It’s stupid that you’re doing that.”

“Standing here?”

“Yes.”

Killian barked out a laugh, hair inching closer to his eyes when he ducked his head and that was stupid too. “Ah, I thought there’d be more bantering involved there, love. I didn’t think we’d delve right into agreements like that. Must be some kind of record.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Way too late.”

Emma huffed, but the frustration was mostly gone entirely now and she couldn’t really think when he smiled at her like that – something cliché about it being more important than the game or the score or how obviously pissed off he was when the final buzzer sounded because Jeff should have been able to make that save in his sleep.

God she hated the playoffs.

And that was a total lie.

There was, after all, that other old cliché about there’s nothing like playoff hockey and, really, there wasn’t. It was loud and chaotic and the hits hit a little bit harder, but that did something stupid to Emma’s blood pressure too because, for the first time, she twisted the ring on her left finger instead of the one around her neck and the laces around her wrist were probably surprised to not be invited to whatever metaphorical party her clearly crazy mind had come up with.

Mrs. Vankald said Mattie cried for most of overtime. Emma figured that was a sign. Or that he was six months old and probably kind of tired, but she was also kind of tired and the fans had nearly rioted when they lost.

“Overthinking it,” Killian repeated, drawing out the word until it sounded like several post-game quotes.

“Why are you being so calm about this?”

“Would you like me to be angrier about it?”

“Honestly? Yes,” Emma admitted, rolling her eyes at her own myriad of emotions and Killian’s eyebrows jumped up high enough that she could barely see them through his hair. “It’s just…” she sighed, running a hand over her face and she was exhausted. Bone-tired exhausted to her very core and then, like, something even deeper and more meaningful and playoff hockey with a six-month old was some kind of challenge she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to meet.

Killian's smile shifted – a distinctly different look than the teasing one from a few moments before and Emma felt some of the fight fall out of her. “Just because we don’t win now does not mean it’s some kind of sweeping commentary on everything else, love,” he said lightly and really the mind-reading thing was starting to get ridiculous.

“Yeah, but I’ve gotten very used to winning.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s a set-yourself-up for disappointment kind of thing.”

“Swan,” Killian muttered, swinging his legs over the boards and there was far too much glass in between them.

Emma made some kind of noise in the back of her throat – a mix between a growl and a groan and the single most exhausted sound in the history of the entire NHL and several different universes. “Also stupid,” she scowled and it was because Killian kept smiling at her and that was making it difficult to stay in the realm of wallowing. “Seriously, why aren’t you more pissed off about this? You’re…”

She waved her hands through the air, earning an arched eyebrow and an incredibly potent smirk for her troubles and she was almost ready for both of them. She sat up straight anyway, certain if her feet were touching the floor she’d be able to ground herself or something equally ridiculous and she really needed to talk to Zelena to find out if she was supposed to be planning for Game Seven in New Jersey.

Emma had been half planning for Game Seven in New Jersey since puck drop of overtime.

“You going to finish that sentence, love or what’s going on there?” Killian asked, rapping his knuckles against the glass. “I’m what, exactly?” ���You.” “Me?” “Exactly.” “None of those words make sense in that order.”

She was going to give herself a headache from rolling her eyes so often, but it was such an easy save and if Emma had to go to New Jersey then they were going to have to ask Mrs. V to watch again and--

“Swan,” Killian said again, the rap on the glass was less a knock and more a rather jarring bang. Emma glared at him. “I’m almost surprised there isn’t smoke coming out of your ears, yet.” “That’s because you’re being frustrating. You’re really not mad about the goal? I could have been on the ice and I would have saved that goal.” His eyebrows, somehow, got even higher up his forehead, the smile widening into something that was, decidedly, Emma’s and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from making some other absurd noise. “In Jeff’s defense, Sean blocked that shot in the third and couldn’t quite skate during OT,” Killian reasoned. “And he knew it was a shitty goal. Did you not see him snap his stick?” “Of course I did. I watched the game.” “I’m not suggesting otherwise.” “You think he’s going to get some kind of awful headline on the The Post backpage tomorrow?”

“Unquestionably. I think Lucas was shouting at several different people and threatening several different credentials in an attempt to stop that from happening.” “Did it work?” Emma asked, smiling in spite of herself and they needed to get out of that arena. They needed to find their kid. She really wanted to see their kid.

“Absolutely not,” Killian laughed. “I think there were several heated exchanges, a few mentions of coverage, like Lucas cares or worries about that, and then she might have stomped her feet a few times while Scarlet tried to get pictures of it for his thriving social media empire.” Emma’s smile felt like it was going to split her face – which, honestly, was a slightly disgusting thought, but she was fairly certain she’d felt several dozen human emotions in the last ten minutes and Killian had found her sitting in an empty section of Madison Square Garden.

“How’d you know I was here?” Emma asked. “Also you’re still not answering my questions.” “There have been so many of them. I thought I already did post.” She deflated slightly, shoulders sagging and hair falling in her face and maybe if the season ended earlier than expected they could both get a haircut. “C’mon. That’s--” “--Stupid?” “Yeah and kind of charming which is also kind of stupid.” “I’m on a roll,” Killian grinned and Kristoff must have been wallowing the unexpected loss too because there were still a few sticks and three right-handed gloves sitting in the corner of the bench. “And of course I’m pissed, Swan. We should have clinched tonight and then you wouldn’t have to worry about the riot I’m sure happened in Chase Square or how much you feel like you’ll have to offer Mr. and Mrs. V to watch Mattie in two days and Kristoff wouldn’t still be yelling at Jeff about destroying equipment.” “Kristoff yelled at Jeff about destroying equipment?” Killian nodded seriously – or as seriously as he could in head-to-toe merch with still-damp hair and a smirk that would probably continue to affect Emma’s pulse for the rest of her life. “Scarlet recorded that and sent it to Banana too.” “Busy post-game for Scarlet.”

“You too I’d imagine since you weren’t there.” “Riot was a pretty good word for it,” Emma muttered. “And all of your reasons were about me.” Killian hummed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world and it kind of was because they were a team, in some kind of metaphorical sense, and he knew that she’d be lurking and stewing and wallowing in the seats.

“I wanted to win too, Swan,” he said, a flash of something in his gaze and Emma’s fingers brushed over her ring before she considered exactly what she was doing. “Super competitive weirdo that I am.” “That’s totally what I was talking about before.” “Yeah, I kind of imagined that too.” “Maybe we can get Mr. and Mrs. V some sort of edible arrangement or something,” Emma suggested. “I had to leave the suite early to deal with that stuff outside and Mer was freaking out and it was a whole thing.” “You really don’t have to buy them pre-packaged fruit, Swan.” “Yeah, but--” “There’s no buts, love,” Killian interrupted and she’d never hated a pane of glass or plastic or whatever it was more in her entire life. “Super grandparents to the rescue every single time. Banana told Scarlet Mrs. V had run out of storage on her phone because she was taking so many pictures of Mattie.”

Emma’s stomach swooped and jumped and twisted into several different naval-grade notes and the arena hadn’t really been warm – it was covered in ice, after all – but she felt warmer and more content than she had since the start of regulation.

It was still a shitty goal to give up though.

“Maybe we should just get her a different phone then,” Emma said. “What kind of phone does she have that’s running out of storage? That can’t be right. God, I bet Anna was scandalized.”

“There were a lot of capital letters and exclamation points in the several consecutive texts she sent to Scarlet. And Locksley.” “And Locksley?” “Scarlet was taking too long to respond.” “Ah, of course.”

“Covering all her bases,” Killian said. “And I have no idea what kind of phone Mrs. V has, but it’s ridiculously nice that you even considered it. Also, come down here.” Emma was halfway through her shrug, ready to brush off the compliment, but the words seemed to slam into the back of her brain and she was going to shave Killian’s eyebrows off in the middle of the night if only so he couldn’t do that thing again.

“What?” “Come down here,” he repeated, pausing between every word. “Look at all this open ice.” “What?” Killian threw his head back when he laughed, nearly losing his balance and Emma mumbled something that might have been better coordinated on the ice under her breath. That just got him to laugh louder.

“I’ve never argued that fact, Swan,” he said. “I’m serious though. We’re still within reasonable post-game. Come down here. We’ll take shots.” “If I say what again are you going to laugh louder?” “Yes.” “Oh, I thought there’d be more banter,” Emma muttered, throwing his own joke back at him and it just ended with more laughter and more smiles and another eyebrow twitch that probably should have been studied at some point.

It defied several laws of gravity – Emma was sure.

“We can banter while we shoot,” Killian reasoned. “Kristoff’s still yelling at Jeff and we probably won’t get run over by the zamboni.” “Probably is concerning.” “Are you telling me you don’t want to try and go five-hole on me right now?” “Do you think I’m just wandering around in constant state of wanting to shoot pucks at you?” Emma asked, but she was already standing up and trying to figure out how to get on the ice and they were exceptionally good at flirting. “That’s weird, right?”

“I hope not, no, but you’re also a super competitive weirdo, love.” “Rude.” “Obvious,” Killian corrected. “And there was a reason you were loitering or lurking and why I knew that you hadn’t left the arena because of both those things. So, c’mon, let’s live on the edge a little bit before my legs actually give out from exhaustion.”

It took a few minutes to get to the ice, weaving her way through reporters and slightly flustered team officials and one vaguely jarring moment when Emma nearly ran straight into Ariel, but she made it to the tunnel and jogged the final few feet, finding a still-smiling Killian standing on the ice again.

“I’m not wearing any skates,” Emma pointed out. “If I fall and concuss myself I’m going to be really mad at you.”

“Swan, it wounds me that you think I would let you fall or concuss yourself. And I don’t need Lucas or Mary Margaret to yell at me when I’m sleep deprived.” “Maybe that’s the plus of a Game Seven.” Killian hummed in confusion, holding a hand out and Emma’s feet skid across the top of the un-zamobni’ed ice. “The potential anger of both of Lucas and Mary Margaret?”

“Nah, nah, if I get to go to Jersey in two days then we could kick Locksley out of the room. Make him share with Ruby or something.” He didn’t understand immediately, eyes narrowed and a pinch in between his eyebrows that might have been the single most endearing thing Emma had see since Mattie noticed it was his dad standing at the blue line, but she could almost see the understanding wash across Killian’s face and she yelped when he wrapped an arm around her.

And then he kissed her – soundly and hard and several other words that, in any other circumstance, would be absolutely awful.

Emma wobbled a bit, gripping the front of his t-shirt to steady herself, but that was kind of pointless because he absolutely was not going to let her fall or get concussed and she really wanted to focus most of her energy on kissing Killian back.

One of them made some kind of sound, a groan or a sigh or something else decidedly romantic and Emma had to twist to get her arm up, carding her fingers through his hair until he was absolutely the one groaning.

She smiled against his mouth.

“That would be scandalous, Swan,” Killian mumbled, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

“Was that a no?” “An enthusiastic yes. Should we keep making out on the ice to prove it?” “I think that’s kind of pushing our luck,” she said and it was good that he’d changed out of his uniform before this whole thing because Emma wasn’t sure she could handle that. “I was after all promised some kind of shooting lesson.”

“You make it sound like this a ploy to get you to make out with me on the ice.”

“I’m going to be honest and say it would be disappointing if it weren’t.”

Killian grinned, catching her lips again and it was quick and heady and Emma was on an descriptive roll. He brought her with them when he skated back towards the bench, sneakers sliding and laughter echoing off the empty seats and the scoreboard hanging above their head.

“Are there even pucks down here?” Emma asked, but the words shook a bit when he nipped just behind her ear. “We’re going to get fined for this. Bump Jeff off the backpage for loitering.” “This is romantic, Swan. You’re ruining the mood.” “The only reason we are here is because we lost.” He nodded, cheek brushing against the top of her head and he had to let go of her to get a puck on his stick. “Romantic,” Killian repeated, flipping the puck up and catching it on the blade.

And, really, it wasn’t all that impressive.

It was normal and run-of-the-mill and all those descriptors Emma had been able to think about before when she wasn’t thinking about how goddamn attractive it was that her husband was exceptionally good at playing hockey.

As it was, she was far too focused on how goddamn attractive her husband was and he kept smirking at her because he totally knew it, bouncing the puck in the air while he waited for her return volley of expected banter.

“Alright there, Swan?” Killian asked and his smile was absurd when she actually groaned in response.

They had a kid.

They were married.

Tapping the puck on his stick blade – a stick that wasn’t even his – was not supposed to be that attractive.

“How do you do that?” she countered, the question falling out of her without her permission. Killian blinked. “The stick thing, I mean. Is that like some kind of right of passage for youth players or something?” “I have no idea what you’re asking me.”

He was still doing it – bouncing the stupid puck until that seemed to be echoing off the walls too, a metronome that matched up well with Emma’s heartbeat.

“That,” Emma said, waving her hand and he had to stop to catch her around the waist. His eyes got bluer, she was certain. “The bouncing thing. When did you learn how to do the bouncing thing? And why don’t you do more skills competitions?”

“I’ve been kind of busy with some other stuff, Swan. And I don’t think bouncing thing is the technical term, actually.” “You’re being difficult on purpose now.” “No, no, no, I’m flirting, Swan. There’s a difference.”

Emma shook her head, but she was charmed and Killian knew it. Every single person in that entire goddamn building knew it – even when he wasn’t showing off and doing that bouncing thing. “Fine,” she mumbled. “So forget shooting, then, show me the trick.”

He couldn’t do it again.

He kept trying, twisting his wrists and getting his stick under the puck, but every single time he tried to bounce it, the stupid thing crashed onto the ice and Killian cursed under his breath and Emma had been absolutely wrong before – this was the single most endearing thing she’d ever seen in her entire life.

“I think you’re cracking under the pressure, Cap,” Emma muttered, leaning back against the boards and she couldn’t really maintain casual when she was trying to stay upright, but at least she wasn’t cursing a forgotten hockey puck to several different hells. “How many underworlds are you even aware of? You’re making some of those up.” Killian didn’t look up, far too focused on catching the puck out of the air. “Greek, basic Christian, Aztec, Ancient China, Roman and Norse.” “Norse?” “It’s Mr. V’s favorite. That’s how you knew you were in trouble.”

Emma’s laugh seemed to bubble out of her, overtime losses and fan riots forgotten because she was so goddamn in love with her husband and this family that was hers and theirs and several other prepositions.

She was going to demand to go to New Jersey.

“Naturally,” she said. “And you’re definitely thinking about it too much. Am I making you nervous? Is that what it is?” “Not nervous,” Killian amended, glancing up at her and the puck landed flat on his stick blade. Emma might have gasped. Or cheered. “Determined.”

She was only fairly positive she was blushing, but she knew she was smiling and swooning, at least a little, tugging her lips back behind her teeth to make sure she didn’t do something stupid like actually start to giggle at the blue line.

“It’s all in the wrists,” Killian said. He moved both his hands, flicking them up and narrowing his eyes and it worked that time, puck landing flat and stick staying straight and Emma did her best to document every single shift in his body.

For posterity.

Or something.

And so she could do it better than Killian.

Because she was a super competitive weirdo.

He let the puck fall back onto the ice, offering the stick in unspoken challenge. “How long do I have to do the thing?” Emma asked. “Because you weren’t great at the start.” “You’re going to harp on that forever.” “That wasn’t a question.” “Neither was that.” Emma made a face – half a second away from sticking her tongue out – but they were going to get caught sooner rather than later and it was some kind of slightly romantic miracle that the lights hadn’t gone off on them yet. “Ok, so I’ve got to, like, get in under it, right?” she asked, groaning when Killian’s stupid eyebrow did something else decidedly stupid.

She’d clearly run out of descriptors.

“Fine, fine, stupid question,” Emma grumbled. She twisted her wrists, reasoning there was something about one fluid motion that, probably, made sense and, suddenly, the puck was in the air and it worked. But then Emma’s reactions took over and she wasn’t on skates and ice was, well, ice and she was having a difficult time keeping her balance and catching the puck and bouncing the puck and Killian’s arm was back around her waist.

They nearly fell over – a mess of limbs and grunts and groans and the goddamn hockey puck somehow managed to hit both of them in the leg – Killian’s jaw slamming into Emma’s shoulder as they stumbled back into the bench.

And she wasn’t really expecting the laughter.

From someone who wasn’t them.

Several someones.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Ruby shouted, mumbling an apology Roland and Henry’s direction and she couldn't move her hands the way she obviously wanted to. There was a baby in a Jones jersey in her arms. “Is this where you guys have been all of post?” “I went to post, Lucas,” Killian said. He still had his arm around Emma’s waist, tugging her flush against him and she couldn’t quite keep her laughter in, body shaking and feet sliding on ice and there was a whole platoon of them standing at the end of the tunnel.

Will had his phone out.

“That is true, Lucas,” he reasoned. “He glared at that one reporter from NJ.com, remember?” “You glared at a reporter from NJ.com?” Emma asked, appreciating whatever look landed on Killian’s face when she twisted to look at him. “I knew you were mad!” “We did lose, love.” “Jeff’s still apologizing to Kristoff for breaking very expensive equipment,” Robin said. “We thought you guys disappeared. Have you really been on the ice the whole time?” Killian shrugged, a dismissive move that was probably supposed to end the conversation, but they were a team made up of overly interfering and super competitive weirdos and Roland was already trying to get onto the ice.

“Hook, Hook, Hook,” he shouted, running past the outstretched arms of Robin and Will. He landed on his back almost immediately, smile still on his face and Mattie appeared to be half a second away from an out far too late meltdown. “What are you guys doing?” “Learning how to do the bouncing thing,” Killian answered, sending a snow shower over Roland’s legs when he stopped in front of him. That only drew more laughter out of him and another put-upon groan out of Robin. “Can I have my kid now, Lucas?” Killian asked. “Also how did you end up with him? Did Mr. and Mrs. V leave?” Ruby glared at him. “I am not letting you hold this kid while you are in skates. Mostly because you shouldn’t be in skates anymore, but that’s a can of worms I’m not interested in opening either.” “That’s not an answer to the question I asked.” “I’ll take him,” Emma said, inching forward and breathing a soft sigh of relief when she was back on the ground. “Seriously though, Rubes did we totally scandalize Mr. and Mrs. V by being late? Are we late?” “Not really,” Robin muttered, earning his own glare from Ruby and he held up both hands in surrender. “Your move, Lucas.” “You’re not really late,” she said. “Cap left post early, but they were standing out by the locker room and you guys weren’t there and Mer mentioned the near riot and that was a garbage goal so I figured you’d guys would be here doing something painfully adorable.” “So you stole Mattie from the Vankalds?” Killian asked, tugging Roland back to his feet. “Your face is going to get stuck like that, Lucas.” “I was right. You guys were doing something painfully adorable and I only added to it because I know both of you and know that you both wanted your equally adorable kid. But said adorable kid kind of draws a crowd and Locksley and Scarlet announced they were just going to walk with me to make sure nothing happened.” “In the tunnel?” “Their words, not mine.” “She’s making it sound way weirder than it is, Cap,” Will reasoned, but he was making a face at the baby in Emma’s arms and that kind of ruined his entire argument.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s totally not weird,” Killian grinned. “Banana finally stop texting you?” “No, I think she’s talking to El too though because not all of her messages are making sense and she’s come up with, like, sixteen different Post headline options.” “Anything good?”

“If I tell you no are you going to tell her?” “Yes.” “Then every single one is fantastic.” Killian scoffed, moving towards the bench and brushing his hand on the side of Mattie’s jersey. It did something impossible to Emma’s entire being – made sure it exploded or burst into light or sentiment and Robin was taking pictures that time.

“Whatever, judge me,” he muttered, as soon as he noticed the curious glances his direction. “Lucas is right, this is painfully adorable. I don’t care.”

“Hook,” Roland shouted. “Can we go get food now?” Emma bit her lip, emotions and that same sentiment and a few other descriptions she hadn’t come up with yet flooding her system and settling in the pit of her stomach and in between her ribs and Killian nodded quickly, lifting Roland over the boards.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

[attract-mode-collective]

Scorpion Vs. Elon Musk’s Mom: FIGHT

Yes, that is indeed Elon Musk’s mother up there. And no, I do not have a bigger sized version of the pic. Guess we could always ask captain-price-official if one does exist.

Or perhaps make your own? Here’s Elon’s mum by herself (and in higher res)...

And with that, it’s time to see what else I tweeted during the first half of March! So, sticking with fighting games: which Street Fighter character does lighting better? Ryu, via the animated movie (via settei)...

… Or Bison, via the live action flick (via toghomevideo)...

I absolutely love win quotes from rom hacks (via bison2winquote)...

I have a massive backlog of games, yet Tekken 7 just shot straight to the top of the list, thanks to the knowledge that you can accurately recreate Dynamite Headdy characters (via mysterious0bob)...

This Hatsune Miku X Space Channel 5 figure is v. nice (via nendoroidoftheday)...

A friendly reminder to everyone that A. I'm a massive fan of Seaman & B. my birthday is about a month away (via nutastic)...

This scene at the beach with a Figma of Link, from A Link Between Worlds, feels more like Link's Awakening than anything else (via vyntic)...

Toys and models are no longer just for reenacting memorable in-game moments, they can also reproduce famous IRL events that surrounded the games themselves (via 8bitcentral)...

So what's the going rate for ET for the Atari 2600 that was supposedly dug up in for that so-called documentary, Atari: Game Over? Which I recently re-watched and still can't believe people think is real. At any rate, am assuming the autograph from Howard Scott Warshaw gives it some actual value (via it8bit)...

And what's the going rate for Chinese Famiclone karaoke carts, primarily one with Jackie Chan on the label. Am also wondering if it's cuz his songs are included... you are aware of his successful career in music as well, right? (via ulan-bator)...

Been struggling to come up with a zinger for the past 10 minutes, but ain't nuthin gonna beat "Welcome to the Velvet Room y'all!" (via jatayu)...

To be filed under: it's funny cuz it's true (via doctorbutler)...

So the weather has been awful around these parts, lots of rain & snow, which gets in the way of imagining a giant tetromino in the sky (via uvula.jp)...

When playing Super Mario Galaxy 2, please keep in mind that somewhere out there, despite being out of view, is the ghost of Luigi floating through vast stretches of empty space, with zero destination or purpose (via suppermariobroth)...

Speaking of Luigi, and Supper Mario Broth; they’ve taken the adventures he talks about in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door and illustrated them in the form of a comic that closely adheres to the style of the game...

Also a friendly reminder of that rift between Mario & Luigi for a few years (they'd eventually make up & resume doing games together, as everyone knows) after Mario discovered his brother being all friendly with the enemy in Super Mario World (via peazy86)...

Yet another obscure Mario factoid: the move he uses to defeat Bowser in Super Mario 64 originates from an old furikake commercial that predates the game by about a decade (via suppermariobroth)...

Yet another random gif of Mario from the 80s, this one from a video guide from Super Mario Bros; I miss the days in which his look was not yet standardized (via suppermariobroth)...

And here we have a completely unlicensed Dr. Mario, unless Nintendo gave him the OK to brush up on his doctoring skills by assuming an alias at a family clinic in Houston TX (via suppermariobroth)...

It's funny how, when it comes to obscure Mario games, everyone brings up Mario Is Missing or Hotel Mario, but what about Super Mario Bros. & Friends: When I Grow Up? (via kazucrash)...

Mario gets his own breakfast cereal.

Luigi? Booze. (via @carolynmichelle)

A question that I posed on MAR10Day (via retrogamerblog)...

It's not Super Mario Bros, but simply…. Bros (via therubberfruit)...

I've never wanted something "bootleg" to be official as much as as this Dark Souls fan art. And if the actual game somehow looked like this, that would be... gladly welcomed (via gamefreaksnz)

Oh God, Nier is amazing and all, but I would SO be down for a yelling & screaming match with Yoko Taro on this point (via @Avisch_)...

Behold my fave Twitter thread in recent memory: "You see, that was taken from Africa, but it belonged to the Keyblade Masters. Imma take it off your hands for ya."

"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Gaia. A sword far heavier than any sword has rights to be, yet a true 1st Class will wield it with ease. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."

"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Hyrule. Originally crafted by the goddess Hylia herself. Only a true hero that is pure of heart and strong of body is capable of wielding the sacred blade. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."

Naturally the star of Home Alone 1 & Home Alone 2 has both a NES Classic and Famicom Mini, like all Hollywood bigwigs (via @SimonParkin)...

While discussing Ready Player One with a colleague, was reminded of the dude who was so inspired by the book that he turned his apartment into an arcade (and then his fiancé broke up with him; via nydailynews.com)...

Recently there was some kind of event at Sega HQ, I think? Details are basically nonexistent due to the language barrier, but far as I can gather, 16 super fans were invited to come by & party (via @SEGA_OFFICIAL)...

... If you check out #セガ公式アカウントオフ会 you'll see numerous pics from the get-together, though the one thing that stands out is the assortment of Sega hardware (via @KK__Cy)...

... MIA, cuz no variants were on display, is my fave alt ver. of the Mega Drive: the Wondermega. But @yu100s took one of his own… with the ugly ass US Sonic 1 NOT FOR RESALE cart inserted, Jesus fucking Christ...

The Sega logo in katakana looks pretty hawt (via @Exciteless)...

... Yet the Sega logo in Arabic which is official, is even hawter (via boingboing.net)...

Please enjoy your daily recommended dosage of an erotic hospital-management sim (via @topherflorence)...

NCSX makes the fidget spinner comparison, though the fidget cube seems a bit more appropriate; behold the fidget game controller...

Toy Fair recently took place, and naturally I took tons of pictures. You can find all of them on my personal Instagram, though a few are worth re-posting here. Like the latest in NECA's line of classic movie characters, as they appeared in video game adaptations...

Though in the case of their take on the Alien vs. Predator arcade game, they even included Capcom's original characters...

Unpainted, pre-production figures from Reflection's upcoming Ghost 'N Goblins line, sporting the oh-so popular Kenner-eqsue retro look...

Pint-sized arcade cabs, available this fall for $400. They’ll come unassembled, though dead simple to put together; the construction of the assembled mini cab was surprisingly sturdy, plus the screen wasn't bad (contrary to the picture that my iPhone's camera paints). Though the controls were shit; no word on whether the parts can be swapped or not...

Was delighted to not not only see Cuphead merch at Toy Fair, but more than just one instance (though this was the only time I was allowed to take a picture)...

Came across a producer of infant goods that had a selection of Super Mario baby bibs...

I asked the rep if this was their first foray into video games and the answer was "Yes." And when asked who's been mostly buying them, was told "Video game collectors, who don't even have children… it's so bizarre!!!"

Sticking with bibs, here's a set that tied to Dragon Quest (via miki800.com)...

... I asked on Twitter what they said and @alexfkraus was kind enough to provide translations, here and here.

Was so inspired by @MinusWorld listing which characters he'd like to see in the next Super Smash Bros that I decided to cite a few of my own:

- Mona from WarioWare - Nester from Nintendo Power’s Howard & Nester comics - Link from that Japanese A Link To The Past commercial - A deck of Hanafuda cards

... BTW, had no idea Ollie also mentioned a Hanafuda; I only saw his initial four, initially! Anyhow, my second round of choices:

- Ashley from Another Code - The "who are you running from?" guy in the Game Boy Camera - Lucas from The Wizard - The 4WD from Stunt Race FX (since Fighters Megamix with the Daytona USA 2 car clearly ain't ever happening)

I alas forgot to include BoxBoy, much like how I got these Uniqlo shirts when they were on sale last year (via minusworld.co.uk)...

Here we have my fave reaction on Tumblr to the Nintendo Direct with the Smash 5 reveal, if only for the punchline (via mendelpalace)...

And here we have my fave reaction on Twitter (via @redford)...

This one is also great because wrestling (via @SteveYurko)...

Speaking of wrestling, remember that time Tazz, while commentating for Smackdown, was also playing a game of Final Fantasy X-2… or so he thought? (via defjamvendetta)

"hey quick question whoever's developing the wwe games now: what the fuck"

"It helps him eat small fish"

"better question: why isn't this an option in every game ever"

"FAIR POINT" (via snoozlebee)

Whereas most publishers in Japan, during the 80s & 90s, had festivals (or carnivals) centered around shmups, Asmik's was based on women's wrestling (via oldgamemags)...

It's not for a video game, though the illustration is by someone who has been involved in a few; it's by Satoshi Yoshioka, of Snatcher and Policenauts fame (via videogamesdensetsu)...

It's not for a video game that actually exists, but is instead a completely fictional instructional manual, one that makes you wish it was real (via tomeccles)...

Just when you think you've seen every ultra, wacky & obscure video game box art there is to see out there (via @CoolBoxArt)...

I have a serious soft sport for the usage of video game imagery among early 80s musicians (via siryl)...

... What the final product looks like BTW/FYI...

A. so there's a VR version of Fruit Ninja, did not know that, & B. if you like watching people play it (for whatever reason), yet wish you could actually see a person swinging a sword and not just some abstract swiping motions… here ya go (via prostheticknowledge)...

Playing games in VR is so 2017… Handling your collection of games in VR? Now THAT is very 2018 (via mendelpalace)...

Lots of friends are playing the new DBZ fighting game, though I'll give it a shot once it hits the arcades and is also in a cab like this (via @Fotosdecomics)...

I absolutely need to get my hands on this S.H. Figuarts Shinya Arino (via tinycartridge)...

Available right now, some Altered Beast, Bare Knuckles, and Rent-a-Hero resin kits (via miki800.com)...

Cursed? More like blessed amirite (via @Pretzel_Pup)...

I know Yoji Shinkawa is best buds with Hideo Kojima, but would he be open to doing another gig at Konami? Cuz him art directing a reboot of Twin Bee would kinda be the best (via @SESKOU)...

There's money on the table with this Metroid X Pepsi mash-up, am confident of this (via ryangilleece)...

Cuz even someone like Samus Aran needs a good stretch every once in a while (via jon-bliss)...

And this third piece of Metroid fan art in a row is very much related to Metroid 3, aka Super Metroid (even though it technically depicts the ending to Metroid 2; via mmillus)...

Awakening indeed (via brookietf)...

For those who have asked, yes, I have seen the hack that connects the Switch to an itty-bitty black & white TV...

Though I'm only really interested in tiny b&w CRT TVs if I can play Duck Hunt on them (via arcade-crusade)...

I not only dig teeny-tiny displays for light gun games, but also for driving games as well (perhaps some of you might remember the following from this)...

Back to tube displays; seeing Zelda on a CRT also reminded me of how Dark Souls look on a CRT, aka CRT Souls or 480i Souls (which again I'm hoping regular readers of the blog remember, especially since the original post has fallen victim to a Tumblr bug)...

"while playing king's field just now i died in the magic cave of fire and when i warped back there were beautiful graphical glitches everywhere" (via mendelpalace)...

Some landscapes, filled with beauty and mystery and terror, are accidental (see: the graphical glitches from before)… whereas others are completely deliberate, as in the case of Atlantia (via obscurevideogames)...

Once again, I REALLY need to figure out a way to play some PC88 games (via obscurevideogames)...

Here we have a semi-common Space Invaders sighting for the time, in an episode of Battle Fever J, one of the earliest Super Sentai shows (via himitsusentaiblog)...

And here we have a rare Game Gear sighting, in old OVA anime, Starship Girl Yamamoto Yohko. Hell, it’s a rare Game Gear in anything sighting; the only other example that comes to mind is Rumble In The Bronx (via @TheOtaking)...

And an equally rare Sonic on the runway sighting (via kotaku.com)...

I normally watch a video in its entirety before making a recommendation. Yet when it came to this overview of Last Bronx's legacy in Japan (and lack thereof in the West), hearing the main theme to Beat Takeshi's Violent Cop near the 3 min mark was all I needed (have since watched the whole thing, and as expected, it's another awesome Kim Justice production)...

And finally, a friend notes: "subzero's right arm is real close to trump's spinal column

just sayin" (via @jbillinson)...

[thedappleddragon]

I woke up today from the LONGEST most INTRICATE dreams. one part was watching Steven universe’s whole life except he was a depressed tortoise who tried to aliven’t at some point. another part was me performing at Lucas Oil Stadium as part of an ice skating troupe instead of marching band (I've performed at LOS as part of my marching several times, it was amazing each and every time). I didnt know where I was supposed to stand or what I was supposed to do or where I even started, and people kept trying to wave me over to my dot. I turned to someone and said “I have no clue what I'm doing, but dont worry, the other Lauren knows.” referring to I guess real me? who was asleep and dreaming this whole scenario, and was therefore god? later that personification of me walked out onto the field and did a solo ice skating act what opened a portal to the dream dimension, which lead to my third dream. my dad was the god/king of this dimension and I was his heir to the throne. but then there was sone story about him being evil? or how the dream world was collapsing in on itself because of the o=portal and corrupting everything, and I had to time travel and become The First One to stop it all which meant I would be stuck in time forever and The First One was an ancient benevolent god or something. I think the whole thing worked out, I just remember waking up really amazing at how long the dreams felt. then I looked at my phone and it was 1 pm LMAO. I just kind of hung out thinking about what I should do with the day, and spent a few hours playing Stardew Valley. I just started fall and had to write out diagrams on my farm to know how many seeds to buy and stuff. I took a quick break because my computer’s fan was screaming at me, begging for me to stop. I thought to myself “eh I could eat” but then I looked at the clock and though “or I could wait a couple of hours and then make pasta” so I played Stardew until around a little before 6 I think and went out to the kitchen where my sister had brought out another frozen pan pasta meal. I had planed for the past like 3 hours that I was gonna make fettuccini with chicken but I made the other thing instead. we both snacked on salad and leftover Mac n cheese while I cooked it. it smelled wierd the whole time, but I think in retrospect it was just the spices and zucchini in it. when it was done it was too spicy for my tasted but I still ate about half and put the other half in the fridge. then my dad came home at about 7 after texting us that he wanted to take us out driving again. but first he spent some time preparing a white chicken chili that I really like. we drove to the mall hoping to buy him some new shoes (I was oddly tense driving, but he said when I did good at stops or turns which felt really nice :D) but the shoe store was closed, and Dicks’s only had really expensive spots shoes so we went to target instead. he got a couple pairs of shoes, my sister got a sweater on clearance and some gum, and I got a pair of socks and a mint/dark chocolate KitKat that was pretty good, but not the best mint/chocolate combo ive had. we stopped by home, dropped my sister off at her friend’s house, and came home for real. by then the chili was done and my dad and I ate some on opposite sides of the room until I went to my room to watch youtube and eat. I watched drawfee’s second life 2 livestream VOD and it had me crying laughing at times. I fuckin LOVE drawfee, I gotta get some merch soon. I also realized  just how shit my laptop’s battery life is. it’ll go from 100% to about 10% in 2 hours, and that’s not even at constant use. maybe it’s because I have a fuckton of tabs, idk. I'll close them some day.... I feel like I should go to sleep since it’s 1am but 1) I usually dont fall asleep until after 2 and 2) that would mean I only had like a 12 hour day. I'm wondering if I should start slowly waking up earlier and earlier so I dont waste so much daylight? but then again what am I using daylight for anyway if I stay inside all day anyway. now I want to spend more time outside. but it’s cold and all my hobbies are indoor hobbies. what am I to do. idk. but I had this vision in my head earlier today of waking up early, making French toast, and drizzling it in golden syrup. contrary to popular belief, I kind of like the morning. there’s something so heartwarming about telling other people good morning. it feels so special :) so intimate for NO REASON. I wish I had people to wish a good morning to. but for now, I guess a good night will suffice.

edit: ok update I was scrolling through Tumblr when my sister texted me asking to sneak out and pick her up from her friend’s house at 2 am so of course I snuck into the garage to take my dad’s keys and drove there and back. it made me realize how easy it would be to just LEAVE? theoretically. anyway now my hands are freezing so I guess ill wear my fursuit paws for a minute until they heat back up

[welllpthisishappening]

Tripping Over the Blue Line (39/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: Welcome to Los Angeles, hotbed of NHL drama. At least in this version of the NHL. It gets real dramatic guys, but Roland Locksley is here to be painfully adorable in front of media hordes, so there’s some give and take. We’re closing in on the end of this whole story and your continued feelings and thoughts and clicks just absolutely blows my mind. You’re all incredible. Screaming the praises of @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan forever and ever.  Also on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr

“Is it always sunny here?” Will asked, squinting up at the sky like he was actually in pain.

Killian rolled his eyes and Roland laughed softly next to him, tugging on the bottom of his jacket and while he certainly wasn’t about to complain about sunshine, it was fairly hot. And they couldn’t take the jackets off.

He wouldn’t complain.

He’d just sweat to death. Probably.

“Shut up, Scarlet,” Robin muttered, brushing against him as he swung open one of the doors on the side of the Staples Center.

Will made a face, pulling Roland away from Killian’s side and slinging his arm over his shoulder – as if that would somehow protect him from age-old insults and jabs just a few minutes before league-mandated media days.

Roland couldn’t stop laughing. He and Henry had gotten new merch almost as soon as they clinched – Eastern Conference champion t-shirts and hats and sweatshirts and, now, they were both in their own Stanley Cup Finals jerseys that Killian was half convinced they'd never actually take off.

“Just because you don’t have a kid wearing your jersey doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk about it,” Killian said, widening his eyes knowingly.

Will groaned. “Whatever.” “Hit the nail right on the head then, didn’t I?” “You aren’t Mrs. V, you don’t get to just start shouting clichés at me, Cap.” “I hardly think I shouted anything at you. We’re having this normal, calm conversation, like normal, calm people. You’re the one freaking out.” “Who’s freaking out, Hook?” Roland asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he started tugging on suit jackets again.

“Uncle Will,” Killian said.

“Ok,” Will snapped, turning on Killian and Roland with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “First of all, I am not freaking out. I am hot.” “Presumptuous.” Robin rolled his eyes and Killian grinned, glancing down at Roland, who, it appeared, was finding all of this more amusing than just about anything. “Don’t antagonize him,” Robin sighed, brushing his hand over Henry’s shoulder.

“Scarlet’s words, not mine,” Killian laughed.

“Warm,” Will corrected and he still hadn’t uncrossed his arms. “I am warm. Because it is perpetually sunny here and we have to wear these stupid jackets.” “Those stupid jackets let you keep your job.” “I could pay the fine,” Will said quickly. “How much you think it’d be if I just showed up to media in a t-shirt and shorts?” “More than you can afford,” Ruby answered, appearing at the end of the hallway with a smug look on her face and no league-mandated jacket.

“You don’t know that. For real though, how much do you think it’d be, Lucas?” “Too much,” she said, heels echoing on the floor when she walked towards them with a clipboard in one hand and her phone in the other. She didn’t look at any of them when she moved, a picture of media relations efficiency and something that might have been frustration because Killian had absolutely been trying to antagonize Scarlet.

Will grumbled, kicking at something that wasn’t actually on the floor as Ruby’s fingers flew across her phone screen. “Does it ever rain in Los Angeles? I’d really love if it would rain. Or at least maybe a few clouds.” “You’re a pessimist, aren’t you?” “Warm, Lucas. I am warm.” “Maybe you should take a shower before media.” “Ok, see, that’s just rude.”

“They call it the sunshine state for a reason, don’t they?” “I don’t think that’s California,” Robin objected. “Cap, what’s California?” Killian made a face and held his hands up. “Why would I know that?”

“You think Emma knows?” “Why would anyone care about that?” “You guys are always doing that cutesy fact thing. And Liam totally made you learn what all the states were at some point. That’s almost too on point for him.” “He never did that, although I will pay you a good amount of money to tell Liam he missed out on some sort of academic activity. Maybe it is sunshine, then.” “That’s Florida,” Henry corrected and four wide-eyed adults stared at him. “Florida’s the sunshine state. California’s the golden state.” “How’d you know that?” “I do go to school sometimes.” “Sometimes?” “Well when you guys aren’t in the Cup Finals.” “And he’s still got homework to do,” Robin added as Henry sighed dramatically.

Killian laughed, hauling Roland up without even really considering it and everyone in a five-foot radius rolled their eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Robin muttered.

“It’s because you’re old,” Will added. “And, you know, what? You guys might have vaguely adorable children wearing your jerseys now, but, but , I’m some kind of fan favorite. What do you two say to a friendly little bet?” “What?” Killian asked, rolling his shoulder so Roland’s weight shifted a bit more comfortably. He was definitely going to hurt himself.

“A bet,” Will repeated.

“No, I heard you. I just don’t understand where this is going.” Ruby was tapping her heel impatiently and her phone hadn’t stopped making noise since they’d landed at LAX the day before. “If you guys could do this at, literally, any other time, that’d be absolutely fantastic.” “You got some kind of schedule to stick to, Lucas?” Killian asked and she glared at him.

“You know I do and you know Emma does too. Don’t act like you don’t.” He couldn’t really shrug since there was a seven-year-old wearing a Locksley jersey draped over his shoulder, but Killian hummed in agreement. He knew, had seen the to-do-list for the day that morning and Emma’s phone made almost as much noise as Ruby’s.

Will let out a low whistle, throwing a meaningful glance towards Robin. “Uh oh, Cap, were you not in your assigned room last night?” “Oh my God,” Killian sighed. “Lucas, what happened to this schedule?” Ruby made a noise in the back of her throat, smile threatening to overtake her face and Killian didn’t appreciate being backed into some sort of metaphorical corner like this. Will nearly fell over, arm clutching his side tightly as his whole body shook with laughter.

“Alright,” Ruby said sharply, falling back into business as soon as her phone vibrated four times in a row. “You’ve each got a table out there and people who want to talk to you. You sit, you answer questions, you don’t say anything stupid and, after a half an hour of this, you get up from those tables and those people and you find me and we go to Emma’s fan event and you smile for those people and then you go to skate. Got it?” “That was very efficient, Lucas,” Killian said.

“Shut up, Jones. Or I’ll tell Emma on you.” “Tell Emma what, exactly?” “That you’re being an ass.” “Ruby,” he snapped and she hissed in air through her teeth, tossing an apologetic look towards Roland.

“Sorry, Rol.”

“It’s ok,” Roland promised, never one to be too upset at the decidedly not-quite-family tendencies of a team trying to win its first Cup in several decades.

“He’s got a new jersey, he doesn’t care,” Robin reasoned. He rested his hand on Roland’s back, thumb tapping against his number and Killian wished they’d get on with media day so they could get on with the rest of the schedule and he could get back to a hotel room he hadn’t been assigned to.

This Los Angeles trip was going to be better. This wouldn’t end in fights and arguments and trade prospects. They were going to win here.

Roland moved, twisting Killian’s jacket as he tried to pull himself up to look at him. “Can I come with you, Hook?” “What?” Killian asked and Ruby had her phone out again. He heard a shutter snap and Roland had moved off his shoulder, balanced on his side and his arm and Ariel would kill him if he actually hurt himself because of this. “God, Ruby, what are you doing?” “This is painfully adorable. It should be Snapchat'ed.” “That seems more PR than you.” “That seems like none of your business,” she muttered distractedly, waving one hand in her face while her other hand sent out pictures to social media without his permission. “Bring Rol with you, it’s super cute.” Killian glanced at Robin – who seemed torn somewhere in between terrified at the prospect of arguing with the schedule and what would happen when Regina found out Roland was on the New York Rangers Snapchat. He shrugged and pulled Henry against his side.

“You want to come with me, Henry?” Robin asked. “We’ll confuse ‘em with mismatching jerseys.” Henry nodded enthusiastically and Ruby looked overjoyed. This was an addition to the schedule that would, probably, spark half a dozen headlines and it was positive and adorable and didn’t require her to do any extra work.

“Alright, mate,” Killian said, finally meeting Roland’s expectant gaze. “Let’s go talk to the horde.” Ruby groaned and he’d absolutely done it for the reaction. “Ok, well don’t call them that when you get out there,” she shouted, but Killian just waved his hand behind him as he moved down the hallway.

It wasn’t really that bad.

Roland was as good a buffer as any Killian could have asked for and half of the first round of questions were about him and his thoughts on the series and why exactly he had a nickname for the captain of the New York Rangers.

There were a lot of questions and a lot of voices and Killian wasn’t convinced his eyes hadn’t suffered permanent damage from the vaguely ridiculous amount of lights around them, but it wasn’t bad.

It was, almost, fun.

“What about the bet?”

Killian snapped his head up, eyebrows drawn low in confusion at a reporter who absolutely wasn’t from New York.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“Scarlet said there was a bet.” He groaned and Roland was actually sitting on his media table now, legs crossed underneath him as he surveyed the sea of reporters around them. “Of course he did,” Killian muttered. “What did he say the terms were?”

The reporter nodded once, glancing around to make sure the rest of the media horde noticed him. Killian tried not to groan again.

“Point, hits and ice time,” he said. “Add ‘em up, subtract any penalties, and between you and Scarlet, whoever ends up with the most after the first two games of the series. Wins.” “And the losers?” “Buy the other one’s jerseys and wear ‘em before the New York games.” “Pretty tame bet.” The guy shrugged. “He said something about team competition and getting the line back on track and, well, keeping you on the first line.” “Naturally,” Killian sighed, rolling his eyes and it didn’t even surprise him that Scarlet had taken the chance to publicly mock his line demotion. That’s what he got for making fun of him before. “Anything else?” “Not about the bet.” Killian sat up a bit straighter and even Roland seemed to notice the change in the reporter’s tone, pulling up towards the front of the table to swing his legs over the edge. “What about then?” he asked.

“About you and Milah Onde.”

His mouth dropped open and Roland made a noise, a gasp of understanding that Killian didn’t quite expect from a seven-year-old. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killian said, tongue darting over his lips and he pressed his arms against his side like he was willing the tattoo to disappear from underneath his jacket.

The reporter clicked his tongue and shook his head. “See, I’m fairly certain that you do. I’ve got sources.” “Yeah, who?” “I’m afraid I can’t just say who, but they’re credible and they put Milah Onde in the car at the same time as you when you got hurt.”

Killian swallowed and the room suddenly felt very small. It wasn’t. It was enormous. It was a goddamn conference room and there were no less than twenty different media outlets standing a few feet in front of them, every single one of them waiting for him to say something.

Anything.

He had to actually say something.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together tightly, trying to force the oxygen back into his lungs and come up with something, anything, that wasn’t this moment – getting on the ice and skating and scoring and he was on some kind of multi-game point streak, they should want to talk about that.

They shouldn’t want to talk about this.

No one else knew about this. Who knew about Milah? Robin and Gina and Scarlet and Ruby and Liam and Elsa and Anna. That was it.

And Emma.

Emma knew about Milah and the accident and every single moment of that night.

Emma.

Killian opened his eyes and something felt like it had shifted in that entirely too-big conference room, staring out at a mass of reporters with an easy stare that didn’t quite make sense for whatever situation he’d stumbled into.

Emma.

Emma knew and Emma didn’t care and Emma wasn’t the source and that was enough. No matter what they printed.

“Any sort of comment, Killian?” the reporter asked, eyebrows lifted and phone held loosely in his hand. “About Milah? You know, from what I can tell by the records I’ve been given, that divorce was never final. She died before it went through.” Roland shifted on the table, turning around to look at Killian. He smiled.

“I’ve got nothing to say,” Killian answered, pulling Roland back towards him and resting his hand on the Locksley emblazoned across his back.

“What about the new one?” “Excuse me?” “Well, you two haven’t exactly been shy about it? You and the front office girl. She’s kind of a perennial dater isn’t she? Although at least this one isn’t married.”

Roland stood up and Killian didn’t even try to stop him, mouth hanging open again and breath rushing out of him and, goddamnit, where was Ruby?

“Leave Emma alone,” Roland half shouted, a response before Killian could even begin to formulate coherent thoughts.

That woke him up. “Sit down, mate,” Killian muttered and the reporter laughed.

“Thanks for the tip, kid,” he said, glancing around at the crowd that was still standing there waiting for Killian to acknowledge Milah. “Anything else you’d like to add, Cap? Maybe, what’s her name, Emma, got handed this job with the Rangers because she’s good friends with your media director? Or how you two have proved a complete distraction for this entire team throughout the season? Anything?” “We’re in the Cup Finals,” Killian answered. “Doesn’t seem like much of a distraction.” “That seemed like a confirmation, Cap.” Killian rolled his eyes. “That what you want?” “Whatever you’ll give.” “Alright,” he said sharply, hand still on Roland’s back. “Fine. I am dating Emma Swan. It is not a distraction. For me or anyone else on my team. She’s ridiculously good at her job and your source probably should have mentioned that when they were giving you the rundown on all of this. None of it, however, has anything to do with getting on the ice or winning a Cup, which is why we’re here right now. So unless you’ve got a question about that, then we’re done.” He stood up, nearly knocking the chair over behind him and Roland was still smiling. “C’mon, mate,” Killian muttered, holding his hand out. Roland jumped off the table and jogged towards Ruby, standing just a few feet away from them, looking as if the entire world was about to crash down around them.

“A little late, huh, Lucas?” he asked.

“Scarlet was explaining the bet to anyone who would listen. I didn’t….” “I know,” Killian interrupted. “It’s fine.” “It is the opposite of fine.” “That too. Who was that? He’s not from New York is he?” Ruby shook her head and, eventually, Roland was going to get tired of being pulled against people’s sides of some sort of child-based support system. “He got credentialed through the Kings. He’s like TMZ, but somehow worse since TMZ is almost actual journalism now.” “What?” “You know, they break a lot of stories and especially in sports…” “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant he got credentialed through the Kings? You’re sure?” “Well, I didn’t do it. So it must have been.” “Who’d be in charge of that?”

Ruby shrugged. “It depends team to team. With stuff like this it’s probably a couple of different people, honestly.” “But just you in New York?” “I’m very specific about who gets in.” “You’re a control freak is what you’re saying,” Killian laughed and Ruby actually stuck her tongue out. “So it could be media relations and PR then? Some kind of joint credential effort?” “What are you getting at?” Killian raised his eyebrows and it was almost too obvious when Ruby understood. “Oh, shit,” she muttered. “Sorry, Rol. Again. Don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Is that possible?” Killian pressed.

“It could be,” Ruby admitted. “Cover your ears, Rol.” Roland did as instructed, smiling widely at Killian as he moved his hands. “Shit,” she repeated, stamping her foot for good measure. “God fucking damnit. Emma’s going to lose her mind. She’s going to kill him, you know that?” “I’d probably help, honestly.” “Well neither one of you can actually do that.” “No one else knows,” Killian said. “About Milah and the accident. No one except Gold. And, now, maybe, Neal who’s credentialing gossip websites to write stories about it. I don’t get it.” “For real?” Killian shrugged. “Gold is all about control,” Ruby explained. “Or that’s what it seems like at least. And if he bought the Kings last year and brought in all his new people then he did it for a reason. To win a Cup. You’re on some kind of ridiculous point streak and this team is good and this could work, Cap. This team can win. He knows it. So he’s fighting with something else. It’s a distraction, all over again.” “That’s insane.” “Nah,” Ruby objected. “That’s front office politics.” “But why drag Emma into it?” “A complete takedown. I mean, they fired her too didn’t they?”

Killian nodded slowly, breathing coming in short gasps and it did, almost, make sense. Maybe not in the real world where there was a Cup to win and a max deal to sign, but in this world where everything seemed flipped on its head, it was almost too obvious.

“He’s trying to break you apart,” Ruby continued, taking his silence for misunderstanding. “Both of you. If you’re thinking about the past and worried about Emma, then he’s winning. And the team gets distracted and the New York tabs drag you over some metaphorical coals.” “Fuck,” Killian mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez, sorry, mate.” Roland didn’t seem impressed, head tilted up to stare at him intently. “Hook,” he said and Killian hummed distractedly. “Are you and Emma going to break up?” “What? No, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Roland mumbled, a lie so obvious Killian was surprised it didn’t come with a flashing neon sign as well.

Killian crouched down, pulling on the bottom of the brand-new jersey and Roland wouldn’t meet his eyes. “No one’s leaving, mate,” he said seriously. “I promise.” Roland nodded slowly, still staring at his shoes. “Ok,” he mumbled. “Because I like Emma.” “I do too.” “You might want to mention that,” Ruby added, pushing her phone into Killian’s face. “Several times. As soon as you see her.” Killian sighed, eyes closing lightly and it didn’t really matter because that headline was going to be seared into his memory for the rest of his life. “Cover your ears, mate,” he said before muttering every single curse he could think of.

She was working when they got to the fan event and Killian’s phone battery was somewhere in the realm of very dead , a string of text messages from half a dozen people who all demanded to know what was going on .

Elsa had sent the link to the tweet.

As if he hadn’t seen it. And thought about nothing except the tweet the entire car ride to the fan event.

Regina was, apparently, going to kill him.

She’d have to get in line.

“Come on, Cap,” Ruby muttered, pushing on the back of his jacket as he stepped through the door. “One foot in front of the other.”

Robin shot her a meaningful look – his phone in his hand and Regina was texting all of them now – but Ruby didn’t move her hand or stop muttering semi-supportive nonsense in Killian’s ear as he walked into the restaurant.

“Lucas, I haven’t lost my motor skills,” he hissed and Emma, somehow, managed to hear that, even with Merida a few feet behind her and a crease between her eyebrows.

They’d hit traffic.

Los Angeles was the worst city in the entire world.

“Hey,” Emma shouted, waving her hand towards a table and a line of fans. There was merch everywhere. She was wearing merch – a shirt with Cup Readyemblazoned across the front and Killian bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from kissing her right there in the middle of a chain restaurant in downtown Los Angeles.

“We hit traffic,” Killian explained, answering a question he hadn’t actually been asked. Emma lowered her eyebrows.

“You ok?”

“Fine.” “Jones.” “You didn’t get any text messages did you? Actual phone calls? Mary Margaret planning my death in frightening detail?” Emma tilted her head, a shadow of a smile tugging on the ends of her mouth and she crossed her arms slowly, staring at him like he’d started speaking a different language. They were very behind schedule. And his phone vibrated again.

“I haven’t been able to check my phone,” Emma said. “I’ve been kind of busy trying to make sure the fans didn’t start rioting when you guys were ten minutes late.” “Traffic.”

“So you mentioned.” “If we go talk somewhere right now, do you think the fans will actually start to riot?” Emma tugged her hair back over her shoulder, lip pressed tightly in between her teeth and she shook her head. “Mer,” she yelled, glancing over her shoulder at her assistant. “Get them all in line and Locksley and Scarlet can sign and photo op now.” “What about Cap?” Merida asked, nodding in Killian’s direction. He’d never actually sat down.

“Later.” Merida didn’t object. She very clearly wanted to. “Ok,” she said. “Here’s your phone, boss. You left it in the kitchen. It’s been buzzing nonstop.” “Of course it has.” Killian groaned. “Merida, is there somewhere that isn’t filled with chanting fans right now?” “Probably the kitchen,” she answered, moving her shoulder in the same direction she’d walked out of a few moments before.

“Alright. Come on, Swan.” He held his hand out without really thinking about it and the fans cheered when they weaved their way through the crowd, some of them trying to pat him on the back while others shouted detailed game plans that absolutely would not work on the ice.

Killian counted no less than five different shutter snaps and Emma’s hand was wrapped up in his. They pushed their way through the kitchen and a few employees glanced up at the sound, eyes going wide when they noticed Killian.

Two more shutter snaps.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbled, pulling Emma behind him towards a corner and this was ridiculous.

“What’s going on with you?” Emma asked. Her phone buzzed in her hand.

“You should probably read those. I bet El sent you the link too.” “Link?”

“Tweet. Screenshot. Whatever. I wouldn’t be surprised if Banana had some very detailed opinions for you as well. She sent me ten text messages in a row.”

“About?” Killian sighed and there was no way around it. They had to talk about it. They had to resolutely ignore it. And make sure David didn’t follow through on any of the threats he’d sent Killian’s way that afternoon.

“There was a guy at media,” Killian started. “From some gossip site.” “A gossip site?” “Yeah. Started asking about some bet Scarlet wants us to agree to during the Finals and then all of the sudden started asking about...Milah.” Emma’s eyes widened and she reached her hand out quickly, gripping the front of his jacket of instinct. That almost made him feel better.

“Wait, what,” she sputtered, glancing around the kitchen like that guy’s source would suddenly appear in front of them. Just another shutter click. “Who would know that? I thought…” “No, you’re right, Swan.” “Gold?” Killian nodded slowly, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, and Emma’s eyes, somehow, got wider. “Lucas thinks so. And, well, maybe someone else.” “I don’t understand.” “Neal.” “Oh shit.” “Exactly.” “Is that who Ruby thinks credentialed this gossip guy?” “Smart, Swan,” Killian smiled and maybe he did actually feel better.

“I don’t know if that’s an actual compliment. God, what an ass. Ruby said she didn’t credential that guy?” Killian shook his head and Elsa needed to put her phone down. The text messages were nonstop. She’d probably teamed up with Anna. And he was too busy worried about his own phone that he didn’t notice Emma looking down at hers, only realizing what had happened when she let out a low whistle and took another step towards him.

“Is this real?” Emma asked, voice low and Killian’s shoulders sagged under the weight of disappointment three words could hold.

“Yeah.” “Like...this is out there. In the world. On the internet. Where people can see it?” “Yeah,” he repeated. He deserved every single threat David had sent him. And the ones Regina sent. And the ones Elsa and Anna were, probably, coming up with while he stood stock still in a kitchen with Emma still staring at your phone.

It wasn’t much of a story – more a headline with a Swan pun and Emma’s picture and promises of all the details of her trail of NHL stars and how she got her job in New York, something in that final paragraph about her and Killian and what she’d done to get her own department.

It wasn’t intelligent writing. It was drivel. It was stupid.

It was all over the goddamn internet.

“Who sent it to you?” Killian asked, positive he didn’t actually want the answer. He wanted to get on the ice. He wanted to hit something.

He wanted to kiss Emma without a kitchen employee taking another picture of them.

“El,” Emma answered.

“Of course. You know, you’d think she had other things to do.” “Oh God, Anna is texting me? I think. I don’t actually have her number.”

“Here let me see,” Killian said, holding his hand out. He didn’t even have to look at the number. The whole message was in caps lock. “Yeah, that’s Banana. El probably gave her your number. They’ve been taking turns yelling at me for the last forty-five minutes.” “Yelling? Why?”

She looked genuinely confused and maybe just a bit protective or defensive. Huh.

“Swan, did you read the story?” “I mean it’s not really much of a story.” “That’s true,” Killian admitted. “But this is exactly what you were worried about from the very beginning. This is, well, this is everything you didn’t want on some sort of national scale. El and Banana aren’t very happy with me. Neither are Regina or David, for that matter.” “David?” “I think it made it onto the subReddit.”

“Jeez. I’ll text him.” “No, no,” Killian said quickly, fingers wrapping around her wrist as she tried to swipe her thumb across her phone. “Don’t do that.” “What?” “Don’t text David. It’s not...he’s not wrong.” “This is all wrong,” Emma argued, tapping her finger on the side of her phone. “I mean aside from the us dating, but that’s been kind of obvious. God, did they try and make it seem like Graham and I dated?”

She laughed. She actually laughed, smile on her face and eyes tracing across his face and Killian wasn’t certain he’d loved her more than he did right then.

In the middle of a kitchen with fans chanting for him a few feet away.

“Is this the part of the conversation where I say that everyone is probably halfway in love with you, whether they dated you or not?” Killian asked and it was far too easy to talk to her.

It always had been. From the very beginning. It was far too easy to tease and joke and his pulse pounded in his ears, far too focused on Emma’s reaction to one tweet than any potential story about someone he loved six years ago.

Emma rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling and she muttered charmer under her breath. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“Swan, you can’t possibly be asking me that.” “I just did. What else did the guy say?” “Are we not worried about this? David went into some very specific details about what he was going to do when we landed in New York.” “Yeah, well he’s always been absurdly overprotective. I’m surprised he did that though, he’s very worried about messing up your pre-game schedule.” “I think he’s more worried about you.” She shrugged – a dismissive move that sent a shockwave of something down Killian’s spine and it might have been his own need to protect. “Swan,” Killian continued, fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “I’m serious.” “So am I. Come on, tell me what this guy said.”

Killian took a deep breath and Emma didn’t blink, just stared and waited for an answer. “He knew she was in the car.” “What?”

“Yeah.” “And he just told you that? He didn’t want a comment?” “Oh, no he definitely wanted a comment.” “You didn’t yell at him did you?” “I know how to answer questions, Swan,” Killian sighed. Emma made a face and there wasn’t really any space in between them, but she found some anyway, forehead resting on his chest and he couldn’t stop himself from moving, lips brushing over her hair as his hand wrapped around her waist. “And it was no comment. Or something like that.” “Something like that,” she repeated, voice muffled just a bit by his jacket. “Where was Ruby this whole time?” “Dealing with Scarlet and the bet.” “That almost doesn’t surprise me.” “A distraction.” Emma scoffed, tapping out a rhythm against his side, and he kissed her again. It was too easy. And she hadn’t run. She’d leaned against him – quite literally.

“I love you,” Emma mumbled and Killian squeezed his eyes closed.

“I love you too, Swan. More than anything.” More than gossip sites or ex-boyfriends giving out credentials to less-than-reputable news sources or even a team owner who, it appeared, wanted to tear Killian down from the past to the present.

He didn’t say that part.

He didn’t really have to.

“Some sort of team, right?” Emma asked. “That was the agreement.” “An enthusiastic one.” “Then we’ll deal with it. Let them write whatever they want about me.” The kitchen door swung open and they both should have expected Regina sooner, but they’d already spent far too much time in that kitchen. “Are you kidding?” Regina snapped, staring at Killian. “You walked out?” “You walked out?” Emma said, head pulled up and mouth hanging open and there was nowhere to actually hide in the middle of a kitchen. “I thought you said you told them no comment.” “Oh he told them that too, but not before he actually confirmed you two were dating and then stormed out and then promised my kid that you two weren’t ever going to break up.” “There was no storming, Gina,” Killian muttered. Emma hadn’t blinked yet.

“Well there was enough to warrant an ESPN blog post and you know who that doesn’t look good to? Front office. That’s who. Front office that you’ve let decide your entire future.” “I’m not an idiot.” “Could have fooled me.”

Emma blinked, turning so quickly she nearly lost her balance and Killian’s hand tightened around her waist. “Can he sue?” she asked, sounding as if she’d been considering legal action for the better part of this entire conversation.

Regina blinked once, lips twisting in thought and she hummed in frustration before she actually answered. “I don’t think so.” “Isn’t that libel?” “Not if it’s true,” Regina sighed. “And, well, Milah was in the car. I mean they didn’t do anything wrong, not really. But it…” “Doesn’t look good,” Emma finished. “Yeah, I got that.”

“I can’t stop it either. They’re going to run it before the game.” “How do you know that?” “I called the site, demanded an editor, got an incompetent idiot and was informed that the story was already set. Nothing I can do about it.” Killian wasn’t quite as angry at Regina anymore. “Thanks, Gina,” he said softly and she clicked her tongue in response.

“Your assistant is going nuts out there by the way,” Regina continued, glancing at Emma. “They all want Killian.”

“Ok,” Emma said. “Two minutes.” Regina nodded, gaze darting towards Killian. He tried to look somewhere in the area of confident and he could hear the crowd outside shouting his name, but it had been an exhausting day and the story was going to run no matter what.

Emma didn’t turn back towards him until Regina’s heels had retreated completely, both hands flat on his chest. “You told Roland no one was breaking up with anyone? Ever?” He didn’t expect that question.

“Uh, yeah,” Killian answered, stammering over the two words. “He was, uh, he was worried we were going to break up. Because of the story.” “And what did you say?” “I promised him that no one was leaving. And that I liked you too.” “Too?” “Rol wanted to make sure I knew he liked you.” “Oh.” Emma bit her lip, eyes falling towards the floor as she took a deep breath. “I’m not,” she whispered.” “Not what?” “Leaving. Or running. Even if they print everything. And I like you too.” He moved and Emma moved and there might have been another shutter click and another tweet, but they kissed each other anyway. Killian smiled for all of afternoon skate.

“Alright, so the rules of the bet are simple,” Will started, leaning up against the boards in the corner of the Staples Center with the edge of his skate pressing into the ice.

“Scarlet, we don’t have time for this,” Killian sighed, retreating back towards the line and warmups and it was already absurdly loud. He glanced up, a general idea of where the team boxes were and where Emma was sitting. Or would be sitting when she wasn’t helping Ruby run media requests.

It didn’t really make sense – she was in charge of her own department, after all – but Ruby had asked and Emma couldn’t bring herself to argue and it was so impossibly nice , Killian couldn’t stop himself from smiling whenever he thought about it.

“What’s he smiling about?” Robin muttered, knocking his shoulder against Will’s when he skidded to a stop.

Will shrugged. “Probably Emma. Or trying to win our bet.” “It’s definitely not your bet,” Killian mumbled, twisting his stick in his hands.

“Ew.” “Isn’t Belle supposed to be here for Game 2?” “What does that have to do with anything?” “Absolutely nothing. Fine, tell me the rules of the bet.” They were, surprisingly, almost exactly what the reporter had told him during media day and they really didn’t have time for some sort of side bet during the Stanley Cup Finals, but it had been a frustrating twenty-four hours and if Killian got to win a bet and brag in front of Scarlet then he’d make time for a side bet.

Killian won the first period, two shots on net and four hits and Will was whistled for a two-minute slash that drew the ire of Arthur during intermission. Will won the second – he scored. And that was, apparently, worth six points in whatever game they were playing.

“So you’re telling me, suddenly, you’re ahead?” Killian asked, tilting his head towards Will as Robin grumbled about focusing on the game as soon as they swung their legs over the boards.

“My game, my rules, Cap,” Will answered. He lowered his shoulder when he got back onto the ice, connecting on another hit and the Kings player next to him barely managed to stay on his skates. “And I’m beating the crap out of you now. Did you see that hit?” “I am on the ice with you Scarlet.” Arthur shouted something from the bench and Robin glared at both of them meaningfully. Will just laughed.

“Did we ever decide on terms?” Killian asked, pushing into the zone and he could feel a defender on his left side. It didn’t really matter. He was faster than just about anyone on the entire Kings roster.

He took the shot and missed wide right, but Robin was just a few feet away and he’d probably say it was a pass anyway. Robin’s shot went in.

They were winning.

Killian yelled, punching air and it probably looked as ridiculous as it felt, but they were winning Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals and there were only a few minutes left in the third. And that probably meant he was winning the bet too.

Unless Scarlet was cheating.

Robin groaned when Killian threw his arms around him, shouting nice shot in his ear like he didn’t know it was a fucking fantastic shot. “Maybe Gina won’t kill me now,” Killian added. “Setting you up like that.”

“You weren’t trying to pass to me.” “You don’t know that.” “I absolutely do.” “Whatever. Good goal. Good almost-pass. And I’m totally beating Scarlet now.” “That’s not even remotely true, Cap,” Will argued, clapping Robin on the shoulder as they skated back to the bench, a line of hands held out in front of them, ready for post-goal celebrations.

“How you figure? Assists have to be three, right? That’d put me somewhere in the double digits.” “Your math is horrible.” “You’re making up these rules as you go along!” Arthur actually stopped chewing his gum to yell at them, stepping off the bench and leaning over the boards to grab both of them by the scruff of their jerseys. “If you two don’t shut up about this goddamn bet,” he hissed, “then Regina Mills is not the only one who is going to be trying to kill you. She will have to learn how to bring you both back from the dead since I’ll have done the job already.” “Jeez. That’s harsh Arthur,” Killian muttered as Will let out a low whistle. “And don’t let her hear you mess up her name like that. Regina Mills-Locksley. It says so on her business cards.

“Plus,” Will added, “Gina only wants to kill Cap.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I will make sure she is intent on killing both of you. Got it?”

Arthur wasn’t going to kill them for the bet – whatever the rules of it actually were – he was going to murder his whole team for a complete lack of defense in the final minute and a half of Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

They lost. Another overtime loss and it wasn’t really anyone’s fault – a good shot on a quick turnaround and none of them had moved fast enough.

There were more questions after the game.

They weren’t actually about the game.

No one actually wanted to talk about anything that happened on the ice and Killian couldn’t actually throw things in front of his visitor’s locker because that would actually get Regina to follow through on those threats from the day before.

He’d hurt his hand at some point too, probably when he got hit during the third period and there was a bruise inching its way across his wrist and maybe one on his shoulder already as well. Every muscle hurt and he was exhausted and no one wanted to talk about the game. They wanted to talk about the story.

They kept using Milah’s name.

And he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t move, just had to sit there and keep muttering no comment like that actually meant anything, while desperately wanting someone, anyone , to ask him about losing Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

“Enough,” Robin shouted a few feet away, pushing through the throng of outstretched hands and cellphones that wouldn’t get away from Killian’s locker. “Enough! God, leave him alone. Ask a question about the goddamn game.” Will wasn’t far behind him, a look on his face that Killian hadn’t seen in years – since Liam got hurt. The crowd turned on both of them, arms still stretched out and questions ringing in the air and Killian could hear Ruby’s heels echoing down the hallway.

She was running.

Did you know Milah was married? Did you know she was married to Gold? Have you talked to Gold since you’ve been in LA, Cap? What does Emma think? Does Emma know? Hey, can we talk to Emma?

“Shut up,” Will sighed, twisting in between two sets of recorders to tug on Killian’s shoulder. “Come on, Cap. You’re done here.” Killian got on his feet and the crowd split in front of him – albeit with a good amount of grumbling and even more questions and his head snapped around when someone shouted Emma’s name again.

“Stop talking,” Killian muttered, eyes narrowed and voice low and he hadn’t actually taken his pads off yet. The reporter in front of him took a step back. “Don’t ask me about Emma again. Don’t ask me about Milah again. Ask me about the game. That’s why I am here. To play a game.” The reporter flipped his wrist and pushed his phone towards Killian’s face. “Thoughts on losing in Game 1 and how it might affect your deal, Cap?”

Killian sighed loudly and Will actually sounded like he was going to punch this reporter in the face, but no one actually moved – until another voice started talking. He muttered under his breath and Robin shifted next to him, arms crossed and eyebrows pulled low and they had to play another game in Los Angeles before all of this was over.

“Guys, guys, guys,” Neal laughed, pushing through the reporters with a smile on his face. “Come on, you know the rules. Once he leaves the locker, it’s over. That’s how it’s always been.” Killian’s jaw ticked as he tried to press his teeth together tightly, chanting the word fine in his head like some kind of mantra that would stop him from actually doing something stupid.

“Come on, Killian,” Neal continued, brushing by Robin to sling his arm over Killian’s shoulder.

Killian pushed him off, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head quickly. “I’ve got it,” he said. “They ask questions about the game and I’ll answer them.” Ruby skidded to a stop in the doorway of the locker room – something that looked like the actual embodiment of murder in her gaze as soon as she glanced Neal’s direction. And he didn’t look quite as confident anymore.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my locker room Cassidy?” Ruby asked, voice low and intent and her eyes were barely more than slits. They might have been shooting lasers too.

Killian was only half paying attention, gaze darting up when he, somehow, heard another set of shoes and Emma was standing in the doorway of the locker room, her blazer pinched underneath her arm and concern etched into every single corner of her face.

Neal laughed again, shoulders straightening as he found his voice again. “Your locker room, Ruby? Now you know that’s not true. You guys are guests here.” “Leave my players alone, Cassidy.” Neal clicked his tongue and Emma didn’t just roll her eyes at the sound, she rolled her whole head, groaning slightly for good measure. It almost made Killian laugh.

Until the reporters realized Emma was there.

They turned quickly, jockeying for position and someone shouted a string of less-than-professional words when their phone got knocked out of their hands. She blinked once, taken aback by the onslaught of questions and statements and Neal clicked his tongue again.

“Hey, Ems,” he said evenly, taking a step towards her as she pushed her arms back into her blazer. “Good game, huh?” He took another step forward and Emma backed up, the concern that had been on her face morphing into something that almost resembled disgust.

“Move, Cap,” Robin muttered, pushing on his shoulder for good measure and Killian nodded as he brushed by Neal and laced his fingers through Emma’s.

“Let’s get out of here, Swan,” Killian said, already half a step into the hallway as he tugged his jersey over his head.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Neal shouted and there were more camera clicks and unanswered questions as he slammed the locker room door shut. “I wanted to talk to you.” “Leave me alone, Neal,” Emma yelled, not even bothering to turn around.

“Not you. Killian.” The entire New York Rangers contingent stopped, turning around in near-perfect time and Neal’s eyes widened. “You know,” he continued, “by himself.” “No,” Robin and Will said at the same time, matching sounds of disgust in their voice and Ruby actually laughed, the sound of it echoing off the hallway’s walls.

Neal looked nonplussed, obviously certain just saying he wanted to talk to Killian would work – as if they were old friends and Neal’s eyes didn’t keep darting to Emma’s hand, still wrapped up in Killian’s with her laces hitting against her wrist.

“I just, uh, wanted to talk,” Neal added. Emma scoffed. “Maybe ask a couple of questions?” “I don’t have time for that,” Killian said.

“Just a few minutes?” “No.”

He didn’t wait for Neal to respond, hardly even paused after the word was out of his mouth before squeezing Emma’s hand slightly and leading some sort of quasi Rangers-parade out of the Staples Center visitors locker room.

“Did you win the bet?” Emma asked softly, pressing up on her toes to mutter the words into his ear.

“How’d you know that happened?” “Will told Ruby who told Dor who told someone at SI and it ended up online in between the first and second period.” “Efficient.” She hummed in the back of her throat and she never actually let go of his hand, even when they moved into the backseat of a team-provided town car with Scarlet in the front seat, muttering under his breath about being the kid on this team.

“What are you guys even playing for?” Emma asked. “I mean if there’s a bet, there’s got to be some kind of prize, right?” “That reporter yesterday said something about wearing each other’s jerseys, but Scarlet’s changing the rules whenever he sees fit, so who knows.” “That’s rude, Cap,” Will grumbled, propping his heels up on the dashboard.

“You’re going to scuff that,” Emma said. “Are you really changing the rules though?” “I have no idea what either one of you is talking about.” “You should probably write it down. Your point system or however we’re marking this.”

Will pulled his feet back down and twisted around to stare at Emma questioningly. “You know,” he said slowly, “I think you’re just as competitive as Cap is.” “Maybe,” Emma shrugged and Killian, finally, felt like he was breathing normally again. “Tell me the rules, Scarlet.” They wrote them down. Or, at least, typed them into Emma’s phone and there was a point system and Emma’s promise that she’d keep track of of every single one of them was still ringing in his ears by the time they opened the hotel room door they weren’t supposed to be sharing.

“You know,” Killian said, turning Emma until she was walking backwards into the room with his hands on her hips. “You were somewhere bordering close to protective in the last two days, love.” “Was I?” she asked and he’d probably remember how breathless her question was for the next two days they were in that stupid city.

“Bordering close to it.” “Weird.” “Absolutely.”

She laughed when her legs hit up against the bed, the smile on her face feeling like it had settled in the pit of his stomach or shot down his spine and Killian brushed his fingers through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears until his hand lingered on her neck. It left goosebumps. That felt like a bit of a victory too. “So I take it you didn’t win tonight, then?” Emma asked. “The bet, I mean. If Will was just changing up rules.” “Eh, it almost doesn’t matter.” “Over-competitive weirdo.” “Almost always.” She laughed again, tapping out a rhythm on the front of his jacket. “That’s ok,” Emma said and Killian got the distinct impression they weren’t talking about weird, hockey side bets anymore. “There’s still a lot of series left to play.” “That’s true.” “So you can totally beat up on Scarlet.” “Is it strange that you’re advocating me beating up on my own teammate, Swan?” Killian asked and he didn’t remember actually laying down. Or when Emma’s head landed on his shoulder, just appreciated that it was there and her hand hadn’t moved away from his shirt.

“Yeah, well,” she muttered. “I might be an over-competitive weirdo too.”

“Oh that’s absolutely true.”

Emma smacked at his shoulder and Killian tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her flush against his side and kissing the top of her head. And he didn’t remember when they started kissing each other either, just happy that they were, twisted around in hotel-supplied blankets before they’d even taken their shoes off.

He didn’t care about the story. He didn’t care about Neal. The only thing he’d ever really cared about was the game and, now, Emma Swan.

And there was a lot of series left to play.