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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 19

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The atmosphere changed in a snap. Everyone had felt it, except Peter.

Peter's early arrival had you all floored, especially you and Bucky. Oblivious to Peter, you were both dumbfounded, like deer caught in headlights. But this wasn't the best time to process what was going to happen next. You had to think off your feet. Yoy had to show Peter that there was no more than surprise in your faces.

Peter was finally here. That's what matters right now.

The instrumentals of Hungry Eyes kept playing in the background. Bucky's microphone created a feedback sound once he let it rest on his sides, making you all wince. Peter ditched his bags (which magically doubled), and strode towards you, engulfing you in a hug. Although he reeked of damp, mossy grass, and wood, you hugged him back.

"I got in early! How great is that?" He greeted you with enthusiasm laced in his voice. "Oh god, I've missed you, y/n!" He said into your ear.

The rest of the group, laid back on their comfortable seats, watched the whole thing unfold in front of their very eyes. You’d definitely pay to see Nat's look on her face right now.

"Yeah, you did!" you patted his back before pulling away, giving him the best smile you could do. "I've missed you, too. Welcome back, Parker. It's been quite a damn week without you."

Bucky was solid as a rock before Peter moved towards his spot (Bucky gave me a quick glance and a wry smile which you then returned; afterwards, you bit your lip looking at the exchange between the two) and hugged him tight as they exchanged their formalities. "It's nice to have you back, Peter."

"It is nice to be back." Peter replied, pulling away. "Whew, that one week went by real slow, huh? Feels like ages!"

"Yeah." Bucky glanced at you one more time. This time, it was longer. "No kidding."

"Alright everyone, it's nice to see you all together."

The group mumbled agreeably.

"Sam," Peter acknowledged, doing his signature finger gun pointed towards him, "I don't even know why you're here but I will as soon as I take a quick shower right upstairs and get these bags sorted out."

"You might want to take a long one there, buddy." Sam breathed out, fanning the air. "You smell like a caveman."

"Sam." You scolded, shaking your head.

"Yes, babydoll?" He jeered, which you and Bucky didn't like.

Most especially Bucky.

And Peter as well.

You gave Sam a look, hidden from Peter's view, of course, careful not to raise any kind of suspicion. But boy, was Sam giving you and Bucky a hard time. The group knew why he called you that, of course. But not Peter.

"Babydoll?" Peter repeated, a confused expression crossing his face as he turned towards you. "Why is he calling you that ridiculous nickname?"

Peter had always hated when men called you, as he put it, "ridiculous" nickname. You knew if he could punch them all, he would but because of Steve's number one rule (no fighting in the bar), he couldn't. It all started ever since you worked in the bar. You weren’t getting much attention when you were a waitress but you guess, when men see a woman behind the counter making their drinks, apparently, they think you’re easy, and naive, and would fall for their "charm" by calling you nicknames. One minute you’re "darling", the next you’re "doll" or "baby" or, the worst of them all, "mon chéri."

God, did men really think women would be turned on by a French nickname with a horrendous French accent? Perhaps, the idiots do.

You suddenly wondered if Peter felt the same.

"He's just kidding." You mumbled, taking him away from the group. "You know how Sam is."

You started to lead him further towards the door where his bags were.

"I know how he is, y/n." He grew more agitated now, triggered by what Sam had called you. "I've known him longer than you. Okay, what on earth is going on here?" Peter turned around once more, facing them all. His hands were all over the place. Exaggerated gestures that furthered his confused state. "What happened in that one week I was gone? Jeez."

"Hey." You made Peter focus his attention back towards you by grabbing him by the shoulders. By this time, the instrumentals on the karaoke machine were gone. "We get that you're really confused right now and you're tired so why don't you go and take a shower. The night is still young, Parker. I promise we'll tell you everything the second you come back here."

Of course, not everything.

The dead air whistled around, which you hated. He glanced at the group, who was waiting for a response. Their eyes were all on you and Peter. He finally let out a sigh, his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, it's just been kind of a long drive."

With that, Peter scurried towards the apartment to set down his bags and take a shower. He left a trace of awkwardness in the air once he left.

"Is it just me," Nat started as you walked towards the booth, "or did he grow taller? Did he go to, like, a magic place or something?" Everyone looked at her with knitted brows. "Jesus, I'm just lightening up the mood." She said, hands raised up.

You strode towards Sam, a rush of heat climbing its way towards your face. "Seriously? You had to call me that?"

Sam chuckled nervously, eyes flickering between you and his best friend. "I-it was just a joke! I didn't know he'd take it seriously. And helloooo," he said in a singsong voice, dragging the o, "I'm drunk."

"Being drunk isn't an excuse. It should never be." Bucky said, leaning against the booth. He stood with much authority which you found enticing. But you digressed. "You still shouldn't have said it."

"And besides," you chimed in, "Parker hates it when people give me nicknames."

"Alright. I am sorry." He said. His eyes examined you and Bucky. "But how do you think he's going to react when he finds out his favorite person in the world is calling his best friend babydoll in bed?"

You were dumbstruck. Like it was some kind of question in a trivia game you didn't know the answer to. You couldn't think straight hearing the fries grinding in Nat's teeth, probably enjoying the drama unfolding in front of her eyes, Steve's fingers tapping on the wooden table and Nick's fast breathing.

You took a deep breath, and tried hard to ignore all these annoying sounds.

Sam was right. If Peter's reaction to the nickname was already bad, what more if he knew about the truth between you and Bucky? How could he possibly react to it?

"Look." You said, approaching Bucky, and grabbing his pinky with yours. For comfort. "We're still not ready to tell him but we will."

"Yes, soon." Bucky agreed.

"We're just finding the right time."

The truth was, you weren't any close to finding the "the right time." You had been racking our brains since last night on when to tell him. After setting on the when, then you’d move to the next phase of the plan which was how. Now that Peter had come back, you knew you needed to think and act fast before he found out about you and Bucky from other people.

"In the meantime," you said, grabbing your phone and finding Marco's name on my contact list, "let's just enjoy this party as it is. Steve threw this party for a reason and we are going to enjoy it. With or without Peter. No blabbing or hinting — yes I'm talking about you, Sam — about me and Bucky. No nicknames, no references. Nothing."

"You're asking all of us to keep your dirty little secret?" Nick asked. "While we're all drunk?"

"You and Sam are." Bucky chimed in, grabbing their beer bottles. "Steve and Nat aren't so I'm keeping a close eye on you two." He turned towards you, faces close in proximity, and gave you the bottles to stow away. "No more drinks for those two idiots."

Youbnodded and took the beers away from Sam and Nick which earned yoy a couple glares. Nick pouted afterwards like a baby, eyeing the beer bottles in your hand. "No, Nick. I'm cutting you off."

"Take his, not mine!" Nick whined, tilting his head towards Sam. "I didn't blab. This idiot did."

"I don't like your tone, man." Sam argued, mimicking Nick's state.

"One more drink and you'll blab. And please stop acting like kids." you sighed, walking towards the counter, stowing the beer bottles in their cases. Ypunlooked on your phone once again, called Marco and ordered three large pizza boxes — pepperoni, meat, and cheese pizza. All of Peter's favorites.

By the time the phone call ended, Bucky approached you with soft, doe-like eyes. The group resumed singing, Sam and Nick once again hogging the machine, clearly not taking your advice. Sam kept yelling at him to "cut the check!"

"How're you feeling, doll?" He asked, going under the pass through.

"Well, it's now a surprise party." You heaved a sigh, turning around to find a drink with much more of a kick to get you through the night. Your eyes found an unopened bottle of vodka in one of the cabinets. You didn't hesitate to grab it, along with a dry vermouth and some olives.

Bucky's eyes were on you the whole time, watching you making yourself a mean martini. Ypundidn't care if Steve saw you just now. Right now, you needed this. Just one glass to calm your nerves.

Younstirred the liquid with the olives in a stick before downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"As hot as that was," Bucky said, referring to how you drank the martini and how younmade it, "that's your last drink for the night. I'm not letting you get drunk for the wrong reasons. Once was enough."

You set down the glass on the counter with a thud. You lifted your hazel eyes to meet his blue ones. "You're paying for this, by the way."

He chuckled. "I know. I'll take care of it."

You looked cautiously at the door, dreading Peter. Knowing he won't probably be here for another hour, you approached Bucky, discreetly grabbing his hand. It took you a moment to put your thoughts into words.

"James, if we tell Peter, we need to be... sure. Of this. Of us." youbwatched your fingers brush against him on the wooden table.

"We've talked about this, y/n. I am." He reassured, walking closer this time. "It's a big risk but it's one I'm willing to take."

The idea of you jumping into this together, jumping into it with caution gave you a big relief. But right now, it wasn't just an idea anymore. It was real.

It was real in the way he snaked his arm around your waist, in the way he pulled you into a soft, deep kiss, and in the way his lips lingered on your lips. You pulled away, your bodies still close. At that moment, it was just the two of you. Never mind the loud karaoke machine, or the faint noises of the traffic outside, or Sam's out of tune rhythm.

It was just the two of you. In your own little afterglow.

"You're a big risk I'm willing to take." He whispered the words so slow that they swirled around you, pulling you even closer.

"And you're mine too." you smiled.

Several minutes have passed since your little conversation. Nat had teased you and Bucky of being whipped for each other. Of course Sam joined, and then Nick who chanted a little song he made, which, for the life of you, you couldn't even remember. The rest didn’t understand a word he was singing other than the words "Bucky" and "y/n."

Steve, on the other hand, had been silently drinking his beer and eating the whole time. You once gave him an are-you-okay look and he just nodded in response, giving you that classic tight-lipped smile of his.

Bucky was seated beside you, your thighs grazing each other in the little booth. Even accidental touches brought you comfort.

And isn't that just the best damn thing?

Peter had come in after the little performance Nick just gave, thankful that he didn't walk right in the middle of it. Behind him was a staff of Marco's who delivered the pizza boxes. Everyone hurrah'd. You grabbed your wallet from your back pocket but Steve stopped you, handing some bills to the guy.

"Steve, I could've gotten it." You said after the pizza guy left.

He shook his head, setting down his beer on the table. "It's your party, kid. I'm not letting you pay a single cent."

Nat scoffed. "She made herself a drink just earlier. You should charge her for that."

"Woah, y/n drank? That's new." Peter chimed in, squeezing himself in the booth, sitting at the edge. Between you were Sam and Nick. "What else did I miss?"

And so, you told him everything — well, not everything. Only from when Steve fired you (him lying about how why he even came up with it which Peter bought), to Bucky convincing you to take the project collaboration with Sam, to finally agreeing to it, to the whole meeting that happened just three days prior, and to how you’ll proceed from there. Youndidn't know if Nat and Steve wanted to reveal their little thing to Peter so you kept your mouth shut. Not wanting to do to them what you didn't want done to you and Bucky.

"My god," Peter commented, "that really was a long week! I'm quite disappointed I missed all of that!"

Oh, Parker. If only you knew the whole truth.

In return, he gave the gist of the whole corporate retreat. He finally told you where he and the rest of his team went but it was some place you couldn't even pronounce. Some cabin by the lake far away from Manhattan. He didn't bore you too much with the details. All you knew was that they went fishing, hiking and camping in the wild while team building. Along with the stories were photos of him and the place they were staying.

You frowned thinking it would've been fun if he were with friends. Like you guys.

The whole time, Bucky held your hand under the table or rubbed your thighs discreetly so as to not draw much attention.

Nat was an exception. That redhead saw everything, smirking once in a while. You gave her a discreet look from time to time.

Peter congratulated you, toasting his pizza with yours. Thankfully, he didn't need to drink tonight ("No drinks for me tonight or for the next few days").

"Wow, you really came out there like a new man!" you chuckled. He laughed right back but for just a mere moment. His expression changed while taking a bite of his pizza. You began to be nervous as to why this kept happening. Younneeded to go to the toilet.

Getting out of the booth was a chore. Nat, Steve and Bucky had to get up before you could even stand up. Youndidn't get why you didn't just stick the little tables together to make a long one.

You were in the toilet for a little while, leaking everything that youndrank tonight. Your head felt a bit dizzy but younmanaged to stand up afterwards. The voices of your friends were inaudible against the wooden walls. Except Nick's booming laugh.

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by Steve who was standing still, waiting for the toilet to become unoccupied.

"Sorry." you apologized. "Was I too long?"

"No." He replied shortly. You tried to walk past him but he caught your arm. Younlooked at his hand, confused. "Are you sure about this Bucky guy?"

"What?"

"This whole thing with Bucky. You can't actually be serious about this."

Taken aback, you wiggled out of his grasp, successfully yanking your arm out. "And who are you to tell me that?"

"You just met this guy." He answered. You still felt his grip on your arm by his stern tone.

"Weren't you the one who kicked me out of this very bar just for me to go to the roof to meet with this guy that I just met?"

"I thought you would've ended whatever thing you had going with him."

You scoffed. "You're not my father, Steve. I know you have this weird father or brother thing you have with me but I'm an adult. I can take care of my damn self."

"What about that night you were insanely drunk?"

"That... that was a one-time thing. A mistake is what it is!" younhissed. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Y/n, listen — "

"No." you cut him off. "You listen. Just because you and Nat haven't figured out whatever the hell is going on with you two, doesn't mean you can shit on my relationship. Before you comment on my dating life, I suggest you fix yours first. I'm happy. Bucky's happy. We're both happy. Please mind your own business."

Before you could even go back to the group, Steve called your name. Youngroaned, turning around. "What now?"

He sighed. "You're really going at great lengths for Bucky. Keeping secrets from Parker and all that. Is it really worth it?"

You stood there. Silent. Trying to find your voice.

"Well, I'm about to find out." You replied, turning around, hopefully for the last time. "Later, Steve."

You went back to the group and continued to chat with them. Steve got back after a few moments. His streak of silence was broken when Nat revealed something none of you had ever known before.

"Did you guys know that Steve was a journalist before he became a bar owner?" Nat said, looking at Steve.

You raised your eyebrows, the pizza caught in mid-air. A curiosity sparke, pleased with the new information you had just acquired.

"Steve Rogers? A journalist?" Peter scoffed unbelievably, leaning back against the seat. "No way. No, I don't buy it."

"Me neither." Nick butted in. "He doesn't look like the type. Nuh-uh."

"It's true!" Nat argued. "Tell them, Steve. Come on!"

Steve forced a chuckle, avoiding all your waiting gazes. "Yeah, it's true. I was. I used to work for the New York magazine."

"Why'd you stop?" Bucky's voice surprised you. It was the first time you’ve actually heard him talk to Steve first, except that time when you first introduced them.

Steve's eyes met Bucky's. A strange atmosphere picked up. You couldn't quite point out why. "I was sticking my nose up where it didn't belong." He replied. "I got fired because of that. Boss said I was too... intuitive."

"Isn't that what journalists should be exactly?" You asked.

"Too much of something is bad too, I guess." He shrugged, retreating back his eyes.

"Huh." You said, observing Steve. Eyes stolid. Bearing no emotions at all. "Well, look who's good at keeping secrets. Steve Rogers."

He hummed. "We all got secrets."

And then Nick revealed a ridiculous secret ("I hate the bank! I don't have a bank account!") that lightened up the mood.

The night went on after that, Steve avoiding any questions you had about this past life of his. Nick had the most ridiculous questions followed by Peter. But the night had to end as well. Thankfully, it ended sober.

Leaving Steve, Nat and Nick behind, Bucky, you and Peter headed up the stairs, the elevator ride filled with deafening silence. One you very much loathed. Between Bucky and you was Peter. It was killing you not to touch Bucky.

Bucky left, merely dropping you off in your apartment. He told you he'd come by tomorrow morning to get his stuff that was still in Peter's room.

It killed you not being able to kiss Bucky good night, watching his back getting smaller and disappearing behind the elevator. Peter closed the door after that.

"Boy, I'm tired." You yawned, stretching your arms up. "I'm gonna go ahead. It's nice to have you back, Parker."

Before you could even go to your room and have a nice sleep, Peter called for your name. You lazily replied.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you do it, y/n?"

Confused, you turned around, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"The project with Sam." He said, walking towards you. His footsteps were heavy in each step. As heavy as his voice was becoming. "Bucky convinced you. Why'd you say yes?"

Trepidation filled your body. A kind of weakness you loathed. But you tried hard to stand on your ground, masking your anxiousness.

The noises outside the apartment, out on the streets mirrored the voices in your head.

"It was a big business opportunity." you found your voice. "A collaboration. And I didn't have much choice knowing that I was going to get fired."

But it seemed like Peter chose not to listen. "For years, I have been trying to get you to work with me. Years, y/n. Years." He sighed in exasperation. His eyes were bloodshot, tears badly wanting to escape. "Why couldn't you have said yes to me?"

His last words were so strong and sharp like a knife piercing right through your flesh, leaving you to bleed out in the open. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something, to say that you were sorry but unfortunately, no words came out. Peter breathed, releasing his strong gaze. "Good night, y/n."

He left you standing there in the middle of the room, realizing now that it would be harder to tell him about you and Bucky. Once you finally had the energy to carry your weight towards your room, you treaded towards it slowly and opened the door, only to be met by a soft knock on your window.

You nearly jumped at the sight outside the window.

"Jesus, Bucky!" you hissed, immediately closing the door behind. You opened the window and let him inside, closing it afterwards. "How did you get there?"

He was panting, trying to catch his breath. "Fire escape."

"It's freezing cold outside." you scolded, grabbing him your blanket and wrapping it around his huge figure.

"I know." he replied. "Maybe you can warm me up." A cheeky smile started to play on his lips as he approached you.

You giggled. "Bucky, not now."

"I'm sorry, doll. I just couldn't leave without a good night kiss."

My heart melted at his words. You placed your hand on his jaw and pecked his lips. He pulled you in closer. You smiled in the kiss.

"Neither can I."

You kissed a little bit more, a bit more passion this time, the window framing you perfectly in the nighttime.

You pulled away, feeling a bit guilty about Peter in his room.

"We need to talk, James." You said, breaking what was a lovely atmosphere. You’ve already had two confrontations today. What was another one?

You sat on the bed and patted the space beside you. Bucky frowned, sitting beside you. "What's wrong?"

"Peter's kind of upset with me accepting your offer to work with Sam." you went straight to the point. "He's been trying to get me to work with him in his company he works at ever since he got the job but I've always declined. And now, I think he's mad or even jealous that I said yes to you. God, you should've seen him, Buck. His eyes were so wide, and red. I've never seen him like that. It didn't look like Peter at all."

It took him quite a while before he spoke. "Do you regret taking up the offer?"

"What, heavens no!" You answered. "Bucky, this has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. You're one of them too, of course." You said, seeing his doe-like eyes once more. "I'm just getting a bit more scared now. What if there is no right time for us to tell him? What then?"

He clasped your hands with his large ones, making you stop your trembling. You didn't even notice your hands shaking until now. "There will be a right time, y/n. Right now, we just have to keep this our little secret for a while until we can tell him."

"What happens when he doesn't approve of this?" You started to ramble on once more. "Of us? What happens then?"

"Sweetheart, you don't know what's going to happen but we'll make it work."

You didn't respond. You just kept staring at your joined hands.

"I promise." He added.

You finally nodded, releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Okay."

"Now, if it's okay with you." He moved a little bit closer, kissing your cheek. "I can spend the night here." Another on the other. "With you." then on your lips.

"Peter's in the other room." you whispered in the kiss, amazed at how the mood changed so quickly.

"That's why I'm gonna need you to be quiet, babydoll."

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nonamenotitles · 4 years

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HELLO, IN THIS ESSAY I WILL TALK ABOUT RIDDLER AND DO A COMPARISION WITH A POP CULTURE BRAZILIAN CHARACTER AS WELL.

RIDDLER is a fascinating character. He can be portrayed as silly, or menancing. A gentleman with finesse and complex schemes or a completely mess who doesn’t really know what to do, but hey here’s 10 dolars for solving my riddle! Also Spandex! And Question Marks!

My Favorite Edward is the one from @askarkham. There’s lot of thing I like about him, but the one that resonates with me the most is this:

Ronnie, how dare you give me feels!

Because I’ve been there, my anxiety sometimes fills my head with so many things it’s overwhelming.

I am a lot better know with therapy and stuff.

But before treatment I too, soo many times, cried the same phrase.

That really touched me

Sooo

That’s why I’d like to talk about my fave villain who is very similar of another beloved character here in Brazil, who shaped every childhood here. (And I do get a little pride at showing my people’s comics, they’re great!)

A lot of other characters reminds me of the riddler. Like Wheatley!

@canadian-riddler made an wonderful analysis of the two characters.

I’ll poorly describe them: Polite and condescending, friendly enough until he get’s high advanced technology. Then he wants to put you through puzzles and puzzles and if you keep getting it right he will try to murder you with one of them.

But the character that reminds me of Riddler the most is:

Jimmy Five (English) Cebolinha (little onion) Cebola (onion) from Monica’s Gang/ Turma da Mônica

His main traits is his ingenuity, his five pointed hair and his dysdalia (pronounces R as L)

@drdeath did na wonderful analysis of Riddler and he’s motivations, and both these characters personality and motives matches a lot.

Cebolinha is a kid who gets in lot of trouble. He’s a very smart and clever kid, always bragging about he’s superior intellect, and creating “infallible plans” (who always fail) to defeat Mônica and earn the title of “owner of the street”.

Cebolinha also messes with Mônica to get her attention and for fun, calling her names ( he has a little crush on her, and in Turma da Mônica Jovem they’re dating) and he has almost a compulsive desire to knot the ears of her rabbit plushie.

Mônica’s main way to deal with the boys name calling is hitting them with her blue rabbit plushie (though the also gives them advice and uses other ways) which hurts a lot because she has super strengh!

Even though he has been beated numeours times Ceblinha never gives up. Believing he deserves the title of Owner of the Street, yet a lot of he’s plans fail because he understimates Monica’s own cleverness.

Despite everything the two kid’s consider themselves friends, and don’t hesitate to protect each other. We have a movie about the group of kids helping cebolinha to find his dog, floquinho.

A lhasa apso that for some reason is GREEN.

Turma da Mônica Jovem.

These comics are about the characters as teenagers. Cebola grew to be na expert with comouters, games and technology, he went to a professional and now only speaks L intstead os R when his nervous.

Batman notices it (but it’s another comic for another time)

Now he wants to take over the world to make it a better place.

He’s cleverness and plans saves his friends through the many and dangerous adventures they get themselves in.

Yet he’s been called out on his manipulations.

One of the earlie sagas was about the ID Mosters, the physical manifestations of the group worst traits and impulses.

They manifested because it’s in the teenager years that kids start to get more emotional changes, and start to be aware of their impuses and control them better than when as kids by developing their emotional intelligence.

Cebola’s mosters is a Liar and master manipulator who uses his charms and skills to get whatever he wants. And the kid had to deal with his shame and realise he is and can be a better person than in he was in the past.

Maybe Arkham should try the “fight the physical manifestation of your Id” it seems to work.

Important scene in the Saga.

Here Red Monica is Monica’s ID monster disguised. Humilliating Cebola. Later the Real Monica confronts him, thinking he’s sending fake messages to make her look bad. So he feels he’s being gaslighted.

THEN HE BEGS HER TO BEAT HIM.

C: Mônica...No... I will do anything...I

Cellphone*Sending to all contacts*

RM: Tomorrow you will make another sign, and will do my homework too! Or else... I will send your other love notes so everyone will laugh at you.

C: I thought that we...

I thought that...

I thought that you liked me!

RM: And I Like! I like when you do what I SAY!

M: CEBOLA!

Speak now! What nonsense is this!

Why are you saying such things about me. Did you decide to go back to the old plans?

Why are you lying,Cebola?

C: BEAT ME UP!

Go on, Mônica! Beat me up already! It was better when you beat me up!

C: Because being beated up by you doesn’t hurt s much...

As what you’ve being doing...

NOW! Of course emotional manipulation hurts more than being punched.

And what was the blackmail: Humilliation

Tying it with the Riddler: Edward surely feels that being beaten up by Batman hurts much less than the humiliation of being defeated. That’s also why he goes on and on with puzzles and plans even though if he fails he will physically hurt.

Because he’s already hurt! He already feels humilliated! And that’s the worst pain he’s ever endured and is still going on.

Back To the comics.

Later in the comics, He and Mônica confessed his feeling to each other, but Cebola explained he can only date her after defeating her.

He does get called out on it in later editions.

C: Mônica...I...

M: Why illusions of grandeur, Cebola? Why do you believe you need to be superior than me?

C: Superior? I don’t want to be above you, Mônica!

I want to be equal! Sice childhood you’ve been strong... confident...the leader...

While I always was the changing-letters kid who got beaten up at the end.

Okay, Edward Nigma wants to be above Batman. But most of the feelings is the same.

Eddy sees Batman as strong, and confident and a leader. While he’s the one who’s humiliated and beaten up.

C: You don’t realize it, right? You have no idea how hard it is to stand at your side...

Without feeling small.

I think I’m giving a little fuel to batriddle shippers... oh well.

As you can see, like Riddler, Cebola feels that he needs to prove himself, needs to prove he’s worth, to the point of delaying everything else in his life until heachieves it.

So my analysis is complete. BEHOLD!

HEADCANONS

I found a fic that I still wanna read called “Dinner at Wayne Mansion”, I get Riddler made the highest bidding in Bruce Wayne at the Bachelor Auction.

It reminded me of that comic where Eddie tried to trick Batman into dining with him.

I think this universe riddler would totally do the auction thing just to talk all night long with Bruce Wayne, and his projects and stuff. All happy and giddy. “Oh Bruce, how are the kids doing?”

Edward lowkeys wants Bruce Wayne to adopt him.

Come on DC! Give us na alternative universe where after his first crime and Batman finding out about he’s abusive household, Bruce decides “Okay I’m gonna raise this young man”.

Stephanie LOVES her Big Brother Eddie! He beat up her abusive dad (Cluemaster) and humilliated him with trivia knowledge and stuff.

I think one thing that should be explores is Riddler as na expert magician, he is a master escapist because he loves houdini, and magic employs cleverness and illusion.

He’s a geek for magic tricks.

He shows them to Harley and Jervis who look bright eyed and “Oooooooh”

Firefly asks if he knows fire tricks

He does and promplity shows off his skill.

Then John has to clean out the entire hideout because Edward fell for it and now Garfield knows there are flammable chemicals here.

Final Thought.

Well, there’s ANOTHER brazilian character that he reminds me of.

Visconde de Sabugosa (Viscount of Corncob) from The Yellow Woodpecker Farm

Ginger like lots of adaptations

Soul patch

Green tux

He’s main trait is his intelligence

differences

HE IS A LIVING DOLL MADE OF CORNCOB!

@jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear

@weyoun

@askarkham

@drdeath

@frommylack

@praprikat

#riddler #batman #turma da monica #monica's gang #turma da mônica jovem #tmj #cebolinha #brazil #brazilian comics #the yellow woodpecker farm #visconde de sabugosa #edward nigma #edward nygma

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anandsamir · 4 years

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★ ━ ( dev patel, male, he/him ) ━ ★ just to be clear, ya didn’t get this information from me. The person you’re lookin’ for is SAMIR ANAND. also known as SAM. Last I heard they were born on AUGUST 12, 1990 in SILVER CITY, NEW MEXICO, and they’ve been livin’ here in DOWNTOWN PORTLAND, for about THREE MONTHS. Word around the districts is, SAM can be CYNICAL, BLUNT, and FLAKY, but alls I seen is good things, like the fact that they’re CAREFREE, LOYAL, and QUIXOTIC, but guess that depends on how well ya know ‘em. The last thing ya need to know is that they work as a/an PÂTISSIER AT PETITE PROVENCE and I don’t know much about what that’s like but I do know that’s all I can tell ya the rest you gotta find out on ya, own.

howdy, howdy babes !! my name is naomi, i’m a 24 year old pisces who technically lives in pst but between animal crossing and just me being an overall sleep DEMON i keep the worst hours imaginable. if you prefer discord please don’t hesitate to just dm me, just give me some time to reply i promise its not you, its me mentally replying and then going to get a snack and uhoh its been 3 hours and now im nervous that i’ve made it terribly awkward. p.s. please be gentle with me, i haven’t rp’ed in a proper group in ages but all my friends are busy and this rp just happened to be at the top of the tags when i was searching so i thought it was fate.

TL;DR of my 3am frenzy writing ( ie the bio i submitted and thought yes this is good shit ):

samir is a leo sun, taurus moon, libra rising bad bitch.

just kidding, he’s just trying to piece his life back together after getting the shock of his life.

he was raised by parents who supported his creative endeavors and though he compared himself to his successful older sister, he found his own footing in the culinary world and flourished.

he worked tirelessly through both stages of chef and pastry but just as he thought he had it figured out his fiance(e) called off their engagement.

devastated he took the best/cheapest within reason flight back to america ( business because a 14 to 20 hour flight is no joke and its not like he has deposits to pay anymore aNYWAY )

since he’s been in portland he’s done everything and anything to keep busy when he’s not working.

so they could have met anywhere! or can meet soon :)

sam really needs a dog but if he can stop to pet your muse’s dog that’s just as good. he’s 100% the type to ask about any potential dog allergies and then make them homemade treats

connection ideas ??:

your muse stopped sam from petting fish in a park pond. he swears up and down that he wasn’t trying to steal them but he’s not sure if they believe him or not.

even though they live in vastly different neighborhoods, someone’s package got delivered to the wrong house and they delivered it to the right house. ( super open, he would do this even if your muse wouldn’t so don’t worry ^^ )

your muse knows that he misread a casting call that he thought was for personal security but was actually for a stripper cop and he had to apologize profusely his first week in portland

your muse heard samir tell his sister on the phone that batman wasn’t that great and your muse did nothing when he got hit by a bike for walking in the bike lane

actually, siri, alexa, and google home are wire taps you paid for conversations dead sober at any time is 100% appropriate

samir proudly said michelangelo for ‘who invented the light bulb’ at a pub trivia night and he’s never been back since

can i interest you in a drunken self debate on C vs F? the answer is temperature sucks and measuring sucks and you know what doesn’t suck? shooooooots

they are decent enough friends but your muse works up the courage to ask why he has so many odd frog trinkets and he has to awkwardly explain that instead of developing a palpable personality around his parents when he was a teen he just told them he like frogs so now they send him dumb stuff like froggie oven mitts and frog keychains and its just gone on for so long he actually does like them and please take one of the three frog umbrellas his mom sent him when he told her he moved to portland and she said, ‘hm, rainy’ and sent them with her next care package.

they travel similar routes around the same time and every day and the one day samir says to himself that he won’t have the backbone of a chocolate eclair the only thing that pops out of his mouth is ‘you dress like a cartoon character’ and he’s never emotionally recovered -- its logically a uniform but why is he like that

just nine mini ideas for luck, but i was just playing around we can brainstorm together or just throw them into some ridiculous situation and let what happens happens. i should be up around noon pst bc thats just the type of person i am lol.

#pb:intro #queue'd !! for dramatic effect

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sidecharacter965 · 4 years

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~Ruby Chandelle~

~The basics~

“I like capes!”

Name: Ruby Chandelle Kanji: ルービーションデル Age: 17 Birthday: 20th June (Gemini) Year: 2nd Year at Night Raven College Dorm: Pomfiore Species: Human Gender: Female Sexuality: Questioning, she kinda stays away from romantic relationships anyway

~Appearance~ “Hey hey! Look, I can do this spell!”

Height: 162cm, 5’3 Hair colour: Chocolate brown, worn in a low side bunch tied together with a red or purple ribbon Eye colour: Purple Skin Tone: Pale Piercings or tattoos: None Uniform: The Pomfiorre female uniform, blazer unbuttoned, a loose bow tie, knee length black socks and ankle length school boots.

~Personality~ “Why does everyone care so much about who you like? I have no idea who I am, let alone who I like!”

Positive Traits: Quick learner, free spirited, adaptable, energetic Negative Traits: Annoying, mischievous, sneaky, impulsive, attention-seeking

Ruby is one of the troublemakers of the school along with the ranks of Kalim, Ace and Lilia. She possesses the natural inclination to potions that most Pomfiore students possess, but prefers hexing over everything else. As a result, every Pomfiore student now has to check their products twice to make sure they haven’t been swapped or hexed. If Ruby respects the student, the hexing will only go so far. She doesn't want anyone she likes to think she’s a complete gremlin. Unfortunately for everyone else, there’s no telling how far she’ll go if she can get a good reaction out of them.

Backstory and relationships under the cut!

~Background~

“Hey! I’m not all bad! It was one hex after all!”

As a child, Ruby was raised by her helicopter noble parents. They made all of the decisions for her, and raised her to be “A well-rounded member of society”. Ruby didn’t like this at all, and would often find sneaky ways to defy her parents and their strict rules. Don’t like the dress? Don’t wear it until mother makes you, and then spill something on it! Ruby’s ability to defy rules and work her way around them became an integral part of her personality, something she could do with little effort or thinking.

Because Ruby was raised to be a “lady”, she had to sit inside and practice “feminene crafts” and “Proper manners”. Her stitches were huge and wonky, she always dropped her knitting needles. And not to mention she always put her elbows on the table. One day, Ruby’s tutor brought in a book about magic history in the hopes that she would take to it in one last ditch effort to actually teach her something. Absolutely loving it, she asked for more magic lessons. Unfortunately for Ruby, that meant “Bye bye Miss Tutor” whom she had just started warming up to. Her parents made rigorous plans to help get her into Night Raven College, the prestigious magic school. Ruby was very suspicious when her parents started helping her to get into the school, because they had always raised her with the intention that she would marry into a powerful family, minimal spells required. When she asked them about it, they would always reply with: “Never mind that, dear. Just focus on the spell.”

Ruby was sorted into the Pomfiore dorm, along with Rook Hunt, a boy in her year who would become one of her favourite victims for hexes. As expected from a Pomfiore student, she had a natural skill for potions. Her best subject however, was magic history. (It was the first thing taught to her by her magic tutor) Ruby couldn’t care less about physical activity or riding on a broom. (But the idea of flying still seemed pretty cool to her... But I didn’t say that!) So her worst grades aren't even things she’s bad at. They’re just things she doesn't put in the effort for because she doesn’t care.

Her fellow students see her as a mischievous student that you shouldn’t mess with. She does have a sort of moral code which sees her lightening the mood for anyone in any stressful situation. Ruby’s peak prank times are during exam time because of this. She has a wide knowledge of magic and her fellow students know this. Sometimes, they wonder if there's much more to her than she's letting on.

~Relationships~

~Family~

Mother: Ruby isn’t on the best terms with her mother but is thankful yet suspicious for her support in pursuing a career in magic. Ruby finds her compliance with her father annoying and wishes her mother would state her own opinions more often.

Father: Hate is too strong a word for how she feels about her father, but it’s not far from it. Ruby Is suspicious about his intentions for why he supports her “decision” to enroll in NRC.

~Dorm mates~

Vil: Ruby’s an annoyance to Vil. I mean, how can she not resist swapping out a few potions here and there? Her favourite ones to swap out are the hair products. Especially the hair dye. Poor Vil was sporting green locks for a good three days before he found a counterspell. He didn’t even attend school during that time.

Rook: Her most tormented victim. However, it never goes further than making his arrows miss the target or cursing him with a frizzy bedhead. They both have a kind of respect for each other. Besides, Ruby knows that Rook could never get angry at her “Pretty face”.

Epel: Ruby finds Epel a bit boring to play pranks on. He doesn’t outwardly react a lot of the time so she just stopped pranking him. She respects him for being calm and composed, unlike her impulsive self. There may be a little jealousy because of that.

~Friends~

Kalim: Ruby easily gets along with this happy-go-lucky student. They both like to have fun and Kalim causes chaos no matter if he means to or not. Also the rich parents- If it involves Ruby, it’s definitely intentional. She wonders how Kalim is able to create chaos no matter what he does.

Lilia: They’re both powerful in their own right and don’t really bother using their magic seriously. Lilia’s clever sense of humor and wit appeals to her. Prank buddies. And short people club

Ace: Kalim, Lilia and Ruby kind of brought him into the group. They always invite him to help prank students and are more than happy to help him plot more pranks against Riddle and Vil study. They “Recruited” him into the squad when he was bold enough to laugh after they put a hex on Riddle’s tarts. (They sprouted little legs and ran away)

Rook: Again, one of her most tormented victims. The two are more like frenemies, but they really respect each other deep down. Ruby just really needs to control her impulse to hex the arrows. Just one more time… It’ll be the last one. Honest.

Floyd: Same year, laidback individuals just looking for some fun. They met when the Leech brothers appeared to her in the hopes that they could rope her into a contract with Azul. Ruby refused and they left her. Later that day, they had a potions class together and got to pick their partners. Floyd made a beeline for her- asking if she still didn’t want to sign the contract- as a joke. One thing led to another and they became joke buddies. They don’t hang out as much due to their different schedules, but they always crack some kind of inside joke when they pass each other in the halls.

~Enemies~

Riddle: It was one hex. One hex for crying out loud. Now, Ruby’s permanently uninvited from any and all tea parties in Heartslabyul. What did she do? She hexed Riddles (Famous) tarts so they would sprout tiny legs and run away from the tea party. Ruby still owes Trey BIG TIME for getting her out of that mess.

Vil: Well it’s no surprise that Ruby gets on the perfectionist’s nerves. She’s lazy, and impulsive and she had the AUDACITY to replace his hair dye!!!

Jack: The dude just doesn’t have time for her antics and has threatened her on many accounts. She tends to stay away from Savannaclaw anyway because everyone there actually intimidates her. Apart from Ruggie, and that’s only because he’s a fellow member of the short people club.

Sebek: As a joke with the help of Lilia, Ruby organised a party for the whole school and “accidentally” didn't invite Malleus. Lilia took the brunt of his anger and Ruby just suffered a telling off from Sebek and Silver. She retaliated with smart alec replies. Long story short, Sebek low-key hates her now.

Jamil: He does not like the effect she is having on Kalim. There are frequent arguments between the two, but there's an unspoken rule that they never fight when Kalim is around. Gotta protec the cinnamon roll

~Trivia~

- Upon her acceptance into NRC, Ruby’s parents sent her off immediately in a carriage with a trunk full of clothes they had chosen for her. The trunk lies in her dorm cupboard, undisturbed since day one.

- Ruby never speaks of her parents unless specifically asked about them. Even then she disregards them. “They just helped me get here. I don’t really like ‘em.”

- Her favourite person to hex is Rook, and that is the only reason those arrows keep missing the targets in archery practice.

- Ruby’s favourite dessert is raspberry panna cotta, she has a real sweet tooth.

- Chandelle means “Candle” in french.

- She originally had two hair bunches instead of one, but I decided only having one would look sassier and add more interest to her design.

- Because of her helicopter parents, Ruby needs to feel in control of situations. It stems from the frustration and insecurities of never having any choices in her life. Hexing and pranking is one of the ways she does this.

- She experienced a lot of emotional neglect from her parents, so Ruby finds it hard to express herself emotionally. This is the reason she is impulsive and rather vocal.

- Secretly really insecure please give this child a hug she will appreciate it.

- She likes capes. Like, a lot. Also, long hair. Literally anything long and swishy. There is much dramatic cape action with this child.

Oof sorry for kind of being all over the place and really long-

I’m going to bed now...

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #Ruby Chandelle #seriously tho she loves capes #sorry I don't have much art of her yet #what do you think?

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nervydamned · 4 years

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i don’t usually cry anymore. the medication and the crushing numbness that comes with 31 years of hard living and dead ends has created in me a cold grey stone, typically invulnerable to all but tragic movies and commercials that were obviously designed with surgical precision to ensure that at least a small portion of viewers will immediately log onto the website and purchase, like, boat insurance while crying so hard they can’t do the capcha on the first try. i used to be a dramatic cryer, responding to almost any intense emotion with deep and gusty sobs. then 2016 happened. i lost my father. my spiral into alcoholism intensified my incredible appetite for self destruction. the shame that ensued formed that grey stone like a grit of sand forms in an oyster-- slowly, slowly-- until the day i told my sister that i wasn’t sure i would ever laugh again.

so i sought treatment. fresh from admitting to my husband that i had 1) secretly relapsed and 2) repeatedly been unfaithful with some of the worst people, i put my phone number into a “need rehab?” webform. i received a call about three minutes later. scared out of my mind, i would have agreed to do basically anything to clear the dark menacing cloud of divorce. they said they had a pool! i wanted to go swimming! i wanted to be instantly forgiven for my transgressions, and rehab seemed the best way to me to demonstrate that by god, i was SERIOUS about this recovery thing! he said the only rehab i qualified for was in south bend, indiana. they would buy the ticket. could i leave tomorrow? i guess i could.

i showed up to a building that looked like a 90s middle school with a smoking porch. terrified out of my mind and drunk on the four pints of heineken i’d slammed at chili’s with a sympathetic bartender at 7am across from my boarding gate, and disoriented from the klonopin that i took almost subconsciously at any sign of emotional turmoil, i was a rag doll with button eyes. i entered, stripped, spread, and coughed. i vomited in the toilet while a girl with perfect cat-eye liner did her best to discreetly look away. i was there-- it was happening-- but WHAT was happening? all i knew was that rehab was like a shiny gold star on my behavior chart. if i did it, nobody could say i hadn’t.

rehab is the best place in the world for a vulnerable drunk. i mean it! you’ve never had more shoulders to cry on. i remember hysterically sobbing until my heaving shoulders locked up and the only sound i could make was tiny clicks from my frozen throat. i’ve never had my shoulders patted so authentically. it never occurred to me at the time that this display of raw, scream-it-to-the-heavens emotion was such a part of their daily lives as intake detox counselors that they probably could have done it in their sleep. but somehow they remained authentic.

the funniest part about the rehab was that it turned out to be run and staffed by die-hard scientologists! i guess we can get into that later.

rehab also brought out my “daddy please be proud of me” personality in full force. i joined the “peer counsel” which was essentially just in charge of taking nightly attendance and clapping for sobriety milestones. i befriended everybody, impressing them with my uniquely pretentious affectation of sarcastic intellectualism that only fools people less smart than i am. i was the queen of rehab! life was good! everyone there had forgiven me. the next step was me forgiving myself. the final step was my husband forgiving me. at the time, i still thought that was a completely realistic goal. all i can say to that, ineloquently enough, is: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

my husband came to visit me, once, on the sunday after easter. having practiced healthy communication and effective use of boundaries six hours a day for the last three weeks, i promised him that we could talk about anything he wanted in the two hours he spent with me on the grounds. he got there and shrugged his shoulders over and over again. determined to make his long drive worth the time, i enthusiastically dragged him around to meet all of my rehab friends, proudly introducing him as my husband to anyone who would listen. that day, i believed we had a chance. that night, i found out he spent half the drive home texting my phone, which was locked in a drawer in the rehab office, accusing me of ignoring him in favor of my friends and strongly implying that i was sleeping with at least one of them. this delusion continued for months after and may still fester in his brain. i just wanted him to meet the people who were helping shape my recovery. he could never see the point of that. he didn’t understand that to me, connection is such a fundamental part of who i am that i HAD to make friends there. all he saw was the potential for pain.

i nakedly vied for the approval of everyone around me to the point that my rehab friends petitioned for me to win “patient of the week” at my graduation. when i realized what they had done i was simultaneously flattered to my core and mortified. how obvious it must have been that i set this artificial award ceremony in motion?

my husband was late. he missed the whole thing. in the car ride home, i chain smoked cigarettes and listened to his music. i talked about finding my rehab friend jacob on facebook so that we could attend meetings together since he was the only one who lived close by, and he accused me of having an extramarital relationship with him. his evidence was that “i brought him up all the time!” jacob came out as gay six months after we graduated from the program. we never got a chance to be friends.

my whole family was waiting at my sister’s house to welcome me home; they were babysitting my son while my husband drove to pick me up. they were so proud! again, i felt raw and abashed. just more confirmation that everyone knew--everyone knew--everyone knew everything. my husband had made my infidelity no secret with his family, and of course i had told my mother and my sister.

being the family fuckup is like being naked under a microscope. like living your life in the invasive, creepy bodyscanner at the airport. well-wishes come with a tinge of pity; there is a frantic and all-too-apparent urge to avoid any conversation that might bring up my past transgressions. i’m used to it because i’ve been a drug addict since 2008. but coming back from rehab was the worst. there’s nothing like seeing what the future could be like-- bright, beautiful, beatific. the feeling of stepping out of a confessional booth and feeling the light on your face, reflected through the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary and her son. but the comedown happens when you realize that the forgiveness you’ve given yourself stops with you. the crushing realization that your husband is either incapable of or unwilling to extend you the trust and forgiveness and freedom from shame that you’ve finally decided to give yourself makes you question everything.

i just don’t understand why he can’t admit that he doesn’t love me anymore. i’m glad i went to rehab. but now i know it wasn’t for him. i could give him anything in the world and i’d still be the adultress, the sly sociopath, the woman that enjoys torturing him with emotion and conflict. our relationship can’t ever work again and he won’t admit it because he’s scared to be alone. honestly, i’m starting to feel sorry for him. i know i could find some normie guy, one with an unkempt beard who makes that face-- you know that face! the nintendo switch face!-- in his twitter avi. he can quote every line from the office and he loves bar trivia, but makes sure to go to the bar and grab me a sparkling water before the beers arrive. he’s a bit boring, maybe not as smart as i am (or pretend to be), but he’s authentic, and he laughs at my jokes, and he always wants to know how my day went. he makes sure to find something thoughtful for christmas, and he sometimes goes out and gets my car detailed on the weekend because he knows how messy i am and how frantic it makes me when i have to face those messes. he has a group of friends who all like the same things he does and they hang out after work most tuesdays, but not when we have something to do at home.

but i know who i am and i know i am not fundamentally healed and i know i’d get bored and break his heart. and my husband would still be alone.

who even knows anymore? the status quo definitely has something going for it. i don’t have to apply for WIC or share a one bedroom apartment with my son or drive for Grubhub on the weekend to make sure i can afford peanut butter because that shit is expensive. we can sit, and sit, and then drift off to sleep and wake up in the same place that we were the day before. maybe i’m adapting to my husband’s sense that it’s better to just endure and stay quiet. i know that pattern because it’s how my family handled every bit of turmoil since i was a child. it’s never worked, but i guess it might someday!

this is my first blog post in 15 years. hopefully it won’t be my last.

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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644.

What would you honestly do if you had a million dollars? >> I honestly do not know, because that’s an utterly inconceivable amount of money to me and it’d probably stress me out. Even if we use it on a house and a new car and such-not, what happens after the million runs out? Maybe it seems stupid but if there’s one thing I’m leery of, it’s the allure of large sums of money and the insidious little mental changes that come with it. Do you pretend to be something you’re not to make friends? >> No, because I don’t want to be friends with people I feel like I have to lie to. When was the last time someone disappointed you? >> Sparrow threw out the extra slaw from last night’s dinner and I was disappointed because I’d planned on using it for a sandwich today. I honestly didn’t expect her to toss it, she knows I like slaw. Are you still in school? >> No. Where do you see yourself 10 years from now? >> I’ve got my hands full enough with this year, thanks.

Are you more of a shy or outgoing person? >> I am a reserved, distrustful, chronically lonely and chronically dissatisfied person who is sometimes in the mood to be friendly and sometimes in the mood to be a hermit. “Shy” or “outgoing” doesn’t really factor into it.

How many hours of sleep per night do you usually get? >> Anywhere from four to nine. There is no “usual”. Would you rather listen to new music or the classics? >> I’d rather listen to whatever I feel like listening to. Can you do a cartwheel? >> Yeah. What does friendship mean to you in your life? >> I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’d even want from a friend. There’s too much about me that is contrary to friendship. What is the closest yellow thing next to you? >> A candle. Do you currently feel any sadness? >> I feel a lot of sadness. Are you more of an athlete or artist? >> If it were a spectrum, I’d say I’m closer to “artist” than “athlete” because I hate athletics while art can be fun. Is it hard for you to break the ice with new people? >> It’s not difficult, per se; I’m just not always interested in doing it. Do you judge people by groups or by individuals? >> I prefer to judge people individually, but sometimes I use shortcuts (which is basically what stereotypes are). What do you think was the stupidest movie ever created? >> I don’t give a fuck, dude. Who is your hero and why? >> I don’t have one, because I’m not interested in heroes. If you could be someone else for a week, who would it be? >> I don’t want to be anyone else, no matter how horrible I feel about myself. I only know how to be me and I’m not interested in learning how to be someone else (who might be just as dissatisfying as being myself, or even more, so why go through all that effort?). What do you want people to remember you for when you die? >> I don’t give it much thought. Do you always respond to chain letters? >> I don’t get chain letters. Would you rather text someone or call them? Text unless we need to have an involved conversation. I hate typing long paragraphs with that tiny keyboard. I have no idea how people take surveys on their phone without throwing it across the room every five minutes. <-- (So basically, I prefer having my involved conversations on my computer, not my phone. Calling is still not an option.) What are you afraid of most? >> --- Do you spend too much time online? >> If I thought I was spending too much time online, I’d do something about it. Are you the type to procrastinate? >> I can be. What is your biggest annoyance? >> *shrugs irritably* Do you use any drugs? >> Aside from alcohol, no. Do you believe that you’ll always be a kid at heart? >> Hm. Are you currently in a relationship? >> I am in several relationships. What do you like to do for fun? >> Play video games. Do you have a job? >> No. Can you type without looking at the keyboard? >> Yeah. What is something you want to improve on this year? >> --- Do you have any pets? >> We have a cat. What is your dream car? >> --- How many times a day do you get angry? >> I usually only get angry when I’m depressed, and then I get angry at everything. (It’s that intensity-of-emotion thing -- if I’m feeling one kind of intense emotion, depression, then all the other emotions I feel are equally intense.) If you could, would you want to stay young forever? >> No. Being young hasn’t done me any favours. Aside from my body bouncing back relatively easily from all the stupid shit I did in my twenties, I guess. Are the books better or worse than the movies? >> This comparison bullshit is so pointless to me. In my opinion, a book and a movie might be telling the same story, but they tell them differently for a reason. You can like both, or you can like one or the other, or hell, you can like neither one. Don’t see why it has to be any more complicated than that unless you’re literally the author of the book or something. Are you afraid of the dark? >> No. If you could eat any food you want right now, what would it be? >> I don’t want to eat right now. Are you a racist person? >> I assume not. Do you ever feel like people use you? >> Yeah. Do you keep in contact with your friends during the summer? >> --- What is your favorite month of the year? >> October or December, I guess. Does bad grammar get on your nerves? >> No. People who complain about “bad” grammar get on my nerves. If you were going to die right now, what would your last words be? >> *shrug* Ain’t nobody even here to listen to them except for the Inworlders, so...??? Does Jeapordy make you feel dumb? >> No. Random trivia isn’t a strength of mine, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. What is/was your worst subject in school? >> --- Are you a sarcastic person? >> I can be. What role does religion play in your life? >> *shrug* Can you sleep with your eyes open? >> No, but I knew someone who did when I was young and that shit was wild.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

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Oh can you do a boxing fic? Please! I can picture a sweaty Killian boxing and showing off for his girl and a bunch of pre and post boxing celebratory kisses?!

HELLO ANON, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR WEEKS AND I AM SORRY FOR THAT. AS REPAYMENT, HERE ARE QUITE A NUMBER OF WORDS WHERE EMMA AND KILLIAN’S FRIENDS TOTALLY WANT EMMA AND KILLIAN TO DATE, BUT EMMA AND KILLIAN CAN’T BELIEVE THEIR FRIENDS HAVEN’T NOTICED THEY ALREADY ARE. JUST LIKE...WITH BOXING.

Also on Ao3 because this also got pretty long. I don’t know, guys.

The hospital lights are giving her a headache.

They’re bright and abrasive and everything smells like disinfectant, which, honestly Emma figures is probably a good sign regarding the cleanliness of this hospital, but she’s far too worried about everything else to be worried about that.

She’s not even sure if she’s supposed to be worried about that.

This was not part of the plan.

At all.

There was no plan.

At all.

“We should be back there,” David hisses, not for the first time and it’s an absolutely horrible attempt at keeping his voice down.

Emma licks her lips, ignoring Mary Margaret’s furtive glances. Mary Margaret keeps glancing at her. Emma’s tongue is going to dry out.

That’s the single worst thing she’s ever thought.

“We can’t get back there yet,” Ariel says reasonably, slumped in one of the waiting room chairs with her legs stretched out in front of her. She mutters a rather pointed curse under her breath when Will nearly trips over her feet. “Well, watch where you’re going then.”

“I didn’t actually say anything,” Will points out. “And the Detective is right. We should—“

“—We can’t. You know that. David knows that. They’re doing tests or making sure he’s not concussed or whatever.”

“He’s definitely concussed,” David mumbles, and Emma’s stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch. Mary Margaret is still staring at her.

Ariel, somehow, slumps even further down. It ends with her kicking Will in the the ankle, a growl on his lips and he’s a blur of movement and Jones-branded clothing, ducking down to grab her legs and swing them over his when he sits down. “Don’t move,” he commands, but the words ring a little hollow when it’s clear how worried he is.

It’s definitely a concussion. At best. Or worst. Emma has lost her grip on the English language.

Ariel sticks her tongue out. “Do you think we should call someone?”

“Like who?”

“Everyone he knows is here,” David chuckles, drifting closer to Mary Margaret like there are magnets involved. Or love. Definitely love. “It’s—well, if we were he's emergency contact, we would have gotten called already. Right?”

Will shrugs. “He’s been in there for awhile.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Emma hasn’t really been paying attention, far too preoccupied with the less-than-encouraging placement of her stomach in regards to the rest of her internal organs and how much she absolutely hates the lighting in that hospital, wondering if her worry is too big or too meaningful, and she’s so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost doesn’t notice her phone ringing in her pocket.

It doesn’t matter. Her friends do. Loudly.

“Em,” Mary Margaret says, nodding towards the buzz lingering around Emma’s right thigh. “You’re…your phone is ringing.”

She must nod. She’s sure she nods. She hopes she nods. She does, at least, tug her phone out of her pocket, arm heavy when she pulls the stupid, still-ringing piece of technology to her ear and Emma’s voice scratches its way out of her throat.

It’s more abrasive than the hospital lighting.

“Hello?”

Her voice shakes. It’s the worst.

“Emma Swan?”

“Yuh huh.”

“This is Belle French from NYC Health and Hospitals in Coney Island. I’m calling because Killian Jones listed you as his emergency contact. Unfortunately I have to tell you that Mr. Jones has been admitted here after sustaining some injuries during his fight and—“

“—Is he concussed?” Emma interrupts, well aware of the four sets of matching and equally wide eyes that stare at her. Ariel curses when Will grips her legs too tightly.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that over the phone, but if you’d be able to—“

“—I’m here.” Emma should stop interrupting Belle French. It’s rude. “Um, sorry. I’m just—well, I’m standing in the waiting room. Currently.”

“Oh,” Belle says, a note of genuine surprise there and Emma can’t blame her. It’s reflected on each of her friend’s faces as well. “Well, that’s…efficient.”

“Yeah, that’s me for sure. Does this mean I can come back there?”

“Can we go back there?” Will asks sharply, Emma waving him off.

Belle makes a noise on the other end of the phone. “Give us a few more moments. The doctor is still with Mr. Jones, but I’m sure he’ll want to see you soon.”

“The doctor?”

“Mr. Jones. He’s been asking for you.”

Emma’s stomach flies into her throat. “Ok,” she says, quieter than she wants and more emotional than she probably should be, but the punch had landed and she’d definitely gasped and—“Ok,” she repeats. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.”

The phone feels impossibly heavy in Emma’s hand, weighing her down and somehow making her head ache even more. They’re all still looking at her. Mary Margaret’s shoes squeak when she takes a step forward.

It was raining out.

Figures.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says, stretching her name out into an impossibly long string of syllables. “What’s going on?”

“Ariel, listen, I don’t care how much you think we’ll get along, I don’t want—“

“—I have no idea if you’re actually going to get along. I’m cautiously optimistic and I just think it could be interesting.”

Emma glares, eyes thin enough that it’s difficult to make out the self-satisfied smile on Ariel’s face. “I’m not interested in being your science experiment either.”

“That’s not what this is,” Mary Margaret promises, but that’s exactly what it is because this is far from the first time something like this has happened.

“Gimme that.” Emma leans forward, grabbing whatever it was Mary Margaret had been drinking and the alcohol stings the back of her throat. “What is this guy’s name? And, like, his life story?”

“I promise it’s far more interesting than you’re expecting.”

Emma spins on the spot – nearly falling off the stool in the process and her eyes widen. He grins at her.

That’s the first thing she notices.

It’s calm and easy, a quiet sense of self confidence that’s attractive and a little disarming and he steps into her space almost immediately.

She doesn’t move. That may be a first.

“That so?” Emma asks, doing her best to stay casual when it feels like her heart is about to beat its way out of her chest.

The smile widens. And his hair drifts towards his brows when he nods. “Decidedly.”

“Huh.”

“That’s not quite the rapt audience I was hoping for.”

Emma chuckles, downing the rest of a drink that isn’t hers. “I guess you’re just going to have to win me over or something.”

He does – although she certainly makes him work for it. His name is Killian Jones, freshly moved to New York a few weeks earlier. He’s a boxer.

“Is that still allowed?” Emma asks, drifting towards the edge of her stool. She keeps doing that, flinching when she realizes she’s about to fall over again, and she’s got a sneaky suspicion it’s because she’s trying to get closer to Killian, but that’s a great, big thought in a great, big moment and Ariel is going to be insufferable if she realizes this set-up worked.

It might have worked.

Definitely.

“Otherwise this has been a very long con,” Killian drawls over the top of his own glass. “That would be disappointing after I signed a lease.”

“A full year?” He hums. “Yeah, I doubt you could get out of that.”

“Exactly. And why fight that when I’m so interested in several other fights?”

“That was funny.”

Killian beams. “It happens from time to time. And what do you do, Swan?”

She tells him – NYPD with David, some childhood dream of doing good and “to serve and protect, right?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrows that seems to almost immediately brand itself on every inch of her brain. It’s how she met Mary Margaret and, by extension, Ariel, both teachers at the same public school and they’re a group and maybe a family and he tells her things right back.

He’s been fighting for years, “stumbled into it by accident, honestly” after joining the Navy at eighteen and “New York’s always been the goal, or so my manager will tell you.”

His manager’s name is Will Scarlet. He lives in the same building with the year-long lease.

They talk. They drink. They get irrationally competitive about trivia at the bar.

“That is just fundamentally wrong,” Emma shouts, leaning across the table they’ve commandeered in the corner. "Midichlorians aren’t an actual energy field!”

Killian shakes his head. “The Force is an energy field. Obi-Wan says so!”

“Oh my God,” Ariel grumbles, dropping her head onto her forearms like this is embarrassing. It kind of is. People are murmuring.

“Midichlorians are inside humans,” Emma argues. She doesn’t remember standing up. And Killian’s whatever, it’s a smirk, it’s totally a smirk, is very distracting. “That’s how they measure it in Anakin.”

“Are you counting the Phantom Menace as canon?”

“How are you not?”

“Because that’s just fundamentally wrong, Swan.”

“It’s a movie! It’s part of the lore!”

“Are we still talking about this one trivia question?” Mary Margaret asks, making a face when both Emma and Killian snap yes in tandem.

Killian’s mouth twists, which only proves how much Emma is staring at his mouth. “The existence of midichlorians directly contradictions the explanation of the Force in the original trilogy,” he grumbles. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You sound like an internet fan boy,” Emma accuses. “And that was not the question. The question was just ‘what are midichlorians.’ The answer is human cells in a human person—“

“—What about Jedi that aren’t humans? Are you suggesting Yoda is secretly a human?”

“Oh my God.”

The smirk is back. And they’ve officially run out of time to answer the question.

“You guys are banned from trivia,” David announces, hours later after more vaguely petty arguments and far too much alcohol when Emma has to be at the station at ten tomorrow morning.

She rolls her eyes. “Somehow I think I’ll survive.”

“Yeah, tell me that when you’re upset at missing out on our inevitable glory next week.”

Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat, shrugging into her jacket and Killian’s lingering in her space, that same quiet presence that’s laced with a hint of something she hopes matches up with hers.

“You want to get some coffee or something?” he asks, as soon as everyone else is out of range.

“Yeah, ok.”

She’s nearly twenty minutes late to her shift the next day, the ends of her hair still damp from a shower that isn’t hers and David smiles as soon she drops into her chair.

***

They have every intention of telling their friends. Really. They do.

It just…never comes up.

And both Ariel and Mary Margaret are already in mourning for another set-up that “clearly didn’t work” as soon as Emma walks into the coffee place two blocks away from school.

“I really thought you guys would hit it off,” Ariel shrugs, tugging apart a croissant with a bit more force than necessary. “I didn’t factor in your mutual nerd’ness.”

Emma arches an eyebrow. “Is that an insult?”

“Didn’t it sound that way?”

“She means she thought you would have been able to bond over that, instead of argue over it,” Mary Margaret corrects.

Ariel shakes her head. “No, I did not.”

“I know you didn’t,” Emma promises. There’s not enough sugar in her coffee. “I should probably be more offended by that, right?”

Ariels shrugs again. “Depends on what you say to this, I guess.”

“This being?”

Her phone dings. She typed her number in his phone herself. After he made her breakfast.

He made her breakfast.

“How often Killian will probably be around,” Ariel continues, eyes flitting nervously towards Mary Margaret.

The word ewok was never actually said in the original trilogy.

I think that’s a lie.

Nope, not once. Only in the credits.

I really don’t believe you at all.

Well, that’s disheartening, but it just means one thing.

Which is?

We’ve got to watch the original trilogy now. And you can tell me how much more I know about the Star Wars universe than you do.

Emma nearly spits out her coffee. Ariel’s breath catches, which kind of makes Emma feel guilty, but her friends area also making assumptions and setting her up and—

Her phone makes more noise

What do you say, Swan? Is it a date?

“Em,” Ariel prompts. “Is that—I mean, he doesn’t really know anyone else and he’s got a fight in a couple of weeks. I know, well, he isn’t normal and some sci-fi know-it-all…”

“It’s fine” Emma promises. “And technically Star Wars is really more epic fantasy, just set in space. So, you know…”

Yeah. It’s a date.

***

“That is distracting.”

“Hmm, that might be the point.”

Killian doesn’t look away from the tablet in his hand, film he’s supposed to be watching in prep for tomorrow’s bought. Emma’s pretty sure that’s the technical term. She’s learned some of the technical terms.

“Might be?” he echoes. He shifts when she drags her lips across the curve of his jaw, tracing a line of stubble that regularly and consistently distracts her when she thinks about it too much.

“Pleading the fifth.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, love.”

It’s not the first time he’s called her that – it’s a thing, she’s come to realize, like watching film of some boxer from Alabama he’s totally going to knock out tomorrow night – but it never fails to make her pulse beat a little more erratically than usual. It’s nice. It’s good. It’s great, even.

It’s still a goddamn secret.

“Should he be jumping around that much?” Emma asks, nodding at the fighter on the screen when he dodges an uppercut.

“He’s not jumping, Swan. He’s making a move.”

“And the move is?”

“To not get hit.”

“Seems kind of strange in a sport so devoted to hitting.”

Killian laughs, tugging her closer to his side until Emma doesn’t have any choice except to swing her legs over his. Or so she tells herself. They should tell someone. Eventually.

It’s kind of become something of a game though, wondering how long it will take their friends to realize that Emma and Killian keep spending the majority of their free time together.

“Boxing is not devoted to hitting,” Killian argues. He’s moving his hand again, fingers drawing absent-minded patterns across Emma’s back and in between her shoulder blades, carding through the ends of her hair.

“I really don’t know if you’re doing it right then.”

“That’s not what I said at all. I’m going to try and hit Chafur tomorrow, but it’s a lot more than brute strength.”

“So says you.”

“It is,” Killian promises, but his voice gets a little strained and decidedly distracted and it might have to do with whatever Emma’s doing just behind his right ear. “Swan, I can’t think when you do that.”

“That is the point. How many rounds you think you’re going to go?”

“No more than five.”

She lets out a low whistle. “That’s awfully confident.”

“You watching this guy? His whole game is to dodge. No attack in him at all.”

“And you think you’re going to do that? Attack?”

Killian nods, brushing a kiss to the top of her hair. “Several very impressive newspaper articles would inform you that I tend to do that quite often in the ring.”

“Newspapers are a dying industry.”

It gets him to laugh again. “Fair,” he agrees. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m going in with a plan, love. I’m going to—“

“—Attack?”

She leans back, only a little frustrated because she’s more than a little worried and they might not have told anyone, but Killian has done a fairly admirable job of working his way into the very center of her life very quickly.

A well-calculated attack. But with less punches. And more…kisses. And not really the word attack.

So, nothing like that at all.

“Mary Margaret texted me today,” Killian says, not at all what Emma expects. She blinks. “She’s uh—she asked if she could get another comp ticket to the match.”

“Is it match or bought?”

“Interchangeable. You don’t want to know why?”

Emma shakes her head. Because she knows why. “Is she a teacher too?”

“Yeah,” Killian nods. “Her name’s Aurora. And she’s very nice. And apparently likes to wear cardigans to school. And Mary Margaret thinks it’d be a good step to—“

“—To?”

“Not be hung up on you so much anymore.”

Emma’s jaw drops. She expected that even less. Killian’s whole body shakes when he laughs, a quick kiss pressed to her cheek and another to the edge of her mouth. “Are you?” she asks, barely able to get the words out before Killian finally lands on her actual mouth and she hopes they don’t ruin the tablet.

That would annoy Will.

“Hung up on you?”

Emma makes a noise, not quite the confident, vaguely-flirty one she wanted, but it gets Killian to smile and his eyes to do that flashy thing they do when he stares at her a very particular way and if this is an attack, she’s more than willing to lower her fortifications or however the metaphor should work. Something about blocking, she’s sure.

“Absolutely,” Killian says, but it’s drifting closer to a growl and they don’t watch much more of the film.

***

Aurora is nice. And perceptive. Incredibly perceptive.

It only takes one gasp out of Emma in the third round for her to realize.

“Are you dating him?”

Emma’s eyes bug. That’s kind of an answer. It’s definitely an answer. “Yeah,” she breathes. “For, like…weeks.”

“And your friends don’t know that?”

“Yeah I’m not really sure how that happened.”

Aurora scoffs, but it almost sounds amused. “I’m actually kind of glad. He didn’t seem very interested in saying many things to me before he—what would you call it? Get on stage?”

“In the ring.”

“Ah, see you know.”

Emma’s stomach flips. And flops. “Yeah, I do.”

He wins in four rounds, arm flung into the air by a referee and there’s a smile on his face when his eyes scan the crowd. Aurora laughs again.

And Killian winks as soon as his gaze lands on Emma.

She waits until their friends have moved – Mary Margaret apologizing to Aurora because this set-up didn’t work either – taking a step into Killian’s space. He hasn’t actually put a shirt on yet, a belt hanging over his shoulder.

“You want to make fun of Phantom Menace with me later?”

He barks out a laugh, smile wide and bright and Emma nearly yelps when he all but yanks her against his chest, kissing her hard and heady and it’s so goddamn right, she can’t believe they haven’t shouted it from several rooftops yet.

The Empire State Building was, like, built for feelings like this.

“I’d love that,” Killian says against her mouth. “Give me some to talk to that dying industry, ok?”

“Yeah, ok.”

They barely make it past Naboo before they’re kissing on his couch and taking clothes off and Emma smiles when she pads into the bathroom hours later to find bottles of her shampoo sitting in the shower.

She doesn’t go home that night.

***

“Emma has a boyfriend.”

Several people nearly choke on several different types of alcohol and Ruby looks especially smug at the table that should probably have their name on it now. It’s trivia night.

Emma and Killian have already argued about Harry Potter on three different occasions.

“What?” David balks, gaping at Emma like she’s a totally different person. “Since when?”

Ruby shrugs. “For awhile now, I think.”

“You think,” Emma says. It takes everything in her to keep her voice steady, Killian’s hand drifting over her thigh under the table.

“You’ve been spending less and less time at home. You’re never around. I’m not a cop, but I think I can put two and two together.”

“But Emma doesn’t know anyone,” Mary Margaret objects, mouth dropping when she realizes what she’s said. Killian squeezes Emma’s thigh. “Ok, that’s not what I meant,” Mary Margaret continues. “I just—“

“What’s his name?” Ariel cuts in. “It’s a he, right?”

Emma nods. Killian’s fingers are tapping out a rhythm against her leg now.

“Is it serious?” David presses. “You wouldn’t stay at some guy’s apartment if it wasn’t serious.”

Emma’s pulse speeds up. Or maybe slows down. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel very human.

“Looks serious,” Will mumbles over the top of his glass. His eyes flit towards Killian, like he’s waiting for the inevitable breakdown. There’s nothing.

“I don’t know,” Ariel objects. “If it were serious, we’d—“

“It’s serious,” Emma says, quick and far too loud and Killian’s hand tightens to a vice-like grip. “It, well—it could be serious. I think.”

He doesn’t move his hand.

“So, uh,” Emma sputters. “I’m going to get some air.”

She doesn’t run out of the bar – which is a metaphorical TKO on the very first punch, but it’s pretty damn close, warmer-than-usual air greeting her on Chambers Street. And she doesn’t want to hope he’ll follow her, but she’s drifting dangerously close to living in hope and he’s got a title defense in a couple of days.

The door slams behind him.

“Serious, huh?” Killian asks, half a smirk and his tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth.

Emma shrugs. “I mean—you bought shampoo.”

“It smells good.”

“Is that weird?”

“That I think your shampoo smells good or that I’d like you to continue smelling good around me for the foreseeable future?”

“Either or.”

“Eh, maybe a little bit of both.” His hands land on her hips when he takes a step forward, close enough that it takes some twisting for Emma to rest her palms on his chest. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I have no idea how they haven’t already. Have we been too subtle?”

“We could start making out in this alley and see if that sticks?”

Emma’s laugh barely has a chance to linger in the air before she’s pushing up on her toes, arms slung around Killian’s neck and that tongue thing he does is almost as potent as his left hook.

“It’s serious,” he whispers, and Emma files that away, covets the words like her own championship belt. And that’s only kind of absurd, but they’ve been secretly dating without even trying and the whole thing is absolutely ridiculous.

“You want to get out of here?”

“Very much so.”

She doesn’t go home that night either.

***

“You’ll be careful, right?”

It’s still early – sun just creeping in through the curtains in Killian’s room, but he’s got a full day of press and pre-match workouts and it takes forever to get from Manhattan to Coney Island in the summer.

“As careful as I can be when someone’s trying to punch me in the face.”

“I thought it was about more than just punching,” Emma says, propping her head on her hand.

Killian grins, flipping his head which only serves to make his hair shift and that’s hardly playing fair at all. “I’m not sure this guy has gotten that particular memo yet, love. Everything Scarlet’s shown me makes it seem like he goes for the kidneys a lot.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh,” Killian says again. “It’ll be fine, Swan. I’ve just got to get to him first.”

“Easy.”

“Well, you’ll be there right? Got to impress.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but they both know he’s right. He’s constantly trying to impress. And she consistently is. “Idiot,” she mumbles anyway, flopping back against his chest when he pulls on her arm. “With ridiculous brute strength.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely my calling card. Heavy-weight champion of the world.”

“In this corner…”

“Getting ready to make out with his girlfriend…”

“Just make out?”

He definitely growls. It’s stupid how attractive it is.

And it’s even more stupid how loudly Emma gasps as soon as the first hit lands – straight to the side of his head and it’s not the kidney punch Will had promised. It’s aggressive and maybe a little evil, quick jabs that land every single time until Killian’s stumbling backwards and the referee is calling for both fighters to return to their corners.

They don’t.

The hits keep coming and landing, each one louder than the last, but that may just be Emma’s pulse pounding in between her ears. Her eyes go dry from staring, breathing turning ragged as she tries to remember how important oxygen is to maintain consciousness.

Killian’s steps falter again, doing his best to keep his hands lifted by his ears. It doesn’t work. The guy Emma can’t remember the name of keeps swinging and hitting and the bell rings as soon as Killian’s knees crash onto the ring floor.

She gasps again.

And David curses. Loudly. Mary Margaret might be crying. Ariel is screaming.

“C’mon,” David says, wrapping his fingers around Emma’s and tugging her towards the hallway they left before the spot, reserved for friends and family. She assumes secret girlfriends aren’t included in that.

She doesn’t stumble when she starts to walk.

***

“Em,” Will says, still sitting in chairs that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Who was that?”

Emma swallows before she answers. “The nurse. Belle French.”

“Was her name important?”

“I mean—probably not, but—“

“Ms. Swan?”

She spins on the spot, nearly taking out David in the process and she hadn’t realized he’d moved towards her at some point. The doctor smiles what she assumes is supposed to be a comforting look. “Hi,” Emma mutters. “I’m uh—well, you know who I am.”

The doctor keeps smiling. “I do. And Mr. Jones is out of testing.”

“Is he ok?”

“Concussed, but awake and cognizant and, uh, asking about you. Again.”

Emma’s heart swells. That’s gross. “Can I see him?”

“Can we see him?” Will corrects, hissing when Ariel pinches his side. The doctor nods.

“For a few minutes at least. We’re you planning on staying for some time, Ms. Swan?”

The room is spinning, lights absolutely getting brighter, but Emma feels herself nod again and there wasn’t much of a decision to be made. “Yeah. I’m—I’m not going anyway.”

"Good. Mr. Jones is at the end of the hall.”

She doesn’t run, again, but it’s close, again, feet moving as quickly as her heart and the pounding in her forehead. He’s in bed when she skids to a stop, far too many wires and beeping machines, but his eyes find hers almost immediately and Emma sighs.

Again.

It’s relief that time.

Killian smiles at her. "Not quite my most impressive moment, huh?"

"Ah, I don't know about that."

"Did I fall gracefully?"

"God, I hate you," Emma grumbles, a lie that's worse than anything they haven't told their friends. Killian's lips twitch. "A nurse called me to tell me that you were here. Because I'm your emergency contact."

"Yeah. They, uh—well..." He doesn't finish the thought, doesn't really have to, and Emma's smile feels equal parts unnatural and as normal as breathing. She's only recently just started breathing. “You ok?”

“You’re asking me that?”

“Eh,” Killian shrugs, shifting his arm so he can curl a finger towards her. Emma scowls. “It happened very quickly for me. One knock and it was all over.”

“Yeah, that’s not how I remember it at all.”

“C’mere, love.”

“You’re concussed.”

“Am I? No one’s actually told me that.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs, but it’s not frustration, it’s unspoken everything and the smell of her own shampoo when her hair falls over her shoulder, and taking these few steps forward isn’t much of a decision either.

And, honestly, it’s a miracle no one figured it out before.

So, naturally, the whole lot of them stop in the doorway as soon as Emma sinks onto the edge of Killian’s hospital bed, letting his arm wrap around her when she tilts her head up. To kiss her. With witnesses.

“What the hell is this?” Will shouts, and Ariel’s words are more just general screeching. They’re going to get yelled at by the hospital staff.

Maybe for the kissing.

It can’t be good for Killian’s blood pressure or whatever.

Mary Margaret may still be crying.

“Oh my God, Ruby is going to be so mad she missed this,” David mumbles, working a laugh out of Killian and something resembling a guffaw out of Emma.

“That’s only because you owe her twenty bucks now,” Will says. Emma makes that noise again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Ok, don’t act offended, you guys were lying to us this whole time. Hey, Hook, glad you’re not dead.”

“He was way more worried than he's acting,” Ariel promises. "It's a defense mechanism."

“Well, I’m also glad I’m not dead, so we’re kind of on even ground,” Killian says. He kisses Emma’s cheek when she turns on him. Mary Margaret definitely sniffles. “And it wasn’t really lying.”

“How you figure?” David asks.

“You guys all thought I was hung up on Emma and, you know, you weren’t really wrong.”

Ariel throws her whole head back when she laughs, leaning back against Will’s chest so she doesn’t fall over. He hooks his chin over her shoulder, studying both Emma and Killian critically.

“Emma said she was dating someone who might have been serious.”

“That kind of sounds like an accusation,” Emma points out.

“It kind of was.”

“Well, it kind of might be.”

“Is,” Killian corrects softly, another kiss that makes Emma shiver slightly.

Mary Margaret wipes her hand under her eye. “Is? As in currently.”

“Yeah,” Emma whispers. She moves again, twisting so her legs on the bed are pressed up against Killian’s and there’s always shampoo in the shower. “Currently.”

“But you didn’t say anything!”

“Trust me, it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“And then it got to be so long it almost would have been weirder if we brought it up,” Killian says. “It was more fun just seeing how long it would take you guys to realize.”

“We weren’t really being secretive about it,” Emma adds. “Trust me, Ruby’s been going on about it for weeks. I haven’t been trying to hide that I’m pretty all in on this.”

She doesn’t mean to say it. But, then again, she didn’t mean to be in a secret relationship for the last four months and she certainly didn’t mean for her friends to find out about said relationship this particular way, so, really, this should not be much of a surprise.

Killian’s incredibly tense body suggests otherwise.

“Swan,” he mutters, Emma’s teeth digging into her lower lip.

She turns slowly, jutting her chin out in something almost close to relationship defiance. But then she sees the look on his face – that same quiet hope from the very first time she saw him mixed with a hint of the hope she’s been clinging to for months and how much she wants and—

“I love you,” she says, before she can lose her nerve. Mary Margaret sniffles again. “Just—I do. And it’s been easy to and simple too, which, is the exact opposite of anything I ever expected from an Ariel and Mary Margaret set-up, but…” Emma exhales. Killian doesn’t blink. “I was so worried about you.”

He doesn’t move away from her when he lifts his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheek and there are tears that. That should probably be embarrassing. It’s kind of nice.

And, honestly, she expects the kiss. Is ready for it. Wants it. Quite possibly needs it. But it still manages to make Emma’s stomach twist and her heart leap into her throat and there are several whoops from the peanut gallery.

“I love you,” Killian says, nothing extra, no add-ons or unnecessary punches pulled. Just there. Honest and truthful and in front of everyone. “I’m sorry you were worried.”

“Win the next one and we’ll call it even.”

“God,” David groans. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

Emma shrugs. Killian doesn’t let her turn around. “This is how it’s been the whole time, you guys are just horribly unperceptive.”

“Plus,” Killian says, mostly into Emma’s hair. “You were here for true love declarations, so you know—“

Emma’s stomach is a biological marvel.

“True love, huh?”

“Doubts, Swan?”

“None,” she says, meaning it. Killian beams.

And David groans. Loudly. It’s louder when they tell Ruby, a quick exchange of money that she promises to brag about for the rest of time because I totally knew, but Emma barely pays attention, far too preoccupied with making sure Killian takes all his medicine exactly when Dr. Whale told her he had to.

He doesn’t argue. Much.

He argues less when she kisses him.

She keeps kissing him. In his apartment and her apartment and their apartment because, eventually, it doesn’t make much sense to be buying two bottles of the same shampoo. And, again, when he gets back in the ring, a win that goes the distance and requires a decision that Emma announces is obvious, but takes the judges a small eternity to decide on.

She runs into the ring, but Killian catches her around the waist, kissing her like he’s been waiting the whole match for her to get there.

It’s, well, perfect.

Plus, it’s harder to keep a relationship secret when there are cameras and newspapers documenting the evidence. Emma prints out the picture, hanging it on their fridge the next morning while Killian makes breakfast.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #my quest to write CS fic for every sport continues #honestly #sorry this took ten thousand years anon #anonymous #laura rambles

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hidding-in-shadows · 5 years

Text

weak endeavors chapter four: instinct

@soulxmakaweek

Summary: For SoMa Week 2019. Soul’s an underground boxer who’s just trying to make some extra money to start his own life, it’s not his fault that his trainer’s daughter seems to catch his eye, and he can’t seem to stop her from wiggling her way into his life. Mature for adult language and situations.

FFN Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13266914/1/weak-endeavors

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549988/chapters/4396711

Sorry this chapter is a day late, I’m a teacher and had a tough day yesterday so I didn’t have a chance to finish proofing it. Here’s the chapter now though! Enjoy!

Trivia night use to be the worst, but with Maka on the team, Soul actually felt proud.

It had been something Blake had started a few months back to bring in customers to the bar, and Soul typically worked on those nights because people seemed to actually enjoy trivia. After Maka had begun to show up and play until the bar closed (and distract Soul), Blake had decided to let Soul have trivia nights off. Currently, their team consisted of Maka, Soul, Kilik, and Kid. The remainder of the group was working, besides Tsubaki, who was trying her best to fight off a cold.

Their group stood around a cocktail table, each of them with a drink in hand and eyes glued onto the T.V. screen in the back of the bar. It was an app game of some sort, where each team put their name in. A question would then pop up on the T.V. and the teams would have to answer within a given time limit. So far, there were only three teams playing, but their team was in the lead by two hundred points.

Maka was tucked against Soul’s side, his arm around her waist as they laughed at a joke Kilik told them. Another month had come and gone, a month since Soul had woken up to a hungover Maka cuddled into his chest. A month of his heartbeat picking up a little more every time she touched him or left one of her casual kisses.

“Oh, I know this one,” Maka gasped as she looked at the app on her phone quickly, tapping rapidly on one of the answers. A green check mark appeared on the screen and the team received two hundred more points.

The next questions flashed on the T.V. screen. What does the term ‘piano’ mean?

“Pick B,” Soul said as he sipped on his drink. Maka blinked at him for a moment before picking the answer, to be played softly. A green check mark flashed on the phone again, and the team got another two hundred points. Maka looked up at him and smiled.

“How did you know that?”

“I play piano.”

“Really,” Maka turned towards him and Soul let his arm drop, already missing her warmth, “how come I never knew that?”

“Never came up,” Soul finished the last of his drink, “I’m gonna grab another drink. Want anything?”

“Nope,” Maka smiled at him again and looked back at the T.V. as Kilik said to press answer C. Soul smiled as he watched her and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head before walking to the bar.

“You’re in it, man,” Blake said once he arrived to help Soul.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Soul rolled his eyes and took his drink. When he joined the others, the round for trivia night was over and they had won. Maka looked happy as she talked to the others and Soul slid into the conversation.

“I didn’t know you were into the arts,” Kilik said as Soul joined, “you know, I’m in the visual arts program as Uni. They have a pretty good music program too.”

“You should apply,” Maka gasped, turning to slap Soul on the chest, “it’s perfect.”

“Whoa, easy there,” Soul looked at the group, “I haven’t played in a while, I just mess around with writing stuff. The only piano I have is some electric keyboard I found on the side of the road a few months ago. Plus, I work at two dead-end jobs. I don’t have money for a University.”

“There’s scholarships,” Kid spoke up, “and I think my father made sure there were enough for at least five admissions per program. He’s good at that kinda stuff, thought I think five is a little high.”

“Yeah, and loans,” Maka chimed in, “I used loans, which suck because you have to pay them back, but I could help you fill out paperwork.”

“I’m good,” Soul took a sip of his drink, “besides, I don’t even think I wanna go back to school.”

“You don’t think,” Maka tapped his head with her finger, “that’s for sure.”

“Hey, watch it blondie.”

Maka stuck her tongue out at Soul before leaving to use the restroom. He watched as she walked away and into the hallway that lead to the restrooms. He turned back to Kilik and Kid who were now debating the pros and cons of college admissions. Soul wondered how he tolerated the two whenever they began to debate.

“Why haven’t you thought about school, Soul?” Kilik asked, trying to get out of the conversation with Kid.

“Dunno,” Soul shrugged, “money and timing mostly.”

“Well, like you said earlier, you’ve got two jobs now,” Kid said, “and you’ve been in this area for, what, a year now? Do you think you’re going to move somewhere else any time soon?”

“I haven’t thought about it, but you never know.”

“I think you should at least tour,” Kilik finished the last of his own beer, “just to check out the place. It’s a history school, so about half the classes revolve around the history or your major and when you graduate, you have a certification in the history of whatever you’re majoring. I’ll have a certification in modern-era sculptures and architecture.”

“Maka told me you did a lot of sculptures. What do you use?”

“Mostly metals. I like to heat them up and see how they react.”

“Pyromaniac,” Kid smirked. Kilik punched the other man in the shoulder and then went to get himself another drink.

“If you want a tour I can set one up,” Kid said, turning towards Soul, “since my father’s out of town right now I have been taking over some of his duties as dean. I can arrange a private tour, have you introduced to some professors as well.”

“Thank Kid, but I don’t really think that’s my kinda crowd.”

“Just think about it.”

“Okay,” Soul’s eyes flicked to the hallway Maka had disappeared down, “I’ll think about it.”

“I grabbed another one for you too Kid,” Kilik joined the guys again, putting down a second beer bottle, “when does the next trivia round start?”

“How long has Maka been gone?” Soul asked, looking for the clock in the bar.

“I don’t know,” Kid replied, looking at his watch, “maybe ten, fifteen minutes? But the women’s restroom is usually a pretty long wait.”

“Yeah, but there’s not too many girls here tonight,” Soul took a sip from his beer before putting it down on the cocktail table, “I’ll be right back.”

“So protective,” Kilik sighed as Soul walked away.

Soul made his way towards the hallway, mumbling excuse me as he pushed past a few people. As he got closer, he heard a familiar, rugged voice echoing from the hallways followed by Maka’s own retorte.

“I said,” Maka snarled as Soul rounded the corner, “no thanks.”

As the scene unfolded, Soul felt the voice inside of his head laugh madly.

Maka was pushed up against the wall, eyes made of fire as Ragnarok leaned forward, trapping her in with one arm pinned against the wall and the other one beginning to creep up her thigh, fingers threatening to push up under her skirt.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ragnarok smirked, “I’ll be the best you’ve ever been with, I can promise that.”

“Get your fucking hands,” Soul growled, snapping the two’s attention to him, “off my girl.”

Before Ragnarok could retaliate, Soul was down the hallway. He swung and landed a punch on Ragnarok’s cheek, making the man stumble backwards, but ultimately freeing Maka from the intrusion. She hissed his name at him as she reached out and gripped the front of his shirt, tugging for him to follow her and leave the situation.

“You mother fucker,” Ragnarok laughed, rubbing the blood from his mouth as he turned to face Soul, “it’s fine, take your slut and run off.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Soul moved towards the man again, ignoring Maka’s plead for him to back off. “Say it again. Say it again and see what happens. I knocked your ass down once, I can do it again.”

“I said,” Ragnarok loomed over him, but Soul’s presence filled the hallway, “take your fucking slut and run off. It’s okay, I’m sure she’s working with her pussy of a father to make some extra money. Nothing wrong with a little side work, sweetheart, and I am willing to pay.”

Soul hadn’t know what it meant when people said they saw red, but in that moment, it finally clicked.

His fist went flying and the two men began to fight. Maka hollered for help behind them, but neither of the men seemed to hear her. As Soul dodged one of Ragnarok’s punches, he heard the voices of Kilik and Kid from down the hall, along with some other guys as they came to break up the fight. Soul was pulled away, and something silver caught the corner of his eye.

Maka stood in front of him, raising her hands to touch his face, eyes inspecting a bruise forming on his cheekbone, but behind her Ragnarok had pulled out a switchblade, and swung it open. His arm arched and he brought it down, and suddenly everything was in slow motion. Soul yelled for Maka and she began to turn around, eyes wide. Then, he broke free of the grip Kilik and a stranger had on him, shoving Maka to the side and watched as the blade narrowly missed her, but landed on the new target -- him.

There was a scream, some yelling, and Soul watched as blood began to soak the front of his shirt. But, a fist connected with the side of his head and then all he saw was black.

---

Soul woke up to the smell of antiseptics and the warmth of a hand in his.

He didn’t open his eyes because he could already feel the brightness of the room behind his eyelids, but he listened because there was another person in the room that he could feel. And there were words, words he couldn’t quite make out, but if he listened closely enough …

“Baby, I just … I’m worried. I don’t wanna see you go down the path your mom and I went down,” Spirit’s voice sounded far away but Soul knew he was in the room.

“I understand Papa,” it was Maka who was holding his hand because as she spoke, he felt her grip tighten, “but this isn’t you and Mama. Soul and I, what we have going on, it’s … different. We’re friends.”

Spirit added something else, but there was a pull inside of Soul towards sleep and the next thing he knew he was waking back up, this time blinking his eyes open.

“Well shit,” Blake was sitting next to his bed, hair a bit disheveled but a loopy grin plastered to his face, “there’s the ugly bastard.”

“What are you doing here,” Soul groaned, closing his eyes again, “and why do I ache so much.”

“Well, you got pretty beat up,” Blake sighed, leaning back in his chair, “from what I heard, you and Ragnarok got in a fight, he pulled a knife, and you got in the way. You had to get a few stitches there, dude.”

“Fuck,” he groaned again, touching his chest and feeling the rough pattern of stitches underneath the medical gown. He flinched, forgetting how sensitive the wound would be. “Where’s Maka? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s a little shook up but that girl is made of steel. She went to get some coffee.”

“Jesus,” Soul moved and sat up a little more, wincing at the soreness of the wound.

“Oh my God,” a voice came from the door of the room and the boys turned to see Maka standing there with two cups of coffee in hand, “Oh my God, you’re awake!”

She almost dropped the coffees as she rushed to the bedside, thrusted the cups at Blake, and then threw her arms around Soul’s neck. He wanted to tell her that she was hurting his chest, but the warmth and smell of her pushed the pain away. Soul lifted his arms, wrapping then gingerly around Maka. She pulled away after a moment, her hands moving from his shoulders to his face as she ran a thumb over his cheek.

“This is my cue to leave,” Blake said as he stood up, grabbing his cup of coffee, “I’ll let the other’s know you’re up and good.”

“I should get the doctor,” Maka said as she pulled back. Soul grabbed her wrist as she stood, Blake already out of the room.

“Stay a little long,” Soul pulled her back and Maka slid onto the cot, sitting next to him, “I don’t wanna worry about me, I wanna check on you.”

“Soul, you’re the one who got basically stabbed,” Maka rolled her eyes and moved her hand to be holding his, “I mean, seriously? What even made you think that was a smart idea.”

“Instinct?” He offered with a raised eyebrow. Maka smirked and shook her head at him. “I’d rather it be me than you in this situation.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Maka reached out again, pressing her free hand to his cheek, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Soul placed his hand over hers and he turned to kiss her palm, mirroring the time he did it so long ago. (Was it really only two months?) “If he hurt you … I don’t know what I would have done.”

“But he didn’t,” Maka leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, “and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied.

#soma #weak endeavors #day 4: instinct #soul eater #maka albarn

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jbaiata · 5 years

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The making of “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

Stephen Hawking once famously observed that even those who believe everything in life is predestined look both ways before crossing the street. And while I don’t believe the arc of our lives is entirely predetermined, I do think it is contingent on us to be open enough to recognize seemingly chance encounters for what they are: opportunities. Or, as Jackson Browne more eloquently puts it: “Pay attention to the open sky/you never know what will be coming down.”

In April of 2016 I was presented with an amazing opportunity: to give voice to a story that was just begging to be told. Each year I volunteer for a fundraiser in Ridgewood, NJ - Saylestock, to benefit The Matt Sayles Foundation for Salivary Gland Cancer. It’s an inspiring day - an all day music and arts festival that inevitably creates some magic moments for organizers and attendees alike. Toward the end of the day I was approached by a town resident and asked about the origins of the fundraiser. I told her how Dave and Kathy Sayles had turned the most convulsive, painful event of their lives - the death of their young son to a rare cancer - into an urgent, vital cause. That resident, Lisa Paterson, could unfortunately relate. We fell into an hour long conversation, and Lisa bared her soul to someone who had been a complete stranger to her moments before.

Widowed on 9/11 when her husband Steven was among those murdered by the terrorists, Lisa was left to raise her twin four year-old’s, Lucy and Wyatt, alone. And to work through her own searing grief while trying to ensure her children did not become collateral damage to the worst terrorist attack in our country’s history. She endured a Sisyphean, near decade-long struggle to get Wyatt, who is developmentally disabled, to accept that his father was gone. I was incredibly moved, and determined that the story needed to reach a much wider audience.

While driving down to Philadelphia the next morning, I was fixated on two things. The first was the conversation with Lisa, and replaying in my mind something she had recounted about Wyatt’s finally turning the corner. She’d found a working farm the then teenaged Wyatt had really taken to, and when asked why he liked it so much, he’d replied “Daddy’s in the sky there.” The second was how much I’d thoroughly enjoyed one band in particular - a self-described “funk, soul, jazz and rock fusion” outfit that I wanted to see again. What the hell was their name? I had thrown one of the Saylestock handout brochures into my work bag, and quickly pulled it out. Ho-lee shit. “SkyDaddy.” The name of the freaking band was SkyDaddy!

Photo: Lisa Paterson (second from left) poses with the band SkyDaddy and a friend. Credit: John Baiata

In that moment, chance encounter begat providence. Lisa and I began a long series of spoken and written conversations that, half a year later, culminated in this story, and a second on “NBC Nightly News.” Lisa was a completely open book, confiding her private pain and doubts, and granting me access to those who knew her best. She invited me out to Wyatt’s farm to spend the day there. I interviewed Wyatt’s longtime doctor. I interviewed Lisa’s therapist. But it was a conversation with Lisa’s exceptional daughter, Lucy, that would eventually birth “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace.”

Lisa had shared with me the extraordinary, lifelong bond Lucy and Wyatt had developed, and even credited Wyatt with saving Lucy’s life as an infant. Lucy was failing to thrive, in trouble, and nothing the doctors had tried was working. It was only after Wyatt was laid beside his sister in the NICU that Lucy began to respond. Still, speaking at length with Lucy directly was revelatory. I came away with a much clearer understanding of the “two unique souls united by birth” dynamic associated with twins in general, with an even deeper appreciation of the lifelong, unbreakable bond Lucy and Wyatt has forged - and with the inspiration for a song.

Photo: An infant and endangered Lucy Paterson . Credit: Paterson family.

I’ve been writing song lyrics since I was a teenager. To see the vast majority of them is to understand just how difficult good songwriting is. In each case, I set out to write about a specific subject. I wrote the lyrics. This will inevitably sound cliche` but I can think of no other way to describe it: for the first time, with “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace,” the lyrics wrote me. They started coming to me in the days after that phone interview with Lucy, and kept up a steady patter in my brain until I finally reached for a notebook beside my bed, and began to capture the voices in my head.

Wyatt and Lucy became Charlie and Grace. I cribbed Charlie’s name from Charlie Greene, an outstanding young man who had also lost his father in the 9/11 attacks. I’d gotten the chance to work with Charlie in the summer of 2011, and had recently introduced him to Lucy. I cribbed Grace’s name from John Newton, the poet and clergyman who wrote “Amazing Grace” a hundred and forty years ago. In all, the lyrics contain references to fifteen other songs, and eight bible verses. (If you’d like to see how many you recognize or are just a glutton for punishment, they are all annotated at the end of this blog.) Once finished, I had a thought I’d never conjured before about lyrics I’d written: “These don’t suck.”

I shared the lyrics initially only with Lisa, a fellow music nut like me, and with my wife Anna. Encouraged by their enthusiastic responses, I made my best decision yet, and shared them with my cousin Flynn - along with the story I’d written about Lisa, Lucy and Wyatt for context.

Photo: Wyatt and Lucy Paterson today. Credit: Paterson family.

My wife Anna has long pondered how to leverage all the music trivia in my brain for financial gain, and I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about music in general. But Flynn (That’s his full, legal name) is an actual musician, and someone whom I’ve always looked up to. Music has long been the common thread between us. As teenagers I was enthralled listening to his takes on local rock heroes the Stray Cats, and many others. As adults he would often invite me on Friday nights to come sing and play a little percussion with a small group of his musician friends. Nothing serious - “basement band” stuff. But it meant a lot that a group of musicians whose talent level far exceeded my own would include me. Since moving to southern Florida, Flynn has played extensively and cultivated an impressive network of musician friends in the area. He plays guitar beautifully, writes and records, and has notebooks filled with original lyrics of his own. And so when he got back to me, I was not quite prepared for his reaction.

It was beyond encouraging. He was effusive in his praise, and inspired by the story behind the lyrics. Flynn became the driving force behind the project. It took more than two years to bring to fruition, and in all that time his north star for it was clear-eyed. He wanted to give the lyrics a musical home to be proud of, for sure, but more than anything he was driven by his heart, and by doing something special for the Paterson family. Without his recruiting and wrangling of musical contributors, his booking of studio times and overseeing sessions, the steady stream of ideas and feedback he ran by me, this song would not exist. I am grateful beyond words.

In February of 2018 Flynn and I went into Rain Cat Recordings in Jensen Beach, Florida to lay down the first and most important building block of the song, a gorgeous guitar track that he had written to accompany the lyrics. We had home field advantage. The wizards behind Rain Cat, Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar, were well acquainted with Flynn. Having been briefed on the project’s origins in advance, they were happy to get involved.

Photo: Flynn working the guitar track at Rain Cat Recordings

Flynn had recorded a scratch vocal track that day as well, but it was a placeholder until we could identify a vocalist. He offered up a wide array of vocalists he knew and could approach - men and women. I felt strongly that it should be a woman, as the chorus is sung from Grace’s first person point of view. In the end we decided to try and recruit Summer Gill for the project. I confided in Flynn that I’d kept a running list in my head for years of my own “heavenly choir,” the voices I would choose to sing me home when my time came: Mavis Staples, Emmy Lou Harris, Aretha Franklin, Linda Ronstadt and Alicia Keys. Summer’s voice moved me in the same way those others did, wringing emotion from every verse. I had my doubts that we could get her onboard. She was gigging constantly in support of her latest EP, working on songs for her next one, and our little song seemed a trifle by comparison. And so we were both thrilled when Flynn reported back that she’d readily agreed to work with us - and all the more so upon hearing her evocative vocal.

Photo: Summer Gill during one of our sessions at Rain Cat Recordings

Along the way there were plenty of setbacks. While at Rain Cat with Summer during the first session to record the vocal track, Flynn got word that his Mom had passed. Another session was scuttled last minute after Summer was involved in a car accident. Some musicians proved more difficult to schedule than others, and a good chunk of time was lost trying to schedule one in particular.

That disappointment was more than made up for by the contributions of Adam Emanuel, a multi-talented musician who, in Flynn’s words, was “all in from the beginning.” From Adam we got a vital piano track; one he tinkered with and improved over several sessions. Adam also gave life to Flynn’s vision for a “sweetener” track. After considering a couple of other paths - a pedal steel guitar? Nah. Flute? Nope - Adam came up with the synth strings that really enhanced the song’s emotional resonance.

Photo: Adam Emanuel laying down the piano track at Rain Cat Recordings

And then there’s the guys behind Rain Cat, Jeff and Bryan. It’s no given that artists who are really good at making music are experts at mixing it, and these guys are both. They also support their artists out in the community, and have developed a fiercely loyal client base because of it. It’s got to be all kinds of cool to be in the business of bringing others’ musical visions to life. Serious respect for these guys.

Photo: Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar. Courtesy: Rain Cat Recordings

Throughout the process, Flynn and I engaged in a grand jury level of secrecy, so as not to spoil the eventual reveal to Lisa and Wyatt. Lucy, however, was conscripted as a necessary co-conspirator. Her first reaction to the lyrics she helped inspire was moving and heartfelt:

“I had to take a step back from the computer in order to compose myself... Thank you so very much for depicting my family’s story, specifically mine, in such a poetic and gorgeously bittersweet way.”

Her words also further incentivized us to finish. Lucy was responsible for gathering the bulk of the family photos that helped imbue the lyrics video with the personalized look her family’s remarkable story deserves. Finally, a big shout out to my daughter Alexa for her time and help editing the video.

The song is available on Apple Music, Google Play & Youtube Music, Amazon, Pandora, Tidal, Napster, iHeart Radio, etc Any proceeds from the song are going to help support Wyatt’s farm. You can also make a direct donation.

Thanks for reading this far, but I am reminded that where words fail, music speaks. I hope “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace” speaks to you. Click here for a listen.

“The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

One mother, two cords, one shared space

Brother and sister, Charlie and Grace

Grace soon fell ill, her parents dismayed

But grew strong once Charlie’s sweet head was laid

Beside her own on the pillowcase

The first time he started

amazing Grace

“The boy’s not right,” they said. “His mind’s addled.”

Grace took up armor, prepared for battle

Be not afraid, her flag unfurled

Then had a thought that could change the world

In Charlie, redemption she could see and taste

And he’d only begun

amazing Grace

(spoken) And she sang:

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The life in the day, the call in the breeze

Lucy in the sky, the magic in believe

Far too young when their daddy was taken

Charlie sat and wailed, “Why have you forsaken me?”

Grace took up his battle cry

While Charlie paid attention to the open sky

And blessings from space

And he carried on

amazing Grace

Charlie grew up to work the land

Planting seed written in the palm of his hands

And Charlie taught Grace to sow some seeds of her own

How some will grow, some you just call a loan

To tend to your gardens where the land is laid waste

And he never failed at

amazing Grace

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The spirit in the sky, sorrow in the fountain

Smoke on the water, and fire on the mountain

Charlie grew frail, his head a crown of splendor

Grace held firm; a loss she thought might end her

But Charlie’s voice rose in song she could believe

How sweet the sound, her fears relieved

And even as the light fell from his face

He never once stopped

amazing Grace

He just might have saved her from going under

Charlie boy, the boy wonder

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.

Source material/references for “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”:

“Amazing Grace,” John Newton

“For a Dancer,” Jackson Browne

“Fountain of Sorrow,” Jackson Browne

“Call it a Loan,” Jackson Browne

“Grace,” U2

“Fire on the Mountain,” The Grateful Dead

“Spirit in the Sky,” Norman Greenbaum

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” The Beatles

“A Day in the Life,” The Beatles

“Call Me the Breeze,” Lynard Skynard

“Do You Believe in Magic?” The Lovin’ Spoonful

“A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young,” Eric Church

“Me and Charlie Talking,” Miranda Lambert

“Away in a Manger” Charles Gabriel

Psalm 40/U2’s “40” “He set my feet upon a rock, and held my footsteps firm.”

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will hold you with my righteous right hand.”

Matthew 27:46 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Ephesians 6:13 “Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.”

Proverbs 16:31 Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness

Isaiah 49:16 ”See, I have written your name in the palm of my hands.”

Psalm 34:8 “Taste and see the Lord is good, blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Ezekial 36:35 “They will say ‘This land that was laid waste has become like the garden of Eden; the cities that were lying in ruins, desolate and destroyed, are now fortified and inhabited.”

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rinnnyxr · 3 years

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One rule: bold everything that applies to you, then count the answers.

Aries Gotta go fast Independence Participant, always Fuck you, don’t tell me what do to *brooding intensifies* Good sense of humor I ain’t neva scared “I’m not competitive but I’m gonna win” Assertive Going first Running yellow lights

People are drawn to you even tho you don’t invite them Feelings = action Impulsivity Creative Leader Competent “I thought you didn’t like me”-everyone Accidentally hurting people’s feelings Shares everything with partner What if the pope blasted cigs? Starting shit you don’t feel like finishing “I guess that was rude” No. 11/24

Taurus Treat yo’self Underappreciated at work Loyalty Great tastes in art&culture Spoiled (or wishing you were) Robe appreciation A vice (alcohol, weed, or comfort food) Homemaking/nesting Continuing to do something you don’t love just because you’re resistant to change Affection via touch Easy going Perfecting a wardrobe that is both comfy and flawless Having good ass eyebrows Highkey sensitive Stubborn af Not even taking your *own* advice Gossiping Lady in the street but a freak in the bed Creativity Spooning Commitment Stressing out over a change in someone’s tone of voice Finishing what you started Lots of venting lol 14/24

Gemini Unpopular opinion factory Secret&diverse intellectual landscape “Oh I got really into *miscellaneous hobby or topic* for a while” Intellectualizing or ignoring feelings Cleaning maybe once a year Look, a distraction! Thinking faster than you can talk Restless without hobbies Talking faster than you can think Reading four books at once Tons of energy Teaching others what you know Trivia machine Moodiness Knowing everything but also forgetting everything Existential crisis “Sorry I forgot to text you back” So many interests so little time Accidentally talking too loud Young at heart Pretty good public speaker Endless scrolling Shitposting Unpredictable sleep schedule 6/24

Cancer Connecting with women “Guess I’ll have to love you with my whole heart and soul” Vegetarianism/veganism Fear of rejection Surrounding yourself with soft blankets and mood lighting Ferocious protector “I’m not going to dwell on it” *dwells on it* Takes child-rearing seriously Hardshell protecting soft ego Feeding sad friends Forecast: mood swings Heart of gold but still a badass Bad with boundaries Learning how to relax like it’s your job Lightweight drinker Yeah. Crying, ok? It’s not a big deal Mama trauma Food = comfort Nostalgia as a coping mechanism Identify built off memories Complaining Very emotionally intuitive of others Big fan of physical and emotional affection People telling you all their BS all the time 9/24

Leo Friendly Self-indulgence Never being able to tell if you’re the best or the worst People trying to compete with you lol Sensitive Decent at cheering people up Great hair Wardrobe swings between hot as hell and lazy af Interrupting Having a sense of honor Not doing something because you’re not good at it Talking too loud Finding dogs pretty relatable Creative talent Super supportive friend Enthusiasm Socializing like it’s your job&then needing to recharge Memes Priorities: eating and sleeping Boo hiss at rejection Looking good even when you feel like shit Drama Needing lots of love Loyal 6/24

Virgo Relating to Hermione Granger Gives great advice even when your own life is in shambles Flirting and running, an autobiography Petty Pretty damn intelligent Loving words/linguistics 8 hours of “studying” = 1 hour of real work Swings between clean and slobbish Indecision Splurging on food Mom friend A freak on the DL Peculiar eating habits Pretty good with words Good with pets and/or kids Known to schedule sex Multitasking af Cleaning as a coping mechanism “It me” Loves self-care but deprioritizes it 0 to hottie in 2 seconds flat Lowkey wood nymph All the receipts Bratty sub or service top 13/24

Libra If you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all Pls no fighting Good judge of character Leadership roles in friendships Takes up less emotional space for the well being of others Art adoration Real glo up wizards Nature adoration Hates boredom Wholesome Keep it cute Emotionally braced for betrayal Lowkey running from problems with people Falling in love with people’s hearts/minds Investing in your appearance Loves all things cute Always the mediator Trust issues Charming Staying up to date on culture Taking the high road Always putting your feelings aside for others Aesthetics Mom friend 12/24

Scorpio Growing up early Being a new person every few years Black/dark wardrobe Pain is cool Interest in psychology/criminology/sociology Privacy Sexual but not promiscuous All or nothing thinking Intelligent Loner/lonely Taking care of everyone Would kill or die for loved ones Protective as fuck Bloodhound for truth Deep Fascination with death/insanity/occultism Love-hate relationships “idk I’m just feeling numb rn” Jealous or possessive Trust issues Loyal as fuck Secretly soft Gets shit done Boundaries 13/24

Sagittarius Long ass bucket list Prefers to mind their own business Unbothered Nice enough that people always think you’re hitting on them Fear of missing out Optimism Honest and upfront Your shit is lowkey not together Plenty of friends Snobby enough to have good taste Flirting your way into something you can’t finish Storyteller or philosophical preacher “Here for a good time, not a long time” “…rude” Free spirit “Films” Distracted Smarter than you look I’m just speaking my truth! “I’m just inviting a few people” Falls in love with your mind, then your body Blows up the aux cord Hedonism phases Horniness gets you into some shit lol 9/24

Capricorn On your grind Discipline dgaf attitude Stoic in the streets, softie in the sheets Planning ahead, way ahead Always prepared (Un)healthy coping mechanisms Likes structure Prioritizing self-mastery Loyal protector of friends, babies, and animals Basically born an adult Dark humor People being mad about your tough love Old soul Major procrastinator Kind of a know-it-all on the DL Major sadness and madness People thanking you for your tough love People think you’re responsible “Why was I programmed to feel pain” meme Parenting your parents “Lock that in the trauma vault” Either a loner or a socialite Giving advice like it’s your job 8/24

Aquarius Me, an intellectual: Needing to do things your way Superiority complex Gossip Conspiracy theories Skepticism Not even having the energy to tell people how wrong they are Courteous/considerate People love you but you hate people Lonely Outsider syndrome Relating to cats a great deal Hates being told what to do or when to do it Not trusting someone/something that’s popular Being accused of being emotionless Insightful Feeling like the only rational person in a room Existential crisis Devil’s advocate just to get people to think Rationalizing tf out of your feelings Hates small talk Vices You’re entitled to your opinion no matter how wrong it is Interest in sociology, psychology, and politics 9/24

Pisces Empath Dramatic Poetry or music Lots of imagination, fluctuating identity Getting high on being outside Alone time “Idk I’m just a lil sad rn idk” Spiritual af Helping people heal Existential dread Pets love you Mommy issues Good with kids Cathartic crying over art, movies, or nature Knowing how people feel before they do Feeling misunderstood/alone “Go with the flow” Encountering spirits On life: “I’m just here for the ride” Drugs Forgiving others but blaming yourself Kindness Sorry, I was dissociating Exploring nature 11/24

I am most like a: Taurus I am actually a: Virgo

Have you today? Watched an animation? Pet an animal? Been grocery shopping? Talked to a sibling? Seen a spider? Had a stomach ache? Seen someone attractive? Played a musical instrument? Eaten meat? Brushed your teeth?

Have you in the last week? Paid for something with a credit card? Kissed someone passionately? Told someone you miss them? Read a book? Been to the gym? Broken a fingernail? Collected the mail? Been to work? Used something with batteries? Eaten cheese?

Have you in the last month? Been to a doctor? Packed a suitcase? Tried a new food you’d never eaten before? Taken a bubble bath? Chewed gum? Played a card game? Seen a movie at the cinema? Been on an airplane? Blocked someone on Facebook or other social media?

Have you in the last six months? Been in a hospital for any reason? Written a handwritten letter? Been on a train? Gotten a haircut? Broken up with someone? Eaten out at a restaurant? Stayed in a hotel? Been to a concert?

Have you in the last year? Been to a funeral? Held a newborn baby? Been to an amusement park? Dyed your hair? Been to the dentist? Smoked a cigarette? Been to a cemetery? Bought something over $500?

Shy Girl 1. You haven’t been in a lot of relationships. 2. People have asked you to speak up because they couldn’t hear what you were saying. 3. You get nervous when meeting new people. 4. You’re not good at talking to guys you like. 5. You have trouble making new friends. 6. With a group of friends, you are usually the one who doesn’t add much to the conversation. Total: 4

The Girl With Low Self-Esteem 1. You are not happy with your appearance. 2. You don’t think you’re good enough for any guy. 3. You don’t bother trying to get a date because you know you don’t have a chance. 4. You think people are lying when they compliment you. 5. You are not satisfied with your weight. 6. Sometimes you wish you were someone else. Total: 4

The Girl Who Is Too Obsessive 1. You like to know where your boyfriend is at all times. 3. You tell your boyfriend what he is and isn’t allowed to do. 4. Sometimes you message/text/call your boyfriend too much. 5. You’ve followed a boyfriend before because you thought he was cheating. 6. You have trouble keeping a boyfriend. Total: 1

Flirty Girl 1. You are obsessed with cute guys. 2. You have cheated or would cheat on a boyfriend. 3. You can’t be happy with just one guy. 4. You have been known to flirt a lot. 5. What your boyfriend doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 6. A lot of guys think you’re attractive. Total: 1

Confused Girl 1. Your relationship status is complicated. 2. You don’t know what kind of guy you want. 3. You’re not good at making decisions. 4. You’ve thought you were in love but really weren’t. 5. You get confused easily. 6. You are always changing your mind. Total: 2

The Needy Girl 1. You’ve been badly hurt after a breakup. 2. You depend too much on others. 3.You would do anything for a boyfriend if it meant making him happy. 4. Your boyfriend is a huge priority. 5. You can’t stand being away from your boyfriend. 6. You would accept anyone who asked you out. Total: 1

Playgirl 1. You have been in a lot of relationships. 2. You have hooked up with someone just for sex. 3. Most of your relationships weren’t serious. 4. You don’t really care if you break someone’s heart. 5. You are good at getting guys. 6. You are not a virgin. Total: 2

The Future-Seeking Girl 1. You have thought you found “the one” before. 2. You have imagined what you and your boyfriend’s kids will look like. 3. You want to get married. 4. You want kids. 5. You’d like serious long-term relationships. 6. You and a boyfriend have talked about your future together. Total: 3

The Attention-Seeking Girl 1. You love attention. 2. You have faked an illness or made a story up to get someone’s attention. 3.You love receiving gifts more than giving them. 4. You love PDA. 5. You hate it when your boyfriend pays more attention to someone else rather than you. 6. You would date someone even if you didn’t like them. Total: 1

The Dominator 1. You hate it when you don’t get your way. 2. You wear the pants in your relationship. 3. Your boyfriend would do anything for you. 4. You are spoiled or someone has called you spoiled. 5. You love to be in control of things. 6.You are usually the one to plan the things you and your boyfriend do. Total: 3

You are: Shy girl and The Girl with Low Self-esteem

The computer [] I spend hours at a time on the computer. [] Without the computer, life would not be the same. [] I depend so much on my computer, if it broke down, I would cry. [] I have sooooo many pictures, files, games and other things saved on my computer. [] I have my own computer, and it is in my room. [] I buy stuff online frequently. [] When I have homework or other responsibilities, I tend to go on the computer instead. [] I have been late to something because I couldn’t get off the damn computer. [] My parents always say that they’re ‘going to take away my internet’ because they know that would be the ultimate punishment. Total: 7

Online chat/phone [] I have spent more than 6 hours talking on the phone. [] My phone is practically attached to my ear. [] I have gone to sleep extremely late because I was up talking on the phone. [] My cellphone bill is too high. [] If my MSN/AIM/Yahoo, etc. won’t allow me to sign in, I go crazy. [] I have over 200 online buddies. [] I met good friends, or even my best friend, online. [] I meet people in person that I met on the internet, complete strangers. [] I spend more time in chatrooms than I do with my own family/friends. [] I’d rather chat online than by phone, e-mail, or in person. Total: 5

Magazines/books [] I am ALWAYS reading something. [] I have 100+ magazines. [] I buy more than 3 magazines every month. [] I am subscribed to more than 3 magazines. [] I am soon gonna run out of space to put all my magazines! [] When my mom threatens that she’s gonna thrown out my magazines, I yell and tell her that I’m keeping them forever! [] Reading is way more fun than TV, computer, music, etc. [] Books are my life. I even wanna write a book. [] I spend more money on books/magazines than I do on clothes every month. Total: 0

Music [] Without music, my life would be miserable. [] It seems that I’m always humming or singing something. [] I like every type of music. [] My mp3 player/iPod has over 1000 songs. [] Not to mention the huge amount of songs I have on my computer. [] I have 200+ CD’s. [] Music cheers me up, makes me happy, relieves my stress..kinda like a best friend. [] Whatever mood I’m in, I can always listen to some music. [] I am/want to be in a band. [] I lost count of how many concerts I’ve been to. Total: 3

Movies [] I see at least 4 movies in theatres per month. [] I have so many DVDs, I don’t know where all of them are! [] I have a DVD player in my room, that I use often. [] I buy every movie that I really like. [] I keep all my movie stubs. [] I am always quoting things from movies. [] I can list 20 of my favourite movies right now. [] I watch the Oscars religiously. [] Movies are better than TV shows and music put together. [] I have over 5 favourite actors and over 5 favourite actresses. Total: 0

Make-up, hair & other girly things [] I straighten/curl/crimp my hair every day. [] I don’t remember how my own natural hair colour looks unless I look at old pictures. [] I have so much make-up, I don’t even use half of it. [] I have more than 5 eyeliners, 5 eyeshadow palettes and 5 lip glosses. [] I wear bows, hairbands, ribbons, etc. in my hair. [] I get my hair cut more than once every 3 months. [] I LOVE pink, anything pink is good! [] Flowers are awesome, as well as chocolate, jewelry and designer clothes. [] Accessories are actually more important to me than my clothes! [] I have more than 5 purses. Total: 5

Television [] I watch at least 5 shows per day. [] I spend more than 5 hours watching TV every day. [] I am addicted to some shows. [] If I miss an episode of my favourite show, I’ll freak out. [] I watch TV before I go to sleep. [] My alarm clock is my TV. [] I have seen every MTV show at least once. [] I have more than 500 channels on my TV. [] I use picture-in-picture. [] During commercials, I flip to other channels to watch something else. Total: 2

Sports [] I watch sports every day. [] I have been on a sports team more than 5 times. [] I play sports any chance I get. [] I am very athletic and fit. [] I work out all the time. [] I also walk, run, bike, or swim on a regular basis (as a way of exercising). [] I have a favourite basketball, soccer, baseball, etc. player as well as favourite teams. [] I like to be outside waaayy more than staying inside. [] I don’t mind getting sweaty or breaking a nail. [] No, I’m not girly. Total: 1

Food [] I am in love with chocolate. [] I will eat anything once. [] I always eat when I’m bored, stressed, watching TV, etc. [] I don’t care about my weight, all I wanna do is eat! [] I have tried Mexican, Italian, Chinese, Thai, Indian, as well as other kind of dishes. [] I don’t have many foods that I dislike. [] I like going to parties or other gatherings for the food! [] My friends say I’m a pig when it comes to food. [] I cannot go to the mall without eating something at the food court. [] Snacking is my favourite pastime. Total: 6

Going out/friends [] I go to tons of parties every year. [] I have more friends than I can count. [] If someone invites me to go somewhere, I don’t care what mood I’m in, I’m going! [] Movie theatres, amusement parks and malls are among my favourite places. [] I hate staying in, I’d rather be out 24/7. [] The computer is cool, but partying is so much better! [] My friends and I do crazyyy things! [] I cannot pay attention in class because I’m always chatting with friends or thinking about what I’m gonna do that night. [] Work? Who has time for a job when you can hang out with your friends instead! Total: 2

Shopping/clothes [] I go shopping at least twice a week. [] I don’t care how many shoes or accessories I have, I always need more! [] There’s always more room in my closet for more clothes. [] I follow fashion/trends. [] I have 10 or more pairs of jeans. [] I have 30+ shoes. [] The mall = best place ever! [] I spend money like nothing else. [] I can’t just ‘hang’ at the mall, I have to buy something! [] I want a job at my favourite store so I can get discounts and go shopping after work! Total: 2

Bad things [] I steal/shoplift frequently. [] I smoke cigarettes every day. [] I smoke something other than cigarettes regularly. [] I have gone to school/work high or drunk. [] I get drunk when I’m with friends and then do stupid things. [] I have done sexual things under the influence. [] I curse ALL the time. [] I fight with people constantly. [] I have been arrested. [] I am banned from 2 or more places.

Total: 1

My addiction is: Music, then Magazines/Books and Shopping/Clothes. True that :P

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datingadviceonreddit · 5 years

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I apologize for the wall of text. I tend to deeply self-analyze and provide a lot of context for things.38m, divorced 3 years ago, and trying to get back into dating. Actually, I should say get into dating for the first time - Prior to my marriage, the longest relationship I'd managed was 5 weeks. Of the half dozen or so romantic relationships I had, every single one of them fell into my lap and was with someone I was willing to tolerate for the privilege of having a relationship, rather than someone I was actively interested in that would enrich either of our lives. Honestly, I think the only reason the marriage worked for as long as it did was because she was extremely codependent and I was willing to tolerate things for years because I didn't know any better. I always tried to take the high road, forgiving things that should have been unforgivable, setting aside my own well-being for the sake of domestic stability, compromising in just about every way. After some 8 years, the misery was just too much, and when I admitted that, it turned out that she hadn't been happy for a long time either, and we split up amicably. We still co-parent our daughter, but have minimal contact outside of that arrangement.Since then, I've poured a ton of energy into working on myself. I've worked hard at developing a positive mindset, I've dieted, lost about 100 pounds in the past 18 months (still more to go, but looking much better), taken up working out, worked on my hygiene, cut my hair and trimmed down to a tasteful beard, improved my style, and all around tried to make myself a better person physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially.Now, I still don't have many friends, but I've always been an introvert that preferred a small number of close friendships over a large number of acquaintances. I've tried expanding my social circle but without much success, though I do at least have a couple friends that have stuck by me for more than a decade, even if the others have drifted away over the years. Sadly the friends I do have are perpetually single and have long since given up dating themselves (and were rubbish at it even when they were active), so they're no help in this endeavor.I'm apparently one of the rare winners of the genetic lottery, being that while I'm 38, I somehow still have a full head of hair that has barely thinned from when I was a teenager, with no grays yet either. I'm 6'5" and broad shouldered, my features are decently proportioned and symmetrical, and after getting my grooming sorted and changing to a shorter hairstyle, r/AmIUgly put me at about 5 or 6/10. I've even gotten a few complements from people who've seen significant changes over time.According to my last exam, I'm healthier than the vast majority of people my age outside of still having more weight to lose. My diet is under control, I watch my macro-nutrients and calorie counts, I'm not diabetic, I have very low sugar and sodium intake, I work out several times a week, I don't smoke, I rarely drink, I don't take recreational drugs, and I have to be dying before I consider taking an aspirin.I've got a stable job that I'm good at, although I can't say I enjoy it so much as I'm able to tolerate it. I'm debt free, though I'm still renting a house and not in a position to buy one in the near future. I'm putting away for retirement, building up a nest egg for emergencies, and I've got enough that I can afford to go out fairly often without concern.I'm very self-aware, clear-headed, not autistic, Aspy, ADHD or the like, no social anxiety (at least I think I don't), although I admit that I find small-talk to be exceptionally tedious and tiring (classic introvert). I do recharge from solitude, but I acknowledge the need for social connection, and that staying home all the time doesn't allow any chance of meeting people at all. I'm at the bottom edge of qualifying for the Mensa Society, so I'm certainly brighter than average but not super-genius or anything. I've always been extremely analytical, which is why I've been working in Information Technology for more than a decade, and is how I keep my life and finances running properly. I'm always reading or trying to learn new things.I naturally go out of my way to research everything on a topic and build an actionable plan when I'm interested in something, and I've treated dating no differently. I've read thousands of pages of advice columns and books, watched many hours of videos, and gathered as much information as I could on being successful at dating, seeing as how I had zero useful experience prior to my divorce.And somehow, all of this effort has earned me precisely nothing. I've followed as much of the advice as I reasonably can, making myself the best version of myself that I can be (although that will always be a work in progress), getting out where I can meet people organically while also trying online dating to see if any matches develop that way.All I want is a long-term relationship that is enriching, fulfilling, and respectful to us both, with someone that I'm actually excited/proud to be with (proud for myself, not for what society thinks). That shouldn't be more than anyone can reasonably ask for, should it? I've basically thrown out all of the standards for things that I thought I was interested in, and I'm still trying to work through what I really want, because without having a strong idea of my ideal match, I'm mostly shooting in the dark.I've built profiles on a half dozen different online dating sites, following the advice on what to talk about and what not to talk about in a profile, what sorts of pictures to have with the best camera angles, lighting, and outfits, and how to phrase opening messages so that they'll be seen and generate attention. So far, I've yet to get a single response. I tried Tinder, sticking to matching with about 30% of the profiles (I know that too many and too few causes the algorithm to lock you down), but I've managed zero matches. Zero replies. Zero anything.I've tried talking to people in coffee shops, book stores, and meetup events (one of which has led to me Gamemastering a long-term Dungeons & Dragons group, so yay for that at least). I've been to singles mixers, trivia nights, speed dating, hobby gatherings, and dance classes. While I can maintain small talk in small groups and even make solid points or provide advice on topics that I'm knowledgeable on, none of this garners positive romantic attention. Unless it's a group conversation, most interactions last for 2-4 lines exchanged, and end with a "Well, it was nice to have met you, have a great day."I admit that I'm rubbish at cold-approaching, but I think that's partly because I feel like the cold approach is always an unwelcome intrusion - almost every woman I see either has earbuds on, or is in a hurry to get somewhere, or otherwise has the "don't approach" body language going on, making it difficult to find a moment to exchange words at all. But even experts say that the cold approach has some of the worst success rates, so I'm not crying about that.On the other hand, I've yet to see a single example of positive body language. Lots of advice sites mention what to look for to know when a girl is interested, and I've studied that well. Yet I never see lingering eye contact or a meaningful glance or a smile. When I see an attractive woman and somehow manage to catch her eye and flash a smile, I never get a smile back. I don't know how, but somehow I manage to generate essentially zero romantic interest in anyone, and I don't know why.I've looked into dating coaches, but even the cheapest ones seem to only entertain one-percenter clients. Seriously, $400 an hour for a phone consultation means 3 hours of advice costs more than I pay in rent.But what I'm getting at is that I've put so much effort into all of this, and it's disheartening to have basically nothing to show for it. Dating advice often mentions the difference between an abundance mentality (attractive women are everywhere, no need to get invested in any specific one so you're not broken up if it falls through) and a scarcity mentality (why guys get needy because they feel like this one girl is their only shot). How do you maintain an abundance mentality when it never feels like there's an abundance? Keeping your spirits high is one of the most important parts of attraction (otherwise you come off as needy or creepy), but how do you keep your spirits up when there's no positive reinforcement whatsoever?TL;DR Somehow I can't even get so much as a phone number, despite following all the dating advice I can and living in a college town where attractive women should be plentiful. Please don't ridicule me (yes, I've been ridiculed for seeking advice like this, thus why this is a throwaway account), I am legitimately trying to understand what I'm doing wrong to better myself. via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

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