#equal parts charmer and sincere

[gemini-care-barr]

The original post PLUS these tags courtesy of @hxghball are too good not to highlight. Especially since YES I’ve been saying this for years and I agree with every word.

Some of my rambling thoughts: Hal really isn’t dumb and blindly reckless, not only is he not dumb and blindly reckless, but he’s outright smart and very clever. He doesn’t show all his cards out the gate. He’s a gambler by nature, enabled by an equal parts innate and honed skill to weigh his odds and develop a plan. He’s also very willing to play a part, any part, be it loyal soldier, dark renegade, or loud-mouthed idiot, he’ll do it in order to accomplish what he sets out to do. We see that in Morrison’s run that (spoilers) has him going deep undercover with the Blackstars. We also see that in Johns’ run when he willingly throws his career away by acting the reckless idiot in order to try and see his mother one last time. Hal doesn’t care about appearances, he’s willing to play a part, and he’s extremely smart about how he goes about doing it. He’s deliberate and thinks things through while on the fly. He makes it look effortless really which makes him all the more impressive yet seem all the more dumb to everybody else which of course doesn’t bother him because while he’s proud of his accomplishments and isn’t shy about wanting to be, and fully believing he is, the best, he’s also smart enough to let his enemies and rivals underestimate him in order to actually be the best. Despite all the facades he’s willing to wear, what’s true about him is that he is charming, he is funny, and he is smart. He’s all these things and so much more.

Misconception: Hal Jordan is an idiot

Okay this might be part of a series of Green Lantern posts I’ve been writing when bored, because hey you read some youtube comments and suddenly you’re an essay writer. It’s just gonna be me rambling about Hal’s character lol

So we’ve all made dumbass jokes, me included, but honestly? Hal’s not stupid, he can’t be. It takes a lot to be a test pilot, including a degree in the engineering/physics field, and most likely military service. He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did if he wasn’t smart enough.

It might not always seem that way though, but that’s because he excels in thinking on the fly, which is so important when you’re dealing with intergalactic crises springing up every Tuesday. He’s the guy who will jump right into danger and trust that he can get himself out afterwards. We’ve seen him think his way out of tricky situations before, even if in his own crazy style like jumping out of a plane to recharge his ring from the head of a Manhunter. In some circles he’s kind of gotten the reputation of being the lame one in the Justice League, which can’t possibly be true when he has a ton of amazing feats to him like defeating Sinestro multiple times, killing Krona despite the fact that a GL ring shouldn’t be able to kill a Guardian, controlling the death entity Nekron to defeat the reality-bending First Lantern, making a ring out of his own willpower… etc.

So if he isn’t actually an idiot, where did this reputation come from? The ring chooses according to willpower and technically, not being bright shouldn’t make anyone less worthy, but this trait has kind of been blown up over the years to the point where some people are getting “dumbass energy” mixed with “actual dumbass”. Going back to the silver age, Hal definitely had a clumsy streak – we’ve all laughed at the panels like him slipping over in the shower and knocking himself out. It was pretty endearing though, watching this walking disaster still manage to save the day.

I feel like some of that was lost in later comics as he grew up, and when Johns brought him back even later, he was more like the cool, cocky pilot type (although still a disaster in other areas lol). The thing is, because of his nature of jumping into danger it sometimes seems like he really can’t think for himself, but that’s not the case. It’s just his style to go in guns blazing, shining bright and attracting all the attention away from whoever’s he’s saving and onto him. It’s true that it doesn’t always work out as well as he hopes, and that makes for some fun stories, but other times his quick instincts are lifesaving.

It wasn’t until the New 52 where this really got blown up though – while the GL comics continued mostly the same as before, other characters got rebooted so we got a whole new Justice League dynamic. A lot of people unfamiliar with GL know his New 52 version through the animated movies, and booooy…. this guy is basically Guy Gardner but less lovable, more insufferable and way less competent.

Of course this isn’t just limited to him, a lot of the Justice League members seem to be caricatures of themselves in this movie but I feel like he’s gotten it the worst. The Batman Syndrome doesn’t help either, where everyone’s dumbed down and nerfed to make him look like the biggest BAMF on the League. You have a guy who literally works with aliens everyday but of course only Batman’s tech can identify an alien device as a bomb! There’s also the ring-stealing gimmick, which is stupid because a Green Lantern is always bound to their ring through concentration – to remove it they literally have to disengage their minds from it first. I don’t know, maybe there’s a retcon or something but it’s still dumb. He even does this to John Stewart in JL Dark – that’s crossing the line :’P

Of course you could say JL War was early days and he hadn’t been a GL that long, but it doesn’t get much better in the other films and it’s no excuse for crossing into annoying asshole territory. It’s a difficult balance to strike and boy can you tell when a writer only has surface-level knowledge of his character…

Yikes. Sure he can be a cocky flirt – so was Han Solo – but he was actually likable!!

Sadly this trend of making Hal more and more of a comic relief man-child outside of comics continues, you’ve got kids watching him in DC Superhero Girls thinking that’s the definitive take on him, and we’re not getting a new GL movie any time soon to really delve into the character, whether animated or live action. Thankfully the animated series portrays him in a more positive light (although maybe they went a bit too far in flattening out his flaws, but that’s a post for another time) but that got cancelled so :/ Again I’m not well-versed in New 52 and Rebirth comics outside of GL yet but I have seen snippets of Justice League comics where it seems like he’s grown more into his old self, my favourite being his Darkseid War tie-in, which I really hope to see animated someday. Speaking of movies, the 2011 one certainly didn’t do him any favours – I actually think Reynolds did okay as Hal but when people look back on it, all they see is the Deadpool guy.

Anyway this is kind of going off on a tangent but still, it’s sad seeing so many comments joking about him being dumb and incompetent and that they should have used another lantern instead (I agree we need more of the other lanterns but not because Hal sucks), just because bad writing made him a caricature of his worst traits. When this happens to characters like Batman, tons of fans complain and come to his defence by calling out the writing, yet for Hal many just assume this is how he always is. In a world where Aquaman is actually getting some love, I really hope we can get a good adaptation for Hal soon.

TLDR;

Me: Oh Hal you dumbass

Someone: Ikr he’s such an idiot and a jerk I hate him

Me:

Me: What the fuck did you just say

[charismaandcashmere]

In the modern world, it often seems like it’s harder than ever to accomplish your goals.

It seems like everyone has already done the thing you want to do — that your idea is already out there, that your niche is beyond saturated.

Want to start a blog? You’re up against a million rivals. Thinking about starting a podcast? So is everyone else and their mom. Hoping to write a book? With the advent of self-publishing, you’re not only up against authors approved by major publishing houses, but anyone, anywhere, with a laptop. Want to become a YouTube star? Better hope you get noticed next to the thousands of other folks uploading new videos every day.

There’s seemingly a million graphic designers, a million wannabe filmmakers, a million other, probably more qualified candidates gunning for the same job you want.

And that’s just in the marketplace. In your personal life, the competition can feel equally fierce. In the days of yore, you were just competing against people in your college or church to win the attention of a lady. Now you’re up against every Tom, Dick, and Harry on Tinder. The dating marketplace hypothetically stretches beyond your community to encompass your whole state, maybe even the whole country.

Yes, in both economic and personal spheres, demand seems high, and resources seem scarce. It’s enough to make you decide to give up and not try in the first place.

Yet this feeling of scarcity is just an illusion, a myth.

In truth, there’s never been a more opportune time to live. Not only because it’s never been cheaper and easier to write a book, share your art, or start a business, but because the average person’s ability to execute on the basics has never been in such short supply.

While opportunities to achieve your goals aren’t as scarce as you think, there are areas where true scarcity does exist: in common sense, in social skills, in manners, in reliability. There’s a dearth of people who know, or have the will, to do the stupidly easy stuff to be charming and successful.

Let me give you just one example. Both off the air and on, guests of my podcast will tell me, “I can tell you actually read my book before this interview and I really appreciate that. It’s so rare.” I don’t bring this up to toot my own horn, but rather to point out how ridiculous it is that this might even be something worthy of mention! An interviewer reading someone’s work before asking them questions about it would seem like the barest of bare minimum job requirements — a prerequisite rather than something above and beyond. And yet the majority of podcasters aren’t even taking care of this most basic of basics.

There are tons of people doing what you want to do, but how are they executing? In 90% of cases, not as well as they could be.

That’s your opening. And such openings are absolutely everywhere.

To take advantage of opportunities, people typically concentrate on stuff like building up their resume — going to the best school or getting the right internship. And certainly, these things can help.

But what’s missed is that it’s often doing stupidly easy stuff that’s going to allow you to make friends and land your dream job. It’s doing the stupidly easy stuff that almost no one else is doing that can most readily set you apart from the pack, and up for success.

What is some of that stupidly easy stuff? Below you’ll find a (non-exhaustive) list of the things it’s hard to believe people don’t do more often, and which have a huge ROI because most people can’t be bothered.

1. Send a thank you text when you get home from a nice party/date. In my opinion, this is the #1 easiest and best way to be a more charming texter. Yet almost no one does it. When someone has you over for dinner, or you take someone out on a date, once you part ways, they typically worry a bit as to whether or not you had a good time. And a party host wants to know their effort to throw the shindig was appreciated. So even if you thank your date/host in person at the end of the evening, once you get home, shoot them a confirming text saying, “Thanks again for the delicious dinner. We had such a good time!” Trust me on this, it’s stupidly, stupidly charming.

2. Write handwritten thank you notes, always and often. When an occasion was especially nice, instead of sending a text, write the person a handwritten thank you note and stick it in the mail. And send handwritten thank you notes for anything and everything else. Received a gift? Thank you note. Job interview? Thank you note. Someone helped you move? Thank you note. Someone went to bat for you at work? Thank you note.

Thank you note writing has become such a lost art, and receiving snail mail is so delightful, that sending handwritten appreciation has become one of the most effective ways to set yourself apart from the pack.

3. Edit your emails/texts before sending. No one ever catches all of the spelling and grammatical mistakes contained within their communications, but giving your texts and emails a couple reads before you hit send will tighten things up. These “clean” missives significantly contribute to making a winning digital impression.

4. Know how to make small talk. We spend so much time behind screens, that when we finally meet people face-to-face, our conversation can often be awkward and stilted. But being comfortable with small talk opens a tremendous amount of doors; sure, it starts out with the superficial, but it’s the on-ramp to deeper discussions — the pathway to relationships with potential lovers, new friends, and future employers. Fortunately, once you know the simple methodology that makes small talk flow, it’s easy to master.

5. Don’t be a conversational narcissist. Related to the above. The only kind of talk many people know how to make these days, is about themselves. Someone who knows how to listen and ask good questions comes off as stupidly charming.

6. Don’t look at your phone during a conversation. In an age of scattered attention, a person who can concentrate their attention on you, and fight the urge to look at their phone while you eat or talk — someone who can make you feel like the most important person in the room — is a charmer par excellence.

Can’t seem to pry yourself away? Check out our complete guide to breaking your smartphone habit.

7. Dress well for a job interview. You don’t have to show up to a job interview in a three-piece suit (unless the position calls for it); overdressing can make as poor a first impression as under-dressing. But showing up dressed just one notch above what current employees at the company wear will immediately set you apart from many other candidates. Well-shined shoes, a pressed shirt, and good hygiene will help too.

8. Come to a job interview prepared to ask questions of the interviewer. Whenever we post this article on “10 Questions to Ask in a Job Interview,” HR folks always weigh in with how “amazed” they are at the number of candidates who stare blankly when asked at the end of an interview, “Do you have any questions for us?” Know some questions to ask going in.

9. Take a woman on a real date. In a landscape of “What’s up”? texts and non-committal hang outs, taking a lady on a real date puts you head and shoulders above other suitors. What constitutes a real date? Watch this video and remember the 3 P’s: Planned, Paired Off, and Paid For.

10. Offer a sincere apology when you mess up. My generation seems to struggle with saying “I’m sorry” when they make a mistake. Numerous times I’ve had my order messed up at a restaurant, and when I bring it to the attention of the waiter or manager, they just shrug, say “Okay,” and fix it, without saying, “I’m sorry about that.” Then the other day an order of mine got messed up, and the manager took a totally different tack — comping my whole meal and bringing me a free dessert. That kind of treatment is so rare, it was unbelievably winning. I even found the manager after my meal to tell her so, and let her know I would specifically make an effort to return because of her gesture.

As it goes in the restaurant biz, so it goes with everything else. Most of your fellow employees will just say “Okay” when an error is brought to their attention. Offering a sincere apology that demonstrates you take responsibility and understand where you messed up and how it affects the company, will easily set you apart (so will immediately trying to make it right and preventing it from happening again).

And in your personal life, apologizing when you stumble is stupidly endearing. You’ll probably mess up again, and often with the same issue, but even when you can’t completely overcome your flaws, showing you’re at least completely aware of them goes a long, long way.

11. Follow through. I get a lot of emails from guys who want to do something with the Art of Manliness, like write a guest article or strike up a business partnership. They are excited! They are passionate! They are…MIA. They never follow-up or follow-through on their idea. I’ve often wondered what happens between their excited initial email, and their descent into silence. But whatever it is, it can easily be avoided by those committed to following through.

12. Be reliable. No quality today can more readily set you apart from your peers than reliability. Doing the follow-through just mentioned. Showing up on time (and just plain showing up). Meeting deadlines. Managing expectations and not overpromising. Promptly responding to emails. Keeping your word.

Are freelance graphic designers, artists, video/audio editors, app developers, programmers, contractors, etc. a dime a dozen? Surely. But a reliable creative professional or handyman? A pink unicorn. If you couple talent and skill with reliability, it’s stupidly easy to dominate your competition and your niche.

When you survey the economic and dating markets, they can seem incredibly oversaturated. Demand seems high and resources seem scarce. But when you take a closer look, you’ll find that while there are plenty of people all grasping after the same thing, there are only a few executing well on the attempt. Setting yourself apart isn’t complicated or hard; it often involves simply doing the stupidly easy stuff that everyone else overlooks.

Their obtusity is your gain; see through the myth of scarcity, take care of the basics, and the world is your oyster.

[lucillebarker]

for the ask meme -- the scene at the beginning of chapter 2 of the lines we cross, in the parking garage, when jimmy gives kim the necklace + earrings!

EDIT: I just noticed it said the “beginning” of Chapter 2, but it also said when Jimmy gives Kim the necklace and earrings which is a little later. So I focused on the gift-giving itself. That said, I wanted to have Kim’s (upcoming) birthday be seemingly overshadowed by other events—George Hamlin’s retirement, Jimmy heading out of town. And I think in many ways that’s how Kim kind of prefers it. She wants to fly under the radar unless it has anything to do with her career.

“Just...” Kim stuttered to a stop, looking around as if an invisible audience was awaiting her reaction. She held out her cigarette between two fingers. “Here, let’s trade.”

It’s already fairly clear that Kim is uncomfortable with gifts. When Howard tells her not to worry about her debt after she puts in her notice, she has this reaction that is equal parts forced gratitude and discomfort. I mean, her version of a gift is a travel mug that says “World’s 2nd Best Lawyer”—I think gifts make her uncomfortable. I think she’s so used to taking care of herself that she would at least prefer to trade a cigarette and accept a birthday gift. So it says a lot that she’s willing to get a monogrammed briefcase and another “World’s 2nd Best Lawyer Again” mug.

Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. “Are you bartering for your own birthday present with a cigarette?”

“No, I’m bartering with my last cigarette, which is much more valuable currency.”

This is something I haven’t noticed before, but this banter works just as well if it’s flipped. I think there’s a tendency to write Kim as the “straight man” in the relationship between her and Jimmy, and I think it’s why it’s so important to write Kim with a sense of humor and playfulness. Especially when she’s trying to deflect during an uncomfortable conversation. People love quoting, “I’m casual yet luxurious,” but they don’t realize that Jimmy’s talking about houses... you know, that thing she never had or expected to have. 

Jimmy sighed, but followed her lead. He gently plucked the cigarette from her hold, his fingers grazing hers as he did so. His lips wrapped around the filter where her lipstick had stained the paper and took a drag. A current of want shot through her, but she covered it with a tight-lipped smile and taking the small box from him.

The goal here was to set up more angsty sexual tension. I was fairly certain at the time that this shared cigarette would be the closest the two would get to kissing in this chapter. But as I kept writing, that changed.

“Kim, one day you’re gonna have to learn to let people do nice things for you.”

“And it is not this day.”

Again, this is a woman that’s uncomfortable with people doing things for her. In fact, the title comes from after Kim’s car wreck and Jimmy is on ONE with making breakfast, making her drink Gatorade, having her pills ready. “You’re not feeding me, Jimmy. There are lines we do not cross.” Kim is suspicious of love and affection, but also desperately craves it. It’s a theme I like returning to (see, Sister Golden Hair).

He blew smoke threw his nostrils, chuckling at her as she sniffed at him. He knew she hated it when people did that—“you’re not some fucking cartoon dragon, it’s weird”—and she returned her focus to the box. She opened the box, pulling the top until the cardboard hinge bent back. Inside, on a small bed of padding, was a small geometric charm attached to a thin, gold chain accompanied by two earrings shaped into triangles with sharp points. The jewelry was simple by the standards of most. But it was perfect for Kim.

There is a moment somewhere in the first or second season where smoke comes out of Jimmy’s nostrils, and I that’s something that I wanted to bring into this fic. It’s such a guy thing, and I may have been projecting my own thoughts about it on Kim. (Doesn’t that burn? Why would you blow smoke out of your nose on purpose?)

Also, this is where the reveal of the iconic jewelry set comes in. Kim doesn’t wear it that often (or at all) in season one, and they would have to be decent quality if they aren’t tarnished by 2002. But I’d like to think that Jimmy would know what Kim’s style is, and if he’s going to spend a decent amount of money on anybody, he’d add to his credit card debt for Kim. 

“Jimmy…”

“Look, I know,�� he interrupted, ready to prevent whatever train of thought was going through her head. “I know you don’t like making a big deal out of your birthday and you’d prefer it if nobody knew at all, but I saw this and I thought it was... well, I just thought it was something you’d like. And you shouldn’t have to wait until you’ve got a law license and you’re making partner at this place to be treated like you’re something special.”

Jimmy McGill is the king of hyping his future girlfriend/wife up. But with the people he loves, he’s always sincere and caring. 

Kim closed the box, and looked back to Jimmy. He waited, sincerity and earnestness lining his features. Then the silence went a touch too long and he shifted into the lighthearted charmer he had been at the party.

Jimmy McGill is also the king of anti-silent moments and, like Kim, wanting to deflect awkward or serious moments with humor. Totally unrelatable! 👀 

“I want you to know that it was really hard for me not to pick out those cheap necklaces that say ‘best friends’ when you put the pieces together. You know, the ones that look like broken hearts when they’re apart? I thought you’d be ‘best,’ I’d be ‘friends.’ But then I remembered everyone here would be so jealous the firm would be when they found out I wasn’t their best friend, and I just couldn’t run the risk—”

I think that this is honestly a self-deprecating joke. Jimmy doesn’t have any friends in Albuquerque outside of Kim. He has a moment of disbelief when Ernie calls him a friend after the latter lies to Chuck at the hospital. His interactions with everyone are very surface level. I think it comes from this fear that everyone is judging him. So there are layers to the childish “best friends” necklace joke.

Kim stepped to him and stopped his chattering with a kiss. It was a short and sweet thing. It was the kind of kiss that showed gratitude and affection. Nothing had to be read into it. Still, as she pulled away, she couldn’t ignore the shock and confusion on Jimmy’s face. Something harder to ignore was the glimmer of hope in his expression.

This kiss honestly surprised me. I was planning on waiting one or two more chapters, but it seemed so natural for Kim to let emotions take hold for a brief second. And it’s also a juxtaposition to what was initially set up in the first chapter as something more lust-driven—I do think that Kim is somewhere on the demisexual side of the asexual spectrum where it truly is more frustratingly sexual rather than sexually frustrating. But the core of it is this emotional connection to this man that clearly cares for her and wants to give her a set of earrings and make her laugh. And that’s terrifying for her. 

[anneimaginesundertale]

Mafiafell Headcanons

Let me introduce you to a couple of new fellas in town -- Sans “Smiley” Gaster and his brother, Papyrus “Grim” Gaster, aka the Mafiafell bros! 

———————————————————————

These guys are from the past, but not the 20s like the MT bros. I see them as more 1930s or 1940s types, maybe...I don’t have all their background info figured out but I’m working on it...

Unlike the Mobtale bros, whose “mob” activities mostly involved secretly selling magic at a time when it was prohibited (basically helping to run a magical speakeasy out of Grillby’s), these two were more involved in actual crimes.  In their own time, they ran a shady casino where the deck was always stacked in the house’s favor, as well as pushing magical food and drink and other...items...through the place.  Once in the UT timeline, they managed to find their way to Las Vegas and take over a monster-run casino to start their racket all over again.  No one is sure what happened to the previous owners. 

Smiley’s nickname was actually his nickname in his own timeline too, because of that big old grin he’s got. Grim would have preferred his nickname to be called Boss, since that’s what he was used to being called in his own world, but UF Papyrus claimed it first and a fight between the two actually led to UF Paps winning.  (They’ll both tell you that they were equally matched and that they agreed to let UF Paps have the nickname. In truth, Boss just barely beat him.) It was Boss who came up with the nickname Grim, short for Grim Reaper. The two remain friends, although no one is quite sure how.

———————————————————————

Smiley is a charmer.  You know that certain way of writing UF Sans as a charming flirt (instead of an adorable nervous wreck like I tend to write him?)  Yeah, that’s Smiley.  He is a smooth son of a gun and he knows what he likes.  If what he likes is you, then he’s going to use every ounce of that charm to win you.  And if he only gets one night with you, well, that’s fine with him, sweetcheeks.  He’s rarely serious about anyone (or anything).  Good times don’t come around too often, so he’ll take them whenever he can get them. 

Of course, underneath that smooth shell is the adorable nervous wreck of a Fell Sans. His nervousness tends to manifest as paranoia.  He’s constantly watching everything and everyone around him. For all his charm and bragging, a good sincere compliment will get him blushing, and a gentle touch — a hand on the arm or a brush of the fingers over his skull — will have him shooing you away before you can see how much he likes it. Unlike Red, he is very good at using words to express feelings...except when those feelings are real. If he genuinely cares for you, all his poetry is replaced with fumbling attempts to tell you how much he cares. There’s a part of him that is always afraid of losing, even when he’s won fair and square.

———————————————————————

Grim is as serious as his brother is...not serious.  While Smiley takes the spotlight and charms people out of their money, Grim is in the background, counting their earnings and investing them in other things.  He prefers to stay behind the scenes.  It builds him up as a menacing figure so that, when someone is inevitably dragged into his office for not paying their debt or counting cards or whatever, there is true terror in meeting Grim, the Grim Reaper, the skeleton behind it all.  He loves being feared.  

And of course, our terrifying Grim is also...a giant dork.  Seriously, he can be adorkable.  He actually really likes all the math and the technical aspects of running a casino (even a crooked one). He does all the accounting himself. Upon reaching this timeline, he taught himself about modern security systems and he loves the security cameras. Watching the cameras is one of his favorite things to do. He can see everything! This led him to a fascination with photography and film. He also really likes jigsaw puzzles and is very fast at them.

———————————————————————

These two are all business when they’re at work. Smiley works for Grim and is the only one to still refer to him as Boss. (He calls UF Papyrus “Captain” or “Edge” or “Boss Jr.” depending on his mood and whether he feels like getting into a fight.) If you ran into them at work because you got into a bit of trouble, you’d think they were just boss and lackey. At home, though, they actually have a decent brotherly relationship. It’s been a bit rocky — a lot of secrets came out after the Incident — but they generally have that Sans and Papyrus banter we all know and love. Smiley loves to tease his brother, and his brother doesn’t like to be teased, and it usually ends in a play fight. Think this video.

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I have had this post sitting in my drafts since after New Year’s, waiting to see if I had anything to add on or improve. I think they’re ready, though, so here you go! Feel free to send character asks for these guys, or prompts, or whatever. I’m excited to have them around! 😊

(Special shoutout to @helpmeimawkwardbutfun , who sent in a kiss ask for MF Sans and spurred me to action.)

[grislyintentions]

“Such a charmer.” Had it been anyone else speaking to her in such a manner, it would no doubt lead to some suspicion on Candace’s part. After all, many a treasure hoarder have attempted to sweet talk the guards into allowing them entry on multiple occasions. But this was Cyno; a man she had never known to lie to her. Whose single minded pursuit of justice rings as true as the pursuit of truth. Affection grows within her heart in the form of quiet elation. It is equally exhilarating as it is terrifying how his mere presence instills such a strong thrill. Was this what those cheesy romance novels describe as ‘being swept off one’s feet’?

“Then…Welcome home, Cyno.”

Her sentiment lies in her sincere greeting and the curve of her smile. How she adores him. He’s warm to the touch; Resolve reflected in his sharp gaze. She decides she likes the intensity of it when it falls upon her form. Each part of him- the bridge of his nose, his jawline, the shape of his ears, his shoulders, his hands…all of the unique traits that make him the man he is, she attempts to commit them to memory.

Though curious, Candace patiently waits for her companion to convey his thoughts. They have all the time in the world- at least in this moment- she does not feel the need to rush. And when he moves to fold her into an embrace instead, the Guardian found the answer to what she’d been seeking.

“Oh.” A soft sigh escapes. Initial surprise subsides into a comfortable contentment. She adjusts so as to lean her face against his chest, an arm loosely encircling Cyno’s side. Pressed this close, it does not take long for the Guardian to feel the rapid thumping of her companion’s heart. It draws a quiet chuckle. She reaches for one of his hands and gently guides it close to her, resting it right above where her own heartbeat is situated.

It is similarly quick but as she draws breath, one can physically feel the beats gentle into an eventually even rhythm. Me too. Reassurance is silently conveyed. Me too.

[46ten]

Henry Knox and Lucy Flucker Knox, part 1

Mini-summary of The Revolutionary War Lives and Letters of Lucy and Henry Knox by Phillip Hamilton. 

Historian P. Hamilton has transcribed and published the approx.150 remaining letters between Henry Knox and Lucy Flucker Knox, his wife. Part of the Gilder Lehrman Collection, the letters most extensively cover the period 1776-1778, with a few more from 1779 and 1781. Hamilton notes that alongside the letters between John and Abigail Adams, the Knoxes letters to each other provide one of the few opportunities to observe a written dialogue between spouses during the revolutionary war period.  If one wants to imagine the language in the letters Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton wrote her fiancé/husband, Lucy Flucker Knox's letters are a fantastic resource. There was only a year age difference between the women, and both grew up in established, wealthy families (Albany vs. Boston).  

Henry Knox was born in 1750 in Boston. His father was a financially struggling shipmaster who sailed to the West Indies and died in 1759. With the additional deaths of his two oldest brothers, Henry had to abandon his formal education and support the family at an early age. He got a job as a clerk in a bookstore; with an interest in books on military science and artillery, he joined Boston's Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company in 1768. Hamilton (the author) describes him as, "ambitious, eager to rise above the hardships of his youth, and supremely confident in himself....he always dressed in the most elegant suits he could afford, and he remained fastidious about his appearance throughout his life." Henry lost two fingers on his left hand in a 1773 hunting accident, but concealed this injury throughout his life with a silk handkerchief.  

In 1771, Knox opened his own bookstore, the "London Book-Store," possessing "a large and elegant assortment of the most modern Books in all branches of Literature, Arts and Sciences" according to an advertisement that year in the Boston Gazette.  He regularly engaged his customers with discussions on the topics of the books within; he especially liked to discuss military science and engineering, but he also began to learn other languages and kept himself au courant with the knowledge and ideas of the day.  As one can see, he was largely self-educated. He was also a "gentleman."  After his bookstore was raided and destroyed by British soldiers, he nevertheless made the final 1000 pound payment for a shipment of books from London that he never received, out of his sense of propriety and duty. 

Thomas Flucker Sr was the Royal Secretary for the Massachusetts Colony and a wealthy merchant who married Hannah Waldo, daughter of Brig. Gen Samuel Waldo*, in 1750. Lucy was born on August 2, 1756 (making her only a year and a few days older than Elizabeth Hamilton).  

It's not certain when the teenage Lucy Flucker first laid eyes on Henry Knox - she may have seen him in military demonstrations or at the bookstore, but in 1773 she began spending so much time at his bookstore that a relative commented that it seemed she was courting him.  

As Hamilton writes, "[t]wenty-three-year-old Henry Knox cut an impressive figure - physically large and fit, and officer in the city's elite militia company, and a witty and knowledgeable conversationalist on most subjects. Thus he seemed to be a dashing and attractive catch...Like most young couples in the mid-eighteenth century, love and physical attraction were increasingly important - indeed, vital - to a courtship's success...As [Lucy] most likely realized, the emotional and material quality of a woman's life was largely determined by the decisions she made during courtships. Therefore, beyond her obvious infatuation, Lucy surely considered Knox's ability to support her and any future children they might have together." Henry was industrious, ambitious, intelligent, and a gentleman - qualities that mattered more than being "well-bred." "Nor could [Henry] help but notice her family's lofty social position and considerable wealth..." Henry let Lucy take the lead in getting her father's consent to their marriage:

HK to Lucy Flucker, 7March1774

What news? Have you spoken to your father, or he to you upon the subject? ...I am in a state of anxiety, heretofore unknown. My only consolation is in you, and in order it should be well grounded permit me to beg two things of you with the greatest ardency. Never distrust my affection for you without the most rational and convincing proof. If you do not hear from me in a reasonable time do not lay it to my want of love, but want of opportunity; and do not, in consequence of such distrust, omit writing to me as often as possible. My love is, as it were, in its infancy. It will increase to youth, it will arrive at the most perfect manhood, it will grow with such a steady brightness that if the youth of both sexes do not esteem it their chiefest glory to come and light their tapers at it, want of discernment must be the reason...

Henry was 24 and Lucy was 17 at the time of their marriage on 23 June 1774, at Henry's house. Although her father had eventually consented (after encouragement from her other relatives), neither of her parents attended. Lucy and Henry fled Boston in April 1775; Henry joined the militia army, and the rest is history. (Or rather, if one is interested in Henry Knox's participation in military campaigns during the AmRev, wikipedia is a start.  One note though: Knox's famed artillery train from Ticonderoga occurred when Knox was a mere 25 years old - certainly such feats were in AH's head when he was approaching 25 and had no comparable glorious accomplishment.) Lucy's family fled to Britain shortly afterwards and cut off all contact with her. 

Henry wrote that Lucy made him, "the happiest of mortals" (to his friend, Henry Jackson, following his wedding to Lucy).  Lucy was also, "the animating object of my life." Besides being "My dearest Lucy," she's also addressed as: “My dearest hope, My dearest friend, My dearest tender friend, my dearest love, my lovely love, my best beloved, My dear dear wife, my dearest blessing of heaven, my charmer,” though once he writes, "I leave [off] the usual address at the head of my Letter because I can fix upon none the thousandth part strong enough to convey the Idea of the strength of my attachment & love to you,” HK to LFK, 6Apr 1777.

To Lucy, Henry was, "My only love, my only friend, My Ever Dear Harry, My dearest friend, My all."  

One of the themes P. Hamilton presents is that the challenges that spouses faced during the AmRev, especially wives with long-absent husbands, led to a sense of greater equality between men and women.  Lucy was left in charge of financial management of what she could obtain of her family's affairs - and manages without Henry.  At one point, Lucy decided on a course of action that Henry disagreed with (so much for the stupid thought that wives were absolutely obedient to their husbands); Henry pleads with her to follow his advice instead as, "your Best Friend, your Lover, and blessed by Heaven to be your Husband..."  They are certainly an example of the companionate marriage ideal: marriage as a partnership between best friends, strengthened by their attraction and physical intimacy. 

There's a lot of great information in their letters about American Rev activity, patriotism and American grievances re. Britain, smallpox inoculations, the ins and outs of other generals and their wives (Caty Greene is mentioned frequently), and eventually their children's education and Lucy's concerns about their financial stability. Henry shared a great deal of information with Lucy not only about his day-to-day life, but about military plans and ambitions (as was prudent - many letters mention the fear of miscarry and falling into enemy hands). There are more surviving letters from Henry to Lucy than the other way round  - Lucy's letters were likely lost by Henry as he traveled with the army. 

The below quote from Lucy summarizes as well as anything I've read why EH likely destroyed her own letters to her husband:  

29 or 30 April 1776. L to H

 I should long before this have indulged myself in the pleasure of writing to him who is allways in my thoughts, whose image is deeply imprinted on my heart and whom I love too much for my peace, but the fear that the language of a tender wife might appear ridiculous to an impartial reader (should it miscarry) has restrain'd me. Is my Harry well. Is he happy. No, that cannot be when he reflected how wretched he has left me. I doubt not, but the please of his little girl, as he used fondly to call me, must sometimes draw a thought from him tho surrounded with gaiety and scenes of high life. The remembrance of his tender infant must also greatly affect him when he considers it as so great a distance from its Father, its natural guardian in a place exposed to an enraged enemy and almost defenceless.  

2 May 1776. H to L 

I sigh for my love. I think of her night & day & I wish her here, but dread the fatigues of the Journey. I am extremely chagrin'd that I received no letters from her by the last post. What can be the reason? But my love did not know I am being at New York, she must have thought me on the road. 

28 Aug 1776 H to L 

Dear Girl, how much I love you. War will bring peace and bye & bye we will live together, enjoying the felicity & happiness of each other's society 'till time walk us to immortal happiness.  Kiss my babe for me & Believe me to possess a sincere affection for you as it is possible for a mortal to do.

In his letters, Henry also asks for, “intelligence concerning the dear pledge of our mutual affections,” [little Lucy Knox], and later refers to their children as, "dear little images.”

After rising to the position of Major Gen., Knox resigned his commission in 1784 and became Secretary of War in 1785, continuing in this position in Washington’s cabinet. Most of his duties revolved around "Indian Affairs."  At some point, he also comes to weigh over 290 pounds (Lucy reached around 250 pounds.) Tied up with his various business ventures (x, x), he did not participate in the suppression of the Whiskey Rebellion; AH became acting Secty of War in Knox's place.  [HK and AH were good friends - well, besides that matter of their rank in 1798. Their wives likely were also, or at least shared the same social circle. The Knox and Hamilton children shared tutors at times. HK is the author of the letter informing AH of EH’s likely miscarriage in 1794.] Knox retired the position in Jan 1795 and he and Lucy settled in the Maine frontier and were hated by most of their neighbors, to the point of armed conflict. (Maine settlers found Knox to be aristocratic - Henry Knox is the inspiration for Hawthorne's Col Pyncheon in The House of the Seven Gables. It's a useful reminder, in this age of Founders Chic, how rapidly the vision of the Founders was rejected by the American people.)  Henry choked on a chicken bone, developed an infection, and died in 1806.  Only three of their 13 children survived to adulthood, and Lucy lived alone in their home until her own death in 1824. 

To be cont’d

*Henry and Lucy eventually became landowners of part of her grandfather’s large patent of land, once called the Waldo patent, in what would become Maine. They later sold it to William Bingham.

[arabellaflynn]

The Ballroom-And-Random-Other-Things Dancer has inquired whether I'd be willing to trade hoop lessons for ballroom lessons. I am trying to decide how happy I ought to be. I believe he sincerely thought it was a good idea when it emerged from his mouth. Many things emerged from his mouth over the three-weekend run of the show. He is charmingly loquacious and there is little he is not curious about. One night I tracked him down after the show and found him on the deserted stage, being so helpful that I had to tow him off by the elbow to let the crew clean up in peace. I was also once regaled with the long-form version of the theme song to a French-language cowboy show he recalled from his youth. Those of you who hang around STEM people will be unsurprised to hear that, before he racked up all the IMDb credits, he did his undergraduate degree in mechanical engineering. Lots of wonderful people thought trading hoop lessons for ______ lessons was a great idea when they said it. I spent 2017 trying unsuccessfully to follow up on it. Any of it. You know how people say, "Do it for yourself"? This has been my every hobby since birth. I do plenty of things for myself. I didn't cram Japanese into my head because I wanted everyone to ooh and aah. I did it because it annoyed me that there were things in Japanese out in the world, and I couldn't read them. You lot don't know 95% of the things I get up to, because I'm entertaining myself and I can't be bothered to write it all out. Not all things are like this. Dance is literally a performance art. You dance for someone to watch. Maybe that someone is you, in the mirror. I've gotten sick of this. Maybe that someone is the other students in your dance class. I am rubbish in classes for procedural/pedagogical reasons and avoid them like the plague. Mostly that someone is an audience, either of random people who watch dance or of other dancers who probably know what they're doing. A few randoms have seen me with a hoop, ranging from friends to the odd five-year-old waiting for their ballet class to start. People who don't know how to dance apparently think I'm impressive. But it's easy to impress someone who doesn't have the skill you're demonstrating. Everything looks hard when you can't do it yourself. I can probably get myself on stage if I really try. The place I work is big on community shows. Depending on which one(s) I apply to, the threshold is anywhere between 'professional quality' and 'trying reasonably hard'. One of my friends once suggested that if I wanted to perform so badly, I should just produce my own show. I hate this idea. Aside from the fact that I do not want this to be one more thing that I goddamn have to goddamn do my goddamn self because no one else can be relied upon, it's not what I want. The point is not that I want to be in the spotlight. That's easy.  I have been informed that I have many talents, and if I keep submitting myself for consideration someone will eventually want me as an employee. The point is that I want to be a part of something. I don't want to start my own club. I want someone to want me in theirs. I want acknowledgement from the other dancers. I want them to decide that, while I might not know their skill, I clearly have a skill, or at least I might have some sort of skill at something or another, and it might be something that makes me worth working with. I have asked people if they want to trade brain-toys and see if we can make something together. I have been offered the trade, several times. I follow up. I offer specific times, and tell them that if none of those work they can have a look at the rest of my schedule and see if something else will. I am friendly, I am enthusiastic, I give compliments that I really mean and I tell them what makes me want to work with them. No one has followed through. I've gotten a couple of people to agree to be my student. It's lovely being acknowledged as enough of an expert to teach others, but it's not the same thing as having someone I already think is pretty nifty at this treat me like an equal. Eight hundred people are about to come out of the woodwork to tell me that other peoples' flakiness is not a referendum on me. Bullshit. It's not a pronouncement on my overall worth as a human, no. What it is a referendum on is how important doing things with me is to them, which is evidently 'not very'. About six hundred of those people are now about to suggest that I go do whatever it is by myself. I already do this. I am tired of it. I am tired of being by myself all the time. You know when you were a kid, you and your friends entertained yourselves out on the playground with those clapping games? Or double Dutch jump rope rhymes? (Or maybe you didn't. Those were girls-only when and where I was a child. But you probably saw the girls do that, if you didn't do it yourself.) Ballroom dance -- and pretty much any other kind of dance you get up to with a partner or a troupe -- is just the grown-up version of that. I have a pattern to move in; you have a pattern to move in; the object is to get those patterns to interact to make a bigger one. It is one of the few things in life that is physically impossible to do by yourself, no matter how determined you are. I have spent a year trying to get someone to play with me. I really want this to work out. The loquacious charmer announced one night that he needed to warm up and promptly swept up the nearest girl-type person to do it, which happened to be me. And it worked. That never works. I have literally no idea what my feet were doing, and can't even reconstruct it from memory, but I have high hopes that if it keeps working I'll figure it out, and possibly be able to transfer this skill to dancing with other people. But this depends on getting both of us together in the same room at the same time for more than five minutes with fewer than twenty other things we both need to be doing simultaneously. And with my luck,  that will be the point where a giant meteor hits the planet and obliterates human civilization. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2BrjaJx via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

[flashteenzwrites]

23 August 2019

Exactly 2 year ago on this day, is kinda where these stories of mine start.

It was a winding, convoluted road to how I eventually got about to re-writing this repurposed almost-Insta-caption but a-tad-too-divulgent amalgam of mini essays that sought to (try to) briefly recount my tales of woe and rebuild across the worst days of my life. Borders on dry and uninspired but I guess it is what it is. If you’re free peruse and look around, maybe, if you want to. I hope you might somehow like it and I’d be thrilled if you do :> Also perfectly fine if you don’t <3

Just over a year ago, I lucked out in the face of the world, somehow ending up down familiar, winding roads, bypassing road-signs of old, just to find myself once again before the literal gates of my past, to find myself back to where it all began. Being posted to NCC had me like a mixed bag. There was the disbelief, the nostalgia and the sweet, sweet relief. Above all though, probably was the solace.

Admittedly, then, I’d spent the better of the previous 2 years plagued by incessant bouts of agony, anxiety, you name it. I’d hit the lowest points in my life, spiralling into asphyxiating caverns and crevasses where I figured I’d finally meet my timely end; to relent to the unrelenting.

When a kid with a life history of having absolutely nothing to live for, knowing no real, deep sense of Love or Home finds his first ever bastion of belonging, a place to come back to, a place ever-forgiving, ever-understanding that never bat an eye or shook a frown in his direction, gets all that stripped of him? He had no identity, and so these faces, these people, were what he chose to live for. This Home was what he decided defined his passion, drive, meaning, purpose and Identity. And over time, when that fragile sense of selfhood and Identity shatters, worse even, perceivably walks away, leaves him to die- I sat, for so many days, atop this ivory throne of shame, to routinely question and confront the very things that defined me, or the lack thereof. Beyond the drapery and the guise of societally expected normalcy, all sense of hope, purpose, meaning, identity, all became naught but some eroded, bygone yardstick of the past; a victim to expectations, betrayal, myself.

If these people were what defined you, when they walk away, then what are you, really? Who else do you have to live for?

It finally hit rock bottom on 23 August 2017. Lows and depths Daylight could only ever dream of glancing. But what happened happened, and eventually I began my journey.

As fate had it, by some immaculate sense of design or an inconceivable, other-worldly happenstance, came the self-realisation that the fall just wasn’t worth the journey here. I’d been at the end of my rope, and so with eyes red, tears trickling, feet quaking and nails sinking in the dirt I hurtfully looked back at my past. For all my former self has bled, sweat and teared through, he didn’t deserve to go this way. Looking inwards, if I had no one else, all I had to live for, to make proud, was the former me, this absolute ghost of who I used to be, of who I wanted to keep being. And so it became my mantra, a daily prayer, that someday, “I’ll make you proud.”

There was still so much more to keep moving forward for, so much more of the world out there, and so began the indeterminably long road to recovery, repair, enlightenment, transcendence and growth. Cutting off toxicities, burying past baggage, looking beyond the shit-show of the present, rediscovering passions were all baby steps to reintroducing positivity and revolutionising all I lived for. It wasn’t easy, slowly dragging myself, crawling, limping, staggering through sidewalks of old, pavements dotted with dandies, charmers and get-totes-fucked-quick schemes as the muffling echoes of seething contempt and prejudice fold in on themselves in the distance.

Indeed, nobody said it’d be easy, but damn the scars I’d been forced to freeze over and the emotions I’d had to steel up.

Every dodge calculated and every vault planned out as I meandered through this hedge-maze life of love behind quasi-lies and betrayal behind fraudulent promises. Every “hi” a doubtful, fatal leap of faith, every “I’ll be there for you” a coin toss with the Reaper.

It wasn’t as effortless as Taylor poeticised it to be, my suit of armour rusted and bent at the seams, imperfect and unpolished. But try, and try, and try to get better I did.

Relapse was routine, staggers, falls, slip-ups and tumbles my morning coffee, caution, distancing and a fear of intimacy my very own brand of scrambled eggs.

But I digress. Let me (very) smoothly segue into the uphill part of my reflection.

It was honestly beyond me that the same kid, months ago armed with nothing but a hopelessly hopeful promise of someday making himself proud, would be standing where he is now, his voice each day growing louder and more confident, chanting a slightly different mantra; "I'm making you proud".

Holding on to nothing but that absolutely pointless self-promise that someday, things’ll get better- that someday, I’ll get better. That it’ll all would’ve been worth it, that someday I’d find a home, family, love so pure, genuine, sincere, immaculate, forgiving and imperfectly perfect that every memory, every stinging reminder of where I’ve been would be indistinguishable from myth. It was limitlessly sadistic in how contrastingly honest, genuine, vulnerably sincere though futile it was amidst such a nihilistic, tormenting world of apathy. I’m still clueless as to how but I guess the trauma had been so inversely great as to have driven me to such delicate, fragile, soft, personal bastions of hope recessed beyond the fringes of public eyes.

But damn if the world ever fails to surprise.

Because I have the many faces I’ve come to know since coming to NCC, since going through NS to thank for what I’ve now learnt. People I’ve come across that’ve helped me remember, that’ve helped me understand what love the world out there is still capable of. Everyone’s gone through their own rainstorm, subject to their own circumstances and hands in life, and it’s all so beautifully made them who they are today- and to continue to stay kind and loving and genuine in spite of all that?

I’m grateful, for the heroes, the role models, even the traitors, eventual liars and backstabbers, villains and I guess people who were never really meant to stay for long. I’m thankful for all anyone’s taught me, for all it’s done for me to stand taller, stronger than where I was then, each passing day. Letting go of those never meant to stay, holding on to those who are. Knowing boundaries, knowing sincerity, knowing when’s The End and when’s just a Chapter 2. I thank the world for what it’s reminded and taught me. I wouldn’t be who I was today if not for every single one of you reading this.

But remember that Life is worth Living, and that The World out there has so much left to live for. The Rain comes but so will the Daylight, because Life’s always been the bitchy Roller Coaster that it is. And *The Pain* is only ever what you make it. It’s only as hurtful, unavoidable, unforgivingly dangerous and irrecuperable as what you let it be. It’s only equal to what you choose to take away from it. You’re not your mistakes, you’re not damaged goods for what you’ve gone through, and damn well not solely the product of your circumstances. You will weather countless Rainstorms, but when you choose to stand and walk on in spite of it, that’s when you come out the wiser, the stronger, the better for it.

So keep picking yourself up, keep standing, keep moving forward for those worth it. Remain vulnerable and yet unweathered, remain forgiving and yet uncompromisingly self-preserving, remain sincere and yet unbothered. You choose the battles worth fighting, the phone numbers worth memorising, the smiles worth Living On for. You’ll know that The Trick to Holding On was all that Letting Go.

Remember the Love the World out there is still capable of. Stay kind and stay gentle. Keep loving and keep living. And keep that hope for a better day.

Love Only

[andreasunny]

Checkmate (James Potter)

Fandom: Harry Potter (Marauders Era)

Pairings: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: fluff, James smirking a tad too much

“Aaand that’s checkmate.” 

You smirked slightly as you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. Your opponent seemed - in a word, utterly devastated. You seemed to be on a winning streak, although nobody could deny that you were definitely the Wizarding Chess champion of your year - hell, maybe even the best player in the whole school.

Not that you advertised it much.

“You cheated.” 

The sullen teenage boy sitting across from you complained, mirroring your actions, except for the deep frown that marred his handsome face. 

“There’s no way you can win eight games in a row.” He grumbled, his voice increasing in volume.

“I most definitely didn’t cheat, Black. You lost, and that’s all there is to it.” You replid back in an uninterested voice, sounding extremely bored, even though you were cracking up on the inside. Sirius Black was a fun opponent, but there was no way he could beat you. Actually, in that moment, it seemed like nobody could. You were feeling invincible.

“She’s right, Padfoot.” Remus’ ever-so-logical voice reached your ears. “I’m afraid there’s no way she cheated. Not with all of us watching her.”

Sirius huffed, and reluctantly started handing out money to the people he owed. There was no way in hell that he would bet against himself, and now, because of his pride, he’d ended up considerably poorer than he was when he started. Not really something you wanted to happen.

But speaking of pride, Sirius was not the only one who was full of it. Though you thought James Potter was worse.

Much worse.

And it didn’t help that he was ridiculously attractive, and even if you’d never admit it, you did have a rather huge crush on the boy. Not that you had any chance with the most popular guy at school. That was too far-fetched to even daydream about. Although you couldn’t help but occasionally dream about what it would be like to kiss that trademark smirk off his face.

A smirk that seemed to be noticeably absent, you realised, as you glanced at the handsome young man, a little surprised that he had no smart-alec comment to make about his best friend’s loss. He had a rather serious expression on his face, as though he were contemplating on something. But then you noticed the familiar glint in his eyes again. In fact, it almost seemed like he was… planning something.

And when James Potter plans something, it can’t be good.

He looked directly into your eyes, a lazy smirk spreading across his features. Features you had all but memorised. He then sauntered towards you, leaving the wall he’d been leaning oh-so-casually on and you made sure to be busy talking to Sirius by the time he’d approached.

“Whatever, Black. You still have to clean my Potions equipment for a month. Because you lost. If you’d won, I’d have gone out with you as agreed.” You retorted firmly, watching the unruly teenager rake a hand through his equally wild hair in frustration as Remus chortled and Peter laughed nervously as it was his habit.

“Oh, Padfoot, move on. You lost, mate.” James chuckled, draping an arm over your shoulders. “But I did warn you that you didn’t have a shot. The absolutely horrible prospect of going on a date with you was enough motivation for her, wasn’t it?” He asked, then continued, not waiting for your reply. “She’d much rather go out with someone like me.”

“Uh, no thanks.” You object, pushing him away as you gathered your pieces together. Sirius laughed shortly.

“Quite the charmer, huh, Prongs?”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“Would you two quit it?” You and Remus said in perfect sync. Honestly, the two of them bickered like an old married couple, and it got on your nerves. Appearantly not just your nerves. There was a moment of awkward silence before you spoke.

“Well, gentlemen, it’s been fun, but I have work to do.” You spun on your heel and started walking away, already plotting how you would make Sirius’ task more difficult for him. The sound of footsteps echoing behind you forced you to turn around, and you raised your eyebrows as James rushed up to you.

“Yes, Potter? What do you want?”

“Play against me.” He blurted simply.

“For Black’s date? Forget it.” Your eyes rolled and you were walking away again, only to be tugged back by James’ hand wrapping around your arm.

“No.” He said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what I want when I win.”

“If you win.” You corrected him, folding your arms over your chest. “I beat Black eight times, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, but he’s not me.” James replied smugly, leaning in to whisper the words in your ear. You shivered unvoluntarily as you felt his hot breath on your skin. 

“I don’t intend to lose.”

He pulled away, a flirty grin now plastered on his face. The look suited him, and you could feel your heart beating a little faster. Damn him. You rolled your eyes at him, acting unimpressed.

“Fine then. Let’s play.”

He grinned in momentary triumph as the two of you sat down on one of the nearby windowsills. It was wide enough for the chess board to fit comfortably on it, and you grinned once the board was set.

The game, Mr. Potter, is on, you thought.

***

Forty minutes later, it was pretty obvious to you that you would win. 

James seemed to be rather desperate by now, you could tell that he knew that he was losing as well. In his panic, he was making reckless moves that you could easily counter. It was almost over by now, and you couldn’t help the flare of self-pride that shot through you as you almost all but cornered his king.

“Check.” You announced, leaning back, feeling rather relaxed. What could James do now? 

You watched him as his eyes scanned the board, almost chuckling at the frustrated look on his face. There was no way out for him now.

“You can give up, you know. I won’t make you do anything for losing.” You added kindly, almost feeling sorry for the poor lad.

“No.” He whined, sounding like a child. “You shouldn’t be so sure of yourself.” He remarked, moving his king out of danger.

“Look who’s talking.” You teased back. “Check.”

He let out a short growl of anger. One you found to be kind of adorable, actually, if the blush that spread across your face was any indication.

“Yes, but I have my reasons for being sure.” He said cryptically, and you were surprised to note that it wasn’t his king he moved, but his rook. And then you saw it.

“Check mate.” He finished, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, even if you weren’t looking at him.

“How?” You asked, bewildered. You’d lost. He’d been tricking you from the very beginning - all those moves you deemed to be reckless had actually been a part of his strategy, and you’d completely fallen for it. You were honestly furious at yourself.

“It’s amazing how much you can learn about your opponent in eight games. Now, about my reward.”

“You were watching closely.”

“Well yeah, I needed to win.” James was smirking so much you couldn’t look at his face anymore.

“What do you want?” You sighed, defeated.

“A kiss.”

“What?” You exclaimed, sure that you’d misheard him.

“A kiss. You know, that thing people do when they put their lips together and move them around and sometimes there’s tongue involved -”

“I know what a kiss is.” Your face turned beat red.

“Good. Then pucker up.”

“Wait a minute, I didn’t agree -” You began, only to be cut off by James’ lips as they collided with yours. For a moment, you were unable to do anything, but slowly you began to respond, tangling your hands in his messy brown hair as his cupped your face gently, almost tenderly.

Your lips moved together in sync, and he tasted like Butterbeer and something warm and familiar that you couldn’t exactly place. He ran his tongue along your lower lip and you opened your mouth wider without even realising it. Your tongues battled for dominance, and he won easily, exploring your mouth leisurely before he pulled away.

You let out a mute sound of protest as he leaned back, moving back to his respective spot. Your cheeks were flushed - you could feel the warmth radiating from them. That was before you composed yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You demanded, trying to sound harsh but failing miserably.

“Part of my reward.”

“What do you mean part of your -”

“I also want you to consider being my girlfriend.” James cut in, looking at the ground. 

For the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t seem to be as confident as he normally was. The pink shade on his cheeks only proved to you that he was actually sincerely asking you. This was no crazy prank. James Potter actually looked… vulnerable.

You put away your chess pieces and stood up. His eyes shot to you, and you caught a flicker of hurt in them. 

You smiled reassuringly at him.

“I’ll think about it.” You promised, turning to return to your dorm. You stopped in your tracks after taking a few steps, then walked back to him.

“Don’t look so worried.” You smiled, leaning down and planting a swift kiss on his cheek. “Things are definitely in your favour.”

Even when you left, James was still grinning like a madman.

***

A week later, you glanced around nervously. James smiled at you, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Relax.” He murmured in your ear, pulling you forward and through the doors of the Great Hall. You’d finally agreed to be his girlfriend, and this was your first public appearance.

“Yeah, okay.” You mumbled, smiling back at him. He grinned, pecking you gently on the lips, and you blushed, not exactly used to having an audience. And the whole school was watching. You saw Sirius give James a thumbs up as Remus face palmed.

“And Sirius is okay with us?” You asked, a little surprised. He had expressed an interest in you, after all.

“‘Course he is. Who do you think asked him to play against you?” James asked, grinning widely. “He is my wingman, you know.”

You looked at him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Well, maybe not that lightly, but James didn’t mind.

“You little schemer.” You smirked, playfully scowling at him. “You planned the whole thing.”

“Of course I did. I’d have killed Paddy if he even so much as glanced at you.” James reassured, sounding offended.

“Idiot.” You said, shaking your head and smiling at him.

“Ah, I’m afraid I have to correct you… I’m your idiot.” He winked, capturing your lips with his own. And as the catcalls echoed around you, you could honestly say you didn’t care.

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