#like genuinely how do the cc’s come up with some of these lines they’re insane

[somebluemelodies]

i think a lot about the fact that some of the hardest, most emotional, or sweetest lines i’ve ever heard come from a block game roleplay

like you’re telling me i just got absolutely emotionally obliterated by a bunch of squares and rectangles ??? my heart just melted bc of fictional (gay) cubitos ??? insanity

[welllpthisishappening]

Want Something That Lasts Forever

The weight in his jacket pocket is getting heavier. Burning a hole. A metaphorical one. Because a literal one would probably freak David out and David is already worried enough and Killian is a very good friend. Who is willing to help David plan his proposal to Mary Margaret. Even if it messes everything else up in the process. 

----

Rating: T with a heavy dose of CC captain charming-esque feelz Word Count: Just over 5K AN: Today’s Festive Fic Prompt A Thon comes from another delightful anon and is: "i planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing." I’ve already done proposing at the same time, so here’s something a little different with an extreme influx of Captain Charming for good measure. And Narnia. For reasons. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || 

----

“You think we should get flowers?” Killian hums—far too distracted to be even remotely helpful and he doesn’t have to look up to know David is glaring at him. That’s been a theme for the last few hours. 

This has lasted several hours. 

Already. 

And he probably should have said no. 

He wanted to say no. He had every intention of saying now. But David and Mary Margaret had gotten to the city a few days before and David had that look this morning—some kind of wide-eyed, enthusiastic, nervous thing that made Killian exhale dramatically and he was agreeing before he realized what he was doing and Emma’s gaze had gone a little glossy when she realized what was happening. 

He considered that partially a win. 

Even if it lost him some friendship points.

“What kind of flowers do you think?” David presses, and Killian has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning. That’s also not great. As far as friendship goes. 

Because he figures this is pretty par for the friendship course. 

Helping. 

Planning. 

Helping to plan. 

A proposal. 

David is going to propose to Mary Margaret. At Christmas. And it will be extravagant and over the top and, Killian is sure, there will be several different types of flowers. Mary Margaret will very likely cry. 

She will definitely say yes. 

And that’s nice. It’s better than nice really, because Killian is only kind of an ass and something vaguely Grinch-like and the only reason for either one of those things is because—

“Seriously,” David snaps, Killian nearly flying off the couch when the word feels like it reaches out to smack him across the face. With romance. Of the holiday variety. “Are you ok?” “Yup.” “No, really.” “No, really,” Killian echoes, but David has known him long enough to know a blatant lie when he hears one. It probably does some slapping of its own. “Although I am admittedly a little confused by this we who is buying flowers. I’m not sure how I feel about donating to the monetary cause of your wedding.” “This is not the wedding.” Killian shrugs. 

“Do you have a romantic bone in your body?” David groans. That feels unfair. Killian doesn’t mention that. David is nervous enough already, he absolutely cannot cope with any sort of romance that involves Killian and his sister. 

Maybe Killian will start texting Emma updates of the day. She’d enjoy that. He’d enjoy that. He’d enjoy it more if he was with her and going through his own plans and his own vaguely Christmas-type hopes, but—

David appears to be growling. 

It’s very loud, whatever the sound is.

“Am I being a jerk about this?” David asks. He slumps forward when he mumbles the question, an obvious burst of nervous energy and Killian can’t help but feel for him. 

All things considered, proposing at any time is a little terrifying. But proposing at Christmas — with their friends coming into the city and long-standing traditions that require an almost excessive amount of eggnog and mulled wine is something entirely different.  

It requires a certain kind of romantic fortitude. 

And a best man who is willing to spend all day going over flower options. 

Killian assumes he’s going to be the best man at this wedding. 

He will look very good in a tux. And Emma will look better in a maid of honor dress. 

There’s the silver lining he’s looking for. 

“A little,” Killian admits, “but you’re also freaking out. So I’m willing to overlook the jerkiness of it.” “Is jerkiness a word?” “No.” “You think I’m freaking out?” “I’m also a little offended that you don’t think you’re freaking out.”

David sneers, dropping onto the edge of the coffee table. He nearly knocks Killian’s feet off in the process. “Flowers? Thoughts?” “Oh, are we speaking in one-word questions now? That might get old pretty quickly.” David rolls his eyes. And his whole head. 

Killian chuckles lightly, slumping further into the couch and the pinch in his lungs loosens just a bit. He can hear his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s louder when it vibrates against everything else in there. 

“Poinsettias?” David asks. 

“They’re ugly aren’t they? Also I’m somewhere in the realm of seventy-two percent positive that they represent death.” “That’s not a very good grade.”

“You want me to look it up?” “Yes, I absolutely do.” Killian clicks his tongue, but he can still make out the buzz of his phone and he’s closer to one-hundred percent positive that it’s Emma. 

He’s right. 

“Hey,” Killian breathes into the phone, Emma’s soft laugh in his ear. He can feel his smile. That’s only vaguely ridiculous. Decidedly romantic, though. “Are poinsettias deadly?” She doesn’t answer immediately. And Killian assumes that’s because she’s blinking at open air in their kitchen where, per the schedule, she and Mary Margaret are slated to be baking for the majority of the afternoon. 

“Am I making that up?” Killian asks. “I feel like I'm making it up.”

David groans. “This is not helping my overall confidence!” “Swan, this is a very serious question about poinsettias, so if you’ve got any facts to share about the very ugly flower—” “Judgmental about poinsettias, aren’t we?” she mutters. Definitely smiling too. 

He can tell. 

What a weirdo. 

“What are your thoughts about poinsettias, love?” “Well, they’re ugly,” Emma says, and Killian can’t help whatever expression takes over his face. David looks like he’s trying not to lay across the entire coffee table. 

“I told you,” Killian cries. 

David flips him off. “Do you have a better Christmas flower suggestion?” “It’s not my proposal.” “Yeah, but you’re helping and—” David makes that noise again, head falling into his hands and Killian kind of feels bad. He’s still annoyed that his day has been commandeered, but he’s known David for years and he genuinely can’t remember a moment when he wasn’t head over heels for Mary Margaret, so—

He moves back into the living room, flicking his finger against David’s right wrist. “Holly? Is that a flower?” “No,” David and Emma answer at the same time before she adds, “Why is he freaking out, exactly? Also, is this not a dangerous conversation we’re having?” David mumbles something that sounds like an agreement, but Killian’s willing to be a bit selfish for a moment. And talk to his girlfriend. Flirt with his girlfriend. 

Still his girlfriend. 

Especially tonight. 

“Also,” Emma continues, voice dropping a bit, “poinsettias do not represent death.” David’s head finally jerks up, quick enough that Killian is briefly worried for the state of his neck, and Emma is not done. “They are, however, the victim of a long-standing urban legend that suggested they were poisonous. It lasted forever. In 1970 the FDA even published an actual pamphlet saying that one leaf could kill a kid.” “This is not great,” David grumbles. “How did they eventually decide that they weren’t deadly?”

“Uh—rats.” “Oh jeez.” “Did you say jeez?” Killian asks. “What year is it?” “The year of freaking out grooms,” Emma says. “That would suggest they’re getting married by the end of the year, though.” “Damn, that’s true.” “You two know I’m sitting here, right?” David sneers. Emma’s smile widens. Killian assumes. Knows, really. 

He resists the urge to walk back to his coat. And directly out the door. 

David is starting to look a little green. 

“I do have eyes, yes,” Killian nods. “And your middle finger is going to get stuck like that if you keep it in that position for too long.” Emma snickers. 

His heart may grow. It’s another Grinch-type joke. 

“God,” David huffs. “Ok, so, uh—poinsettias aren’t actually deadly, but Em, Em, seriously, how did you know that?” “He wants to talk to me now, does he?” Emma quips. “I do have to go back to distracting the future bride at some point.” “Don’t jinx it!” “Is he insane?” “He might be,” Killian answers. “What are you baking?” “Right now? Chocolate chip, but that’s only because—” “—How did you know about the poinsettias?” David yells. Killian is going to run out of parts of his mouth to bite by the end of the afternoon. 

“I know everything,” Emma answers simply, and he refuses to be held accountable for whatever that does to several different internal organs and the way his whole body surges forward when he laughs. 

David droops. Directly onto the coffee table. 

It is equally absurd and even more hysterical. 

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” Killian muses. “Or good for your spine.” David flips him off. 

Third time’s the charm, or whatever. 

“Is he laying on something?” Emma asks knowingly, and Killian’s mouth is going to get stuck in perpetual smile. “I’m really worried about the lasting damage it’s going to have on his vertebrae.” “I can still hear you,” David growls. “Ok, no to the poinsettias, just—what time is it?” “Almost two o’clock.” He sighs. 

“You’re going to be late picking up the ring,” Emma mutters, only to gasp softly when she realizes what she’s said and the general proximity of Mary Margaret’s very well-tuned ears. “Ah, shit—David if you heard that, it’s fine, everything is fine and—Oh, hey M’s, you ready to keep baking?”

The green tinge in David’s cheeks grows more pronounced. 

And Killian can’t quite hear Mary Margaret’s answer, but it doesn’t sound entirely suspicious and he finds he’s nodding encouragingly at David’s prostrate body before he can come up with all the reasons why that’s not helpful at all. 

Emma’s still giving Mary Margaret assurances that it’s fine, everything is fine, no I’m just making sure Killian has —

“Champagne,” he suggests. 

She hums, a thank you without actually saying the words, and that’s probably for the best because Killian is fairly positive David would have rolled onto the floor if they made it anymore obvious they were up to something. Mary Margaret is probably making that face. 

With the eyebrow thing. 

She’s very good at lifting her eyebrows. And making everyone feel like they’re about to get detention. 

“Champagne,” Emma repeats. “We need champagne for later, right?” It sounds like Mary Margaret says yuh huh. That is decidedly un-Mary Margaret. 

Killian grimaces, a quick glance towards David and the arm he’s got splayed across his face now and he doesn’t really think before he starts talking again, but his mouth is moving and there are words coming out and— “We’ll see you later, ok, love?”

She makes another noise in the affirmative, a mumbled string of something that sounds a bit like get me my own bottle of champagne, but then Killian is stuffing his phone in his back pocket and ignoring the desire to look at his jacket again and the smile he forces on his feels a little strained. 

“Alright. Well, that went—” “—Terribly?” David asks. “Eh. We learned about poinsettias. That’s something, right?” “For what? Christmas trivia contests? Also did you think poinsettia had more t’s in it? It sounds like it should have more t’s.” “I’m genuinely starting to think you are going insane.” “Don’t we call it point-settia? Like that’s how you say it, right?” “This is the most ridiculous conversation we’ve ever had,” Killian says. “And we need to get your ring.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” “We’re starting to sound a little less enthused.” “Rats were poisoned, Killian.” He nods, lower lip stuck out and it’s only a little placating, but David hasn’t actually sat up yet, so maybe that’s exactly what he has to do. Friendship-wise. He’s very focused on the friendship aspect of this. 

Like it’s karma. 

For his own plans. 

God, that might lose him points too. 

“But not you,” Killian points out. “Or the presumed and eventual blushing bride. So, that’s something right?” David props himself up on his elbows. “You think she’ll blush?” “I think she’ll weep in extremely romantic fashion. Obviously. Seriously, are you not going insane?” “A little.” “Yeah, I figured. Ok, so aside from being stupid late to pick up your ring, what else do we have to do?” “Flowers. Maybe actually get champagne.” “That was a stroke of genius, right?” “Your girlfriend is incapable of lying.” Killian squeezes one eye shut. The word makes his stomach flip in quick succession. And if David weren’t slowly, but very obviously losing his mind, he would have noticed that. As it is, he just huffs out another bit of frustrated oxygen, hopping back to his feet and plastering his own fake smile on his face. 

“Alright,” he says, clapping Killian on the shoulder. “We need to get Turkish delight, too.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Are you not aware of what Turkish delight is?” Killian shakes his head—partially in disbelief and partially in...no, all disbelief. “I’m very aware of what Turkish Delight is, but mostly in an Edmund Pevensie kind of way and—” “—Yeah, that’s exactly the vibe we’re going for.” “You want to vibe with Edmund Pevensie in your proposal?” “Oh, God, don’t say it like that,” David groans. “It’s her favorite book.” “Mary Margaret?” “Nah, the other person I want to marry.” “That was funny,” Killian says, falling into step with David when they walk towards the door and he refuses to be held accountable for whatever sound flies out of him when David’s fingers reach towards their jackets. 

“Are you dying?” Killian shakes his head brusquely, not trusting himself to speak and he needs to stop carrying it in his jacket pocket. But he...well, he wants. With everything and then some, a quiet desire that’s crept up his spine and taken root in every inch of his brain and every part of his heart until it’s all he can think about. Like some sort of crazed romantic lunatic. 

“Killian,” David prompts, and he actually flinches. This day is a disaster “Seriously, are you ok?” “You realize that Edmund Pevensie betrayed his family for Turkish delight, right? Like that’s a basic tenet of the story.” “But it’s good.” “Familial betray?” “Turkish delight. And Edmund redeems himself.” “In overtly religious ways,” Killian says. “Is this a Christmas story, even?” “Santa Claus is prominently featured, yes.” “You think he brought Turkish delight for Edmund after he became king?” Some of the tension between David’s shoulders almost visibly appears, a shaky laugh falling out of him. “At some point, when I’m presumably not insane, I will thank you for this, I swear.” “Don’t swear, Santa won’t appreciate it.” “Or maybe he’ll arm me with a bow.” “Weird, right? Just doling out weapons to children. How old was Susan supposed to be when they found Santa?” “He found them, technically.” “Remember when I said the poinsettia conversation was the most ridiculous we’d ever had?” Killian mutters, pushing his arms into his jacket. It feels heavier than usual. “I lied. This is definitely the most ridiculous.” “Entertaining, though?” “Now you’re fishing for compliments.”

David snorts, yanking his own jacket on and Emma is texting Killian. It is absolutely complaints about chocolate chip cookies and the fact that they are not snickerdoodles.

It is almost stupid how in love he is with his own girlfriend. 

Despite his growing disdain for that particular moniker. 

They’ll get there. 

After an in-depth analysis of the entire Narnia franchise. 

“It’s fair,” David agrees. “And Edmund figured his shit out, eventually. He was wavering even before he got Aslan and the not-so-covert religious allusions. Plus—” “—God, how is there more?” “This is it, really. It’s definitely Christmas-related, at least story-wise, because they make a big deal about Narnia under Jadis’ rule—” “—Who the hell is that?” “When is the last time you read the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?” Killian snaps his jaw. “I was, like, eight. Max. Should I know who Jadis is?” “The aforementioned witch,” David explains, swinging open the door and grabbing Killian’s keys off the hook nearby. Killian catches them. “Is named Jadis. It’s not important to the plot—” “—Seriously, is any of this important?” “Let me get to my point. Which is that, Narnia, while not explicitly a Christmas book, does highlight the overall importance of Christmas to the general zeitgeist and suggests that the arrival of good things will also inspire Christmas. To, you know—or whatever.”

“You just used the words explicit, zeitgeist and Christmas in the same sentence,” Killian says, and he is physically incapable of keeping a straight face. 

“Christmas is good, is what I’m getting at.” “Mmmhm. Ridiculous. It shouldn’t be too hard to find Turkish delight, right?”

Wrong. Fundamentally and completely wrong. 

“Maybe if he we were high kings of Narnia,” David grumbles, letting his forehead drop onto the shelf in the third Gristedes they’ve walked into in the last hour. 

Killian sighs. “Only Peter was high king, God, get your act together.” “You couldn’t remember the witch’s name before!” “Yeah, but this is basic and—” “—What about like...speciality markets? What time is it now?” “Almost four.” “Shit. And we’re supposed to be at Belle and Scarlet’s at what time?” “Six.” “Shit. Again.” “I don’t even remember what street we’re on,” Killian says, tugging his phone out of his pocket and there are what, at first glance, appears to be several thousand texts there. And a few missed phone calls. 

Honestly, everyone knows about this proposal except Mary Margaret. 

Mary Margaret may know too. 

Killian hopes Mary Margaret doesn’t know. 

“Lexington,” David answers. 

“And?” “I don’t know. Some cross street that doesn’t have Turkish delight.” It’s wrong to laugh. It is. But Killian can’t help it and then David is joining and they’ve been to so many supermarkets. 

“It’s pretty awesome that you’re doing all this,” Killian says. He didn’t mean to do that either, but that appears to be his MO for the day and David’s half smile might win him every potential friendship point. 

An explosion of friendship points. “Yeah?” “Romantic, even,” Killian adds. “The swooning will be quick and imminent.” “Sounds less romantic.” “You’ve got no reason to be nervous.” David groans. “Yeah, that’s not how it works, really. This is—I mean, it’s a big deal, right? The rest of your life and happily and ever after and all of that?” “I’d suggest not using the phrase all of that in your proposal.” “A gentleman and a scholar, you are.” He smiles, a hand in his hair and eyes flitting back towards his phone screen. “I’m not saying it isn’t a big deal. It is. But you guys are—” Killian shrugs. “—I don’t know, the inspiration for all other romantic endeavors.” “I think you’re trying to impress me with your vocabulary.” “There’s another supermarket on 86th Street, we could probably try there.” David takes a deep breath, chest shifting and growing with the force of it, but then his hand is back on Killian’s shoulder and his smile is as honest as its been all day, dim memories of college-age dates and slightly different nerves and— “Thank you,” he says. “For—all of this. Narnia analysis not withstanding. It’s...I wouldn’t have have trusted anyone else to help me scour Manhattan for a dessert I really thought more people would be inclined to buy.” “You’ll make me blush.” “I’m serious. I’m freaking out a little and you’re—well, you’re you.” “I��m me?” Killian asks. “You,” David nods. “A good guy and willing to go along with my bullshit—” “—Seriously you have such a way with words.” “You got Emma to help distract Mary Margaret.” “That didn’t take much convincing,” Killian objects. “Your sister is a much better person than I am.” “And you’re stupid in love with her.” “Yeah, I am.” “Quick agree.” “Perpetually.” David presses his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly and Killian can almost hear the ideas and theories bouncing around his skull, but neither of them say anything and that’s probably for the best and they have to get to Fairway anyway. 

They’re definitely at least five blocks away. 

“You want to find some Turkish delight?” “Perpetually,” Killian repeats. 

They end up buying seven boxes at Fairway. Just to be safe. 

And Killian has to blink several times to make sure they’re in the right place when they get to Belle and Will’s apartment — an explosion of garland and tinsel and actual ornaments hanging from the ceiling. “Is that safe?” he asks Emma, hardly out of his jacket before she’s plastered to his side and Ruby definitely brought champagne. Opened it, as well, it seems. 

“Absolutely not,” Emma mutters. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, eyes bright far too green to be anything except vaguely festive and a color Killian would be more than willing to stare at for the rest of the night, but then he’s flinching because Anna and Ariel are snapping crackers and Emma’s laugh seems to find its way under his skin and possibly into his soul and—

She’d very nearly touched his jacket. 

“How’d today go?” she asks, fingers curling around the front of his shirt like she’s using him for balance.

He kisses her forehead. 

On instinct.

“Was that the answer?” Emma mumbles. “Because it’s a very one-sided conversation we’re having here.” “You’re holding your own pretty well, love.” “Oh, two-fold critique.” “Is it good champagne?” “Did you get some?” He nods, nose brushing against her skin and he can’t help but wrap his arm around her middle, like he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t ever leave. He’s asking questions without actually voicing them. 

David totally knew. 

“I love you,” Killian says before he can stop himself. 

Emma tilts her head up. “Yeah?” “Hopefully that wasn’t up for debate.” “Nah, it wasn’t. I just—that was nice. You look nice, did I mention that?” His cheeks flame, a heat that isn’t entirely uncomfortable, but might be a hint of nervous energy and the words are there, sitting on the tip of Killian’s tongue and begging to be said and asked and kissed. He can’t kiss out words. 

He’s very willing to try. 

“Are you ok?” Emma asks, pushing up on her toes to let her fingertips graze his jaw. His throat suddenly feels very small. 

And he hadn’t been nervous before. 

Not once. 

Not when he was thinking about the question. Or practicing the question, muttering it under his breath in the shower or the backseat of Ubers, and that had drawn more than a few questionable glances, but that one driver had actually been nice when he explained and then they’d kind of practiced together and Killian had given that guy a five-star review. 

He was pretty confident it was going to go well. 

And yet. 

Now, with the champagne and the specific color of Emma’s eyes and the threat of concussion by glass ornament quite literally hanging over him, he’s nervous. He wants it to be perfect. He wants it to be better than perfect, he wants—

David clinks the side of his glass, the room quieting almost immediately. 

He’s not quite green anymore, but definitely paler than normal and Emma pulls herself closer to Killian. 

“So, uh—” David starts, more than a few muted snickers and Killian swears he can feel Emma’s smile through his shirt. “It’s…” He exhales, shaky and excited and a slew of adjectives that practically ring with romance, stuffing his hand into his pocket to grab they box they picked up nearly an hour later than originally scheduled. 

Emma sniffles. 

Killian kisses her hair again. 

Mary Margaret gasps. 

So, maybe she had no idea. 

“I love you, Mary Margaret,” David says, dropping onto one knee. Emma is not the only one crying now, Killian’s gaze flitting around the room to find their friends with matching looks on their faces, more than a few hands covering mouths and Ariel keeps having to drag her palm over her cheeks to keep the tears from flowing too freely. 

“I can’t remember when I didn’t,” he adds, “and I—well, this seemed like the perfect moment. For us. With everyone else we love here and—” He reaches behind him, an awkward twist that ends with a soft grunt because shoulders aren’t supposed to twit that way. David’s fingers find the boxy of Turkish delight eventually, and it is several different miracles that it doesn’t spill onto the floor, but the floor is also suddenly covered by a broken glass ornament and—

Mary Margaret starts to laugh. 

It’s a little shaky at first, probably because of the tears and perfect imperfection of the whole thing, but the ornament also didn’t land on anyone, so. Points. Of the Christmas variety. 

“Yeah,” she says. 

David’s eyes bug. “What?” “Yes. I—well, that’s the goal here, right?” “I didn’t even ask yet!” “We’re under attack by the ornaments, though.”

Ruby growls. “This is festive!” “Oh my God,” David grouses, and Mary Margaret looks a bit like the sun. Emma sniffles again. 

Killian is going to set a record for kisses pressed to her hair. 

“Ask, then,” Mary Margaret says, fingers fluttering at her side with an undeniable sort of energy. “I, uh—” “Will you marry me?” David cuts in. 

“Yes.” He doesn’t jump, but he might teleport into her space, fervent kisses and roaming hands and the Turkish delight joins the ornament on the floor. 

“Good thing we bought extra, huh?” Killian calls, David making a gesture behind Mary Margaret’s head. They don’t stop kissing. 

And he does get the ring on her finger eventually, glass and whatever gelatin substance makes up Turkish delight in the garbage, champagne flowing and glasses toasted and there are pictures and smiles and then more champagne because that’s just how they operate and—

Emma stumbles through their door hours later, fingers still clinging to Killian with a slightly more tired smile. “God, that was fun,” she breathes, and he does not know what to do with every emotion he’s ever felt and currently feels for her. 

It’s too much. 

And not enough. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Emma accuses, another finger tap to his cheek. He nips at her finger, getting the yelp he fully expected and he refuses to do anything else before he kisses her. 

He’s got priorities. 

She doesn’t quite melt, but she might sag against him, wholly romantic—like she’s certain he’ll hold on and the thought only spurs him on, his tongue brushing her lips and his fingers inching up her side, tracing over skin and tugging her closer. 

Emma sighs into his mouth, nose scrunched against his and it’s not particularly graceful, but she’s also only managed to get one of her boots off and eventually Killian will blame that for whatever happens next. 

Because whatever happens next is not part of any plan he ever came up with. 

He hopes the Uber driver isn’t disappointed in him. 

“Marry me,” he mumbles. 

“What did you say?” Ice water. In his veins. Metaphorically dumped over his head. It’s presumably worse than getting hit with an ornament. 

And Killian doesn’t know what to do, mouth opening and closing quick enough that he’s sure there’s a Nutcracker joke to be made. 

Emma doesn’t blink. 

She doesn’t look away. 

Her fingers had been actively trying to unbutton his pants. 

Less romantic than he intended. “Say it again,” she whispers, and Killian doesn’t think he mistakes the greedy edge to her voice. He swallows, leaning back and pulling the box out of his jacket and Emma doesn’t gasp. 

She beams. 

Like the top of a Christmas tree. 

And the sun. And the moon and a few stars thrown in for good measure, a rather jarring return to romance because— “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” Killian says softly. “Trying to think of the perfect moment and how it would be good and great and every other adjective something like this is supposed to be. And I came up with the party.” “This party? The one we just went to?” “One and the same. All our friends, presumably a lot of champagne. I wasn’t expecting the ornaments, but—” “—Ruby really thought it was festive.” “Yeah, well—then David showed up here today with his own plan and he was freaking out and we had to get Turkish delight and figure out the history of poinsettias. And he kind of uh...well, he got to the proposing first.” “The stuff about poinsettias is really very common knowledge.” Killian shakes his head, nosing at Emma’s cheek and mouthing at the side of her neck and she shivers. He grins. “No, it’s not, love. But you knew and I—I think you might know everything.” “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughs. Giggles, a little. He’s going to overstretch the muscles in his face. “I love you a ridiculous amount,” Emma adds. “And I—you were really going to do that tonight?” “I think I’m still doing it tonight, technically.” “God.” “The banter is part of our appeal, Swan.” She huffs, no frustration in the sound, a slightly different shade of green in her gaze and dots of pink on her cheeks when she looks up. “I love you. Again, just to really hammer the point home and I—shit, it’s so nice that you did that. For David and M’s and ah, God, I just said shit during your proposal, didn’t I?” “You did. I love you a ridiculous amount too.”

“I’d imagine that’s helpful for everything else.” “Everything else?” Emma nods, a sharp inhale and quicker exhale, fingers in Killian’s hair and her mouth just on the edge of his lips. “Say it one more time.” He’s not nervous anymore. 

“Will you marry me? I just—I want to marry you so much.” “I’m going to be honest the last part really sold it for me.” “Emma.” “Serious voice.” “Swan.”

She kisses him that time, a little greedy again and neither one of them really keep their footing when they trip towards the couch, but they don’t break apart either and that’s probably some deeper meaning that bodes well for the future and collective pronouns and rings on very specific fingers. 

“I need an answer here, love,” Killian says, kissing towards her collarbone. He cannot remember how Emma got onto her back. 

“Yes.”

“You want to go make out in bed?” “Do you get follow-up questions in a proposal?” “This one, apparently,” Killian laughs. Emma takes his hand as soon as he offers it, another nod and more stolen kisses, the pair of them leaving a trail of clothes behind him and eventually he has to go back to the living room to get the ring. 

He doesn’t bother putting his pants back on. 

[studentsofshield]

Marvel's Captain Marvel: A Legacy of Failed Relaunches

This piece is about the history of the Captain Marvel name in superhero comic books. First we have to start with the originator, then how it was shut down, then we can get to how it was stolen and how it's been handled since. I will not be getting in to Miracleman/Marvelman, since that is a whole other layer of convoluted.

Fawcett Publications was a publisher of magazines in the 1920s and 30s. They wanted to break into the comic book business after seeing the insane success of Superman starting in 1938. So in 1940 writer Bill Parker and artist CC Beck came up with a superhero for this purpose. The character was to be called Captain Thunder and debut in Flash Comics #1. However, All-American Periodicals beat them to the punch with their own Flash Comics #1 with a cover date of January 1940, debuting the Flash, Hawkman, and other characters. So Fawcett switched the title to Thrill Comics. Which they couldn't use either when Standard/Nedor launched Thrilling Comics #1 with a cover date of February 1940. I guess even the "ing" was too close for trademark comfort. January 1940 also saw the first issue of Fiction House's Jungle Comics, which had a minor backup feature starring Captain Terry Thunder. So when their character was finally unveiled to the public, he was Captain Marvel and appearing in WHIZ Comics #2.

The parallels to Superman were there off the bat and intentional. The first cover features Captain Marvel throwing a car, in reference to the iconic Action Comics #1, but one-upping it. Their powers, costumes, and adventures were somewhat similar. Captain Marvel arguably improved on the Superman formula. Instead of the grown, nerdy Clark Kent, Captain Marvel's secret identity was the child Billy Batson. Rather than looking up to Superman, kids could put their selves in Billy Batson's shoes. The art of CC Beck and others was also more cartoony and the stories more outlandish and fun. While Superman was dealing with corrupt politicians and domestic abusers, Captain Marvel was fighting the moon and hanging out with anthropomorphic tigers.

Captain Marvel replicated the success of Superman, and for a while even outsold the poster boy of comic books. The character's success led to Fawcett creating a whole line of comics and superheroes like Bulletman, Spy Smasher, Minute-Man, Ibis the Invincible and so on in the titles Nickel Comics, Wow Comics, Master Comics, etc. Captain Marvel started multiplying himself with spinoff characters Captain Marvel Jr. and Mary Marvel (before DC created Supergirl). The publisher experienced great success through the 1940s.

This success bothered some people, namely competitor National (today's DC Comics). They had success earlier shutting down Fox Feature Syndicate's character Wonder Man for being too close to Superman. They even did the same thing to Fawcett with their character Master Man. Starting in 1941 National took Fawcett to court over Captain Marvel. The lawsuit and all its subsequent appeals lasted all the way to 1951. Meanwhile Superman was ripping off elements of Captain Marvel along the way, like starting to actually fly, Lex Luthor becoming a bald mad scientist (like Dr. Sivana), and introducing the adventures of Superboy akin to Captain Marvel Jr. The long legal struggle and the waning superhero popularity of the 1950s led to Fawcett giving up on the case and shutting down their entire comics line in 1953.

Of course, having won, DC took the opportunity to pull over Fawcett's talent and put them to work on Superman. DC then ended up licensing Fawcett's characters in the 1970s. Captain Marvel has been fully integrated to the DC Universe through the years, for better or worse.

There is just one ironic hiccup though. While Captain Marvel lay dormant in the 1960s, the trademark lapsed. Another comic publisher by the name of Timely Comics had went through a few eras and name changes to Atlas Comics and then to Marvel Comics. Marvel was becoming a major force in the early 1960s thanks to Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko. Publisher Martin Goodman demanded that they snatch up the trademark to Captain Marvel. Fitting I suppose given the name of the company.

So in December 1967 Marvel's version of Captain Marvel debuted in Marvel Super-Heroes 12. Rather than a Superman-like character, this version was Mar-Vell, an alien warrior who was tasked to spy on Earth but then decided to protect humanity. The stories were light science fiction fare.

This Captain Marvel would not become a sales juggernaut like Fawcett's. Marvel has to maintain their right to the trademark at least every two years though. So this has lead to dozens of relaunches and different characters under the Captain Marvel name. 

This is their legacy of failure.

After two appearances in Marvel Super-Heroes (12-13) Captain Marvel received his own self-titled comic in May 1968. From the first appearance through the fourth issue of the series, Gene Colan drew the character and Roy Thomas wrote him. Then not even a year in new creative team Arnold Drake and Don Heck hop on. Other creators like Gary Friedrich, Dick Ayers, and Archie Goodwin rotate through. The original green and white costume has a simplistic design that has become retroactively classic, but is really not too special.

With issue 17 in October 1969, Roy Thomas comes back and is joined this time by Gil Kane. The pair introduce a new costume and the unique dynamic of Captain Marvel playing switcheroo with perennial sidekick Rick Jones. The quality of the book vastly improves, but it only gets the chance to show it off for three issues.

After a six month hiatus, Captain Marvel resumes with issue 20 and the same creative team from before. This time they only get to pump out two issues. The book will now be bimonthly for the most part from here on out.

The character would feature prominently in the classic Kree/Skrull War storyline in Avengers, also written by Roy Thomas. This kept him relevant through 1971 even without a book.

And Mar-Vell is back again two years later in 1972 (recall the trademark rules). This time we have three uninspired issues written by three different writers. The only notable piece here is that they're drawn by Wayne Boring. Who was one of the definitive Superman artists of the 1940s and 50s in comic books and strips. In 1967 DC kicked him out, as they had done with most of their iconic Golden Age artists. Super fan and historian Roy Thomas hired him to do a few jobs for Marvel in the 70s. It's cool to see, but his style honestly was out of date by this point. The irony of these past two relaunches is that both returning issues use the cover text "the hero who wouldn't die!" The irony will become evident in a bit.

By this point DC has licensed the original Fawcett Captain Marvel. Due to Marvel's trademark usage, DC has to title the comic Shazam (the catchphrase Billy Batson uses to transform into the hero). Shazam runs from 1973 through 1978 and then the character moves to anthology backups. Superman even introduces the Big Red Cheese on the cover of the first issue. Within the pages of the comic, the character is still allowed to be called Captain Marvel. This alleged confusion has caused anxiety over the years for DC and with the New 52 reboot in 2011 they tried to officially change the icon's name to Shazam.

With issue 25 in 1973 Captain Marvel finally becomes a must-read comic when a young Jim Starlin jumps on board as artist. He had previously written and drawn fill-in issues of Iron Man that introduced the characters Thanos and Drax the Destroyer. He brought those characters with him and began writing as well, giving fans the iconic Thanos War arc. Starlin sticks around for less than a year. His final issue is 34, where Mar-Vell fights Nitro and the infamous cover text describes him as "the man who killed Captain Marvel." It's originally just supposed to be a sensational lie as is the tradition.

With Starlin gone, Captain Marvel still continues to issue 62 in 1979. Al Milgrom and Pat Broderick draw most of this run. Steve Englehart, Scott Edelman, and Doug Moench handle the writing. Nothing truly memorable or relevant happened, though by this point there were Mar-Vell fans who surely enjoyed it.

Supporting character Carol Danvers also got superpowers and got a spinoff title that ran two years. Mostly written by Chris Claremont. Ms. Marvel would have her own too-late creative reinvention in issue 20 thanks to artist Dave Cockrum. This book was arguably better than the book it spun out of at this point. Carol Danvers will become important again in this saga, but for the time being Claremont pulls her way to be an occasional presence in his vast X-Men run.

Captain Marvel was cancelled prematurely, so Marvel launched a new volume of Marvel Spotlight to pump out inventory issues. Captain Marvel appeared in Marvel Spotlight 1-4, and 8. Of curiosity is that Steve Ditko and Frank Miller drew the last two issues.

Outside of a few appearances, Mar-Vell doesn't make a major appearance between September 1980 and April 1982. When Jim Starlin was offered to write and draw the first installment of the Marvel Graphic Novel series and kill off a major character. One can presume he wasn't allowed to choose Spider-Man. He went with Captain Marvel, following up from his final issue on the series and revealing that the fight with Nitro gave him cancer. He died surrounded by all his fellow heroes and the book is a genuine emotional classic. It solidifies Mar-Vell as a legend, even if his original series never truly got him to deserve that reputation.

Mar-Vell would be featured in a reprint series titled The Life of Captain Marvel in 1985 focusing on the Starlin run. A three issue flashback series to his green and white era was published in 1997.

They need to maintain the trademark though, right? Enter Monica Rambeau in Amazing Spider-Man Annual #16 the same year. Her connection to Mar-Vell was nonexistent, but she took on the Captain Marvel name regardless. Creator Roger Stern carried her over to his legendary Avengers run and she even lead the team for a period. Monica has had tons of memorable appearances since, such as the brilliant Nextwave: Agents of HATE.

Monica would receive solo one-shots in 1989 and 1994. Both by the creative team of Dwayne McDuffie and M.D. Bright.

The third Marvel character to go by Captain Marvel was Genis-Vell. Originally introduced in Silver Surfer Annual #6 as Legacy, Genis is Mar-Vell's bastard child. Genis gets his father's Nega Bands and even is linked to Rick Jones. He got his own series written by Fabian Nicieza in late 1995 that was cancelled prematurely after six issues. In Avengers Unplugged #5 Genis officially takes the Captain Marvel name from Monica, who then suffers through several code names over the years.

After disappearing for about two years, Genis pops up again prominently in the Avengers Forever maxiseries. This launched a 2000 series written by Peter David and drawn by ChrissCross. The series was a critical darling and cult hit, but sales weren't perfect.

To try and boost sales, the book was relaunched in 2002 as part of the U-Decide Campaign. Which was a (marketing ploy) bet between David, Bill Jemas, and Joe Quesada. Fans helped to decide which of three books would survive. It helps that the other two books (Marville and Ultimate Adventures) were absolute trash, but Captain Marvel handily won. It lasted another 25 issues to bring the entire run to 60 issues. During the run, the fourth Captain Marvel Phyla-Vell is introduced as Genis' sister/clone. She uses the name briefly and then becomes Quasar and then Martyr in other stories. Genis eventually goes crazy, then dies.

In 2008 as part of the Secret Invasion crossover, Mar-Vell seems to come back to life in a self-titled miniseries. However, it's revealed that this character is a Skrull with fake memories.

The Skrull fake dies, but is able to pass on his wishes to the Kree hero Noh-Varr. Who was previously known as Marvel Boy, but then becomes Captain Marvel during the Dark Reign era. After discovering he's being manipulated, he abandons the Dark Avengers and takes on the Protector identity.

While the Avengers stock is rising in the 2000s thanks to Brian Michael Bendis, Carol Danvers is back as Ms. Marvel and her mission is to become the prominent hero she thinks she can be. To really promote her, in 2012 Marvel gives her the Captain Marvel name, redesigns her costume, and launches a new title. Kelly Sue DeConnick will shepard the character for the next few years. This series only lasts 17 issues.

By 2012 Marvel has now entered their relaunch trigger happy era. So in 2014 Captain Marvel is relaunched while keeping the same writer. This volume is even shorter at 15 issues.

As a tie-in to the alternate reality event Secret Wars in 2015, Carol Danvers gets her own miniseries still by KSD.

Coming out of Secret Wars, Captain Marvel gets another volume. This one lasts only 10 issues. Marvel brings in TV writers Tara Butters and Michele Fazekas. They leave halfway through and are replaced by Christos and Ruth Gage. The character is significantly entangled in the divisive crossover event Civil War II around this era.

In 2017 another relaunch is due and Carol gets the slight title change to The Mighty Captain Marvel. Prose writer Margaret Stohl is the writer. This series lasts nine issues before being renumbered/retitled as part of Marvel's Legacy initiative. Still with Stohl, renumbered for only five issues.

A soon to be released one-shot tie-in to Infinity Countdown promises Carol adventuring with Monica and possibly Mar-Vell. Marvel has been subtly teasing Mar-Vell's genuine return again recently.

With a Captain Marvel movie starring Carol Danvers just around the corner, Marvel obviously needs to relaunch again (SIGH). July 2018 will bring The Life of Captain Marvel #1. Still written by Stohl, the series promises to retell Carol Danver's origin. So maybe they'll decide to relaunch it again after the origin arc is over.

It's unclear whether DC would have been able to quickly grab the trademark back in the possibly free periods of 1984, 1987, 1992, 1998, and 2006. I don't know if the publication of collected editions fulfills the trademark requirements. If so, Masterworks and other collections could tick off some of those possible open spots.

To summarize, here are all of Marvel's Captain Marvel titles and relaunches:

Mar-Vell Marvel Super-Heroes 12-13 (December 1967-March 1968) Captain Marvel Vol 1 1-19 (May 1968-December 1969) Captain Marvel Vol 1 20-21 (June-August 1970) Captain Marvel Vol 1 22-62 (September 1972-May 1979) Marvel Spotlight 1-4, 8 (July 1979-September 1980) Death of Captain Marvel (April 1982) Life of Captain Marvel Vol 1 1-5 (August-December 1985) Untold Legend of Captain Marvel 1-3 (April-June 1997)

Monica Rambeau: Captain Marvel Vol 2 1 (November 1989) Captain Marvel Vol 2 1/2 (February 1994)

Genis-Vell: Captain Marvel Vol 3 1-6 (December 1995-May 1996) Captain Marvel Vol 4 0-35 (November 1999-October 2002) Captain Marvel Vol 5 1-25 (December 2002-September 2004)

Skrull Fake: Captain Marvel Vol 6 1-5 (January-June 2008)

Carol Danvers: Captain Marvel Vol 7 1-17 (September 2012-January 2014) Captain Marvel Vol 8 1-15 (May 2014-July 2015) Captain Marvel and the Carol Corps 1-4 (August-November 2015) Captain Marvel Vol 9 1-10 (March 2016-January 2017) Mighty Captain Marvel 0-9 (February-November 2017) Captain Marvel Vol 1 125-129 (December 2017-April 2018) Life of Captain Marvel Vol 2 1-? (September 2018-?)

*Dates used are cover dates.

[bleenks]

Code Geass spoilers + rambling

one day I gotta make an “I never told you what I do for a living” by MCR Code Geass music video, because like

“And we’ll all dance along to the tune of your death we’ll love again we’ll laugh again and it’s better off this way...”

would be pretty amazing paired with Lelouch’s whole “I’ll die to make everything right” deal. plus there’s that “I can’t clean the blood off the sheets in my bed” bit at the very end that I would pair with Suzaku freaking out since he had to kill the guy, and killing your childhood friend would fuck almost anyone up, right?

the thing is, it’d probably take months to get it perfect and I’d have to rewatch the show a third time and take notes and shit and like HHH!! it’d be perfect but do I have the motivation for that? 

like

“I keep a book of the names and those only go so far til you bury them”

would be a whole “Lelouch kills a lot of people and tries to deal with that, but he can’t once it turns out that he’s killed Shirley’s dad in his 200 IQ landslide”

maybe the whole thing could be about how many people Lelouch kills in his quest to make things better, and how he can’t justify it and only keeps digging himself a bigger hole, until he decides that the only moral thing is to be killed himself to make things better

only for the whole “I killed someone to make things better but I can’t deal with it” thing to be transferred to Suzaku

Lyrics:

Stay out of the light Or the photograph that I gave you You can say a prayer if you need to Or just get in line and I'll grieve you Can I meet you, alone Another night and I'll see you Another night and I'll be you Some other way to continue To hide my face

Chaotic/manic energy, Lelouch just getting started and feeling amazed/powerful because this Geass shit works so well and he’s successfully managing a rebellion, and at first he’s able to discount the deaths he’s causing because it all feels kinda like chess to him and it’s for a good cause anyway.

[Chorus:] Another knife in my hands A stain that never comes off the sheets Clean me off I'm so dirty babe The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes I keep a book of the names and those

Killing people is getting to him a little but he’s still kinda okay with it, he sees himself as a dark angel murdering people for a good cause, and it STILL isn’t personal, until...

Only go so far 'til you bury them So deep and down we go

He buries Shirley’s father in a landslide and attends the funeral. And at that point it all becomes incredibly real, but he tells himself he’s still doing it for a good cause. And he can’t just stop now anyway... so he commits himself to becoming genuinely bloodstained.

Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace I did it all so maybe I'd live this every day

“Touched by angels” could be about him receiving his power from CC and the whole Chosen One thing.

[Chorus:] Another knife in my hands A stain that never comes off the sheets Clean me off I'm so dirty babe It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame It's for the bodies I claim and those

Only go so far 'til you bury them So deep and down we go

Bodies continue to pile up and there’s nothing fun or power-trippy about it anymore, he’s just hoping to god that this “better life for his sister” thing is actually gonna pan out after all this.

Down And down we go And down we go And down we go And we all fall down

“And we all fall down” = the fact that not only is he killing, but so are all his soldiers, and he’s staining them with blood too.

I tried I tried

At this point, the idea that he could kill all these people for the sake of his better world and not die himself becomes insane to him. He tried to do the right thing and it obviously failed, so now he has to pay for it, because he can’t live with himself. He feels fucked up about trying and failing and killing so many people in the process, but then he rallies because there’s still a way to fix things:

And we'll all dance along to the tune of your death We'll love again, we'll laugh again And it's better off this way

Ta-da! A nice solution for Lelouch, where he martyrs himself AND gets the best possible outcome for his sister. At this point, he sees a way to free himself from his guilt. 

And never again, and never again They gave us two shots to the back of the head And we're all dead now.

Well never again, and never again They gave us two shots to the back of the head And we're all dead now.

This is a break from Lelouch’s perspective, where it’s shown that even if he dies too, the people he killed are still dead. He’s not bringing them back or anything, he’s just escaping his own guilt for killing them. 

Well I tried One more night One more night Well I'm laughin' out, cryin' out, laughin' out loud I tried, well I tried, well I tried, 'Cause I tried, but I lied I lied

Back to Lelouch’s perspective, where we see his breaking point a bit more clearly: how hard he tried, how alone he was, how much it fucked him up, and finally him having to lie to his sister and play the villain.

I tried I tried I tried, well

More sad Lelouch, but the perspective starts to shift to his friends and how they’re affected by his death: his sister, Suzaku, CC, and Kallen, who are all burdened with the knowledge that he was actually a martyr, and now have to grieve the person they never really got to meet. 

And we'll love again, we'll laugh again We'll fight again and we'll dance again And it's better off this way So much better off this way I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed

Same thing, but building in intensity, until we get Suzaku freaking out because he can’t get Lelouch’s blood off his hands no matter what he does...

And never again, and never again They gave us two shots to the back of the head And we're all dead now

Shifting back to a wider perspective where Lelouch and all his victims are incredibly dead. The possibility of Lelouch actually creating a better world gets glossed over in favor of a focus on the cost of it all. 

Aaaand cut! That would be pretty fuckin’ angsty and maybe one day I’ll actually make it. 

[tobeawandererwandering]

weird (/neg) things about the Dreamsmp fandom that bug me (as a relatively inexperienced member of fandom spaces and surface level participant of dsmp fandom)

“are you okay with they/them pronouns being used for you?”

whAT? This question makes so little sense to me, cause like is that not just asking someone if they are okay with other people being respectful towards them by referring to them with gender neutral pronouns if they don’t know what their pronouns are? Like we already know cc’s pronouns, so we should be using those pronouns to refer to them. This hypothetical only applies to people who don’t know who they are, and therefore would not know whether they are “okay” with they/them being used to refer to them.

unofficial raids

I feel like this is the opposite of what everyone says “twitch etiquette” is. You are going into another streamer’s chat and announcing that you were just watching the original person’s stream and only joined this new stream because that person ended. That seems ... rude? Not to mention that a lot of the time streamers have to acknowledge it anyway because it looks like an actual raid in chat when everyone spams the raid emote.

casual sexism from cc’s

There is SO MUCH casual sexism from cc’s in the dsmp fandom, ESPECIALLY in older vods. It is honestly pretty startling and off putting. I will say, it reflects a larger problem of casual sexism in general life, but the concentration of jokes with women as the punchline in dsmp videos/streams made me so much more aware of casual sexism from people in my life irl. Even people calling it out, such as Wilbur’s famous line “Tommy, stop being sexist.” is treated as a joke/punchline rather than an accurate call out of some questionable jokes.

racism from fans

For a fandom that preaches equity and inclusion and will cancel a cc for things that don’t even make sense sometimes, the fandom itself has so much racism. ESPECIALLY Quackity’s chat, like JESUS CHRIST. It’s so shameless too, like people will condemn Quackity’s chat for how absolutely horrid it is, but it never really changes. Thousands of people are actively participating, and they don’t stop and think that maybe they are doing something wrong.

hostility towards fandom spaces on different platforms

dsmp twitter hates dsmp tiktok which hates dsmp tumblr which hates dsm.... Everyone thinks everyone else is toxic and they are on the *superior* platform because they have so little problems comparatively, when really they’re pretty similar tbh. Twitter is not that bad (hot take) if you choose who you follow carefully, and Tiktok is not that bad (another hot take) if you do the SAME THING. It’s not very hard to just block the weirdos and get on with your life.

The insane amount of hate Dream gets

My brother is a total Dream anti, and I have actively listened to what he is saying when he talks about Dream, but all I’ve figured out is that he finds him and his fan base annoying and thinks that that justifies the amount of hate he receives ?? Idk, it is genuinely baffling to me the amount of hate Dream gets for simply existing with a large fan base. I’m in his private on twitter, and I feel like he is constantly having to address some strange situation that popped up that he is getting hate for that most of the time is in no way his fault. He has long standing drama about how he is “queer baiting” by flirting with his friends, which like ... huh? what? where did that idea even come from and how in the world did it get so large that Dream has had to address the topic multiple times?

“can you say ____ rights?”

what are they gonna say, no?? Most of the dsmp creators demonstrate consistently their support for the LGBT community. I mean, I understand that people just want to hear that from the cc’s they look up to, but it got to the point where it was just repeats of the exact same question.

There are SO MANY wonderful things about the dsmp fandom that I obviously didn’t list above, like the insane amount of acceptance for queer fans and the increased use of tone tags and the sense of community, but these things just bug me I guess. Anyway, there’s probably more that I’m forgetting but I’ll just add them in later :)

[beyondthefloor]

Dear Parent,

Dear Parent,

Your kid joined a high level, nationally competitive program. You had to sign a fucking 16 page membership manual and commitment contract in order to even get the kid to participate - and you just signed that motherfucker without reading it, didn’t you? It’s okay, I’ll give you the crash course: Why yes, I do look young to be a coach. In fact, I am young. Shut the fuck up about that and look at my results. I’m 100% more qualified to be your kids coach than you are at doing whatever you do for a living. I bet you didn’t compete internationally and gain relative fame in human resources, Karen. How many national championships has your accounting department won under your direction, Steve? None? Weird. I bet you can’t even motivate them to clean out the coffee pot at the end of the day. You don’t know shit about what makes a good coach. I don’t want to hear your idea. You literally have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Don’t email me your suggestion for new team apparel or for a fun new training exercise for us to do. This isn’t girl scouts where the moms can participate as troop leaders and pretend they have superior knowledge about birdseed or some shit. You’re wasting my time. You know why I don’t work with children? Because I hate children. You might enjoy this weird “my kid is a teenager but also just a BABY” thing because you have an undiagnosed mental problem, but some of us are trying to teach your teenager fundamental adult life skills. You can cling to a photo album at home or something - stop getting in my fucking way. When I say the student has to email me if they can’t be at rehearsal, I mean the student. That’s the one who’s younger and attends high school. When I send them a disciplinary email for the sake of record keeping and CC you so everyone is on the same page, the last line ALWAYS says “[Name], I’m CCing your parents on this email so we’re all on the same page, but please be aware that this is your responsibility entirely.” Responding telling your kid you’re going to “get through this together” is both insane and counterproductive. YOUR KID DOESN’T NEED YOU TO HELP THEM “GET THROUGH” THIS BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING TO GET THROUGH. They broke a rule and I called them out - this is called accountability. And so help me if you express it’s not their fault. Yes, it fucking is. You’re making them worse at being a person and therefore you are a shitty fucking parent. Competitions are not family time. You don’t get to come into our team space. This isn’t dance moms. I will have you removed. If your kid comes home and complains that I was “mean” or I “made them do PT” or I “said they didn’t do it right” I need you to really think about that for a fucking second before you hop on your keyboard to type me an 8 paragraph email about how upset your darling is. Your freshman is probably really bad at things. You literally pay money to this program so that they can be better at things. Did you think that would happen through magic? I know they did because they’re fourteen and they have no idea what’s happening until next year but DID YOU GENUINELY THINK your young teenager with no experience was just going to be infallible? Have you ever been outside your home? I’m assuming so, so this shouldn’t be a hard concept for you to understand. If I told your kid to stop being a little bitch, sure thing, send me an email. Report me, whatever the fuck you do in that situation. If I told your kid they need to have a better push up posture and then called them out for not applying the correction GUESS WHAT. THAT’S MY LITERAL JOB. You’re emailing me to tell me that I did my job, and somehow you’re complaining about it. The calendar is accessible to you in six different ways. Jesus fucking christ stop asking me about the calendar. I’m not just going to randomly change it and be like SURPRISE WHOLE NEW CALENDAR TO SHAKE THINGS UP because that’s insane and I am not the insane one in our relationship. Stop teaching your kid to make excuses. When they’re with me their sore toe or whatever the fuck isn’t a huge deal because no one turns it into a deal at all. When they come back and freak out because their “broken toe” is “in so much pain” I know it’s you who did that. If you keep your kid home from practice because they have allergies but they went to school that day you are actually satan. If you bring them to the doctor because they have a bruise or twisted ankle you are lucky to have such nice health insurance. I teach these people classes in understanding and taking care of their bodies with a focus on care for injuries and stretching. They’re fucking fine. Let them get a bump without calling the mayor. I don’t work for you, nor do I work for your kid. Who the fuck put that idea in your head? I will remove you immediately from any event if I hear you spout bigotry, and I will ask you to not return until you can control your mouth. God help you if that bigotry is directed towards one of my students. Idk who you’re regularly communicating with that you think you can send me the same copy/pasted email asking me a question every hour on the hour until I answer you, but that’s not the way things work outside of your head. I don’t sit at my computer waiting for you to ask me the location of the next show (which is on your calendar you never look at because you’re a dirty microwave of a human being). If you describe coaching on this level as a “fun light hobby” I immediately hate you more than anything in the entire world. While you’re sitting on your fucking ass at home watching the Bachelor and old Tiger Woods interviews (oh yeah I know about that, your kid talks about you) I’m training teenagers to be mentally and physically prepared to compete and win. I’m out of the house doing 14 hour workdays so your kid can have enough evening rehearsal time during the week, I give up my Saturdays, and I spend my “free time” planning. I have to answer your goddamn emails. The health, safety, success, and a significant portion of the growth of these teenagers comes from my influence and the program I run. It’s not some casual picnic I’m showing up to that we can laugh about together. If I have a stellar relationship with your offspring, BE HAPPY THERE’S AN ADULT IN THEIR LIFE THEY CAN TRUST. I cannot count the number of times I’ve had a kid crying in my office because they couldn’t handle a situation on their own but didn’t want to talk to their parent about it for whatever reason. I’m not running some popularity contest here. I want your kid to be their best - even when it has nothing to do with me or my team. Try it sometime. Also, as an addition to this one, STOP BEING SHITTY. Your homosexual child knows you’re avoiding them because you know they’re going to come out soon. Your 18 year old is scared to have safe sex because she thinks you will literally harm her physically if you catch her with condoms. Your stepdaughter got into a fistfight because she’s frustrated that you drug test her every morning despite the fact that she’s never done drugs. Finally, you’re welcome. You’re welcome for the hours upon hours of hard labor that go into making sure your kid has somewhere they feel challenged and successful and comfortable. You’re welcome for talking to your kid like they’re a human being, respecting them, and asking for nothing but their attendance and honest attempts during rehearsal. You’re welcome for giving them their college recommendation letters, making sure they get into national honor society, making sure they have scholarships and accolades to mention on their applications, and for being their reference for their first jobs. You’re welcome for teaching them how to go to an interview, how to handle stress, how to address physical and mental ailments, and how to act professional in public. You’re welcome for fucking loving them, protecting them, teaching them, wiping their tears, and waking up every day trying to do right by them. You’re fucking welcome. Love, Coach