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fullbeaumonty · 5 years

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Ten Lords A-Leaping (Or, in this Case, One Excited Duke)

This is my contribution to the 12 Days of Cordonian Christmas for Day 10 - Ten Lords A-Leaping!

Pairing: Maxwell x Lydia, Lydia and Joni (OC friend)

Word Count: ~4,500

Rating: Let’s call it PG for language. This is pure fluff, though.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Joni and Oliver.

Author’s Note: I’ve wondered about the friends that our transplanted MCs left behind - in New York in the case of TRR. Certainly she had friends and I’ll bet they miss each other and find ways to stay in touch across the miles. For this story and in my universe, I gave my beloved Lydia a dear friend from back home named Joni (whom Lydia sometimes calls Jones as a nickname). Inspiration for this story and a moodboard are at the bottom - they’d give too much away if I put them here!

To my own real-life Joni - you already know this story is a Christmas gift for you. Your friendship is a gift in my life, as well as the million and a half things I’ve learned from you and the endless encouragement and insight you’ve given me. If I could knit, I would knit you a squid scarf that I’m certain you would wear with Maxwell levels of pride. You deserve that and so much more. I love you.

12 Days Tag List: @ao719 @blackwidow2721 @bobasheebaby @brightpinkpeppercorn @fullbeaumonty @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @speedyoperarascalparty @kenjikatsoros @zaffrenotes @mind-reader1 @cocomaxley, @blackcoffee85 @likethetailofacomet @endlessly-searching-for-you @tornbetween2loves

Personal Tag List: @breaumonts, @thedepthsremember, @ritachacha, @hellospunkiebrewster, @alj4890, @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul, @littlecrookedheart

Up next for Day 11 is @itsstillnotwhatyouthink!

*********

She’d started the project with an Etsy-purchased pattern and a dream, no experience and little more for inspiration than a long-forgotten comment he’d probably just said to make her laugh in the moment. But Lydia listens, and moreover, she thinks, mental gears in constant motion. She’d tucked that idea away until she realized as the leaves began to turn that she should probably get started on such an ambitious project if it was going to be done in time for Christmas.

There was so much joy in the activity then, tools and supplies hidden away in a box, in a drawer, in a rarely-used room, every caution taken to be sure this would always remain a surprise. But that was before the twenty YouTube tutorials (“...for absolute beginners, my ass!”), the half-dozen failed cast-ons and dozen and a half restarts when she had to pull everything apart and start over to fix yet another mistake. It’s late November and the project she can see so clearly in her mind is little more than a heap of mottled red yarn on her lap.

She stares out the window at the distant mountains, trying to calm herself through her frustration. Checking her phone, she does some quick mental time zone math to be sure it’s not too early on the East Coast before sending a message to Joni, who not only knew how to knit but also always knew how to make her feel as though she could take on the world. And if the world was in her reach, certainly this project was as well.

After a few moments, the phone screen lights up, and Lydia smiles.

*********

They have no shortage of friends - noble, common, or otherwise - but every once in a while she still feels the pang of missing her friends back in the States. Just because this is a wonderful, charmed life doesn’t negate the fact that she left another life behind that had its own positives. Thank goodness for messaging apps and Pictagram to keep her far-away friends feeling at least a little closer.

The familiar tri-tone ring of Skype fills the quiet of the room before her dear friend’s face pops up on the laptop’s screen, pixelating for a moment, then returning. Joni grins and squeals, “Lyddie!” and the smile Lydia returns as she waves at her friend hurts her cheeks, but it’s accompanied by the tangible ebbing away of her earlier frustration.

“It’s so good to see you! You look great! New hair?”

“Of course! I loved the lavender, but it fades so quickly.”

“Well, that shade of red is perfect for you.” Lydia pulls her long brunette waves over one shoulder. “Still plain Jane brown over here.”

Joni waves her off. “Hush, you’re gorgeous.” She props herself up on her elbows on the desk and smiles at Lydia. “I miss you, Lyd. But it looks like royal life is treating you well.”

“We’re nobility, my friend, not royalty. Big difference.”

“Yeah, huge.” Joni laughs and Lydia joins her, happy just to see her friend. It’s not the quiet coffee shop filled with hipsters writing manuscripts where they were used to meeting, but right now, it’s a close second.

“So…” Joni rubs her hands together excitedly. “You want some help to knit a scarf, huh?” Lydia nods, looking down from the camera for a moment to email her a link to the picture and pattern. Joni’s smile fades as her jaw drops slowly and her eyes go wide as she scans the instructions. “I thought you were trying to knit a scarf scarf, as in, a very long rectangle. I figured maybe you were being ambitious with something like a cable knit and it was giving you trouble. This is…” she trails off for a moment. “I mean, it’s doable, but it’s another level. And you’ve never knitted before?”

She shakes her head. “Never.”

“You never did things by half measures, either, Lyd.” Joni looks up from the pattern, brow furrowed. “I’ll help you the best I can, but I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea how to change yarns like that.”

“Jones,” she sighs, “I don’t even know what ‘changing yarns’ means. I’m in way, way over my head.” She lifts the tangled pile of yarn so Joni can see it on her own screen. Her friend pulls a face when she sees the mess. “I know, right? Yikes.”

“Yikes,” Joni agrees.

Lydia watches in silence as Joni reads the instructions in detail, squinting at the screen and silently mouthing a phrase here and there. Anxiety creeps back in by the moment. Maybe this was impossible. She hates that word, but she also hates the fact that she’s had this in mind for the better part of a year and it’s now exactly one month to Christmas, with no end in sight for the project.

Finally, Joni looks up at her again. “You know what, I love a good challenge. I can’t exactly teach you more than the basics, because most of this is all new to me, but I’ll learn along with you and we can knit this thing together. What do you think?”

Lydia can’t speak for the lump in her throat, but her smile and nod say “thank you” for her.

*********

Joni is exceedingly patient, more patient than Lydia would be if the tables were turned, as she teaches her the essentials of knitting.

“Okay, basic knit stitch. Bring this needle up into the first stitch, behind your left-hand needle. Wrap the yarn between the two needles, counter-clockwise for you since you’re looking down on it, then pull that strand through the stitch. Angle the needle downward if you need to, like this.” She holds her needles up to the camera and slowly goes through the motions again as a visual. Lydia nods and tries it herself. “We’re going to knit this row and purl the next one, okay? The instructions say to count 66 stitches for each.”

If these are the same instructions given by strangers on the many YouTube videos she’d watched over the past month of confusion and frustration, she wouldn’t know. She makes mistakes. She needs several steps repeated. She unravels parts of her work in frustration and begins again. But now she understands. Maybe all it took was the encouragement of a familiar voice. It’s amazing to look down and finally see progress.

The two friends talk while they knit, more words spoken aloud between them in these few weeks than in the past year and a half. Theirs is an odd relationship, friends who met online as strangers through a shared interest years ago, happily discovering over time that they lived relatively close to one another. In what feels like a former life now, they would meet halfway for coffee every few months for marathon chats and so much laughter. She’s grateful for text messages, but her heart twists for a moment when she glances up at the screen, watching her friend skillfully knit while she tells a story about the customers at her job. Lydia simply wishes she could hug her again.

It has always amazed and delighted her that she seems to learn something new about life, the world, or herself after a conversation with Joni. She’s learning about stockinette and right-leaning stitches, purl-wise and knit-wise and bind-offs, of course, but as the scarves take shape, their discussions deepen beyond even the light conversation between dear friends to fears, futures, and more.

Lydia shares stories of the animals in the menagerie and Joni shakes her head and laughs over Maxwell’s peacock obsession. (“Did I tell you about the time he officiated a peacock wedding?”) They ponder whether Joni’s boyfriend James will pop the question any time soon (“If he does, I hope he doesn’t do it at Christmas, that’s so cliche.”) and sometimes Lydia calls out a hello to him as he walks through the room in the background. (“Say hi to Max for me!” “You can text him yourself, you know!”)

As they start in on knitting the many stitches of the long, long tentacles, Joni asks about their corgi. “So you just have Wigglesworth, then? I’m really surprised that a couple with a panther, pandas, and a pride of peafowl only has one pet in the house.” They look up at each other and laugh at her unintentional alliteration.

Lydia’s smile is wistful and her hands still for a moment. “You know, I realized recently...now that we’re settled in here, it feels strange not to have a cat or two padding around. I’ve always had a cat. It was...just…” She takes a deep breath. “Charlie died eight days before I met the guys. The apartment was so lonely without him, and so sad. It made the decision all that much easier when Maxwell asked me to come to Cordonia with him. I wasn’t leaving anything behind, really.” She looks up at Joni quickly in the camera and waves her hand awkwardly. “I mean, I left you, of course. And Daniel. I do hope he’s okay. But...you knew what I meant, right?”

Joni smiles. “I knew what you meant.”

“So how’s your sweet little feline?”

She angles the laptop screen downward to show the old grey tabby asleep on her lap, completely unfazed by the yarn around him as he purrs in his sleep. “He’s sweet, but not so little. And he’s great. 12 this year.” She scratches behind his ears and smooths her hand across his fur affectionately. “I’m sure any man who saves a stray corgi off the street - which I still think is unbelievable, Lyd - and adopts two wild red pandas for you as a gift would love a few cats running around that big place with you. Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

Lydia recounts her stitches, having lost her place while lost in thought, and continues knitting. “I will, thanks.” She gives Joni a half-smile. “Crazy cat ladies unite, right?”

“Hell yes”

********

There are several close calls during this clandestine crafting operation. Once, retreating quickly, quietly, from her designated knitting room toward the end of the hall, she’d come upon him backing out of another rarely-used guest room and shrieked in surprise and fright in the shadowy hallway.

He’d jumped back against the door, hand still grasping the doorknob. “Whoa, Lyd, watch it! You’ll scare…” Catching himself, he’d paused for one long beat. “…everyone.”

“Who is everyone?” Still clutching her chest above her racing heart, she’d looked around the empty corridor, silent but for the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears. Before thinking, she’d asked, “And what are you doing up here?”

“What are you doing up here?”

Shit.

Knowing there was no use attempting even a white lie to her ever-perceptive husband, she’d decided quickly on an evasive truth. Hands up in surrender, she’d leveled with him. “It’s Christmas, Max. You can have your secrets, and I’ll have mine. Deal?”

“Deal,” he’d responded, satisfied.

Joni looked at her quizzically when they’d connected for a knitting session several days later. “Are you in a different room today?” she’d asked, as they each got out their white yarn and started in on the difficult task of stitching the eyes.

With less than two weeks to Christmas and so much work put into this surprise already, Lydia couldn’t be too careful.

*******

The suckers nearly do her in. After two days of working on them, not one is truly circular, and none are spaced correctly. Lydia finally throws down her needles and yarn in a frustrated huff, screeching in a manner rather unbefitting a duchess, “This is bullshit! Why did I ever think this was a good idea?”

Joni, who has been the model of patience so far in this endeavor, looks up from her perfect row of suckers two tentacles ahead and levels a stern gaze at her, gesturing with one needle toward the camera. “Because that man is honestly such a good, he changed your life forever and he deserves this insane scarf at the absolute least and the world at most. Because it’s your first Christmas together and this is worth it, I promise. Because you’re incredible and you can do anything you put your mind to, and I know you know that. Do you need more reasons? I have more.”

She shakes her head no and picks up the project again, simultaneously cowed and calmed, giving her friend a small smile as she counts the stitches to the placement of the next sucker. “Thanks, Jones,” she says quietly.

Joni returns her smile. “Anytime.” Looking back down at the yarn in her hands, she asks brightly, “So what do you think Maxwell got you for Christmas?”

********

Finally, finally, the project is complete. It’s a woeful imitation of the pattern’s accompanying example photo, but it’s done, and it’s clearly a squid, so that’s really all that matters at this point. Joni completed her scarf several days ago and has so far spent this knitting session sharing her tips and tricks for finishing up the stitches and making sure everything is in place. Lydia’s not sure everything actually is in place, but Christmas is four days away and when she holds the scarf up, nothing falls off. She and Joni both decide on success.

“You know, this may be the coolest scarf I’ve ever knitted...the coolest thing I’ve ever knitted! It’s certainly the most interesting one I’ve ever owned! The most flair I’ve ever added until now was tassels along the edge.” Joni’s smile is bright and genuine, clearly proud of both of them. “This is a real accomplishment for me - I can’t imagine how you must feel!”

“I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

Joni waves her hand at the camera. “You’re welcome, of course, but hey, I learned something new. That’s never a bad thing. And this time together…” She shakes her head slightly and trails off for a moment, collecting herself before looking back up. “I’ve missed you, Lyd.”

She swallows against the lump in her throat and smiles at her friend. “Me too. I think we’re overdue for a trip to New York. But you and James are always welcome here!” She gestures toward the room behind her. “We have twenty-two guest rooms just waiting for guests!” Thinking a moment, she amends, “Well, nineteen. One is Wigglesworth’s room, we just started working on the ball pit room I promised Maxwell, and I think this one will become my knitting room.”

“Hey, I know!” Joni exclaims, face lit up with excitement. “We can keep doing this! Not inordinately difficult squid scarves, obviously, but if you actually enjoy knitting, we can meet up this way to work on our projects together. Like a little knitting club! But we need a name…”

Lydia delivers her suggestion proudly as though it’s a royal decree. “We shall henceforth be known as the Knit-wits!”

“Oh, come on,” Joni groans. She shakes her head but can’t hide her smile. “Does Max appreciate your ridiculous puns?”

“Jones, you have no idea.”

********

She’d spent so much time researching how to knit before finally asking an expert that almost all her personalized ads on Pictagram are now knitting-related. She’s scrolling through idly at her desk in a quiet moment to herself when she comes across the perfect gift for her friend - a black t-shirt printed with a lovely woman whose hair is made of multicolored yarn, knitting needles sticking out at odd angles for hairpins, a beatific smile on her face as she reaches up with scissors to snip off a section. The fact that it says Yarn Goddess is the icing on the cake.

She orders it immediately, giddy with excitement. It won’t quite make it to New York by Christmas, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

********

The gift-giving portion of this lovely, quiet Christmas morning is wrapping up. New clothes - including several lacy pieces for Lydia - have been tried on and modeled, a small pile of items both fun and practical sit on the coffee table in front of them, and new books are stacked on the floor. Paper and bows are strewn everywhere. They’ve gone through half a box of tissues between them (“We’re ridiculous, you know that? What couple cries this much on Christmas morning?”) as gifts both special and simply surprising have been opened.

Maxwell is currently at the Christmas tree, giving his latest gift pride of place front and center. As he finds just the right spot for the ornament, she reaches up again to touch her new necklace - a simple aquamarine solitaire, so beautiful it needs no extravagant setting. The stone is a hue-perfect reminder of the crystalline ocean outside their honeymoon villa, a blissful memory in gemstone form. She watches him hold the ornament in the palm of his hand for just a moment after he hangs it on the tree, looking at it once more, and her chest tightens with emotion. She honestly never knew she could love someone so much.

He doesn’t even bother with a tissue this time, wiping his eyes with his hand as he flops back down on the sofa next to her, their knees touching on the center cushion. She smiles softly at him, thrilled that one of the gifts she was most excited to give him this morning had obviously hit its mark.

“Where did you even find that, Lyd? It’s amazing. Perfect.”

“Ah, Americans love to personalize things. We’ll personalize anything if it has enough space to write a name. And never underestimate the power of Google...though finding an ornament with a hippo couple under the mistletoe does seem like serendipity.” She looks over to the ornament on the tree, the branches sparkling even in the bright light of late morning. “But we know a thing or two about serendipity, don’t we?”

“We do,” he responds quietly, leaning back against the cushion with a smile. She’s eager to share his final gift with him, but she can’t resist scooting across the sofa to curl against his side. With his arms around her, it feels like a warm cocoon of holiday contentment. Breathing in his scent, listening to his heart beat, his hand combing gently through her hair, she could so easily fall asleep. The scarf was three months in the making, after all; it could wait another hour. Wigglesworth waddles over from his plush new dog bed and hops up on the sofa with them to join in the cuddling. After a few minutes, Maxwell breaks the cozy silence. “I still have one more gift for you.”

She looks up at him. “I do, too.”

“Oh! You first!”

Laughing at his renewed Christmas excitement, she reluctantly disentangles herself from him and gets up to grab the final gift package beneath the tree and places it in his lap. He tears at the paper until the mottled red blob of yarn is revealed, eyes widening as he lifts it up to see it in its full glory.

Lydia can see every imperfection in the stitching - the fact that two random tentacles are the better part of a foot longer than the other six, the eyes are too far apart and not even close to level, and one tentacle somehow ended up with three less suckers than the rest. But Maxwell runs his hand across the soft yarn with a look of awe, his grin brightening as he takes it all in.

“This is...where did you even get...wait, did you make this?” His wide eyes meet hers and she nods. “I didn’t know you could knit!”

“I didn’t either!” she laughs, “I mean, I learned. Joni taught me, actually.”

He’s already wrapping it around his neck as he asks, “How long did it take? It’s really...wow.”

She thinks back. “A little over three months.”

Suddenly her vision is filled with a swirl of knitted tentacles as he pounces across the sofa onto her. “Hey, one lord a-leaping! Careful!” But she’s laughing as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and gazes up at him, his eyes glistening again as he grins down at her.

“Three months? I can’t believe you took the time to make this for me. I can’t believe you remembered a dumbass comment I made almost a year ago. I...”

She cuts him off with a kiss. “Believe it,” she murmurs against his lips, before she pulls him closer, the tentacles between them draped softly around her shoulders.

Several long moments later, he pulls away with obvious reluctance and moves to sit up again. “Stay here, Christmas blossom. I’ll be right back.”

She watches him through the doorway as he hurries through the grand hall and past his namesake statue, who is currently wreathed along with his horse in Christmas boughs instead of the laurels of victory. She laughs to herself watching him bound up the stairs two at a time.

A few minutes later, he returns with a large gift box in his arms, adorned with a massive bow and making a...was that a scratching sound? She looks at him quizzically.

And then the contents of the box meow.

He sets the package on her lap and slowly lifts the lid, a tiny pink nose peeking through first, followed by two ginger paws, and then a third. Suddenly the kitten leaps from the box onto her chest, digging in his little claws and mewing loudly. Wigglesworth jumps down from the sofa and retreats to his dog bed, deciding it best to watch this scene unfold from afar. She wraps her hand around the kitten and carefully removes his claws from her pajama top. Holding him against her shoulder with both hands to calm him, she gazes down through her tears at his sweet ginger face before looking up at her husband. She couldn’t speak right now if she tried.

He pulls two tissues from the box on the coffee table and hands her both, taking the kitten from her to give her a chance to blow her nose.

As she wipes her eyes, Lydia watches as he holds the kitten to his scarf-covered chest, tiny claws snagging the stitches she so meticulously placed. But the kitten is the spitting image of her Charlie, and Molly before him - a beautiful ginger tabby with distinctly-striped legs and a ringed tail - and Maxwell is looking down at him with so much joy and love. Worrying about pulled stitches seems to be a waste in this happy moment.

He looks up at her with a hopeful expression in his eyes. “Do you...like him?”

“I love him, Max.” She reaches over to stroke down the kitten’s back and along his tiny tail. “I’m wondering how you got a cat in here without me knowing, but I love him.” Maxwell hands the kitten back to her and she holds him up to her face, touching her nose to his. He mews at her and rubs his face against her cheek. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“Well, the lady I adopted him from was calling him Oliver, so that’s what I’ve been calling him, too.”

Realization dawns on her. “Have you been keeping him in that guest bedroom in the west hallway?”

He nods, smiling. “We have a kitten room and you didn’t even know it!” Reaching over to give the kitten a scritch under his chin, he says, “Is the name okay? You can change it if you want.”

She brings the little feline up to her face again. “What do you think, my tiny pumpkin pie? Are you an Oliver?” she asks the cat.

Oliver responds with a loud mew.

She grins at her husband, who is proudly wearing the most ridiculous scarf on the planet.

“Welcome to our crazy family, Oliver.”

********

She’s just popped the top on a can of wet cat food, Oliver mewing near her feet and attempting to scale the leg of her jeans with his tiny kitten claws, when a member of the staff enters the kitchen with the mail. A puffy manila envelope rests on top. Lydia thanks him with a warm smile that grows wider when she sees the New York return address and familiar handwriting. Suddenly equally as excited for the mysterious package as Oliver is about his dinner, she fills his bowl to calm his insistent mews and sets about shredding the adhesive holding the envelope closed.

Tears spring to her eyes as she immediately recognizes the soft blues and greys of the yarn she’s seen in her friend’s hands over the past month of video chats. The tentacles on this scarf are of equal lengths, the eyes are set parallel, the suckers are evenly spaced. It’s obviously a superior version of the one Lydia gave Maxwell several days prior, but made with an equal amount of love. She knows because she watched its creation.

Wiping the tears from her eyes as she wraps the scarf around her neck, she pulls the tentacles of one side through the little knitted loop behind the squid’s face that gave them each so much grief. She laughs remembering their shared frustration and notes that the loop Joni knitted in looks far sturdier than the one she struggled over herself. She looks down at the delightfully silly squid face staring out from her chest and finally notices the note safety-pinned halfway down one long tentacle.

I hope you wear this in good health and so much happiness, no matter what you do or where you go.

Be amazing.

Be badass.

Be kind.

Be you.

I love you. - Joni

Lydia’s heart squeezes in her chest and fresh tears fill her eyes. It’s amazing, she thinks, how this little crafting adventure to create something special for the love of her life also brought her closer to a far-away friend. The whole thing began and ended with love.

Just then, Maxwell walks into the room, inexplicably wearing his own squid scarf indoors. He bends to give Oliver a few scritches while he eats, errant tentacles dragging on the floor momentarily, before he catches sight of his wife behind the island. He sees her tears first and concern crosses his face before she smiles and waves it off. “I’m fine. Happy tears,” she promises, wiping her eyes with one soft tentacle.

He nods and gives her an understanding half-smile, leaning back against the counter before he reaches for her scarf in surprise. “Hey! We match!”

We complement, she thinks, her scarf a mix of the cool blue of a buoyant ocean and the soft steel grey of the sky after a storm at sea.

She simply agrees, however, as she stands on tiptoes in her bare feet and reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. “I like it that way.”

“Me too,” he says quietly, smiling.

She presses her chest to his, the two squids kissing just a moment before their wearers do.

********

And of course, my inspiration came directly from canon:

The poor man never got his jello shots at the wedding, but the least I can do is get him that squid scarf.

#12 days of cordonian christmas #maxwell x lydia #my otp owns a piece of my heart #lydia and joni are pals #trr #merry christmas!#the fluffiest of fluff #maxwell x mc #mc x maxwell #the royal romance #fan fiction #long post

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iheartsurveys · 6 years

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185

When was the last time you had a slurpee?

No clue...I think it may have been on free slurpee day a few years ago

What is your favorite television show?

I suck at picking just one favorite thing but I think I have to say How I Met Your Mother. It’s just so good

What holiday will be coming up next?

Halloween

Have you ever done hard drugs before?

Nope

What is the worst name anyone has ever called you?

Bitch? Which isn’t that bad lol I mean it’s not the best but could be worse

What color are your eyes?

Plain ol brown

What does the last text you sent say?

Not sure and don’t feel like looking

When was the last time you cried out loud in front of someone?

Can’t remember. I cried on the phone with my mom last week but in front of someone, eh not sure

Where is your favorite place to eat out?

Cheesecake Factory even though it’s a place we only go like once or twice a year. It’s so damn good though

Does it bother you when people call you ‘ma'am’ or 'sir?’

It doesn’t bother me, just makes me feel old lol. Especially when like high school aged kids call me ma’am. So weird still

Have you ever been obsessed with a television character?

Not that I can recall

Do you ever wish you had powers of invisibility?

It’s not something I actively think about/wish for but I mean it’d be cool sometimes

What was the last thing that changed your life completely?

Um, moving out I guess? Even though it didn’t ~completely~ change my life. Not sure if anything has really

Do you have any step siblings?

Yup, two

Did you partake in senior skip days?

So I recall skipping on the day of the senior trip because I didn’t go and if you weren’t going they expected you to go to school. And then there was this one day where they changed the schedule around due to exams so it was first period, last period, then the middle one, and a lot of the seniors including me had half days, and they expected us to sit in the gym for hours over last period/lunch since they moved it and we all were unofficially like nah fuck that and left. I remember walking through the cafeteria near the side doors to the parking lot and seeing teachers blocking the doors with trashcans and making kids go in the auditorium so I took a left and walked out the front door lolllll good times

Do you have Showtime?

Not sure honestly

When was the last time you went to Wal-mart?

Like a month ish ago

Have you ever read the Christian Bible?

I don’t think so

Is there anything you’d like to say to anyone at the moment?

I need to have a convo with someone the next time I see him. It’d take me forever and a day to share so I’ll just say yes

Do you tend to cry a lot?

Nah I’ve been okay these days. I’ve gone through different times though that I would more often

When the holidays come around, do you help decorate?

I love decorating. Britt and I did some mild Fall decorating at our apartment and we’re most likely gonna get a tree when Christmas rolls around

Would you say you have more common sense or book sense?

I’d like to think an equal amount of both

Would you ever consider having an abortion?

Yes depending on the situation.

What does the majority of clothes in your closet look like?

Lots of neutrals

Has someone ever promised not to leave you?

With different words but yes

Do you have a part-time job?

Not currently

Do you order clothing offline quite often?

Offline...as in in person? I do an equal amount of in person/online shopping

Are you the type of person who likes to buy gifts for your friends?

We used to for birthdays/holidays but not for random occasions

Have you ever lived in an apartment before?

I do currently

Have you ever been questioned by the police?

In which state / country were you born?

NY, USA

Are you close to your parents?

Yeah. Definitely closer with my mom but dad and I are okay

Have you ever had to be put on medicine for a mental disorder?

I currently take medicine for anxiety. But I wasn’t “put on” I asked for it. My anxiety got pretty bad a few months ago and I knew I needed to do something, and I think some day I’d like to maybe see a therapist just to share my thoughts with but idk if I can afford that now so until then I’m managing

Would you say you have impressive grammar skills?

Lol my grammar skills are normal? I wouldn’t say they’re ~impressive~ but I also don’t really judge grammar like that

White chocolate or milk chocolate?

Milk

Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state?

Yeah, Six Flags NJ, Hershey Park, and Disney

Does your television connection ever go out during your favorite show?

My favorite show isn’t on air anymore, and I actually started it a few years after it started so mainly watched on DVD/Netflix

Would you rather be part of a team or alone?

Both are good. For work purposes I kinda currently work alone and I’m getting tired of it so having a team would be cool. But I’m also what I like to call an extroverted introvert and need my alone time too

Do you have a Tumblr?

No, what’s that?

Do you ever eavesdrop on people in hallways?

Not really? I’m also not really in a lot of hallways these days haha

Have you ever been punched in the stomach?

Is there anyone you’d like to be cuddling with at the moment?

My dog. Because men are stupid.

Would you consider yourself a crafty person?

Yeah I do pretty well in the craft department. I don’t do crafty things as often as I used to though

What would you say is your favorite color of all time?

Mint blue

Chinese or Mexican food?

Mexican

What do you normally drink when eating at a fast food restaurant?

The only fast food I eat these days is Chick-fil-a and I usually get lemonade or a chocolate milk shake

Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment?

Nope

Is there something important that you should be doing as of now?

Sleeping. Which I will as soon as this is done

Have you ever participated in Black Friday shopping?

Yes. It’s overrated

Describe your favorite outfit?

Idk what my favorite outfit is I have a few I like

What color are your nails painted right now, if any?

My toes are dark gray ish

Have you ever been responsible for someone’s death?

What is your biggest fear?

Biggest? Not sure. I’m afraid of bugs, things near my eyes, being alone forever, failure, etc

What is your favorite website to go on in your spare time?

Twitter or tumblr

What do you normally order when you go to Taco Bell?

I don’t go to Taco Bell

Do you ever spend the night with your significant other?

I’m single af but when dating people in the past I have before

What is your favorite number?

Do you know a lot about serial killers?

I studied Criminology so probably more than the average person lol

Has your life ever been challenged by something huge?

Not that I can think of

Have the police ever been looking for you?

Where do you get most of your accessories from?

Not sure, maybe Target? Or Charming Charlie they have decent accessories

Have you ever been in a car accident?

Just a fender bender

Do you cuss more than any one else you know?

Nah

When was the last time you kissed someone who was younger than you?

Two years ago aka the last time I kissed anyone lollllllllll

How old is your youngest cousin?

Are you currently in a happy relationship?

Single af as I mentioned before

Where did your last kiss take place and at what time of day?

Andrew’s room in the morning

How do YOU download music?

I use Apple Music

Do you tend to talk on the phone a lot?

Not really

Have there ever been any serial killers around your hometown?

When was the last time you went to a museum?

I’m not sure actually. Last year?

Is heartbreak as bad as it sounds?

It sucks

What was your first job?

Babysitter

Do you prefer shades or mini-blinds?

(holy shit this survey is longer than I thought) Shades

What is the weather like outside?

In the 50s I think. Supposed to rain but idk when

Do you ever find yourself talking to someone who isn’t even there?

Sometimes I’ll go to the store with my mom and think she’s by me and say something and then I’m like shit she’s not there

Do you normally have nightmares or good dreams?

I have weird dreams

What do people compliment you on the most?

My hair I think

Are you jealous of any of your friends?

Currently no but I have been before

Are you more of an open person or closed to communication?

It depends on who with. I can be open with close friends/family

Do you know how to shoot a gun and hit a target?

I haven’t shot a gun before

Are you a good listener?

Yes I think so

What is your favorite drink?

I’ve been super into Apple Cider since it’s Fall and all

What is something you always tend to lose?

The backs to my earrings

Do you buy more things for yourself or others?

Myself probably

If you chew gum, which kind is your favorite?

Just minty kinds

Is there anyone you know in which you’d like to simply punch in the face?

Hahaha absolutely

Do you like listening to foreign music?

I don’t typically

What turns you on the most?

Neck kissing, lip biting, a nice stable attractive man who knows what he wants in life (haven’t met one of those in a while sadly)

Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex?

Yes

#survey #surveys

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flauntpage · 6 years

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The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete

When I was a kid playing sports, adults told me that it didn’t matter if I won or lost. I did a tremendous job taking this to heart. I dogged it on sprints, turned in REAL mediocre performances day after day, and basically stopped thinking about whatever game I was playing the second I left the field. “Eh, whatever,” was the call of my athletic career, my demon’s yawp, deep from the bottom of my lungs. In retrospect, this was probably not the best thing I could have done with my time on the field. There was a second half of that saying that I did a pretty spectacular job of ignoring, though: “It’s the way you play the game."

There were lessons to be learned from devoting oneself to the pursuit of a certain kind of personal excellence that sports can manifest, and I cast them off and mostly didn’t give a shit. Instead of gassing myself out on the field, I loafed. Instead of devoting myself to understanding the nuances of The Game, I did what occurred to me up top and shrugged my shoulders when it didn’t work out. Instead of devoting myself to TRAINING, I kicked back in my room and read a giant fucking pile of Peanuts anthologies I bought at a garage sale.

Last week, @Peanuts50YrsAgo, a fabulous Twitter account that posts the edition of Charles Schulz’s sprawling comic strip masterwork that was originally published 50 years ago that day, told a sports story that is the opposite of my own. A tale of failure that is not yanked out from the root, as mine was, but instead allowed to take hold and sprawl and reach out towards the sun, a hideous, life-annihilating monstrosity that is the manifestation of a dystopian application of a particular sort of self confidence and desire that I will call the Athlete Mindset.

The story begins with our hero, Charlie Brown, standing on the baseball mound, the site of so many of his most profound failures. For those not familiar, in his ill-defined neighborhood team’s structure, Charlie is, seemingly because he is the only person who wants it, his team’s manager and pitcher. He is not very good at either task, getting lit up in strip after strip, for year after year, occasionally suffering the pure indignity of a line drive hitting him and knocking all of his clothes off, while the rest of his teammates—including his dog, the consensus best player—just kind of don't give a shit. There's a very simple reason for this grim outlook: you don't make the finest work of comic art of the latter half of the 20th century by writing a comic where the main character gets what he wants, you do it by distilling your tremendous depression into a daily comic strip aimed, presumably, at children.

Anyway, Charlie looks out and sees “The Little Red-Haired Girl,” a girl never once seen by the readership, who is the object of all his romantic desires and dreams. She is watching his baseball game, and he sits there, alone on that mound, and just dreads.

One presumes that Charlie is going to be embarrassed in his customary manner, a line drive stripping him to his skivvies, becoming the object of Lucy’s ridicule. But Schulz must have been feeling particularly ornery that week, because the fate he manages to cook up for the pen-and-paper manifestation of all the worst things we imagine about ourselves is EVEN FUCKING WORSE.

Instead, Schroeder, game-managing catcher and dispassionate, the technically-gifted artist that he is, asks what is going on. Charlie Brown tells him the subject of his distant, tormented affection is in the stands. Schroeder, who knows his man is just, like, entirely too in his head to really make it happen—whether that's pitching, or talking to that girl, or ANYTHING, really—walks away while Charlie Brown makes a whole world of his own success in his head. It lasts exactly one panel.

Charlie Brown, apparently playing in a league without balk rules, immediately seizes up and cannot throw. He shakes and proceeds to have what is, for all intents and purposes, a panic attack. Lucy also calls him a dog, which, I mean, he is a blockhead and it’s hard to act like he doesn’t deserve it, on some level.

Charlie Brown’s best friend, Linus, feeling for his man, guides him off the field and takes him home, where he gets into bed and continues freaking the hell out, trying to use his vision of a better world to coax himself out of his lengthy panic episode.

For those who are not intimately familiar with anxiety disorders, this does not work. Ever. Generally, you are supposed to accept the worst case scenario, accept that it could probably happen, and try to move on from there, devoting yourself to doing your best and hoping it turns out okay. Unfortunately, Charlie Brown hasn’t been told this, yet. God hopes he was, eventually.

Three hours later, presumably, Charlie Brown feels better and heads back to the field, where he is informed that the game went on without him—probably a good move, considering he was having a debilitating anxiety episode—that Linus pitched, very well, and his team, which never manages to win for some reason or another, has won in his absence. AND THEN, just to add insult to injury, The Red-Haired Girl got up, ran to the mound, and gave Linus a big hug on account of his tremendous athletic prowess, the very dream scenario Charlie envisioned for himself before reality burst that bubble.

Charlie is relentless, though. Just likeC.J. McCollum has spent the entire summer displaying the purity of the Athlete Mindset by aggressively reminding everyone that he is, in fact, not a loser just because he doesn't play for the Warriors and quite frankly WANTS TO WIN THE RIGHT WAY, Charlie Brown will die on this hill, which is more of a mound, but whatever. He fucking refuses to get off that thing even though, clearly, Linus or Snoopy or whoever the fuck is dramatically superior at pitching than he is. He refuses to stop declaring himself the manager, desiring control of everything, even though no one listens to him and Lucy, his teammate, seems to be playing almost entirely to belittle him. He ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT try a game that isn’t baseball, because the subject of those rambling dreams in his head is baseball, and he figures that, goddammit, all he needs to do is POWER THROUGH and he can MAKE MANIFEST THE VICTORIES OF HIS DREAMS.

This works, when you have talent! High level athletes are psychos in this exact way, creating fantasies about themselves and bleeding and dying to make those fantasies reality, managing to climb mountains of money to look out on the horizon and survey the vast kingdoms of their victories, one right after another, while still never being satisfied.

What Schulz creates in Charlie Brown’s baseball career is a pure neurotic flip of that dream, a nightmare where a young man is given pure Athlete Mindset, a need to succeed on his own terms and a craving for success and the love that comes along with success, that is COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY impossible due to a combination of his pure lack of physical or tactical talent and the immense neurosis growing out of that need.

His is the story of the kid Max Scherzer struck out looking time after time in high school, the poor, committed sap Allen Iverson dominated when he was 12, the myriad high schoolers who dreamed of quarterback glory only to watch Matt Ryan steal it away from them, the kids who might have the same ambition and drive and craving for glory of even the fringiest European NBA Prospect, but who quite simply didn’t have the talent or the mental gifts to come even close to making it happen. It wasn’t me, of course, and thank God for that. That shit is a curse more than it’s a blessing, unless you’re walking around with the tools to make your dreams come true. Without those tools, you'd probably lose your shirt, too.

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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thisishowyouletgoandfindyou-blog · 7 years

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10 Things I Find Sexy in a Man (that Aren’t All About Sex).

Via

Melanie Curtin

on Jan 28, 2013

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Image Source: inspire.maxtonmen.com via Kevin on Pinterest

I love men. I love how they move, how they sit, how they kiss.

I love how they play air guitar, quote Wedding Crashers, man the grill and roughhouse together.

I love to hear them bitch about their sports team losing, observe them trying (and failing) to be subtle when checking me out, or watch them wrestle their dog. I love how they beat the steering wheel when they get really into a song, how they posture when a really hot girl walks by, and how most of them genuinely want to be good lovers. I love how different they are from me and how similar they are underneath.

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And don’t get me wrong—I love a man with a six-pack, with that to-die-for body. But when it really comes down to it, the things that make a man sexy have very little to do with the packaging.

Here are the top 10 “non-packaging related” things I find sexy in a man.

10. Lift Me Up

The guy that picks me up and spins me around, or holds me tightly with my arms and legs wrapped right around him, will always win my heart. Depending on the context, it is one of the sexiest, most comforting or most erotic of experiences. Even if we’re not dating, I always feel happy and free and feminine.

Perhaps it is the reminder of your strength, or my petite-ness, or both at the same time. Perhaps it’s the sensual, spontaneous experience of the way we fit together, the way our bodies are connected in that moment. Perhaps it’s just the fact that you’re bigger than me.

Whatever it is, it’s sexy.

9. Open Doors & Give Up Seats

I find it annoying when people say chivalry is dead. It’s not. It’s alive and kicking—yes, even in the younger generation.

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I know this because, amongst other things, I ride the NYC subway. There, I’ve experienced many men—good men, great men—give up their seats for the elderly (both women and men), open doors for others and help me lift my (many) suitcases up the (many) stairs. To them I say, I salute you. I thank you.

Some women hate it when men open doors for them. They may interpret it as a statement that they can’t take care of themselves, or that they’re somehow less independent because a man is doing something for them.

I am not one of those women. I love it when a man carries my groceries for me, lets me go ahead of him in line, opens a door for me or schleps my luggage.

I know I could do these things by myself, for myself. I’ve done them plenty of times. But when someone else does it, it really does make my life a little bit easier. I feel taken care of. Especially in cities, where we spend a lot of our time with headphones on, consciously ignoring everyone around us, it feels really good to be noticed. The way these men are says, “I see you and I care about you, simply because you’re alive.”

I also look at that guy who just gave up his seat in a new light. He comes across as strong, aware, trustworthy, significant. He comes across like a man.

8. Initiate Middle-of-the-Night Sex

If you know how to do this right (slooowly, softly, gently), it is one of the sexiest things in the world. I love the feeling of being touched between states of consciousness, of arousal before awareness. I adore the dissolving quality of dark, sleepy caresses, the extension of the dreamlike state of not knowing where you stop and I begin.

And I love the slow build, the way a man who knows what he’s doing carefully rearranges my body for me, gently positioning me so that I don’t have to do anything. The fact that he’s guiding the situation, softly but firmly in control, means that I can just lay there languidly and enjoy the ride.

Yes, please. Over and over and three times on Sunday.

7. Deal With Sh*t

I have many talents. I can speak five languages. I’m a good writer. I’m exquisitely empathetic. I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit. I can even dance the tango at a near-professional level.

However, I suck at practical, common sense stuff. I can barely change a light bulb, let alone fix sh*t around the house.

But my dude roommate can. And I gotta tell you, it’s sexy. I came home the other day and a set of lights that had been out for months (literally months!) were fixed. Just like that. Ditto the thermostat. When I asked him how he did it, all I heard was, “Wah wah wah,” like Charlie Brown’s mother. I didn’t follow it because I just don’t care. I do, however, care that I can now actually see objects in the living room.

I get that this is a cliché—trust me, I do. It’s also true I find it somehow deeply satisfying that men are distinct. I love that I’m good at things that they’re not, and that they effortlessly do things I don’t understand at all. I compliment you for complementing me. I get to relax because you just take care of sh*t. It’s freeing.

It’s also sexy.

6. Be Super Solid While I’m Freaking Out

When I am absolutely losing it about something (legitimate or not), I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t need to be told what to do, I don’t need advice, and I certainly don’t need someone to tell me to calm down.

I just need to be witnessed.

That’s right, when I’m on my crazy train, I don’t want a man to try to stop it (he won’t be able to, anyway). I just want him to be with me while I’m on it. I want to know I’m not alone.

So the man who quietly listens, who takes it all in without taking it too seriously, is unbelievably sexy. He is sexy in his solidity, he’s sexy in his presence, he’s sexy in his naturally grounded nature. He’s extra super really sexy when I can tell that not only is he not intimidated by my freakout, he’s actually (respectfully) entertained by it—he welcomes it.

Those exceptional men I’ve been with who enjoy the ride, who witness my storms or those of other women with a knowing look, a wisdom that goes beyond my high-strung-ness or defensiveness or just general freakout, are rare.

They’re also sexy.

5. Play With Kids

Straight up, it is hot when a man is genuinely good at playing with kids. This does not include faking it to get attention from women—obviously that’s a huge turnoff (and dude, we’re biologically made to know when you’re faking it). No, it’s only—and very—hot when he actually likes them. It’s probably something primordial, basic, an animalistic understanding that he’d be good at playing with our kids. But who cares?

Because it’s not just a sweet moment, like, “Awww, look how good he is with that kid.” It’s an actual, visceral turn-on—I literally feel a tingling in my nether regions. It doesn’t make me want to have babies with you, but it sure makes me want to make them with you.

(Just kidding. Sort of.)

4. Accept Emotions

I recently called a guy friend to let him know that I was on my way to meeting up, but I wasn’t feeling all that great. Being a little sad and irritable, I said, “Sorry in advance for not being very fun. I’m going to try to get into a better mood.”

Do you know what he said?

“If you are, great. If not, great. Whatever you got, bring it.”

I felt so accepted I started to tear up. I knew it would be okay even if I wasn’t okay—that I wouldn’t be blamed or shamed for not being cheerful or upbeat. I could bring my truth—my real truth—and he would still be there.

I wasn’t a problem.

When a man resists emotions—mine or his own, I feel repressed and uncomfortable. A roiling sensation in my stomach builds, that I just can’t kick. And in my experience, many men (many people, but men in particular) are threatened by emotions like sadness, anger, or fear. They want to fix it right away to soothe their own anxiety. They can’t tolerate the idea that a woman is unhappy. They can’t tolerate the idea that they might be blamed for it.

Then there is the man who accepts me in all of my facets, not just the ‘pretty’ ones. He has learned to be with emotion—just be with it. He doesn’t feel the need to make it go away or turn it into something else. He just accepts, and genuinely wants to know.

With him, I feel deeply safe. I know I can bring all of me, and he’s going to be able to handle it. I don’t have to manage his experience of me. I can just be.

And the fact that he wants to know me makes me want to know him.

Biblically.

3. Care About His Friends

I fell in love with my last boyfriend in stages. The first was one night when we sat in his truck outside his place while he called his best friend, who had just lost his grandfather. He listened, made manly sounds of sympathy (like grunts), asked about his friend’s family members, told his friend he loved him in his own way, and promptly got off the phone.

It was brief, but real and heartfelt. And when I saw him care about his friend—really care about him, but in a totally different way than I care about my female friends—I fell pretty hard.

I think he was surprised by how much I wanted him after that phone call. I may or may not have given him a minute, then attacked him right there in the truck.

2. Show His Backbone

If you’re my man, I want you to be vulnerable with me. I love watching you agonize over which stuffed animal your three-year-old niece would like better: the panda or the whale? I enjoy when you tell me about something that’s hard for you to admit about your past, or how you didn’t have it all together for that presentation at work today, or when you own up to just how much you want me to like the necklace you just gave me (and how stressed you are that maybe I don’t).

I cherish those moments.

But it also turns me on when you have to be a hardass and you’re willing to go there. Pointless aggression is a turn-off, but watching a man enforce strong boundaries is a huge turn-on. It’s hot when a man stands up for himself by telling his boss to find someone else to work this weekend, or puts his foot down with the slacker on his team, or quietly but firmly tells his brother that he can’t borrow the car (given that he drove it drunk the last time he did). Even when it’s directed at me, I love seeing that fire within you, that point of resistance that says no.

In fact, your “no “has me saying yes.

Yes, yes, yessss.

Listen

The sexiest thing a man can do is listen to me—all of me. With all of him.

Some men don’t listen at all. They just don’t. They talk about themselves ad nauseum and then wonder what happened when I wander away. These men are generally referred to as “douchebags.”

Other men listen in such a manner that they practically collapse into me. They fall all over themselves to “do” listening right, keeping their focus and attention so on me that they lose themselves. In a way, they actually stop listening in their attempt to prove how well they do listen. These men are generally known as “nice guys.”

Either way, not sexy.

Then there is the man who maintains his own core while also holding space for me.

This man has a way of drawing out my deepest truth simply by being fully present. He isn’t thinking about what to say next, whether I still like him, how to get me to stop crying, or what to do now. He’s just noticing me, tracking me, attuning himself to me. He’s letting the moment unfold without trying to control it. And him taking the lead in this way has me stop trying to control it as well. Which feels good.

This man listens to what I’m saying and what I’m not saying; he listens with his body as well as his heart. He listens with his mind, with his emotions, with his curiosity, with his soul. He asks questions when the time is right, because he really wants to understand, not because he wants to coach me to get somewhere else. He listens to all of me, with all of him.

When I am in his presence, my entire being relaxes. I become more gracious, more present, more in flow. I am expressive without being self-conscious.

I am emotional without being reactive. I am beautiful without being perfect. I feel safe, I feel seen, I feel radiant.

In other words, I feel like a woman. With a man.

And that is sexy.

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flauntpage · 6 years

Text

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete

Charlie is relentless, though. Just like C.J. McCollum has spent the entire summer displaying the purity of the Athlete Mindset by aggressively reminding everyone that he is, in fact, not a loser just because he doesn't play for the Warriors and quite frankly WANTS TO WIN THE RIGHT WAY, Charlie Brown will die on this hill, which is more of a mound, but whatever. He fucking refuses to get off that thing even though, clearly, Linus or Snoopy or whoever the fuck is dramatically superior at pitching than he is. He refuses to stop declaring himself the manager, desiring control of everything, even though no one listens to him and Lucy, his teammate, seems to be playing almost entirely to belittle him. He ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT try a game that isn’t baseball, because the subject of those rambling dreams in his head is baseball, and he figures that, goddammit, all he needs to do is POWER THROUGH and he can MAKE MANIFEST THE VICTORIES OF HIS DREAMS.

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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