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wheresmynaya · 5 months

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Blame it on the Mistletoe Ch. 4| Brittana

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Holiday decorating at the Understudy has officially begun! Santana makes her way through the restaurant skeptically eyeing all the décor. She can definitely tell which is Kurt’s and which is Rachel’s handy work – both, however, are so over the top that it starts to blend together the longer she stares.

“My God, where did you get all of this stuff?” Santana asks in wonder. “Is there a line of kids wrapped around the building expecting to get their picture taken with Santa? If so, which one of you is dressing up? I suggest Rachel.”

“Don’t offend me. This is tasteful!” Kurt protests. “At least, this area is. I’ll have to make adjustments to Rachel’s side.”

“You will do no such thing! I am very proud of this,” Rachel says. “Look at the lights, it’s magical!”

“Yeah. That’s probably a fire hazard,” Santana mutters at the excessive amount of string lights and garland. It’s nice-looking, but entirely too much. Leave it to Rachel and Kurt to show a lack of restraint when it comes to decorating though.

As she travels deeper into the dining room, she can hear Christmas music playing over the sound system. It doesn’t really fit their aesthetic and honestly, it’s kind of distracting compared to the classical showtunes instrumentals they used to play.

“Who changed the music?” Santana asks when she spots Kurt and Rachel arguing over tinsel.

“I did!” Rachel proclaims. “Don’t you love it? I created the playlist myself, I’ve spent hours handpicking each and every song. I even put them in order!”

“I thought we had the password changed?” Santana asks Kurt.

Kurt shrugs. “We did. She must’ve cracked the code.”

“Rachelsux123 isn’t very imaginative,” Rachel frowns. “It’s also rude.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t go with my first choice,” Santana jokes. “I would’ve probably ended up in HR.”

“Well, say what you want but it’s Christmas and that means we’re playing Christmas music.”

“I’m not dissing it; I love my Christmas jams!” Santana replies. “But you couldn’t find a better playlist? The last thing anyone wants to hear while they’re trying to enjoy a meal is the sound of high-pitched chipmunks.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it when she leaves,” Kurt whispers to her.

“Thank you,” Santana mouths back.

“This event is going to be spectacular!” Rachel cheers seemingly unfazed by Santana and Kurt. “Marketing has made these cute promos. We’re getting in special paper for the menus that are pine scented.”

“Scratch and sniff menus? Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more festive…”

“Oh yes, Santana. They’re also dusted with gold to resemble the flicker of Christmas lights! They’re stunning. My dads said they will be sparing no expense!”

“Well, there goes my Christmas bonus,” Kurt jokes.

“Yeah, mine too!”

“Well have no fear, we can reuse everything for our staff party!”

“Are we really?” Kurt frowns. “I might have to rethink some things. Are we sold on the placement of the Christmas tree?”

“And on that note, I’m gonna go. It’s looking decent though, I trust Kurt will work his magic,” Santana continues her way to the kitchen. “I’m going to check on Quinn. Please, don’t burn anything down out here. Remember, less is more!”

With the arrival of the new menu, comes the immense pressure to ensure Santana’s vision comes to life. So far, she has received raving reviews from the locals – she didn’t expect anything less. Her crew is a well-oiled machine and watching them work during the peak of a dinner service rush is better than watching anything on Broadway.

Even Rachel would have to agree with her on that!

Despite the holidays around the corner, there’s always a chance that a reviewer or critic will make a surprise appearance so every service has to be flawless. They love sneaking in an attempt to catch her off guard, so the key is to always be ready – consistency equals success.

On a particularly busy night, Santana gets a familiar funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. That funny feeling usually results in a surprise visit so she takes extra care in setting up the Pass and making sure the line chefs are on their A-game. She checks over everything to ensure it’s perfect; the acidity level in the beurre blanc, the crispiness of the skin on the tea-smoked chicken, the caramelization on the cauliflower florets.

“We’re ready,” Quinn assures Santana. “I’ll keep an eye on proteins.”

“Thanks.” Santana moves to the Pass and triple checks her garnish trays one last time before the first docket prints. She pulls it from the printer and reads aloud, “Two gazpacho. One cauliflower. One trout.”

“Heard!” The chorus of chefs call back.

Within a few minutes, service truly begins. Santana loves the way the kitchen comes alive with each sound of another docket printed. She thrives in the hustle and bustle even if she only keeps a watchful eye on her team. Standing ahead of them, leading them – she gets such a thrill.

“Santana, there’s a VIP requesting to meet you.”

Santana looks up from the Pass and finds Kurt lingering by the door hours later. Could this be it? Although, a critic has never requested to meet with her but her Mexican Third Eye would never lead her astray. Then again, she’s also too busy to abandon her station just to rub elbows with someone. Her food should speak for itself!

“Is this a reviewer?”

“No, Rachel did this but I think you two would hit it off.”

“What?” Santana looks up again. “Are you trying to set me up? Now? Did they even request to see me?”

“Does it matter? Kurt shrugs. “Maybe that’s the reason you’ve been in a mood. You need your motor revved.”

“Excuse me?” Santana gasps. Thankfully none of her staff heard his comment, if they did they were very good at hiding it. She calls for Quinn to take her place so she can make the short walk over to him. “My motor is revved each night I stand at that Pass and oversee this service.”

“You know what I mean. When’s the last time you had a little fun?” Kurt replies. “I’m saying this as a friend. Just take a look. She’s gorgeous and sitting alone.”

“People do that, it’s totally fine going out by yourself. In fact, more people should do it. Besides, I don’t know if I trust you after the last time. Your gaydar needs some serious help.”

“I’m sure about this one,” Kurt says. “No question about it. She’s even wearing flannel.”

“You can’t assume someone’s sexuality based on their choice of button-up. You know it’s very popular at this time of the year.”

“I know and it’s heartbreaking but dare I say – she’s pulling it off.”

Santana would be lying if she wasn’t a little intrigued. Not because she’s interested in meeting someone new, but because she wants to see who has Kurt complimenting flannel.

“Just come say hi,” Kurt coaxes.

Santana looks over at the Pass and finds Quinn easily handling the service. There’s actually a lull between dockets so it’s the perfect time to make an appearance. She can’t believe she’s considering it!

“How do I look?” She asks Kurt.

Kurt gives her a once over. “Acceptable given the circumstances. Come on.”

The moment Santana’s dragged too far from the kitchen to turn back; she digs in her heels.

That’s no VIP.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Santana mutters beneath her breath.

Brittany looks up from reading the menu and grins. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Kurt looks confused but quickly replaces it when they arrive at Brittany’s table. “Miss Pierce, this is our Executive Chef Santana Lopez. Chef Lopez, this is – ”

“Hi Brittany,” Santana greets. She fakes a smile while in the view of other patrons and glances at Kurt. “Kurt…you’re fired.”

“What? Do you two know each other?”

“Yes,” Santana replies.

“Intimately,” Brittany says. Her answer nearly sends Santana into a coughing fit, but she miraculously keeps her composure.

“Oh. Well, I’ll leave you to it,” He says and scurries off.

“What are you doing here?” Santana asks.

“You don’t want to talk and you won’t have dinner with me so I figured this was the next best thing,” Brittany explains.

“Seriously?”

“Totally.” Brittany gestures to the empty chair across from her. “You gonna join me?”

Santana can’t really run off too so she takes a seat. “I didn’t see your name on the bookings for tonight.”

“Rachel invited me,” Brittany admits. “She said it was a Welcome to the Neighborhood thing but then she didn’t show so I’m a little confused. I think I got stood up.”

“She’s here,” Santana says as she checks the time. “Brad should be in at any minute too and Rachel’s probably off warming up.”

“Who’s Brad and what is she warming up for?”

“On Friday nights, Rachel does a performance and you have a front row seat. Brad’s her pianist.”

“Oh! I thought that was just for decoration,” Brittany gestures to the shiny black piano tucked away in the corner of the room. There’s lush garland dotted with twinkling lights draped over the top and the bench has been swapped for one with a velvet red cushion.

“Nope. It’s apparently a long-standing tradition here. I told her the singing is probably what scared off the customers before I got here but she’s convinced she’s the reason why they’ve stayed,” Santana explains. “Whatever helps her sleep at night.”

“Well, dinner and a show. That’s kind of cool,” Brittany says. “Do you play any still?”

“With what time?” Santana laughs.

“True. This industry kind of makes it hard to have hobbies.”

“That’s right.” Santana nods to the menu still in Brittany’s hands. “Now, are you actually going to order or are you just taking up a table?”

“You’re a little rusty on your table service,” Brittany teases before tapping her finger on the menu. “I’ve ordered. The whole town is talking about this. I’ve always envied how you make a menu. Which dish is your favorite?”

Santana quirks a brow. “Why? Running out of ideas?”

“No, but it would be nice to have someone to bounce idea off of,” Brittany explains honestly. “I haven’t been feeling very innovative since I’ve come back.”

“So you’re here to check out the competition…”

“Sorry to interrupt, Chef. I have your starters.” One of the waitstaff appears with two dishes. In one hand, the wagyu tartare with smoked onion emulsion and potato rosti. In the other, the grilled asparagus garnished with a parmesan crisp and beurre blanc. He does well to explain the dishes despite looking a little nervous with Santana in his audience.

“Beautiful. Thank you!” Brittany says politely to him. She waits until the waitstaff leaves before continuing her conversation with Santana. “See? I’m here to be supportive. This is a great looking menu after all and I have been meaning to visit for a while.”

Santana nods as she watches Brittany take her first bite.

“Plus, I’m trying to figure out how I can get you to cook with me again.”

The comment catches Santana off-guard. “Are you trying to poach me?”

“This place is very nice, very expensive looking, all black everything…” Brittany comments. “But it’s not your style. Not anymore, at least.”

Santana laughs. “What would you know about my style?”

“Lots!” Brittany says simply before moving to try the other dish. “Maybe I’ve been gone for a bit but I still know you. This place is like your comfort zone, it’s what people would expect from you, which is fine because this is your first Executive position and you’re killing it.”

“But?”

“But it’s kind of pretentious.”

Santana scoffs. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m not trying to be rude. I’m sure you see that there’s too much technicality for the sake of it. You know, it’s too flashy.” She points to a line on the menu, “Why does this even need gold leaf? And dry ice? You can’t stand chefs who use that.”

“You do know the Understudy is a theatre inspired restaurant, right? The flare is the whole point.”

“I know, which is cool and unique but it’s not you,” Brittany says. “You’re better than this.”

“Well I didn’t really have a choice when you left the way you did,” Santana replies. “The position that I was offered was already filled so it wasn’t like I could go asking for it back so I had to find somewhere else fast. I couldn’t be picky.”

“I get that. You adapt wherever you are but what if you didn’t have to do that?”

Santana eyes her suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve seen the way you light up on Market Days and being in that atmosphere. It’s different working for yourself, you have complete creative control.”

“I have that here.”

“No you don’t. You said it yourself; this place is theater-inspired so you have to hang onto certain elements that fit the theme,” Brittany replies. “What if I knew a place where you didn’t have to do that? The ingredients and the people who grow them are the only things that matter there.”

“Where might that be?” Santana asks. “The restaurant you opened without me?”

Brittany slumps back and groans. “You’re gonna be hanging that one over my head for a while, huh?”

“Apologies. Sorry for interrupting again, here is the next course.” One wait staff comes around and clears the plates while another presents the dish. “This is lobster with truffle butter, preserved lemon and shell cream orzo.”

Brittany smiles as she thanks them but the awkward tension is very much there.

“Britt, you were gone for a year then reappeared with apparently enough money to start a business and now you’re trying to poach me to work for you. It’s not really something I can get over.”

“Will you stop saying it was a year?” Brittany gripes. “It was ten months and fifteen days.”

“Does it even matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” Brittany says and she actually sounds offended that Santana would think otherwise. “The only thing that made my time away feel less sucky was counting down the days until it was over. That was a really difficult time and I couldn’t even talk to you about it. I still can’t. So yeah, it matters.”

Santana frowns, unsure how to interpret that. Why would she be counting the days? She took that job all on her own, if she didn’t want it then why did she go? Why couldn’t she talk to her about it? She was angry, but she was still there for her if she needed.

None of it makes sense but sitting in the middle of the restaurant during service isn’t really the time nor the place to get into it. Judging by the way Brittany seems to shy away from her now, Santana guesses she isn’t the only one who wants to put a pin in this.

“The show is starting soon, I should go ba – “

“Wait.” Brittany catches her hand across the table but lets go a split second later. “Don’t go yet.”

Santana finds herself hesitating.

“It’s been a while since I had company during dinner,” Brittany mentions. “It’s nice, even if we’re arguing. If you have to go though, I understand.”

Santana shakes her head. Quinn has no problem holding down the fort in her absence, she nailed that long before Santana signed on.

“How does everything taste so far?” She asks in favor of changing the subject.

“Amazing!” Brittany beams. “Not that I expected anything less.”

“The dry ice not too pretentious for you?” Santana teases as the smoke of it wafts around the dish.

“I’m sticking by what I said before – the dish really doesn’t need it. I get the drama of it all though.”

“Good,” Santana says while Brittany eats.

They end up sharing the lobster after Brittany makes a comment about how weird it is to be the only one at the table eating. Santana figured she had a point. It’s kind of nice sharing a meal together, she hadn’t realized she has been eating dinner alone too. Family meal doesn’t really count, she mostly picks at her food anyway – but this, having dinner with Brittany, brings back a lot of memories she didn’t need.

“Good evening, I’m Rachel Berry.”

Santana instantly cringes. “Oh God, here we go…”

“I hope you’re all enjoying the fantastic new menu put together by the talented Chef Santana Lopez,” Rachel says into the mic. “Where’s the spot? Can we get a spot on her?”

“No, no. We don’t need a spotli – “ Santana’s words are cut short when a light shines down on her. The restaurant erupts in applause but Santana can’t stand it.

“There she is! The amazing and talented Chef Santana Lopez. Give her a round of applause.”

“Smile, San!” Brittany snickers and Santana attempts to force one on. “Try harder, you look like you’re in pain.”

“That’s because I am,” Santana quips. “I hate when she does this.”

“We’re lucky to have you, Chef! Okay, back on me.” Rachel calls out and suddenly the light moves on. “Wonderful, thanks. Onto the show! This first song I will be singing is actually going to be a duet. Kurt! Kurt, come out.”

“Pretty sure he has already,” Santana grumbles beneath her breath.

“I’m here!” Kurt announces as he prances through the restaurant. “I had to get my special mic.”

Brittany claps along with everyone else in the room as Kurt joins Rachel over by the piano. “This is so great. Everyone’s so committed to the theme!”

“Or they won’t let their Broadway dreams rest in peace,” Santana comments.

“See? I just know you’d be happier working with me,” Brittany teases.

“Another bold statement, but I’m perfectly fine where I am.”

“Are you though?”

“I run my own kitchen. I’ve got top of the line equipment, my Sous Chef is actually competent, and I get a nice paycheck. I’m good.”

“So there’s no way I could persuade you?”

“Nope.” Santana nods to the menu still in Brittany’s hands. “What are you thinking for dessert?”

“Miss Maggie has been raving about this galette of yours so I’m curious. You’ve always struggled with baking. You hate measuring.”

“I’ve learned a thing or two while being out here,” Santana counters as she rises from her seat. She gets the feeling that Brittany’s doubtful but that only pushes Santana to prove her wrong. Besides, it wasn’t that she struggled with it – she just preferred cooking that didn’t require being exact about everything. “Anyway, I’ve got to go but I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

“You always do.”

During Rachel’s intermission, Santana returns to Brittany’s table with a single plate in her hand and a dark cloche sitting atop it. She thought about sending it out with one of the food runners, but where’s the joy in that?

Several pairs of eyes gravitate to her as she cuts through the restaurant and heads straight for Brittany. Santana revels in the attention, it’ll make the reveal so worth it.

Brittany looks up, intrigued. “You’re doing table service now?”

Santana sets the dish down in front of her and lifts the cloche, awaiting Brittany’s reaction with this mischievous grin on her face.

“I – oh.” Brittany’s delight dims. “I don’t remember seeing waffles as one of the courses listed on the menu.”

“Oh no, I whipped this one up just for you. I know breakfast is your favorite,” Santana answers. “Here you have chai-spiced waffles, whipped ricotta sweetened with a little maple syrup and some lemon zest for balance, topped with a mixed berry compote and dusted with freeze-dried mandarin.”

Truth be told, Breakfast isn’t Brittany’s favorite. In fact, she hates anything remotely breakfast related. Pancakes, waffles, cereal, smashed avocado on toast – don’t even get her started on her disdain for eggs!

Santana thought it was a little odd when they first began dating, but she gave up on her dreams of being made breakfast in bed nonetheless because Brittany had her reasons. What they were, Santana never got a clear answer on.

“This is…way better than that galette I was so excited to try,” Brittany replies through obvious disappointment.

Santana intended to serve Brittany her galette, but then she remembered the number of breakfasts and brunches she missed out on because of Brittany’s vendetta against it. She remembers how she changed for her, how she adapted. Rather than serve Brittany the galette, Santana figured she would remind her that she can’t always get her way.

Not while Santana’s in the kitchen.

#blame it on the mistletoe #brittana #brittana fanfiction #santana lopez #brittany s pierce #chef brittana au

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rachelberryy · 1 year

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Bejewelled, Performativity, and Santana Lopez's closet

For @tuiyla

EDIT: Wow this got very long and in the weeds. I hope it ended up somewhat coherent.

Initially, I said that I saw this song as specifically regarding Santana's glass closet period (2.15-3.07), but with further reflection, I think it might actually work for all of her arc s1-s3.

The first verse isn't really relevant to my broader point here, but I could kind of see it as right after the Brittana argument at the end of Sexy, because that version of Santana would see one single moment of true vulnerability - one that ended up with her being spurned - as being 'too kind', and then we get 'And by the way, I'm going out tonight'. And she does. She starts 'dating' Dave, and runs for Prom Queen with him at her side, which, as Quinn tells us, is kind of the ultimate in high school prestige.

It's also, as both she and Quinn come to realise by the end of season 3, completely empty bullshit. Santana explicitly says that her main motivation for wanting the crown in season 2 is to get Brittany back (and, ironically, it kind of worked, even though she didn't win - it was their conversation after Santana lost that set them back onto the right track), but she does so by obnoxiously and very ostentatiously (and awfully unconvincingly) performing heterosexuality.

Which brings us back to Bejewelled. It's a fun little song, and the production and especially the music video are very over the top poppy. One of the centrepieces of the video is Taylor joining burlesque performer Dita Von Teese for a routine. That is a literal performance. They're both wearing glittery outfits, to fit in with the theme of the video and the song but also the traditions of burlesque - something that is also inherently transgressive. It's both contradictory and not, because the costumes and performance are so over the top theatre in a way that fits, but it's also transgressive in a way that a lot of mainstream American entertainment isn't allowed to be. (Burlesque, that is. I’m not out here living under the delusion that this music video is some big transgressive statement. It’s just a fun girlbossy pop music video, and that’s all it needs to be.)

(Kind of like Glee itself, actually - or at least what Glee wanted to be - but that's not really the point.)

A lot of Prom Queen (the episode, not the concept - well, the concept too, but that's not the point here) is about gender norms. Kurt wears clothes that some would code as feminine, but still wants to own his masculinity - and when he's voted prom queen, it's as a cruel joke. But then he owns it anyway, freaking Dave out and shattering the Santofsky illusion in the process. Dave is desperately (and obviously) insecure in his masculinity, and seeing Kurt transgress like that - showing up in the outfit he did, then embracing the title of Prom Queen after having it forced on him, and then dancing with his boyfriend in front of the whole school - freaked him the fuck out.

It's not nothing that Brittany said explicitly, more than once throughout the series, that seeing Kurt be open about himself - and then be openly with Blaine - helped her feel more accepted and safe about being openly with Santana. Because that's the thing with transgression: it breeds more transgression. It's why conservatives are so terrified of it; their entire world is a house of cards.

And, if we follow Judith Butler's argument that gender is, fundamentally, a performance, then the transgression is tied up with that. The performance - Santana's heterosexuality, in this case - is caused by her fear of her own transgression. (Santana's performance of femininity and the way it changes over the series is a different essay, I think.) She's faced with reflection, and making a decision: to embrace the transgression, or to double down.

So that takes us to the next lyrics.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled When I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer

There's that brash Lopez confidence we know and love, but, as with the song, she has to push through some deeply held - and expertly hidden - insecurities to get there. There's no question mark in the lyrics, but there might as well be, especially as far as Santana is concerned. Because when she loses Prom Queen, she's worried that her popularity (which, like Quinn, she craves because she needs to be loved) has been irreparably damaged. By the time we see her come out to the Cheerios in the very-deleted-but-definitely-still-canon scene in IKAG, though, she's reclaimed that confidence - more than that, because it's now about things much more tangible and important than high school popularity. She still wants to shimmer though - 'A star is a star; wherever in the sky it shines.'

The rest of the chorus is very glib and tongue-in-cheek, and very much screams season 1 Santana.

Indeed, the rest of the song follows a similar vibe. It's all very, I'm trying not to give a fuck but I really really do, but even if you decide to hate me, I can live with that, cause I'm still shining.

What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine.

It's over the top and campy and performative but with some real emotion underneath - like most of Taylor's best pure pop songs. And that's just Santana all over, isn't it? She's a larger than life figure, but underneath the walls and the performance, there's a (very squishy, very caring, very kind) diamond, and diamond's gotta shine.

#i hope this does my thoughts justice #i did not expect to be going into gender performativity theory today but glee takes you to strange places #glee #santana #taylor swift

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thecoziestbean · 1 year

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5 Songs

🎶✨When you get this, list 5 songs you actually listen to. Then, send this ask/tag to 10 of your favorite followers 🎶✨

I love talking music, so thanks for the tag @rebelrebelwrites !

I make playlists for EVERYTHING, so naturally I have one for every WIP and every potential WIP. Here are 5 songs that have been on heavy rotation lately that specifically relate to Haladriel/Saurondriel projects. This got really verbose... I just really love talking about music!

If you follow me on the bird app (if you don't you can @ cozy_ships) you might have seen me post some prompt fills related to a story I'm working on for Haladriel Week. It's a Prairie Gothic AU with a Tevildo as Black Phillip thing going on. Oh and there's a sexy farmhand Halbrand. The working title is Meet Me at the Edge, which is a lyric taken from "The Beast" by Delta Rae.

"Meet me at the edge, I ain't afraid, Lord I've already fallen, See the beast sitting on the ridge, No time to waste, Let him know that we're coming."

The Venus of Valinor is my main WIP right now. It's a multi-chap art heist AU with a lot of screwball comedy that was inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (1966) with Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole. It's hard to pick one song for it because there are so many that vibe with Hal and Gal's moods at various points in the story, but "Secret Heart" by Feist feels very on the nose overall. Both our leads have lots of secrets. And it's a song that I never tire of.

"This very secret, That you're trying to conceal, Is the very same one, That you're dying to reveal."

Mirah is one of my all-time favorite musicians, and "Gold Rush" is probably my favorite song by her (the name of my tumblr comes from this song). It also gives me major Haladriel vibes. It's on all my fic playlists.

"Oh love when I get lonesome, I'm gonna call you up into my world, When waters rise up I do my best, To keep my home floating upon your chest."

This is one of the most Haladriel coded songs in my rotation. Also one that's always been deeply personal to me, even pre-TROP. It figures prominently in the playlist for a Western AU I've been working on for a while (I've shared a few snippets of this one via prompt fills on the bird app as well). Not sure when this one will make an appearance, maybe Haladriel Week, but this one is a heavier lift for me, so no promises.

"I walk with others in me yearning to get out, Claw at my skin and gnash their teeth and shout, One of them wants only to be someone you'd admire, One would as soon just throw you on the fire."

The first thing I started writing was/is a Music AU. It’s heavily rooted in the late 1980s/early-mid-1990s punk & grunge scenes, as well as being loosely inspired by the film Whiplash (2014). The whole thing started from the idea of Finrod & Sauron’s epic song battle reframed as two kids from rival grunge bands, and Sauron somehow being responsible for Fin od’ing (think Finrod as Kurt Cobain). There’s also a whole thing with flashbacks where first Mairon, and then a young Galadriel were drumming students of the brilliant but unforgiving Aulë, and then in the future-present Sauron’s trying to live a quiet non-musical life but then music exec Galadriel “discovers” him and drags him kicking & screaming back into the life. I’ve got a little written, but have no idea if it’ll ever see the light of day, although I seem to have outlined it here so… 🤷🏻‍♀️

Siouxsie & the Banshees are a little earlier than the time period this fic is inspired by, but they’re influential to a lot of the other acts that are prominent in it, and I see them as being one of Galadriel’s faves in the story (also one of my faves). And the drumming on “Into the Light” is 🔥🔥🔥.

“Standing in the light, I never wanted to be right, Now I’m attracted by the light, And I’m blinded by the sight.”

Tagging (zero pressure, I'm sure many of you have already been tagged): @justatinycollector @ophidion @demonscantgothere @hazelmaines @jhalya

#Spotify #tag game #music recs #fanfic music inspo #look i can talk about music for literal days

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theghostofashton · 2 years

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What you said about Blaine and misogyny made me think - in later seasons he is not only more emotional etc, his body language changes too, he talks in a higher voice, often sits with his legs closed etc. I wonder how much of that was Darren and how much any specific idea of the directors/creators. Was it to flip the stereotype that Kurt was the "girly" one in the relationship? As Sue later says, that they're both "blouses" lol.

I've come across some old meta saying that Blaine was fem codes from the beginning with things like the fact that he asked his friend to the SH dance where girls are supposed to ask boys; the way people tried to change/criticize his appearance and clothes (like Brittany with her hair gel ban); the songs - Katy Perry, "I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend... ", "Big girls don't cry"; or the way that Sebastian pervs on him. I'm not sure how strong these arguments are and even less sure if the writers deserve the credit of doing it on purpose. Oh and there's the fact that Sue made Blaine the " bride" in her hurt locker which is interesting ;P

I'm very curious what you think, I haven't seen much discussion about it and I personally love Blaine's feminine side! (and please make it as long as you like, I really like reading your thoughts)

hi anon! thanks for the ask!

i think.... there's a lot at play here. i have my own interpretations based on the performance darren gave, and i have some suspicions based on the writers, bc like you pointed out, i don't know how much credit we can give the writers.

whether it was an issue of "flipping the stereotype" is.....possibly true? of course, this is all speculation, but there's definitely something to be said about how s5 blaine really leans into traditionally feminine behavior (s4 too, but i see it more plainly in s5), and how s5 kurt is leaning into more traditionally masculine behavior (combat class, him fighting back against the guys in 5x15 after being adamantly against violence in earlier seasons, and the overall way he carries himself).

this is a generalization i'm making (there's def more nuance to both of them in this season), but i would not put this kind of binary past the writers bc i feel like their engagement w stereotypes as a whole was very surface level. the nuance in all of these characters came from the acting rather than the writing, if you will. (also note - this is not me saying kurt and blaine fall into traditional heterosexual gender roles because that is objectively impossible for two gay men. this is just an observation of biases the writers may have had)

as for the idea that blaine could've been fem-coded.....i think that's interesting, especially with the examples you give. i feel like s2 blaine, ultimately, feels like more of a mask than an expression of his personality. the comment about how blaine likes football so he isn't a stereotype just feels like such a direct call out to distinguish him from the other gay character who has some more "stereotypical" interests (which, as an aside..... feels super heavy handed and entirely unnecessary? it was def possible to depict these two gay characters in distinctive ways without implying anything either way lmfao)

but anyway, i think it's important to note that when we meet blaine, he's carrying the baggage of being gaybashed right after coming out. we don't...... really know blaine before he was traumatized in that way? the narrative doesn't tell us exactly how long it's been since he was attacked and came to dalton (and then 6x12 comes in and messes with the timeline even more lol), but regardless, i think the argument that s2 was a mask he was intentionally putting on to blend in as much as he could and not draw unwanted attention by showing off his true personality can definitely be made. also worth noting that darren was working with what he was given in s2 (which wasn't a lot), and couldn't be sure of whether blaine would even remain on the show, let alone who he would become, and that definitely played a large role in his acting choices.

something i've believed strongly in is the fact that the reason blaine seems so devastated in 2x18, during somewhere only we know, is bc meeting kurt and getting close to him helped him to unlock the part of himself he was keeping underneath the dalton blazer; his real self, that he felt like he had to hide after the sadie hawkins incident. and now the thought of going back to who he used to be is just.... so sad because he's gotten a taste of what things could be like for him. kurt is so sure of himself and so confident in showing that to the world, and blaine wants to be that, too. (this also factors into why i think transferring to mckinley in 3x01, even if he's ostensibly doing it for kurt, was a great decision for his growth as well)

.....i feel like i just went on a huge tangent lol but my point with all of this was that i totally think blaine behaving more traditionally feminine could just be his personality and something he unfortunately felt like he had to hide based on sadie hawkins and other bullying he faced.

back to him being fem-coded tho, i definitely think it could've been possible? i wouldn't put it past the writers lol

i think a lot of it is darren, partly in his attempts to keep blaine and darren separate. but the point about people trying to criticize/change his appearance is very interesting, especially in contrast with kurt, whose appearance was also criticized but never pushed to change (aside from him trying himself in 1x18). the other things you mention (except the sebastian thing), i think do a good job of indicating that this may have just been blaine's personality pre-dalton, and s2 blaine functions as a response to the trauma of sadie hawkins. (i don't necessarily think it was written with that intention, but darren's performance and the subsequent seasons can make that reading plausible imo)

they may have tried to make him fem coded and kind of enforce a binary dynamic, but darren's performance to me reads like a nuanced gay man who is in touch with his emotions and unafraid to embrace his interests whether that be his music taste or his sense of style. things like asking another boy to the sadie hawkins dance feel like just.......him trying to exist as a gay man in a society set up for straight people. in a lot of ways, i feel like his character was ahead of his time in the nuance he has? a lot of criticisms revolve around him being too weak and overemotional which really does say a lot about a society that claims to want complex male characters but doesn't actually lmfao

#response to this character will forever baffle me lol #the fact that a lot of criticism is solely related to traditionally feminine behavior 'ruining' him is......telling #but unintentionally i think the writers gave us a pretty nuanced gay man in him and i attribute that to his development #in the later seasons #i hope this answered your question anon i feel like it was a lot of incoherent rambling lol #answered #anonymous #glee #long post

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antonia-gergely · 3 months

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Kristin Hayter

Literary Art truly is art.

although that's her real name, ironically Kristin Hayter was raised to be a devout catholic. she studied interdisciplinary creative arts at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, earning a Bachelor of Fine Arts. she earned an MFA in Literary Art from Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island in 2016. since then she created the persona Lingua Ignota between 2017 and 2021, releasing what she called 'survivor anthems', in an attempt to process abuse using religious imagery and music, often subverting the patriarchal messages embedded within.

t.w. if you do listen to her work as Lingua Ignota, there is mention of s/a, abuse, violence etc.

the below excerpts are from Vice

https://www.vice.com/en/article/kzqzwn/lingua-ignotas-liturgical-noise-is-a-celebration-of-obliteration?callback=in&code=MTNKYTIYMDETMJQ5ZC0ZZWYYLWI4OGITMGY0YJHKMJAXNMY4&state=bd7f92445dcd4b7485e2a217dea600a4

'Raised Catholic, Hayter's religion distinguished her from others and continues to inflect her musical practice. "I was in parochial school until sixth grade. My Catholic upbringing is huge in all the stuff I do, as far as the way liturgical music has influenced me, and the rituals of the church and even that homogeny and having to conform to a very specific mold of existing, of moral existence, of appearance."'

after finding a nevermind casette left behind by her cousin while in high school, hayter became enamoured with the vocal style of kurt cobain and enrolled for classical singing lessons.

'"When we sing classically, we try to create seamlessness between the registers—between the head and the chest voice. What I try to do is play with the spot between them where my voice breaks, and I write most of my songs to have my break be central, so that I move between the registers quickly and it creates this destabilizing sense ... that the voice is in this state of constant flux, dynamic and imperfect, alchemizing itself." In other words, although her music has beautiful passages, it also travels into abject spaces. "There will be half a phrase of straight classical singing and then it will drop down to a weird death growl or ... Bulgarian-like belting and then extended technique, a rush of air. I'm very intentionally manipulating my voice to make these kind of gross glides and transitions between these two registers."' the voice as a tool for art, music as a tool for art has been widely explored, although this strikes me as some uncharted realm of working.

'At Brown, she completed a thesis called Burn Everything Trust No One Kill Yourself, a 10,000-page manuscript composed of appropriated material—"lyrics, message board posts, and liner notes from subgenres of extreme music that mythologize misogyny, […] [and] court papers, audio recordings, and police filings from [her] own experiences of violence"—assembled using a Markov chain. Prior to this, she attended the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where she studied across disciplines. "I ended up in visual/critical studies and art history. I was really into research and having a research-based practice, and then I got into writing, and then I got into the sonification of the voices I had written."' I read that the thesis was made up of 10,000 pages as it approximated her weight at the time.

'"Not ascribing to traditional models of healing such as gentleness and self-love has allowed me to be very raw and aggressive in my recounting of abuse through art. I think that's the part of it that maybe touches other survivors: mine isn't the way we're accustomed to addressing such things. I was reading several books about surviving abuse and they're basically like, 'be nice and get a hobby.' I feel like this enforces patriarchal models of civilized femininity"'

Her persona Lingua Ignota proved unsustainable, as Hayter found it harmful to dwell and rehatch her past experiences. Now going by Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter, her newest release, Saved! is a fascinating blend between literary art, musical experimentation and the avant garde. She takes existing music, hymns, religious songs and motifs and reworks them, the songs have a disconcerting crunch and occasional disconnection and imitation of tape warps. Reminds me of art appropriation and the dada and detournement movements in their reworking and recontextualising of existing imagery and ideas (usually to subvert)

The glossolalia (speaking in tongues) within the album is derived from the practice of Pentecostal and charismatic Christians. i find her work a fascinating blur between performance art and a genuine search for some salvation, which hayter mentioned she felt. I'm not religious, I have nothing much to do with Hayter's music at all, but it resonates with me as a hybrid of performance, fantasy and a desperate desire for faith which I have never seen before.

even her poster contains a persona, her artwork is central to her music. it's all intertwined and lines between writing, performance and visual art are blurred.

the below excerpts are from Kerrang (a more recent interview)

https://www.kerrang.com/reverend-kristin-michael-hayter-kerrang-cover-story-interview-lingua-ignota-new-album-saved

'“I became really interested in the idea of religious transcendence and using that analogy for personal healing ... In Pentecostalism, for instance, you can speak in tongues, you can be healed, and you can utilise extreme, unorthodox methods to develop a relationship between yourself and God. So, I wanted to see if I could develop a direct line between myself and God. I was earnestly attempting to be saved. And to get saved ... I don’t know if it worked or not. I’m not sure." In researching the project, she’d attend a lot of worship services, witnessing people experience “true joy” in tandem with the uglier side of “something really hateful and othering”.'

To prepare her mind and body for the performances, she carefully fasted and engaged in sleep deprivation techniques.

“I wanted to create as raw an emotional state as I could,” she explains of the process. “What you hear on the record is from a 30-minute session when I had not really eaten or slept"'

SIDE NOTE, in her work as Lingua Ignota, Hayter's song 'Do You Doubt Me Traitor?' repeats the phrase 'I don't eat, I don't sleep' harking back to her struggles with anorexia and insomnia in the wake of her abuse. The line reminded me of Marina Abramovic's performance The House with the Ocean View. That calls to mind a thesis I read, available in the college library, about starvation and the ethics implied between using potential disordered eating as a means of spiritual healing, performance art or political activism. Fascinating read, I do recommend. Bit of a pointless tangent but a link nonetheless.

'“I honestly don’t know what I believe. I think my work is trying very hard to engage with that question in a sort of desperate and insane way.” SAVED! may not be literal. But its purpose absolutely is. “In a lot of ways, I wanted to show healing,” Kristin explains of her intentions. “I don’t even like the word ‘healing’ because it’s so pop-psychology ... But I wanted to show the kind of ugly, complicated process that it can be. So, I think that finding this analogy of getting saved and using that to talk about my own experiences is kind of the intellectual fortress that I’ve built to protect myself through that. The attempts to find God have been in absolute earnest. I really was trying. I think out of desperation, to find something to believe in.”

Hayter's work is a testament to the wide ranging and indefinable nature of art, and how it can take many forms. i might do a masters in literary art /hj

Her music is an escape from grounded, faithless reality - someone described it as the sound of praying in a burning church - but it doesn't push faith or religion on anyone. As Hayter said, she herself doesn't know what she believes. It's definitely evocative, sometimes disquieting, and it's been a long time since a musical project has enticed me this much.

#art research #avant garde #experimental music #art theory #religion #faith

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bowtiesnmusicals · 1 year

Text

Here is my recap of the A Guest Star is Born (The Rhodes Not taken) episode of the podcast.

This was a really monumental episode for the cast. This was their first real big guest star.

Yes Victor Garber and Josh Groban were on but Kristin (April) was the center of the episode. Most of the cast didn't get to work with them.

This was the first time all 12 glee members perform together.

The stage was really slick when they rehearsed the dance in the cowboy boots. Everyone was sliding everywhere.

The cast spent like two weeks learning Last Name. Kristin came in and learned the dance in like 45 minutes.

Chris and Jenna were very excited about working with Kristin.

Jenna and Chris used cupcake as a code word for Kristin coming on set.

Kristin was so warm and welcoming.

Rehearsal for Last Name was a mess. They couldn't keep their lines and it looked amok.

The crew was sent out of the room and the cast rehearsed the number again which never happened because time is money.

A dancers trick to make a shoes less slippery is to use hairspray or soda to make them a bit sticky.

This is the first time the show begins with ...and that's what you missed on glee.

The episode title is a play on the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken.

They started to recap the episode.

Kevin is the one that can't read.

Jayma and Kevin once had a battle to figure out who was the most expensive extra out of the two of them.

Maybe This Time is the song from Glee that Kevin listens to more then any other.

It was special to watch someone do what they are good at and it's so much fun. It felt so good to watch it as an audience member.

It was the first time they used the spotlight in the choir room.

Kristin was actually singing with the recording. She wanted her lip-sync to be perfect.

Tim Davis, one of the casts vocal coaches, told them that the more you sing the more real its going to look.

The snippet of Kurt crying was Chris really crying. He wasn't acting.

They didn't see Lea's version of the song until the episode was screened for the cast.

Kevin saw Cabaret for the first time last month. The glee version of Maybe This Time is Kevin's version of the song.

Jenna and Amber had a great time filming the scene of April teaching them how to steal stuff.

More recap of the episode.

Naya has great reactions in this episode. You can tell from only a look that Santana hates Rachel.

Alone is so bad but also so good. It's Jenna's favorite song.

Everyone was losing it behind the monitors when Chris did the drunk Bambi scene with Jayma.

Kevin lost it just talking about the scene.

Every time the did a scene in the choir room they would have to do coverage for everyone and it took forever. They basically lived in the choir room.

The face Naya makes when Rachel says she will be the understudy is priceless.

Somebody to Love is special to the cast.

They would mimic Cory's opening can.

Everything Amber tried while recording this song was unreal. This was the first time Kevin got to push himself vocally.

This was a song they did a lot for live performances.

Kevin never really learned the choreography because he played guitar in the show version.

The song felt like a community experience.

Its one of Jenna's favorites.

It's a pretty solid episode. Lots of core memories for Jenna and Kevin.

Lots of firsts and figuring how they were doing it.

There is nothing better then Kristin Chenoweth.

Tartie Takes:

Cringe Moment: teaching the girls to steal meat, April being drunk

Worst Dance Move: Not everyone was good at Last Name. Kevin likes picking someone and just following them through the entire performance. Some of those things are not like the others.

Best Song: Somebody to Love

Best Line: Oh Bambi I cried so hard when those hunters shot your mommy.

Honorable mentions: Puck: I bet you thought Burt and Ernie were just roommates. Will saying we'll get you sobered up...find you some underwear. Sandy: let me tell you about my planned production of Equus.

Best Prop: April's pink wine glass

Didn't Age Well: Nothing

Did Age Well: everything holds up

Shit we found on Tiktok: There is a scene in Pitch Perfect with a wheel and one of the things on the wheel is songs that Glee ruined. There is a trend of songs that Glee did better or Pitch Perfect did better.

#and that's what you really missed #atwyrm #jenna ushkowitz #kevin mchale #glee #podcast

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d-criss-news · 3 years

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A Holiday Album That Avoids All the Cliches? "Bah Humbug," Says Darren Criss

The stage and screen star, of Glee and Hedwig fame, just released a collection of songs that goes extra hard on holiday spirit.

Darren Criss, the actor and singer who co-starred in Glee for six seasons (Kurt’s dreamboat boyfriend!) and more recently won an Emmy and several other awards for his portrayal of Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, spent the better part of last year in a studio recording holiday songs for a new album. The experience left him in an unusual frame of mind. “You know that feeling during the holidays when everything finally slows down and you really have time to think?” he said in a chat with T&C. “It’s calm but it’s also a little wistful? Well that’s how I felt for almost 12 months and it was really great.”

A Very Darren Crissmas, which debuted last week, includes a mix of familiar songs, lesser-known B-sides by his favorite artists, and one composed by him. He is accompanied in a few by Adam Lambert, Rachel Evan Wood, and Lainey Wilson. Later this year, he will embark on a multi-city tour, including dates in New York, Chicago, Boston, and others, starting on December 3.

To an outsider, making a holiday album might seem simultaneously intimidating (benchmarks already set by Bing, Dolly, Ella, Frank, Johnny, etc.) and perilous (do the job too well and you end up being played in elevators), but Criss was happy to correct musical misconceptions.

Is it hard to avoid cliches while working in this particular genre?

I’d like to offer a counterpoint to that idea. I believe Christmas albums are a wonderful excuse to embrace cliches in a way that you're not allowed to throughout the year. My general MO in life is to try to challenge people's ideas and have them reevaluate their relationship to something. You know, what can make this interesting to me in a way that also may reintroduce it to people who think they know it?

Did this require a special strategy?

I've written for a lot of different kinds of things—musicals, pop—and I'm a big believer in dressing for the party—in other words knowing what the dress code is and honoring the thing that makes it work. If you're going to a summer wedding, you wear lighter colors. There is a kind of loose dress code for Christmas albums that you don't have the rest of the year. Chords, harmonic devices, and jazz arrangements that are just a little too, I don't know, Christmas-y, but that for a handful of weeks, the rules completely change and you can run with it. Think about it, nobody rolls their eyes around Christmas and says, “Oh, you wrapped my present again.” Or, “You got a Christmas tree again.”

In what ways did you dress for this party but also make it personal?

Aside from the painfully convenient pun of my last name in the album title? No, it was the song selection. The hardest part for me was curating what songs we included. If I had my way, I would have made a whole album full of songs no one has ever heard before. But I knew I had to have pieces that people are familiar with enough to use as a gateway drug, to the other songs that I'm almost certain people have no familiarity with. So I made sure to arrange them in a way where they felt familiar when you heard them. Like, “Oh wait, is this a Frank song?”

One example is, “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.” This song was a novelty hit in the 1950s. It's not covered a whole lot, but when it is, it's usually by a female artist and it's done more or less exactly the same as the original record. I tried to approach it irreverently but also with a great deal of affection. You know, doing it in halftime, breaking it up with 808 beats and contemporary drum loops.

Which lesser-known song were you most delighted to reintroduce your listeners to?

I think the crown jewel of the album—and I'm very proud of all of my babies—is “New Year.” It is a Regina Spektor song from one of her seminal albums, and my longtime friend and producer Ron Fair and I were continually surprised by how much this song kind of took on a life of its own. Typically, musicians close holiday albums with a song about the New Year and usually it’s with either “Auld Lang Syne” or “What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?”

I really wanted to find a new song that could kind of maybe join that list and this one is almost bittersweet but it has this message about being extremely grateful for where we are, what we’ve been given, and being excited to get to do it again. Sonically, we kind of turned it into a '70s arena rock kind of tune. I hope people can really dial into that song because it's one of our proudest moments.

#darren criss #town and country magazine #a very darren crissmas #press #oct 2021

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incurablyromanticsblog · 2 years

Text

Ok I'll liveblog

EPISODE 9: THE FAMILY BUSINESS

SPOILERS BELOW!!

The yellow color filter, very nostalgic and hitting me like a goddamn brick after the blue one

Aw fuck not clowns

They really just gave michael a pastel shirt and said do your thing and nothing else

He looks his age not 10-20 years before

But then again there was the wig in the og series

DANIEL LICHT'S THEMESSS

He's wearing the henley my dudes

HES TELLING IT TO HARRISON???

The Aspect Ratio Change!!!

Harrison finished dexters sentences!!

"why are we like this" brb crying

"you too?"

Aw fuck man this is emotional

"Instead he gave me the code" jury's still out on harry won't lie

Look into the cameraaaaa

Debs reaction to 'i would never hurt family'

Why the clown look like joaquin one phoenix he a good dude

The clown saying what the fuck is funny

RED NOSED DEXTER

THE BLOOD THEME

He's gonna say kill He's gonna say kill He's gonna say kill

'I confront them' oh god oh god

I love the taking to the camera thing

'You tell harrison you kill people there's no going back' NO THERES NOT

He didn't tell?, HE DIDNT TELL????

'you're like batman' 'i prefer the dark defender'

The love in dexter's eyes I'm gonna die

HES GETTING ELRICS BODY THANK GOD IVE BEEN SO WORRIEd

Dexter's so happy I'm laughing

He's scared to kill say trinity or arthur

'at least elric's frozen, no bloody mess' BRIAN CALLBACK BUT I STILL WANT MY NAME DROP OR HALLUCINATION

Oh COME ON not angela comparing the needle marks. Look I get the suspicion I do, but like whats with the supercop stuff. She's comparing the two needle punctures, like for us it's obviously- you know what I'm not talking about this

Dexter what did you get him

Please don't be a gun

Scarf and A HENLEY????

That looks like a rifle

It's a rifle, the one he has while he ran with the deer

Redneck energy won't lie

'guns are loud messy'

'all the guys at school have guns' oh my god what is wrong america

Aww son and father bonding over guns (👀👀👀👀)

Please no

This is alternative to the kurt scene no?

Yea just drop the kurt being a killer bomb

Vigilante shit

"ask me what the plan is" dammit dexter get your head in the game

HARRISON GAVE HIM A DRAWING OF DEBRA

Oh my god

Michael c hall is so good please

Tradition I've been doing???

Why did harrison make that face

ITS AN UGLY SWEATERRRR

Aww both angela and dex lying to each other a dexter tradition for sure

In front of your parents?????

Dex gave her a POLICE HANDBOOK THAT'S INSULTING

KURT????

Oh fuck

Oh my god, the implications

SERIAL KILLER OFF

Not the GUN SIGN

IN FRONT OF HER MOM??

The example being wiggles is so funny cause they keep saying wiggles in a serious tone

She went to the vet didn't she

Oh fuck not the ketamine

The drone???

Harrison looks sad

He's confessing about ethan

Dexter is smiling???about ethan??

Fantasies about Hunting down the trinity killer

Oh fuck, dexter don't-

Dexter doing the right thing is so weird

How is the drone working so well in snowfall

First rule don't get caught

Ok angela is listening to the BHB podcast

She didn't say love ya back that's so funny

Ok kurt cleaning his guns with the song

The song is a banger won't lie

"I wanna help him"

"There were alternatives" get his ass

I WANNA HELP HIM?!?

Whose side are you on??

Dexter sounds like he's convincing himself

'And you fucking love it' GET HIS ASSS

Audrey scaring angela please

Oh fuck molly's on voicemail

She dead

Kurts gasing dexter's cabin???

Merry Christmas jimbo this is so funny

Oh shit

HES LIGHTING IT

Kurt is going to die this episode I know it

What's is up with the gun? They'll find the gunshot wound and they'll know it was murder

Buggy in the snow leaves tracks you idiots

Both killers trying to kill each other irony at it's peak

Father teaches son to break locks bonding moments!!!

Dex triggered the alarm

God when Kurt breathes heavily I think of mr krabs

Ohh the container is underground

Embalming items ok

Oh fuck

Dollboxes DOLLBOXES

Trophies are the bodies obviously

This shit terrifying

He's out make up on all of them and dressed them in virginal white dresses

MOLLY DEAD

You killed wiggles didn't you

Please dont

I did

I took care of arthur mitchell too+_+

Catch me crying and angry

FOREHEAD KISS

Ok so angela is onto molly disappearing

Kurts back

He's running

Ok I think kurt is gonna kill angela tbh

Oh god

THEY GOT KURT

Angela is gonna catch them in the act??

Harrison is taking too well to this tbh

Dexter had the code developed through years

'How many times have you done this' 'in the 100s'

'youve saved 1000s of people?' oh god

It's as if they're euthanizing an animal

'Hey you got me'

'no, I saved them!'

'i told you no dad shit!' I'm laughing so much

Ok dexter and harrison pale in comparison to kurt

Dexter's smile he's so happy

'This wasn't about saving them this was about power'

'you deserve to die'

He's making dex jealous of the time I spent with harrison

Oh shit

'Some kinda bullshit justice code?'

'Like father like son' and focus shifting to harrison

Crying and throwing up

'you don't have to watch' gotta love a consensual king

He's cutting up kurt in front of harrison

And harrison is into it???

Is he???

They're not making it clear???

Harrison is going to have a panic attack

He's having a flasback

Oh god

Harrison isn't as fucked up oh my god

OR IS HE??

blood moon

Dexter pulled out the heftys ok

Dexter's goin too fast for harrison

Burning the bodies

Too soon dex

'thats how it works' but It doesn't have to

Ok so but it doesn't seem like dexter and harrison will get caught

Poor angela, hope she lives

The 'yep' in unison

Poor angela

Breakfast wizard

'Jim lindsay killed matt cladwell'

And the screws

Ok so...

Angela girl what you gon do?

End credits

Gonna wait for the preview for the finale too

DEXTER IS ARRESTED

VOICEOVER OF HIM SAYING YOU'LL SEE WHAT EVIL LOOKS LIKE

Ok so theory for ep 9:

Harrison will feel the dark urge but he'll understand that it's not right

Dexter will get caught (not killed)

The cycle will end it cannot continue the writers cannot do that they really cannot.

Clyde Philips has always been against it

either Harrison will turn dexter in and dexter will betrayed and fully lose it

Or harrison will die and dexter will fully lose it

Dexter dying and harrison either losing it or going on with the code is too much a 'plot decision'

Or a classic murder-suicide but most likely from harrison

#dexter #dexter new blood #episode 9 #the family business

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tthankstoyou · 3 years

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hi ana!!! i also appreciate the quinncedes content a LOT! been thinking about them lately.... do u have any quinncedes thoughts you'd like to share

Hi hello yes I sure do have some thoughts I’d like to share... and you will get those thoughts in the form of a one-shot 👀

Either read it under the cut or here on ao3

--------------------

“Hey Mercedes, it’s Quinn. I know that we haven’t talked in a while, but I just took a listen to your new album and wanted to congratulate you. You never fail to amaze me. Call me back when you get the chance, my number’s the same from high school.”

Quinn ended the voicemail and put her phone down. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she just took a listen; the album ended just a few minutes before she picked up the phone. Looking back, Quinn should have waited a little longer. She should have put her thoughts together better. She had so much more to say about Mercedes’s music.

You never fail to amaze me.

She doesn’t know why she said just that, it was like nothing else could come out of her mouth. But it is true, Mercedes always took her breath away. Quinn should’ve said something more. She had so many thoughts about her friend's music. This is what happens when she doesn’t think.

Quinn spent the next hour running over possible conversations in her head. This, now this was something that Quinn was good at. She was good at planning and making sure that everything was perfect. Sure, things may not always work out how she wants them to, but she's good at planning nonetheless. It was something that Mercedes once said she liked about Quinn; how she always prepared little speeches in her mind. Mercedes said that she should work in politics because of that, Quinn wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Of course there were times where things went to shit and she had no idea what to do. That’s when Quinn was at her worst. Like when she slapped Rachel after she lost prom queen. None of that was planned. I mean, who would plan to slap someone in the bathroom during prom. The worst part of that night, was that when she was running from the stage out of humiliation, she thought Mercedes would follow her.

She didn’t.

That’s when Quinn knew that things were over between them. Mercedes was doing whatever with Sam, and Quinn was alone. Technically she had Finn, but she didn’t care about him. It sounds heartless, but it’s true. Quinn wanted to be prom queen, and she needed Finn to help obtain that title. Finn was just in her life to win a crown.

When she was with Finn all that she could think about was Mercedes. She couldn’t help it. The other girl was always running through Quinn’s mind. It’s silly to think about, considering how they were never really an item.

They never kissed. They never confessed their feelings to each other. They were never anything more than friends.

The unsaid hung over them like a cloud. You don’t have to tell the other person you love them for them to know how they feel.

Neither of them could deny how their heart raced when they held hands. It was something special between them. They understood each other. To this day, Quinn has never met anyone that could read her mind like how Mercedes has. And the same goes for her, Quinn had Mercedes memorized. After living with Mercedes, she learned her little quirks. Like how she’d hold her hands in front of herself when she was nervous, or her little eyebrow raise when someone was annoying her. To Quinn, Mercedes was like a poem waiting to be dissected. She wanted to study the girl and learn everything about her.

That’s why when Quinn first heard about Mercedes’s new album, she rushed to pre order it. If she asked Mercedes would probably give her a copy for free, but they haven’t talked in five years. Plus Quinn would rather help her sales.

Quinn wasn’t expecting to get a sudden urge to call Mercedes, it just kind of happened. The last track on her album ended, and the next thing she knew, she was dialing Mercedes’s number.

She was hoping that listening to this album would give her some sort of closure. Quinn would listen to it and feel at ease knowing that Mercedes is on her way to becoming a star she was born to be. That was her plan. Everything changed once the song closing song came on.

The song might have been about anyone, but it reminded Quinn of what they had. Mercedes was a permanent part of Quinn, something that she couldn’t just forget about, like a tattoo. Quinn had been convinced that Mercedes hadn’t felt the same about her anymore. She thought that Mercedes must have moved on. She had so many men and women that would do anything to date her. Quinn thought that there was no way that Mercedes was stuck thinking about her like how Quinn was stuck thinking about Mercedes, but these lyrics showed that she was very wrong.

Thinking about you as I lay my head on my pillow Transported back in time To when you put your head on my chest And mumbled in your sleep, “I wish you were mine”

Quinn was pretty sure this was about her. It reminded her of the times that she would go to Mercedes’s house after school. They would lay on her bed together, with Quinn often ending up resting her head on Mercedes’s chest as they cuddled. Of course the cuddling became even more of a regular occurrence when Quinn moved into her house. She had trouble sleeping at night, it was hard finding a comfortable position to sleep while pregnant. Mercedes would always let her lay with her. She sang Quinn to sleep while running a finger up and down her arm. Mercedes did tell her that she talked in her sleep, she said that she found it adorable.

All is well as long as you’re here Given me something to hold onto when all else failed And all I can think about is how I wish you were mine

It could easily be just a coincidence or Quinn relating her life to things that have nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t help but think about freshman year. When Quinn saw Mercedes struggling in the Cheerios. She wanted Mercedes to be stronger than she was and not give into Sue’s disgusting weight loss tactics. If she had it her way, she would have gotten Mercedes to quit the Cheerios right then and there. She knew that Mercedes was too good for them. When Quinn first joined Glee Club, she just had a hunch that Mercedes would go onto great things. To be honest, Quinn thought Sue’s torment was holding Mercedes back. She may or may not have celebrated when Mercedes told her that she quit the Cheerios. And look at her now, showing the world the star that she is. Just what Quinn knew she was capable of.

Despite everything We were strong together I wish you could’ve been mine I wish you were mine

Everything that Mercedes was singing about was just too familiar. Quinn couldn’t help but relate it to their… thing. But she didn’t want to have her thoughts consumed by that.

She shouldn’t be so fixated on a silly little crush she had in highschool. That was years ago, Quinn was a different person now. Quinn didn’t even know if Mercedes would like the woman she’s become. She was so different from the person she was back in Lima, Ohio. Quinn could barely recognize that girl.

All of those thoughts flew out of the window when she heard her phone ring. The number flashing on her screen had a Los Angeles area code… which could only mean one thing, Mercedes was calling her back. Quinn quickly answered the phone and melted into the voice on the other end of the call.

“Hey Quinn, sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m glad you like the album.”

“I’d say ‘like’ is an understatement”

“I’m in New York right now visiting Kurt and your call got me thinking. How would you feel if I met you for dinner? I can take the train down to New Haven this weekend. That way we can get a chance to catch up… I miss you,” Mercedes said.

“I miss you, too. So much.”

“I’m in a rush and I have to get going, but I can’t wait to see you. I’ll text you later tonight. Bye Quinn.”

“Bye ‘Cedes,” Quinn said before Mercedes ended the call.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered into the phone after Mercedes hung up.

#quinn fabray #mercedes jones #quinncedes #my fics #fanfic #mine #asks #rae #glee

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therenlover · 3 years

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It’s Always Been You (Part Three of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Tags: Angst, Secrets, Exposition, Pre-Relationship, Predestination/Soulmates, Post-Wandavision

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, Brief Mentions of Torture/Past Trauma, Minor Character Death

Word Count: 8600~

This has been crossposted as a two-chapter fic on my AO3 under the same name

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A/N: For this fic series, the events of Endgame take place in Late September/Early October, so Wandavision takes place in late October. Also, Thor is about 3500 and Loki is about 3000. This has no bearing on their appearance or stories, it’s just older than they are in MCU cannon.

Peter couldn’t tell when exactly the mirage started falling apart.

It hadn’t come down all at once but instead dissolved in slow waves that culminated into a disastrous reveal when the pieces stopped fitting together. Part of him wished he could go back to living the lie when every day was filled with the sweet rose-tint of ignorance. Unfortunately, there was no way back to the way things were before, only a long road forward.

Not everything had been bad. In fact, most of the first month was quite the contrary.

After his disastrous run-in with the Sorcerer Supreme, a man he now knew as Stephen Strange, Y/N had taken him on a tour of the city, pointing out all of the places he should avoid at all costs. The list wasn’t particularly long, but once he knew where to stay away from he felt fully comfortable to roam the city at his own leisure. That opened up a whole new window of opportunities for Peter to have fun.

The city itself wasn’t as scummy as it had been when Peter was living there at X-Mansion. He still vividly remembered the last time he and Jubilee had taken a trip into the city, watching the prostitutes roaming around Times Square as they passed through on the way to some deli Kurt had recommended to her. Now, everything felt slightly safer and much more staged for tourists. Besides that, though, much to Peter’s surprise, there were very few changes. Of course, there were the massive new skyscrapers run by what he had gathered to be either the rich good guys or the rich bad guys (he hadn’t quite been able to figure out which when Y/N had explained it to him) but if he just pretended they weren’t there, this new New York could pass for his old New York pretty easily.

Strangely, Peter found he enjoyed living in this universe’s New York more than he’d enjoyed living back at the X-Mansion. He had freedom now. Freedom to roam the city with no curfew, freedom to get food from the kitchen at all hours of the day, freedom to spend as much time as he wanted lazing around the house playing Space Invaders in his room… life in the brownstone was paradise. Every moment was crafted to meet his exact needs. Flawless. Picture perfect in every way... Too perfect.

If Peter was forced to pinpoint where things started to go wrong, it would be the first time he noticed how Y/N’s whole universe seemed to bend at his whims.

He hated to say that Y/N was the epicenter of the problem. In fact, she was what, in all honesty, gave Peter the most happiness in his day-to-day life. Sure it was nice to spend time alone in his room binging twinkies to keep his blood sugar up, but that seemed pathetic when he compared it to Y/N knocking softly on his door and offering a plate of whatever delicious meal she had come up with at the time. Some days she would lure him out of whatever project he had taken on to show him new movies he had missed in the time jump between universes. On other days, when Peter was feeling cooped up in the house, she would take him to Central Park for cheap hotdogs so they could spend the afternoon watching the seals (which had been Peter’s guilty pleasure as a local ever since he moved into X-Mansion). No matter what, Y/N offered Peter exactly what he didn’t know he needed at every turn looking damn good as she did it.

Now that was a whole different bag of worms that Peter didn’t like to look into too deeply. Y/N was just… stunning. Everything about her seemed to call to him, a perfect siren’s song luring him closer every time he saw her. She never failed to make Peter laugh. She also took time out of her day to help him learn new things, like how DVDs worked, with all the empathy in the world. Even though she was beautiful to look at and wonderful in every way, Peter found himself attracted to the smallest things about her more than anything else. Her smile, her cooking, the way she danced to her record player when she thought he wasn’t around.

Peter had trouble putting the feeling into words. He could only imagine it was the first stages of love.

The real kicker was that she liked him! Liked him in a way he had never been liked before. It was as if, in her eyes, he could do no wrong. She laughed at his jokes and pulled him closer when he gravitated to her side and came home with little gifts she found during the day that he always found he loved. Peter’s flaws weren’t chided but instead embraced. He always felt cared for at her side.

There were some imperfect things about Y/N, though.

They weren’t large, not at first, but as time passed the small fissures in her facade grew into gaping cracks. They served as the stems from which all of his current problems grew. The biggest original fissure was just how jumpy she was.

99% of the time Y/N was cool and confident. Peter thought she wouldn’t be out of place working as a lawyer or politician. That should have been the first flag in and of itself, but that didn’t matter. What did matter is that the other 1% of the time, which seemed to be triggered randomly by things Peter said or did, she was like a deer in headlights. She would freeze, panic, and only return to normalcy several minutes after Peter either dropped the subject or clarified whatever he said. Once Peter caught on to how strange that was, other odd things about Y/N began to show through in day-to-day life.

Things like knowing facts about Peter that she shouldn’t know.

The first time she brought him home his favorite candy he assumed she had just guessed correctly, but then she brought him a VHS of his favorite movie. And bought his favorite foods when she went out shopping that Peter was sure she hadn’t bought before. And took him to a fancy Manhattan leather store to buy a very obviously custom-made silver leather jacket that she just so happened to see in the window.

He would always thank her profusely, just glad to get things he enjoyed, and remark on how odd it was for her to know him so well after such a small about of time. Y/N would just smile and chalk it up to intuition. Intuition could only count for so much.

Y/N did other, smaller strange things as well, but Peter couldn’t say he noticed them much until after he confronted her. He simply assumed she only ate at certain restaurants because she was a picky eater, and avoided cars because she wanted to save the environment. She could have just been an average person who just so happened to use gilded silverware and have a spectacular, museum-quality collection of odd, assorted antiques sitting around her perfectly-furnished, historical brownstone that she was able to comfortably live in while working a relatively low paying job…

Peter had never been known for his smarts, but looking back, even he was disappointed that he hadn’t seen the signs sooner. Love is blind and it also blinds. His eyes only opened when he found the journal.

The illusion fell apart on a Wednesday afternoon.

It was cool, with the crisp late-autumn breeze leaving a slight chill present throughout the day. The sky had turned grey, not from rain yet, just from the general gloom of the season. Peter didn’t mind. He was looking forward to the first big thunderstorm in his new home.

Y/N had left for work in the morning with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips. On her way out the door, they had flirted a little more than usual, and as a result, Peter had been thinking about her for the rest of the day. He was too busy thinking about the way she had ruffled his hair while she passed him on the couch to do anything of value with his time but much too bored to stand still. His compromise? Snooping.

There was a little study on the first floor that served as a workspace and library for the household. It wasn’t off limit’s by any means, but it was the last place left that Peter hadn’t explored since moving in (besides Y/N’s room, of course). Something, whether it was boredom or suspicion pushed Peter to go inside and explore. He promised himself it would only be for a minute.

Once he stepped inside, his plans changed.

The moment he walked past the door’s threshold it was like a wave of warmth had washed over him. Every bit of the autumn chill that had made its way into the old bones of the rest of the house was seemingly absent from the library. Peter quirked up an eyebrow. Slowly, he stepped back out of the room.

Instantly the chill was present again.

He stepped forward. Warm.

Backward. Cold.

Warm.

Cold.

Warm.

Cold.

To an onlooker he would have seemed crazed, speeding in and out of the doorway with his powers trying to find a logical explanation for the phenomenon. To Peter, though, it was like he had finally cracked the code. This was proof… okay, so a room being warm didn’t prove anything, Peter didn’t even know what it would be proof of, but something about it satisfied the constant anxiety that had been pooling in his stomach in the weeks since he had moved in. From that moment on he was fixated on finding out what was so special about the library and what it had to do with him.

Once he had steeled his emotions, he finally re-entered the room for the final time, letting himself acclimate to the comforting heat that seemed to radiate from everywhere inside while taking a look around.

At first glance, it was just a nicely decorated office. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined 3 of the 4 walls, with the remaining wall opposite the door left free to make room for a small, mahogany roll top desk that sat proudly in the center of the room on the matching wood flooring. There was some decoration on the far wall, though. Above the desk, spanning the entire length of the wall were 5 large portraits of men. They seemed to loom over the room, their eyes boring holes into whoever entered, but something about them seemed more melancholy than threatening.

“Creepy,” Peter whispered to himself as he took another step into the room, gazing up at the paintings, "really fucking creepy,"

The first portrait seemed to be the oldest of the group by far, with the paint piled on thick as if the artist had to correct themselves multiple times over while they worked. It featured a Greek or Roman soldier, dressed in shining gold armor while they bared a wolflike girn and held up a jug of wine towards the painter. It wasn’t period accurate- Peter was pretty sure a typical canvas wouldn't have held up since the greek days, and that realism didn’t really exist in paintings back then -but there was a life in the soldier’s eye that made him wonder what circumstances had inspired the subject to pose as he did.

The next three portraits, in comparison, were a bit bland. They were all pretty formal and seemed to have been done around the same time. All three frames held their own well-dressed dandy with small differences separating them. The first man had a little Gomez Addams pencil mustache, the next wore a military uniform and a sly smile, and the last was dressed in an ill-fitting suit while looking about 5 minutes from death. There could have been more differences, but Peter brushed over them quickly in favor of the final painting.

Portrait number five was, very obviously, the newest of the collection, featuring a modern man, probably 18 or 19, posing goofily on a chair Peter recognized as Y/N’s preferred sitting chair in the living room. Surprisingly, that wasn’t what caught his eye. Peter found himself gaping at the man’s face.

It was almost like looking through a funhouse mirror. Peter saw echoes of himself in the subject; the silver-blonde hair, the cheeky smirk on his face, the skid marks on the bottom of his worn sneakers. Hell, if it weren’t for the light five o’clock shadow dusting the man’s jaw Peter probably would have mistaken it for himself.

Something about the painting was both hypnotizing and sickening. Its pull was so strong that Peter only noticed he was getting closer when he knocked into the desk, sending a pile of papers falling to his feet. As he gathered them he could feel the eyes of the men above him on his back, urging him to look closer, dragging him into their strange gravitational field. Peter probably would have been more worried about the paintings before he saw the papers, though.

There, written in Y/N’s handwriting with brilliant red ink on the first page of a small, leather-bound journal, was one word: Magneto.

Peter’s heart stopped.

Nobody, especially in a whole other universe, should know about his father except him. It was a secret he was sure he hadn’t mentioned even when the FBI had interrogated him. Hell, Raven had taken the secret to her grave even despite her complicated relationship with Erik.

A deep pit of rage began to burn in Peter’s stomach. Who was Y/N? How the hell did she find out who Magneto even was? Worst of all, why didn’t she mention it to him?

Without even thinking about what he was doing Peter opened the journal to the next page and began reading. He was going to find out what Y/N was hiding if it was the last thing he ever did.

October 4th, 2023,

I returned from purgatory today. “The Snap” has been reversed and Thanos has been defeated, thankfully with little cost. If that was death, I hope I never have to face it again. Tony is still weak, as am I, but both of us will live to see another day thanks to my gifts. I hope Howard knows I fulfilled my promise and protected his son.

While I was in the in-between, the grey place between worlds, I saw Magneto again. He seemed strangely at peace with himself. Hopefully, this means there will be no trouble with him in the future.

Once we hold a proper funeral for the lost the real work begins. Tonight, though, I am glad to be alive.

His father’s name appeared, but the rest of the entry was confusing. Peter kept reading.

October 7th, 2023,

We held the funeral today. I still despise Thor with everything within myself, but he and I held a small memorial for his brother once Clint had been properly buried and eulogized. He offered a poor apology for the hostile takeover of my home, but I accepted nonetheless. It’s what Loki would have wanted. Besides, his bastard father is already dead and his home has been destroyed, so Asgard’s power over Alfheim is nonexistent. Perhaps now that things here have calmed down I’ll visit my mother and father again...

I tried talking to Wanda but she refuses to speak to me. She doesn’t understand that even though I foresaw Vision’s passing, I couldn’t stop it. The same goes for her brother. If I were her, I would hate me too. I’ll try calling her again later this week once she can properly mourn. Until then, all I can do is wait.

Peter’s stomach dropped.

He had to reach out and steady himself on the desk to keep from wobbling when he was reminded of his time in the Hex. His memories of the time were misty, clouded around the edges as he was puppeteered through a charade, but the pain, both mental and physical, was still sharp even a month later. If he pretended it had never happened life was easy but when he accepted the week or so he spent in Westview it took his mind to a dark place. Unfortunately, there was now no way to both ignore his time in Westview and pull the wool out from in front of his eyes.

He trudged forward, stomach in knots, praying that Y/N hadn’t been involved.

October 9th, 2023,

Steve almost destroyed our timeline this morning.

He had originally been assigned to return the stones to their respective places in the past, but thankfully I saw his bullshit plan before he was able to put it into action. It took both Sam and James to restrain him, but Natasha returned the stones and was able to come back to the present before he could escape. He’s still mourning Peggy and has decided to hang up the shield for the moment while he figures himself out, but James is there for him as he has always been. I am jealous in the best of ways.

Wanda still hasn’t taken any of my calls, but Stark insisted I shouldn’t worry.

I will return home today for the first time since I was revived. It scares me. My visions always get clearer when I’m there. I’m afraid that somewhere in the past five years something terrible could have happened that I never even knew about. I suppose the only way of knowing is to wait and see. Hopefully, I will be able to shelf my powers for a couple of decades soon. Seeing and preventing the future is tiring.

October 22nd, 2023,

Pietro visited me in a dream today.

He was dead, bleeding through his clothes as I held him and wept, and yet he was there sitting next to me too. I apologized like I always do. This time, though, he forgave me.

I don’t fully understand what the dream was supposed to signify but he rested his head on my shoulder just like old times and told me he knew. I asked what he was talking about and he said he knew he was going to die when he did, and that it wasn’t my fault.

I turned to ask him why he was telling me that and he was gone. I held his body until I woke up.

Nothing is clear to me yet, but something has changed. There’s been a shift in the energy of the world. Maybe Pietro was trying to warn me… or maybe things are finally falling into place. I can only wait.

October 25th, 2023,

Wanda has a whole town hostage.

She’s wielding chaos magic.

Pietro was an omen

This is all my fault.

Peter clutched his chest as he fought for air. His head was spinning

Y/N could see the future. When taking that and whatever light-based magic she used at the museum into consideration, Peter had no clue what she was capable of. Hell, she might have even more power hiding up her sleeve.

Worse than that, she knew his real name. She had never called him Pietro, not once, and yet she wrote about him like she knew him. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was writing about this universe’s Pietro, but he shut it down quickly. She would have told him if she knew something about his counterpart. Right? Right? He pocketed the idea. Y/N could be capable of anything.

Underestimating her could prove deadly.

There was one last journal entry, boldly written in the same red as the others but scrawled much messier as if it had been done in a hurry. Peter had to force himself to focus on the words as he shook from a healthy mix of fear and rage.

November 1st, 2023,

Jimmy called me today. Peter is here.

Well, not here yet, but he’s here. He called to ask if I could take in a superpowered individual who he had in witness protection. The moment the words reached me I could see them walking in, Jimmy and Peter. My Peter. I accepted, of course. Only 5 hours left to go until they arrive. Surprisingly, journaling is doing little to calm my nerves.

I shouldn’t be this afraid. I know the outcome. I’ve been preparing to meet him for almost 3000 years now. Still, I can’t help but think the next 5 hours will be the longest of my whole existence.

His room is already set up, as it has been for a long time, but I should dust before he gets here so it doesn’t look like I was waiting for him. If I know anything, I know that Peter cannot know about what I am or what he means to me. This burden shall be mine to bear alone.

Is it selfish to hope that he never goes home? Even if it is, I deserve to be a little bit selfish.

Four and a half hours left. Just a little more time until he’s home and safe. I’ll be counting every second.

The journal fell from Peter’s hands with a dull thud.

At that moment, the front door opened.

“Hey, Peter! I’m home, and I brought dinner,” Y/N’s voice was bright as she stepped past the threshold, “where are you?”

“The study,” he called back, “we need to talk,”

Peter could almost hear Y/N’s breath hitching in the other room. Then, silence. All of the warmth that had flowed so abundantly from every nook and cranny of the study moments before seemed to drain away, leaving the room lifeless and cold. All the while the eyes of the painted men watched on like sentinels above the world of man.

A minute passed, maybe two, but soon enough Y/N had appeared in the doorway, eyes cast down to the floor where the journal had fallen from Peter’s grasp. She smiled sadly. “I’m guessing you found my journal,”

He didn’t give her the indulgence of a verbal reply.

“How much did you read?” She whispered, walking past Peter and sitting down on the small, rolling office chair that rested in front of the desk.

“All of it,” he muttered back.

Peter had never been one for confrontation. It was in the nature of his power to want to run from things, and run from them fast. He ran from his bullies, he ran from his father, he ran from his universe… this time, though, there was nowhere to run to.

Strangely, he found that even if there were, he wouldn’t want to run from this.

Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around herself, gripping the soft knit of her sweater sleeves. “I assume you have questions… I’ll answer whatever you want me to. Once you know the truth, we can decide where to go from there,”

Peter couldn’t help himself from blurting out his first thought.

“What the hell are you?”

A small laugh escaped from her lips. It was an awkward thing, loud and crass against the quiet words that had been exchanged moments before.

“What am I,” Y/N chuckled. Slowly, she lowered her head into her hands. “Peter, I’ve been asking myself the same question for a long, long time,” She scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers. It was like she was trying to forget something terrible that she’d seen, her hands desperately finding purchase against her eyelids as she laughed at nothing.

Peter gulped. “Are you…. are you not human?”

Y/N gave him a scathing look that told him his question was a stupid one.

“Well, if you’re not human, where did you come from? Are you an alien?”

Humorless laughter continued to ring out against the cold walls.

“Are you going to let me answer your original question first, or are you going to keep speculating?” She sighed, lifting her gaze to meet him. Exhaustion danced across her face, like all of the life had been drained from her in the short time she had spent speaking to him after she got home.

He stopped himself from questioning her further for the moment in favor of deciphering the sad look in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to believe that he had been mesmerized enough by her beauty to ignore all of the suspicious things she did. In all honesty, he still was.

“I wasn’t born,” Y/N started, hugging herself tighter, “but I didn’t spontaneously appear one day either. I was created. My mother and father are… well, to put it plainly, fae royalty. They were the first fairies, high elves who had evolved to become conduits for life energy, but they were lonely. They wanted a child of their own, an heir who would be powerful enough to protect the realm from invaders, so they found the largest source of energy available: the embodiment of the sun, Lugh.”

Her leg began to bounce, her foot tapping ceaselessly against the wooden floorboards. Peter didn’t quite notice, though, too enraptured in her story to notice much of anything else.

“They combined their life forces with Lugh’s light and created a child with capabilities beyond anything the nine realms had seen up until that point. It stored massive amounts of magical energy within its soul and accomplished all of the typical fae magical feats with no problem, but it was also connected to all the life around it. Elves who met the heiress said that they felt calm in its presence, and felt compelled to give her whatever she desired when they looked into her eyes. They named the child Puck. That child was me,”

“So you’re a fairy?” Peter asked.

“Fairy, fae, elf, freak of nature…” Her voice trailed off into nothingness as she closed her eyes, “I’ve never quite fit into any of the labels I was supposed to,”

“But why do you look so…”

“Human?” Y/N’s voice quivered, “Yeah, after living here so long keeping my human face on is second nature,”

Peter couldn’t tell if he should be terrified, enraged, or intrigued.

As gently as he could manage, he padded over to Y/N on her chair and cupped her small, soft cheek in his hand. She leaned into the touch without a second thought, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a few tears fall from her eyes. His voice was soft as he perched down at her level.

“Show me?”

Y/N gave him a short nod before pulling her face away. Both of them winced minutely at the loss of contact. Slowly, though, the glamour around Y/N’s face melted away. Once it was gone, she was finally herself.

Her ears were pointed, sloping in a soft horizontal line through the strands of her hair. Her eyes were different, too. The pupil was larger, more doll-like, but not by very much. The largest difference was, admittedly, the scars.

Y/N was mostly covered, bundled up in her sweater to fight against the cold, but her hands were littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. Most were old, pale divots in her flesh, but there were a few new ones too, trailing pink and red in angry lines across the meat of her calloused palms. The scars didn’t seem to stop at her hands. Specifically, the largest and most wicked of all the scars was a thick gash that ran all the way down from the top of her cheekbone to the base of her neck. The skin looked as if it had been eviscerated, torn completely through, but somehow it had healed up relatively well.

When Peter met Y/N’s gaze, her face was full of shame.

“Isn’t it atrocious?” she muttered, revealing little, sharp incisors hidden beneath her full upper lip, “You can’t blame me for wanting to hide this from you, Peter, not after seeing me like this. This isn’t the kind of face someone wants to wake up next to in the morning,”

Peter had a hard time finding the right thing to say in response.

He was still angry, and rightfully so. Y/N had been keeping the truth about what she was away from him and still had many more secrets up her sleeve about how they were connected. If he wanted to get the truth out of her he couldn’t get away with going soft so early in the game.

That being said, he still felt for her. His heart ached as she hid the scar on her cheek with her hand. She had been so kind, so outgoing, but now she was a shrinking violet doing her best to disappear from his view.

Peter’s gut said to push forward, but his heart urged him to take her face in his hands and kiss her until the pain went away. In the end, he followed his gut.

“I don’t care about what you look like,” he said, standing up and moving to lean on the doorframe, “I care about answers,”

“Of course you do,” With a heaving breath, Y/N’s face morphed back into its human form, “everybody always does,”

Suddenly, a book flew off the shelf to Peter’s right and landed directly in Y/N’s outstretched hand. “How-” he gaped.

“A retrieval spell,” she muttered, “Now where was I…”

She searched through the pages for a moment before landing on an illustration and turning it out towards Peter. It looked ancient, hand done with some sort of brown ink and captioned in a language he couldn’t begin to understand. The illustration itself was easier to decipher. It featured a child in a crown holding up a sword in front of what looked to be an army.

“Because I was created instead of born I was able to skip all the messy parts of childhood, but that meant I had to skip all the fun ones. From the day I was born my parents had me trained to take the throne. I learned combat, diplomacy, etiquette… my parents weren’t equipped for fighting against the Asgardians who always seemed to be eyeing our land, but they were determined to make sure I was. I was a machine of rote motions until I saw you for the first time,”

Peter froze. “Me?”

Y/N cracked a smile. “Who else? I was less than 100 years old then, still a child at heart, and one night when I fell asleep I dreamed of a silver-haired man who looked nothing like any of the elves I knew in a strange room filled with mysterious artifacts. It was like seeing the world through brand new eyes. My gift was so magical back then, so new, a source of joy. I kept seeing you wherever I went, flashes of your life behind my eyes during the day and full prophetic dreams at night… things didn’t stay that pleasant for long, though,”

Her eyes began to well up with tears.

Peter considered reaching out to comfort her, but his confusion held him back. She blinked the tears away before she continued.

“I started seeing terrible things happening to you. I saw experiments, broken limbs… even death. They wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I tried to turn them off they just wouldn’t stop,” her voice trembled and her shoulders shook as she spoke. “That’s when my parents sent me away. They claimed I couldn’t let the citizens see their future leader as someone weak, so I was taken into isolation until I learned how to control what I saw. It took me almost 350 years of silent study and meditation but I was able to master my foresight. I didn’t just see you anymore, I could see anyone’s future if I put my mind to it, and I could control when I had my visions. They only let me out to fight in the war against the Asgardians, who had taken the chance to attack,”

“So you’re telling me that thousands of years before I was even born you just… saw me in the future?” Peter’s voice wavered. Y/N shrugged and turned the book back towards herself, searching through the pages once again.

“Yes and no. It’s hard to explain,”

“Well try!” his voice came out in a sudden shout. Y/N flinched. “I just want to know what the hell is going on here! Because, the way I’m seeing it right now, I got kidnapped out of my home because someone decided I was predestined to play house with an elf instead of staying with my friends and family,”

He regretted his tone the second he stopped shouting.

Y/N, despite her reaction, seemed almost unphased. In fact, she seemed to be shaking less than she had been before.

“Y/N… I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, “don’t apologize. Not to me. This whole mess is my fault,”

Peter went to open his mouth again, to find something to say, but found himself speechless. He was speechless a lot around Y/N. She turned the book around again.

This time the illustration seemed to be of a woman on a throne. There was red ink on the page too, not just brownish-black like the last one. It was splattered across the woman and at her feet.

“I fought Asgardians for 50 years on the front lines, killing a great many of them in the process. Even Thor, their golden boy with his stupid magical hammer, was no match for me. I saw every move they made before they ever made it, so once I diminished enough of their troops they pulled out of Alfheim and returned home with their tails between their legs. When I returned home I was revered as a great hero and it was like I had never failed my parents in the first place. Their precious progeny was home victorious and prepared to reap the rewards. My teenage rebellion kicked in, though, so instead of taking back my place in the palace I demanded my parents let me go to earth as my reward for winning them their war.”

“Is that how you got your scars?” Peter asked.

Y/N sighed, closing the book and returning it to the shelf with a wave of her hand. “Yes.” Slowly, she raised her hand and touched her cheek where her scar would have been. “Some came later, but the worst of them are from the final battle. I only let my concentration slip for a second, but that was enough time for Thor to summon lightning with that damned hammer of his and get a good hit in,”

“I’m gonna be honest, your whole backstory sounds pretty shitty,”

She barked out another laugh as Peter allowed himself to smile. “If you think that was shitty, the next 2,500 years of history won’t be pleasant to listen to,”

“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you,” Peter said, but it was an empty threat. Sure, the rage he had initially felt was still there, but what had been at a boil when Y/N came home was now just a low simmer.

She offered him a soft smile back. “I wouldn’t dare. Now, that’s enough about my past. If there’s anything else you want to ask, now's the time,”

Peter busied himself with cracking his knuckles. “I still don’t really get what’s so special about me to you. Like, yeah you saw some bad stuff happen to me when you were a kid, but it’s been a really long time since then. What makes me so special?”

The smile fell from Y/N’s face.

“That’s… well that’s a good question, Peter,” She wrung her hands, standing to take a step towards him, “I don’t think I’ll be able to say it… can I show you instead?”

He quirked his head to the side. “What?”

“Can I show you?” Y/N gently tapped her forehead, “with my power?”

A soft ‘ah’ escaped Peter’s lips before he stepped forward, bridging the gap between them. “Do what you need to do,” He didn’t say he trusted her, but he didn’t need to. It went without saying.

She reached out a hand and touched Peter’s forehead without another word. Then, the wave hit him.

Seeing Y/N’s mind was like the first time he had ever run at full speed, an endless barrage of emotions and images blurring as he rushed towards a focal point. It felt like an eternity before the motion stopped, but once it did he found himself looking out at a rolling sea with the weight of an arm around his shoulders. In a trance, he turned his head to look at whoever was there.

“I suppose this is it for us, my dearest Lady Puck?” The man asked, running his free hand through his long black hair. His tone was light yet thoughtful. Peter easily recognized him from the first portrait on the wall.

Without any effort, a response poured from Peter’s… no, Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, Loki. My new name is Y/N,”

“Ah, yes. Remind me again why you’re renouncing your godliness and going to live among the common rabble?” The man’s words were suddenly mocking, “Oh right, you have to assimilate to prepare for your darling Peter,”

“Don’t say it like that,” The Y/N of the past pulled her knees to her chest.

Loki nodded. “Forgive me. I’m just taking this a little harder than I should be. Who would have thought that I would fall in love with my mortal enemy?” He paused, “Will our paths cross again,”

Y/N shook her head no. “You will return to Asgard and remain there for as long as I can see. I think this is where we diverge,”

Peter watched from his position of backseat driver as Loki leaned close to Y/N. “Well, all good things must come to a close at some point,” He stroked her scar, smiling softly, “but don’t think that I’ll let you go to just anyone. I know this Peter is just a puny mortal, so expect me to come back and find you once he appears. Consider me your own personal Mjolnir! I will determine if he’s worthy of your heart,”

Giggles escaped from Y/N’s lips. “Loki! Don’t you dare,”

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried, darling,” He growled back, before capturing Y/N’s lips in a kiss. When he pulled away, he smiled his sharp-toothed grin. “Fly free, Lady Puck. I’ll see you again,”

A deep, foreign ache in Peter’s heart told him that he never did. Then, Loki was gone, blurred into the flood of memories and feelings in Y/N’s mind. The second time was easier than the first, but he still felt an acute nausea as he was thrown into another memory. This time he seemed to be much closer to the present.

Y/N was sketching something on a canvas, penciling in soft, rounded lines as the man with the pencil mustache lounged on a nearby chair, tie crooked.

“So tell me about this Peter,” he asked, taking a long puff from a cigar.

“Well, everyone, where I’m from, says he must be my soulmate. He’s witty, and fast, and has this phenomenal shock of silver hair,”

Peter, despite what he’d just seen in Y/N’s memories, was still shocked at her words. Soulmates?

“But you’ve never met him, so how do you know?” He asked, “Look, sweet cheeks, I’m not one to judge, but how do you know he’s even real?”

Y/N scowled, letting her pencil slip and adding an unwanted line to her sketch. “Howard, have I ever been wrong before?”

“Well no, but-”

“Exactly,” Y/N abandoned the sketch in favor of walking over and sitting at the foot of Howard’s chair. “Besides, even if he isn’t real, I know enough about him that he might as well be,”

“Whatever you say, sweet thing,” He chuckled, offering her his cigar. She accepted it thankfully.

“Anyways, it’s like I can feel him getting closer and closer,” Peter could just feel Y/N’s grin as she spoke, cheeks flushed, “I just can’t wait to finally meet him.”

“I’m guessing that means you’ll have to give up helping me with my little projects,”

Y/N took a long puff, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “Not exactly. We still have time left, Howard. Besides, I don’t do much to help, I can’t even touch any of your materials,”

Howard snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re allergic to silver and iron of all things. I didn’t even know that was possible,”

“You’re just mad it means you have to buy me expensive jewelry instead of the cheap shit you’ve bought for other women,”

“You know me too well,”

They both laughed and Y/N handed Howard back his cigar.

In the blink of an eye, Peter was transported again. It was almost like riding a bike after a long time, where the deeper he delved the more comfortable he felt. This time, instead of nausea, there was a strange warmth in his chest.

Y/N stood at the edge of a crowded dance hall as the men from the 3rd and 4th portrait approached, drinks in hand. Peter was beginning to see a pattern.

“A sidecar for the pretty lady,” the bigger of the men joked while leading the group to a small table.

Y/N accepted the glass gladly, taking a long drink. “Thank you, James”

The small one sat across from her and took a long drink of his beer.

“You too, Steve,” she amended, earning a smile.

“Now doll,” James leaned in close, his forearms braced against the table, “Steve and I wanted to thank you for the little favor you did us last week. Didn’t we, Steve?”

Steve nodded quickly. “You really are a knockout gal’ Y/N. You didn’t have to, but you did, and we couldn’t be more grateful,”

Y/N shrugged. “It was nothing. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,”

“We never doubted that-”

James jumped in. “We just wanted you to know we were thinking about you, and Steve brought up that it would be nice to return the favor. I was thinking maybe we could help find you a beau, anybody you want, and by anybody, we mean anybody, not limited to conventional partners”

Y/N’s face began to flush as she started laughing, offering each of the men one of her hands. “James, Steve, I love you both to death and I would never want to make you feel like I felt anything else, but no. No way,”

The two men joined her in her laughter, but Steve stopped a little quicker than the other two did, looking down at his hands. “We just noticed that you don’t get out much. You’re beautiful Y/N, really beautiful, and it’s not fair that you have to be alone,”

“Oh, Steve” She gave his hand a squeeze, “you’re incredibly sweet, but my heart already belongs to someone. He…” Y/N’s voice trailed off, the ambient noise in the bar suddenly deafening. Peter could hear his own name, whispered gently from the depths of her mind.

James gave her a look of pity. “Oh, doll… did you lose him overseas? Is that why?”

Y/N was shocked but quickly covered for herself. “Yes, how did you know?”

“You’ve just got that faraway widow’s look in your eye,” James responded.

“Sorry for your loss,” Steve added quickly.

Y/N looked down and noticed her glass was empty. She stood suddenly. “It’s alright boys, it’s alright. Now, which of you is gonna do me the honor of joining me for the next song?”

Peter was pulled from the memory gently the moment James shot her a wolflike grin, drifting through the collage of colors and feelings for a moment before he heard his name, whispered from within the darkness.

There was a strong pull towards the light, dragging him out of Y/N’s mind, but something was calling for him to go deeper, delve further to find… well, he didn’t know yet. In a split-second decision, he threw himself towards the voice only to find himself strapped to some kind of chair, screaming.

No, Y/N was screaming. It was an atrocious, wet sound, and Peter could taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. He felt no pain physically, but he could feel the memory of pain, the phantom sensation of torturous, searing agony burning through her veins. Her screaming cut off suddenly, and Peter was once again pulled from the memory and into another.

“Prinţesă?” A man asked, and Peter looked up to find his doppelganger from the final portrait looking down at Y/N. He looked worse for wear, with dirt and dust coating his face and hair. Around them, the sounds of shooting and crumbling buildings rang out in the streets. Y/N was gripping his sleeve like a lifeline. “What are you doing?”

“Please, Pietro, don’t go,” fat tears ran down Y/N’s cheeks and Peter felt a pit of dread drop into his stomach. “You can’t go,”

“I will be right back for you,” Pietro reassured her, “and then once Ultron is defeated we will return to Stark’s compound with Wanda. Things will be good from now on. No more Hydra, no more sneaking around, just you and me and the whole world waiting to be explored,”

Y/N gripped his sleeve tighter. “You don’t understand! You can’t go. I can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not after I've only just found you after all this time!"

Pietro laughed softly. With a grimey hand, he wiped the wetness from Y/N’s face. “Draga mea, you do not have to worry about me. I am faster than those stupid machines.” Suddenly, a child’s wails filled the air. Pietro looked around, searching for the source, but Y/N didn’t budge, almost as if she expected it. “You need to let me go, I need to go help that child,”

Y/N shook her head no. “We need to go, Pietro, we need to get out of here. I can fly us off before it hits and then we can run and never look back. Please, come with me Pietro, before it’s too late,”

He yanked his arm away from Y/N’s grip, puzzled. “And leave these innocents to die?”

She nodded furiously, sobbing silently as she held herself. “Are their lives really so important that you’d throw yours away?”

Pietro backed away from Y/N slowly, disgust spreading on his face. “Yes,” he spat, “and I thought you agreed,” Then, he paused, “We will talk about this later. I am disappointed in you Y/N,” ...and then he was gone before she even had the chance to say goodbye.

The gunshots that followed were the loudest of all.

Then, Y/N was running through the streets, searching frantically for any sign of Pietro. When she found him, he was already getting cold.

"PIETRO!"

Her wail was deafening as she fell to the ground, scooping his body into her arms and hugging it to her chest.

“I can fix you, don’t worry Pietro,” she babbled, spit running from her mouth as she tried to push life energy from herself into him, “Don’t leave me alone now, not after all this time. I can’t lose you like this. Just hold on a little bit longer,”

No matter how much energy she poured into Pietro’s body, it just drained right back out. That didn’t stop her from trying, though. Somewhere in the distance, Peter could hear someone wailing his name, but he held onto the memory, gazing down at his dead doppelganger’s empty eyes.

Y/N’s babbling didn’t stop, even as the ground beneath her began falling down. She ran her fingers through Pietro’s messy hair and held him closer to her chest.

“It’s okay Pietro, you’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you anymore. Le ni meleth, Pietro. Everything will be okay now. I’ll be with you soon, nin melda. Wait for me. I am so sorry,” As an impact destroyed the street around them, Y/N pressed a soft kiss to Pietro’s forehead, and Peter was thrown forcibly from her mind.

“Peter!” Y/N wailed, hands shaking as she pressed a scarred palm to his forehead and pushed his sweat-soaked hair away. “Peter you have to wake up now, you have to wake up!”

He shot up, heaving in a breath that soothed his burning lungs. It was a shock to be back in his own body. Slowly, Peter realized he wasn’t standing anymore. Instead, his head had been resting on Y/N’s lap while he splayed out on the cold wood floor.

As he reacclimated to his body, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed.

Once he had enough air in his lungs, Peter only had one question; “What the hell just happened?”

Y/N cried louder, rocking back and forth. “You died! I messed up and you died! It’s all my fault, all of this is all my fault,”

Peter pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Y/N,” he said firmly, “You need to calm down and tell me what just happened,”

She shook her head no, clawing at her hair as she dribbled onto the floor.

In a moment of weakness, which was probably warranted, Peter broke. “Y/N!” he shouted, “Get it together! What. Happened.”

Y/N stilled, eyes dead. “I was trying to pull you out of my memories,” she mumbled, still trembling, “but for some reason, I couldn’t get you to let go. I kept trying and trying but it wouldn’t work. Then you just… collapsed and your heart stopped. I was trying to heal you, but I had to keep the connection between us going while I did so you wouldn’t get lost in my memories and- and-” her words devolved into quiet sobs as Peter slouched against the wall, lifting his hand and finding that his cheeks were wet too.

He wanted to comfort her. To tell her it was okay, that he was okay. To make sure she knew he wasn’t angry anymore, that he understood… that he loved her too. Somehow, though, he couldn’t find the words. All he could do was stare forward and cry as the vision of Pietro’s dead body danced behind his eyelids.

When Y/N finally quieted, she stood silently. “What did you see,” she whispered.

“Pietro,” Peter wheezed back.

Y/N nodded, wiping her face.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. You were never supposed to see that.” She walked towards the door, opening it up and pausing in the doorway. “Jimmy’s number is next to the rotary phone in the den and my bank card will be on the side table in the mudroom. I… goodbye, Peter. I’ll let myself out,"

Peter turned, reaching a hand out to try to stop her from leaving, but she was already gone, so he just let himself go limp, crying for a man he never met but knew better than he ever wanted to.

-----

Elvish/Sindarin Translation:

Le Ni Meleth: I love you

Nin Melda: My dearest

a/n: Thank you so much for reading!!! The word count really got away from me, but at least now all of the exposition is out of the way! Expect the next part to be out either today or tomorrow.

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks! <3

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #quicksilver #fanfic #x-men fanfiction #ralph bohner

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todaydreambelieversfic · 3 years

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 2

Author : @coffeegleek

Share one of your strengths.

Humor, even if I'm the only one who's laughing. There's a reason I have the often used tag, "Sometimes I think I'm funny." :)

Share one of your weaknesses.

Redundancy. I try so damn hard not to repeat words, phrases, and sentences yet they always sneak in.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

A Nest of Scars because it terrified me to put it out into the world. I both wanted to tell Kurt's origin story of his time in juvie, yet was/am still afraid I would attract haters and pedos. I held onto it for a year before publishing it. It doesn't have much traction at all and most of me is okay with that. I wrote it because I wanted to expand more on why Kurt acts the way he does in Empty Nest and Rebuilding the Nest. I also wanted to tell about the RL horrors that are happening to POC kids in the U.S. It was NOT an easy fic to write emotionally. It wasn't fun to write Kurt being abused from ages 6-13. My brain wouldn't let the story go, so now it's out there and done. Once the sequel to it and a couple of one shots are written, I'm hoping to let the verse go. Of course, I said that after Rebuilding the Nest too. Another hard part of that verse is wanting to write Kurt and Blaine's much happier life after Rebuilding the Nest. I have the characters, setting, and some basics down, but never could get enough plot to turn it into a worthwhile story.

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

The crack fic one shots, whose names escape me. The Hallmark Christmas fics have been a blast. The only challenge to A Very Hallmark Christmas was when I started spiraling into more Kurt angst than I'd wanted for the verse and had to pull myself out of it. Writing A Soulmate for Santa Claus, the movie Kurt and Blaine were filming during A Very Hallmark Christmas, and the commercials that aired during the movie were a joy. It's why I want to get back to the verse.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

A true passion. I've been writing my entire life and have totes full of my work from childhood to now. It's a life long dream to have my original sci-fi novel published. I worked on it on and off for nearly twenty years; the last major overhaul was finalized a few years ago.

Is there an episode or character or arc above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Burt's deep love for Kurt. As the parent of a gay son who ended up with PTSD due to homophobic and racist bullying, harassment, and assault it's a relationship I deeply relate to. I also relate to Kurt being an outsider who tries his best to rise above it all. Carole is a wonderful, relatable parent figure too.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Write the fics you want to read, what you love, and want to see more of.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

That language is changing and that I should stop complaining (in private or on posts about grammar) about people not using pronouns in their fics. Yes, language changes over time, but in this time, Kurt should not reach over to Kurt's dresser to pull out Kurt's lube and condoms.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

A Very Hallmark Christmas. It would be such a humorous delight with just a bit of relevant angst. It has everything - two actors (Kurt and Blaine) falling in love as their characters do on screen. An obnoxious child actor (Justin Goolsby's son) who makes the other child actors cry. A frustrated production assistant (Tina) who wants to kill the director (Artie.) A famous guest star (Mercedes Jones) who sings the movie's pivotal Christmas song. The actress who is so tired of having to be super nice in her roles (Santana.) POC actors complaining about the roles they're always forced to play. The shameless product placements. I watched hundreds of hours of Hallmark Christmas movies to get the cheesy dialogue just right. I even threw some fun Burt and Carole in the end. Can you tell I shamelessly love this fic and verse? :)

What’s your process? Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? What are the perfect writing conditions for you?

I write the scenes out of order. Or rather, I start to write from the beginning, but there always ends up being a scene or block of scenes which take place later in the story that are written in-between. I always have at least one, sometimes two, google docs of notes that accompany it. If I didn't, the fic would get way too messy with my color-coded notes. I have outlines of sorts. For A Nest of Scars, its chapters go by Kurt's age and each has a line or two of dialogue as the quote at the beginning that tells the reader what's going to happen. I had many of those outlined before and during the writing process because I was very selective about what happens to him when. I had rules set in place and the ending had already been established in the original fic, Empty Nest.

With A Very Hallmark Christmas and A Very Weird Christmas Adventure, each chapter was defined by the Klaine Advent words of the day. I could never keep up to a chapter a day, so often I would have chapter notes with the words and ideas for them.

Perfect writing conditions - living room couch (where I essentially eat, sleep, and live as it's "my space" within the house,) a blanket and laptop on my lap, pillows comforting my back, lights off, cup of coffee on the coffee table, and the TV on to something I only half want to watch with the sound off and the remote at the ready in case I glance over and want to take a break from writing. Sometimes I'll have a song that I'll play on repeat if it's helping me to write a scene. (I do this a lot when writing original work; less so with Klaine fanfic.)

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

A Very Hallmark Christmas - Semi-famous actor!Kurt and semi-famous actor!Blaine work the Hallmark Christmas Movie circuit in true B-actor form. Though they’ve worked on the same movies before, this time they land roles that could change their lives forever. Mostly happy fluff, but has some angst. This is Hallmark, so of course it has a happy ending. Many of my favorite tropes have been included: badboy!Kurt who really has a heart of gold and sweetness, famous!Kurt, famous!Blaine, actor!Kurt, actor!Blaine, soulmates, soulmarks, AU Glee, angst with a happy ending, and fluff. There’s also a heavy dose of cheesy Hallmark Christmas Movie writing in both the script and commercials. In true AU form, canon characters abound in various non-canon roles.

Originally this was my Klaine Advent 2018 fic that I brain froze on and knew was confusing because the first 2 chapters were stand-alone, random one shots before I got the idea in chapter 3 for a whole verse. So this is that Hallmark story verse only reworked to make it better and stand on its own. All of the Advent words are included in this fic.

A Soulmate for Santa Claus - This is the movie, A Soulmate for Santa Claus, that was being filmed in the Kurt/Blaine fic, A Very Hallmark Christmas. It includes the commercials that were being filmed as well. New material is included.

A Very Weird Christmas Adventure - A crack fic of fun and all the tropes that continues after A Very Hallmark Christmas. You don't have to have read the original fic, but it helps.

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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zed-36 · 3 years

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For the character thingy: Gelorum!

i was hoping someone would send gelorum first kjdfhgkjdf

favorite thing about them: her voice..... her design (both WR and and Acceleracers)... she’s just got that straight up attractive evil female villain vibe and i love the entire aesthetic.

least favorite thing about them: less about her character but more about writing- but shes insanely lacking on actual backstory and details to make all the drone stuff really make sense, its all kind of a mess. i think she has the potential to be more, with the base she is. which is why i came up with my own massive backstory for her ldfjgkdfg but in general she is actually quite bland imo.

favorite line: *points at my blog title* correct me if my quote isnt correct but after she faced Kurt when he said he wouldnt work for her, she said something like “It was a pleasure using you, Kurt Wylde.” and god. you give me a hot female villain whos says THAT? how can i not love it

brOTP: i have had some weird AU in my head for a while that would involve Karma/Gelorum, which i have yet to expand on but trust me

OTP: probably tezla/gelorum...Maybe kurt/gelorum. i had a fic with taro/gelorum but i dont actually ship that it was just...for the fic setting dkfjghkdf

nOTP: hard to think of any when the fandom doesnt have many ships but, probably not kadeem/gelorum... and dont think i wanna see vert/gelorum ever (mostly bc i am playing with the idea of jack/gelorum so)

random headcanon: this is very much based off my old post about a headcanon backstory here- she functioned as a normal human in society for a while and sought out education vaguely tied to the wheel due to her drone coding tell her so, where she attended college and met Tezla. they worked together and their cooperation for research was together, until she realized what she was after and split off from tezla to awaken the drones and start her own thing to steal the wheel of power.

unpopular opinion: as much as she is a villain i think its cool to understand the angle that she is a robot that was programmed to do what she is doing. it doesnt mean she gets pity, it just gives a different reason.

song i associate with them: ok so i gotta make some acceleracers playlists at some point but for now but um Strange Invisible by Julien-K. which is on my Kurt wylde playlist but fits both of them in my head

favorite picture of them: i dont have the resources to post pictures rn, sorry. but theres so much lovely fanart of her in my #fan art tag!

#ask game #Anonymous

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florrickandassociates · 4 years

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TGF Thoughts: 4x04-- The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It

The gang doesn’t like being satirized and I don’t like this episode.

No episode needs to be 57 minutes long. Is it possible that seeing the runtime put me in a bad mood before watching this episode? Absolutely.

Bianca is still trying to get Lucca to take a week off and come play on the beach. This is weird, right?

She’s using a drone to take a selfie which… yikes. Bianca asks what Lucca has in Chicago to match the beach. Lucca takes a look out the window and instead of seeing FakeChicago, she sees a window washer’s ass crack. Lucca protests that she has work in Chicago and can’t leave (are we going to mention her baby?). Before Bianca can ask more questions, David Lee calls Lucca into a meeting.

A former client who says he’s been “bouncing from one [firm] to the other” (which sort of explains why David Lee and Lucca would both have experience with this client who was at RBL a year ago?) is angry because he’s being defamed by a new play. He says his divorce is in the play and wants to sue.

Lucca ChumHums the playwright and recognizes him as a former associate. She brings the case to Adrian’s attention. Before Adrian understands that confidential info made it into the play, he talks about how you shouldn’t give satire oxygen because it will just go away. Easier said than done, huh, Adrian?

They DID actually fire Alan North for drug use last year. We never saw the actor but his firing was referenced as precedent for firing Maia. Thanks Alan, I guess?

(Right, I used to spend most of these recaps complaining about Maia! It is very nice not to be doing that anymore.)

Adrian jumps into the case to prevent the client from suing RBL.

We have to see the scene that ended the last episode again. That’s a little clumsy. Maybe trim the stuff we’ve already seen in an episode that’s this long?

How does Jay POSSIBLY know that one specific dude up at STRL is blocking Diane from searching “What is Memo 618” on Bar-Swarm? I have questions.

Diane immediately heads upstairs to ask this dude about Memo 618. Jay wonders if that’s smart and Diane doesn’t care. As I said to an anon earlier, I feel like now is the time to get a journalist on the case.

Even though Diane storms upstairs uninvited, she’s told “they’re waiting for you.” Creepy.

Diane meets a lot of people, including Bryan Kneef (of internet blocking fame) and a dude who won’t stop hiccuping.

Oh GOD are we going to have to hear one of these stupid stories from Mr. Firth in every single episode? No fucking wonder this episode is so long.

Bryan is mad at Diane for poaching his clients. Diane has no idea what he’s talking about. Diane seems to know that her investigator is checking his clients to figure out why he’s blocking her internet. Does Diane actually know Jay is investigating his clients? Or is she just assuming that’s how he found out who was doing the blocking? Because literally as soon as Diane heard Kneef’s name she ran upstairs; there would be no time for her or Jay to begin looking into his clients.

Mr. Firth asks for Diane not to steal Kneef’s clients and Kneef not to block Diane’s internet access. They agree, but it’s clear neither of them are going to stop doing what they were doing.

Jay discovers that one of Kneef’s cases disappeared… when he was losing.

Oh, Caleb’s last name is Garlin, not Garland. Noted. Also, I think I mistakenly said STRL was British a few weeks ago. It doesn’t appear to be.

Marissa bothers Caleb again and asks him to tell her a joke. He does, but she’s unimpressed.

Caleb has a photographic memory. I like Caleb so far. I feel like he’s kind of what they wanted Finn to be-- a charming good guy. But we’ll see; it’s early yet.

Caleb gives Diane the number of a legal code the judge needed to review. In a sequence that goes on 30 seconds too long, Diane discovers this code redirects to another code, which redirects right back endlessly. Fun!

When Diane goes to check a physical book, she discovers all the legal books are fake. Sounds about right.

Ah, this terrible attorney who hits on young women is back because of reasons related to the other case that disappeared. Marissa is now helping Diane with her 618 quest, maybe because she’s met this creep before?

Diane offers to represent him (he’s being sued for doing a shitty job on disappearing case).

Meanwhile, Adrian and Charlotte go to see “Cocksucker in Chains”, which turns out to be about an African American firm populated by characters who are clearly supposed to be the RBL partners. Julius narrates the play, Adrian likes to be dominated by the Diane character while roleplaying a slave to Diane’s dominatrix (yikes), etc. Adrian is named “Aiden” and Diane is “Dana”. This seems like a good time to remind you all of the original TGW character names from the Pilot outline: Alicia Follick, David Follick (and David Follick Jr.!!!), Dawna Lockhart, and Will Garvin.

The first time through, I was appreciative (and shocked) we got so few scenes from the play. Usually if the Kings have a device like this, we tend to get… more of the device than is necessary. Y’all know how this one turns out.

This play, from what we see of it, looks kind of terrible. That said, I think it’s SUPER realistic, and interesting, that a low-level black associate would see all the white people coming into the firm as “dominating” a black man who gets off on being submissive. I don’t think that’s an accurate characterization of Adrian’s actions but if you don’t know his reasoning or how things played out, it absolutely could seem like Diane has all the power. And I imagine that young, idealistic lawyers who signed on to work at a firm that was proudly all-black would not have been thrilled by Diane’s sudden appearance and all of the changes that followed. Remember how in season one RBL had things it stood for and then Barbara left and then all it stood for was money?

Relatedly, remember that little throwaway line about how Barbara donated MORE money to HRC than Diane Lockhart did? Heh.

Adrian, as the episode title indicates, DOES NOT LIKE BEING SATIRIZED and tells Lucca they need to shut the play down. That escalated quickly.

Please explain to me how I accidentally memorized the name of the actor playing Kovac but didn’t memorize the character’s name.

Diane tells Liz and Adrian about her latest Memo 618 adventure and Adrian keeps asking why this matters. “I’m not asking for your permission; I’m just filling you in,” Diane notes. “Maybe you should be asking for our permission,” Adrian counters because he does not want to be dominated by Diane. “Maybe. But I’m not,” she responds.

Liz thinks that Adrian acted weirdly. Adrian explains he doesn’t like how Diane insinuates she can overrule them. Liz has no idea what Adrian is talking about. So he explains the play. Liz still doesn’t think it’s a big deal and asks to take it over.

She then gets Caleb involved-- I guess Lucca is just done working now? Okay? It was nice to have Lucca scenes in this episode while it lasted!!!

Liz and Caleb go to see the play and now we get to see the scenes where Liz is satirized. Fake Liz sings, because of COURSE they are going to have the FAKE version of her sing. Her song is about how her daddy is a sexual predator. It’s quite upsetting.

Liz and Caleb stay for a Q&A in which the playwright says the client in the play was “based on” (not “inspired by”). (Actually this happens after my second bullet but meh)

Then there’s a white woman who goes on a rant that feels too ridiculous to be true but apparently it’s lifted almost verbatim from an actual incident that happened at a Slave Play Q&A (I am not New York enough to have gotten the reference without the internet’s help).

Monica is back! Yay Monica! Nikki just needs to show up on Evil next season and she’ll have been on every Kings show.

Blah blah 618 blah blah. I don’t dislike this arc but I don’t have much to say about it. Like, I get it, corporations are powerful and the law is fake and this is a way of commenting on the insanity of the world while backing away from the politics. But other than saying that and enjoying the twists and turns… I don’t have anything to add.

Man, I miss character based drama. That’s not a criticism of the show, but this recap format is way less interesting (to write, and probably to read) when I don’t have anything to sink my teeth into.

Adrian doesn’t want to settle because now Adrian is mad. The client gets what he wants and Adrian insists they keep going. I mean, if the episode stopped now it would be a reasonable, even short, episode, and we’ve got fifty seven whole minutes to fill..

Liz is also on board to prolong the case. Lucca, who actually has perspective, tells Adrian he’s not acting in the client’s best interest. Adrian denies it. LOL, sure.

At this exact moment Lucca receives (and looks at) a text from Bianca, who is still pursuing her. Tempting.

Liz asks Marissa if she’s heard of Cocksucker in Chains. She has, and she is getting a “gang” together to go see it, because of course she is.

David Lee enjoys the play. Diane and Kurt, less so. Julius and his wife do not like it at all. Also apparently we HAD seen Julius’s wife before and I somehow FORGOT?????

Play!Julius monologuing about justice makes Real!Julius reevaluate his decisions.

Then we get into this weird Diane and Kurt sex plot that is kind of about the idea of problematic kinks (like getting off on watching a fake version of your white wife whip a black man) but is mostly just an excuse for fanservice in the form of Christine Baranski in sexy get-ups. She’s got an amazing figure, but does that alone justify this subplot? (I say no.)

(Also I’d be way more invested in a plotline about McHart’s sex life if it didn’t begin and conclude in the back half of a single episode. It’s sparked by the play-- not any ongoing issues-- and concludes in a cute way so to me it is… nothing.)

Marissa goes undercover as a playwright. Everyone in the group dislikes the writer of Cocksucker in Chains… a lot. They hand over the drafts easily.

Liz and Caleb spend a late night reading smut said by fake Liz in an early draft script to each other. Over it already. I was never a fan of boss/employee plots, and in this era, with this character who has SO MUCH potential but never really gets plotlines of her own, I have zero patience for this bullshit. Liz deserves better.

What really confuses me is that somehow Liz/Caleb is supposed to be about… investigating what interracial relationships are like???? If they’re so insistent on showing this can’t they… do something other than this? Random stranger at a bar?

I do not like this thing that is happening to Liz where whenever she gets a plot of her own it’s about fucking someone she shouldn’t be fucking. I haven’t forgotten what the writers did to Geneva Pine in late season seven for LITERALLY NO REASON.

Liz would not flirt with an employee. Like, just stop. Liz has spent the last year coming to terms with her father being a serial assailant and we are going to deal with that by… having her make eyes at Caleb? That is not interesting or complicated.

And, tbh, it’s especially insulting to Liz when none of this feels motivated in character and ALL of it feels motivated in “we need a sexy forbidden romance so we can explore themes.” Get this plot away from Liz.

This episode is too long, in case I haven’t already said that enough times.

And now the scene in which Bryan Kneef, the latest Rebel Dude Lawyer, says the word “ass” many times. I repeat: this episode is too long.

Mr. Firth talks to Diane about pursuing 618. I don’t understand Mr. Firth’s deal. Why does he let Diane continue? Is he just a person who happens to be powerful who is actually trying to do a fair job and be understanding? This show just doesn’t have characters like that so you see why I am skeptical.

Again with the window washers. Of all the symbols of the problems with office life, this one?! (It plays especially poorly right now-- I wish that my biggest problem with my workspace was that there are people cleaning the windows to make my view nicer and not, you know, that my current workspace is my bedroom.)

Firth goes to see Lucca next. Lucca says she doesn’t like her new standing desk. Wait. They got desks that are standing ONLY without consulting the employees?

This scene is succeeding in making me miss the standing desk that I’ve only ever used as a standing desk, like, twice.

No one on this show has a monitor at their desk. I wonder if that’s true to life for law firms.

Now Bianca has found a way to make it part of Lucca’s JOB to come hang out at the beach and this is making me uncomfortable. Firth tells Lucca to go, even though Lucca shares her concern that Bianca just wants a friend. Firth somehow has a similar story to share and tells Lucca “the rich are not like us.” K. Sure. Maybe we can get away with calling Lucca well-off instead of rich but Firth? Rich. Maybe not ultra wealthy but dude is rich.

SERIOUSLY what is with the window washers?

Enjoy this scene of Diane the dominatrix, fans. It’s here for you.

(I don’t mean that snarkily against fans. I mean that snarkily against the show.)

The stock footage clip with the moon over Chicago is one of the more interesting stock footage clips I’ve seen the show use (plus it actually looks like the neighborhood Diane would live in!)

Oh I am just so thrilled that at the 44 minute mark, we are starting to do a series of unnecessary scenes in which the characters converse with their actor counterparts. What a good use of time.

And the sad thing is that I should like this device… but I don’t. None of this is actually building up the characters for me? How invested can I be in Diane and Kurt’s sex life problems when I’ve known about them for less than half of the episode? How interested can I be in deconstructing

And I don’t need a scene of Julius debating if he should be honest or not, because the scene of him watching the play was enough to make me understand he’s having doubts about complying with 618.

And you know what I REALLY, TRULY, DO NOT NEED? ALL OF THIS ATROCIOUS LIZ/CALEB PLOT.

Why is Play Liz so horny? What about Real Liz made the playwright write Liz to be like this? And if it’s not accurate, why is it getting under Liz’s skin like this? I get the Diane one because it was a turn-on and it makes Diane wonder about dominating (outside of the bedroom, too). I get the Adrian one because I mean holy shit that’s a big claim to make. And I get the Julius one because Julius loves to be the voice of reason/hear his own voice and feels like a hypocrite. But Liz? What the fuck is this nonsense?

Liz saying “I’m his boss” and talking about HR does not excuse the fact that we are pretending a boss/employee romance is a good plotline in 2020. And I’m so confused about why THIS is the way they are choosing to explore an interracial relationship.

I have watched TV shows before so obviously as soon as I saw Liz get on the elevator, I knew from the fact that we were watching her leave… she wasn’t going to leave. She was going to go and fuck her employee. Great writing guys.

This also managed to remind me of all my anger at the Red Team Blue Team Willicia kiss (they previewed it as a sneak peak and I was excited that it it didn’t end with them kissing because that’s so cliche… then I watched the episode and I’m still furious about it in season four of the spinoff.) so thanks for that too, writers.

Why is Fake Liz’s stupid song so goddamn long?

“Oh God help me,” Liz says as she knowingly goes to make an incredibly stupid decision I have NOT A SINGLE REASON to believe she would make. But this is The Good Fight, and on The Good Fight we care about plot more than characters.

(Oh. I am in a bad mood.)

The client wants out of the suit because… I mean, duh? He got what he wanted and this should have stopped at like the 20 minute mark?

If I never had to see another one of these “boss and employee awkwardly talk in the office about how it’s nbd they fucked last night” scenes again I would be OVER THE MOON. I watched all of Willicia and I will rewatch all of Willicia, is that not enough?!

I do like Caleb so far, but man, that just makes this worse! I like Caleb and I like Liz and maybe I could even like them together but I am so furious they’re doing the boss/employee thing it just makes me sad to see this happen to characters I like.

Diane is now circling the word “ass” in transcripts of the deposition, but the suit’s been dropped because the suit was settled for 1.8 million. (I am sure that’s a lot to the victim and absolutely nothing to the corporation.)

Also Kovac brings Diane a bird because WE LOVE WACKINESS ON THE GOOD FIGHT.

And now for a scene in which a mysterious visitor gives Kurt a warning to stop Diane from pursuing something dangerous. I thought we were done with this. This shit is what I hated about the Book Club arc in season three: the stakes got too high for me to take it seriously. They run the risk of doing the same with Memo 618. Keep it small scale.

Kurt tells Diane about his visitor, and Kurt and Diane both recognize that this is similar to what happened last year, so at least there’s continuity.

Diane says this isn’t about politics. I mean. Not overtly. But that’s the point. This whole arc is a thinly veiled way of exploring how the legal system breaks down when there’s no enforcement, and lack of enforcement is tied to politics, so… is this really as apolitical as Diane wants it to seem? Certainly it’s less political than Book Club but I don’t think a radical group should be the benchmark.

Diane promises she’ll drop 618, then gets an idea to spice up her sex life by modifying her dominatrix costume into a sexy cowgirl costume. (Diane is not going to drop 618. This is episode 4.)

Did Diane just grab a gun from the bathroom? Why are there guns in the bathroom? I guess it makes sense if she was planning this.

Oh and that’s the end of the episode!!! I DID IT!!!! I MADE IT THROUGH HIS EPISODE A SECOND TIME!

#the good fight #tgfthoughts

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bberryrach · 4 years

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who: rachel berry, kurt hummel ( @krt-hmml), and hiram berry (played by special guest @jstj) what: the one and only hiram berry reunites hummelberry through a variety of acting exercises where: rachel’s apartment when: saturday, september 5 triggers?: the letter “e”

Hiram Berry Hiram Berry was unhappy. His only child, Rachel, his precious jewel, was fighting with her best friend, his (emotionally) adopted son, Kurt. The world was off-kilter, and it was up to Hiram to fix it. He'd always planned for the two of them to grow old together, retiring to an upstate mansion, Rachel in the 'Barbra' wing, and Kurt in the 'Patti' wing. In the entranceway to the house would be a tasteful collection of Broadway relics, and the Berry's own grand piano, to remember songs once sung, and to bring music to a new generation...

Rachel had been a little vague about the details, but Hiram had heard something about 'lying' and 'secret' and 'doesn't appreciate what a good friend I am'. Nothing, in his opinion, that would end a decades-long friendship. So he'd asked Kurt to come to Rachel's apartment, under the guise of needing fashion help. He knew Kurt would understand that that was code for reconciliation -- as if he, Hiram Berry, would need fashion help. Taking a cold bottle of water out of the fridge, Hiram smiled as he heard a knock on the door, straightening up and looking at his daughter. "A knock on the door? Why, I think that's a guest for you."

Kurt Hummel Kurt had been keeping himself busy the past few days, which was a great way to stay numb. Luckily the wedding was only a few days away so between that, preparing for his position at work to be handed off to someone else, and working on his fashion portfolio, Kurt had done a great job of preoccupying himself. After getting a text from Mr. Berry #2 asking for fashion advice, he had yet another thing to focus on. He arranged a time to come over and so here he was, knocking on his former best friend's apartment door. It felt weird, as he'd never needed to knock before, but he really liked Rachel's dads. They were like second fathers to him, and if Hiram needed some pressing fashion advice, Kurt would give it. "Hi," he greeted, stepping into the apartment. "So what's this mysterious fashion emer-" His eyes caught Rachel's and he frowned. "I'm not here to help with your wardrobe, am I?"

Rachel Berry It was always a good day when Rachel’s dads were in town. And how could it not be? Every day in the Berry household was full of song and dance and theatrics, which Rachel, admittedly, missed in New York. Now, even more so, since she was no longer speaking to Kurt. Or any of her friend group besides Jesse, for that matter. But leave it to her dads to cheer her up.

Rachel has just gotten home from jazz brunch, where she officially introduced Jesse as her boyfriend— news which her dads met with excitement and, surprisingly, expectation. Leroy had whisked Jesse away to go suit shopping, and Hiram and Rachel we’re resting before heading to the theater to see Phantom of the Opera, a tradition every time her dads came to town. So it was surprising when there was a knock on the door, and Kurt walked through it. “Excuse me,” she started, a confused look on her face, “what are you doing here?” She turned to her dad and paused, trying to make sense of it. “Did you invite him?”

Hiram Berry Ah, the sweet young children were reunited, and now Hiram could begin to enact his plan. He ushered Kurt inside, holding his hands up in admission as Kurt cracked his code. "You got me. My wardrobe remains impeccable," Hiram grinned, taking Rachel lightly by the shoulders and guiding her over to the couch. "I don't know what is going on between you two, but we're going to work it out. Friendship can't be thrown away over petty things like clashing personalities."

Hiram gestured for Kurt to join them on the couch, leaning forward to survey the two kids. "We're all thespians here, so I've devised a number of roleplay scenarios to enable the two of you to find a resolution. We're going to start with a warm up. You're going to tell me the reason you're arguing with each other, but -- you cannot use the letter E. Kurt, you can begin."

Kurt Hummel Kurt sighed as he realized what Hiram was up to. God, he should have expected this to be a trap. He sat down as he was instructed, leaving room on the couch between himself and Rachel. An eyebrow raised as Rachel's dad put his own twist on the situation. "Fine." He sighed. "But you do realize I can't refer to Rachel at all, right? Her name has an E, and so does 'friend', 'she' and 'her'....Anyways," Kurt pointed at his former friend. "told-" 'me' had an E in it, so he pointed to himself. He then realized both Jesse and Jeffrey had Es in them, and immediately gave up. "It's not an argument anymore....Rachel has made it clear that her idea of being a good friend involves doing things she specifically knows I feel strongly against, and I think she could say the same thing about me."

Rachel Berry Rachel let her dad lead her to the couch, eyebrows still furrowed as she tried to understand what was going on. And then her dad spoke and it started to make sense. Rachel would have been frustrated, but truthfully, she desperately wanted to make things right with Kurt. Not to mention, she loved a good roleplay. After all, it was her dads that gave her such a penchant for the dramatic.

“Kurt, you’ve completely made light of the exercise at hand,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes as Kurt gave up on the warm up. She also found it very telling— he gave up on their friendship too, didn’t he? “Anyways, I’ll go,” Rachel started, turning towards her dad. “Kurt can’t...” She paused for a moment, thinking of a word without an E, “fathom that I would withhold information about my... untold suitor from him. But I only did it to... guard him from hurt.” She back settled into her seat, pleased that she succeeded in the game.

Hiram Berry Hiram listened to Kurt's attempts, raising an eyebrow at his attitude. "Kurt. That was a lot of Es. No director is going to want to work with you with that kind of attitude," he warned him, shaking his head. Hiram had hoped that he'd taught Kurt better over the last twenty years -- clearly, he'd been wrong. Turning to listen to Rachel as she gave her side of the events, Hiram nodded encouragingly. Of course she nailed the exercise -- she was his super star for a reason.

"Very well done. So you didn't tell Kurt about your new suitor and he didn't like that you withheld information." Hiram slapped his hands on his knees -- well, that was an easy fix. "It sounds like you just need to say sorry, honey, and then everyone can make up and we can go out for milkshakes at the Spotlight Diner and judge all the pitchy wannabes."

Kurt Hummel Kurt rolled his eyes at the criticism of him not being easy to work with. It was a mask, though. He was incredibly uncomfortable with this situation and wanted it over with. "In the process of trying not to hurt...uh-" he motioned to himself, although he had accidentally let an E pass through when he said process. "you did...and that's not a good....justification for lying. You could have - sorry, there's an 'e' in 'have', my bad - told....you could have said 'I want to talk to you about the amazing thing in my life, but I can't at this...." time, moment, presently, all had Es "I can't right now. I'll fill you in soon, though.' And that would've...I'd say that was okay, and I wouldn't pry or think you didn't want to talk to-....Kurt." He anticlimactically finished by changing the tense he talked about himself in

Rachel Berry “I said I was sorry, Kurt,” Rachel snapped, pausing momentarily to reflect on how well she was following the rules to this game, without even trying. “Dad, I said I was sorry to him.” She looked at Hiram for reassurance, before continuing. “It’s as if you don’t want to...” she paused to think for a second, “it’s as if you don’t want to swallow this truth. You don’t want to, um.. you don’t want to pardon us— my suitor and I.”

Finishing lamely, Rachel crossed her arms across her chest. This seemed so pointless— Kurt could never forgive her. Especially if he wasn’t using the letter E. “Dad, I really appreciate you trying to help us work things out. But I don’t think this exercise is going to do anything.”

Hiram Berry Hiram nodded as both the kids started putting more of an effort into the exercise. It was good to have them talk, and to think hard about their words as they said them. But they hadn't cried and hugged yet, so maybe it was time to move on. "I think it's helped," he replied to Rachel. "But let's move onto the next. Rachel, lie on the floor. Kurt, please stand. We're going to consider an awful, terrible world, where something desperately tragic has happened to my baby girl -- don't worry about holding in your tears, Kurt, they'll add to the exercise." Hiram stood up, waiting for Rachel to follow his instruction and lay where he'd gestured.

"I would begin with a heart-wrenching eulogy and a video message from Barbra, but... this isn't about me. I have a handkerchief ready, so Kurt, don't hold back. The stage is yours."

Kurt Hummel Kurt opened his mouth to tell Rachel how inaccurate her belief was, but then Hiram was interrupting. His eyebrow raised as he told Rachel to lie on the floor. Oh god, a fake funeral? This exercise was even worse than the last. Funerals always reminded him of his mom's death. "I.....don't want to do this one." He admitted. It was going to look like he wasn't trying to work on their friendship, but he didn't want to drag anything down even more by mentioning what his mind had associated this exercise with. But he had a feeling he was going to end up having to do this dumb eulogy anyways.

Rachel Berry The idea of a fake funeral piqued Rachel’s interest. She had always fantasized about what everyone would say about her when she tragically departed, and while Rachel had hoped to die with a few more awards and theater credits to her name, the drama was still intriguing to her. Nodding sagely, Rachel followed her dad’s instructions, lying on the ground and doing her best to look dead.

Unsurprisingly, Rachel immediately approved of her father’s choice plans for her funeral. They’d, of course, discussed such arrangements before. But a frown formed on Rachel’s face when Kurt refused to participate. “Do you even want to work on our friendship, Kurt?” Rachel asked, sitting up. “Do you even care that I’ve died?”

Kurt Hummel Kurt stood up and walked to the kitchen, getting a bottle of water for himself before he came back to the living room area. "Of course I care that you're fake dead. And I know how much you've always wanted to attend your own funeral. But...." He sighed, staring at the bottle in his hands. "I'm just not big on funerals. Even fictional ones."

Rachel Berry Rachel crossed her arms, visibly disappointed that Kurt wouldn’t eulogize her. But she also knew that Kurt was sensitive about funerals, and she didn’t want to push him. “Is it because I was such a convincing corpse? Because I can try less.” She looked back at her dad before lying down again in the hopes they’d continue her fake funeral.

Hiram Berry Hiram sighed at Kurt's refusal, shaking his head a little. He was starting to wonder whether the Patti wing of the mansion would even need to be built. "You play an excellent cadaver, honey," Hiram complimented his daughter, reaching down to touch her shoulder to gesture for her to get up. "It's understandable that Kurt doesn't want to imagine your ultimately death. My own heart is pounding. We all know that life is fleeting and mortality is... daunting." He paused for a moment, letting the moment sink in -- and then clapped his hands.

"We'll try something else. I want you to think how the other thinks. I want you to become each other. So, Rachel, you're now Kurt, married to the adorably naive and endlessly loyal gold retriever of a human being, Sam Evans. And Kurt, you're now Rachel, new girlfriend of a hot young Broadway star who, unfortunately, does not have a taste for older, married men." Hiram looked over to Kurt. "Rachel", he emphasised. "Please tell me how you feel about this unfortunate argument with Kurt."

Kurt Hummel Kurt chuckled at Rachel asking if she should be a more convincing corpse. He frowned as Hiram continued on the dark route about death, staring at his water even harder. He was pulled out of his thoughts as the other man clapped, causing Kurt to jump slightly. As Hiram started to describe their next exercise, Kurt sat back down on the couch and folded one leg over the other. He couldn't help but smile a little bit at the description of Sam, though he made a face at the description of Jesse. As 'Rachel' was prompted to start things off, it took him a second to realize that actually meant him. "Oh. Uh....I'm hurt. Because I knew sneaking around with Jesse would cause drama for our friend group, especially with Finn - who is days away from officially being Kurt's stepbrother - and that telling him would put him in an uncomfortable position. And he doesn't seem to appreciate the favor I did him by lying and keeping him out of everything. But I'm also hurt, because I think he doesn't actually like my relationship with Jesse, even though he isn't fighting with Jesse at all...."

Rachel Berry Rachel nodded along to Kurt’s words, only slightly annoyed with what she sensed was sarcasm at the end. For all of their miscommunications recently, they still understood each other well.

“Well, Rachel,” Rachel began, assuming the seriousness of the exercise immediately, “I’m hurt that you lied to me multiple times, even though I know you thought it was in my best interest. Which it was, by the way.”

Hiram Berry Hiram nodded at Kurt's attempt at the exercise. "Very good, Kurt. I'm glad you're turning your attitude around. I'd consider you for a call back." He listened to Rachel's, tilting his head -- his daughter was normally much more verbose. "Don't break the fourth wall, sweetheart. We'd like to hear Kurt's full feelings on the issue. And I'd also like to know, Rachel," Hiram turned to Kurt, "and Kurt," -- he turned to Rachel -- "what you each think the other can do to resolve the situation. What do you think will bring the two of you back together, from your point of view, and ensure that you remember to shout each other out at award ceremonies and post chummy instagram stories at brunch together?"

Kurt Hummel Kurt raised his eyebrow at the mention of a callback. He didn't play into these things as much as Rachel did, but he was glad he was no longer being seen as difficult and stubborn at least. "I'm honestly getting confused here...am I telling you what I think Kurt or Rachel can do to resolve the situation? ....I'm saying what I want Kurt to do, as Rachel, yes?"

Rachel Berry “Yes Kurt, keep up,” Rachel said with a sigh. She took her dads words to heart— Rachel was always one for notes, regardless of the role or the project.

“Okay. I guess I am upset because you lied to me, even if you thought it was for my best interest. Because that means we must have very different ideas regarding what is best for each other, and I don’t know if they are compatible. Or if I could ever trust you to be my friend again.” Rachel paused and looked down, beginning to get emotional.

Kurt Hummel Kurt watched Rachel with a frown. He knew that was the situation, in his own head. But hearing the words out loud....as true as they were, they sounded harsh. "Right...So, I think what you, Kurt Hummel, can do is....try to forgive me, Broadway's own Rachel Barbra Berry, and what I could do - even though this was not the assigned prompt - is promise I won't lie like that again. And if I do need to keep something from you because that's my idea of looking out for you, I'll just tell you that I will catch you up to speed when it's appropriate to instead of making up a fake boyfriend." He smiled at the end, so she knew he wasn't giving her too much grief over Jeffrey.

Rachel Berry Rachel nodded, keeping her eyes down for a moment. “Yes, I think that if I, Kurt, could give you, Rachel, one more chance— a real chance, I’ll see that you’ll never lie to me like that again. Especially not about a fake boyfriend, even if he was very convincing. And you, Rachel, can work on better ways to protect the people you love.” Rachel looked up at Kurt, wiping her eyes, and then looked back at her dad. “Can I go back to being Rachel now?”

Hiram Berry Hiram watched the children, a sly smile on his face. Finally, something was working. "I think that my work here might be done," he informed them, reaching over to squeeze each of their knees. "I'm going to text Leroy and go and join him and Jesse. We'll see whether he's changed his stance on very handsome older men yet or not." HIram leant in to press a kiss to Rachel's head, hoping that this would be the end of her tears. "The three of us will be back in time for dinner. Maybe Kurt will be ready to join us by then." Hiram got up, grabbing his jacket and then heading out of the apartment.

Kurt Hummel "Yes, the Freaky Friday moment has run its intended course" Kurt agreed. He stood up and motioned for Rachel to join him so that he could give her a hug. He watched Hiram leave, but turned his attention back to Rachel. "I'm sorry I've been so distant the last couple weeks"

Rachel Berry Rachel said a quick thank you to her dad as he kissed her forehead and headed out the door. As he left, she looked up a Kurt, biting her lip for a moment in hesitation before standing up and meeting his hug. "I'm sorry I lied to you," she responded, "I really am."

Kurt Hummel Kurt tightly squeezed his best friend. "Good. You should be sorry. And I forgive you. He pulled away, taking her hand in his and sitting down. "So, I want all the gossip. Because you and Jesse seem like you're already a great couple."

Rachel Berry "You should be sorry, too," Rachel said, letting their hug linger. She followed Kurt to the couch, pulling her feet up and turning towards him. "Jesse's perfect. We're perfect. He took me on the most romantic date last week." She smiled, glad to have her best friend back. Things would be weird for a little while longer, she was sure, but at least they got beyond the communication block between them and were on the mend.

Kurt Hummel "I'm sorry I didn't have the best reaction to you and Jesse. But, to be clear, it wasn't about you and Jesse specifically. I think you two make a great couple and, in hindsight, it's absolutely not surprising that you two ended up together." He wasn't trying to make excuses, he just wanted to set the record straight that he was excited for them. His eyebrows raised as she mentioned 'the most romantic date'. "Oh? Do tell"

Rachel Berry “I know, I know,” Rachel nodded, utterly tired of this conversation. All she wanted was her best friend back. “I’m glad you think that. I do, too.” She smiled as she thought of the date. “Well, he took me out to dinner at the same restaurant we went to before opening night of our first show together. And then afterwards we went sailing down the Hudson to paint pictures of the Manhattan skyline. It was a total surprise.”

Kurt Hummel Kurt removed the cap from his water bottle and took a drink as he listened to Rachel. "Woah, that is romantic. I'm going to have to tell Sam to step up his game." Kurt joked....painting pictures while sailing down the Hudson was a great date night idea. "Or we'll just have to double date sometime."

Rachel Berry “I would like that,” Rachel said with a smile. This is exactly what she wanted— all of the people she loved most together. Smiling at the thought, Rachel leaned against the back of the sofa and hugged a pillow across her chest. “And I haven’t even told you the best part yet...” She touched Kurt’s arm, excited to tell him everything. But they had time, she reminded herself. They had all the time in the world.

#ftf:kurt #kurt

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